Just uhh…just a girl tryna be normal...

Things will get serious soon, dontchu worry~


39. Whose Side – 2

Come Monday morning, Shilo found herself staring out from between the blinds of her kitchen window. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, she watched for several long minutes, anticipating a jeep to pull up and searching for the faintest trace of an invisible woman, like footsteps appearing in the frosty lawn.

Her eyes stung. She'd had a rough night of tossing and turning, an uproar of thoughts plaguing her all thanks to the oasis's potential new residents. A fiery punch of frustration to a pillow last night had only accomplished a mess of stuffing, but it had been worth it at the time to imagine the pillow was one of her least favorite people she was pummeling. If she saw her now, she might just spit acid – plasma, actually – in her face.

Shilo was expecting Drakken's van to come sputtering out of the dark any moment now. He'd offered her a ride to Buckley's, despite the change of plans now that he didn't need a bodyguard to protect him from the paranormal. As the minutes passed, she began to consider hoofing it and forgetting about catching a ride, and tried not to consider the possibility something terrible had happened to him in the night.

Donning a jacket and stepping out into the chill, she muttered reassuringly to herself, "He must've slept in." She hoped that was all anyway.

Before she reached the end of the block, the early-morning peace was broken by the familiar chugging of a van on its last leg. Her lips quirked up at the corners, but she forced them into a straight line as she turned to face the van idling beside her.

The amount of white Drakken wore today was startling, and she studied him with a raised eyebrow as she buckled in. A genuine lab coat she'd never seen before hung rumpled and loose all around him, a pair of goggles worn around his neck. The getup was complete with elbow-length rubber gloves. He was wide-eyed and wired, through certain features of his face screamed tired.

"Dude, did you even sleep last night?" she remarked. What did she care for?

"Uhm…" His eyes darted to her and away, and he tried to flash a smile. "No. Not at all," he answered shamelessly, and was quick to defend himself when she let out a sound of disapproval along with her eye roll. "Oh, don't give me that. You wanted me to do something productive!"

"Well, what is it?" she goaded.

He shut his trap for a moment and stroked his chin thoughtfully before giving a tiny halfhearted shrug. "I'm not sure yet, but the flowers smell nice."

"Flowers?" She couldn't begin to fathom what he was doing with flowers. Well, one idea did come to her, a thought along the line of bouquets, but it stirred an unwelcome flutter in her belly along with it, so she rejected the notion and crossed her arms.

"Orchids," Drakken clarified. "I'd offer you one, but they're too difficult to cultivate to just hand out willy-nilly."

Well, now she wished he did have flowers for her – but she stamped that stubborn thought back as well.

She kept her trap shut the rest of the ride to Buckley's. Before she could free herself of the stuffy confines of the van, Drakken cleared his throat. "Um. Are you—? Should I—?" he sputtered anxiously before gulping and managing a complete sentence. "If you wish to hide out at the lair this evening, speak now."

She almost dismissed the offer, but second thoughts crept up on her before she could open her mouth. Every day she didn't hitch a ride with him was a day she risked being roped into some scheme with Buckley's girls. "Sure. Don't be late," she accepted with a bit more venom than intended. "Smell ya later, Doc."

Drakken grunted indignantly as she hopped out. "I smell wonderful, thank you very much," he shot back.

"Pickles and flowers are not the aroma of evil," she reminded with a wry smirk.

To which Drakken only childishly stuck his tongue out at her, and he hit the gas practically before she could slam the passenger door shut.

When she turned around, she almost regretted the exchange. If only fleeting embarrassment was the worst of it. Leaned beside the door of Buckley's Brew was the last face she wanted to see today – and the nuisance had made the conscious decision to show it. Arms crossed and pink as ever, Priscilla wore a smug smile Shilo wanted nothing more than to punch off her face.

"You stayed with him last night, didn't cha?" she guessed, sounding so sure of herself as if she knew everything.

Shilo was glad she had the high ground of knowing she was wrong. "Grow up," she scoffed, determined to keep her cool. Even if she had stayed at the lair, she had her own room – but did Priscilla know that? Priscilla didn't need to know, she decided. Priscilla didn't need to know anything. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Your baby brothers," she chimed, still all but barring the way in. "Those little bigmouths told me all about how you promised to send them candy from here." She jabbed her thumb to the storefront's sign.

Keeping her cool was a necessity now. "I don't want you ever going near my boys again," she hissed as she shoved Prissy aside.

