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by Weaver, Nicole

The teacher faltered. "I am warning you; your theatrics have already earned you the honor of being last to leave my class, even behind poor Grant...regardless of your answer."

  Expected Heroic maneuver, change the rules to ensure victory. As dick moves go, it is not a bad strategy, but this time I set the rules.

  Opening her eyes wide and filling them with innocence, Samantha responded sweetly. "Of course, Mrs. Dawn. I wouldn't dream of delaying the other students. In fact, I do have an answer to your riddle." She let the silence stretch out to the last few seconds of her time.

  The old woman sighed and gestured for Samantha to continue. "Well Miss Gray, I have nothing to lose by asking. What is broken without being held?"

  Samantha pointed at the white board behind The Monster of Welbore. "I can see it; the answer is right there on the wall."

  Mrs. Dawn glanced briefly behind her, as if to confirm there was nothing there, but Samantha only wanted that split second. Timing is important, but in Villainy, theatrics is everything.

  As the woman broke eye contact, Samantha yelled, "Hey Yoda, the answer is your ass!" She scattered the contents of the heavy pouch across the floor and made a swift escape through the open door behind her.

  Nearly everyone had looked at the board with Mrs. Dawn, and no one recovered fast enough to interfere with her flight, exactly as she'd planned.

  Left behind, the teacher's jaw worked as she stared after the running girl, a few thousand metal bb's spreading across the hard-tiled floor around her.

  Chapter 2

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Making a beeline for the exit, Samantha stopped by her locker to dump everything into her now-empty backpack, then walked outside past the rows of posters. They were filled with pretty standard warnings about surviving a Daemon attack and where to go for shelter. Boring stuff compared to the more common Prime fights. She hurried her steps. Better to be safely on the bus in case Mrs. Dawn tried for a final session of detention.

  A crowd of students milled around the line of yellow buses, anxious to escape the horrors of Wellbore High. Samantha's bus was near the middle, and half full already. The front rows closest to the bus driver were densely packed, while the seats in back barely held one soon to be ex-student each.

  Few recognized the bounce in Samantha's step for what it was; another plot completed, another victory notched in her belt, a battle won in her eternal war against the Heroes who thought they were in charge.

  The very last seat, her favorite spot, sat unclaimed. She glanced around, but nobody else from Mrs. Dawn's class had made their way to the bus yet. Perfect. Hopefully the rest of the class is still picking up my answer to the riddle and I'll have some peace when the cheerleaders miss the bus.

  The scratched blue flip phone from her belt pouch held no new messages from the Foster Monsters, but her other phone began to buzz the moment it was powered on. A secret gift to herself paid for by skipping lunch for a few months to supplement her meager allowance. This phone, her real phone, sparkled with pink plastic gems and animal stickers. She maintained it through careful rationing of her remaining funds and the occasional small theft. It had become her only way to reach her last remaining friend.

  Suz: Congrats on surviving High School. You still want to meet tomorrow? We need to finish our rescue plans and I'm dying to see you, after like a year.

  Suz: Hey!

  Suz: Hey! You out yet?

  Suz: You should be out already, I'm actually dying here! How did it go?

  Yes! Adventure, intricate planning, and a Hero defeated. Now I just have to dye my hair blue, and learn to talk to animals like Miss Zoo, to truly be living in an anime. Ha, on second thoughts, let’s stay away from the blue hair.

  S: Just escaped, so far, no cheerleaders. I'm still up for lunch tomorrow

  Suz: Great! Yes. Lunch is a go!

  S: I’ve gotta be careful tho’, Jon cancelled my allowance, and I only have a little bit of money left to keep my phone running

  Suz: I'm buying, and the timing works for me. Mom's cool with us meeting and most of the rest of the week I'm busy with the band. We have a lot of practice to do before the Battle of the Bands.

  Suz: As excited as I am to see you, I want to get you out of that house more. You don't have a lot of time left.

