Don't click off! It's got new stuff!
I've added more to the cafeteria scene and a new scene to the end of the chapter.
Chapter 5: A New Hero
Kaitlyn's POV
As I wake, my stomach flares in protest to consciousness. Each breath I take is accompanied by fire. The slightest twitch sends bullets into my midsection.
I smile.
Moving slowly and meticulously, I push myself from under my covers and into the slit of sunshine across my room. As my midsection burns, my smile remains; the flame of a defiance bursts colour into my dull room, the dull bathroom, the dull house and my dull life. My stomach is a puddle of repulsive colour, but at least I now see it as colour.
Even as I delicately wash around my stomach, I relish each wince and jerk that stokes the embers in my heart and mind. While I carefully get dressed, while I make a more substantial breakfast for myself this morning, while I head out to catch the bus, still that continues to glow, stubbornly and resiliently. That glow hums within me, resonating until I swear the birds around me can hear it, and I'm expecting to hear its feedback through my headphones.
Skipping over everything that a subconscious part of me considers to not suit my mood – as is normal – I make Nickelback, Muse, Halestorm, some of the Fairy Tail soundtrack, the epic side of Lindsey Stirling and Glee, Owl City and many other awesome stuff my soundtrack to start the day. When the others get on the bus, I take out my earbuds and grin at them.
"Hey, guys."
They seem to do a double-take as they catch sight of me and my new air of determination, and my grin only widens.
"Hey, Kait. You seem cheerful this morning. Good night?" Layla inquires.
Resisting the impulse to roar with laughter like I never have before, I simply shrug. "Actually, pretty terrible. So I'm just glad to be back."
Will's face falls. "Sorry to hear that. Want to talk about it?"
My grin remains. "Nah, just stupid stuff. I'm fine – better than fine – now that I'm back at school."
Layla smiles, obviously bemused but happy for my happiness. "Okay, then. Glad you're well."
I giggle in amusement and elation.
The rest of the bus journey consists of me listening happily to the others' conversations, chipping in whenever they encouraged it, and preparing myself for the daily Leap of Death before realising that I'm actually starting to enjoy the rush. As we step off the bus, I send a quick "thanks, see ya" to Ron then inform the guys that I have something to do before form time, so I would see them at lunch. They wave me goodbye before departing for their own classroom while I take a detour to the Nurse's Office.
I knock briefly before waiting to Julie's voice to welcome me in.
"Hi, Julie," I say a little sheepishly to her back as she rummages in a cupboard.
As she turns around, her face flicks between different emotions; surprise, most likely that someone would call her so personally, happiness to see the student she had befriended yesterday, then finally sympathetic dread as she realises that that same student she had treated yesterday is back barely over twelve hours later.
"Hello, dear."
I grin wryly. "Yeah. Didn't have a great night. Got any more of that cream?"
"Of course, dear. Just sit on the bench a moment while I get it out, and you should be able to get to class before it starts."
"Thanks."
Jumping up onto the bench, I swing my feet lightly in the air and gently dance in time to a Pentatonix song still playing in my head. I return the smile Julie gives me as she turns around holding the pot of the cream, pulling my top up carefully to give her access to my bruise.
As she starts applying the cream, she glances back up at me, smiling wider. "You seem different this morning."
"Oh?" I laugh. "In what way?"
"You're more confident," she replies immediately. "You're more comfortable in your own skin, battered and bruised though it may be. It's like you've got a plan for your life for the first time."
As she finishes and I pull my T-shirt back down again, I grin and wink at her. "Pretty much."
She laughs, my euphoria contagious. "I'm so glad to see you so happy."
"It's thanks to you, Julie," I say, hopping off the bench. "You told me I was strong. I've never been told that before, and I've certainly never thought it myself. So I'm giving it a try: being strong."
Her smile turns tender as she stares at my resolve. "Then the world had better prepare itself for this new hero."
ЖЖЖ
I manage to slip into first lesson history before the bell goes, and the teacher – some old guy who has the look of "history teacher" to a 'T' – enters the room just as I take my seat. I nod and smile to some classmates I had extended interactions with yesterday, relishing in the fact that they return the gesture, that it appeared natural for them to greet me pleasantly. Before yesterday, before Julie actually saw me for the first time, I'd never even dreamed that receiving friendliness should be normal for me, that I even deserved it. Now, this new mentality that the way I'm treated by everyone from my past is unusual, is wrong, I suddenly have the strength of will to fight it, and any affirmation of my quest energises me.
