Chapter 04: Control
Give it a week, Leonardo. Be fair. It was only Tuesday. Just because he couldn't make Michelangelo sit still or unsure Donatello remained mindful of his super-strength didn't mean they'd blow their cover so soon. Besides, he still had one brother he could watch.
Leo glanced towards the classroom's back corner then scowled. Sleeping again? Hadn't Sensei's lecture last night meant anything to Raphael?
"Leonardo-san? Sumimasen."
Leo turned aside, silent.
His dark-haired neighbor scrunched his nose. Or maybe it naturally grew that way, like a rabbit's. "I think the paper has surrendered," he said in a thick Japanese accent.
The teen looked at his hands. They shook and strangled a brochure some underclassman had handed over before class.
"Is this your first time?" his neighbor whispered.
"Pardon?"
"Public schooling." The Asian shifted so he leaned on an elbow. "My Freshman year, a group of home school students enrolled. They would wring things too. But the tests aren't so hard."
"Tests don't bother me," Leo whispered back.
"Something must. Crowds?"
"No."
"The smell?"
"What? No."
"The clock then? One girl from that group I mentioned would literally run from class because she couldn't stand the ticking."
"But the clock is digital."
"That was the sad part."
"Look, everything's fine." With a sigh, Leo glanced over his shoulder. Yup, still sleeping.
"Ah." His neighbor nodded. "Brother?"
"That obvious?"
The Asian sniggered, but fell silent when the English teacher turned. A moment passed before the teacher returned to his lesson.
"You cannot control him, Leonardo-san. But you can control yourself."
"I am controlled."
"No. Your tension runs deep—deeper than a brother falling asleep in class."
Leo glared. How could his classmate know that?
"I had read a similar Chi with one of those homeschoolers," the Asian said.
"Just who are you?" whispered Leo.
"Miyamoto, Yōjinbō."
"Yōjinbō? As in a 'bouncer'?"
The Asian smiled, his flat nose pulling upwards. "Parents, eh? Call me Usagi though. Usagi-san. I'm still unnerved by America's blatant informality."
"Usagi-san?"
Usagi tapped his nose. Guess Leo hadn't been to first to compare the Asian to a rabbit.
"Alright, Usagi-san," Leo started, "care to explain how you sense others' Chi?"
"Later," Usagi answered. "We can't get away with talking forever."
"But—"
"If you're as controlled as you claim, you'll manage."
Leonardo's lips pursed at Usagi's sly smile.
"Relax, Leonard-san. I mean no harm."
'He's right. Get a grip, Leo, or else you'll be the one to blow your cover.'
And Raph would never let him live that down.
Leonardo eased his grip, taking a deep breath. He looked at his hands as Usagi sat back in his seat. Although the brochure was crinkled, he scanned the extracurricular activities. One in particular stood out.
Martial Arts. 3:15 pm to 4:30 pm. Health Credit Certified. Gi not included. Contact Neo Anders for further information.
Leo stuffed the paper in his pocket. He knew he shouldn't give in. His shape-shifting was hard to control in a fight. Still...it couldn't hurt to take a peek. He was, after all, more controlled than his brothers.
Raphael stormed the school hallway. So what if he was heading away from his next class? He'd rather be late than suffer anymore nagging from Leonardo.
Why don't you apply yourself? Why can't you stay awake for a few hours? Don't you care what Sensei said?
Raph rolled his eyes. 'He acts all high 'n mighty. Control yourself, Raphael. Spare me. He isn't any better. He's gotten inta fights too.'
Maybe not as many as Raph. That was beside the point, though.
'I can't do what he does. I can't compartmentalize. If someone's bein' hurt, I—'
"Shit!" Raph cried. He back-stepped, rubbing his chest where something hard had jabbed him. "What? The hall ain't big enough?" he asked.
On the floor, a brunette scrambled for the things she had dropped. Her head ducked, her short hair unkempt, and when she leaned over to pick up a sketchbook, Raph wondered how her huge ass fit inside her jean shorts.
"Sorry," she said. Between the student traffic and her winded breathing, it was hard to tell she spoke at all.
"Whatever. Just—" Raph knelt to help gather a few stray papers. He glossed them over then paused. The drawings were good. Like, hyper-realistic good. "Wait a minute." He stared closer at a boy sticking out his tongue. "I know this idiot. Oi!"
The brunette jumped, dropping her books again.
"Ya know Mikey?" he asked.
The brunette jerked her head up and down in short motions.
"Where from?"
The brunette looked up. How she could see through her shaggy bangs was a mystery, but she snatched the papers from Raphael with ease.
"Hey, I asked where from," Raph said.
"Art," she answered. "Now may I—I please go?"
"Geez, I'm just makin' conversation. Ya're da one who ran inta me wit' yer…what is that?"
"An easel. I—I'm sorry. I'll step aside next time."
"Yeah, sure, just…" Raph trailed off as the brunette rounded him. She walked as defeated as she sounded, like zombie.
