Worm: She's Dead Jim
What if one of Taylor's teen tormentors was taken out? What would the aftermath be like from Taylor's perspective? One-shot sketch
DISCLAIMER: Worm and the Parahumans series are the creations of John "Wildbow" McCrae. I don't own them.
This story is written for my own amusement, not for profit. If you enjoy, don't send me money, post a nice review instead.
ADVISORY: Foul language (This is Brockton Bay, you know)
She's Dead, Jim.
Taylor:
On Wednesday I awoke early to go running again. I sensed that something was different today, although I didn't know what. I got dressed, put out my shoes, did some stretches, then started running. It was a good run. I ran all the way down from my house to the Docks. I spent part of it patting myself on the back for being out here. I was still too out of shape to be a hero, but I could tell I was getting better.
I showered and dressed when I got back home. I'd already decided that I wasn't going to school. I'd had enough shit-eating and despite what I told Dad, I was not going to Winslow. I went to the public library instead and had a peaceful morning sitting and reading. No Emma, no Sophia, no Madison, none of their tag-along and wanna-be friends; a peaceful morning sitting and reading.
I ate lunch at a place downtown near the library. Gino's was a sandwich shop that had been there forever, despite rise of the gangs and the crash of ocean shipping caused by Leviathan. I went back to the library for a while, then caught a bus for home, being careful to arrive about the time I would gotten home if I was still going to school.
My Dad came home while I was cooking dinner: I'd decided to go Italian.
"Hi, Dad," I said.
"Hi, Taylor," he replied. His tone of voice wasn't something I expected. He walked into the kitchen and saw me making sauce.
"Smells good," he said.
Then he threw the bomb.
"Taylor, we need to talk," he said.
"What about?" I said. Did he know, I wondered.
"I was at work and got a call from your principal's office," he said.
Uh-oh, I thought.
"They told me that you weren't at school today," he said.
I said nothing.
"Taylor, did you skip school today?" he said.
"Um, me?" I said.
"Taylor, did you skip school today?" he said.
"No, I was there the whole time," I replied.
He looked into my eyes, then shook his head. "Bullshit," he said.
"No, I was there," I replied.
"No you weren't," he said with a sigh. "Taylor, stop lying. Roger's kid Peter came down to the office this afternoon and I asked him if he'd seen you at school. He said that you weren't there."
Damn it, he had me, I thought.
"Taylor, I know you're going through a mountain of shit with Emma and her little friends, but I want you to promise me that you'll tough it out and stay in school," he said. "I know it's tough but it will end. I want you to promise me that you will be at school tomorrow, no matter how tough it is. I know we can't trust Alan anymore, but I'll try to think of something."
"I promise, Dad," I said.
"You're promising me to my face," he said in a tone of voice he must use when he's playing hard-ball at the Dockworkers'. "I'm holding you to it."
"I promise, Dad," I said. Going back to my hell at Winslow was the last thing I wanted to do, but I not only made a promise, I promised Dad to his face. I was going to go back to the shit hole tomorrow morning.
Thursday
A promise was a promise and I wasn't at the point where I'd make a promise to Dad's face that I knew that I wasn't going to keep. I reluctantly returned to school on Thursday. The weather outside was cold and rainy, it was supposed to freeze later on. The weather matched my mood. It took a lot of mental effort to walk through the front doors and walk down the hall to my home room. The last thing I wanted to do was to be with my tormentors: I was sick and fucking tired of dealing with the non-stop shit Emma and the Trio were dishing out.
I had safe passage down the hallway, then down to my home room. I took a seat. I looked around at my tormentors. To my surprise, Emma looked like a train wreck. Her hair was half-combed, she wasn't wearing any make-up and her clothes looked like something she'd just pulled out from her dresser and closet. Had a bad night, Emma, said a voice in my head.
Maddy only looked a little better. She actually looked withdrawn and scared. I wondered what happened to her. My first thought was to wonder if somebody cornered her and beat her up, but I didn't see any signs of bruising. Somebody else, maybe?
I looked around for Sophia and didn't see her. Where was she? Was she sick or did somebody wave a magic wand at her and made her disappear? I should be so lucky. This was fucking Winslow High in Brockton Bay and with my shitty luck, Sophia would come walking through the door with a hall pass explaining away her lateness and spreading her special brand of sunshine to friends and acquaintances alike.