  S: Don't remind me. I'm beyond ready to escape the foster monsters and have a real life

  S: I'm like the stereotypical orphan girl, taking out trash and cleaning tables. Always in trouble and screamed at by foster daddy when I’m bad. I'm getting used to it and that scares me

  Suz: I'm so sorry Samantha. I feel horrible that I can't help you yet, but you will be free and clear soon. We just have to keep you going another few days.

  Suz: Anyway, I can't talk much more right now, I'm swamped, and Mister Fibs is sick. I think it's a hairball, but he acts like it's West Nile Virus.

  S: Disappointed face. I understand

  Suz: It's not all bad though. My band wants to autograph our first playbook for you, so you have a treat coming.

  S: Sounds scary being in front of a crowd like that, careful with people who throw stuff. If you get hurt the Heroes won’t help

  Suz: That's not entirely true. The Heroes will help if a Villain gets up to anything shady.

  S: They don't care about us. I wouldn’t be a Hero for a million bucks. I won't be a Hero if I get powers, no matter how much they pay me. Maybe if I get flying and lasers, I'll start a carrier service or something.

  Suz: Samantha, what am I going to do with you? Heroes aren't monsters and most Villains are psychopaths. I'd take studied indifference over outright malice any day of the week. Besides, I haven't yet heard one of your power fantasies that involves helping people yourself.

  Suz: Besides, I'm not sure the world is ready for—

  The heavily muscled form of a football player landed in the seat next to Samantha and interrupted her texting. He slid over until their shoulders touched.

  Crap. I guess my plan wasn't gold medal material after all.

  Trevor Bryant. Gifted athlete and star quarterback. Dark black hair, brown eyes, and God's gift to the sports-worshiping parents of Welbore High School.

  Samantha's ex-boyfriend.

  "Sketchy," she said. "Do you always sidle up on girls unannounced?"

  He let out a long-suffering sigh, sending the scent of onions and powdered cheese wafting into her face.

  Ugh. He likes the nastiest chips. I hope he does something about the aftermath before he maims a cheerleader. Then again, it could be fun to watch Christy Brown pass out when he goes in for a kiss.

  Ignoring the question and smiling down at her, he pushed her lightly with one hand. "You knew! You knew the Mistress of Detention was up to something, and you didn't warn any of us." He squeezed her shoulder three times, knowing she'd hate the reminder of their old code of squeezes and nudges.

  Excitement on the rest of the bus reached a fever pitch at the squeal of metal on metal as the doors slid shut. The bus lurched into motion and cheers drowned out whatever Trevor was trying to say next.

  Knowing he couldn't hear her if she tried to speak; Samantha brushed his hand off and winked. She watched as his excitement transformed into understanding.

  He frowned, hurt more than angry.

  Eventually the commotion dropped back to a murmur, barely louder than the wheels on the road and the rumble of the engine.

  She winked again. "I knew. All I had to do was ask literally anyone from the last senior class. She does the same trick every year, though I bet she mixes it up after what I did to her."

  "You really did know. Shit, I was half teasing." He sat back against the seat, no longer touching her.

  Samantha laughed. "Even if you get the answer right, she claims you are wrong. Once the whole class is impatient and frustrated at the first question, she will accept an answer and then demand the rest of the students tell her what she has in her pocket. Sometimes she does this when she's in a dress like today. She didn
't even have pockets! When no one can answer, she holds them all after the bell. It's a power trip. It's always been a power trip."

  It slowly dawned on the wannabe Hero that he had been a fool. The Villain didn't bother to hide her glee.

  "Fine, apparently we are all idiots to your genius." He ran a hand through his hair. "You're the greatest and we suck...Now why don't you tell me what you meant with the BBs? Everyone was pissed at you and no one knows what the hell you were talking about."

  "Seriously? No one fell on their ass cleaning them up? I'm mildly impressed, but it would have been so much better if the old bat had slipped and someone had to catch her. You know, holding her ass so it wouldn't be broken."

  "Crap. I see it now." Trevor sighed. "Damn it Gray, you don't have to make us all look stupid just to get back at one obnoxious teacher. She made all of us stay after to clean up your mess too."

