Helga G Pataki: Hillwood's New Superhero

by KlutzyMaiden123

As if my life hadn't already been difficult. I already had to watch the love of my life, Arnold, make goo-goo eyes at little Miss Perfect, Lila Sawyer, while completely ignoring me. Now, I have to juggle school, keeping my feelings for him secret and battling evil dressed in a skimpy bathing suit, all the while keeping my lifestyle as a superhero from my nosey classmates.

15. Dancing With Myself (Part One)

Had to upload quicker then usual cause Taylor Swift announced her album a few hours ago and I know it's gonna take me out for the next couple of days (wish I were joking). Also yes, it's a coincidence that she's mentioned in this chapter then decided to drop her album (first Smeyer, now Tay Swift, I'mma have to mention Beyonce next lmao).Anyway hopefully y'all enjoy this chapter!

Oh, and shoutout again to Tiffany1567 for another gorgeous fanart! Seriously, you guys, the stuff that people send in is amazing, you should totally check them out They're on my tumblr underneath the fanart hashtag!

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Normally, I fancied nights like this.

Nights like this being cold, calm and black. The kind that reminded me of charcoal. These nights wrapped around me, head to toe, and coated me with a sombre crispiness that buzzed strong in my lungs.

Typically, I liked that because it allowed me to clear my head. It was why I used to storm out after my fights with Bob. I needed the distance. The air that slipped between my teeth was ice cold and always settled my rattling heart. And the moonlight that churned around me worked like knives, shattering the emotions that had chokehold grips on me.

But currently? Right this second? Yeah, it wasn't appreciated.

The moon was high and the air sore with brittleness. My heartrate was frantic and my footsteps swift. Because despite it being a school night, certain events had led me here, nimbly leaping across the rooftops and chasing after a rogue Mutant.

It scrambled up ahead, tongue flapping from its jaw. It was spindly creature, made from shadows, and jostled with long, swinging limbs. Its pants burst from its curling teeth and occasionally was accompanied with loud snarls that sounded it should come from a feral dog.

My fingers twitched. I wanted to throw my knife and be done with the whole thing, but this Mutant was quick. It moved like a dart. Air whistled and spiralled around its form, as it practically left me behind in its dust. And sure, I was confident in my knife throwing abilities, but this fucker could almost give Lark a run for her money.

(Pun not intended, I'm way too exhausted for that).

My lungs were burning, they felt like toast. Hard and scratchy, freshly scorching. I wish Lark had been the one to take this one. Sure, she had to currently deal with three other Mutants, but I'd rather take them over this speedy motherfucker. Every muscle in my body was tight and wet, sweat slipped between my skin and uniform. The air was cold, but the blood that pumped hard and fast made me immune to the chilliness. That, or it was the thickness of my uniform, which had been designed to withstand crazy rainstorms and freezing weathers.

The sky rolled past like a cloud of smoke, contorted with the streetlights below. The city lights weren't like they once were; we weren't deep in the city anymore, but on the outskirts. So, the buildings weren't lit up with flashing lights of pink, blue and reds. The darkness sank over this section of the city like a cloak, and the only light was yellow and came from the streetlights.

I almost skidded to a stop. The Mutant was nearing the edge of the roof, readying itself to jump onto the next one, and I knew we were getting closer to the heart of Hillwood. Lark and I had been lucky for tonight's attacks to take place at a random parking lot further from the city. Most people had left the area, as it was becoming increasingly common for civilians now. People were expecting attacks on the regular now, so when the sun began setting, either they headed inside for the night or went out in small parties to catch small glimpses of Hillwood's two heroes.

I disliked the parties; they were often made of teenagers or younger adults. They were persistent, and often didn't take the threat of Mutants seriously. Which obviously made our jobs harder, as convincing them to turn and run instead of taking pictures was a lot harder. They wanted snazzy snapshots of the action for their insta's, or perhaps to send to reporters, and often hid in the shadows despite promising us to leave.

But as much as I disliked them, it was at least becoming more popular for people to leave the streets altogether. It wasn't a total shift, but something that was picking up, especially amongst adults with children. Lark and I very much appreciated these decisions, especially those coming from families. But that being said, I knew people would still be out right now—either getting last minute shopping, hanging with their friends or searching for us. It wasn't that late and some civilians were heedless of the warnings their city gave them. And if there was one thing we didn't need tonight, it was civilians getting in the way.

Heat sizzled in my palm.

Gritting my teeth, I swung my hand in an upward motion and blue arcs hurtled from my fingers. They travelled at an impossible rate and flickered against the shadows, forming into one long glowing sheet. It wrapped around the Mutant, who howled as it crashed against the barrier. The bubble puffed out into a glowing sphere and the surface buzzed with shimmering masses.

I came to a stop, holding out my hand. My braid flipped over my shoulder and a breeze snaked across my neck, cooling the warm and sticky sweat. My fingers were arched like I was holding something and shook from the strain. The Mutant slammed its fists against the barrier and the sensation made a pain sizzled between my eyes.

It bellowed in my ears, pressing down on me like I was drowning, and I bit my lip. It had been weeks but my powers still hurt to use. It was like someone was pointing a laser straight between my eyes, and the intense beam buzzed without mercy. I didn't know how long I could keep this up. My forcefields had great potential, but it wasn't getting any better, and Nel didn't seem to have any answers for it. Other then, 'just keep practising, Helga' and 'It's much like a muscle. If you keep stretching it, something must change about it, right?' I think she just wanted to cover up the fact that she had no idea herself how my powers worked.

Then, my phone rang.

I froze, for a brief moment not recognising those blaring guitars and pulsing beats, before looking down to my boot. Who the hell was calling me? No, scratch that. Who the hell would want to call me? Not many people even had my number, except maybe—my mind flashed to a certain face and my chest flared. A mix of anger and skittishness filled me, and I shook my head.

No, he had nothing to do with this. It wasn't him. Why would he even call me? To apologise? Please. He probably thought he was in the right and I the wrong, and maybe he was correct in that, but I didn't care.

I glanced at the Mutant, who was howling, but its cries were trapped beneath the barrier, so the night remained silent. Figuring I was safe, I reached down with one hand and pulled out my phone. My focus was stuck on keeping the forcefield up so I didn't even bother checking the screen before I hit answer.

"Hello?" I asked in a heightened voice. It sometimes escaped my notice how deep Blue Jay's voice was, especially in comparison to Helga. And if someone was calling Helga's phone, three guesses who it was they were expecting to answer.

"Hey, Helga."

I froze, recognising that voice.

Shit.

"Oh! H–Hey!" I forced out a loud burst of laughter, turning away from the Mutant. "What's up, Pheebs?"

My heart rose into my throat. It felt like months since I'd last seen her and I couldn't help the surge low of guilt that sank in my stomach. It had been an active choice to step away from her, but I still felt awful that she had barely even crossed my mind.

"Well, I was just wondering, um, well, I have the next two afternoons off again," she said, but I could hear some shuffling and hushed voices in the background. She wasn't alone. "And we still haven't had that original reschedule of Sundae Monday and I was thinking tha—"

"FUCK!" I cried when a ripple of pain snapped over me. It sizzled so intensely that I lost my footing, crashing onto my knees and almost dropping my phone. I slammed my hand down to catch myself and crunched my lip over my teeth, buckling slightly at the scrapping. The air rolled through me and I slapped my palm into my knee to catch my breath.

Ruffled strands of hair dangled over my eyes when I looked up. I sharply sucked in a breath, watching as the Mutant galloped away. Stupid thing had recognised I'd been distracted and used that to its advantage, punching through my weakening forcefield until it had disappeared.

"H, are you okay?"

Phoebe's voice flooded the silence. I shut my mouth, straightening up and climbing to my feet, and clutched the phone tight in my pale fingers. The Mutant gave an ugly snarl before leaping over the roof in an impressive, swooping arc.

I huffed.

"Oh, yeah, fine, I just . . . tripped up some stairs—totally fine now though," I told her then bounded after the Mutant.

The breeze stung my face and shocked my lungs. It whistled so loud in my ears that I probably wouldn't have been able to hear Phoebe, if she was even talking. I tried not to focus on that and instead paid my attention onto the task at hand. My body was rapidly tiring, and I knew that I should probably hang up on Phoebe, but for whatever reason, I just couldn't.

I was nearing the ledge and was about to leap onto the next roof after the Mutant when I suddenly spotted a group of teenagers near the opening of the alleyway below. The gap between the two roofs were wide and the edges of the roofs overlooked a dark alleyway, full of garbage and patches of unknown liquids.

The teenagers stood on the other side of the road, directly across from the alleyway. I shrugged, confident that the space between us was large enough for them not to notice me when I recognised their faces—Gerald, Arnold and Phoebe.

I stopped so suddenly that my heart slammed against my ribcage. Only I had been readying myself to jump so when I stopped, I did so when I was propped right on the edge of the roof. My arms swung around like windmills as my weight rocked back and forth, the alleyway seeming so much further then before. I clacked my teeth together to muffle the scream deep in my throat. Nausea swirled in my abdomen as I quickly rocked back on my heels so I safely could shift back onto the roof.

Well, okay, mostly safely. I ended up losing my balance and falling again but thankfully, it wasn't over the edge of the roof. Instead, I fell back onto my hands and hips and the phone clattered down beside me. I hissed from the pain of it all but couldn't move right away. Because over the thrumming of pain sweeping through me, was a frantic giddiness that left me shocked and stunned.

"What was that?" Phoebe's voice was loud from the speakers, but I could also hear it faintly from below. I rolled onto my hands and knees and crept to the edge of the roof, peering down. Thankfully, the trio hadn't seemed to notice me.

Phoebe's face was scrunched, her eyes focused on her feet while she held the phone tight to her ear. Gerald was beside her, watching carefully, and his fingers were splayed across her back. Arnold stood a few feet from the both of them, hands in his pockets. He stood directly beneath the streetlight, so the yellow fluorescence rained down on him. Sharp shadows struck the folds of his clothing and concealed his face.

My chest tightened and I looked away, pressing the phone back to my ear.

"Uhh, nothing—I thought I lost my, um, pencil, but silly me—just dropped it," I forced another laugh, which was awkward cause I was also trying hard to keep quiet. They weren't that far away from me, and it's not like you needed super hearing to overhear a superhero standing above you.

Glancing back to the Mutant, I rolled my wrist and let another barrier snap from the tips of my fingers. It bolted across the gap and swept over the surface of the roof with a sharp hiss! But when it slammed into the Mutant's ankles, the stupid thing cried out as it was knocked from its feet and slammed into the ground. My heartrate spiked and I whipped my gaze back to the trio, who looked up with alarm.

I panicked and blurted out, "Say, where are you?"

It was a stupid question—I already knew the answer—but it was the quickest thing that came to mind. It also bit me in the ass when Phoebe suddenly looked up at the street sign and immediately, I threw myself backwards to escape her notice. But the movement was practically a jolt and I ended up landing on my ass. My palms were back against the concrete, the skin achingly scrapped, and the phone fell from my hands. It clattered on its screen so when Phoebe's voice came out, it was slightly muffled.

"Pinewood view, pretty sure," she answered, oblivious, and I cringed. They were further away but it was possible for Phoebe to possibly hear her voice echoing from where she stood.

I scrambled from my palms and rolled onto my knees, snatching the phone before she could finish talking.

"Gerald decided he wanted to take us to a movie since it's not yet my curfew."

Or at least, I think that's what she said. The screen was pressed against my chest so honestly, her voice was a complete fuzz.

"Oh," I said through gritted teeth and forced myself up. There was a dull throbbing in my palms and when I looked down, the skin was scrapped like torn pieces of paper.

I quietly sighed, the stinging growing stronger with the cold breeze. There was a slight pause and I took the time to roll back onto my feet and peer down the roof. The boys were watching Phoebe, this time with a mixture of concern and confusion, and Phoebe herself had wrapped both her hands around the phone.

I held my breath, watching them carefully and determining whether I should actually make the leap. Gerald seemed easy to bypass; his eyes were always clouded whenever he was near Phoebe. But Arnold was more focused, frowning slightly, and wasn't quite watching Phoebe. His eyes were on her but it was like his mind was somewhere else.

I shrugged and decided it wasn't any of my business. I punched the air and a wire sprang from my wrist, shooting across the gap between the roofs.

"How nice," I told her before I was swept over the crevice. The air rushed past me, spiralling in my ears, and my feet landed nimbly on the other side. I winced slightly and listened for any sharp gasps or exclamations about the dark shape that had flown overhead.

"Why are you whispering?"

I eased a tiny breath.

"Bob's watching another match," I lied smoothly, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. A rush of power flooded my fist and I hurled it at the Mutant, who had been ready to leap onto the next roof. "Real antsy about it."

It flashed bright against the dark, but the Mutant ducked out of the way before it was hit. My heart came to a stop when the Mutant suddenly swung around and charged in my direction. The air slammed against my lungs as the deformed creature moved closer and closer. If this were an ordinary fight, I could have taken this fucker down. No biggie. But with Pheebs on the other line, it was a whole other ballpark.

And not only that, I couldn't hold my forcefields for very long. They took a certain amount of concentration that was pretty much impossible with Pheebs in my ear.

I sighed. Aye yai yai, was this a situation.

The Mutant had a slippery body and advanced with limbs that moved like they were attached to invisible cords. But it was fast, like a wet flash of lighting, and appeared in front of me with a sharp whoosh! that swept my hair back.

Its lips pulled back to reveal smoggy teeth that looked like puzzle pieces that had been crammed together. But its fists cracked red before jerking for my face. My breath hitched and I wrenched backwards, pressing the phone tight to my chest. The Mutant swung again from the other side and I repeated my movements. This apparently pissed it off and it lunged forward, sweeping its fist for my nose. My reflexes burnt and I swung back onto my foot. Elaborately twisting my body, I managed to duck beneath its fist and the Mutant lost its balance. It soared over me then crashed against the ground, landing on its elbows and knees.

My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it vibrating from the back of my skull. The air slammed back into me and buried deep into my lungs. I choked slightly, the blood roaring, and realised that Phoebe had been talking. The screen was still pressed to my chest so the vibrations buzzed against my uniform.

I kept my eyes on the Mutant, who was slowly pushing itself up, and placed the phone back to my ear.

"—want to meet with us?" she finished. "I still have fifteen minutes."

My mouth slightly hung since I'd completely missed on what she'd been saying but could still gather the basis of her statement. I was about to answer when the Mutant leapt up and sprinted for me again.

The air tightened in my throat.

"Um, hold that thought," I muttered then pressed the phone to my collarbone and shot out another wire. It struck the Mutant between its armpit and chest with a thwip! and earnt a loud cry. I winced, more than certain that that had gotten their attention, and sharply spun on the balls of my feet.

