Running for Home
Chapter Twenty-one – This Sad Exchange Pleased Neither One of Us
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am simply borrowing the wonderful characters and settings for my own enjoyment and amusement, and not for any profit.
Author's note: I've never been to a Homecoming (they're kinda rare in Alaska), so I have no idea if they normally occur on a Friday or a Saturday, but for my story and from the timeline I've worked out from the movie Sky High, I figure it's on a Friday :) And hey, look, it's my longest chapter yet! I had all the major plot points for the chapter outlined, but the characters just kept filling in with their own conversations and tiny details.
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Apparently, I wasn't the only one having a miserable Day of Homecoming. Will had turned into a social pariah overnight. The Heroes couldn't stop talking about him busting up their party (conveniently leaving out the fact that it was his house), and the Sidekicks couldn't stop talking about Will having a Heroes-only party.
The few times I ventured into the hallway between classes, I constantly overheard these types of conversations. However, for most of the morning, I tried to stay in my classroom. I figured it was safe territory. I did have to venture out once to get a book from my locker and once to get a drink of water after Jillian looked at me and I grew so nervous, I almost swallowed my tongue. Both times proved safe enough. Maybe as long as I stayed in the sophomore sidekick area, I would be safe. Then again, it was this kind of maybe-I'm-safe thinking that had gotten me into this current mess.
For the twenty minutes before lunch, I debated my next move. I could go with the rest of the class to lunch. Venture out among the crowds, hoping for safety in numbers. Or, I could wait a few minutes, hope Josh would think he'd missed me in the crowd, and then make a safe journey to lunch. Or he might already be done terrorizing me and I could go to lunch and go about the rest of my day without being bothered by Josh.
Well, option one hadn't worked out so great for me this morning, I remembered, my cheeks turning red just from the memory of that embarrassing Beatles moment. Ugh, what if Josh had forever turned me off the Beatles?! Okay, no, not possible, not allowed. However, I might never be able to listen to that song again without becoming terrified. Kind of like those rats scientists did experiments on to see what kind of sense-memories brought on specific responses. Wait, had I just let Josh turn me into a lab rat?
Okay, so time to think about option two. Option three seemed so unlikely that it didn't warrant further consideration. But waiting in the classroom, while possibly not my best idea ever, seemed like a new and viable option. I'd tried option three last night and option one this morning, and neither of those had worked out so well for me. Soooo, option two it was.
As everyone left for lunch, I kept my eye on the clock. Miss Watson gave me an odd look as she left, but I just pretended to be gathering up my stuff realllly slowly. 1 minute and 39 seconds had passed when the door started to open. Oh, shitake mushrooms, maybe option two wasn't the way to go.
"Tyler?"
I almost collapsed in relief when I recognized Warren's voice and saw him pop his head in. Seriously, I could feel myself melting into a big puddle of a heart-stopped-no-longer-scared mess.
Warren grinned when he spotted me, making me wonder if I really had melted down like I heard some freshman friend of Stronghold's could.
"You going to lunch, or are you eating in here?" he asked.
I grabbed my messenger bag (which I had finished packing all my stuff into as soon as Miss Watson had left, just in case I had to make a quick exit), and hopped up, trying to ignore the rubber feeling in my legs. Warren tried to hide his grin when he saw how much trouble I had taking the first few steps.
"Don't even start," I grumbled as I pushed past him, into the empty hallway.
"No worries. I'm just waiting for it to get bad enough for you to tell me what's going on," he said, shrugging. I glared at him.
We'd turned down the hallway to the cafeteria when I figured now was probably the best time to take care of an earlier need. I stopped Warren outside of the girls' room. "Can you hold my bag for me for a second?" I asked, taking the bag's strap from around my head and placing it over his shoulder.
"Uh, yeah," he said, looking a little uncomfortable at the idea of waiting outside the little super heroine's room. I rolled my eyes and left him in the hallway looking around desperately for some kind of escape route.
I finished quickly, afraid Warren might freak if left out there waiting for too long. For Warren, waiting anywhere meant waiting for someone, which meant he might actually have a friend. Didn't want him to panic and bug out during our first week of public friendship. I was washing my hands when I heard the voices outside of the bathroom. It was too muffled to make out any words, but I recognized Warren's eye-rolling tone and Layla's pleading voice. I wondered if he'd told her about his run-in with Will.