'Maybe her bro tells her what she can't do too,' the tan teen thought.
Speaking of…
'I should skip fourth period. History puts me to sleep worse than English.'
Where to play Hooky though? Raph hummed, continuing down the hall. It was no longer filled with suckers who obeyed their schedules—save for two rebels.
"LH, the papers," one said.
"I have them, Mel, but you should know—"
"Melody Gray," Raphael interjected. His arms crossed as Gray's over-sized lips pursed.
"Shouldn't you be in History?" she asked.
"Shouldn't ya?"
"You both should actually," the largest teen said. "I have Math however."
Raph faced him. "Lucas, was it?"
"Lucas Harrison, yeah. But call me LH. Too many, uh, bad cases of being called Lu. Or…Lulu."
"I stopped those names," Gray said.
"Like ya stopped Amanda Hall?"
The redhead lifted her strong chin. "That's my business. Now care to get out of the way, Hamato?"
"It's a big hall," Raph retorted. He planted his sneakers.
Gray steeled at the challenge. Her eyes flashed and for a long moment, she mirrored the tan teen. But when his smirk returned, she did nothing more than toy with her wild dreadlocks.
"You're petty," she said. "In my world, that attitude will get you killed."
"Yer world?" Raph echoed. What bullshit.
Gray snorted. "People with the smallest minds often have the biggest mouths."
"That a quote?"
"It's truth. So get your big mouth away from me. I'd rather deal with your seat-stealing brother. Least he's quiet."
"Which one? Don? Leo 'n Mike sure ain't quiet."
"Don?" LH asked. He stood straight, looming over two heads taller than Raph. "As in Donatello Hamato? He's your bother?"
Raph craned his neck backwards to meet LH's smile. "Yeah. Why? What's he said about me?"
"Nothing that hasn't already been proven," Gray said.
Raphael faced her with narrowed eyes. He felt heat spread through his palms and clenched them to keep their acid contained.
"Let's not get out of hand," LH said with a forced laugh. "Melody," his voice lowered, "you just got back into school. Every suspension cuts your college selection and you don't have many options left."
"How do you know that?" Gray hissed.
"Uh, rumors? Never mind. Just…consider the others."
"I never should've taken you there."
"But then I—I never would've agreed to our deal."
Gray and LH shared a look and Raph spread his arms, asking,
"I'm missin' somethin', ain't I?"
Gray sent a dead stare. "I'm not answering that."
"Good idea," a new voice added. "Ya've talked enough."
Was that a Brooklyn accent? Raph turned with a raised eyebrow. A man approached, dressed in casual slacks and a button-up shirt that looked misplaced on his buff form.
"Ya a hall monitor?" Raph asked. "Ya look like a mook."
"An' ya look like a punk," the man countered.
"Mister Jones," Gray started, "we were just heading for class."
"Nearly fifteen minutes late. Also, don't call me Jones."
"Casey. We're leaving."
"An' I would love ta let ya go. Really."
Gray's shoulders slumped. "But we—"
Casey shrugged like the action pained him. "I physically can't, Melody. We've got cameras this year. If I let ya slide, it's on my head. I already stuck my neck out ta ya reenrolled, an' if I lose this job, my Mama will skin me."
Raph smirked. "Ya still live wit' yer mom?"
"Somethin' wrong wit' mamas, punk?"
Slowly, Raph's humor died. "I…wouldn't know."
"Then don't talk about my mama." Casey jotted something in a leather-back book with a frown. "I feel like I'm givin' these away for a sweepstakes."
"Givin' what away?" Raphael was answered with a yellow ticket.
"Detention," said Casey. He handed similar papers to Gray and LH, although theirs didn't sizzle. "Come on, guys. Don't give me those faces. I'm on yer side."
"Looks it," Raph grumbled.
"I can only control so much." Sighing, the man ran a hand through his greasy hair. "When I got fists fights, punks loiterin', an' girls stealin' class pets, I have no choice."
"Who steals a class pet?" questioned LH.
"Nia Anders," Casey answered. "She didn't say why. If ya're curious, ask her. After school. Now get ta class."
"Well," Raph started, "we already got detention, so…why bother?"
Casey smirked. "'Cuz it means the difference between one day's detention an' a week's detention."
"Thought ya said ya were on our side."
"I am. Any oddah jerk wouldn't 'a givin' ya a choice."
Che. Fine. Raph waved the paper in Casey's smug face and squeezed it to mask the fact that his acid ate at it. He had enough sense not to toss it and so he stuffed it in his jacket pocket before turning his back on the trio.
"Guess I'll be seein' ya later," he said.
And, no, he wasn't looking forward to it.
A/N: Please understand: "Morphosis" isn't my main project. I know it's been a while, and I thank all of you for supporting this world thus far. Honest. I've just been in a slump and want to focus on "The Distance". More chapters are still planned, however. Happy reading! C:
