I don't own Sky High.
After school was over, and after I had gotten another few packs of Camels, I headed to work. Here's the thing, I work at Dollar Tree. No, don't laugh. A job is a job and working at Dollar Tree is easy.
I park my dilapidated and rusty car around back and jog across the ally to the shabby paint-peeling back door. I'm late, but that's not unusual. I doubt my boss will be in today at all -she's such a lazy bitch.
As I make my way through the back door and snag my vest out of my employee locker I notice that I am right, Anna isn't in today. Thank freaking God, I don't think I can deal with her shit today.
I twist the hands of the clock on the punch in clock back ten minutes before I stamp my card and put them back. It's a trick that I learned a long time ago that I doubt anyone will find out about since the security camera in the employee brake room is pointed towards the door.
Work at Dollar Tree is slow and boring, as always. I worked the cash register today and seven people asked me if everything was really a dollar.
Really? You don't know everything in Dollar Tree is a dollar? Even when it's written on everything in sight? Really?
"No, everything's ten dollars. We just say it's a dollar to draw people into the store. Sorry for the inconvenience." Is always my standby reply, unless they are very old or very young.
Some people actually believe me when I tell them that. Others ask to see my manager, and I always tell them that she's not in -even when she is.
Really, it's a wonder I still have a job.
So, after my long and tiresome shift I saunter back toward the employee lockers and grab all my crap before I head to my car, my thoughts on my nice and warm bed.
The things is, because somehow I have the crappiest luck of anyone I know, my car won't start. It starts smoking, and I don't know what's wrong with it, just that it won't freaking start. Won't start as in no sound, no bad noise, dead and never coming back.
I smoked two cigarettes so I wouldn't have a mental breakdown because, really, how could my day get any worse.
Hangover, the bus ride form hell, detention, dealing with Peace in the hallway, and sitting trough super school.
The last two day felt like they've lasted forever and I still have the rest of the year to deal with -car-less for the foreseeable future. Worst part of it all: That I can see that future. And fear. You can never ever forget fear.
I want to drown myself in alcohol again. I want to smoke until my lungs give out. I want make someone scream, which is really, really wrong. But, hey, that's just my weird ass powers trying to drag me onto the Dark Side -and yes, that is a twisted Star Wars reference, thank you very much.
I take a deep breath and calm myself down from the edge of hysterics long enough to shout to Jerry -my coworker- that my car broke down and that's why it'll be sitting behind the store until I can get it towed.
He offered me a ride home, and really, I should have took it. A year ago and I would have. But, damn my pride, I didn't.
Now, I'm walking home through Maxville -a city with a crime rate off the charts- in the middle of the freaking night. And guess what? It just started raining.
Damn, my life is a bad soap opera.
Oh, so I'll admit that the dark gives me the creeps. I've never liked the dark. I've never like Maxville in the dark, so I'm on high alert, and, admittedly, trying to take shortcuts home.
Shortcuts that just so happen to get me lost, on the bad side of town.
Great, now someone's going to try and mug or rape me and I'll have to kick their ass with my powers, then the cops will come and lock me up, throwing away the key forever.
Just fucking great.
The first sign that something is amiss is that the ground starts shaking. Which, in Maxville, is never a good sign.
Last year, I would have run and hid like a good little citizen, or maybe I would have screamed for help, but now I don't even flinch. I just keep on walking, my short hair plastered to my head and my combat boots squelching nosily against the wet pavement.
I should have ducked into an ally or something- it is a bit unusual for someone to continue walking down the sidewalk when you can feel something big and dangerous stomping it's way through the business district, but I really wasn't thinking about anything but getting home, and fast.
So that's probably why I got tackled into the ally, because someone didn't think I could take care of myself.
And that just pissed me off, because I was already having a shitty day.
"Get the fuck off of me!" I yelled.
The face I saw in the light glinting off the wet pavement was one I hadn't been expecting.
Guess.
It was fucking Peace.
How in the name of hell? What the fuck? Why is he here? Is he really stalking me?
God, I hope not.
"This is getting ridiculous!" I slam my fists down on the pavement. "Why can't you leave me the hell alone Peace?"
"Oh," he said. "It's you. I wondered what idiot was waltzing down the street when a giant is terrorizing the city." Then he mumbled under his breath, as if I couldn't hear it. "Of course it's you."
That's just plain insulting. One, I'm not an idiot. Two, I was not waltzing. And three, I'm not stalking him -he has absolutely no right to be judgmental.
Instead of hurting him -which I really want to do- I pick myself up, dust myself off, and leave the ally in a huff only pausing to throw a withering glare his direction. "Yeah, of course it's me. Fuck you Peace."
And that was that. I went home, took a very long shower to revive the feeling in my toes, downed a little could medicine so I wouldn't be sick the next day -because I hate being sick more than I hate school-, and went to bed.
Tomorrow, I decided before I drifted off, I was going to start avoiding Pyro.