I had turned from the entrance to dry my hands when I heard the door open. Figuring it was Layla and wanting to avoid any conversations with the overfriendly girl who happened to be Warren's date for Homecoming and the daughter of the woman who'd killed my father, I spent a few extra seconds drying my hands, hoping she'd go into a stall and I could avoid her entirely.
I still hadn't heard Layla enter a stall, but if I continued to dry my hands, I'd be rubbing off my skin pretty soon, so I threw the paper towel away and turned around.
No one was in the bathroom with me and all the stall doors were open.
Now, maybe someone had been about to come in, but changed her mind. Maybe someone had hit the door accidentally (with Warren in the hallway, it was entirely possible someone had been thrown against the door). Maybe some poor freshman boy had pushed the door open, realized it was the girls' room and run away quickly in embarrassment. Maybe. But my instincts were screaming DANGER and at this point in my life, I was inclined to trust them.
I backed into a stall and quickly locked the door. After which, of course, I remembered Warren was in the hallway and I should probably have headed towards him. Oh God, I was one of those stupid girls in the horror movies who ran up the stairs instead of out the front door! That, or I was a paranoid freak who'd just locked herself in a bathroom stall for nothing.
But something didn't feel right. Something in the bathroom. Like I couldn't trust my senses; I couldn't see or hear anyone else, but I just KNEW I wasn't alone in there. And at a school like Sky High, maybe it was for the best that I not trust my five basic senses and instead rely on my sixth sense, paranoia.
I stared at the stall door, wondering if I should make a run for it. I went to unlock the door, but my hand hit something before it ever reached the lock. Ohhhhh, shitake mushrooms.
The air in front of me fuzzed and waved as Josh appeared in front of me. He smiled as he looked down at his arms. "One of the sophomore heroes has invisibility as a power. I think I rather like that one."
"But…but…but I locked the door!" I finally managed to sputter out.
His grin was 95 percent evil, 5 percent smug. "I know. Also borrowed some freshman's phasing power. Could have used it to get through the bathroom door without opening it, but I rather enjoyed the look on your face as you realized something was wrong."
"You sick freak." Not the best insult (heck, not even an insult, more like a statement of fact), but the best I could come up with when I was 70 percent shocked and 30 percent scared. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever.
"Aw, now, no name calling, Jenny," he admonished, stressing my real name.
I glared at him. It didn't do a lot, you know, but it made me feel marginally better. "My name is Nevaeh Tyler," I growled, trying to be intimidating, instead of looking like I was cowering in a bathroom stall.
"Come now, baby, we both know the truth," he said, smiling as he saw how much being called "baby" angered me. "Anyway, I didn't come in here to argue with you."
"Sneak," I corrected. "You snuck in here after you saw Warren in the hallway." I tried to control my growing anger when I saw how much he enjoyed getting a rise out of me.
"Well, after I saw Warren heading towards your classroom instead of the cafeteria," he admitted. Then he smiled. "But that's all irrelevant. What I really wanted to talk to you about was the color of your dress so I can get you a matching corsage."
A corsage? A FLIPPING corsage?! He couldn't go four hours without finding some way to harass me! Screw controlling my anger. I lashed out with a reverse punch, using my right fist, which had been angled away from him; since I was 12, falling into a loose fighting stance had been automatic for me when confronted by an adversary. I put all my anger, fear, and paranoia from the past 18 hours into that punch. I remembered this one time in karate class when one of the students had lowered the punching bag too early and the other student had hit him, full force, in the diaphragm. The boy had gone down, struggling to breathe for a minute or two. I aimed for Josh's diaphragm now.
And slammed my fist into the stall door behind him as he let my hand phase through him.
Oh shit…take mushrooms!!! Mushrooms! Mushrooms, mushrooms, mushrooms!!
Pain, pain was radiating up from my fist, through my arm, causing my vision to go a little black around the edges and I wavered a little where I was standing. Luckily, my parents had drilled dignity in the face of pain into me since I was five. I could handle this, I could handle this, I could...
It was a struggle not to allow myself to be the one writhing in pain on the floor. Instead I cradled my arm against my chest and dared Josh with my eyes to say even a single word.
