Chapter 12: 1.12
Chapter Text
Wednesday morning rolls around, and for once, you're actually feeling good about going to school. You have a cute girl waiting for you, and you're fairly sure that Sophia is now more interested in sexually harassing you than in throwing taunts at you or pushing you around.
Dad's already left by the time you're up and clattering about. There's a note for you sitting on the table- 'Taylor, had to leave early, union dispute. I'll pick you up around 5 from school so we can go to that meeting. Love, Dad.'
You tuck the note into your pocket so you won't forget, then rush out to meet the bus before it leaves without you.
As usual, the bus is running a little behind schedule by the time it pulls up in front of Winslow. Ostensibly, you're supposed to be here no later than half an hour before the bell for first period rings. Your bus has to drive around through some of the more run-down areas in Brockton Bay, though, and thus the bus drivers all naturally slow down and give way to everything and everyone, not willing to risk accidentally pissing off a gang member just to get you to school a little bit earlier. You're nearly fifteen minutes late by the bus's schedule by the time you get there.
You're not in any rush today, so you don't mind it too much. You chalk it up as being one of the Bay's many idiosyncracies and move on.
Madison's left you another card- this one soft blue, without a message from Terry on it- in your locker, atop a small lunchbox. The meals have been getting better in quality; you're not sure if that's because Madison is accustoming herself to your tastes, or if she's getting more pushy at home when she makes them. You hope it's the first.
When you arrive in first period, you slide in beside Madison and give her a one-armed hug in thanks. She beams and snuggles against your side, staying there until the teacher arrives and coughs pointedly at the two of you, at which point she lets go with a pout at him. You take her hand beneath the table and she settles down a little, a content smile on her face as she focuses on her schoolwork.
That lasts up until second period- World Issues, with Mr Gladly- where Madison reluctantly has to let go of you and make her way to sit beside a boy- Henry? Whatever, one of the sportier boys at the school. For a moment, you're tempted to try to use your power on him, but you refrain. You're not sure you want a guy to admire you that much, even if it would get you another seat beside Madison.
Instead, you just try to focus on your classwork over the next few periods. World Issues is one of Madison's weakest classes, anyway. You probably need to pay attention here so you can go over it with Madison during tutoring later. She's not as bad in Maths and English, but you try to focus through them anyway. It gives you something to do other than glare at whoever's sitting beside her, anyway.
Eventually, the bell for lunch rings, and you hurry through the dimly-lit halls to get to your locker. You're quick enough that you manage to miss the footsteps behind you until you pull out the lunch Madison had prepared for you and close your locker, revealing Madison's smiling face behind it. You start, dropping the lunch.
Madison's hands dart forwards, fumbling to catch the lunch. She just manages to, giving you a look just as startled as your own.
"Sorry," she says contritely. "I thought you heard me."
"I didn't hear anything," you say. Absently, you wonder what she's doing here, but you dismiss the thoughts after a moment's consideration. "Did you want to have lunch together?" You're pretty sure that without Emma and Sophia harassing you, it should be safer. Maybe not safe, but safer. Worth the risk, now.
She nods enthusiastically. "Yeah!" she says, excitement leaking into her tone. "Um, there's a place I know where not many people go. We could go there for lunch?"
"Sure." You pause, then think about it. "Where is this place?"
"Oh, it's over in the courtyard." She gestures vaguely in that direction. "There's a little area where they planted a tree and some shrubs."
You know the place. It had been during one of Winslow's many attempts to try and spruce the school up, and like all the others, had failed when it became clear that most of the students just didn't care. The shrubs had nearly caught fire after someone had flicked a lit cigarette butt in there, and only the timely intervention of the school's automated sprinker system had saved the little corner of greenery from being burnt entirely to the ground. Over a thousand dollars worth of greenery had burned down in the meantime. A few years later, the little corner was doing well for itself, but the school had decided it wasn't worth investing in again considering the potential for a repeat occurrence.
You lead Madison over to the corner, and pull her down to sit beside you behind the tree. You immediately see why she suggested it. It isn't quite hidden from view from the rest of the courtyard, but you have to be both standing up and looking over directly at the tree to see you. It makes sense, you suppose- if the area was well-hidden, you suspect that it'd be seeing a lot more use than it is.
Emma and Sophia are sitting in the courtyard, not far from your tree, when you arrive. You ignore the two of them, pulling Madison over to the little copse and tucking yourself in behind it.
You sit down and spread your legs. Madison sits between them and pulls herself up against you, allowing you to wrap one arm around her as you slowly eat your lunch. When you finish the wrap she'd made for you, you wait patiently for her to finish eating her own wrap, then hand her the small punnet of sliced strawberries she'd put in with your lunch today. She gives you a quizzical look for a moment before understanding dawns in her eyes, and she obediently turns in your arm and begins feeding them to you. You take your time, enjoying Madison watching you with lidded eyes as you occasionally stop to suck the strawberry juices off her fingers.