"Whatever, mom." Priscilla stuffed her hands in her pockets and began sauntering away down the sidewalk.

Shilo was frozen in place at the door, watching the girl until she'd rounded the corner. She didn't trust her to have left that easy, but as she began her shift at Buckley's, counting on each jingle of the bell to announce Priscilla's return, she let an inkling of hope shine through that the nuisance had truly left to do something useful with her time – like maybe hitting the road to head back to Go City.

Shortly before the noon rush, a short curly-haired brunette came ambling in, slinging her backpack to the floor beneath the table in the corner. Within moments, Gail had a secretly-decaf to push across the counter toward her. "Did you pull it off?" she asked the girl.

"Wouldn't be here if I hadn't," chirped the teenager before taking a big satisfying gulp of her coffee.

Shilo looked between the snickering girls. "Alright, what did I miss?" she sighed.

"Jenny pranked her PE teacher," said Gail.

"Got him good!" chortled Jenny. "The creep totally deserved it."

"What—?"

"I replaced his eye drops with hot sauce. He didn't see it coming."

Gail erupted with a hearty laugh, egging her on, "And then?"

"Pulled the fire alarm," said Jenny proudly. She slapped a knee and laughed like a genuine jackass. Small as she was, it wasn't hard to see the Buckley family resemblance.

Shilo was inclined to grimace at the two girls who found the not-so-harmless prank hilarious, but reminded herself of a pep talk she'd overheard Chester give Jenny last week about the perverted teacher who'd looked up Chester's skirt last year. That same teacher had taken a shine to Jenny as well this year now that she was a senior going on eighteen.

When the laughter died down, Shilo was invited to join them in mugging the blinded creep when he came back from the hospital – as a group, for a little miscreant team bonding – but she'd declined with the excuse her villain boss was waiting on her.

After several minutes of waiting out back though, Gail popped out to light up and wonder where that villain boss of hers was. She didn't want to admit he was a no-show, so she shoved off from the wall and began walking. For a block or two, she tried not to walk too fast, but it became clear the man wasn't just running late. She groaned to herself, considering breaking out the nifty new mobile phone he'd given her, but decided not to bother.

A soak in the tub and touching up her manicure was a better use of her afternoon than waiting around for him anyway.

She still jumped up when the phone rang and rushed to it a little too hastily. She opened her mouth, ready to chew Drakken out for leaving her hanging, but the words fell short when a different voice met her ear.

"Hey! Is this Shilo?" blurted the overeager caller before she could utter a word.

"I – yeah?" she muttered in reflex. The voice was familiar, but at the same time it wasn't. She knew she'd know it if she heard it in person and not over the telephone. Before she could ask the obvious – who is this? – the boy chuckled.

"It's Tom," he said blithely, and she relaxed and tensed simultaneously. Just Tom. Good old average-boy Tom. Unfortunately the same Tom she'd given her number to last Friday but couldn't clearly recall if she'd agreed to a second date with. She hadn't, had she?

She wound her finger around the cord, knowing exactly why the night had gotten hazy after the shoddy karaoke performance – but the spark of plasma at the rekindled fire in her blood had her holding the telephone with her shoulder so she could shake the heat from her hands.

Whether she'd explicitly agreed to a second or not, Thomas Thompson was bold in asking to meet her at the 24-Seven. She agreed with an awkward, "Uh, sure," before she had the slightest clue what she was agreeing to. She chastised herself as she hurried to lace up her sneakers to meet him in ten.

She decided, upon seeing him dismount from his tacky moped, that maybe she didn't need an alibi that badly after all. But then he flashed pearly whites and shook his windswept golden hair back into place and that doubt flew out the window. She could even forgive him for keeping her waiting again.

Drawing a breath to steel herself, she gave a small wave and a strained smile. Tom was a nice enough boy, she told herself as he tripped on the curb in his hurry to get the door for her. The five minutes or so he spent debating which brand of diet soda pop to pick was tolerable, even if he was still hem-hawing over the selection by the time she'd paid for her Freezee and took her first sip. She barely suppressed a groan when he gave up diet sugar-free bottled disappointment in favor of regular grape soda.

Even if she'd let herself, she wouldn't have been able to open her mouth to comment on the angel boy's indecision before the bell above the door jingled, followed by the clamor of boisterous girls. The voices were regrettably recognizable, and she couldn't help cringing and turning her back pointedly to them.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the black sheep!" came the bubbly call of Priscilla, and Shilo knew without turning that she was the black sheep in question.

"You know her?" wondered Gail, a frequent shoplifter at this particular 24-Seven. She'd yet to be caught, even after a daring stickup Shilo herself had been involved in. Today Abigail's interest was in a candy dispenser behind Shilo, as she shouldered her out of the way to take advantage of the malfunctioning machine that gave extra handfuls of chocolate with just the right sleight of hand.

Priscilla was pressing in too close, all but cornering Shilo. She took quick inventory of available exits – but the aisles were narrow and Mickey, Prissy, and Gail blocked the direct route to the door while Tom stood dumbfounded behind her – she just as quickly decided that leaping over the shelving to make an escape would be excessive if not jumping the gun, so she swallowed bile and swatted Priscilla's hand away as the girl reached out to run her fingers through her hair.

"Bleach it blonde already, Shi," advised Prissy with a sickly-sweet voice. "Then no one will be able to tell you're going gray."

Shilo couldn't help smoothing her hair back in reflex, shooting daggers at Priss. Even if she did have grays – which she didn't – blonde just wasn't happening. Even if she did stand out like the black sheep among the crowd of blondes.

"Oh, fuck off already," she spat, and the tiny shocked gasp behind her reminded her of Thomas Thompson and his virtuous mouth. She grit her teeth and tried not to roll her eyes.

Priscilla took no offence. "I've missed you too," she shot back and plucked a soda from the shelf as she turned to beam back at Gail loading her pockets with candy. "I like it here already. Some fine dudes in this town."

"Yeah, if that's what you're into," grunted Gail around a mouthful of chocolate.

Shilo didn't miss the cagey glance she shot up toward Mickey, who was bashfully quiet as he loomed behind Priscilla. "How much can you bench?" Gail asked the young man with a note of genuine curiosity. Shilo had to wonder how long it would take Gail to try swaying Mickey into henchwork to score brownie points with Buckley, and had to believe Mickey was above it.

She took her chance to spin around, nearly running directly into Thomas in her haste to escape the aisle while the girls chattered about Mickey Goldsmith's physique as though he weren't even there. She didn't mean to stop at the door and shoot Mickey a sympathetic glance as Priscilla sarcastically called him a trophy and stood on up her toes to pinch his cheek – which he rubbed at the second Priss looked away. Shilo inwardly commended him for taking the teasing in stride.

Thomas pausing to pay for his soda and delay her escape was almost enough to make her leave without him. She'd barely taken two steps away from the 24-Seven when he mounted his moped and called over expectantly, "Alright, hop on."

She paused and stared with curled lip at the scooter. The jeep parked on the other side was what convinced her to step back toward him, if only because it was sure to make a quicker getaway.

"Don't worry," he said, his bright smile faltering. "It doesn't go very fast."

Speed was not her biggest concern, but he didn't need to know about the glitter of plasma coating her palms like sweat at the mere idea of sitting so close. She rubbed her free palm on her pant leg as she cautiously came to stand beside the scooter. A glance up to the storefront, and she could see Priscilla noticing she'd slipped away. She swallowed the fire swelling up in her chest and swung her leg over what sufficed as a back seat as Priss made for the exit after her.

Tom suggested she hold onto him – she opted not to – and away they went. He didn't seem super eager to meet her friends. Ex-friends. Associates. Whatever they were.

"Um, where are we going?" she wondered awkwardly as she clutched her quickly-melting Freezee between both hands. She focused on the murky turbulent water as they crossed the bridge rather than the boy's back or the delicate gold chain around his neck.

"The park," he answered simply. With the merry way he said it, she would expect the sort of park one sits down to on a warm sunny day for a picnic in the shade. But the sky now was overcast again, and soon it would be dark. They might even be in for some rain. "The lake is nicer, but they're here too."

"Who's here?"

"You'll see," he said, and she didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling.

If she were back home in Go City, a spellbinding boy suckering her into taking a ride with him and promising to take her to meet some mysterious group would be extremely suspicious. Back in Go City, it was hard to take anyone at face value when no less than a dozen villains and lowlifes wanted her and her ilk dead.

Good thing she wasn't in Go City anymore.

