"So you were besties with Winslow's queen bitch? How the hell did that happen?"
We were at our usual spot, the stairs by the second floor landing. It was as far from the cafeteria as we could get, the perfect spot for Winslow's underclass of losers to gather and kill forty minutes of lunch relatively undisturbed. If you weren't at least moderately popular, athletic, or part of a gang, you'd end up here. Most of us weren't friends. Still, I'd miss at least some of them.
Grimacing slightly, I glanced over at Julia who'd asked the question. She'd drawn the ire of Emma's posse over some imagined slight in gym class a few days ago, and was their designated target of the week now. They'd been tossing candy bar wrappers at Julia to taunt her about her rather unfortunate weight, and she'd arrived at lunch with tears in her eyes.
"Sort of, yeah. We met in middle school. She was always a social butterfly, and I was always… well, me. When we started high school it became pretty obvious that wasn't going to fly. She dropped me like a hot potato."
"And now she hates your guts."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Mmmm, potatoes. Probably, doesn't help that you hang out with disreputable characters like me."
The others laughed nervously at Vicky's joke that wasn't a joke. There was a kernel of truth there. Even among the sediment of the second floor landing, I was the only person who'd admit to being friends with Victoria Dallon. My position at the bottom of the social ladder made sense - I was the poor, dorky girl, who the prom queen had a grudge against. Vicky though, by rights she should have been dancing on the top rung. She was smart and stunningly good looking in a Hollywood-cheerleader way, and yet she didn't even have a place on the ladder. People like Julia and I ranked high enough to at least be subjected to occasional bullying; Vicky was shunned entirely.
"No, they've never needed an excuse to pull the crap they pull. I actually think they mess with me less because of you. They're afraid of you."
For a split second the smile dropped from her face and she just looked tired and sad. Then the signature mask of cheerfulness was back.
"Ah, so that's why you keep me around," she joked.
Everyone knew who she was, and that's why no one wanted anything to do with her. After PRSA-3 was passed, New Wave had been forcibly disbanded by the PSD. Her parents had died in a battle that wrecked two city blocks, fighting alongside villains. The rest of her family were now serving time for treason. She was an orphan, the daughter of traitors, and a latent parahuman. She had even less to lose than I did.
An uncomfortable silence stretched for a minute before one of Julia's friends broke it by changing the subject. "So, coronal scans are scheduled for next week. Think anyone's going to be outed? Empire's got a couple of teenage paras. I'd love to see them get dragged off by the PSD. Maybe we'll see a cape fight!" She said it in a chipper tone that made me want to punch her in the face. Vicky flinched visibly, and I barely prevented myself from doing the same.
"Not going to happen," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not like rogues are going to show up for scans knowing they'll be discovered. And the Empire's definitely got ways to get around it."
She shrugged sullenly, annoyed that I'd put a damper on her idea, then brightened again. "Right, but we'll be able to tell who the capes are by who doesn't show up on Monday!" She glanced at Vicky with a malicious glint in her eyes. "It was all over the news last year when they took down those rogues who skipped out. Oh, Victoria, they were your cousins weren't they?"
Vicky lowered her head, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her mask had slipped again, her face twisted in grief and anger. Her cousins - Crystal and Eric Pelham - had both triggered last year and tried to hide it. They'd been discovered when they hadn't shown up at school for the biannual coronal scans.
"That's enough," I said quietly.
"Where did they ship them off to again, Vicky? Fort Lindbergh?"
"I said that's enough," I repeated, raising my voice.
She gave me another sour look, but shut up.
"Come on Vicky, we've got class in five minutes. See you guys around."
I got up off the stairs and helped her up. With a desultory wave to the others, we left.
"Thanks for shutting her up," Vicky muttered. "If you hadn't I'd probably have clocked her."
"Hey, no worries," I said, "Clara's a bitch."
"Yeah. It's just… the scans have got me kind of tense."
"Yeah."
I had Chemistry next and she had Spanish, both at the other end of the floor. Lunch hadn't ended yet, so the hallway was deserted. As we walked, I tried to work up the courage to tell Vicky what I was planning. This might be one of the last opportunities I had to speak with her alone before Monday; I had to be gone by then. But what if she said no? Worse, what if she just decided to turn me in? She had seen first hand what could happen if you tried to run from them. She may have been a latent para, but while she remained untriggered she still had a shot at a normal life.
"Vicky…" I began, my heart leaping into my throat.
She turned, eyebrows raised. "What's up?"
The bell chimed signalling the end of lunch, and my resolve slipped.
"Never mind. I'll talk to you after school, okay?"
She gave me a quizzical look, but nodded. The hallways filled with students coming back from lunch, and I slipped into my classroom while she walked on towards hers. Emma and a few of her friends entered the room a minute later and took their usual seats. Emma twisted to face me from across the room, and was about to say something when the teacher walked in. Class began, but I was barely paying attention to what was happening. I kept my head down for the rest of the lesson, managed to avoid Emma while leaving, and made it to World Affairs - my last class of the day.
