Shake Your Foundations
Chapter 9: For Whom the School Bell Tolls
Friday faded into the weekend and the weekend into Monday morning before any of the adult Dreadnoks deemed Andi capable of attending classes without falling asleep halfway through them or accidentally injuring her classmates should they attempt to wake her up. She still wasn't sleeping well—between the cast and the tape around her ribs, getting comfortable at night proved rather difficult—but could at least sit for one or two classes in a row before needing a break. And, by being around different sets of students than Zanya, the likelihood of one of his girls overhearing something useful from the student gossip mill doubled. It was the soundest intelligence-gathering plan they had, and Zartan was eager to implement it.
Andi did not share his enthusiasm.
"Why do I have to put up with them?" She demanded as they walked out to the car that morning. "The other kids our age at the Terrordrome barely tolerate me as it is, and they're smart ones! These kids are idiots!" There weren't a great many of them, but a few of the more established Cobra agents, namely Crimson Guardsmen and support staff, did have families and children that lived with them on-base. They tended to be as rule-oriented as their parents, and as a result, viewed Shadowatch's flagrant disregard for stated guidelines and rebellious nature with open contempt.
"So are the Dreadnoks, and you haven't killed Torch yet." Although she made many a spirited attempt at Thrasher, Torch hadn't found himself in any real danger from her yet. "We both know that's not the real reason for these protests." Oh, he knew what it was. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. She'd started flinching anytime he or Zandar touched her unexpectedly, something she hadn't done in two years. The best way to address the issue, however, was to get her to openly admit what it was.
She glared back, dark eyes attempting to bore holes in his skull. "It's reason enough." Her entire being screamed 'defensive' now, further proof that he was on the right track.
"Do you really think that saying it will fool you into believing it?" He asked, mindful of the fact that, yes, they would be running later than usual today if he couldn't herd her to the car. Later than usual meant an increased risk of running into Gyrich at the front doors, something he'd worked hard to avoid the last few days. Gyrich, worm that he was, wanted to get Andi kicked out of the school despite the fact that she wasn't technically a student there. The redheaded man lacked any real backbone or guile, however, and proved very easy and entertaining to thwart. Verbally eviscerating him in front of a captive audience rated high on Zartan's personal to-do list, about two spaces back from physically eviscerating him and dumping the body in an alley somewhere. "We both know you're not that gullible."
"There is no other reason." That time the words came out in a low hiss. He gained nothing from pushing the issue at this point, not with her so wound up.
"Much as I highly doubt that, we will finish this discussion when we are not pressed for time." He told her. "Now stop stalling and get in the car."
As he predicted, the argument delayed their arrival at the school long enough to give vice-principal Gyrich the opportunity to brood at the main doors. Few students were about just yet, but those that were hanging around stopped to watch the impending discussion in hopes of finding new gossip. They weren't disappointed.
"Still dressed like a delinquent, I see." Gyrich sneered at the chemistry teacher's daughter as the duo approached.
"I wasn't aware my brother's favorite shirt and jeans without holes counted as 'delinquent' attire." The girl raised a blonde eyebrow at the comment. "The definition here must be different than the one back home."
"Indeed." Mr. Tanzar remarked, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. The gesture looked slightly awkward with her standing eye-level with him. "And our dear vice-principal's is different from even that."
Gyrich frowned. "It would do well to watch your tone, or else…"
"Or else, what?" Mr. Tanzar countered before his daughter could jump into the spat again. "I warned you what would happen if you continued to bother her."
The watchful teenagers were hard pressed not to laugh at the constipated expression on Gyrich's face. "I will have your job if she steps out of line, Tanzar."
"And I will ruin your life if you do." That cold smile boded ill for the ginger-haired man, the students knew. Nothing good came from smiles like that. "The harassment charges will be filed by sunset."
"Those never stick."
"My letter to the school board will, I assure you." Mr. Tanzar replied. "Now, I suggest you move out of the way so Amy can get to her classes on time. Wouldn't want Principal Kelly to learn you're bullying prospective students, would we?"
Andi's first class of the morning wound up being World History with the Baroness and a pair of New Mutants. Her unusual grade rankings made arranging a schedule difficult. Try as he might, Zartan hadn't been able to keep her completely separate from Bayville High's resident troublemakers, but at least it was only the walking electric outlet this morning.
Said electric outlet fast tested her emotional control when he began throwing spit wads toward the front of the class. It didn't matter how much you disliked a teacher, starting a spit-wad war was a bad idea. Especially against the Baroness, whom Andi was certain had at least three throwing knives on her person. She couldn't stand the intelligence operative, but she had the good sense to know not to pick a fight with her unless she knew she could win; there was no winning with this many witnesses around. Not unless you took out the witnesses, but that wasn't worth the trouble.
The fact that he was sitting three seats behind her and doing this did little to endear him to her. The wet pieces of paper kept whizzing by her head, most falling far short of their goal but still distracting her from her attempts to take notes. She did her best to ignore him, and made it most of the class by not recognizing his existence in the classroom. Those attempts at maintaining any semblance of control went out the window the moment a wayward spit wad collided with the back of her neck.
Everyone around her sucked in a breath. It was one thing to hit desks and book bags, but hitting innocent bystanders was a big no-no. She slowly reached up and peeled the offending wad of paper off her neck. The blond mutant squirmed when she glared back at him, but when she turned her attention back to the front of the classroom, she heard him sigh in relief. The perfect time to strike back, she decided. With a carefully-aimed flick of her fingers, the damp projectile launched through the air an impacted in the center of the other mutant's forehead. She allowed herself a pleased smirk as the idiot boy blinked in astonishment. He wouldn't be trying that trick again.
Ray "Berzerker" Crisp blinked in awed disgust as his own spit wad whacked him in the forehead. It wouldn't have been noteworthy if it hadn't landed three seats ahead of him when he first threw it. The blonde chick must have a really good aim to hit him with it from that far off. That or she was a mutant, but seeing as she was the daughter of the Chemistry sub, he doubted it. You simply didn't find unaffiliated mutants around these parts.
She was also rather pretty, but if that glare meant anything, he'd already shot any chances of scoring a date with her straight to the sewers. Maybe if he played it cool today and tomorrow, she'd give him a chance? ~Only one way to find out.~ he thought.
By the end of her second period class, Andi'd all but passed out at her desk. She blamed the two flights of stairs she'd had to climb to get here. And the fact that the geometry teacher's monotone voice could lull a moving fighter jet to a crawl. Even Destro's economics lectures weren't this boring.
Scowling, she hauled herself onto her feet and slung her book bag over her shoulder. She needed a short break to rest, but before she could get one, she needed to get back on the first floor. The school had elevators (ADA compliancy and all that jazz), but she'd never taken time to memorize where they were on her previous visits. And the teacher, an aging half-deaf man named Mr. Sloane, seemed disinclined to help point her in the right direction. The students weren't much more interested or helpful. She sighed. ~Looks like I'll be finding it on my own.~
Logic dictated that the elevator should either be somewhere close to the stairs or the exact center of the floor plans with clear signage pointing to its location. Since there were no signs near the classroom, which was located in the center of the hallway bisecting the third story, the elevators should be near the stairs. Logic, however, mattered little to whoever designed Bayville High School. She groaned when she reached the stairs to find stairs and nothing else. Not even a wheelchair ramp for her to drag herself down. ~Two flights of stairs. This is going to suck.~ At full strength, she could run up and down the staircase as much as she damn well pleased. Injured and recovering at a snail's pace (for her), she might manage one flight on her own right now. Both if she stopped for a break on the first landing. She'd wasted too much on the trek up here to spare enough to make it to the lounge and not get caught by an over-zealous hall monitor.
"Are you okay, kid?" She looked up to see one of the security guards approaching. ~Speak of the devil and he shall ****ing appear.~ She thought as she looked the stranger over. Average height, dark skin, faint inner-city accent—wait, was this one of the Joe plants at the school? She knew there were five or six of them here, but given the number of faculty and staff at the school, it was hard to tell some of them from the 'normal' instructors.
"Can't seem to find the elevators." She answered honestly. Lying to him wouldn't do her any favors. "I thought they might be near the stairs, because that's where normal building planners put elevators, but whoever designed this school was either drunk or stoned."
The strange adult chuckled. "No arguments here. You're the chemistry sub's girl, right?" She nodded. "Then you can crash in the teacher's lounge once we get you on that floor. The elevators are a few doors over from there."
"Again, drunk or stoned." She grunted, following him through the hallways. It was a good thing she had long legs or he'd have out-walked her entirely. She barely kept up as it was. When they got there, she stared blankly. "Who the hell puts the elevators next to the janitor's closet?" Scratch that, who put the janitor's supply closet in an alcove like this?
The man chuckled. "Maybe the architect should have consulted the students when he was designing the place."
"He shouldn't have needed to." She frowned while he hit the down button. "The elevators should be next to the stairs, not a block down and to the left." It was standard base layout for Cobra and something the Commander was awful particular about.