Newsflash: history class in a super-school is just as boring as in a regular school. I can't remember the important dates for the life of me, and I have zero interest in who these people were unless they did something that we can learn things from; defeating a supposedly undefeatable villain with a certain technique or trick; constructing some kind of improvised equipment to aid the situation; or doing certain things in a specific order that wouldn't have normally been done but actually worked better on hindsight. Don't just tell me that so-and-so was a hydrokinetic like me, only tell me that if I can actually learn something from them that I can use, rather than just for the sake of stuffing random facts in my brain.
By the end of the lesson, and I'm almost asleep and, at best, have learned very little. I breathe out a sigh of relief and resignation as I put my new textbook in my bag, then laugh at myself. Here I am, moaning about having to take a class that I don't like. I feel almost…normal. The thought makes me grin.
Next we have Strategy and Tactics again, so it'll be good to go back to a class I already know and, shockingly, think I might be good at. We've got Mad Science later. That's going to be really exciting. I think it'll be alright.
ЖЖЖ
We're let out of Mad Science class early, so I head to the cafeteria to save a table for the others. In the corridor, however, I see Speed and Lash snickering between themselves as they make their way towards the cafeteria; my direction.
I told them to bring it on, I know. And I am not regretting making that decision, nor am I retracting the challenge. But now's not the right time. They're still too strong, and I'm not in quite the optimum position. When I'm in the right situation to leave them completely and utterly humiliated, taking our relationship on a complete U-turn, then I'll take action.
As such, I decide to lay low and play as weak as I've always been with them. Taking long strides and keeping my head down, I head over to the cafeteria too, but hope to get there before them and find some other hero company, so I won't be the lone and easy target.
The cafeteria is practically empty, with the exception of Warren Peace at his own table, glancing over some notes, and a few other heroes. Of course; that's just my luck.
Making a quick decision so I can keep walking away from Speed and Lash before they catch me up, I walk deliberately and quickly over to Warren's table, placing my bag down on the chair next to the one opposite him as if it were the most casual thing ever. For the second time in as many days, I ignore Warren's incredulous stares as I sit down with my back to the entrance of the cafeteria. Keeping a friendly and relaxed expression on my face, I speak in hushed tones that only he can hear.
"Please, don't kill me and/or kick me off your table."
Noticing the incongruity of my expression and my tone, Warren halts in any kind of verbal or physical attack, frowning. After a few seconds, he raises his eyebrow.
"Choosing the lesser threat again?"
I nod, only just resisting the urge to look over my shoulder as I begin to unpack my Mad Science homework and textbook. "I saw the other threat in the corridor."
Warren regards me for a long while, probably trying to read exactly what form this other threat takes, but I simply stare back. Eventually, he sighs and brings his books and papers a little closer to him, making more room for my stuff on the table. I smile slightly but gratefully at him for a few seconds, muttering a small "Thanks" as I adjust my stuff onto the table.
Once I know I'm safe to stay here, I resituate my textbook to get started on the homework we'd been given – read the first chapter to understand the basic methods used in Mad Science. I've had one lesson of Mad Science and I already know it's going to be horrific, and that I should get an early start on all homework.
I've only read the first two pages before the sigh of frustration has built up too much to be contained. Warren doesn't look up from his own textbook, but intones: "Could you despair more quietly?"
I let out a half-hearted, slightly hysterical chuckle before cradling my head in my hands. "I've only been at Sky High three days and I already think I'm gonna fail Mad Science," I groan.
It's just a declaration of my emotional state, and while I might have expected a reply from Layla and the others if I'd been with them, I definitely didn't anticipate Warren to expel his own sigh and continue the conversation.
"You're just overthinking it," he insists. "They use a lot of big words to describe simple concepts. Forget about the jargon – you can learn that later – and just think about the processes and rationales they use, and you'll realise it's just common sense."
I continue staring at him, unable to believe he'd just given me advice on schoolwork like some ordinary friend, and surprised by exactly how much I value – treasure – the fact. After five long seconds of silence, Warren finally looks up from his book to meet my gaze boldly.
"If you can analyse a fight like you did yesterday, you're smart enough to understand Mad Science."