The wire yanked the Mutant around then smacked its body into the ground on my right. It was about to pick itself up when I suddenly charged; leaping into the air and, with an elaborate spin, I swung my leg and slammed my calf down onto its scalp. There was a sharp smack! as its face plonked back onto the ground and it collapsed onto its chest.

I huffed, the sudden silence ringing, and pressed the phone back to my ear.

"Pheebs—"

"What the hell of that?!" she suddenly exclaimed and I winced. "I thought you were at home!"

I gnashed my teeth. Fuck, I did say that, didn't I?

There was a rustle and I looked over my shoulder, realising that the Mutant was pushing itself back to its feet. It bared its mismatched teeth, eyes glowing with malice, before lunging again. I pressed the phone close to my face and dodged to the side then ducked beneath the fist. It glanced my temple, a sharp strand of air cutting my skin, before the Mutant toppled over again.

"I, uhh, just walked outside," I fought to keep my voice even as the Mutant swung back around in my direction. Its dark face was grounded and edged with exasperation, and its eyes were glowing brighter then stop lights. "Yeah, someone's watching something on his phone—really loud. Lotta guns, car chases—that sorta thing."

I was about to continue when the Mutant sprinted again. This time, I rolled my eyes and rolled my wrist, sending another spiralling barrier hurtling for it. The glowing sphere smashed into the Mutant's nose and sent it back onto the ground with a small whine.

"So, what was it you wanted again?" I asked and wiped away some of the dampness on my forehead. The smooth metal from my mask was cool, which made me realise just how enflamed the rest of me was. My braid was covering my neck and sweat was sliding down the back of my collar.

"Uhh, I wanted to know if you were free tomorrow afternoon," Phoebe answered, but her voice slightly wavered, and I wasn't sure if it was because she was confused with my responses or wary. "Or even now."

"Free tomor—GAH!"

And before I had even finished, the Mutant had suddenly gotten up and lunged for me. Its arms wrapped tight around my waist and its face whacked into my torso. The remaining air was squeezed tight from my body. I hadn't even realised that we had been slowly edging back to the gap between the two roofs until now. Now being me falling from said roof and back into the alleyway.

The air coiled around me, trying to keep me from the gravitational pull that was tugging us down. My heart slammed into my throat as the weightlessness lashed my back, clasping around my hands. The Mutant's arms left my body as the winds carried us further and my shoulder sharply grazed the bricked walls.

My hands were tight around my phone. I could still hear Phoebe's voice demanding what was going on. I squeezed my teeth together to hold back the scream and turned away from the edge of the alleyway where I knew they still resided. But then I noticed the fire escape against the right wall—my side—and an idea flashed in my mind. I shifted in the air and shot out my legs and when they banged against something, I wrapped them tightly over the metal bar.

The fall came to a sudden stop with a violent jerk and my head smacked against the stairs with a resounding clang! I grunted, the world spinning, and reached up—or down—to rub that area when I remembered that the Mutant was still falling. I looked up—wait, no, down—and gasped when I saw how close it was to hitting the ground.

I shot out my hand.

Streaks of blue glimmered around the Mutant and formed into a perfectly round orb. It wrapped around the Mutant like a wave, forming into a dazzling prison, and the creature cried out. It slammed against the barrier and when it realised that it was trapped again, began hitting against the confines.

I breathed. That was a close one.

I then remembered Phoebe on the other line and sighed, reluctantly pressing the phone back to my ear. The words she was saying were quick, practically a buzz, and I couldn't understand what it was she was even saying. I opened mouth to ask what she was talking about when I noticed the group across the street had suddenly turned in my direction.

Inwardly, I swore.

Phoebe's back was still facing me, and her eyes were wrapped tight around her phone, but Gerald had turned and noticed me. His mouth had fallen open and he stretched out a shaking hand to Arnold, who looked up with a dazed look of surprise.

Shit.

"Um, actually," I said, voice rushed. "I'm kinda busy right now. I'm gonna have to go."

"But you haven't said—"

"My hands are tied, Pheebs."

The unintentional pun was unfortunately not lost on me, but I ended the call before she could say anything. Gerald turned around to get her attention while Arnold kept staring at me and, for whatever reason, I couldn't look away.

The cramps in my chest stirred and I had to swallow to keep them from rising. The memories swirled behind my eyes and echoes jarred in my mind. The way he had looked down at me, the hardness in his eyes, the light that had spilled around him. It was differently to how the light filtered over him now; before, it had been softer, folding around his shoulders like a halo, while now it was sharp, and shadows struck across his face.

Phoebe looked up when Gerald tapped her shoulder and before she could turn to me, I looked away and stuffed the phone into my shirt. Putting it back into my boot was obviously out of the question, and thankfully the uniform was stretchy enough to slip the phone inside. The metal was warm against my skin, probably from how tight I'd been holding onto it. Hopefully the trio were far away enough to not have realised that I'd been on my phone, otherwise I was fresh out of excuses.

I heard Phoebe gasp when she saw me but pretended I hadn't noticed them. Instead, I wrapped my fingers around the bar, unhooking my legs, and flipped back down to the ground. A burning fuzziness struck between my brows and simmered to the back of my skull. Keeping up a forcefield was hard enough but doing so without my hands and trying to manoeuvre myself from a fire escape was straight up painful.

My feet hit the ground with a thud! and I shoved a palm against the bricks to catch my balance. I wasn't injured, but the forcefield was burning my senses. I sucked in a cold, biting breath, the ground slightly shifting beneath my feet, and glanced down.

The alleyway was carved with shadows, but a large square of light pushed down the lane from the streetlights. It pushed my own shadow against the back wall, making me look so much larger than I was, and folded over the forcefield. Ripples of something dark were spreading from my boots and I wrinkled my nose, deciding I didn't want to know what it was I was standing in.

I looked up at the Mutant; it banged its fists against the barrier and roared so violently that salvia splattered against the walls.

I scrunched my nose. Gross.

"Blue Jay?"

The voice came from over my shoulder and when I turned, I made sure to do so with a look of surprise on my face.

The first thing that registered was Phoebe's face.

My chest seized. It had been so long since I'd seen her. I could barely remember our last conversation, it felt so distant, like it had been a forgotten dream. She still looked the same though. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears and curled at the nape of her neck. Her eyebrows were short and sparse, and her body was swallowed in a dark sweater much too big for her.

It was our high school's jumper—my heart slightly sank at the memories—but it was much too large to be hers. The sleeves were folded a couple of times and the hem was just shy of reaching her knees. It must've been Gerald's, who stood beside her somewhat protectively. His white shirt hung open, buttons undone, and revealed the grey shirt he wore beneath.

A storm then rolled in my heart when I got to Arnold. His hair was slightly more disgruntled then what it had been earlier and his sideswept bangs hung messily over his forehead. He wore the same jumper as Phoebe, only his fit him. I ignored the slight ache in my chest, ignored that the last time I'd seen it on him, we'd been . . .

"It's fine honestly."

Arnold's eyes zipped between the barrier and I, an excited grin spreading over his face. It made my gut twist tight into a knot. There was something about that grin, how it was slightly lifted more on the left, or it revealed just the right amount of teeth. It was so beautiful and looking at it felt like the knife in my back was twisting deeper and deeper.

Curling my lips, I looked away.

"The boy's uniform covers more anyway."

"What're you doing here?" I demanded, sneaking my focus onto Gerald more then the others. He was the only one I could look at without feeling any emotional ties crush me. "Can't you see it's dangerous for a couple of kids?"

It was a fairly legitimate question to ask, but when Gerald heard it, he softly scoffed. "Sorry, we'll be more wary next time."

I felt my left brow twitch. Seriously? Did he have this attitude for everyone he met or was it reserved for me specifically?

"Aren't they telling kids to go straight home?" I tried again, this time through slightly gritted teeth. "There's been a lot of attacks."

A peek through my peripherals showed me the way Arnold pointedly glared at his friend, but Gerald ignored him with a shrug.

"They have," he admitted, nodding. "But we wanted to catch a movie."

This piqued my interest.

"Oh, what did you watch?"

Gerald opened his mouth, but it was Arnold who answered.

"Birds of Prey," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, lips tugging up into a bashful smile.

I was slightly taken back with his sudden desire to speak up, but even more uncomfortable with it. I'd been banking on Gerald's assertive nature to overpower anything Arnold could've said. Gerald was so overprotective and nosey that I expected him to ask some questions, I could briefly answer him, quickly defeat this Mutant then be on my way. Arnold wasn't shy, but he could be soft spoken, and I'd hoped that it would've held him back.

And now, I was stuck staring straight at him.

Well, okay, staring slightly down at him. Blue Jay was still pretty tall, and actually towered over Arnold. It was really strange, I was used to craning back my neck just to meet his eyes, usually as the sun shone dazzlingly behind him. But now, I was in his position, peering down on him as the streetlights hit my face.

I couldn't help noticing how he watched me. It wasn't like with Helga or was it like with his friends or even Lila. It was with this warmth, a soft kind that made his eyes sparkle with a fresh sheen that reminded me of morning dew. And a large grin pushed across his face with just the right touch of shyness that sent a tingle down my spine.

It was a feeling I hated. I was still so angry and, hell, hurt with him. Today may not have meant much to him, but those words hadn't left my mind. They rattled in my brain until my head was swollen with a nausea.

The nausea swept and curled so elaborately that I choked on the anguish. The warmth was fading, whisked away by the remnants of today. It still weighed heavy on me because it seemed Arnold was over it. He'd seemed a little glum before, but now that Blue Jay had arrived, he was totally over it. The fact made my blood boil beneath my skin and I pressed my lips tightly together, spinning around.

My eyes connected with the Mutant's glowering gaze before it roared and bashed its fists again. A spasm of pain sizzled through me and I clenched my teeth, holding the screams close to my chest. It was like thick bubbles were bursting inside my brain like bombs and ramming against the insides of my skull.

A searing red crushed my vision, cackling and spinning until my peripherals were a tunnel. The air twisted like bullets in my ears and I had to fight to keep my mouth in a jagged line.

"Blue Jay?"

A choked grunt escaped me, and I threw out my hands, fighting against the blotches to lift that barrier from the ground. There were gasps but I kept my attention focused on the magical orb that rose higher and higher. The air burnt around me, singeing my ears, and sweat slid down my temples.

I released a tight breath. It was moments like these that I wished I had actually sat down to figure out my powers. I knew how to attack with them but keeping them up for more than a few seconds was still a complete and utter mystery.

Focus, Helga, focus.

Stares were boring into my back. I bent down to my knee, keeping one hand up, and swiped the knife from my boot. The metal was warm, vibrating slightly, and the light bounced from the blade against the walls. I rose back to my feet and looked back to the Mutant, shoving a long tendril of hair from my face. The Mutant glared back at me, pressing its claws against the barrier. The breath that fled my abdomen was rigid and burnt like summer air.

Then, I swished my arm and the forcefield suddenly vanished. The Mutant was left in the air but before it could even fall, I threw my knife in its direction. The blade soared like a silver bolt and pierced the Mutant's large, round shoulder.

The wind cried in my ears as I swung on the balls of my feet to the trio. But the movement had been so quick that I lost my balance and would've fallen had a pair of hands not latched around my elbows. The side of my head bounced against a shoulder and a shocked gasp hit my ears.

I paused, heart stuttering, and glanced into Arnold's eyes.

He blinked, mouth slightly dropping, and looked as if he himself hadn't been expecting his reflexes to be so quick. I was so close to his face, his scent wafted in my nostrils, and I suddenly could smell all the wonderful things I hadn't as Helga.

I could smell the sweetness of his hair, the salted butter lingering on his fingers, and the warm musk in his skin. It wasn't perfect, there was an overdose of deodorant in his collar, but it was so explicitly Arnold, it swept me up completely.

Arnold's eyes were like deep pools of springtime and flickered down to his hands. His lips pressed together as he studied the tight hold, he had on me, then he looked back up to my face.

The expression he wore was so soft, riddled with affection, and something in me tightened looking at it. Because it wasn't me he was looking at, but Blue Jay, who wasn't me. She was perfect. And I couldn't escape what had happened today, what I had realised while on the bridge with Lila. That resentment that burned like a fire in me, one that had been buried so deep I'd forgotten it but was now rising. The tightness got worse when the strands waved against Arnold's forehead from the breeze in that beautifully frustrating way it always did.

I wrenched myself from his arms and he blinked, surprised, but before anyone could say anything, a sharp wind crossed my cheek. I swung my arm into a karate–styled block and a blue flash flared from my skin. It was so bright and sudden that the blaze made spots appear before my eyes and I had to blink a few times as the barrier stretched around everyone.

The blue light washed over their faces, revealing their looks of marvel. Gerald had pulled Phoebe into his arms, nestling her ear to his chest, and his mouth dropped as he examined the swirling patterns surrounding him. She had a similar expression, hair flapping between his fingers, and her eyes studied every corner of the solid bubble with a great interest.

My eyes flickered back to Arnold; the rich colour ignited around him, washing him in blue. His eyes were wide and unbelieving, darting frantically as if to gather every small fraction. The blue magic swirled around him, an electrical heat full of alluring wisps, elegantly curling and twisting from another. The light that showered over him was harsh and sharp shadows stretched beneath his cheekbones.

The explosion roared and cracked against the barrier with such a force that I was thrown forwards. I softly cried out, braid flying over my shoulder, and caught Arnold's gaze whipping back to me. His hands moved again and he stepped forward, but I caught hold of my balance.

My feet stamped squarely back onto the pavement and I released a breath, an inescapable pounding pulsing against my vision. I leaned over my knees and wrapped my hand tight around my leg, lowering my jaw until my eyes were on my feet. The blast was still roaring, the heat simmering, and I had to keep the barrier up until it was clear. My arm was straining, but I kept it up and high until I could feel the air around us cooling.

Then, it became silent.

The air buckled in my chest when a ringing quietness sang loud and clear. It was only disrupted by the dry pants coming from the trio and me. I peeked up when a few quiet seconds had passed and let my barrier vanish when I confirmed that the Mutant was gone.

"Everyone okay?" I asked, clearing my throat and turning back to the group. They seemed okay; there weren't any bruises or anything, which wasn't a surprise considering they had only seen the last piece of the action.

Arnold's eyes snapped back to mine and I looked to Gerald, who nodded. I could tell he was taken back by everything that had just happened, but he was trying to keep it together. Phoebe, on the other hand, was watching me with eyes so wide that she resembled a cartoon character.

"Um, how about you, erm—" I suddenly remembered that I shouldn't know her name. "Sorry, what's your name?"

She blinked, like she couldn't believe I was addressing her, but reddened when everyone turned their attention to her.

"P–Phoebe," she whispered and dropped her gaze to her shoes.

I blinked at her demeanour. "Right, um, is she okay?"

