Unfortunately, I didn't just wake up the next morning with a hangover like always. Instead I had the most terrifying nightmare that I was falling, falling down, down so very far. I screamed, waking up on the cold, hard floor with what was sure to form into a bruise on my hip. For a second I wondered if I had just rolled out of bed and hit the floor in my bedroom, but there should have been carpet and I was most certainly aching against concrete. I quickly took in what little of my surroundings I could see in the pitch black dark, realizing I was in the basement. If I had been a sleep walker, I would have just gotten up and gone back to bed. But this had never happened to me before, so I began to cry.
Soon, my parents rushed in, quickly coming to me and throwing their arms around me. My mom was comforting me and promising me it was just a bad dream, sounding more like she was trying to assure herself. Dad however, backed away like I had a rash, staring and pointing at the ceiling while mumbling incoherently. My mom and I looked up to see what he was going on about to find parts of my sheets and a good portion of my pillow sticking through the basement ceiling. While my parents studied it, tried to shake themselves from the dreams they were sure they were having, and muttering to each other, my mind was reeling. It was like back in the club, wasn't it? I had slipped through my bed, the floor, who knows what else, and more floor, to land in the basement just as easily as swimming in a pool.
"Katherine," my father tried his best to sound warm and calm, but I could hear an edge to his voice. It didn't scare me so much as hurt me. He was pulling away from me, distancing himself from the freak his perfect daughter had suddenly become. I looked up at him, noticing a hint of fear in his eyes as I moved towards him. "Let's go upstairs."
"Yes, upstairs," my mother repeated. She quickly got up, pulling me with her, her arm never leaving me. I had always been a bit of a daddy's girl, so this was maybe even a little more unsettling than falling from through the ceiling. I tried not to think about it too much, focusing on trying to remember exactly how it had happened, both at the club last night and just minutes ago. Mom and I shuffled behind my Dad, going up the stairs and joining him in my parents' bedroom. For the rest of the night, we sat there, staring at each other, no one saying a word. An alarm eventually went off, the sound cutting through the uncomfortable silence like a butcher's knife and startling us all. My father immediately got up and turned it off, tightening his robe as he moved to the bathroom. I sat shell-shocked, listening to the shower being turned on. When he came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, shaved, and cleaned up, all I could do was stare at him.
"You'll be staying home from school today," he said evenly, though his eyes darted around the room to look anywhere but at me. Then without waiting for a response, he motioned to my mom, and headed downstairs.
"It's all okay, Katherine," my mom hugged me before following him. I watched her, mussy hair and wrinkled nightgown, as she stumbled out of the room. I sat still and listened to the thunks of her feet going down the stairs. I spent another couple minutes feeling sorry for myself and then I couldn't take it anymore. I raced to my room and quietly cleaned up and dressed before sneaking down the stairs. I was opening the door, almost home free, when I heard someone behind me.
"Katherine? Where are you going?" my mother whispered. I turned and wrapped my arms around her, feeling like such a little kid for just a moment.
"I just need to get out of here. I need to go to school and feel normal and not think about this. Please, mom," I begged in hushed tones, blinking back the tears I feared would escape any minute.
"Okay," she nodded, releasing me. I didn't even bother to thank her, gripping my backpack tightly, afraid it would fall through my fingers, I closed the door behind me and ran as fast as I could to the bus stop. I had almost missed it, the doors closing just as I had arrived, but quickly opening back up once the driver caught sight of me. With a sigh, I plopped into the nearest empty seat and hoped that the day could only get better.
The first thing I saw as I got off the bus, was Ross. He threw me a dirty look, the most acknowledgment he had ever shown me at school. I hardly thought about it, focusing instead on the black eye that was so swollen his eye hardly looked open. When did he get that? I shook it off and went inside, heading straight for my locker. Unfortunately, my day was getting worse by the second. Riley, a popular athletic girl who just happened to be Ross's girlfriend, and her friend Amy were waiting for me.