He gave me a look, as if he'd been about to say something but was now thinking better of that idea. Unlocking the stall door, he swept it open and gestured with his arm for me to go first. I tried to squeeze past him without allowing any part of our bodies to touch, and when that proved impossible, I tried to ram my shoulder into his chest as I passed him. Again, he just allowed his body to phase the blow, and I was struggling for my balance after hitting nothing but air.
I turned towards him as I headed for the door. "Stay away from me, Josh. I mean it. Stay away." Perhaps my threatening words would have been more effective if I wasn't cradling my hand, but I wanted to get the warning out there.
"So…no news on the color of the dress? You do have one already, right?" he asked.
I could hear the hidden laughter in his voice and flipped him off with my good hand as I exited the bathroom.
Warren had an especially pained look on his face when I came out of the bathroom, but Layla was nowhere around and he couldn't transfer my bag back to me fast enough. "Next time, I'm not waiting outside the bathroom. It's just too…weird," he said quickly. He noticed the way I was holding my injured hand. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I whacked it against the paper towel dispenser," I improvised (yay for the brain-mouth connection!) as I hurried us away to the cafeteria. I had no idea how long Josh's new invisibility powers would last, and I didn't want Warren to see Josh coming out of the bathroom.
Really, I was going to tell Warren everything. Soon. I would have a big, tell-all confession soon, and get this all off my chest. I would stop sneaking around soon and stop looking like a secretive freak, soon. But not now. Now, all I wanted to do was make it to the cafeteria, eat lunch, and pretend it was a normal day. And not a day where I was running from Josh as well as trying to figure out what I was going to wear to Homecoming tonight.
Crap. I really didn't have a dress yet. Well, I guess it was a good thing I had gotten off work today, having promised to double shift on Sunday. Maybe Tara could help me out in the dress department. I'd have to talk to her after lunch. Because there was no way I was going to pass up this prime opportunity to sit with Warren, not when we were walking to lunch together and everything. And yeah, it might have been out of a feeling of bodyguardism on his part, but hey, I was desperate, and would take what I could get.
Warren sat down at his customary table and I sat across from him. We were just pulling out our brown-bag lunches when Tara bounced over to us, perfectly balancing her tray of food while using her power. She plopped down next to me.
"So this school's gone crazy overnight. I don't think anyone can talk about anything else besides Will's party and Homecoming tonight," Tara said in lieu of an actual greeting.
Warren and I just kind of stared at her. This was twice in as many days that Tara had ditched her posse of conformist friends to sit with us. I grabbed her bottle of orange juice and sniffed it for vodka. Nope, it was clean.
She grinned as she swiped the bottle back. "No worries, I'm not imbibing during school hours," she assured me.
"And yet, you're still here," Warren observed in his eye-rolling tone, managing to convey the eye-roll without the actual act.
Tara shrugged and tried to explain her reasoning to us. "At the moment, you two are the most interesting bit of news this school has seen since, well, the cafeteria fight. I mean, loner Warren, voluntarily being seen with someone around school AND sitting down to lunch with them. And actually eating lunch – no one here has seen you eat lunch since like, the first day of our freshman year," Tara said, talking to Warren. He took a bite of his carrot stick. Tara grinned. "Here's the way I see it. I could sit with the same people I sit with everyday, the same people, I might add, that I've sat with since the first day of our freshman year, and yes, that was the last day we ever saw Warren Peace eat lunch until today, and these are the same people that were too scared to join me yesterday during Save the Citizen when I sat with you two, or, I could sit with the people who are causing all the new gossip flying around the cafeteria at the moment. So, who to sit with? Cowards or interesting people?" Tara pretended to weigh the options in her hands as she finished her long-winded explanation.
Warren looked a little dazed and I wondered if that was the most anyone had ever talked within his do-not-enter three-foot radius.
"Right, so moving on," I said, hoping to talk over Warren's glazed over look. Because this really wasn't a conversation I'd planned to have while sitting at lunch with him, but I didn't know if I would see Tara again before the end of the day. "Do you have a dress I can borrow for Homecoming?"
Tara grinned, and I grew a little fearful of her dress selection.
"I mean, something simple," I clarified.
