Ok I lied. I just got this idea for Jinx and well I had to write it. No but seriously, I have a project to work on and blah. Thank you shadowsong for your review. I hope you did enjoy it. The only reason I had Raven's mother contemplating killing her daughter was because she didn't want raven to have live the life that Raven was doomed to live. But in the end the mother considered life more important no matter how you have to live it and whom you live with. Because life is awesome. But that's just my opinion. Anyway, hope you liked it. And I'm sure you knew all that anyway.
As always, I do not own Teen Titans or Ford.
Her unusual eyes skimmed the landscape. The heat had caused her white cotton blouse to stick to her thin body. She was so slender and underweight for her height that it had caused the school counselor to take notice. She was called into a meeting that discussed good eating habits and body image. The words from the counselor had slurred in and out of her mind. She knew there was nothing wrong. She just couldn't put on the weight. Besides, everything on her was muscle anyway. It was from her gymnastics. The only thing that kept her focused. Why would she stop eating if it meant sacrificing the one thing that mattered to her?
Her eyes flickered as a group of girls scurried passed her. Their conversation became hushed as they crossed her, but she could still imagine what they were saying.
'She is the Bruja, the Witch.'Her pink hair fluttered slightly from a stir of wind.
Most people spoke this way. There was nothing else to do in a small town. It had started with her arrival; dropped off on the stoop of her uncle's house one day. A small child sitting for hours on concrete block, waiting for something. Until her uncle had opened the door, she had not moved.
Then it was her odd appearances; the coloring of her was unlike anything most people had seen. Reasonable people believe it was a birth defect, but the most superstitious of the town claimed she was aojar, jinxed. It didn't help either that accidents followed the girl like children following the Pied Piper. Little things, like Arador Even's falling out of a tree. Or when Paco Ledesma had lost his hand while cutting his lawn. Though it seemed she was not the direct link to the cause, in some twisted way, if someone pieced together the prints, she was connected. Always with in a close distance to the victem, she now was the villages' pariah.
With this washed over her, the town had claimed her identity. Since no one dare get near her, for the fear of becoming aojar also, she remained an enigma. And she couldn't place the pieces together either. She couldn't even recall being called by her name, or even if she had one.
She could remember when she had done her first flip, however. Her uncle had been in a drunken rage, swinging his massive body around. He staggered towards her and then began to fall like a cut tree. Instinctively, her body flexed, and she flipped automatically away from the danger. When she had landed, she had felt almost at home. And that was a feeling she knew she had to keep.
With the junk in the yard, she had built a make shift gym. It wasn't much, but at the same time, it was everything.
She shaded her eyes from the hot sun as a brown Ford Bronco pulled up to the school. Sighing, she trudged across the dead grass to the car. She stepped into the car and sat down, sinking into the worn, tan seat.
Her uncle, in the driver's seat, sat taking a long drag at his cigarette as he scratched a lotto ticket with a quarter. The shavings landed gracefully in the man's lap.
He took a good look at the paper and then sighed with a defeated tone.
"Too bad you ain't good luck," and then flicked the ash from his cigarette.
The girl turned away from him to stare out the window.
Her breathing was heavy. Sweat swept itself down her agile frame. She held herself steady. Two round-offs and then a pirouette. She balanced. A back walkover. Then a back handspring. She found herself upside down in the air, and watched as the world blurred before her. But for her, this was all right side up. The ground caught her feet. She held herself there. For those few still moments, she almost felt she had captured something. However, as quickly as it had come, as quickly as it did leave. She straightened herself up. Another time she would get it, another landing would reveal the answers to her.
Up and down the world went. The creaking of the trampoline would have most likely frightened anyone else, but the girl continued to flip. On her sixth flip, she came to rest. The bouncing slowed, until she was still on the black spread. The sun had begun to fade. She examined the cluttered yard. Rusted car parts were littered everywhere. It was like a graveyard of twisted metal.
The house needed to be painted.
Yelling could be heard next door from the neighbors.
A shady group of teenagers hadswarmed togetherat the corner under a flickering street light.
She could hear the beeping of the microwave sounding from inside the house. Soon her uncle would appear at the doorway, sticking the TV meal through the ripped screen.
She stared back defiantly at the setting sun. A breeze ruffled through her pink locks.
She would get out of here- any way she could.