You're thoroughly enjoying yourself, right up until the moment some jerk spoils it for you.
Some guy- you don't recall seeing him before, but you don't pay much attention to most of the people at Winslow- walks past with a group of his friends, sneering at you. He's dressed typically for someone who goes to Winslow, wearing a hand-me-down leather jacket and denim jeans that had been patched one too many times for you to pretend not to notice.
"Dykes," he growls as he walks past. His friends sneer at the two of you, some making disgusted faces and some leering at the two of you. One of them even puts two fingers up in a V-shape and lashes his tongue between them, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
You sneer back at them once their backs have turned. It probably won't escalate to violence here at school- LGBT rights have progressed that much over the last few years, at least- but you're not willing to provoke a group of boys who might well be gang members. Outside of school, it's a very different matter. They'll probably let it go if you don't provoke them.
Still, it's ruined the mood. You look mournfully at the last few strawberries as Madison leans back against you, fingers faintly trembling as she looks uneasily in the direction the men had gone. You tighten your arms around her and pull her against you.
You stifle a sigh so Madison can't feel it.
It looks like you still have some work cut out for you if you want to be able to have faux-dates with Madison at school.
You've only just finished tutoring Madison for the day and walking her out to the front door when Dad pulls up in his rickety old car. Madison pauses when she sees it, but eventually shrugs. For a moment, you wonder how she knew it was your car- then you remember that Dad had driven to the dinner at Emma's, and she'd probably seen it then.
You give her one last hug goodnight, refraining from giving her a goodbye kiss in front of your Dad, and walk briskly over to the car. He gives you an odd look after your interaction with your girl, but doesn't comment on that.
"You ready, Taylor?" he asks, giving you a smile as he pulls away from the curb.
You nod seriously. "Yeah," you reply.
The two of you chat casually about hospital work as Dad drives you over to the clinic. The path there isn't the safest, so Dad has to take it slow and careful- Winslow isn't in the greatest of areas to begin with, and New Wave has funded most of these clinics with the stipulations that they be built in some of the worst parts of the Bay. From what you understand, the original proposals had had them being built in some of the better off areas in the Bay, closer to Downtown and the like- areas where the people who need the clinics most couldn't readily access them. New Wave had shut that down, pointing out that ready access to the clinics was the entire point.
New Wave might have funded the clinics, but even they couldn't afford to pour enough money into them to pretty them up. That's immediately obvious almost as soon as you get on the same block as it and actually see the clinic itself. It's painted an ugly, bland white; from here, you can see a man in his early twenties scrubbing away with a large bristled brush at the walls, where someone's drawn some dark red graffiti on it. There are two wilted potted plants sitting out the front, the frost having taken its toll on the ferns.
It all clashes with the much more sterile interior, you find once Dad has parked the car and walked you inside. The outside might look kind of run-down, but inside, everything has been mopped and scrubbed to sterile perfection. There's a small waiting room off to the side, where three people- one white man with a gaunt, hallow face and pockmarked skin, a black man currently busy absently scratching at his skin as he stares at a wall, and an Asian woman cradling a baby to her chest as she coos down at the gurgling child- sit in front of a small TV mounted to the wall, waiting for their turn to be called up.
You and Dad walk up to the counter, giving the security guards- two large, beefy men standing taller than even Dad, dressed in body armour and wielding large stun batons and what you recognize as PRT-issued foam launchers- a wide berth as you go.
The receptionist gives the two of you a bored look as you stand in front of her. "Yes?" she asks, tone professionally disinterested.
"Danny Hebert and Taylor Hebert," he replies. "We have an appointment with Doctor Fitzgerald."
"One moment." She clatters away on her keyboard for a few moments, likely searching for the doctor's schedule. Eventually, she finds it. "I see," she says eventually. "Doctor Fitzgerald's office can be found through the hall to the right. Walk to the end, then turn left. It's the door at the end of that hall."
You politely thank the woman and follow Dad as he follows the woman's instructions. Eventually, you end up in front of a door with a clear plastic container hanging within it, a small wooden stick with painted gold letters spelling out 'FITZGERALD' stuck behind it. Dad knocks, and a moment later a voice calls out a perfunctory, "Yes, yes, come in." You can't help but hear a harassed note in the doctors' voice- something you confirm a moment later when you stretch your powers over to him for a second, taking in the stress and fear running through him, as well as the solid undercurrent of determination threaded through with compassion.