Some of the gleefulness went out of her with that announcement, but she still nodded. "Yeah, my mom sometimes buys me dresses that she, in her outerspace alien mind, thinks I might actually wear some day. Me, wear a solid print, normal dress? Don't think so. But apparently she does, so she just keeps buying them for me. Ooh," she said, suddenly growing excited, "Come over after school and we can have a Clueless-like moment, picking out dresses for tonight."
I felt relieved. Tara and I hadn't really solidified the decision on whether or not we were going to Homecoming. So at least I was just going to be an uncomfortable loser, rather than a loner, uncomfortable loser. Since Warren had his big date and all already planned for the night. And I didn't want to be a total Josh-target, standing alone like a sheep at the slaughter (also known as the Homecoming Dance). "Sounds good, although I'll have to head back to my Aunt Paige's afterward. I think she's all excited to like, get pictures of me on my way out the door to Homecoming."
"Parents will do that," Tara said, shrugging.
It was a new experience for me. I looked at Warren and it suddenly occurred to me that he had probably never been to a school dance either. "Warren, is your mom all ready and lying in wait with a camera?"
Although he looked, well, the words supremely uncomfortable came to mind, with all this dance talk, he managed to look a little smug. "She's got the late shift at the hospital tonight."
I wrinkled my nose at him. Lucky duck. I was going to have to suffer through pictures before I made my way to the…well, wait, what was I going to be making my way to?
"How do we even get here for Homecoming? I mean, it's not like we can just rent a limo and drive over," I said, airing my newest concern. Dress, taken care of. Corsage, hopefully never. Ride? Definitely not Josh's dad's aircar!
Tara shrugged. "Usually, some of the seniors rent an airlimo, so they can appear in style. Some kids get their parents' aircar tonight. But for the rest of us sad students, we have to take the bus."
"The bus?" I asked, incredulous. Showing up to Homecoming on a bus. Not exactly the stuff teen dreams were made of.
"Well, jet packs kind of ruin the formal look. It's not like we go to a normal school. There are awesome perks to going to a school like Sky High. This just isn't one of them," Tara stated rather matter-of-factly.
"True," I said ruefully. "And the bus schedule?"
"It'll be at our regular stop at 7:10," Warren told me. At my raised eyebrow look, he explained, "I looked it up when I realized I'd somehow been roped into going."
"Wait, you're going with someone?" Tara asked him.
He kind of glowered at her and mumbled something.
She cupped her ear in a speak-up-and-speak-clearly gesture. Seriously, the girl must have enjoyed risking her life by provoking the easily annoyed pyrotechnic.
"I apparently asked Layla Green," Warren said.
"You're going with Will Stronghold's best friend?" Tara almost fell out of her seat. "Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better!"
Warren turned towards me, which was an impressive action considering that I was sitting across from him and it took a bit of effort to twist his shoulder in an obvious ignoring-Tara gesture. "In an effort to not miss the bus, I'll meet you outside your building at 6:50?"
I nodded in agreement, thinking about Josh's threat to pick me up at 7, and tried to hide my shudder. If only tell-tale movements could escape Warren's eagle-eye, but no, he clearly saw the shiver. I saw his eyes narrow as he went into trying-to-connect-the-dots mode.
Which I headed off by dragging Tara into a conversation about makeup for tonight. I could practically see Warren entering dazed-and-bored land. Whoo hoo, go quick-thinking me!
The rest of the afternoon passed pretty quickly as worry-about-Josh and worry-about Homecoming vied for my mind's attention. Until we got to my bestest-most-favoritest class ever (at least in the Land of Heavy Sarcasm). And luckily my last class of the day.
"Alright, after careful consideration on what we should be thinking of as current, we're going to put off our discussion on the Conway Kid's punishment," Miss Watson announced during Current Events.
"Or lack thereof," Jillian called out from the back.
A few of the kids groaned at the news (were they really that excited to talk about the sentence the judge had given me? They seriously needed a life!), but I was just relieved. In the face of everything else that was going on, I had completely forgotten about preparing (yeah, right) for today's assignment.
"Instead," Miss Watson called, trying to get the class' attention back on her. I thought it was a noble effort considering that tonight was Homecoming and last night had been Will's party, and those were about the only Current Events our class really wanted to discuss. "Instead, we are going to discuss the latest development in Dynamite's trial."