Shilo took a deep steadying breath and gave her palm a long moment of consideration before letting it rest on the boy's shoulder. She wished it didn't take so much concentration to stay mindful enough to not burn him, and the smile on her face didn't feel like it belonged there. Tom knew she came from Go City. Thanks to her brothers, he knew she was Shego in a past life – he didn't have to know she was still Shego with a different occupation – but at least that meant he knew she was a fire hazard. If he wanted to take the risk, so be it. He could burn in hell, for all she cared.

Before she knew it, Tom had pulled up to a curb and cut the engine.

As it turned out, here was the riverfront park and they were ducks. Still, it took the young man dashing after them wielding a loaf of stale bread from the day-old bakery outlet to realize what they were there for.

When she wondered aloud why he didn't buy the good stuff – his family seemed well-off enough – he shrugged and gave her some story about how he and his righteous die-hard folks would buy up discount bread and road trip to the big city once or twice a month to hand out sandwiches to those in need. Overly proud of himself for his charity, he beamed and invited her to join them on the next trip. She feigned a smile and said she'd have to check her calendar.

She didn't tell him so, but Shego had put her life on the line more times than she could count for countless thankless civilians – therefore she wasn't about to waste a perfectly good weekend handing out sandwiches. She'd done more than her fair share. Yet the boy's pretty smile was almost enough to change her mind.

A date consisting of sitting on a soggy bench and tossing pinches of bread for noisy waterfowl while a motormouth went off in her ear wasn't her idea of romantic, but each glance his way sent a sickening stirring through her that nearly set her ablaze. The least romantic date imaginable, she decided, was probably for the best.

Sparingly few words slipped past her zipped lips while the boy pried ever so gently about things that didn't matter, like when she'd last gone to the park to feed the ducks, what was the ocean like, how she was settling in at the little desert oasis, if she'd made many friends yet.

The answers didn't come easily. Her throat tightened up, thinking of the last time she'd gone out to intentionally feed the birds, her baby brothers in tow to throw fries at flocks of screaming seagulls. Describing the warm salty breeze and sand between her toes induced a bout of homesickness. As for friends and settling in, she had to clam up. Buckley's girls could hardly be considered friends, she could tell him that much – but she'd already lied about knowing the one friend in the oasis she did have.

"What about those girls at the convenience store?" wondered Tom with a tilt to his head better suited for a puppy. She could at least kiss and coo at a puppy and tell it how dimwitted it was without it taking offence.

Her face flushed hotter than ever at the thought of getting quite that close to try it on him anyway, and to be on the safe side she scooted ever so slightly further away toward the end of the bench. "Just people I know from Buckley's Brew," she muttered. It was a good enough excuse.

"Ah," he said with an almost sad nod of understanding. The overcast on his face cleared suddenly and he was beaming brightly at her again. "If you swing by the church out on Lavender Avenue this Sunday, I can introduce you to some of mine. Or I could pick you up," he offered hopefully.

If it weren't for the pink appearing in her peripheral on her other side, she might have laughed in reflex and asked him if he was joking. But instead, the beginnings of an incredulous smile fell as she turned a sharp glare away from Tom, locking her gaze on Priscilla who'd come to stand so close that Shilo could almost choke on her overwhelming fruity body spray.

Fragrant as she was, Priscilla wasn't her usual bubbly self at the moment. "You know bread is bad for them, right?" she informed in an unusually somber tone. Tom stopped himself from tossing another slice of white bread to the swarm of ravenous fowl, but before he could question the young woman, the birds had inhaled the last of the crumbs and begun to close in on Prissy. She curled her lip and kicked out at the nearest one before jumping back. "Nevermind," she spat. "Give 'em the whole damn bag."

Putting on a fake smile like her makeup in the morning, Priscilla's bubbliness was forced as she plopped down at the end of the bench, too close and warm against Shilo's side, all but forcing her to scoot closer to Tom. Priss reached over her, extending a hand toward him. "Nice to meet you," she said, feigned friendliness enough to fool almost anyone. "So you're Shi's new boyfriend, huh?"

Shilo squeezed her heated hands between her knees to hide the sparks of plasma.

"I'm not sure about boyfriend," chuckled Tom with a nervous smile. "But it's nice to meet you too, uhm…?"

"Priscilla."

"Tom."

Stuck between them as they shook hands in greeting in front of her, Shilo rolled her eyes. "I should get going," she said, shoving their arms away a little too roughly so she could stand up.

"I'll give you a ride," piped Tom. She had the sense he was proud of his scooter. She'd be more impressed if it was a souped up hotrod.