I settled in at the back of the classroom again and tried to avoid attention as Mr. Gladly started droning on.
"By the mid '90's the rationale behind regulating parahuman activity was clear. Manton and Ewing had already identified behavioural disorders that affected parahumans, such as the compulsion to use preternatural abilities violently, and other conflict seeking behaviour. They classified these disorders as symptoms of Parahuman Cognitive Syndrome. The passage of the PSD Enlistment Act was the culmination of these regulatory efforts in the United States. Of course, some nations have taken a more liberal approach to governing their parahuman populations, but-"
I tuned him out and put my head down.
Just forty five minutes more.
This morning I had gotten out of bed thinking I could just have one last normal school day, but intrusive thoughts kept creeping in. It's not that high school had been enjoyable at all, but it was safe. It was mundane. Until six months ago, the worst I had to worry about was grades and schoolyard bullies. Then dad died, and it had all changed.
It sounded so trite when I thought of it like that. Tragedies happened everyday, especially in the interesting times we lived in. Children lost parents and parents lost children; the paradigm shifted, and the survivors moved on in one way or another. I came out indelibly marked by it. I didn't ask for it, but the day after the funeral I woke with what they called 'preternatural abilities', and the countdown began. As soon as I was discovered - and I would be, on Monday - I'd have a target painted on my back.
Fuck this. There's nothing left for me here.
I discreetly pulled out my cellphone and texted Vicky.
/rear field, 5 mins/
/?/
/just come. i gotta talk to you./
/ok omw/
Breathing deeply, I picked up my bag and headed to the door quickly. Behind me I heard Mr. Gladly asking where I was going, and I just muttered 'toilet' over my shoulder. I walked out without looking back. Quickly, I made my way through the quiet hallways to rear field exit, and stepped out. I leaned against the wall, shut my eyes, and took another deep breath to calm myself.
This is it. Whatever happens, after this I'm gone.
I opened my eyes when I sensed someone approaching. Glancing up, I realized it wasn't who I was expecting. In my haste to leave I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings; Emma had followed me from class, and she'd brought company.
"Skipping class, Taylor? That's naughty of you. I should probably tell Mr. Gladly."
"What do you want Emma?"
"You've been avoiding me Taylor, all week. I just wanted to catch up with an old friend."
I don't have time for this. I needed to leave, and do it without drawing too much attention. I could figure out a way to meet up with Vicky later.
"Meeting someone? Your mutant girlfriend?"
I turned to leave, ignoring her, and was stopped when she shoved me back with one hand. It wasn't very hard, but still caught me by surprise.
"I'm talking to you, Taylor."
"Fuck off."
Her eyes widened. I never talked back - usually because it wasn't worth it, since she thrived on the attention. Face twisting in anger her hand swung towards me in an opened handed slap. She was even more surprised when I caught her wrist with my left hand. No one ever touched her. She was positively shocked when I punched her in the gut with my right.
She backed away, doubled over. 'You're done," she snarled, "You attacked me, you psycho. I'm going to have you expelled."
I was grinning now. This was surprisingly cathartic. "Fine by me, Emma," I said. "I was actually meaning to say goodbye. And I didn't attack you, I defended myself. I am about to attack you though."
I charged forward, my shoulder hitting her in the chest, and we went sprawling onto the field. The next minute was a vicious blur as we rolled around in the grass clawing at each other. I hissed as her nails gouges my side, and heard a corresponding shriek as my fist connected with her face. Inevitably her lackeys jumped in to help, and I ended up pinned to the ground with Emma on my chest while they held down my arms and legs.
It would be easy, so easy to just swarm them. I could cover them with ants and wasps, fill their faces wth formic acid and apitoxins. Emma would never model again. But no. Outing myself now would cost me a two day head start. So I just laughed while Emma screamed obscenities in my face, cradling her bruised nose.
"You bitch," she screeched, drawing back a fist to hit me again.
Somewhere behind me, I sensed someone slipping out of the building, approaching us. And then something started happening, even before Emma's fist connected.
"Get away from her, you cunt!"
And then I blacked out.
When I came to, I was still on my back in the field. Emma and her friends were on the ground several meters away, staring in my direction. A rising, almost unnatural sense of panic drove me to my feet, and that's when I saw Vicky. She was in front of me, hovering a meter above the field. She was staring at her hands with her face set in a rictus of horror.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she whispered under her breath.
I approached her unsteadily. "Vicky, you just triggered." She stared at me. Our attention snapped back to Emma's group, where someone was screaming. They were on their feet, making their way back to the school building. Emma was sobbing, her left arm dangling loosely by her side as her friends helped her inside.
Out of time. I had to act now. Turning back to Vicky, I stretched out my arm upwards to grab her hand. "We have to go. Do you understand?"
That seemed to snap her back to reality. She drifted back down, stumbling a little when she landed.
"Taylor, they're going to come for me. You need to get away."
"Vicky, we can run."
"You're not involved in this Taylor. You don't know what you're saying."
"Yes," I said, calling my swarm. "I do."