He looks up at the two of you as you enter, taking in your appearances and nodding to himself. "Miss Hebert, I assume?" he asks. You nod, and he continues. "Excellent. I'm glad you're here. We have a lot to cover."
For the next hour- hour and fifteen minutes, actually, going by your watch- Doctor Fitzgerald goes over everything. And you mean everything.
He starts with the duties expected of you- "General maintenance of the grounds and buildings, mostly, and perhaps some cataloguing if you can prove you're up to the task." You make a noise of protest at that, but he quickly points out that you have no health and safety training, let alone training in medical procedures. It's not only unsafe for you, the clinic could get in actual legal trouble if they allowed you to perform medical procedures without proper training and review. Which, well- it's annoying, but okay, you can understand that.
He spents most of the time talking about something you actually hadn't even considered- safety procedures. It makes sense, you suppose; you're going to be volunteering at a clinic with a focus on treating drug addiction, built in a predominantly poor neighbourhood with minor Brotherhood and ABB influences. It's unfortunately true that those factors means that the clinic likely sees violence on an unpredictable basis. He does assure you that there are multiple safety procedures in place, several security guards on the premesis at all times, and that New Wave will respond in the case of any alarms going off- but you still have to be aware of the procedures, just in case.
Finally, he concludes with a big sigh. "Are you still interested?" he asks wryly.
You nod confidently. "Yeah!" you reply enthusiastically. You're not quite sure why he feels so surprised at that, but you can also feel his weary happiness at your zeal. "Can I start today?"
He glances down at his watch, noting the time- it's six thirty. "You'll only be here for half an hour," he notes, but otherwise doesn't try to dissuade you.
"That's okay!" You grin at him. "It'd be good for me to see what working here will be like, you know?"
As it turns out, it's exactly as boring as the doctor had intimated it would be. It's hard to engage yourself in the mundane tasks of washing windows and mopping floors. Some people do it for a living, but you can't imagine how. And that sounded a lot more denigrating than you intended it to. Oops. Janitors earn their keep, you do know that. The work just isn't engaging you very much.
Still, it serves its purpose. By the time you get home, your mind is full enough that you barely think about Emma twice.
You're not looking forward to school on Thursday, which is a bit disappointing after your enthusiasm yesterday. For a moment, you'd hoped that you were beginning to regain that excitement you'd once had for learning something new. It doesn't look like that's happening, though. At least it isn't affecting your school performance too badly- you spend most nights awake until just before midnight studying, and have for a while now, so even when you're not enthusiastic for classes you're still learning the material. It just... feels like a huge hassle to try and drag yourself into school every day.
It's not too bad, though. School is somewhat less miserable now that you don't have your own personal tormentors- just the school's regular bullies. But you can't do anything about them now, so you're just going to have live and let live.
At least Madison hasn't let yesterday's episode get her down too much, you discover when you get to school the next day. The card she's left for you is noticeably more subdued than the last few have been, but the words within- "Taylor, I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy yesterday's lunch, but I made you a strawberry cake today. Love, Maddie~"- are no less sweet, and the cake she made for you does look mouth-watering.
You give her an appreciative hug when you slide into your seat beside her during first period, and enjoy your regularly-scheduled hand-holding through the lesson, but when the class ends and you're forced to let go of her, your mood instantly plummets. She notices, but the most she can do is give you an apologetic hug before you're both forced to run off to your next class.
Things don't get much better through second and third periods. You have Computer class in place of Maths on Thursdays, and while Mrs Knott gives everyone their assignments, it doesn't leave you with much to do when you're done in less than half an hour. You can't even go onto PHO and try to find something interesting- the one time you managed to circumvent the school's ban on the website (the ban itself claiming that it was "not intended for educational purposes), they'd blocked you from downloading any files anyway.
As such, your mood remains sour right up until you arrive at the Chemistry classroom for your fourth period class and see two amazing sights; Sophia stretching back in her chair, giving you a catlike grin as you enter the room- and an excellent view of her chest through her tight shirt- and a familiar boy clad in the same leather jacket as yesterday scowling ferociously at Sophia from behind her back, sporting a new cast over his nose.
You sit down at your table, giving Sophia an intrigued glance. Her grin only grows larger, right up until Mrs Knopf- your Chemistry teacher- enters the room, at which point she visibly fights it down into a scowl.
Most of the class haven't even unpacked their books from their bags when Mrs Knopf takes to the front of the classroom, clapping her hands together and clearing her throat. Everyone immediately stills, looking towards her.
"Excellent," she says loudly. "Class, as I mentioned on Monday, we are going to be moving to a new unit beginning today. We'll be studying chemical reactions for the next few weeks. Given that some of our students-" She levels a glare at someone behind you; you can't see who it is, but whoever it is gulps loudly- "have been unfairly leaving large portions of their work to their lab partners, I have taken the liberty of assigning lab partners for the unit myself. Are there any objections?"