"Actually, I—"

A hand caught her wrist. "Hey! You could come help me unpack," suggested Priscilla, practically using Shilo to pull herself up from the bench. "We can order a pizza and do each other's hair and nails like we used to. How 'bout it?"

Tom's raised brow and glance between them was all Shilo needed to know she'd been caught in a white lie. She weighed her options – decline Prissy's invitation and go with Tom, or snub them both.

Priscilla tugged at her while Thomas took a step back.

"I'll let you two catch up," said Tom, though it sounded like an offer to let her go. How generous. The angelic boy was too amicable for his own good.

A glance toward him and his moped parked at the curb a little ways off, and Shilo made her decision. Linking arms with Priscilla and giving her a jerk she hoped hurt her shoulder, she took a big step away from Tom and forced a smile onto her face. "I'll see you around," she said as warmly as she could manage, though she wanted nothing more than to sock Priscilla in the nose and call it a day. "Guess I gotta help Priss. She can't lift more than ten pounds. She has scoliosis." It was a half-truth. While Priscilla did have a mild case and would never win any medals for weightlifting for unrelated reasons, she wasn't that feeble.

The dig wasn't deep, but it was enough to earn a displeased grunt from Prissy. "Nice to meet you, Tom!" Priscilla called back sweetly with far too much sugar heaped on. "Maybe we can all hang out sometime."

Shilo was getting closer to plasma-blasting the girl regardless of Tom for a witness to the violence. "Not if you value your face," she quietly hissed through her teeth.

Thomas Thompson waved and called a pleasant enough, "Goodbye!" to them as Shilo tugged Priscilla away to the far end of the park, not particularly caring where she had left the old jeep.

Priscilla took the opportunity to bump her hip into Shilo's and flash her a wry grin. "He's cute," she noted. "Your boyfriend know you're two-timing?"

Shilo grimaced down at the woman now clinging to her arm, despite her effort to shake her off. "I am not," she defended with sparingly few words. She didn't need to defend herself. She didn't need to give Priscilla the time of day.

"So!" said Priss, changing the subject. "I ran into your work buddy when I was checking out a place, and we got to talking, and thought we could make a date of all going out and doing some donuts—"

Shilo reached for her temple and the souvenir left behind from the last time, little more than a week ago now. "Pass," she answered before Prissy could finish.

"You can't avoid me forever," retorted the persistent young woman tugging her arm as she took the lead. She had a lot of nerve for someone who'd done just that for years.

"Yeah?" spat Shilo, and in a swift motion that caught Prissy by surprise, she raised a foot and kicked her in the side, dislodging her and knocking her to the muddy grass in doing so. "Watch me!"

Throughout middle school she'd been teased for having longer legs of the two, though most of that teasing had come from Priscilla herself, who never once outran Shilo in their years on track together. She didn't let that go to her head now though as she bolted across the park, her sneakers clapping down on the sidewalk bordering the far side. Dashing through traffic and into the suburbs, she didn't dare slow or even glance back until the streets became familiar again.

Gulping for air, Shilo inwardly chastised herself for not keeping up on her old training regimen since dropping out the team, and especially since coming to the oasis. She made a mental note to take advantage of the gym back at the lair, which she realized after some time that she was making a beeline for.

She was skulking down the unmaintained road that promised to take her out of town, hands in her pockets as she scowled at the fogline and stewed over the tedious date Priscilla, a blessing in disguise, had crashed, when an all-too-familiar engine came chugging up behind her.

Headlights washing over her, her sore feet came to a pause and she stuck out a thumb without looking back to be certain. As expected, the old white utility van rolled to a stop beside her, breaks squealing.

"Fancy meeting you here," quipped Drakken as she climbed in.

"Get bent," she hissed in lieu of a hello before she could think twice. She was apt to blame him, even if she knew it wasn't fair. He'd failed to pick her up on time, and that had left her vulnerable to Priscilla. One heated glance his way and she wished she'd bit her tongue. He looked better rested now – not well rested, but rested nonetheless – and he must have taken the time to shower and groom himself, because his hair was clean and tied back and he didn't smell so strongly of dill and flowers anymore. It was hard to fault him for taking care of himself.

Shego couldn't help noticing the mild sting of runaway embers in her palms then, and she rubbed the tingle from her arms as she turned her glare to the windshield just as the onset of a sprinkle began to speckle the glass with droplets. She was more than ready to call it a day.