"Well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in," Riley and Amy snickered as I opened up my locker and began sorting my books.
"I can't believe she'd show her face after what she did," Amy spat causing me to look up.
"What do you mean what I did?" I wracked my brain for plausible things I might have done to offend them, but came up empty, well, at least of things that they might know about.
"Yeah right, like you don't know, freak," Riley glared.
"Freak," Amy repeated.
"Uh…" I wanted to kill Ross. Why would he, of all people, admit to meeting up with me?
"You started that earthquake last night, freak. You're one of those mutants," Riley and Amy surrounded me, their eyes narrowed.
"WHAT?! What are you talking about?" They were really scaring me now. What on earth was going on?
"Ross was just trying to stop you, and you sent a quake sending him flying into the wall. You're such a freak. Now you're going to pay. No one gives my boyfriend a black eye," and with that Riley pushed me back into my locker and slammed the door shut. I screamed, pounding on the door. I didn't start any quakes and I didn't give Ross a black eye. Why was he lying? Why was he letting Riley do this? Why were they calling me a mutant?
"Help!" I continued to scream and pound on the door. Eventually, I stopped, realizing either no one could hear me or no one cared. It didn't really matter, because either way I would be missing my next class, ruining the perfect attendance record I had kept ever since third grade. I would have had a perfect attendance for my entire school life, but in second grade I had missed a full week of school because I got the chicken pox. I stood in the cramped, dark locker, Riley's words slowly creeping in. A mutant. A freak. Maybe she didn't have the full story, but was she so wrong? I was on the verge of tears when I heard something, a whistling noise maybe.
"Hello?" I yelled cautiously. Maybe a teacher was roaming the hallways?
"Hello?" a voice responded nervously.
"Help! I'm stuck in here!" I pounded on the locker door, hoping that the material was thin enough that I could easily be heard.
"Uh, which locker?" the voice responded when I stopped my racket long enough to listen.
"This one!" I screamed in frustration and shook the locker with all my might. I was missing class, and really not in the mood to be stuck in here any longer.
"Whoa, calm down! I'll find you," the voice yelled back. Then I started to feel bad. Here was this stranger, whoever it was, maybe a teacher, trying to help me out and I was losing my nerve.
"It's my locker. Number 413. Riley and Amy shoved me in," I rested my head against the door, feeling more pathetic than ever.
"That sucks, I'm sorry," the voice cooed sympathetically. "What's your combination? I'll get you out."
"32, 16, ARGH!" I fell through the locker door and straight into whoever was trying to help me get out. We both crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, and screams. Luckily, whoever it was, had cushioned my fall. Unfortunately, that person had also just seen me go straight through a solid metal locker door. I looked up, trying to ready myself with an explanation when I saw familiar brown hair falling over dark chocolate eyes.
"You? You just…? Did you see what you just did?" the guy from last night was picking his head up from the floor and looking at me with an odd expression of confusion, relief, and excitement.
"Uh… what do you mean? I just fell out of the locker," I stammered.
"Yeah, right through the door!" he smiled. His smile was nice, warm, and comforting. I found myself lost for a second in it.
"You're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about," I argued, my heart pounding like crazy.
"Yes you do. You just fell though the locker like you fell through the wall last night. And you're crushing me," he squirmed a bit and I realized I was still laying on top of him.
"I didn't do anything," I sat up, straddling him, scared to let him up in case he ran off to tattle on my newfound intangibility. "You don't even know me."
"No, I don't. But I do know what I saw, and what I saw was that you're a mutant," he continued to smile as he, too, sat up. "Like me."
"What are you talking about? Who are you?" I scrambled off him, fear suddenly creeping in. That word. Mutant. The same thing Riley had called me.
"I'm Lance, and see I have an… ability, too," he stood up and then offered me his hand. I swatted it away, standing up on my own and giving him a quizzical look.