I didn't mean it rudely, but it was weird watching your best friend—practically your sister—act like this. Granted, she didn't know it was me, but I'd never seen her act like this because of me. A part of me was warmed by it; between the heightening senses of danger, the rapid shifts in this side of my life, it was nice to come back to something that hadn't changed. This aspect of my life wasn't stable, there was so much of a rush to it, that there wasn't really a guarantee to any part of it. But to come back to Phoebe, the best part of my old life, and see that she hadn't changed, it was comforting.

Arnold placed a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't look up.

"Yeah, sorry, she's just a huge fan and gets shy really easily," he gave her a soft smile, one that seemed brotherly, and raised his eyes back to mine.

Ah, right. I looked back to my best friend. I'd forgotten how much she admired Blue Jay.

". . . she represents some type of protection."

It was slightly anomalous how she regarded Blue Jay. Phoebe had always been such a logical person, preferring fact over fiction, and because of that, superheroes had never been her thing. Well, okay, a lot of genres weren't her thing—she especially hated parodies and drama—but superheroism was definitely one of them. It was why I'd been confused whenever she mentioned watching those types of movies with Gerald. I mean, sure, she liked the guy, but he was the type of person to line up to see those movies over and over again. But I guess, finding out people could throw up magical shields or run faster than the speed of light would spark in the interest in anyone. It probably brought out her inner scientist, who had to find out all the little facts and puzzle pieces that made up Blue Jay's world.

I smiled at her, stepping closer. Phoebe jumped slightly and jerked her eyes back up to mine, looking like a frightened puppy.

"You don't need to be so shy," I told her in a hushed voice, and something flickered across her face. "I'm just like you."

I should've been keeping my distance from her. Pheebs knew me more than anyone. Lila had managed to work out my identity before I had even told her, and I doubt it would be that hard of a guess for Phoebe. I shouldn't be treating her like this, but I couldn't help myself, it was a habit whenever I was with her.

"Except you also have super strength, fight weird alien things and oh yeah, can shoot forcefields," Gerald then cut in, ticking off the points on his fingers.

"Guilty," I surprised myself by cracking a smile and playfully raising my hands. They slightly tinged from the energy cackling beneath the skin. "But it's really sweet that you're a fan, Phoebe. You seem like a really nice girl."

It probably wasn't appropriate to say that considering we'd technically just met, but when Phoebe raised her face, she looked slightly different. Her eyes flickered away, looking down to her wringing hands, then back to me, and she bit her lip. She stepped away from Gerald and slightly inched towards me.

"B–Blue J–Jay, c–c–can I—c–can I—"

"Can she get an autograph?" Arnold finished for her, eyes shinning with amusement.

She shot him a grateful look, making him softly chuckle.

"Umm," I paused because I knew that was risky. I had pretty distinctive handwriting—my letters curled like vines and I always looped my e's and h's—and Phoebe could potentially recognise that. "Oh, well, I would but I, err—darn, no pen. Imagine that."

I snapped my finger and slightly kicked my foot, feigning disappointment. Arnold raised his eyebrows slightly and a heat crept up my neck, so I ducked my eyes back down.

"Oh, I have one," Gerald said, pulling out a pen from his pocket.

Well, shit.

"And I have paper," Arnold added and pulled out a small folded up piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and I realised that it had been hastily torn from his schoolbook, for whatever reason. But his eyes suddenly softened when he noticed the writing on the back. I couldn't see it, but a curiosity burned in me at the look on his face. He chewed on his lip, considering whether it was worth it, then shook his head and with Gerald, held out his item towards me.

I moved back, holding up my hands and forcing out a sheepish laugh. "Oh, look at that, you do. Well, um, actually I—"

"Blue Jay is honoured," another huskier voice said, and everyone turned around to the end of the alleyway. I let out a small breath, relief filling me when I realised it was just Lark, leaning up against the walls. The honey–toned light fell from behind her, turning her into a sleek silhouette, but her smile was stark white. "But unfortunately, that autograph might get out and someone could identify her writing."

I blinked, slightly stunned that she decided to be so honest with them, but figured she had good reason to be. Lila tended to read social cues and analyse exactly what foot needed to be slid forward much quicker than I could.

Sharp gasps filled air.

At first, I was slightly surprised with the immediate reaction but remembered this was their first time actually seeing Lark in person. It had only been a little under two weeks since Lark had made her debut and Arnold and Gerald had spent most of their time following her movements on social media.

My abdomen tightened when I glanced at Arnold. His mouth had parted as he looked at her with bright, wide eyes. I tried not to let it bother me, how he was reacting to Lark, but it was hard. I was used to having him reject Helga, but Blue Jay—a warped version of me twisted to reflect a perfect girl—would crush me.

Lark smirked, folding her arms behind her head, and approached us. Her footsteps were slow, echoing against the cement, and the golden light twisted around her. I rolled my eyes at her stance, she looked like an anime character, which, knowing Lila, was probably intentional.

"Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe—am I right?" she asked with a friendly chuckle, eyes shimmering as she spoke.

A shocked breath rippled over them.

"Y–Yeah, actually," Arnold stuttered, eyebrows knitting together. "But how do you know?"

She pointed at me. "Won't shut up about her little fanclub."

My jaw dropped. Oh, wow, way to bag me out, Lila.

"Fanclub?" Gerald demanded, scowling at me.

I lifted my chin slightly.

"Well, you're always there," I told him defensively. "And I don't always talk about them, Lark."

I shot her a filthy look cause I knew exactly what she had meant by fanclub. She may have mentioned their names, but she wasn't referring to Gerald or Phoebe. But instead of looking apologetic, a faint glimmer shone in Lark's eyes, and instantly I knew what she was up to.

"By the way, it's sweet to meet you, dude—erm, dudette," Gerald flashed a grin and held out his hand. Lark glanced at him with surprise before she grinned and accepted his handshake. And I rolled my eyes because of course Gerald would call a superhero dude. "What you do is super cool on TV."
She chuckled, nodding. "Thanks."

I couldn't help noticing the difference in how she acted with Gerald right now. I mean, it was obvious how close the pair of them, Gerald and Lila, were on a day–to–day basis. They were practically siblings; Gerald was super protective of her while Lila was always teasing him. Hell, I remembered times when I'd caught them conversing close in the hallways and often found myself wondering if they secretly had feelings for each other.

But now, as Lark, Lila was totally different with him. I mean, obviously, she couldn't exactly start debating which anime series was better when she was still Lark. But still, she held him now at a polite distance, one designed to feign friendliness but in actuality kept him at an arm's length. It was the type of distance that was so subtle that you didn't notice it until hours later when you'd gotten home and couldn't recall learning much about them.

"Y–Yeah, you're r–r–really cool," Arnold stuttered and stepped forward. Lark rose her eyebrows, slightly amused, and he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck with a wavering smile. "Ah, sorry, I'm kinda starstruck right now. I'm a bit of a fan."

A weight sank low in my chest. The way he looked at her was different from how he looked at Blue Jay or even Lila. There was a glamour about it, not soft with affection, but his face was still lit up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. I shouldn't have been so upset, watching this enchantment sweep so plainly over his face, but I was, and my stomach curled so tight that I wanted to hurl.

"Bit of?" Gerald laughed, slinging an arm around Phoebe, who looked up with quiet curiosity. "This kid is the biggest superhero dork to ever live! His room is covered in posters, the only books he reads are comics and he went to see The Avengers, like, seven times. Meeting you is practically his wet dream!"

Arnold's face burned red and Lark burst out laughing.

"Gerald!" Arnold glared helplessly at his friend, who shrugged with a chuckle, then turned frantically back to Lark. "Um, he was joking about that, i–i–it's not like that—" then he turned back to me, cheeks flaming. "A–And I'm still a huge fan of you too, Blue Jay. In fact, you're kinda my number one—no offence, Lark."

Lark grinned, hardly offended.

"None taken," she said with a shrug. "She is pretty awesome."

Arnold smiled. "Yeah."

I looked at Lark, more than aware what she was doing, and wasn't surprised at the familiar sparkle in her eyes. Her lips were pulled into a wicked smirk, reaching the bottom of her mask, and she lowered her chin and waggled her eyebrows. Which looked ridiculous, considering the mask covered her eyebrows, so it just looked like a pair of worms were wiggling on her face.

I rolled my eyes and turned my chin. This situation wasn't convincing me much of anything except that I was never going to be good enough for Arnold. Because once again, someone else was there to be his favourite. The same person, in fact. And he would only see me as someone from his past, not for who I was now.

"Well, I think it's time that we head out," I announced in a voice that sliced the dark. Phoebe jerked up and away from Gerald, staring at me with wider eyes. "You kids got rides back? It's not safe to be walking out now."

"Yeah, I drove in," Gerald said, glancing at Phoebe with confusion, before shrugging and turning back to me. "But I parked a little away from the cinemas to save money."

I nodded. "Okay, well, let's go, Lark."

Arnold frowned. "Um, but Blue Jay—"

There was a sharp hiss! as my wire launched from my vambrace and swung over the roof above us. I caught Lark raising her eyebrows, about to say something, when I kicked off and shot into the air. The breeze was strong, wrapping around my neck like a hand, and the wire swung me up higher and higher until I leapt over and landed on the roof.

The air was stale against my face and my insides were bubbling. My fingers shook by my sides, curling into quivering fists, and an achiness buried deep in my chest. I clenched my jaw and shot off into a sprint. The wind stung my lungs like a whip as I moved and the stinging and my chest began to hurt more and more.

I wasn't surprised when a fast patter of footsteps joined me from my right and didn't have to look to know that Lark had caught up with me. She didn't say anything at first and our loud pants filled the air, but a heaviness rippled over us from the unsaid words.

The familiar pattern of stares swirled around us, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, and we were about to leap onto the next roof when Lark finally said something.

"Still mad?" her voice remained light despite the seriousness in her face.

I grunted, not responding since we were both leaping over the gap and onto the next roof. The air was like needles in my throat and my hair slapped against my neck, soaking some of the sweat.

"It's been an hour since we talked about it, Lark," I told her once our feet had hit the flat plane. We slid to a safe stop, the air coiling around our limbs, and I was about to continue running when Lark suddenly clasped onto my elbows.

I stopped, looking at her with confusion, and she scrunched her face.

"Listen, Arnold, he . . ." she hesitated, glancing to her feet with uncertainty before setting her jaw and turning back. "He fucked up—he really did, and I'm not defending his actions. But . . . it wasn't completely unwarranted."

"What?!" I exclaimed, horrified, and yanked my elbow from her.

"I'm not saying he was right to say those things," she quickly put in, waving her hands slightly with a panicked look. "I'm just saying . . . I think he was worried about you—today, I mean."

At first, I thought she was joking or even lying and was more prepared to give her a piece of my mind. Because it wasn't fair to use my feelings for Arnold to make me feel guilty for being angry with him. But when I glanced at her, I was surprised with the amount of seriousness hardening in her expression. She set her jaw and held my gaze firmly so I wouldn't assume she was lying.

But still, her words didn't ease my angry. They just made the knot in my throat twist tighter.

"Why should he be?" I muttered and crossed my arms, looking away. "I'm a delinquent, remember? I should be a pro at fighting."

Even now, that word made bitterness sink in me. It was like a salt, fizzling through my skin and weighing down on my bones. It burned through me and I rolled my hands into fists to control the heat sparking at my fingertips.

Lark paused, looking me up and down.

"That . . ." her eyebrows crammed together into a sympathetic frown. "That word really got to you, didn't it?"

I forced out a laugh that felt like a hot hiss of air. Oh, she had no idea. And I knew what she was trying to get at; she wanted to know what it was about the word that hurt me so much. I knew that I was supposed to be opening up more, releasing my feelings so they wouldn't keep festering beneath the surface, but honestly, I couldn't force myself this time.

It was too strong, too raw, and it felt like recounting everything out loud would make me explode. I would have to start from the beginning and make it to the end, and then everything would come crashing down on me. I was already so exhausted from our discussion on the bridge, and then later our encounter with the Mutants, I just didn't want to add anything more. I wanted to curl up in bed and sleep into a deep sleep.

I shoved a hand through my hair. "Just . . . let's drop it, okay?"

It was a plea and Lark's eyebrows rose into her bangs. She stared at my face slightly, mouth slightly open, and though I didn't know what it was she saw, it must've been enough for her to temporarily give up.

She twisted her mouth to the side.

"Fine, just—" she broke off with a sigh and clasped her elbows. The breeze ruffled her hair, which burnished bright red against the cloaked darkness. "You've been in love with that boy for years now. And . . . he really didn't mean to upset you so much. Just . . . don't throw everything away, okay?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "I see we're gonna have to re–define what boundaries mean."

She cracked a smirk, hair shaking behind her. "Okay, fine," she chuckled, holding up her hands and stepping backwards. "But I get dibs on being the one you vent to."

I grinned. "Well, who else would it be?"

---

The next morning, I was practically floating.

Not the good kind, though. The kind where it felt like you were breathing in sunshine and were just so full of happiness that you could walk on air. No, it was more the bad kind, where you were so out of it that you genuinely couldn't tell if you were moving or not. Because although I had managed to get an extra ten minutes of sleep—since I'd crashed at Lila's—it really hadn't mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Neither of us had stayed up late last night, but the exhaustion that had built up over the past week was beginning to wear down on us. According to Nel, anyway. She was still sore at us for going out in general last night, before the Mutant attack that is, and when we had gotten back, she had given us a lecture that had last longer then the fight had. If you keep going out every night, Nel had said as she'd paced the room, then you shouldn't be surprised when it begins to catch up on you.

This was coming from the cat who had given us the reason to keep going out every night, but hey, what did I know?

Anyway, Lila and I were practically stumbling over each other as we climbed the bus that morning. She hobbled in front of me, hair swishing like a curtain against her buckled backpack which only hung from one shoulder this morning. Thankfully, she no longer was limping, but there was a slight shift in the way she moved. If you looked close enough, you could see how she prioritised one side and gripped the handlebars slightly more than necessary.

Another thing Nel had chosen to yap about last night. Apparently, going out last night had disrupted the healing process, and now it would take longer for to heal. I'd rolled my eyes at the time, but looking at her now, I had to admit, Nel wasn't totally off the mark.

And, to make matters even better, there weren't any spare seats this morning.

Yipee.

"Get any sleep this time?" Gerald asked when we approach him and Arnold. They were sat at the back half, on the right side of the aisle.

I eyed him enviously. The look in his eyes was bright, clearly Gerald had gotten a full eight hours of sleep last night. Despite the fact that he was probably out later then Lila and I, if he had to drop everyone off before going home himself.

"A little," Lila nodded then looked around with a small groan. "Guess we're standing then."

Arnold looked up. "Did you want our seats?"

"Oh, no, I—" but then Lila's eyes suddenly lit up when she glanced between Arnold and I. Oh, criminy—I already knew where this was going. "Oh, actually, yes! My, erm, I hurt my ankle."

