Chapter 14: 1.14
Chapter Text
By the time you make it to your locker on Monday morning, your high from the success of your seduction of Victoria has crashed, and you're back to obsessing over your relationship with Madison. Exacerbating this is the slight headache you developed over the weekend; it's not bad, but you're becoming kind of paranoid about stretching your powers too far. You've seen what happens when someone ignores a headache for too long, during the aftermath of your Mom's death. The stress Dad had gone under had resulted in him developing severe headaches that had left him crippled for days until you'd made another trip down to buy high-strength painkillers.
Absently, you wonder if your late-night study sessions have been helping your headaches at all, but you dismiss the thought. It's not like you can afford to stop them even if they were making them worse. You get most of your seduction and manipulations done at school.
Madison seems slightly subdued when you meet with her in first period. You know it's probably a bad idea, but when you see her downcast face, you can't help but sit there and pull her into a hug anyway, at least until the teacher glares at you for disrupting his class. You try not to make a big deal about your reluctance to let go of her, but Madison seems to get the idea anyway, and gives you a small smile.
Unfortunately, you're not able to sit next to her in any other class, so the next time you'll be able to sit next to her is during lunch. You're growing wary of sitting next to her at lunch- not only because you're afraid of what some of the gang members at school might do to you if they get it in their head that you're a deviant who needs to be put down, but also because you're getting a little bit worried about how easily Madison is neglecting her friends in order to spend her time with you. Not that you're necessarily against the idea of Madison devoting all her time for you- the thought does have a certain appeal. Hmm...
Regardless, you do have other issues to attend to. And principal amongst them is the girl sitting next to you now, in fourth-period Chemistry; Sophia Hess.
Once, the thought of being assigned to the same project as Sophia would have caused you to break into a cold sweat. Now, there's a certain appeal to it. Not only because it gives you the perfect opportunity to gently tug at her loyalty without having to be obvious in your staring at her, it's mostly because it gives you the chance to actually learn about the girl.
For instance: Sophia is a very aggressive girl. You were already aware of this, having once been the recipient of her cruelty, but it manifests in other ways, too. She gets competitive at so much as the slightest hint that somebody might be better at something than her. It makes you feel a little cruel to admit it, but you take a certain perverse delight in rubbing your academic accomplishments in her face. She looks so cute when she bunches her nose up and sneers half-heartedly at you.
But there's more to her than that. She's a lot smarter than she gives herself credit for, for instance. You're far ahead of her in academic rankings, but you don't have much to do other than study and spend time with Madison. Sophia does.
"Track keeps me pretty busy," she confides to you quietly during Monday's Chemistry lesson. You've been making light talk with the girl about your hobbies, and the topic had eventually swung around to what the two of you do in your time after school. "We meet most days after school at four, and it doesn't let up until eight most days. Sometimes not until as late as eleven. Weekends, too, but we get more time off those days."
You raise your eyebrows at her, sneaking a peek down at her legs. "Well, I can't argue with the results," you note.
She gives you a sly grin. "Didn't think you'd complain, Hebert. But yeah, it keeps me pretty busy."
You nod. "Seems like it," you say. "I have to admit, it's impresive that you manage to keep your grades up as high as you do."
Her face darkens for a moment, before she makes a visible effort to shake herself out of it. "Ah, it's tough, but I manage," she says dismissively. "Han- The teacher makes sure that everyone in the team has some time to sit down and do their school assignments. It's track team, not boot camp, she says. I've got to keep up my grades anyway. Not that I'm looking to get into university or anything, but it's gonna be tough to-" She cuts herself off abruptly. "Well, you know. Job market and all."
"Yeah." You're pretty sure that the track teacher is Mr Brown, actually. Who is most definitely not a 'she', if his constant ranting about transgendered folks is any indication. You frown internally, then reach down into your bag and pull out your water bottle, proffering it silently to Sophia, who takes it with a confused look. You watch her insistently until she rolls her eyes and swallows a mouthful of it. Confusion is one of the first signs of heatstroke.
Sophia barely even insults you through the rest of Chemistry, and in fact gives you a little teasing smile on her way out. You're forced to stop watching her then, when she pauses by the door until Emma comes her way. Sophia is cute, but not that cute.