Piss on the lot of them. Once upon a time I would have cared about why Emma looked like a mess. I would have hugged her, told her I loved her, and that I cared. That was then, this is now. About the only thing I knew was that at least one of my tormentors was having a bad day and that I hoped that it stretched out as long as possible. See how it feels, I said silently to myself.
The public-address system came on and I expected another dull litany of boring announcements about school activities. "Hello, students," Principal Blackwell began. That was out of the ordinary: Blackwell normally started her spiel with "Good morning." Blackwell only said "Hello students" if somebody died. It was usually somebody important: she didn't bother if some nobody overdosed, committed suicide, got killed in an accident, or died in a gang thing. "This is Principal Blackwell. I have a special announcement. I regret to inform you that Sophia Hess, a sophomore here at Winslow High School, died Tuesday evening. We will be having a school assembly in her memory this afternoon."
Sophia was dead. Now that was news. No wonder Emma and Maddy looked such a mess. I wondered how she died. Sophia's death was the first bit of good news that I'd had since I'd entered Winslow. I knew that I was supposed to be sad about it, but I just couldn't make myself feel sorry about Sophia being dead. She was hateful and a bully. I hoped that she was dead and that she was going to stay dead.
Or was it really true? What if she wasn't really dead and was this just some more mind-fucking crap? With my shitty luck, the bitch would prove to be a parahuman with the power to resurrect herself and she'd be back at Winslow on Monday morning. In any event I wanted computer time at the Lab to find out the gory details.
The rest of the morning went a lot better than it had in ages. With Sophia dead or out of action, I wouldn't have to worry so much about being tripped or shoved. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about it at all, at least not today.
At lunch I was presented with a choice: should I try to eat my meal in the girl's restroom or should I eat something at the cafeteria? I thought about it and thought about it and realized that even if Sophia wasn't really dead, she was out of action for today, at least. As for the rest of the Trio, they were all looking shocky: they might cause trouble for me later, but today they didn't seem to be up to anything.
I decided to be daring and went to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was the same as it had always been: the cliques, the gangers, the losers, the outcasts. I picked a seat near one of the jocks' tables. I glanced over at them and wondered if I'd made a mistake, then noticed that one of the juniors on the softball team had her younger sister sitting next to her. There was probably a reason for it; I wondered what it was. She was giving her a reassuring hug.
To my surprise, my table started filling up. The first person was Jennie Sandifer, a mousy freshman that I'd seen around school. I wondered why it was that I remembered her, then remembered that she'd been one of Sophia's other targets. There was a vacant seat next to her that didn't stay vacant for long: it was taken by a girl named Cody Noailles. She smiled at Jennie, then gave me a brief bob of the head. We were joined by a nervous boy named Wendell who was clearly afraid of getting attacked. He sat down and seemed to relax.
It was Cody who took the initiative.
"Bad thing about Sophia Hess, hunh?" she said.
"We've all got to go sometime," I replied neutrally. "Sometimes we go early." I glanced across the cafeteria to where Emma and Madison were sitting. They were so much into themselves that they weren't looking in our direction.
"A real shame," I said theatrically. I glanced at the jocks to see if they were paying attention. They weren't.
"Not," I mouthed silently.
Cody missed it. So did Wendell. But Jennie caught it and giggled. "Not," she said, and giggled.
"I wonder what I'll wear to her funeral," said Jennie.
"Doesn't matter," I said. "We're not invited."
We all laughed and giggled.
I glanced over at Emma's table and stopped giggling. We'd attracted attention. Emma was glaring at us. She said something to Madison and Madison reluctantly got up from the table and started heading for our table. I'd wondered why Emma chose Madison: Maddy wasn't much of a threat. Madison walked down an aisle towards us with her best scowl on her face and I wondered what the least of the trio was going to say to us. Then something unexpected happened: Maddy tripped and fell.
One moment she was up, the next moment she was down. Maddy yelped "Hey" and then gasped in pain as one of the ball players did something with her arm or of the ball players got up and went over to our table. "We need some soy sauce," she said.
"I can't keep you from taking the soy sauce," said Wendell, spreading his hands with a theatrical shrug. Rain, a girl who played second base, gave him a look, then picked up the bottle and took it over to her table. A little later we heard Maddy yelp. That was followed by a couple of the ball players saying something in low and menacing voices, followed by Maddy squealing with outrage. When she got up, her outfit had several big soy sauce stains and some of her hair had been chopped away.