She then feigned a pained look and grabbed onto her leg. I rolled my eyes at her antics—it was too early for this.

Gerald rose his brows but Arnold was on his feet the moment she battered her eyelashes. He held on her shoulder and gently shuffled her into his seat next to Gerald.

"Then definitely sit, Lila," he said with a warm smile, the same he had given to Phoebe. "I'll stand."

"Oh, thank you, Arnold," she clapped her hands together like she really was grateful. She beamed at him in a way that was supposed to mask the diabolical, calculating intellect she really was, but I saw through it. I knew exactly what she was up too. She confirmed my thoughts when she sharply glanced at me with a pointed look in her eyes.

I wanted to poke my tongue out at her when Arnold suddenly looked at me, blinking in surprise like he'd only just realised I was here. I tried not to let that sting, but there was a bitterness that curled inside of me.

A silence stretched between us, and our eyes stayed locked on one another. I wasn't sure how to act around Arnold anymore. I was still angry, and hurt, and resentful, but to a much lesser extent. I'd had the time to think everything over, to sleep on it and then later, open up a little with Lila as we got ready together. She still didn't know much about the context behind being called a delinquent, but she understood it wasn't a word I fancied, and she also was aware of him calling me a bully. I was thankful that she didn't make excuses for him as she listened; she just sat there, nodding along and helping me when I got too tongue tied. She validated how I felt, telling me I shouldn't be ashamed of my feelings, but I should think things through before doing anything drastic.

And surprisingly, after I'd vented to her, I did end up feeling slightly better. Like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The anger was still there, but it was simmering, and it was easier to look at him without being overwhelmed by that resentment. But still, I couldn't wipe away those looks he'd given Lark last night. They flashed through my mind like visions, ones that I couldn't control.

Arnold dropped his gaze, shuffling his weight.

"Hello, Helga," he eventually said after a long pause.

The words were suddenly caught in my throat and I looked to Lila for support. Gerald looked between us, confused, while Lila nodded rapidly in a way that said, 'say something!'

I rolled my eyes.

"Football head," I nodded then turned around.

The fear was cold and heavy in my chest. I no longer looked at any of them, but I could feel the tension doubling. It was like the air had thickened, turning into a rich smoke that left me gagging. I wrapped my hand around the bars above the seat, ignoring the shivers, and swallowed.

Students around us laughed and chatted about mindless things while sunny skies burst into the windows like a golden fog. But the air around us was so brittle that it probably could snap.

My back was to him, but I could feel Arnold's body heat wafting over me. I didn't know whether to put that down to the lack of space between us or my Guardian senses. Sometimes I forgot how heightened my senses now were, even as Helga, which explained how I could smell the aroma on his skin.

Cherry blossom.

He'd showered today. It shouldn't have had the effect that it did considering how angry I still was, but a small slither of warmth wriggled in my heart. Not because I was picturing him in the shower—well, until now—but because his hair was slightly curled from the dampness. The short golden strands looped into soft large ringlets around his head and especially his ears.

And then there was the way he smelled of cherry blossoms. It was so smooth and pleasant. It wafted through the air, sifting over my shoulders and floating to my nose. The sweetness folded in my throat and my stomach clenched. His scent was just so intoxicating, it made me want to spin around and hold him close.

I felt him move behind me, reaching up to grasp onto the handles hanging from the roof. Arnold was so tall that holding onto those handles made more sense than the bars along the seats. But his movement threw more of his scent in my direction and I bit down onto my tongue, holding my breath.

Why did karma hate me so much?

"So, um," Arnold suddenly cleared his throat and for whatever reason, I knew he was addressing me. "How's the uhh—"

"The eye?" I glanced over my shoulder and was slightly taken back by how close he stood to me. It was like yesterday when I could reach out my palm and lay it flat against his chest. It didn't help that he was wearing his jumper today. Faintly, I couldn't help wondering if he had smelt my own aroma when I'd given it back. "Fine."

"Yeah, uh, it's no longer . . ." he gestured to his face and forced a sheepish smile that didn't reach his eyes. "There."

"Perks of makeup, I guess," I shrugged. Technically, it wasn't a lie. The bruise beneath my eye had already cleared last night but I had used Lila's makeup to cover up some of the yellow spots from last night's fight. Thankfully, the fight hadn't been too much of a hassle and I hadn't sustained too many injuries so not much concealer was needed.

There was a sudden plastic squeak and both Arnold and I sharply glanced in Gerald's direction. The dark–skinned boy had been opening up a packet of salt and vinegar chips, eyes bright, and humming a song to himself.

But he stopped when he realised that we were all watching him.

"What?" he said, blinking at us. "It's salt and vinegar."

Was there ever a time when he wasn't oblivious to tension?

I was about to face the front of the bus again when something knocked against my ankle.

"Ow!" I cried out and glared over my shoulder. Lila didn't look the least bit guilty and gestured not so subtly at Arnold, who was watching her with bemusement.

Oh, criminy, wasn't her ankle supposed to be injured?

"So, um—" I cleared my throat and looked at the blonde boy. "Arnold, you're looking . . ."

I trailed off, unsure of how I could finish that without sounding like an idiot. Of course, Arnold looked amazing—he always did—but saying that felt too mushy and gross. He looked at me, curious, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. I sent a panicked look to Lila, who's face lit up as she supplied an answer.

"Handsome?"

Gerald gulped down his mouthful of chips. "Fit?"

"Strikingly personable?"

Arnold cheeks had turned red at this point, matching mine, and he dropped his gaze to feet, which I assumed was a bad sign.

"Wha—I—no, no, I meant—wait," I stopped suddenly and turned back to Lila. "Personable?"

She nodded, smiling. "Oh, it's a charming word that's defined as a pleasing physical appearance."

Lila, you nerd.

I sighed, ignoring the heat that continued to burn in my face, and reluctantly turned back to Arnold. He rose his eyes to mine, but looked strained, like he was holding himself back from glancing at the grinning redhead beside him.

"Well, what I meant to say was that you look well," I gave a pointed glare to Lila, who stuck out her tongue, and faced Arnold. "You look well."

His cheeks were still pink. "Um, thank you."

I nodded.

And then another silence coated us that made my heart wrap up in my throat and skydive into my stomach. The silence pulsed around us and everyone shuffled to distract themselves. Lila checked her nails, Arnold scratched the side of his face, Gerald munched extra loudly, and I looked to my feet.

Slaying Mutants was less painful than this.

"So, how was the movie?" Lia suddenly asked, and we all glanced back up.

Arnold blinked. "Movie?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Helga earlier informed me that the three of you went to the cinemas last night. What was it you saw again?"

"Birds of Prey," Arnold answered, face lighting up. "Lila, it was so awesome, you should've been there."

He shifted back in her direction and disappointment welled up inside me. It was just like last night when he'd been making eyes at Lark.

It was like I didn't exist.

Gerald swallowed his chips. "Not to mention Arnold nearly creamed his pants when he met—"

"Gerald!" Arnold hissed with wide eyes, cheeks turning pink again, and my heart practically stopped dead in my chest.

Lila's eyes snapped to my face—not helping, Lila—before she grinned and looked back to her friend. "Ooh, who? Who did he meet?"

Arnold scowled at Gerald, shaking his head in warning, but Gerald merely smirked and turned back to Lila.

"Someone with the initials B.J."

There was a pause before Lila burst out giggling at the accidental innuendo.

"Dude," Arnold groaned, face growing so red that he resembled a sunburn.

"Sorry!" Gerald held up his hands, smile still broad.

"Tell me the location of this meet," Lila teased between her giggles. "Was it in a dark, abandoned alleyway?"

"Lila!"

She only cackled harder, rocking back and forth in her seat, and Arnold's face grew hotter and hotter. He resembled a slab of salmon and I couldn't help myself, a short chortle of laughter escaped my own lips. Arnold paused, glancing in my direction, and I covered my mouth, flushing. There was a strange look in his eyes before his face contorted with mortification and he glanced to his side, covering his pink face.

"I'm just teasing, Arnold," Lila eventually said when she calmed down and patted his arm. He looked down at her, clearly still a bit sore at her. "Seriously though, was this person say a controversial but equally mysterious figure?"

His eyes immediately widened, and he looked away, the redness striking back. She observed his reaction with a smirk and turned to Gerald, raising both her eyebrows. He smiled, eyes twinkling, and nodded, which made Lila clap her hands with delight.

"Oh, well, how wonderfully exciting!"

I raised a brow enviously at her. Lila was a lot better at this acting thing then me. If I hadn't been in on everything, I genuinely would not be able to tell that she was lying. She was definitely gonna have to teach me her secrets.

"You're telling me," Gerald admitted with a grin. "Arnold was freaking out when she left."

"I wasn't freaking out, Gerald, you're exaggerating," Arnold snapped and glared at the pair of them like a young child.

"Dude, you wouldn't shut up about her the entire ride home," Gerald pointed out, unaffected with his friend's mood. "You should've seen it, Lila, he couldn't stop gushing about his little crush."

My heart crashed against my ribs and a heat travelled up the nape of my neck. The air suddenly felt colder around my face and I lost the agency to do anything, even as Lila grinned, flicking her eyes knowingly to mine.

Arnold groaned. "I do not have a crush on her."

But it was evident to anyone with eyes—or ears, for that matter—this this wasn't true. I glanced to my feet, heart galloping so wildly it shot into my throat. How did I feel about that? I thought it had been Lark he'd fancied. He had spent so much time talking about her and even told her to her face how excited he was to meet her.

"You're kinda my number one."

My stomach heavy and body buzzing with numbness. The only thing I could register was the pounding that rattled in my fingertips. Had I been wrong?

Gerald scoffed at his friend, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's why you're dragging me out tonight to get a picture of her."

I sharply glanced up, the dizzying feeling in my chest disappearing the minute those words hit my ears. Lila and I both looked at each other, the panic evident in our faces, then turned back to the boys.

"You're what?!" we both demanded.

Arnold locked his glare onto his best friend while Gerald's face suddenly fell, the realisation hitting him like a knife. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and apologetic, but the damage had been done.

"You're doing what, Shortman?" I repeated, placing one hand on my hip and turning back to the blonde. Because surely I had heard wrong. Surely Arnold wasn't going out tonight when it was becoming more and more common to head inside before darkness had hit. Sure, it was also becoming trending for those parties to set out for Blue Jay and Lark, but I figured it was only the idiots doing that. And, as far as I could tell, Arnold wasn't an idiot.

So, forgive me if I was a little bit confused.

Arnold's shoulders stiffened and his eyes flashed back to mine. The panic was evident in his face and he slowly opened his mouth to say something before the bus swerved sharply and I lost my balance. The handlebars slipped from my fingers and I almost fell to the ground when Arnold's hand snapped around mine.

A soft gasp flew from my lips and our eyes locked.

His skin was so warm against mine, an electrifying feeling shot up my arm and zapped into my chest. His eyes were wide, pressing me down with a glimmering shade of emerald, and he slowly pulled me to my feet.

"I—" he blinked then slowly let out a defeated breath. "We're just going out to—to see if we—I can get her picture."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" I barked then wrenched my wrist from his grip.

His eyes widened, surprised, and scanned my face before his expression clouded. "No, I'm . . . not."

"What the hell, football head?" I flung out a hand and he stepped backwards, eyes hardening. "I thought we talked about this!"

"No, you talked about this," he fired back. "I never agreed to it."

I opened my mouth to argue against that when I realised that he was technically right. Thinking back to that afternoon, Arnold had never actually agreed not to go searching for her. He had just reluctantly agreed with Lila that doing so would make it harder for her.

But still that point was still standing. Blue Jay had Lark, but fighting those Mutants wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

"And besides, what does it matter to you anyway?" he continued, pressing me with a scowl. "It's not like you're coming."

And for some reason, that stung. Which as stupid, considering I wouldn't be able to anyway, but it still hurt. Not just that I wasn't invited—you're not friends, Helga—but that he was practically stamping his foot in it that he never wanted me there anyway.

"It matters for the exact same reason it mattered to me last week," I responded. "You will get in her way."

"How would you know?" he demanded. "You aren't her!"

That was like a slap to my face. I already knew that Arnold had no idea that Blue Jay and I were one and the same, but it fucking hurt to hear him say it like that. Because it was obvious how he felt towards Blue Jay, how eager he was to talk with her, and just how downright enchanted he was with her, but me? He clearly didn't see me as worthy. She was poised, brave and selfless, while I was . . .

You're a bully, Helga.

It was a snap in my joints. A gush of pain that jolted through my body. My stomach ached because that was all I was to him—to everyone. A big, dumb girl who knew nothing but how to fight, how to intimidate people, someone who had no future because she couldn't resist dipping her toe into the pool of crime. And that was all I would ever be. Arnold didn't regret his words from yesterday. No wonder he hadn't connected the dots—he never would. Arnold would never realise that the girl he was apparently in love with was me.

Because he would never see me like that.

"So, that's it then?" I finally asked, voice heavy. "You're just going to try to find this girl?"

"Yes."

I looked back up and felt my stomach twist at the lack of remorse in his face. Arnold's eyes were hard, burning like fiery shades of emerald, and his lips curled in a tight grimace. He was so close to me, practically leaning over my body, and the memories washed over me. Our positions had been switched last night, he had been the one with the ridiculous crush, and I had been the one to stand over him. It was a reminder that, although Blue Jay may hold all the power in her life, someone was always holding it over me.

And just like that, all those feelings I'd kept buried with the roots were suddenly rising to the surface. Not just the ones over the years, but the recent ones—the ones from the past month. Everything I'd been forced to hold tight to my chest, keeping it close like a large breath, was rising. The memories that had submerged were rising, one after the after, from the gutter. They were climbing higher and higher until I was drowning in an ocean of gloom.

I could recall how my body jarred with each blow, how the pain had seared through to my skin, how every ounce of safety had been stolen from me. The memories filled me like a venom, sinking through to my bones like frost. I had gone through so much and the entire time, I had to keep my mouth shut. I had Lila now, but there was still a weight on my shoulders. Lila was still learning; she was quick, but there were still things she didn't understand, and with her ankle still injured, I was back to being the sole defender again.

That weight had never left, it hadn't even lightened, it slammed down on my arms like bricks. It was so great that my knees were buckling, ready to snap, as I struggled to carry everything.

I had to keep going through all of that with my mouth shut. And through it all, Arnold's face had been the vision I'd kept pinned in my mind. He was the inspiration, the reason I kept getting back to my feet, the reason why I kept fighting.

And now look at him.

I laughed, low and without any humour. "God, and you say I'm the immature one?"

Faces turned in our direction and I realised that my voice was getting louder.

"Could you keep your voice down?" Arnold hissed, looking around at our new audience.

"No, I'm not going to keep my voice down!" I snapped. "If you're so bloody proud of it, might as well shout it from the rooftops, right?!"