The rest of the day passes in a little haze. Lunch with Madison goes alright, but you're left yearning for more than the occasional soft touches and hand-holding that you can get away with behind the tree you'd marked as your own. Tutoring isn't the most fun thing in the world, but at least Madison can snuggle up against you during that, and it gives you something to focus on besides work you've done twice over already.
Anxiety about your relationship with Madison still sits heavy in your gut by the time school is out for the day and Dad meets you in his car, though.
He takes one look at you and pauses. "Do you want to go home first, or to the clinic?" he asks.
You consider it for a minute. Going home sounds like a wonderful idea, but- "The clinic," you say absent-mindedly. Quite aside from the issue of cute girls, you volunteered to help out at the clinic, and that's something you feel you should follow through on.
Dad nods nonchalantly. "Okay then," he says. "I'll take you there. Pick you up at seven?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
Dad drops you off with a little wave and a reaffirmation of his promise to pick you up at "Seven on the dot, don't forget!". You give him a small smile and a hesitant wave as he drives off, then turn, take a deep breath, and step into the clinic.
Instantly, you note that it's as busy as it was last week. When you'd first volunteered, there were only three people in the waiting room. Now, there are so many that the two dozen seats set out carefully in the waiting room are completely filled, and you can see at least three people sitting against the wall, looking around with a pained expression on their faces.
Well, you think to yourself as you hurry into the hospital to try and find any spare chairs you can, at least you'll have something to do if things keep being this busy.
For the next hour, you run around the hospital trying to keep up with the influx of clients. With so many little kids in there, there are constantly little messes you have to step in to clean up; they tear the magazines in the waiting room to shreds, throw the toys carefully stacked in a box in the corner all around the receptionist area, and appropriate crayons from somewhere that they begin drawing on the walls with. Someone vomits all over the floor, but thankfully, you're not asked to deal with that one. They call in an actual janitor for that.
The good thing about this kind of menial work, you soon to discover, is that there's just so much of it that you don't have time to obsess over Madison.
It's five forty-nine when Doctor Fitzgerald finally walks out into the waiting room, a harassed look on his face. You're not actively using your power, but even so, you can feel the surprise wash over him when he looks over the waiting area. You flinch a little- you thought you'd done a good job, but apparently, not by the doctor's standards.
He looks around, his gaze eventually falling near you. A warm flash of appreciation flashes through him, and you're forced to fight down a little bit of jealousy at whoever had managed to make him feel good despite your mess. He begins walking towards you, and you have to fight the urge to run.
"Taylor," he greets you calmly. "You can go take a break now, if you want. I'll get one of the other volunteers to take over for you out here until you get back."
So scolded, you hang your head mournfully in shame. "Okay," you mumble. "I'll keep it short, though! I'll be back out here soon!"
He's already summarily dismissed you, though. He nods, but his thoughts have obviously wandered away as another flash of warm appreciation steals through him. He barely gives you another thought as he hurries over to the patients sitting around the waiting room, pulling one of them aside and murmuring lowly to them.
Your depression fades somewhat when you make it to the break room to find a surprise waiting for you, in the form of a mousy little brunette.
Rather than head inside, you opt to stand in the doorway for a few moments, watching her rummage around in the fridge... and rather enjoying it when she bends down to check the bottom shelf, giving you a nice view of her pert ass. It's tempting to go over and let her feel your appreciation, but you refrain. Sophia is the one who doesn't mind you sexually harassing her, anyway. Doing the same to random clinic volunteers is rather less okay.
Besides; if you did so, then you wouldn't be able to enjoy the loud squeak she makes when she finally pulls out a small bowl of chocolate mousse from the fridge and turns around to see you staring at her. The spoon she's holding in her other hand clatters to the floor, and red immediately flares in her cheeks.
You chuckle lowly, an act that only causes the flushing in her cheeks to spread further. "Come on, mystery girl," you say just loudly enough for her to hear. "I know I can be a bit scary, but you shouldn't exaggerate it too much."
"N- no, that's not-" The girl cuts herself off, looking a little exasperated with herself. "No, I don't mean... You're not scary. You just surprised me a little, that's all."
"Ah. And there's a difference, is there?"
She nods her head vigorously. "Obviously. You're too-" Abruptly, she flushes red. Again. This girl spends more time blushing than Madison did when she stripped for you. "I mean, you're not scary enough to scare me! Yeah."