Good grief. I really needed to start watching SBC so I wouldn't be so surprised every time I heard something new in Current Events regarding Dynamite's trial. Ew, was I really thinking of watching the news? Miss Watson was a better teacher than either she or I had probably realized if I was considering keeping up on Current Events outside of the actual class. So what if this newfound desired to be up on wordly events came from a desire to no longer be surprised regarding Dynamite's trial. What counted was my desire to start watching the news, right?
Either way, we still had to spend the next twenty minutes talking about this new psychiatrist Dynamite was calling to testify on her behalf. Apparently, this Dr. Day was up on the latest breakthroughs in the pathic super powers, and how exactly, they affected other people and their different powers.
What a load of bull—well, let's just say, I had no idea who this Dr. Day was, but the good doctor's eyes were definitely brown.
After school I found Tara and we hopped on her bus. Picking out a dress proved to be a rather painless experience. It was kind of like going to a department store. In truth, I had about the same number of options. Tara wasn't kidding about her mom buying her a good selection of rather plain dresses in the hopes that the eccentric, bouncing super girl might eventually wear one of them. I wondered if all mom's bought some clothing for their kids in the hopes of influencing their sense of style. My mom hadn't, but then, it's not like she would have ever fallen under the category of normal.
Tara's mom was going to be out of luck tonight. Tara already had an awesome, red, vintage fifties-era dress to wear tonight that she'd found at a used-clothing store. I grabbed my selected dress, a simple wine-colored dress with wide straps that dragged on the floor a little. It was a good thing my dress shoes had heels. When I left Tara's, I managed to find the right busses that would take me out of suburbia and back into the familiar territory of downtown Maxville by 5:30 p.m.
I wasn't even running late, but Warren still showed up at my aunt's door at 6:45, shocking me into dropping the mascara brush, which I had been fighting with. I didn't even really understand the purpose of the mascara, considering that I had dark eyelashes, but I had tried to curl them, and so far, my eyelashes weren't taking well to the change. I was contemplating how actresses always managed to have perfect eyelashes on TV and wishing I had my own makeup artist tonight. This preoccupation and wishful thinking is the only reason that I didn't hear someone buzzing the apartment to be let up. Good thing Aunt Paige was lying in wait in the living room.
Technically, it was Aunt Paige's fault I dropped the mascara brush, since she's the one who called back to the bathroom, "Nevaeh, you're date is here."
Of course, that immediate fear-of-Josh zing went through my entire body and I dropped the mascara brush into the sink. Aw crap, I was done with it anyway. Screw the mascara, I suddenly had much bigger problems!
Luckily for me, I heard Warren's voice before I started going into panic-attack mode at the idea of Josh in my living room (which was technically my bedroom). Hoover Dam! Warren was in my bedroom! Even though in my head I knew it was really just the living room, it didn't help stop the immediate blush at the thought. God, I was acting like I was in junior high! I could handle this. Right, Warren in my living room.
And then Aunt Paige's words finally sank in. Crap, she had called him my date. This was gonna take some awkward explaining.
Except that when I finally made my way out to the living room after putting away the mascara (none too gently, either), I heard Warren promising, "I'll have her home by midnight, no worries." And using a date-like voice.
And on that, I will fully blame the speech problem I suddenly encountered as I entered the room. Certainly my newfound inability to form a coherent thought, forget words, had to do with that, and not with the fact that Warren was standing in my bed room (living room!) wearing a tux. And looking oh-so-gorgeous in it.
"You're drooling," Warren observed dryly. Which proved effective in curing me of my lack of speech.
I blinked. "Can you blame me?!" Wow, had I just said that? In any other circumstance, I would not help inflate Warren's ego, but this was SO far from an ordinary situation. Warren. In a tux. Wow.
I gave in to the urge to fan myself.
He grinned. That super-cute, instantaneous, REAL grin of his. "You're looking kind of hot yourself, there, Tyler."
While that alone might have caused me to pull a Warren and self-combust, Aunt Paige's very loud, "Awwww," shocked me back into reality and I remembered that my aunt was there, observing the whole thing. And then the flashes started.
For the next two minutes my aunt directed us into every kind of pose imaginable. I pretty much blushed through the whole thing, since it wasn't like Warren was even my date. And yet that truism still didn't urge me into correcting Aunt Paige's assumption.