Predictably, several hands shoot up into the air. Even more predictably, the teacher ignores them. "I'm glad to hear it." She pulls up a clipboard you hadn't seen her holding in her arms. "Lab partners will be as following. Martin Adams, with Renee Phillips..."
You sit there for a few moments, crossing your fingers as hard as you can. Please pair me with Madison, please pair me with Madison!
Finally, the teacher reaches your name. "... Taylor Hebert, with Sophia Hess..."
You're too stunned to reach for a moment. Sophia isn't. Her catlike grin returns when you turn to look at her, this time looking more than a little smug.
Two weeks ago, this would have been the worst result imaginable. Today, you don't actually mind.
When the teacher finally finishes listing off all the names on the roster, conversation fills the room for a few minutes as everyone gets up and begins wandering over to their new seats. Your own partner- a weird guy called Greg- gives you a pleading glance, but you shoo him away, gesturing for Sophia to come sit next to you. She's already on her way, but it's important that she understands that she's doing it because you want her to, not because she wants to.
She slides into the seat beside you, her smug smile replaced by a friendly scowl as she casually rearranges her skirt (why does she even wear a skirt so often? The answer arrives almost as quickly as you ask yourself- she normally doesn't, but she's been wearing them more often lately, she's teasing you) so it doesn't bunch up on her thigh.
"Hello, Hebert," she purrs. "Looks like we're going to be partners for a while."
School goes fantastically after that. It's hard to distract yourself in lessons like Maths, but with Madison at your side during first period and lunch, and Sophia sitting by you during Chemistry, you can distract yourself reasonably well.
Even the afternoons aren't too bad, now that you have your volunteer job at the clinic. You can't go every day, as much as you want to- it's not safe to walk there, and Dad can only take you there when he's not working late and he has the spare gas- but it's something. You're forced to skip Thursday, for instance, but you're able to head in on Friday.
Doctor Fitzgerald feels oddly thankful when you meet up with him again. Somebody must have told him some good news, you think.
The clinic ends up being a lot busier than normal, for some reason. The doctor reassures you that this doesn't happen often, but he doesn't have the time to sit there and explain to you what's going on- he just leads you out to the back room, where a lot of medical supplies have been left scattered haphazardly around out of place, and asks you to tidy the place up.
It's difficult work, not because the work is particularly onerous, but because nurses keep rushing in and out of the room and messing up areas you've just tidied up. It's tempting to yell at them. You refrain, but it's difficult.
You've almost tidied the room up by half past six when a mousey girl, not much older than you, walks into the room carrying a white bundle, tinged with red- dirty sheets, you suspect. "Laundry chute's over there," you inform her quickly, before she can just dump them atop the trolley you'd recently cleared off.
The girl squeaks- honest to god, squeaks- and turns to you, her cheeks almost on fire. "Um," she manages, before having to visibly shake herself. "I wasn't- I was just-"
"It's fine," you say. Honestly, you've grown sick of everyone's excuses by this point. "Don't worry about it... uh, what's your name?"
Curiously, she doesn't have a nametag on. Actually, on closer inspection, she doesn't have anything identifying her as a volunteer on. Her attire is appropriate, at least- her shirt is loose and doesn't draw any attention to her body, and she's wearing tight-cut pants that accentuate her hips without drawing attention to them- but she should really be wearing a nametag. Or so you assume. Actually, maybe you're being a bit presumptuous- this is only your second day.
"Hey!" the girl manages eventually. "My eyes are up here!"
"I know," you reply. Just for the comment, you eye her chest for a long moment, considering it. Her shirt is loose, but not so loose that it completely hides her breasts- the material rests against them. They're small, smaller even than maybe Madison's. A good size, you think.
When you finally look up at her face, her cheeks are blazing red. Embarassment flows through her, but there's no real anger there- just embarassment, and no small amount of lust. It's not strong, but it's there enough that you can feel it.
"W- Well then," she stammers. "Uh, I was just looking for- actually, never mind, I found it!" She scrabbles around behind her back with the hand not holding the sheets, grabbing the first thing her hands fall upon. You're not quite sure what use she might pretend to have for a stethoscope, but you let her get away with it, smiling teasingly at her.
"Alright then," you reply. "Have fun out there, mystery girl."
She hurries out of the room, still blushing furiously, and you turn back to your task, smiling slyly to yourself.
Well, that was interesting. You wonder if you'll see her again.
Eventually, the week comes to a close, and the weekend approaches. School wasn't terrible this week, but there's still a ways to go before you feel comfortable there.
That, though, isn't something you can do much about. Nope; you've got a weekend to plan.
So what are you going to do this weekend?
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