"Oh yeah?" you muse. "I dunno. I think I can be pretty scary when I want to be." You bare your teeth at her in a silly approximation of a snarl, and gnash your teeth at her for a moment when she giggles at you. "See? I can be scary!"
She shakes her head, her giggles fading, leaving behind a little grin. "Very scary," she replies. "Especially the sweater. Really makes you look terrifying."
You look down at your soft green sweater. It's lined with fleece. You're pretty sure you actually resemble a sickly sheep.
Nonetheless, you grin at the girl. "Green is the colour of terror," you reply as seriously as you can. "Didn't they teach you anything in school?"
"I must have missed that lesson," she shoots back dryly. "How silly of me."
You nod emphatically. "Colour theory's an important skill," you inform her. "I learned that in kindergarten." You wince internally as soon as you say it. God, you really need to work on this joking thing a bit.
She looks at you with raised eyebrows, but passes by the obvious comeback. "I see," she says instead. "Are you going to come in, or do you prefer lurking in doorways people need to walk through?"
You shake your head, looking her slowly up and down. "Better view from here," you declare. She blushes again, looking down at her mousse with a small smile.
"Could I tempt you in with some mousse?" she asks, waving it towards you. "Or there was some yoghurt in there, too, maybe you could have that if you don't like mousse..."
You're still a little full from the lunch Madison made for you, but you recognize the invitation for what it is and step inside, pulling up a chair at the table she's standing in front of. "I do like yoghurt," you say. You like mousse better, but the girl had sought out that mousse. You don't want to take it away from her.
She hums, then turns back to the fridge, casually kicking the spoon she'd dropped earlier off to the side as she does so. There is indeed a little tub of yoghurt, although sadly, it's up on the top shelf. You'd rather hoped she'd have to bend down again. Two small spoons are drawn from a rack beside the break room's kitchenette, and you note that she casually kicks the dropped spoon again as she walks past it.
"Here you go." She slides the tub of yoghurt and a spoon over to you, then sits opposite to you and unhurriedly begins to peel the plastic wrap off her mousse. "So," she says once she's finally unwrapped it and has her spoon sitting in the mess of mousse, "what's your name?"
The two of you talk casually over the next ten minutes. You can't help but notice that she deflects your questions about why she's here, but several staff members wander in and out while the two of you talk, and while some of them give you impressed glances behind her back- one doctor, a man you recognize as Doctor Jones, even gives you a thumbs-up, although you're not sure why- none of them seem confused about her presence here. That solves that quandary, at least.
She's very open about personal information, though, at least the kind you're interested in gathering from a casual conversation like this. Her name is Amy, she tells you; she's seventeen years old. You note that she doesn't look too disappointed when you tell her you're fifteen in turn, though you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. You cross your fingers beneath the table, hoping that maybe she's into younger women. She's lived in the Bay area for her whole life, and yes, the weather is very cold recently.
The most interesting thing you learn about her, though, is that she likes to read. And you don't mean the kind of reading most people your age like to do, reading those terrible novellas about people having torrid relationships with capes wearing perpetual brooding expressions. No, she likes to read classical literature.
If Doctor Fitzgerald hadn't walked in, looking more harried than ever, you're pretty sure the two of you might have sat there until seven talking and teasing each other about Dracula. But, sadly, he did.
"Amy!" the doctor exclaims when he sticks his head around the doorway and sees the two of you sitting there talking animatedly. "And Taylor, hello again. Amy, you're needed over in room eight. Taylor, I know you've only just gone on break, but Chloe's finished for the day and the kids somehow got hold of their crayons again. Could you go deal with that for me?"
The two of you are already rising as he speaks. Amy gives you a hurried little wave as she leaves, pulling out- was she sitting on a bundle of sheets the whole time? Apparently, since she pulled them out from the chair she'd been sitting on. What an odd girl.
You shake your head and get back to work.
Plans are formulating in your head overnight, carrying through Tuesday and buoying you up.
You've got plans for finding a job circling in your head. You can't manage them now, not during the week, but when you spoke to Doctor Fitzgerald when you arrived on Tuesday to find a much quieter clinic, he'd agreed to act as a reference for you- and even gone a step further, telling you to go to the Brockton Bay Theatres and speak to his friend Gerald on Saturday. You should be able to start immediately, he informs you, unless he's filled the position already.
Which leaves you with just the rest of the week to plan out. So what are you going to do during the next three days?
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