My voice was the only noise in this bus, save for the engine. I was more then sure that Pete had lowered the radio so he could hear what was happening. Lila's eyes were wide, hand covering her mouth, while Gerald munched on his chips like he was in a movie theatre. And when Arnold turned back to me, his eyes were narrowed, flashing with both surprise and anger.

"You just think you're so high and mighty, don't you, football head? That because the sun practically shines from your ass, everything you choose to do is right! That everything will magically work out in the end! That because your intentions are always good, that should excuse when something blows up in your face!" I gripped the handlebars tight. "Well, news fucking flash, Arnoldo, that's not how it works. Poor decisions are still poor decisions and you're liable to them as the rest of us are!"

The words I was firing were practically spat from my teeth, carved from flames. But the hotter they grew, the colder Arnold's eyes became. I watched as his face slowly morphed into a mask, the emotions sinking with every passing second. He stared straight at me, brows frozen together, and slightly rose his chin. He kept looking down on me, like what I was saying wasn't even affecting him, and it made me even angrier. I couldn't tell if it was real, or if he was pretending not to be affected, but I suddenly wanted my words to hurt him, I wanted to see them having some type of effect on him.

"And I dunno if you noticed but your choices surrounding her tend to blow up in your face! Remember George?" And I knew that instantly, from the look in his eyes, my words had hit their mark. "He could've gotten hurt or worse. All of you guys could've! Now you're willingly going out to seek more danger to find her? When are you going to get it that your actions have consequences?!"

It was a low blow, using George like that, but I didn't care. The fact that Arnold could keep his face blank the entire time made my anger burn brighter. I wanted to hurt him like he kept hurting me. It was only a fraction of the hurt I'd collected over the years, but it was something.

The bus suddenly jerked to a screeching stop and I almost tumbled backwards, but an arm wrapped around my waist and I was suddenly pulled to a chest.

Silence fell over us.

But it was different from before, tense. Everyone watched with such intrigue that the moment became a held breath. Arnold had his arms wrapped around my waist and in the whirlwind, my hands had found his chest.

Light sprawled over us from the windows and our shadows twisted sharp against the walls. I could feel my hair rush around my shoulders from the movement. I hadn't had time to tie it up today and so, as it flew, sunlight spun in the strands. Arnold had had a bewildered look on his face but suddenly, that action had made something in his expression dilate.

I expected him to push me away; I had fallen, and he had caught me, no need to make a big deal about it. But he stayed like this, not making any indications to move from this position, and I couldn't find it within myself to do that either. I couldn't, not with him looking like this. Like he was seeing something for the first time.

Memories from last night slipped over me. We had been in a position like this where he had caught me from falling. He had become silent like this, even looked at me, in a way, similarly to this. But it was different. He seemed even more quiet right now. And I was shorter than him; it didn't escape my notice that I was the perfect size for him to hold close and tuck beneath his chin.

And . . .

I glanced at my hands.

One was pressed to his chest but the other hung closer to his neck. I could feel his pulse even through his layers. It had spiked; not at an alarming rate, but faster then what it had been before. His skin was hot beneath mine. It made my own heart race wild. My eyes went from his chest—the rising and falling motions—to his neck. It was centimetres from my index fingers and had become tense. But the minute I had looked, I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed.

I don't know what possessed me, but I moved my finger—slid it a short distance so that it was pressed to the bottom of his throat. The movement made his heart pump fast so that it was smacking against my skin. I was expecting him to recoil from my touch and shove me away. But he merely stilled. The skin beneath my palm became warmer. His fingers pressed deeper into my waist. And his gaze became heavier.

I rose my eyes before I could stop myself. I didn't know how to describe his expression, it had both softened and yet, tripled in its weight. He looked from my face to my hair and then back to his face. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing made it out. Hs golden locks—now dry—flopped over his forehead and moved from my breath. I wanted to brush them away and curve my palm against his cheek. He had freckles on his nose. I wanted to draw constellations from them. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and close the distance between our chests. I wanted to hold onto him until the memories had sweetened and then numbed, so they wouldn't hurt anymore.

But I couldn't.

Because they still hurt.

I was still hurt.

My heart was frantic and begged for me to stay close and bask in his warmth. But every other part of me was done. Lila had asked me to think my actions through before doing anything drastic, but I was fresh out of passes.

I shoved against Arnold's chest so that we were standing separate again. I basked in the surprised, slightly hurt, look that he gave me, and then spun around to stomp down the aisle. People snapped from their intrigue to hop out of my way. Stares bored into my back—one heavier than the others—but I couldn't give less then two shits.

Even Pete seemed scared of me.

"Helga, wait!"

I'd stepped off from the bus when I heard Lila's voice.

I turned around, expecting to see her, but found Arnold instead.

His face was red, but his eyes hard. He marched off the bus and then straight past without looking at me once. And it pissed me off. The fact that he was the one who got to storm off on me because I had decided to stay back for Lila was absolutely maddening.

When she and Gerald had managed to reach me, I released a strangled noise before storming off wordlessly in another direction.

I could hear Lila calling for me, but her voice grew more and more distant. Thankfully, she didn't follow me this time. I didn't know if she was pulled off by Gerald to follow after Arnold or if she could tell that I simply didn't want to talk, but I was grateful. I didn't want to be lectured about how I should've thought something else through, or I shouldn't have yelled at him in front of everyone or whatever. Because Arnold had started it—he'd been the one to dish out the insults first.

And besides how was I in the wrong? He was the one going out to find Blue Jay even after Lila and I had told him not to. It fucking hurt that he was ignoring what we—I was saying to him. It felt like he was going behind my back which was ridiculous because we weren't even close, it shouldn't matter. None of this should've. It didn't matter what he thought of me.

But it still hurt.

My fingers were shaking and pink when I yanked open my locker. The metal squeaked and a loud noise echoed when the door banged against the other lockers. Some people peeked in my direction, but I focused on my attention on the books in my locker.

My vision had misted over, blurring to the point that I couldn't tell any of the books apart. I could only see irregular shapes standing next to one another and the bright spine of my latest library book.

I clenched my jaw and took the books that somewhat resembled my textbooks before slamming the door shut. There was still a tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe and I hugged the books close. Trust me to make a big deal out of nothing. What Arnold did was none of my concern anymore. We had never been friends and never would be.

I sighed, accepting the truth, and turned around to head for my next class.

"Helga!"

"GAH!" I screeched and fell back, slamming against my locker. "Jesus, Pheebs—"

"Helga Geraldine Pataki," Phoebe had sparkles in her eyes as she stepped close, oblivious to my near death experience. "You will never guess what has happened to me within the past twenty four hours."

Rubbing the throbbing in the back of my head, I looked down at her. She had shoved her hair back with a navy blue hairband, revealing the face she often tried to hide. The smile she wore was big and shaky, a Cheshire cat smile, like she could barely contain herself. Her dark eyes were dazzling like obsidian and drilled hard into mine. She was wearing the same jumper from last night, and faintly I wondered if Gerald was letting her keep it.

"Um," I smiled nervously. "What?"

"I—" she suddenly looked around, eyes glinted with suspicion, then dropped her voice to an excited whisper. "I met Blue Jay. The Blue Jay."

"Oh," I said without thinking and felt my shoulders sink. But Phoebe's mouth dropped and I realised that that wasn't exactly the most encouraging or hell, normal response to give. My best friend had, after all, just told me she'd met a real life superhero.

"I mean, oh!" I quickly added, lifting my mouth into what hopefully was a convincing smile. "Wow, uhh—criminy, really? The Blue Jay?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said slowly, and her eyes darkened, the sparkle dulling. A swarm of guilt curled in my throat. "It was—well, super."

I tried rectifying the situation.

"Oh, well, uhh, how'd you meet her?"

Phoebe launched into an explanation, voice growing more and more passionate as she spoke. And at first, I was listening; I nodded my head, said 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the right moments. But my mind kept wandering, especially when she mentioned Blue Jay's behaviour with Arnold, and soon I was deep in my own thoughts.

I felt awful for not listening, but it was hard to keep up this pretence. To act like I had no idea when I really did. It was exhausting on a regular basis—coming up with the right reactions within the span of a few seconds. It had to be the exact amount of casual and emotional, too much made you look either stiff or over the top. It was already exhausting on the daily but add in everything that had happened within the past twenty four hours, and it left me feeling very empty.

Everything in me swarmed, so thick and powerful that they began to cancel each other out. The achiness in my stomach faded and the tightness in my chest numbed. It was like I was being filled with lead, something so heavy and cold that it dragged me down to the bottom of the ocean.

"—better way of celebrating then stuffing our body with cold beverages stocked with calories that will no doubt have long term effects on our blood vessels?"

I blinked, coming back to the conversation. "Um, wait, what?"

Her sparse brows pushed together in a frown. ". . . Milkshakes."

"Wait, why are we getting milkshakes."

"Well, I—to celebrate, of course," she said slowly, then her lips curled downwards as she gave me a once over. "You were nodding before . . ."

Oh, shit.

I cleared my throat, clogged with salvia, and shifted my weight.

"Oh, right, um, celebrating," I sheepishly chuckled, rubbing my neck. It should've pained me that I had to keep doing this, but it just added to the numbness that sat in my chest. It was like my emotions were separated from me by a clean slate of glass that hung above me. I could feel their weight pressing down on me, could see the effect they were having, but the distance between us was enough that I couldn't feel them. "Well, actually I—"

Helga, Lila! And suddenly Nel's voice cut through me and a shiver jolted down to my heels. You have to come talk with me—now.

Nel? Lila's voice joined mine in confusion. Where are you?

Locker room, was Nel's response. Quickly—hurry. It's important.

I nodded, despite Nel not being able to see it, and tightened my grip around my books. The glass slate left my dazed, but willing to follow her instructions. My shoes squeaked against the floor as I turned and headed in the direction—

"Wait, Helga—" Phoebe's hand wrapped around my elbow and I was swung back around. Her eyes were wide and pointed, face scrunched with anguish. "Where are you going?"

I blinked, the adrenaline coming to a halt.

"Oh, sorry, Pheebs, I—" I shook my head. "I have to go."

I tried leaving but she jerked hard on my elbow.

"Where?" she demanded.

"Ju—bathroom, alright? It's urgent!"

"But Hel—"

"Sorry, Pheebs, I can't hold it any longer!"

And with that, I pulled myself from her grasp and literally ran away.

---

Nel wasn't surprised with my scattered appearance.

The doors zoomed from my hands and banged against the walls with a rattle that ran its way to the roof. It was loud, but Nel hardly seemed shocked and instead remained still, calmly watching me from her spot on the benches. Her tail flicked furiously behind her, like an angry snake, and her hard eyes pressed down on me with the utter most seriousness.

"Nel, what the hell?" I demanded, crossing my arms and approaching her bench. The locker room was empty, as expected, and rung with its silence. The air was heavy, like someone had stuffed a sock over my mouth and nose, and there was a distinct linger of B.O. that made my nose wrinkle. "I was in the middle of a—"

"Helga, listen to me and listen good," Nel interrupted with such a force that I snapped my mouth shut. "There's a wraith in the school."

I gaped. "What?!"

Nel narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth when Lila suddenly burst in from behind me. The doors slammed against the walls with a force slightly stronger than mine, and I spun around to examine her. Lila's face matched her hair and a light beading of sweat decorated her forehead.

"I—I'm here," she panted and bent over her knees to catch her breath. "I'm here and . . . exhausted."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't your power to literally run?"

She stuck out her tongue.

"Nel says there's a wraith in the school, by the way," I added casually. The numbness that was filling me was like a syrup, and it became hard to grasp the situation for what it was.

"What—where?!"

"Close. And it's powerful," Nel's voice was low and when we faced her, it was the most serious I'd seen her. I couldn't blame her; wraiths on their own were difficult but add in the fact that one was apparently at school, and we had ourselves a whole new batch of I'm fucked–ery. "I've got a mission for you, Helga."

I frowned and stepped back. "What, me? Why can't Lila take it this time?"

"Because Lila's still healing from her sprain." Nel responded, eyes slightly twitching. "Which would've healed by now had you both not going out without a rational reason."

"That was her idea!" I exclaimed and pointed at Lila.

But the black cat levelled an unamused glare on me. It was the type that she reserved for when a situation was truly serious, one that she didn't have the patience to joke around about—more then usual, anyway. I sighed, dropping my hand, and knowing there wasn't any point. If I wasn't plagued with this burning numbness, I probably would've fought her harder on this. But, as it is, there was a silence in my chest, one that brought a chill to my blood, and I couldn't bring myself to fully care.

"Fine. What do I have to do?"

---

Oh.

Oh, hell no.

"Nope. No way." I shook my head and turned back to the group. Lila raised her eyebrows with surprise at my fast decline, but Nel remained unchanged and glared up at me. "I'm not taking up dancing. No—no. What am I, a sissy?"

Nel seemed tempted to say something about that, but unfortunately for her, we were out in the open. The three of us were pressed against a wall, peering around the corner down a hallway that lead to the dance studio.

Ugh.

Dance studio.

According to Nel, she had sensed major bad juju behind these doors. She didn't know where specifically inside it was coming from, whether it was a student or a teacher or even an object, but that I needed to find that out and handle the matter.

How, you ask?

By joining the dance team.

Temporarily, of course.

Not that I was do it. As I said, I was no sissy.

"C'mon, Helga," Lila pleaded and clasped her hands together in a prayer formation. She had tied her hair back into a tight ponytail—who even knows where she had found the hair tie—and wrapped the arms of her sweater around her waist. "This is a matter of life and death—literally."

I glowered at her. Not one part of me wanted to do this. I hadn't danced in front of anyone in years. The thought made me want to throw up. Sure, I enjoyed dancing, but in front of other people was a whole other ballpark I wanted nothing to do with. Send me back to the battlefields any day.

"Can't we draw straws?" I tried again, but this time, I received two very disappointed glares. I groaned and spun around on my heels. "Ugh, okay—fine!"

I caught the victorious grins they sent each other before I marched around the corner and down the hallway for the pair of doors. They were cream–toned with silver handles that surprisingly gleamed. Actually, this whole section—the west section of the school, basically the arts part—was much cleaner than the rest of the school. The walls were further apart, giving this place a summery feel, and the air actually felt lighter and warm.

Weird.

I didn't bother knocking and just pushed open the doors. I was immediately blinded by sunlight that hit me square in the face. I stopped, shoes squeaking against the wooden boards, and held up a hand to block the sun out from my face.

"Oi, I—" I stopped when someone suddenly stepped in front of me, blocking out the light. They stood like a shadow, the golden glare folding around them, and had an extremely intimidating posture. But still, I could see the marble glare carved into their face and gulped, the words abandoning me. "Um, I—hi."

---

"Hey."

A knot leapt into my throat and I jumped, spinning around toward the sudden voice.

"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on ya," she chuckled, holding up her hands with a small smirk.