  Samantha struggled, and failed, to hold back a giggle. "The entire class stayed? That is better than I'd hoped for. You guys are going to make great little office drones when you grow up."

  The bus had grown quiet, the nearest kids listening to Samantha's speech. Most of them were suddenly and painfully aware that the rest of their lives awaited them at the end of this short ride. Whispers bounced back and forth, numbers traded last minute, and yearbooks signed with mistaken declarations of eternal friendship. She wanted to scream at them and their normal lives. It made her sick.

  "What happened to you? When we first met, you thought authority was just fine, now you act like it's a dirty word." Trevor said.

  "It is, and authority is why you nearly missed the bus picking up someone else's mess. Final grades were turned in yesterday. You could have spit in her coffee today and she couldn't have done a thing about it. You were all there because you failed to challenge her, and I hope the BBs were fun to pick up."

  Trevor frowned, opening and closing his mouth in surprise before finally stopping with it half open.

  Ha. His defeat assured, the Hero retreated from battle...by changing the subject in 3...2...1...gotcha.

  Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Are you going to the Hero's Ball after the Graduation party? I'm going, and I could use a date."

  "Why would I go to that? Opposition research? Besides, we had our chance, and it didn't work out." She eyed him wearily. He knows I'm not interested anymore, what's his angle?

  He sighed. "What happened to us Gray? I thought after school was out, now that I'm not on the team, we could be together again. I miss you." He met her flat stare, then flinched and settled on looking out the window over her head.

  She leaned over against the window to make it tougher for him to avoid looking at her, pressing her arm against the cool glass of the window as she did. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what gave you that idea. I told you when you made the team that you'd sold out." She cleared her throat, pushing her emotions down as she did. "You didn't seem to care, but you can't fight authority by joining them Trev. One day you went from helping me stand up to them, to proudly accepting their pats on the head while the crowd cheered your name."

  I couldn't very well tell you Jon decided you were a bad influence. Or that my therapist agreed, and they forced me to break up with you. We were so close, and you barely noticed that I withdrew from everything, or that I cut everyone else off at the same time. I guess it's a good thing you are so oblivious. I get hurt when people notice me too much.

  Without warning, he leaned in and put his arms around her. Warmth, and a fuzzy feeling she'd nearly forgotten, enveloped her...until she remembered.

  Jon screaming in her tear-streaked face. Her favorite ceramic unicorn in a million pieces against the wall. A terrified promise to obey, to stay away from Trevor, anything to be safe again.

  Holding back new tears, she pushed against his arms, but he didn't let her go like he had last year.

  What are they feeding you these days? Rocks? I can't breathe damn it. Don't you know what you are doing to me? Let me go.

  After a moment, he did.

  I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me alone. A warm headache bloomed behind her eyes, and she didn't say what she was thinking.

  "You need to let me go Trev. Besides, you went out with Christy Brown when we didn't work out. The biggest bitch on the literal bitch squad. You know she lives next door to me, rubbing my face in it every damn day. The day you went steady she literally hung her tits over the fence so she could make kissing noises into her phone where I would see."

  He banished the image with a dismissive wave. "Then how about this. I didn't tell her what I'm telling you; you are the only one, besides my parents and sister, who know." His grin doubled in size as he whispered, "I'm a Prime, Gray. I'm going to be a Hero, and I want to be with you, not Christy."

  Samantha's thoughts scattered in a million directions, and she couldn't quite pull herself together to form an intelligent response. Holy crap. I'm glad he survived his first Manifestation...I'm going to be so jealous if he got flying. "A Prime? You?"

  "Yes." There was a world of excitement in that one word. "I've been training with dad, and I'm going to get tested, he already set it up. I'll start an apprenticeship with one of the local Hero teams soon, but those only last for a couple of months. I already figured out my code name."

  She didn't say anything, leaning against the window to put some space between them. He’s going to freak if he finds out I’ve been talking with some Villains about an internship after I escape Jon’s house.

