Chapter 2-2

History class.

Well, I guess there was something that could sour my mood. Thank you, universe. Not that I hated history class itself, it was just that the bullies ruined it like everything else. Most of that was thanks to Mr. Glady. He was a nice guy, ironically, but he was also the kind of teacher that wanted to be the student's friend. This usually meant that he let us work in groups most of the time. I suppose that's great if you've got a lot of friends of your own: plenty of time to socialize. However, I didn't have any friends, so I ended up being grouped with other 'losers' or one of the trio's cronies who would use the opportunity to make my life miserable for the general amusement of all. On top of that, Mr. Glady was completely oblivious to the bullying, even if it happened right in front of him. Have I mentioned how much I hated history class?

At least I'd done my homework. Spent all weekend working on a detailed essay on how superheroes affected our lives and the world around us. I was actually quite proud of it, which doesn't happen often with a piece of homework. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was a cape now. This sort of thing appealed to me more than it used to. At any rate, I was sure that I would get a good grade for it. Given how my grades have been in the gutter since I started high school, it could have been a good way of salvaging at least one of them. Or it would have been, if one of the trio's little helpers hadn't stolen it from under my nose, gave it to Emma, who then presented my work as if it were her own. Fuck her, fuck her triumphant smirk, and fuck Mr. Glady for applauding her for something I did.

Then, just when the day couldn't get any worse, the bell rang and Mr. Glady called me over. Great, now he's going to chew me out for not doing my homework too. I took a deep breath and walked to his desk. Maybe I could tell him that it had been stolen? Nah, it wouldn't change anything. I had no proof and not enough emotional reserves left to argue with him. God knows, I needed them just to get to the day without melting the ear-drums of everyone in the school.

Mr. Glady looked at me with an unusually stern look on his face. "Taylor, I'm not stupid."

"Umm, okay?" I asked, not sure how to respond.

"I do know what's going on in my classroom. I know there are students in my class giving you a hard time."

"Sure."

"This has been going on for a very long time, hasn't it? I know about the incident at the start of the year, with the locker. All of your teacher had a meeting about that. I'm also not stupid enough to think that that was the last of it."

I didn't know what to feel. It was nice that someone, anyone, had finally read the writing on the wall. On the other hand, I didn't want the attention. It would just give the bullies another excuse to 'teach me my place'. That, and every moment I spent here was one I couldn't use to look for another hiding place. My heart sank; I had forgotten to look for another one now that the bathrooms had been discovered. Where would I go now?

"I asked you after someone smeared glue on your seat a few weeks ago." Mr. Glady continued. "I'm going to ask you again: will you come with me to the principal's office?"

I wanted to. God help me, I wanted to. Even just being heard out might make me feel better. "What would happen?"

"We'll have a discussion. You can tell us which one of your classmates have been bullying you and we'll talk to them."

"But they wouldn't get expelled?"

"If there's enough proof, they'll be suspended for a few days, unless they've done something really bad. If they keep up the bullying, expulsion will be considered."

In other words, the school would do exactly what it had been doing for the past two years: nothing of value. Just a slap on the wrist to convince themselves they're actually doing something. "Which basically means that they'll get a few days off to prepare the next horrible prank, and only if I can prove that they're the ones making my life a living hell."

"You have to start somewhere, Taylor."

I shook my head. "Unless the bullies get expelled or I get a transfer, all I'll end up doing is paying for the time lost with interest." When the teacher didn't answer, I turned around and left.

Right into the hands of Sophia, Emma, Madison, and a posse of their friends.

I tried to walk past them, but they surrounded me, slowly pushing me into a corner. Not hard enough to attract attention, of course. Just blocking the way with their bodies so that I couldn't get past them without pushing them away. Then, they started talking.

"Nobody likes her, nobody wants her here."

"Such a loser, she didn't even turn in the major art project on Friday."

"Why's she even coming to school if she's not going to try?"

It's the same thing they've been doing for months. They're not actually saying hurtful things to my face, that would be bullying. No, they're just saying hurtful things to each other, which is nothing more than gossip. That I happen to be so close that I would have heard them perfectly even without super-hearing is my own problem. They bent the rules in a way that only high schoolers could think of.

"Ugliest girl in our grade."

At this point, I wasn't even wasting the energy trying to tell who said what. It wouldn't matter anyway. The girls had me in a corner and were just slugging random insults at me like I was some verbal scratching pole. The point wasn't being smart, or even to say something that really hit the mark. They just wanted to hammer it in. Just a show of superiority. To wail at me until I broke down and started crying. The girls talked fast, one after another, building up a sort of momentum that made it impossible to interrupt without being talked over. If only I could interrupt one of them somehow, say something to throw them off their rhythm…

"She never talks to anybody. Maybe she knows she sounds like a retard and keeps her mouth shut."

"Nah, she's not that smart."