I blinked, somewhat surprised that she would approach me.

"I—" the salvia was a thick spread on my tongue. "Savannah, what're you doing?"

Her pink lips stretched wide into a teasing grin as she tugged up her bag, wrinkling her shirt like paper.

"We share the same class, dummy," she shook her head. "Figured we could walk together."

I stared at her.

Her long, bronze hair was pulled back into two braids, running over her shoulders like spindly ropes, and her bangs hung above her brows. Her lips were pulled into a friendly smile, slightly higher on the right side, but it didn't reach her eyes, which seemed slightly shadowed.

"I, um—" I cleared my throat and wrapped my fingers around my bag straps. The hallways were full of chatter as students moved around us to get to their third class. But it all felt so far away, like they were apart of a different world. "Yeah, sure."

The smirk seemed a touch more genuine when I said that and she nodded, joining me by my side and falling in sync with my steps. She was shorter than me, but she seemed to have no problem keeping up with me.

I gulped, looking down. I didn't know if it was just me, but our footsteps sounded louder then usual. The thuds echoed in my mind, adjusting in time with my heart beats.

"So, how was the report?" Savannah suddenly asked and looked over at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. "For the dissection, I mean."

"Erm, it—good," I said, forgetting how words worked. "We handed it in and everything and now are just waiting for the results. Um, how about you? Everything good with Biker Patty?"

"Yeah, surprisingly," she then raised both her eyebrows, a glint now in her eyes. "She actually was the one to organise the meetup, which was . . . surprising. Dunno what gave her the change of heart, but it was very much appreciated."

I nodded, although I wasn't actually listening. It was just so surprising to be talking with Savannah again. She hadn't spoken or even looked at me since that afternoon Lila and I fought. Sure, I'd seen her yesterday, when she had handed Lila the ice pack, but she had barely even glanced at me then either. I had kinda accepted that she, like Arnold and Gerald, wanted to dissociate from me after that. It had hurt, but I didn't find it fair to blame her. I wouldn't have wanted to talk with me either. Especially gathering how close the two girls were to each other.

So, the fact that she was now speaking with me, without even mentioning the incident, was a little startling.

"So," she said, slightly louder then before. "Did, um . . . you receive any letters or anything?"

"Huh?" I blinked, slightly frowning with confusion, and she dropped her gaze with a rosy blush. "Erm, no? Should I have?"

Who even sent letters nowadays anyway?

Savannah's cheeks grew darker and she snaked a hand behind her neck, rubbing her skin.

"Erm, no reason," she suddenly looked up with a forced beam, mixed with an awkward sounding laughter. "Anyway, we should head to class, wouldn't wanna be late—"

"Savannah, what are you talking about?" I grabbed her arm and gently forced her to stop. She blinked, turning back to me, and I titled my head. "What letter? And why are you even talking to me? I thought you'd be mad. For th—that thing between Lila and I."

"Oh, um," she blinked and shuffled, fiddling with her bag strap, then looked to her feet. "Well, um, to answer your second question—yeah, I was angry at you. Actually, I was pretty mad, now that I think about it. I mean, I dunno what was up with you, but it was pretty harsh, y'know?"

"Yeah, I . . ." I hesitated and looked down, feeling my chest twist painfully. "I know. It was an asshole thing for me to do."

"I mean, that's not wrong, but I figured it wasn't fair for me to be so angry at you when I didn't know the full picture, especially since Lila's already forgiven you," she quickly added and when I looked up again, she was waving her hands around sheepishly. "Plus, the boys seemed to be okay with you. Well, Gerald anyway. Which is kinda surprising, considering he's . . . well, you know."

"Yeah," I found myself smiling at her, which made her release a relieved breath.

"And to answer your first question, I . . ." her eyes darted away, and she twisted her lips together. A troubled expression covered her face and she tugged on her sweater sleeves. "Well, I had U.S. History with Arnold yesterday, I—he . . . apparently you guys are fighting?"

A heaviness sank in my chest, cracks spreading over the glass slate. She said it so earnestly and a coldness snapped through me and I looked away, swallowing.

"Yeah, um, I guess," I murmured and shoved my hands into my pockets. "He's just . . . pissed me off."

Two periods had passed since the fight on the bus and the numbness was beginning to wear down. It used to spread through me like a fog, soaking up any potential heart wrenching feelings so I wouldn't have to bother myself with them. But as time passed, it gradually got weaker and weaker, until I was left with a thin layer of glass around my heart, ready to smash at the slightest amount of pressure.

I'd hid myself from Arnold; we hadn't run into each other yet, but I was determined not to run into him. I was still angry at him, but I also couldn't bare to see him after the way he had looked at me before. I hadn't seen him that angry, or even that hurt, in years, and to think that I had been the one to cause it . . .

"Yeah, I figured," Savannah nodded with a strange look in her eyes. "Cause he—I overheard him with Sid and he . . . he seemed kinda regretful. Apparently, he said some stuff and didn't know how to handle any of it. I told him that if he had stuff he wanted to get out, he should write it all down. Like, as in, a letter."

My eyes snapped back to Savannah.

"Um, he wasn't supposed to give it to you or anything, it was more to get his feelings out so he could approach you with a clearer mind," she quickly supplied, waving her hands. But when she saw my features slightly settle, the fire dying behind my eyes, her shoulders slightly drooped and lips stretched into a small smile. "He seemed pretty guilty about whatever he'd said. Spent the whole class writing down his thoughts and when I approached him, said he wanted to give you the letter instead. Said it was way more articulate. Kinda against the philosophy, but it—I dunno, I kinda expected to run into you a little happier. But you . . . don't seem to be?"

The air sunk from my chest and my gaze fell back to my shoes. Her words spun like storms in my mind, each one sinking lower with different meanings as I replayed them over and over again.

Arnold had . . . written me a letter?

Then, I remembered that paper from last night—the torn sheet he had almost handed over to Blue Jay. He had seemed so hesitant, gazing down at the scribbles I hadn't deciphered. The realisation shattered the glass around my heart as a hammering pulsed through my body, pushing a golden feeling to the tips of my fingers.

"Oop—I'm sorry if that seemed kinda blunt," Savannah said and when I looked at her, she seemed torn at the possibility that she may have offended me. "It's not that you can't be happy without him—of course you can. I mean, who needs men, right? Sure, this one is cute and all, but he—"

"You like him, don't you?"

The words were out without my permission and before I could apologise for them, Savannah froze.

"Erm, I—yes? Kinda?" Guilt twisted in her eyes and she looked down again, strands falling around he face. "I mean, I used to have the biggest crush on him, but it's . . . kinda been on and off recently."

But when she said that, she had a weird look on her face and her voice slightly softened, reminding me of butterscotch. It wasn't a shock what she said though, it had always been obvious that Savannah held a torch for Arnold, but it still made my lungs seize. I didn't know what possessed me to ask that but I had done it without thinking. I was still mad at Arnold—letter or no letter—but that couldn't erase my own complicated feelings towards him. And hearing Savannah confirm this set it in place that things wouldn't always be like this. He wouldn't always be on his own, arms empty, and free for me to watch from the other side of the hallway. One day, a girl was gonna steal his heart, slide her arms around him and leave with him, and I would be left behind on the sidelines.

Because yes, I had a new life as Blue Jay and people who would stay by my side, but that didn't cover up the longing. That yearning that had settled in my heart for years now.

But was to say it was even fair to feel this way? Lila was on the team now, but it was still the two of us verses an army. Nel said we had a few months before Acantha truly unleashed everything, but I sometimes doubted that. Sometimes, when I pictured my future, all I saw was more fighting, like we would be stuck in this loop for years and years.

I could talk Savannah out of this—whatever it was—right now, but what was the point? I was still going out every night, fighting Mutants over and over and over again. Even if Arnold actually had feelings for me, keeping him to myself wouldn't be fair, I didn't have time to dedicate to someone else like that.

"Well, you have nothing to worry about," I told Savannah instead, and forced a small smile. "I'm not about to do anything soon."

She softly gasped and looked back to me. Her eyes darted across my face, as if she was determining whether I was joking or not, then her lips parted. I didn't know what she saw, but I meant every word I had no intention of overstepping any boundaries with Arnold. He'd made it clear years ago that he didn't see me like that and I was still plagued with so much in my own life.

And that aside, it was hard to look at him how I once had. I used to watch Arnold with stars putting him up on a podium that was so much taller than anyone else's. The crimson glasses had become fixed to my face and all I could see when I looked at him was a being that could do no wrong. Someone carved from all the goodness in the world.

He was my angel.

But now, after I'd heard those words come from his mouth, the glasses had been ripped from my eyes. It wasn't fair but seeing how capable he was of hurting someone else, it made me see him differently. My feelings were still strong, but disappointment was now apart of them.

Savannah clucked her tongue. "That's kinda surprising, considering you've been in love with him for, like, forever." She meant nothing by it, but it still slightly stung, and I ducked my eyes. "Ah—shit, sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine, I just . . ." I exhaled against the tightness plaguing my chest and forced another smile. "If you want to go for him, you shouldn't bother yourself with me. He's a person, not a possession."

She watched me, eyebrows slightly drawn, and I could feel myself redden underneath her scrutinising gaze. But I didn't let myself look away. It obviously would hurt, but I'd feel awful if I stood in the way of Arnold or Savannah finding happiness. Savannah was obviously a very pretty girl and I personally liked her. Arnold would be crazy to reject someone like her.

She then shrugged and grinned, one that actually reached her eyes. "Thanks, but I don't think I will either. Like I said, my feelings are kinda all over the place," she said with a slight nod. Relief swept over me at the glimmer in her eyes and I couldn't help gratefully smiling. "Besides, Lila would probably bite my head off if she found out I went behind her back to confess to him. She ships you two hard, man."

"I know," I groaned, pinching my nose. "It's annoying."

The left corner of her mouth curled, a lightness bubbling in her eyes. "Hey, it's cute," she lightly scowled. "Besides, she's not wrong, you two would make a good couple."

She then laughed at the look on my face.

"Savanahhhh."

She laughed harder, clapping her hands together, and like that, the tautness had melted from the air. I hadn't realised that the air had felt like a held breath, but now that she was laughing, it could finally release that breath. The relief crept over me and I couldn't help laughing with her, a warmth burning in my chest.

"C'mon," she gestured down the empty hallway. "Let's go."

And for some reason, when I looked back to her, a weight lifted from my shoulders. Not because of what she had said about Arnold, but because it felt like I'd just made a new friend. One that wasn't connected to the Guardian business, or my complicated past. One that could look at me now and decided she was okay with what she saw.

And there was something in Savannah's smile—a warmth, a softness—that I couldn't pass up. It reminded me why I was fighting, why I kept putting on that mask.

It reminded me why I was Blue Jay.

"Bet I can beat you there, Lester."

"Hey, no fair! You started without a countdown!"

A smile stained my lips. "Excuses, excuses!"

---

Alarm crept up like a hot flush.

It moved beneath my skin and wrapped around my throat like a chokehold. The air that escaped me were small, short gasps, yet nothing was moving past my teeth.

I didn't know how long my hand had been wrapped around the door handle, but it had felt like hours. The handle was sleek, wet from my sweat, and my fingers buzzed. Both doors seemed so much larger than this morning. They stretched higher and higher as the seconds ticked and I couldn't tell if it was because they were growing taller or I smaller.

The giggles that came from behind the doors twisted like knives. They were high pitched and feminine, overlapping with one another. For some reason, hearing them made me want to turn and run into the night, which was ridiculous. I'd fought Mutants, Wraiths and Serec—all of which had almost killed me. Yet it was this harmless laughter that had my heart racing like a pair of rabbit feet.

A strain crept into my stomach, pushing the remaining air out of me. Criminy, why was I making such a big deal out of this? They were just girls. There was nothing they could do to me.

"There's a wraith in the school"

They could be in danger. There was something in that room and I needed to find it. The quicker I got in and did that, the quicker I could turn around and never come back again. The plan was easy—simple.

It would be if you weren't so—

I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes, shutting off that part of my mind. I needed to just block that voice out, think of something else, something that was fresh, easy to imagine. But what? The only time I felt confident was when I was Blue Jay, activating my superpowers.

Wait . . .

I then began filling my mind with the reminiscence of that feeling; I pretended that tight feeling around my throat was anticipation. I pretended that numbness in my fingers were warm sparks forming into beautiful barriers. And I pretended the ache deep in my chest was that bright flickering gleamed just before the magic appeared.

And, like that, the nerves began to die down, like a barrier had lifted from my skin and shoved them from my skin. It reminded me of that glass slate; I could feel those emotions still happening, but a numbness was clawing over my brain, so it no longer affected me.

My eyes opened.

Hurry up.

I pushed down on the handle, shoving the door open, and forced myself in. The air was warm but fresh and my feet echoed against the wooden boards. Dozens of new eyes suddenly snapped in my direction and I froze, the breath halting in my chest. The chatter and laughter vanished, and I was doused in a silence that ran over me like pepper.

The girls were sprinkled around the room and held onto the wooden bar against the mirror. They were in their own groups, dressed in clothing that moulded against their bodies. Their hair was pulled back in various styles, mostly braids and tall ponytails.

My ribs turned to rope when their eyes flickered to my attire. My cheeks seared and I also looked down. I wasn't wearing clothes like theirs; instead, it was my usual stained hoodie and a pair of jeans I'd found in the lost and found at the office. There were holes at the knees and I had to rolled up the ankles just so they wouldn't swallow my feet.

I'd wanted to come wearing something else, but these were all I could find. This mission had been so sudden that I didn't have the time to get anything else. Lila had offered to quickly pick something up from the store, but I'd declined, telling her that there wouldn't be enough time, and it isn't like I was actually hear for the lessons. Besides, I wasn't coming back after this. I just needed to get in, find the Wraith, then leave—I'd probably never even see these girls again.

"Helga?"

The voice surprised me and when I looked, my jaw dropped at the face that stared back at me.

"You're the new student?" Eugene asked and stepped closer, his expression flabbergasted.

"Uh, yeah," I let out a small hiss, cursing how shaky I sounded. "Y–Yeah, I, um, wanted to give this a shot."

He rose his eyebrows, dumbfounded, and I honestly couldn't tell if it was because of my answer or how nervous I looked. If it was the latter, it was hard to blame him since it was so different to how I usually presented myself. Gone were the confident strides, the scowls and fists and instead, here were stutters, mismatched clothing and an inability to even meet his eyes. Which was ridiculous considering how much shorter he was then me. He pretty much grazed my shoulders and I really had to look down to meet his gaze.

"I never thought I'd see you taking up dancing as a hobby," he said, eyeing my clothes warily.

"Yes, it's strange, isn't it?" I tried brushing it off as a joke, but I was feeling anything but playful, it just sounded really awkward. Eugene paused and looked back at me, and I quickly turned away.