"Ability?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah. You can move through solid objects and I can… well," he looked around quickly and then balled his hands into fists. The earth suddenly moved beneath us. Out of some kind of instinct, I reached for him. Suddenly, the quakes stopped and his expression softened into concern.
"Wait… you… you can… you caused the quakes last night!" I backed away, feeling shocked and frightened, but oddly curious.
"Yeah, well, I probably should have come up with a better way to help you with Ross, but… it worked," he shrugged.
"I didn't ask for your help," I crossed my arms over my chest.
"You're welcome," he rolled his eyes. "Nice to meet you, too, Lance. My name is…"
"Did you give Ross that black eye?" I ignored his comment as I was too busy putting the pieces together.
"Yeah. The fat lip, too. But in my defense, he started it. I was just trying to go after you and make sure you were alright," he stepped closer, his eyes moving over me like they were examining me.
"I don't need a protector. I can take care of myself," I backed up.
"Oh yeah, sure. You did a crack job taking care of yourself with Ross last night, and then again today with Riley and Amy. You don't need any help at all do you, princess?" he smirked.
"Well, as you pointed out, I got out of the locker on my own. And I could have handled Ross, too," I stepped up, shoving my index finger against his chest. He didn't even budge, my finger bouncing pointlessly off the wall of muscle.
"Oh, really?" he moved even closer, our bodies just barely separated, our severe height difference causing him to tower over me. "What's a girl like you doing with a chump like him anyways?"
"Uh… well… I… uh… none of your business," I managed to get out, my mouth suddenly going as dry as the Sahara. What was it about him that was making me suddenly feel so self conscious? "Why do you care?"
"Uh… well… I… uh… none of your business," he mocked, though the smile that played at his lips wasn't vicious but playful.
"You're such a jerk," I huffed. I was a smart and witty girl. Why wasn't my brain functioning enough for a decent response?
"I'm a jerk? I've just saved your ass twice with no please or thank you and I'm a jerk?" he countered. "You could use to learn to show a little gratitude, little girl."
"ARGH! I am not a little girl, so stop calling me one! And if I wanted your help, I would say please. If I needed your help, I'd say thank you. Otherwise, just… leave me alone!" I yelled before turning on my heel to storm off.
"I'll see you around, you know, the next time I'm helping you out," his laugh rang in my ears, causing my blood to boil. "So, see you in half an hour?"
"How about never? That work for you?" I whirled around. He looked so relaxed, his eyes dancing and his mouth smiling as he leaned against the lockers casually. It was almost as if he was enjoying torturing me.
"Ooh, feisty," he held up his hands with a smirk, feigning alarm. "Kitten's got some claws."
"It's Kitty. My name is Kitty," I corrected, my hands immediately falling to my hips. "Not Kitten. Not Kitty cat. Just Kitty."
"Kitty," he said my name like he was rolling it around in his head. I could feel a blush creeping up my neck as he thoughtfully looked me over. He had me so confused, spitting out seeming insults one minute and gazing at me appreciatively the next. "It suits you."
"Really?" I cocked my head, wondering if he was being serious or if he was just setting himself up for a joke.
"Sure it does. Here pretty Kitty," he reached his arms out and called in a baby voice, answering my question quickly.
"Shove off…. Ava-Lance," I shot back, even wincing as I dubbed him with a terrible nickname.
"Wow… that was… corny," he chuckled. "What are you going to call me next? Lancelot?"
"Oh, go to hell," I groaned and started to leave. Maybe he got his rocks off teasing people, but I had enough of this. Damn, that would have been a good line to use.
"Rock you later, Kitten," he called after me, emphasizing the fact that he was purposely calling me a name I had told him not to just minutes earlier.
"It's Kitty, Sir Quakes-a-lot," I countered, shaking my head at myself at the even worse nickname. I refused to look back though. I just needed to keep walking.
"Still weak! But we'll work on it!" His laugh continued to echo down the hall as I walked away. Despite my best efforts, that laugh would echo in my head for years to come.