"Are you wanting to design buildings once you graduate?"
She sincerely doubted she'd live to see her own graduation—her line of work took casualties left, right, and center even amongst highly-trained adult agents—but decided to humor the man by playing along. "Not particularly. I'd much rather go to a trade school and learn how to fix cars and make wicked paint jobs." She commented as the doors opened. They stepped inside.
"Nothin' wrong with that." The man smiled, punching the 'ground' floor button. "Long as it's something you enjoy, that's all that matters."
She nodded. She did enjoy fixing things, but not quite as much as weapons and martial arts training. She really wanted to start work with swords, but the boss insisted on her mastering staffs before he would consider turning her loose with a wooden one. And because of the broken arm and healing ribs, he wouldn't even let her near the practice weapons right now. And why was she even thinking about this crap in front of a total stranger, albeit a minorly helpful one. "And is keeping teenage idiots from hurting themselves your 'passion', Mr…?"
"Oh! Sorry, forgot you don't know anyone here." He looked apologetic; whether or not he was actually sincere remained to be seen. "I'm Mr. Pine. And no, it's not exactly my passion, but it'll do just fine for now."
Joe, then. Wonderful. At least this one didn't look all that bright. Friendly, but not skilled at dealing with devious teens. She could use that to her advantage. "I'm Amy, but I'm sure you already knew that."
He shrugged. "Not too many kids running around in casts, slings, and giant band-aids." He eyed her curiously. "How'd you manage that, anyway?"
"Dirt bike accident." They'd gone over this story too often for her to screw it up. "Hit a rough patch of gravel and landed wrong. Dad says I'm lucky I didn't bust my head open." Actually, her boss told her if she ever pulled a stunt like this, he would find creative new ways to make her regret it, but that was beside the point.
"No helmet?" He asked.
"A bicycle helmet, open-faced." She glared at him. "Why the interest? I'm sure a school this size has much better gossip topics to choose from than my adrenaline-junkie tendencies."
"Just curious." And hiding it badly, she noted. "Your dad caused a bit of a commotion when he took off to check on you."
"He worries too much. I was fine with Mom. Sure, she doesn't have a lot of time to look after me—bit of a workaholic, but she means well." Which wasn't entirely untrue…
"But there are kids around here who wish their parents were half as concerned as yours are." Mr. Pine stated as the little buzzer sounded and the doors slid open. "You should be thankful he cares this much."
"Just because I'm annoyed doesn't mean I'm ungrateful." She frowned, once again struggling to keep up with his pace. All available energy was currently relegated to 'heal the giant gashes and broken bones' rather than continued awareness or movement. He didn't seem to notice the lethargy.
Zarana, who had been walking in their direction when they exited the elevator, did. "There you are! I wondered when you'd show up this morning."
"Good god, did he ask everyone to babysit me?" She made a show of looking at the ceiling in exasperation.
"Pretty much." Zarana shrugged. "Come on, teacher's lounge is this way." She threw an arm around Andi's shoulders and led her in the direction of the lounge. "Thanks for finding her!"
"Uh, no problem, Miss Rafael." Mr. Pine fumbled over the return sentiment. "I'll just go…patrol the hallway."
"Good luck with that!" Zarana called over her shoulder then whispered to Andi. "Come on, kid, you look like you're about ready to fall over."
"He didn't exactly believe in walking slow." The teenager returned. "Or maybe that was slow for him…"
"Either way, you've earned a break." The older woman told her. "I'm honestly surprised you lasted for two classes."
"I probably should have quit after the first one, but once I was already up the two flights of stairs, going back down so soon seemed pointless."
"Next time use the elevator, okay? Last thing any of us want is to find you collapsed and discovered by someone other than us. Image inducer won't hide the scales."
"Fine, I'll use the inconveniently-located elevators." She stifled a yawn. "Think he'll be upset if I sleep through lunch?"
"I think he'll be happy you haven't gotten into any fist-fights yet." Zarana smirked. "But if classes are wearing you out this much, maybe we should keep some of your lessons private ones?"
Andi groaned. "Can we wait and see how the rest of today goes first?" Private lessons, no matter how much she preferred them, would make the other students more curious about her than they already were.
"Take it up with your dad, kid." Andi blinked twice before remembering that they weren't in the teacher's lounge yet and could still be overheard. They were right outside the door, though. "First, though, I think you need a rest before lunch break."
"Sounds good." A yawn broke through despite her best efforts to stop it.