Behind me, I could see Mr. Glady leave his classroom. The girls didn't let up, even though a teacher was standing right next to them.

"If I were her, I'd kill myself."

Mr. Glady looked me in the eye.

"So glad we don't have gym with her. Can you imagine seeing her in the locker room? Gag me with a spoon."

I looked back at him. You wanted proof? Here it was. All he needed to do is say something. Come forward, warn the principal, and all this would go away. He just needed to do his job as a teacher. The man knew what was going on. He knew that I needed help, real help.

Instead, he turned around and walked away.

There were no words.

"What's the matter, Taylor? You look upset." Emma spoke up for the first time.

I wanted to punch her. If we'd all been guys, it probably would have worked too. I'd get my ass kicked, sure, but the school couldn't have ignored it. Couldn't just walk away…

"So upset you're going to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week?"

I…

My mind shut down as I processed the words. After my mother died in a car accident, I was in a rough shape. Dad pretty much sunk into a depression which pretty much left me on my own. I couldn't deal with it and wept for a week. I told Emma this a month later. I admitted it to her because I thought she was a real friend. Like a sister I never had. Someone who would never in the whole wide world betray me.

Now, it's just another memory she turned against me. I loved my mother and it felt like a piece of my soul had been torn out when she died. It was one of those memories that I forcibly shut out, even on a good day. It just hurts too much to think about it.

Her grin widened. She must have seen the pained look on my face. Emma hit a nerve and she knew it. Goddammit, she knew exactly which button to press.

"Oh, look," one of the girls shouted, excitedly, "she's crying!"

She was right too. A tear wormed its way down my face. Followed by another. And another. I couldn't stop them. Dammit, why couldn't I stop them?

I needed to get out of here. I needed to go anywhere but here. I pushed my way past the girls and took three steps before my bag was yanked of my shoulder. Sophia, of course, proudly standing over my bag like a huntress over her prey. I pulled the bag from under her feet and bolted. I didn't care where I was going. I didn't care the girls were still watching, jeering, and laughing at me. I didn't even care about my stuff being damaged or me skipping another afternoon. I just needed to go.

I ran around the docks aimlessly for at least an hour before collapsing on a bench and crying like a baby. Some people passed by, but they ignored the weeping teenage girl who should probably be in school right about now. Probably for the best. I just…I just needed to be alone. It took nearly half an hour before I got a hold of myself again. Part of me wanted to go back, armored up, glaive drawn. Cut the girls to pieces and disappear. There're plenty of warehouses around that I could disappear into for a few minutes while I changed. No one would have to know it was me. I'd be doing the universe a favor too…

Except mom would roll over in her grave. Dad would never speak with me again. Armsmaster…he let me go yesterday because he thought I was a hero. If I slaughtered the bullies and he found out what I did…

I laughed through my tears. Look at me, giving a damn about the opinion of a guy I barely met. How fucked up has my life become?

Taking slow, deep breaths, I forcibly calmed myself down. My muscles were screaming. The last time I pushed myself this far had been a few days after I left the hospital following the locker incident. Dad came home, having spoken with the school administration. Since the school supposedly didn't know who had stuffed me in the locker, they had given my dad a pile of 'shut-up money' and sent him on his way. He said they'd investigate, but I already knew how that would turn out. Back then, I was a mess: still in shock; trying and failing to process all the input my freshly changed senses were giving me. I went on a walk later that night, trying to clear my head. When it didn't work, I ran faster. I kept pushing myself until I was too tired to take another step. Without thinking, I ended up in some abandoned warehouse, knocked over a few crates and collapsed.

The next thing I remembered was my skin being ripped apart. For over thirty minutes, I trashed and screamed as my body remade itself. Then, the pain vanished as suddenly as it began. That had been the first time the armor had come out, and the only time it had happened without me being totally calm and willingly calling for it.

It took me three hours of begging, praying, and panicking before I calmed down enough to make it go away. It took another week for me to really grasp what had happened to me. Needless to say, I didn't want it to happen again without my consent. Transforming hurts a lot.

I looked at my watch. It was quarter past two. It would still be a couple of hours before Dad came home. What should I do with the rest of the afternoon? Better yet, what was I supposed to do with the rest of the week? Or the year? The bullies weren't going to stop, the school was no help either, and my dad didn't have the connections to help. Then again, I did have a way out. I could take Armsmaster's offer. I had powers and I did manage beat Lung on my own. That should be more than enough to get a place in the Wards. I could…I could start over. The Wards would send me to Arcadia High, away from the bullies, and I would be doing something that I could be proud off.

God help me, the Wards really was my best, no, the only way out. What else could I do? Things weren't going to get better on their own. As the saying goes, it's the definition of insanity to do the same thing over and over again and expect a different result. Way things were going, it'd only a matter of time before I snap and gutted someone. I made a promise to myself. I didn't want to break it.

But if I was going to join the Wards, I'd have to tell my dad.

Fuck.