When Warren and I finally escaped the flashing camera light, we hurried down the steps, making a hasty get-away.
We were out the door before I remembered the oddity that was Warren coming to my door like an actual date.
"I thought you were going to meet me outside the building," I said as we walked.
Warren tilted his head and gave a mini-shrug, while still managing to watch my reactions rather closely. "I was going to, but something about the way you got kind of tense at the idea of meeting me outside at 6:50 said maybe picking you up at your apartment would be a better idea."
I nodded slowly, trying to manage my reactions so I wouldn't give anything away.
I was doing such a good job until he added, "And I saw Josh Gregory kind of lurking in the shadows across the street."
I could actually feel all the color leave my face as I started looking everywhere and trying to sense his presence. No sign of him. Maybe he had left when he'd seen Warren.
Warren. Ruh-roh. I glanced at him, hoping my face wasn't actually as much of a Lucy-Ricardo-oops expression as it felt. Heh.
"Right," Warren said matter-of-factly as he continued walking towards our busstop. "Ready to tell me what's going on?"
I shook my head, still trying to find the power of speech that had deserted me with the realization that the dots were practically connecting themselves for Warren. Okay, had to distract him from those dots.
"Why did you let Aunt Paige think you were my date?" I asked, remembering the earlier misconception.
Warren grinned. "You think we had time to explain the Layla-Will mess and your Cupid theory?"
I nodded. "Good point. Hey, I heard you talking to Layla right before lunch today – did you tell her about your conversation with Will last night."
"I did. And I know we were going together only to make Will jealous, and I could have backed out, seeing as how he said he wasn't going anyway, but I didn't want to leave her hanging like that."
"Awww, I'd like a flame boy superhero with a side of chivalry, please," I teased, bumping him with my shoulder. I swear, he almost blushed when I described him as chivalrous, and then it looked like he was going to retaliate the bump by pushing me into the street gutter. "Truce," I claimed, lifting my dress' hem and pointing to my only pair of dress shoes.
He agreed grudgingly.
The ride to Sky High was slower and smoother than normal. Perhaps the driver didn't want us to throw up all over our beautimous formal wear. Maybe he was just mellow and tired, since it was after 7 in the evening. Either way, we made it all the way to Sky High without Warren burning off his tux. I thought about that, and for a single hormone-induced instant, I wished the ride had been as ridiculous as it usually was. But just for an instant. For the rest of our twenty minute ride, I spent my time admiring Warren in a tux. Again, just…wow.
The outside of the school didn't look any different. It didn't look like the decorating committee had spent any time or effort to make us feel like we were approaching a Homecoming wonderland. Which made me apprehensive about the inside of the gym. This was my first Homecoming, and I kind of wanted it to be special. Cheesy, I know, but this was high school and I had expectations. Oh God, what if it still looked like the Save the Citizen ring? I just didn't think my nerves could handle that.
Warren and I entered the gym and it appeared my worries had been for nothing. The gym looked awesome! Like it wasn't even a gym. Wow. Who knew all it took to transform the gym into a formal dance were lights, decorations, and a disco ball. I'd heard about the student body president in charge of the decorating committee. I guess it paid off to have a technopath handle something like this.
It looked like most of the other busses had already gotten here. The place was crowded; kids from every grade were there, dancing or talking along the sidelines. It was kind of cool to see everyone there, heroes and sidekicks, having fun.
I spotted Layla over by the buffet table. I nudged Warren, pointing. "Your date's already here."
He nodded. "Yeah, her bus was supposed to get here a few minutes before ours."
"Figures the downtown kids would be the last to get here," I said.
"Hey, you wanna hang out with Layla and me?" he asked. I gave him a look, waiting for him to realize who he had just asked me to hang out with. It clicked for him pretty quickly, just like things always did for him. "Well, I mean, if I can sit down to dinner with Will, surely you can hang out with Layla for a few minutes."
"Maybe," I agreed, shrugging. "But not tonight. Tonight, I don't want to chance losing control of my powers and having the school fall out of the sky or something disastrous like that. I'm gonna see if I can find Tara. She should already be here."
Warren smiled. "Well, I guess I'll see you around tonight."
Right, he had to get to his real date. Which meant not me. I really needed to stop delaying the moment. "See ya."
I had already turned and started scouring the crowd for Tara when he called, "And take care of yourself tonight, alright?"