Maddy looked daggers at me. I looked her in the eye, then repeated Wendell's shrug. Maddy stalked back to Emma's table in humiliation.
"The old order changeth, yielding place to the new," said Cody, giving Maddy a hateful glare.
"Sounds Biblical," I said.
"It's not," she replied. "It's actually from Lord Tennyson." She gave Maddy's back another hateful look as she slunk back in defeat to Emma's table. I have to admit it. I enjoyed it, even if I suspected that Emma would shortly go to Ms. Blackwell's office to blame me for what happened to Maddy.
Lunch was over and I went to another class.
At one forty-five the public-address system came on and Ms. Blackwell announced that Sophia's memorial was about to start in the Auditorium.
I don't know what Ms. Blackwell had in mind but she and the PRT failed to touch base with each other. When we stepped out of the hallway, we heard a loud voice shouting "PRT! Coming through! Get out of the way!". I glanced down the hall in time to see a commotion moving our way. I wasn't sure what it was but I saw what it did: the kids who'd been in the hall started turning around and scurrying back into their classroom. The kids from my room began doing the same. I lingered just long enough to see several PRT troopers leading a couple of people who looked like crime techs down towards the direction of Sophia's locker. A minute or so later, Ms. Blackwell came back on the public-address system telling us that Winslow was in a state of lock-down and that we were to remain where we were.
I wondered what was up. Why was the PRT heading for Sophia's locker? Sophia had been a hateful bitch, but she wasn't like she was a Parahuman, was she? At least I didn't think she was. Then it hit me. Maybe she was a Cape. If so, which one? Then a light went on: Shadow Stalker. Sophia was Shadow Stalker. That was the only one I could think of, unless Sophia had been a villain.
I started chewing over the idea. Sophia was either Shadow Stalker or some villain Cape. If she was a Ward, that would explain why the PRT would be searching her locker. That could also explain why my complaining never got anywhere and the bullying never stopped: I hadn't been just dealing with Mr. Barnes, I'd also been dealing with the PRT. I sat down in my seat musing about Sophia's Cape identity while the teacher tried to restore order.
We remained in the classroom for the next period. Some of us treated it like study hall, others took advantage of the teacher trying to instruct us on our next problems. I confess I spent the first fifteen minutes wondering if Sophia had been Shadow Stalker, then managed to put my head enough in the game to focus in on the teacher.
At five 'til three we were getting restless. It was nearly time for PE. Then I got another treat. The public-address system came on and Ms. Blackwell asked if Ms. Emma Barnes would report to the principal's office. Oh, dear, Emmy, you're in trouble, I thought. I wondered if someone had gone around Blackwell and found out the truth about Sophia's and Emma's behavior or if the PRT had found someone to Nark on Sophia and Blackwell was doing damage control. Either way, Emma was in Blackwell's office facing the PRT and was probably very uncomfortable.
Good.
PE was my last class of the day. I went down to the girl's locker-room half-expecting trouble. To my relief, I got down there to find that the locker-room was open, but we had company: several female PRT troopers. One of them was guarding a space that had been Sophia's locker: it was now covered in crime-scene tape. I heard one of the girls complaining: her locker had been a couple of doors down from Sophia's and she couldn't get at her gym clothes. The PRT Trooper told her she was sorry, but she'd have to do without today, finishing by saying that maybe she'd be able to get her stuff tomorrow.
PE was the usual crap. We did calisthenics, then played a little Dodge-Ball. With Sophia dead and Emma being grilled in Blackwell's office, Maddy was the only one left from the Trio. Her heart wasn't in the game and despite the fact that I didn't really like Dodge-Ball, I played as hard as I could. I got a lucky shot and it go fast and hard towards Maddy's face. Watching the volleyball head for Maddy's face was sheer delight even if she was able to swat it to the side at the last moment.
At the end of the day, I showered and changed clothes. Miracle of miracles, nobody touched my stuff. I went back to my locker, also untouched, retrieved my books, and set off for home.
I got home without any trouble: no trouble from the Trio or anyone trying to impress Emma, no trouble from any gangs or street thugs. I unlocked the front door, put my school gear in my room, then went back downstairs to prepare dinner.
My bug-senses still worked and I could sense when Dad got home. My bug-hearing caught the sound of his truck engine, the sound of his door slamming, and his walking up the steps. He opened the front door and came into the kitchen. "So how was school?" he said.
"Much better," I replied.
"See, I told you," he said.
"Dad, you don't know the half of it," I thought.