I remember teasing Warren yesterday for his vaguely-concealed appreciation of my "self-absorbed senior" comeback. But teasing him now doesn't even cross my mind; that was a full-on compliment, a recognition of my skills and a reassurance of my ability when I'm beginning to doubt it. This isn't "normal" anymore, not for Warren Peace. I bet he doesn't say those things often. He probably doesn't expect me to respond, but I can't leave such unusual and sincere advice unanswered.
"Thank you," I say, quietly and meaningfully.
Our intense staring connection continues for a few more seconds before Warren nods his head slightly and we both return to our own work.
Just as a start to get frustrated with the consistent lack of progress despite Warren's advice, he speaks up again.
"I totally heard you swear yesterday."
Glancing up, I see that his attention is still on the book in front of him, but I grin nonetheless.
"Hey, just because I look like and currently am a pushover doesn't mean I'm not a normal teenager in other ways. Maybe I'm not as practiced at the use of expletives as you might be, but I still use them."
"F**k you."
He only says these words rather than growls them, so I don't take them to heart and simply continue my teasing. "Well, now you're just showing off."
He looks up then. "Oh my God, shut up."
My laughing grows louder as I can see a tiny smile on the corners of his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes. I smile at him again, and he rolls his eyes before a clattering from the kitchen interrupts us. The canteen staff are doing final set up ready for lunch. On that signal, I close my textbook, grabbing it in one hand while slinging my bag on my back with the other.
"Giving up already?"
Given our complex relationship so far, I know he's not just talking about my Mad Science homework, so I meet his gaze boldly and grin widely, revelling in the startled expression that crosses his face for half a second.
"Not a chance," I chuckle, "not when I've just had a breakthrough." I pause before I explain my departure. "I also have other friends that I'd like to sit with – Layla and the others – and I highly doubt that you'd like them to sit here." I grin before turning serious again. "And I think we could both do without the questions they might ask if they see me sitting with you. So I'm going to save a table for them for the moment."
He nods in understanding but says nothing else, so after a few more moments of silence, I hitch my bag up higher on my shoulder and incline my head at him as I walk by to get a table behind him.
"See you around," I say.
A few steps later, and a not-entirely-reluctant reply reaches me, making me smile: "See ya."
ЖЖЖ
A week and a half passes without quite as much drama as the first few days, and along with the rest of my friends (minus Warren, of course) I'm invited to Will's house for study after school. They most benefit from this because they can compare answers and actually cooperate on a piece of mutual work, but the fact that they invited me for the company warms my heart immeasurably.
So here I am, half completing my own work and half listening to their conversations to give my input when suitable. A new topic emerges in their question paper, and Will begins the dictation.
"Okay, number one: a radioactive zombie is charging at your hero. Do you hand him: a) his silver-tipped crossbow, b) a wooden spike, c) –."
"Yo, yo, yo, that's so weak, man." Guess who says that. "I'm already holding this crossbow, why can't I just shoot him myself?"
I flip my eyebrows and nod slightly. The times we've compared homework and other theory encouraged in the lessons have illuminated that hero-sidekick regime is, in fact, shit; the discrepancy between the expectations, remits and perceived abilities of the respective groups is ridiculous, and those of us who like to question certain things are very confused by it. Of course, there are those that accept the rules.
"Because we're hero support," Ethan reminds Zach, "and if your hero asks for a crossbow, you hand it to him."
"Or her," Layla interjects, throwing a wink my way. I grin brightly in response while Magenta chuckles.
"By the way, Zach, you can't kill a zombie. You can only re-kill him."
"Or her," she emphasises again. I giggle despite Layla's seriousness; I'm definitely all for gender equality, but I'm less concerned about that issue regarding the undead.
Realising I've been more focused on their homework than mine, I turn back to the Mad Science chapter in front of me and resume my despairing. This particular section is about the biochemical changes that occur in radiation exposure to produce the development of superpowers. The complex diagrams and indecipherable labels seem to dance in front of my eyes, doing some sort of taunting haka. I shut my eyes and slam the door on the train of thought, remembering Warren's advice of simplifying it. Once my mind is calm, I open my eyes to scan the page again.
Okay, so that part of the cell is the part that says whether you're super or non-super. When it looks sort of like a butterfly, that's when you're non-super. But the super version is the butterfly but with bits added to it. That makes sense; when you're super, you're just a human with added extras. So the radiation hits that butterfly and encourages the growth of extra stuff, which in turn gives the person extra stuff.