  "Quarterback." He waved his hands theatrically, his beautiful liquid eyes searching for some sign of approval. "I'm going to be bigger than a rock star, and I've never wanted anything more than to have you with me on this."

  I can't Trev...and it's been a long time since I fell for your puppy dog eyes.

  Someone yelled. Brakes squealed, and the bus lurched to a stop, throwing some of the kids forward against the seats in front of them. The window was still cool to the touch; she ignored the excitement up front.

  Quarterback is a terrible code name. Did he put any thought in that at all?

  They were too focused on each other to do more than brace themselves against the seats.

  She shifted her feet, the tacky gum loud as it pulled free from the bottom of her shoes. A reminder of where she was, and how she got there. I might have said yes, if you weren't going to be a Hero. I'm too close to finally being free to risk complications like that. What if they try to make me stay with Jon and Mildred?

  "I need to live my own life Trev, and as the only who didn't have to stay late and clean up my mess, I'm pretty happy with my choices. All of my choices." We become the masks we wear.

  Trevor's eyes flashed, glaring with all the strength of a desperately spurned teenager; He pressed his lips together and glanced around the rest of the bus. The other teenagers were all standing and pointing out of the windows.

  She flinched away from the glass, rubbing her arm. Something is wrong. She couldn’t turn easily to see behind her with how close Trevor was, so she pushed against him to make more room.

  He didn’t move.

  "Gray, I thought we could fix things, but I guess you really did write me off. I can hardly believe you purposely pissed off the Pink Yoda so she would keep us late. I don't know why you are acting this way, but trying to make me miss the bus is kinda hateful, and that's not like you at all. None of this has been like you since we broke up. What happened?"

  Samantha faked a cough to hide her surprise. I didn't think he would put the details together on that. Still, that's the question he should have asked last year when it was relevant. "Maybe it's exactly like me, and so what if it isn't? Maybe I didn't want to find myself wedged into a bus seat while you give me a sob story to get me back. Speaking of, can you scoot over, something is wrong and I can’t see what’s going on out there."

  Frowning, with his hands clenched into knots, Trevor jumped to his feet to tower over her.

  Squeezed against the hot wall a
nd burning window, she covered her head with both hands. The sounds of broken glass danced in her mind. I'm sorry.

  Trevor didn't say anything. He remained there, above her. Hesitantly, she looked up between her hands only to see that he wasn't looking at her. He'd braced himself between the seats and was staring outside with wide eyes.

  A woman screamed as the acrid scent of smoke floated in through the partially open windows at the other seats.

  The bus erupted into yelling and everything lurched a foot towards Samantha's side, pressing her against the unbearable heat of the bus wall.

  Trevor snapped out of his shock and glanced down at Samantha.

  She turned, slipping her backpack in between herself and the steaming window. Yellow flames licked against the glass, inches from her face.

  Steely fingers sunk into her shoulders and pulled her free, then Trevor's heavy body crushed her to the ground in the aisle.

  Yelling from all over the bus made it impossible to isolate one person in the cacophony...until Trevor's team captain voice cut through it like a knife.

  "Get away from the windows, it's a Prime fight!"

  Chapter 3

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Samantha strained against the weight on her back until she had enough space to suck in a stinging breath of smokey air. "Get off me." She hissed.

  He moved a little, his attention outside of the bus.

  "Despite the rumors, I'm not into the taste of already-walked-on gum." They are definitely feeding him rocks. "Get all the way off Trevor. Now."

  Trevor snorted, but shifted around until he merely crouched over her. "Stay down, it's crazy out there, and isn't much safer in here."

  I'm in in no hurry to be an over-cooked hot dog...and I'm pretty sure Heroes don't save people by suffocating them, though on second thought, I suppose it would cut down on complaints if they did.

  Jostling and pushing each other for the spaces furthest from the windows, the crowd crushed themselves against the left-hand side of the bus. The windows on the right, some of which still hung open, allowed more inky black smoke into the bus.

 

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