The dance hall was wide spaced, it slightly reminded me of the training room. The vibes were different, obviously, but there was something similar between the two. The girls were lined up against the wooden beams, chatting as their stretched, and their smiles light up against the mirrors behind them.

The walls were white and tall, fluorescent lights spilled across the sandy wooden boards. A window covered the left wall, where a desk was sat, furnished with a snazzy looking stereo system. The sun beamed through the glass, pouring across the floor, and soaked the air with its warmth. There was a mirror that stretched from the main wall to the right and a small beam that cut across it.

Something was beating through me, a shakiness wrapping around my hands, but I forced myself to move. Eugene had already moved to the beam and I followed, standing a couple of feet away from him, and wrapped my fingers around the wood. They were shaking and I eased a shaky breath, looking across my shoulder and seeing that Eugene was stretching. He had pressed his knee to the beam, eyes steady on his reflection, and I decided to copy his movements.

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease the tight cramps, and sucked in another breath. Okay, alright—this would be easy. I'd spent a month in the training room, getting my ass kicked, this was practically a cinch.

"Ms. Pataki, yes?"

My eyes snapped up to my reflection where a pair of brown eyes resided, watching me from over my shoulder. A chill travelled to the tips of my fingers and my body burned as I slowly turned around.

I swallowed. "Um, yes?"

The woman looked no different than this morning when I'd first approached her. She had short, afro – textured hair that rose in short, bronze cords and skin that was rich and smooth like umber. Her eyebrows were sharp and dark, her cheekbones high and shadows, and mouth thick and pink.

This woman didn't teach any of my classes, but I knew who she was.

Ms. Danièle Fournier.

"Svana has spoken much about you," she announced in a voice that was smooth like velvet. Ms. Fournier was a small woman, probably a little taller than Lila, but her presence was large. There was something about the way she carried herself, the way she peered down her nose at you, that gave her an almost saintly appearance.

"Svana?" I repeated, not recognising the name.

"Your English teacher," she answered with a slight nod and crossed her arms. She wore a dark purple tank top and a large pair of black sweatpants, where one leg was rolled up to her knee.

"Oh," I nodded, jittery. "W–What did she say?"

Ms. Fournier simply raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips together.

The words suddenly gathered in my throat, curling into a pulsing ball that wanted to burst. There was something about this woman that made me nervous, like she was scrutinising every detail about me. It might've been her eyes; they were so sharp and dark, flaming shades of mahogany, and struck me with a no nonsense attitude. It was hard to imagine her and Ms. Hartman even talking, let alone being friends.

"What is your history with dance, Ms. Pataki?" she asked instead.

"Um, not much," I answered with a slight shrug. "I once did ballet, but that was years ago."

Eugene paused beside me and looked over his shoulder. It wasn't surprising that that had caught his attention since it wasn't like I had ever advertised I used to do ballet. I was the least likely person you'd expect to move around like that.

Ms. Fournier, on the other hand, hardly seemed impressed. "And is that all?"

"Um," I looked down, unable to meet her burning gaze, and fiddled with the hem of my shirt. "Y–Yes."

She then stopped and I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Her eyes rose back to mine and the breath in me paused at the coolness on her face. It was carved with suspicion, sprawled over with neutrality, but a storm brewed in her eyes. It made me wonder what it was she was seeing.

She then made a noise at the back of her throat and gestured at my jeans.

"This isn't appropriate attire," she pointed out, the corners of her lips turning downwards. "Either tights, leotards or dancer shorts. However, given that this is your first lesson, I'll let you off. But this shouldn't be a repeated mistake, yes?"

She said it so quickly that I was left speechless for a minute. My mind felt far away, trying to catch up with her fast pattern of speaking, when she raised her eyebrows and I snapped back into focus. I jerked my head in what I hoped was a nod and she pressed her lips together, spinning around and leaving without another word.

Her hands wrapped around her elbows as she moved across the room for her desk stacked against the window. It had an open laptop and several CD's with bright covers that I didn't recognise. The laptop was connected to the stereo by a thin black cord.

But with Ms. Fournier far away, I released a breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding and leaned back against the beam.

"Is she always like that?" I asked Eugene, who watched me somewhat sympathetically, which was surprising.

"Kinda?" he shrugged and attempted a smile.

A clap echoed sharp in the air and all our head snapped back to Ms. Fournier, who then announced we would be beginning our stretches. My heartbeat became frantic and it barely registered that everyone had moved down to the ground until Eugene cleared his throat at me. I blushed, realising they'd been waiting, and quickly dropped down next to him.

My muscles were tight as we stretched and I quickly realised the reason why jeans weren't apart of the acquired uniform. They were so unbreathable; it was hard to get into certain positions and several times the pants rolled over my feet. I tried reigning myself back in, thinking back to the wraith, but I realised that I actually had no idea what it was I was even looking for. I'd only encountered a Wraith once, which admittedly had been a weak one, and this studio didn't feel anything like the library. It wasn't cold and the girls didn't have bruise–like shadows beneath their eyes—it actually seemed normal in here.

The warm air pressed against my face like palms. It should've been nice, but it had the opposite effect on me. This either meant I had no idea what to be alert for or that the Wraith was better at masking itself then I'd been expecting.

Eventually, Ms. Fournier got to her feet, announcing an end to our stretching, and headed for her laptop.

"I trust you have noticed we have a new face amongst us," she announced, not looking up from the screen and sitting on the edge of her desk.

My face burned when I found myself the centre of attention again. Each of the girls—there had to be more then fifteen—had turned in my direction and I ducked my head, cursing Ms. Fournier's apparent lack of comprehension.

"Let's introduce her to one of my favourite games," she said, mouth lifting into a small smile. "Improvisation."

The girls all turned to each other and gushed with excitement. I let out a breath, relieved that they were no longer staring at me. Eugene chuckled and rose to his feet, dusting off his pants, and I followed.

"Chloe," Ms. Fournier gestured to another dark skinned girl. The girl's hair was pulled into a tight bun at the top of her hair and some small curls escaped their confines. She wore a dusky purple shirt with sleeves that cut off at the shoulders and a pair of shorts that revealed toned, dark legs.

She turned around with a smile, and I was slightly taken back by how dazzling it was. She stood taller than her friends, almost appearing like an older sister, and shoved some curls behind her ear. There was something about her that reminded me of Lila; a girl carved from a perfection you could only find deep in poetry books.

"Yes, miss?" she asked, in a light, bubbly voice.

"Song preference?"

I was slightly surprised with how casually Ms. Fournier seemed to address her, but Chloe didn't seem to mind. She tapped the corner of her mouth and looked to the roof for a few moments. "Mmm . . . Lakehouse by Monsters and Men?"

The girls voiced their approvals, passing smiles to one another, and Ms. Fournier nodded. "Excellent choice, Chloe."

She gave a final tap to her keyboard and an acoustic sounding song sudden poured out from the speakers. The sound travelled through the room, a fresh melody that reminded me of the summer, flooding my mind with pictures of bumblebees and beaches. The guitar was strumming crisply, and Ms. Fournier tapped her fingers to the beat. She nodded her head a few times before snapping her fingers at another tall girl with short hazel hair. I was surprised when not an ounce of fear touched her face. She actually beamed with excitement and stepped forward.

Oh, I miss the comfort of this house.
Where we are, where we are.
Where we are, where we are.

The lyrics were soft and voices husky, yet somehow she managed to dance in sync with the moderate paced strumming. She tapped her feet a few times, moving her arms like waves, before shuffling against the floorboards.

The floor under our feet whispers out,
"Come on in, come on in, where it all begins."

She began swinging her hands more wildly and her feet adopted a complicated shuffling motion. Her hair flopped against her face and when she raised her hands, her shirt rose and revealed the firmness in her stomach. I was surprised when the surrounding girls started clapping to the beat of the song, calling out her name and cheering when she wiggled her waist.

Can you chase the fire away?
Can you chase the fire away?

Her movements became wilder, like she'd been holding back before. She swung around on one foot, kicking her leg high and straight, and her friends whooped in delighted. She laughed, shoving her hair back from her face, then pointed to another girl.

This one was blonde, and her hair was pulled back into a small bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a small black sports bra and matching leggings. Again, she showed no fear in being picked and actually moved closer to the middle of the room.

We climbed up to the top in worn-out shoes,
But she ran down, she ran down

This girl's movements were more seductive. She thrusted her hips to the man's vocals and swung her arms around her torso. The surrounding girls all cheered, encouraging her to keep going, and she grinned. She spun around, hair flying around her like sunshine, and rolled her body to the music.

She ran down to the house.
A fox that gains our trust

The girls were clapping as she passed it to another, then another, and I eventually looked around at the rest of the class. Smiles lit up across their faces as they cheered and clapped. I pressed my lips together. I was here to find that Wraith and this was the perfect setting. Everyone was giving it their all, trying to impress their friends and Ms. Fournier. Now was the perfect time to drain away their energy.

I wrapped my arms around my waist and slid back a couple of steps. The girls were moving closer to the centre of the room, standing close, and shouted encouragement or the occasional lewd jokes. I couldn't sense anything as I watched them; not a drop of coldness touched me.

My eyes then landed on Chloe, who was now the one dancing. That smile was still there while her body reminded me of a silky metal. Her movements were a perfect blend of fluidity and sharpness, reminding me of a silver strike of water, while her feet were quick like lightning.

Where we are, where we are
We sleep all day
Where we are, where we are

She kicked up her right leg and I felt my jaw drop as she held it arrow straight against her shoulder. I'd seen pictures of people—professionals—doing that, but never had I witnessed it in real life. Hell, even as Blue Jay I couldn't do something like that. It made me realise that Chloe wasn't just the type to carry herself like she was the shit, she really was the shit.

She threw back her head and slammed her leg down, toes remaining pointed against the floorboards. People moved out of her way as she spun on her toes then leapt into the air. Her face remained firm, fierce, as her legs flexed out and she sailed across the room. And when she landed, it was with a thud! and a few inches in front of me.

I gasped, reeling back, and smacked my head against the mirrors.

Where we are, where we are
We sleep all day
Where we are, where we are

Her eyes rose up to mine through her curls and she smirked, a mischievous curl of her lips, before she leaned backwards. My mouth parted when she reached so far back that her palms laid flat against the boards. Her body arched perfectly, somewhat resembling a fishing hook, and the loose curls skimmed the floor. An applause greeted her ears and she grinned, pink lips pulling back to reveal a white smile, before rolling onto her knees and looking to the roof.

She finished with a tone of finality and the applause echoed around us like a shattering rain. I couldn't bring myself to move, the shock that spun around my mind prevented me. I didn't know whether it was because of how talented she was, or even because she just seemed so cool.

Her chest was heaving, the breath thick in her mouth, and there was a slight glimmer to her skin. It didn't surprise me, she had danced so fiercely. I didn't know if she had given it her all, but her movements had been so sharp yet controlled, it was more then anything I could've done. The muscles that covered her arms were flexed from how tightly she clenched her fists. I hadn't realised it before, but Chloe actually was pretty well built, and I couldn't help wondering if it had anything to do with her dancing abilities. It wouldn't have shocked me, she was a revolving whirl of sharp precision and absolute grace.

I could understand why Ms. Fournier clearly favoured her.

Chloe then lowered her gaze, eyes glazing over every face surrounding her. My chest seized when she momentarily stopped on me as I for a moment thought she might actually pick me to go after her. Which would be cruel, I hadn't danced properly in ages. There was no way I could go after her. But then she continued on until she got to a certain face and quickly pointed at them.

Where we are, where we are
We sleep all day
Where we are, where we are

I breathed a sigh of relief then turned in the direction Chloe had pointed. I was surprised when Eugene smiled, his face brightening, and turned around, moonwalking his way to the centre of the room. It earnt some neighbouring laughs from the girls and I couldn't stop myself from smiling slightly. I even spotted Ms. Fournier smirking at his antics. Eugene's hands became wild rhythmic gestures that grew more comfortable as the song passed on.

Can you chase the fire away?
Can you chase the fire away?

He then spun in my direction and pointed.

And I froze.

Fuck.

Dozens of faces were lit up with expectant smiles, turning in my direction with gazes that felt like spotlights. They seared through my skin, travelling down my arms to my spine, and crept around the back of my neck I sucked in a breath, eyes flickering down to my feet, but when I looked back up, the room was slumping.

What are you doing—GO.

I moved like someone had shoved me. My heart was hammering as I looked around; I was surrounded by those smiles with glaring smiles glaring straight into my eyes. My body felt weak, like it was nothing more than a slip being controlled by someone else.

I tried moving to the music.

Something roared in my ears and I tried copying the movements I'd seen before. But my mind was flashing way too quickly, I couldn't remember anything.

The music burnt through me like acid, and when I looked up, the smiles were razor sharp. I couldn't see the rest of their features, it was like they had blurred from my mind, and all I could recognise were those grins. They pushed up their face, almost splitting them into two, and revealed sharp rows of vicious teeth. It was like I had entered some type of nightmare.

Someone was calling my name.

I jumped, heart in my throat, and spun around too quickly. I barely even recognised the person's voice before my feet caught with hems and I fell.

Thunk!

The cheers came to a halt, turning into gasps when I slammed against the floorboards. A throbbing sensation swept over my bones but it was lost beneath the sea of mortification. A warmth burst from every pore in my body and I couldn't raise my eyes to meet anyone else's gaze.

The music was switched off and a ringing silence filled the rom. A frantic beating pumped in my throat and it became impossible to breath. My ribs heaved, like steel traps, and my lungs strained to inflate. My head was spinning too quick and all I could see were the floorboards shifting beneath my fingers.

"Ms. Fournier, m–may I, umm," my voice was shaking. "May I be excused?"

I didn't wait for the answer though. I was on my feet the minute those last words left my lips and scrambling for the door. The stares were boring into my neck and I tried outrunning them like they were flames dancing at my heels. My fingers wrapped tight around the handle just as someone called my name. It was the same voice as before, but I ignored them, heaving open the door and throwing myself out.

It slammed shut behind me and I bolted. The nauseous curl crept from my abdomen to my chest then slipped up to my throat. Everything was spinning. The floor felt soft. I could barely breathe. It was like I was floating, and the ground was melting beneath my feet.

You were supposed to find the Wraith.

Snickers rang in my head. The sounds of my shoes against the floor fell away, feeling more and more distant. A part of me wondered whether it was the Wraith; maybe it had sucked me dry of my energy, leaving me empty and sickly. But this feeling didn't feel like last time; I wasn't overcome with a blistering heat as a yellow mist circled around me.

No, this was different. It felt . . . real.

This is your own fault.