I smile in victory as the previously elusive concept is now fully within my comprehension. All thanks to Warren's advice. My smile remains for a different reason now.
A few days ago, over the weekend, I finally stopped by The Paper Lantern, the Chinese place Layla gave me the address to for a job application. I stepped into the shop, immediately loving the atmosphere of the dimmed-lighting, the smell of delicious food being prepared making my stomach rumble. Before I got too depressed about how comparatively lacking my dinner later that night would be, I made myself look around for someone who looks vaguely in charge, cursing myself for not asking Layla if she knew the name of the manager before.
As I was looking around for a "Staff Only" door, a voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Please tell me you're not here for Mad Science advice."
I recognised the voice, of course I did, but his presence in this place was so startling that it took moments of floundering and twirling and searching before I finally found him, obviously entertained by my dramatic display of confusion. He was obviously in work-clothes; on his torso a red T-shirt was just visible under a black T-shirt, the latter with a few bleach stains and other marks of wear, and he was holding a tray of glasses in his hands. With his hair tied up so his usual veil lifted, his strong face was exposed for all to see, including me. For a second I was mute for how attractive his face was, his skin so ridiculously flawless that I was insanely jealous. But then I saw the white apron tied around his waist, contrasting greatly with his usual look and some of his current attire, and suddenly I wasn't so jealous anymore.
His raised eyebrow and continued small smile suggested that I had been staring for a while, and I could feel my face heat up as I tried to distract him with a response.
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm actually here for a job."
His other eyebrow rose, so I continued my explanation.
"Layla told me about this place, and that they had a sign that they were hiring waitresses. I thought I might try it out because I need money." Self-consciously holding the back of my arm, I averted my gaze. "And a reason to get out of the house."
Dammit, what is it about him that seems to make me admit more than I would usually? After the silence between us extended over twenty seconds, I met his eyes again, not so much refusing to look away but now held captive in his intensity. He sighed and placed the tray down on a nearby table, removing the small towel from his shoulder.
"Wait here," he commanded gently, walking past me and brushing the hanging beads out of the way as he was going through a nearby doorway.
Two voices could be heard, discussing things in strange sounds. At first I'm confused before I remembered this place was a Chinese food restaurant. My eyes were wide when Warren returned.
"Was that Mandarin?"
He blinked, as if he had forgotten that he would have been speaking a different language, before nodding.
"Would I have to learn that in order to work here?"
He shrugged. "Not really. We all speak English, obviously, and if you're happy with us talking about you behind your back but within earshot, then that's fine."
"Okay, I'm definitely learning it."
In an almost apocalyptic moment, he grinned, and wow if his teeth weren't white! I heard my voice leaving my mouth before I could stop it.
"Can you teach me?"
There went the grin. "What? Are you kidding me? Am I just your go-to-guy for education?" His face showed his obvious exasperation.
I frowned. "Hey, you gave me that previous advice of your own accord, I didn't ask for it. And it's not like I know anyone else who speaks Mandarin."
He rolled his eyes, walking over to his tray to pick it up again. "I'm not giving you extra evening lessons, or something stupid like that. You can learn on the job, that's the best way."
It took a few seconds before his words sank in. "Wait, so…I have the job? Just like that?"
He turned back around, irritated. "Yeah, what do you want, an interview? Competency test? Fight to the death? I'm assuming you can hold a tray vertical, write orders down on a piece of paper and wash things up, so you're fine."
As I still stared at him in disbelief, he rolled his eyes again. "Lin is a family friend. I told her I had a friend from school who needed a job, and she said okay."
The word 'friend' resonated in my ears as its full meaning hit me; Warren Peace thought of me as a friend, and actually admitted so to someone.
I think the smile that spread wide across my face caught him off guard, because his eyes widened as he stared at me.
"I owe you one," I said.
His mouth turned up at the corners. "I know, and don't think I won't call it in later."
"Hey, Kait!"
I blink before I realise I've been spaced out for a while and Magenta is calling my name. I look at her and apologise for not responding earlier. "Sorry, what was that?"
"We were just saying we think we're done for the night. How about you?"
Glancing down at my paper, I remember how I figured out the complex process and the reason why I could do so. I nod, smiling.
"Yeah; I've done my best. Now we just have to see where that leads me."
So there you go! New and improved. I'm much happier with this version, obviously. Hope you guys are too. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. Leave a review and let me know what you think!