Part Two: UA High
AN: Thank you for sticking through the first part. Now begins the second act of the story. Be prepared for longer chapters.
-12-
U.A. High is nothing like I imagine.
It's huge and bright and crowded. It stands tall overhead, stretching upwards so high it almost seems to hold up the very sky, with clouds curling around it and dawn streaming across its liquid blue mirrors. It's beautiful and magnificent and…
Everything but heroic.
The sound of Daddy's jaw breaking. My brother's horrified screams.
"A hero," I think, looking at the large classroom door. 1A is emblazoned in giant figures. I pull it open. I'm the first to arrive so I settle in the back. Pulling out a book, I begin to read.
It's ten minutes before someone else arrives.
A boy with a bird head, black feathers, and a crisp uniform. He glances my way, nods, and goes settles on the other side of the room. I frown at the book, unnerved by the feeling of eyes watching me.
I return to my book again.
"Did your old school put a stick up your ass?"
I sigh as the noisy students get noisier. There's no point in trying to read through it. I put it away, staring blandly at the noisy ones. Glasses makes a motion towards the door and I notice a green-haired boy waving nervously back.
Why are they so energetic?
I scrub at my tired face and wait for the teacher to appear. The room gets even noisier when he does, crawling out of a sleeping bag to hand people their uniforms.
Why is he sleeping with our uniforms?
I skip the changing room and go to the bathroom instead. It fits perfectly. I haven't had something fit this well since… since…
Since my first foster home.
I stare at the mirror.
The girl there looks nothing like the one from back then. Large red marks scar most of my neck, looking like circular footprints marching up from my chest. My face, once pale, delicate, and dainty is now splotchy and pimpled. Skin pulled taut, eyes lined in deep circles.
I touch the mirror.
Is this what it means to be a hero? To be unrecognizable?