"Always," I told Warren with false confidence. "You just worry about playing cupid." Yeah, take care of myself. I had managed to overcome my fear of being outed, seeing as how Josh would lose his power over me if that happened, but I still had that annoying bully to deal with on a personal level.
The dance progressed with ease. I found Tara and her crowd and hung out with them for awhile. I dance once with Jake, the sidekick who could blink lights on and off, and once with Lenny, my power development friend. I was about to ask Rex to dance, figuring he was too shy to ask me himself, when someone tapped my shoulder, right on the wide strap of my borrowed dress.
I knew who it was before I turned around. Hoover Dam, how did he always manage to sneak up behind me. My parents would be so disappointed to find out how many times I had allowed this second-rate creep to sneak up on me. Well, I mean, if my dad wasn't already rolling over in his grave regarding the fact that I was training to be a hero. And hopefully, my mom would never find out either of those little tidbits.
"Here's the thing, Jenny-love," Josh whispered, leaning down and coming so close to my ear I could feel his breath, but luckily, not his skin. I froze at the nickname. Only my mother called me that. Aw crap, what if he'd been in contact with her?
"Yeah," he breathed, "I thought you might recognize that name. It really does pay to do my homework when it comes to you. Now that you're overprotective shadow had finally disappeared, I think it's time you remembered that you're supposed to be my date. As in be here with me."
I turned to face him, sidestepping so as to not come into contact with his skin. Crap, I should have worn a snowsuit to Homecoming!
"What do you want, Josh?" I asked, growing tired of these annoying games.
"Well, you wouldn't tell me what color your dress was, so I figured white flowers was the best bet for your corsage." He held out a plastic box to me. Obviously, I wasn't about to put that on, or pretend that this façade, this new and less fun form of bullying, was some kind of an actual date. Apparently, he could tell by my face that I wasn't going to play his game, because he warned, "You can put it on, or I can put it on for you. It's one of those wrist corsages, so I might accidentally brush your skin. And I think this night is gonna be special enough without you or me blowing up the gym."
I didn't know what he meant by special, but the way he said it was just creepy. And threatening enough that I swiped the corsage from his hands, ripped it open, and put on the stupid flower myself. And okay, it was actually a really pretty arrangement of three white roses…no, wait, I was NOT going to be swept away in the moment of my first high school formal, having a "date," and getting a corsage. I shook myself out of my little teen dream and back into reality. Right, creepy bully, blackmailed date.
"Now, I would put my arm around you like a date should, but I'm not sure that would be the best idea, given your dress," Josh observed, smiling. Smarmy freak.
"Lucky me," I said, allowing my sarcasm to come out, full force.
"Shall we get some refreshments?" He urged me towards the food table, placing his hand on the small of my back.
"Don't touch me," I growled through gritted teeth.
"I'm not. I can't touch your hands, arms, or shoulders, which leaves me with only the clothed areas of you. Hm, I must admit, I'm starting to like this dress. Ooh, your bouncing little friend is coming. Look happy," Josh ordered.
I slanted him an angry look before pasting on a smile. "Hi, Tara."
She was obviously trying to figure out what was going on, looking back and forth from me to Josh to Josh's hand. I couldn't blame her for her confusion. I was rather confused myself as to how I had let everything get as bad as all this.
"You're okay? You're here with him?" Tara asked, giving me an incredulous look.
I could feel Josh's hand tightening on my lower back and feared what might happen, or what might be said, should Josh actually get angry. Right now, he was a creepy, oily jerk, but at least he was a controlled jerk. I remembered all too well that temper of his from the first day we'd talked when Tara had interrupted his attempt to discover my power.
"I'm fine. You didn't hear about how Josh asked me to Homecoming in the halls this morning?" I tried to sound as positive as possible. Which was fairly difficult when what I really wanted to do was upend Josh on his ass, but no, he knew my secret, which meant for the moment, I had to play his game. But not forever. Soon, I would figure out some way to turn the tables on him. I Didn't know how, or what I would do exactly, but I couldn't let this go on forever. He was just enjoying it too much.
"Well, I did, but I never thought you'd say yes!" Tara exclaimed.