My palm rammed into the door and I threw myself into the girl's toilets. I didn't even check if it was empty, I swung into the closest stall, dropped to my knees and heaved into the toilet bowl. Chunks of digested peanut butter and jelly spewed from my mouth into the water. My stomach contracted and forced everything up. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing but an empty pit in my gut. I didn't know how long I was like that—bent over a toilet with my hands wrapped around the bowl—but by the time I'd finished, my face was wet as bile dribbled from my chin.

The air slipped down my throat as I leaned back against the stall. It was cold, feeling like ice, and I shoved my feet across the floor to the other end of the stall. The dizziness was still there, but receding, I could feel it whirling from the tips of my fingers. I didn't trust myself to get up yet and slumped further against the floor. The toilet was full of a brown mushy soup that smelled hot and sour, an odour that was strong and disgusting.

I sucked in small sips of air to settle my stomach, which was still squirming, and let the silence crawl over me. I brushed my fingers against my jeans, trying to remember as many details as I could to settle the dizziness, but when that didn't work, I dug my nails into my legs.

My mind was swirling, and I tried filling it with random details—like how I'd actually managed to get a breakfast at Lila's. It had been a piece of peanut butter toast, prepared by Michael, an action that had surprised me. Lila had even managed to pack twice the amount of food for lunch today so she could half it with me. I'd tried rejecting it, but she was resolute in her decision, something that didn't surprise me anymore. Nel had even joined us for lunch, and the three of us had actually had a conversation that wasn't at all related to Mutants or Guardians.

Lila had sold me out and blabbed about my situation with Arnold.

At the time, I'd been pissed, but now that I was thinking it over, I couldn't help smiling to myself. Lila had been so animated as she struggled to explain my complicated relationship with Arnold, and Nel had sharply gasped at certain points. The two had then turned into two middle aged women, gossiping over my non–existent love life, and both agreed that the both of us needed to communicate rather then this silly game of fire and ice.

Surprisingly, I laughed, the nausea slowly disappearing.

Nel was so strict, mostly restraining herself to topics of serious natures, but seeing her act like that with Lila was kinda hilarious.

I realised that, at this point, it was safe to move again. The air was cool against my face and the floor seemed to be staying still. Slowly, I heaved myself and flushed the toilet then wiped the bile from my mouth with the toilet paper. The paste on my tongue still was thick and I wrinkled my nose, stomach twisting at the strong smell, before chucking the small ball back into the bowl.

I moved towards the sink, avoiding my reflection the whole time, and wrapped my hands around the tap. The water swirled in the bowl, and I washed my face, neck and rinsed my mouth three separate times. Unsurprisingly, it didn't rid me of the awful taste.

"Helga? Are you in there?" someone's muffled voice came from behind the shut door. But before I could say anything, it swung open and in came a frantic–looking Eugene.

I squeaked, spinning around, and slammed back against the sink.

"What the hell are you doing in here, you perve?" I demanded in such a voice that Eugene winced. "This is the girl's bathroom!"

"I know, I—" he suddenly appeared very sheepish, like his actions had just caught up with him, and rubbed the back of his head. "But I was, uhh—you seemed upset."

I was taken back by that. I mean, don't get me wrong, Eugene had always been a nice person, but it wasn't like we had ever had much of a relationship. I used to throw spit balls at him when we were kids but other than that, we mostly stuck to our own lanes. Hell, the only real conversation I'd shared with him had been after I'd saved him as Blue, with a totally different face and circumstances.

So, I couldn't figure out why he seemed so sympathetic towards my situation.

"Pfft, no, I'm not," I lied and leaned back, folding my arms over my chest. "Why would I be upset?"

Stupid question.

"Because you fell," he deadpanned, dropping his hand. "In front of everyone. Then ran out."

I stopped to just stare at him. "Thanks, Eugene."

"You asked!" He said, face growing red with mortification. I rose an eyebrow and he blushed darker, dropping his eyes to his feet, and shuffled his foot. "I'm, uhh, sorry about that though."

"You're sorry?" I repeated, flabbergasted. "Why? What've you got to feel sorry for?"

"I was the one that picked you," he said with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had anxiety."

"Anxiety?" My eyebrows skyrocketed and my heartbeat spiked. "Whoawhoawhoawhoa, buddy, back up. I don't have anxiety—th–that's crazy talk. Psh."

And then I laughed. Well, I forced a laugh. It was awkward sounding and at this point, I was beginning to think that might actually be my regular laugh. But anyway, I forced a laugh and waved dismissively at him. Not that it convinced Eugene in the slightest.

"Really?" he asked flatly, rising an eyebrow. It was the first sassy look I'd seen on him and I almost genuinely started laughing just looking at it. "Because your breathing got pretty loud. And you looked scared."

"Criminy, you could hear that?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, I, uhh," I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks flush. "I don't have anxiety. Just limits."

"Riiight."

The disagreement was all over his face but thankfully, he chose to drop the subject. Eugene looked to his feet and an awkward silence settled over us. I wanted to say something to fill that voice, but I realised just how little I knew about this boy. Sure, I knew a few things—his best friend was Sheena, he apparently loved to dance, and he had an astronomical love for anything Taylor Swift, but other than that, I really didn't know how to start a conversation with him.

I looked away, cursing myself for being awkward. Silence like this always got me—I hated them. They made me feel so powerless. But I had no idea how I was supposed to strike up another conversation, especially if it involved Eugene, someone I had never really known.

"Why did you join?"

Surprised, I looked up. "Pardon?"

His eyes bore into mine and he stepped closer, out of the doorway.

"Why did you join the class?" he repeated, but without an ounce of shyness. I was suddenly struck with how bold his eyes appeared to be, especially considering they were brown. They reminded me of autumn leaves or summer soil, stained with dark sepia swirls. "You seemed really scared and, uhh, I never even knew you liked dancing."

I actually stuttered and settled for looking away, as if that would hide the blush in my cheeks.

"Not many people do," I murmured with a shrug, crossing my arms. "It's something I like to keep to myself."

"Why?"

Again, I shrugged. "Would you still take me seriously if you found out I did ballet?"

"I mean, yeah," he said with a frown of confusion. "It's pretty tough, y'know. One of the hardest sports I've heard of. It's pretty admirable that you were able to do it as a kid."

He meant it sincerely, which was surprising. I'd always been ashamed of that part of me—the one that fancied feminine activities like writing poetry, wearing pink, ballet, or reading romance. Stuff like that was what made people turn my way, point and laugh, so I'd learnt to built up a front that I'd worn fo years now. I didn't want people to perceive me as weak and femininity was often regarded as not only weak, but lame. I may not have wanted to be around many people, but I didn't want them to laugh at my interests.

But I guess expecting Eugene to understand that was counterproductive. He was very in touch with his feminine side and had never been ashamed of that. I remembered often when we were kids, he would volunteer to participate in school plays, especially if they were musicals, and didn't mind playing either a male or female role. Whereas a lot of the boys were tough and active, Eugene had always been soft, with a sensitive soul that made it easier for him to make friends, especially amongst the girls. It sometimes earnt him the side eye, particularly from the boys, but he didn't seem to care and was more bothered with trying to fit in then standing apart. He didn't see any of his interests as weakness but a part of who he was.

I looked away and screwed my lips tight.

It was hard not to admire. I may not have known too much about him, but it was harder for Eugene to proclaim his interests loudly then it had ever been for me. His interests included things like fashion, dancing and deep talks with his friends. It wasn't very well accepted for a boy, but Eugene had never covered up who he truly was.

"Is that why you quit?" he asked quietly when I didn't respond. "Because you wanted to be taken serious? Or because you wanted to intimidate people?"

There was a slight edge that crept into his words. I knew it was in reference to how I used to treat him when we were kids. I hadn't spared Eugene from my bullying and almost aimed for him more than I had everyone else. Well, besides Arnold. I hadn't realised it before but maybe it was because he was so involved in the world of femininity. Because he so unashamed of his interest, while I had hidden mine. I wasn't aiming for him because he was an easy target but because I'd envied how unabashed he was.

I had no intention of answering Eugene, the realisation swirling thick in my mind. And Eugene's expression changed, face melting into something more understanding, as he observed the look on my own face.

"Were you serious about joining the class?"

I jerked my face up. "I, uhh—"

Because truthfully, I wasn't. I had only been there for Guardian business—get in, find the Wraith, defeat it then leave—but when I thought about the class, it wasn't just a ball of shame that hit me. I mean, don't get me wrong, what had happened was humiliating and just the thought left my stomach curdling, but then I thought of Eugene. How he had smiled and thrived in that room, how he had seemed to make everyone grin a little brighter, and a warmth filled me. The kind I had only felt when I was with Lila and Nel.

That class was a community. Sure, it was small, but a community, nonetheless. It was tightknit, full of acceptance and warmth. Not one girl had pointed and laughed when they had seen what I was wearing and they'd all been encouraging as they all danced. I couldn't help reimagining the scenario, imagining if I had been there but not for Guardian business. I imagined the glory that would've filled me if I had gotten through that improvisation, how my body would've curled and twisted to the music. Would that have gotten me over the stage fright, helped me through my fear of how others saw me?

"Yes," I blurted out and was surprised with how genuine that felt. "I–If I can find the time. This was a trial period mostly, but . . . truthfully, that class wasn't too bad."

The words I said were so baffling that for a moment, I thought I'd deceived myself to soften the blow. But the tightness that had once cramped my chest was no longer there.

I . . . I actually believed that. The idea of joining a class—a community that wasn't born from the dangers of night—actually didn't frighten me.

Eugene nodded with a satisfied smile.

"Yeah, it's pretty great," he agreed. "It may seem intimidating, but the girls are really nice. They wouldn't have laughed or made fun of you for not having skills or anything. I mean, look at me—I went after Chloe! She's the best dancer in the class. But I didn't care because everyone has to begin somewhere, both skill and confidence."

He appeared at peace with that conclusion, like it truly didn't bother him that he wasn't the best in the class. And to be honest, he was right. It was undeniable that Chloe was talented, the most skilled in the class, but Eugene's enthusiasm and confidence matched hers perfectly.

"That sounds . . . kinda cool," I admitted.

And when Eugene looked back at me, he scanned my face for a second before grinning. "If you wanted, I could take you to get some actual dance clothes."

I rose my eyebrows. "What?"

"I mean," he hastily added and waved his hands around. "You can't dance in those jeans for the rest of the semester, right? And let's not get started on that ugly hoodie."

I scowled. What was everyone's problem with my hoodie? It may be old, but it was warm and had lasted me many years. But then I thought about his words and softly clucked my tongue.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked him quietly, wrapping my hands around my elbows. "It's not like I was ever nice to you."

He paused.

"No, you weren't," he eventually said with a small shrug. "But I dunno, something seems different about you. You're not the same girl who hurt everyone and started fights. You seem more . . . open. To change, that is. And I find that kinda admirable. Plus, Lila's latched herself onto you so obviously there must be something good about you."

"Um," I blinked. "Thanks, I think?"

He grinned and gestured over his shoulder at the door. "Did you want to come back?"

"No," I gripped the sink and forced a smile. "I think I'll wait around. We could go shopping after though? If you're not busy, that is."

I could barely grasp what was happening. Here I was, in the girl's bathroom where I had just puked my guts out, actually organising to meet up with Eugene to go shopping. Hazard–Prone Horowitz. Dance clothes shopping.

Talk about unexpected.

"That sounds fine," he said with a nod and turned to leave when he paused and glanced at me over his shoulder. "Oh, and Helga?"

My breath stilled. "Yeah?"

He grinned. "Welcome to the team."

---

Annnd that's the first part of this duo done! The first scene was a nightmare, but I loved writing everything else, especially the moment between Helga and Eugene/Savannah. It's so cute that she's opening up to relationships that aren't romantic. Speaking of which, I was surprised with how much people loved the direction of Arnold and Helga's relationship. Obviously, they're end game, but y'all really seemed to like Helga really analysing how she felt towards him. Curious to know how y'all felt about him writing that letter, and everything else he did XD

Oh, and don't worry, this isn't the last we're seeing of Pheebs; she's actually gonna be moving more into the main cast now, so yay! I've finally cracked the code on how to write her character lol.

Also, shoutout to the comment that suggested Chloe being apart of the Guardians. For those who don't know, Chloe is a canon character; she was in Gerald vs Jamie O. I've tweaked her character slightly (like, age wise and everything), but honestly have fallen in love with her. Lemme know what y'all think!

Anyway, onto the reviews:

Kryten: 👀 😇 (real note, I have no idea why it didn't let you review, this site is weird man lol. Thanks for leaving your thoughts anyway though!)

acosta perez jose ramiro: You are 100% right! Arnold is definitely in the wrong for putting her in that position. However, from my perspective, he probably didn't confront Ainsley cause she's scary and also his teacher, and with Rhonda, cause he really doesn't know her. So, possibly going off on her was because he had higher expectations for Helga. That being said, you're right, he wasn't in the right and is putting her in a double standard. And for your note about the transformation thing, I think you're on the right track. I do think Nel would scold Lila like she would Helga if she caught her, but there is a slight more pressure she adds to Helga cause she's closer to Helga then Lila. It's not really fair, but yeah, they've been together longer and she has more faith in Helga slightly more then Lila. And it's totally fine if you wish to speak Spanish in my reviews! As long as you can forgive me for how clunky I'll probably sound, I use google translate I definitely agree with you on that; I think Helga's a darker, angsty version of Usagi, but has the sass and temper of Rei! Thanks for the review!

Guest: Yes, it was so relieving to find out people were actually really accepting of Helga turning away from Arnold for a bit. Arnold definitely has to explain himself better because he clearly doesn't understand the weight to his words. Helga and Lila definitely have my favourite relationship so far and I'm always so eager to write them, Lila's definitely a good balance for Helga. And don't worry, Pheebs is becoming a main in the cast now! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!

Miladyswords: Hey, thank you! The fight was a ball to right, Rhonda and Helga are just so vibrant and full of it! Yes, you are right, I tried not to make it explicit, but yeah, Arnold was actually turned on 😂 Helga's revelation has been something I've bene itching for for literally ages now and I'm so happy everyone's accepting of it. And don't worry, Arnold was in the wrong so he's gonna have to be the one to apologise, and I'm excited cause it switches the dynamics between them. I like your interpretation for the sailor scouts; you're right, Helga doesn't fit one per say, but is definitely a mixture of Sailor Moon and Mars. Lila actually really suits Neptune and Venus and I honestly could see Patty as Jupiter or Uranus, since she's so withdrawn. Thanks for the review though!

Abby: Thank you so much! Yes, the relationships are always changing and I love exploring the different dynamics between everyone! Arnold and Helga are definitely getting more interesting to write now

Thanks a bunch for all the lovely reviews my luvlies! We got more then usual last chapter! I'm eager to hear your thoughts this one, although more technically happens in the next part XD. I'll try to get the second chapter out quicker since it doesn't get as intense, but ya never know with this story! Take care everyone!

Song(s) mentioned: Lakehouse by Of Monsters and Men