Grrrreat. Josh was getting scarier by the second. Time to blow this confrontation. "What can I say? I kind of wanted a date to Homecoming. Anyway, I really like this song, so we're gonna go dance now," I said, pulling Josh's arm as I headed toward the dance floor.
And once we got out there, I realized it was a slow song. Oh bother.
Josh grinned as he realized my predicament. "Well, isn't this interesting," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around me. I gritted my teeth, but placed my hands on his shoulders, leaving as much room as possible between my hands and his neck. Interesting would not be the word I used to describe this situation. He continued to annoy me, trying to talk me to death. "You know, I'm REALLY starting to like this dress. This low back design, it's really quite interesting. Since you know, I can't exactly touch your bare skin, I have to place my hands pretty low on your back. An inch lower and we might have a couple of chaperones on our case."
I could hear the grin in his voice, but I tried to ignore him, looking over his shoulder. And spotted Warren, hanging out with a bunch of Stronghold's friends. I'm not sure who was more surprised at the other's choice of company.
Warren's hands lit on fire, and I feared for his tux, thinking it was about to start crawling up his arms, burning his wow-inducing formal wear. I caught Warren's eye and shook my head, trying to send a back off signal.
Warren still took a step in our direction, but I started gesturing wildly with my hands, urging him to back down. The last thing I needed was Warren confronting Josh in public, where Josh might let something slip in anger. Or on purpose. I looked around at all the people, trying to convey this idea to Warren.
Luckily for me (I think), he got the message, and I watched the flames on his hands die down.
God, this supposed teen dream was turning out to be a teen nightmare and we were only a half hour in.
Another fifteen minutes passed with Josh and I dancing and getting some punch. And then, finally, Josh excused himself. His hands lingered and withdrew slowly across my back.
Gross, I was suddenly afraid I was going to throw up in the middle of the Sky High gym. I hurried out a back entrance, going opposite from the direction that Josh had taken. I contemplated going to the girls' bathroom that I always used, but suddenly, that safe haven was tainted after my run in with Josh there.
It was like my first day of Sky High, I realized, remembering the day I had tried to find Warren in detention and ended up traveling all over the school. This time, I found a couple of back hallways that led to a deserted-looking area that I'd never even known was there. Surely there was a safe bathroom around there. I did find one quickly enough, although maneuvering my way back to the gym was going to be a problem.
I was leaning on a sink, standing in front of a mirror, finding it hard to believe that the person I saw in the mirror was the same person who was allowing herself to be blackmailed by a bully, when I felt the first wave of shock and panic closing in on my empathy barriers.
I hit my head on the sink! My legs collapsed out from under me and I hit my forehead on the sink. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Laying dazed on the bathroom floor, I remembered Miss Watson's advice, should this overload of emotion ever happen again. She'd advised me to steer clear from the epicenter of the problem.
My head began to pound, emotions beating on my empathy shields. It hurt to concentrate, but as near as I could tell, everything was coming from the gym. I got up and stumbled to the door. I might not make it all the way to the gym without passing out, but maybe there were some random students in the hallway who could tell me what was going on. I could sense something or someone outside the door.
As I emerged from the restroom, I almost ran into Josh for the second night in a row. He was fusing a door shut, using a funny, metal glove that went halfway to his elbow. I briefly wondered whose power he had borrowed in order to do that, or if it was just some kind of Medulla-like technology, when I realized what the door said. Anti-gravity Room.
He turned and I saw that the arm part of the glove had a compartment; it was open, and there were three round buttons and a fourth button, shaped like an odd shield or helmet.
When he realized who had seen him, Josh raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said, "This is an interesting turn of events, isn't it? You seem to have stumbled upon something you were never supposed to see or know. But then again, so have I."
Then he grinned, which was my only warning as the gloved fist came towards my face. Pain exploded in my cheek and everything went black.
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Author's note: Hmmm, this chapter just kept going and going, kinda like that little insane pink bunny. It was kind of exciting, though, having the characters writing themselves like they were in the beginning chapters. YAY! I haven't stayed up writing till 8 in the morning since July :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 20: Pinkninja83, Lt. Commander Richie, PadFootCc, Angelnanoo, BlackFireRaven, summerlover1, CMHValex, ebonlylight, Tigger101, cheekybumbum, Waive, Nival Vixen, Shayera, Rayvin813, and lovestoread.