Her head came to rest against the glass as she watched the city passing by, her hand firmly resting flat against the window as well. Lucky said they are like a family.
A gruff male voice called out from the back. "Hey."
Samantha ignored him. Please take the hint, I'm muddy, tired, and I have more important things to deal with than some guy who thinks he's sexy.
"Hey, blueberry. Where did you get your hair done?" One of the guys dropped into her seat and scooted close. He wasn't quite close enough to touch, but taste of weed and incense wafted across the remaining inches between them, seemingly impregnated in his spike-covered jacket. There were so many tiny, blunted spikes, they hid the leather underneath, just like her own bedazzled sneakers. The remains of a once proud Mohawk hung off his head, demolished by wind and sweat.
"Go away." She turned back to her window, her hand still tightly pressed against it. I hope Trevor is doing okay. I'll have to text him tonight. Warmth pulsed behind her eyes, an unpleasant counterpoint to the cold window, but not yet painful. She pushed cold spikes of power into her eyes, hoping to shut down the migraine before it got started. It made it worse.
"C'mon, I'm not trying to hit on you, I just want to know where you had your hair done; I've never seen a dye that vivid. I swear I'll go away after that. How did you do it?" He poked her shoulder.
Samantha spun around and thrust her face directly into his, the whites of her eyes a brilliant shade of crimson. "I said leave me alone."
Staring into her ferocious eyes, mere inches from his own, the guy tried to jump back. Unfortunately, his feet were tangled around the leg of the bench and he fell flat on his back, leg still trapped. "Fuck. Holy shit."
Eyes rolling wildly and mouth half open, he stared up at her while extracting his leg. He crab-walked backwards down the aisle to his friends where his panicked voice floated through the nearly empty bus. "She's a fucking demon. You go talk to her, I'm out."
Smiling, Samantha leaned back against her window and she pushed her eyes back to golden brown. I need to remember to turn my hair back when I get to the school and switch into my other clothes. So much for a low profile...but that was fun.
Samantha kept watch on the group out of the corner of her eye as they whispered and pointed.
The two guys seemed to be Punks, with leather jackets, sad Mohawks, and spikes pushed through pretty much everything. The lone girl seemed more goth. Silver bands contrasted her black outfit at the wrists and neck. Her long black hair mostly obscured her pale face, though wings of brilliant purple eye shadow peeked out now and again.
The girl stared in Samantha's direction while the guys were pushing each other and exchanging insults. Friend stuff. I used to have those before Mom and Dad died. I even had a little bit of that before I lost Eddie. So maybe the red eye thing was a bit over the top, but I don't even know how to apologize for something like that. He might go back to demanding to know things about me.
Coldness seeped into her hand from the window. Safe.
The two older women at the front got off at the next stop.
The bus pulled away from the curb, and the three teenagers dropped into the seats around her.
The girl landed next to Samantha, and the two guys took seats behind her and across the aisle. I'd hoped he would think twice about crowding a girl he doesn't know next time, not come back for more with his friends.
The girl jabbed Samantha in the ribs. Not hard, but enough to yank her attention away from the blushing guy across the aisle who was trying desperately to avoid looking at her.
"What the hell? Who do you think you are?" They stared at each other for a moment, then Samantha turned back to the window. "Go away."
Susan? No makeup, blonde Susan, who swore she'd rather die than wear blush? I guess a year does change a person.
The girl's voice was familiar, sweet and friendly, but barely more than a whisper. "Samantha Gray, I knew it!"
Samantha kept her eyes on the window. Why didn’t she tell me she’d changed so much in her texts? I thought we were friends. "I thought you were out of town and out of reach for the weekend?"
"I am, as soon as mom gets off work. I'm glad we ran into each other, but I've been watching the whole time, to see if you'd recognize me, and you didn't put anything in your eyes before Jeff sat down." Susan said. "You didn't take anything out after he ran away either, but your eyes are brown now. Hey Jeff, are you sure they were red?"
"Shut up, I didn't run. It was a strategic retreat," Jeff huffed. "They were redder than Mark's contacts."
The other guy laughed. "Man, I can't see shit in those things."
"Oh sorry, you are right, you didn't run." Susan turned back to Samantha. "So, after you scared the shit out of Jeff, and he crawled away in terror, how did you get your eyes back to brown?"
"Hey, that isn't fair!"
She ignored him. "Well, are you a Prime? It would explain why you bailed on me—and the crazy vivid hair, too. I promise these guys won't tell anyone if you are, but I really want to know. Did it happen yesterday? Is that why you changed your mind about lunch? Why didn’t you tell me?"
The two guys fell silent. Listening.
Wow, so I'm a perfect failure at having a secret identity. Might as well get a wrist band and some flashing lights.
"Please tell us. I didn't notice it was you until we sat down, but everyone is watching for Primes, trying to figure out their secret identities. Anything out of the ordinary gets a lot of attention."
"I'm sorry I bailed on you," Samantha mumbled.
"It's fine hun, I'm not mad." Susan waited, as if hoping Samantha would add something, then continued, "The way we see it, Primes are our kind of people. Hated for no particular reason and treated like shit by the police."
"Fine, yes. I'm a Prime. My special power is apparently being bad at hiding that I'm a Prime. I'm sorry I scared your friend, and I don't want to talk about it. I'm a failure at everything, including dealing with people." She turned back to the window, her ever-present headache throbbing to life. Every word I say is just screwing up my secret identity more. Worse, Jon and Mildred might find out. They would definitely tell Dr. Darkle...and he will find a way to use it against me. To trap me.
The two guys fell silent, then got up and moved away.
Susan stayed. "Now is as good a time as any to talk. What's really going on?"
"I guess I need to tell you, if you are still going to help me get away." Samantha took a deep breath, still watching the world through her cold window as she spoke. "It's been a crazy, crazy couple of days. Trev tells me he's a Prime, then a Prime tried to melt my face, so Trev goes off to save the bus driver, then the police caught up with me at home and got all bitchy—"
"Samantha, slow down." Susan touched her shoulder.
"Then Jon threatened me again. I'm worried he knows I'm planning to bail on Kevin's plans, and I woke up to find I'm a Prime now, too. I went to the park yesterday, to practice, and some dicks helped me get away from some creepers," Samantha said. Her heart thumped faster, beating in time with the pounding behind her eyes.
"Hey! Breathe girl." Susan squeezed Samantha's shoulder.
Samantha gasped in a breath and pressed the back of her head against the window. The cool glass helped a little. "I can't or I'll stop talking. This is so much harder than it should be, and I'm not supposed to talk to my old friends at all. Today I met a sketchy lady who seems nice; she offered to help me train, but I don't know if it's a good idea. I am glad you’re here. Could I come home with you right now?" She pulled a surprised Susan into a fierce hug.
Susan sighed and pushed Samantha back with a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, this changes everything. Mom was willing to help an underage Null friend get away from abusive foster parents, but the laws are different for Primes. Now we have to be much more careful about how we get you out of that house."
"Wait, why?" Samantha's voice shook. "18 years is 18 years, for Primes the same as Nulls."
&nb
sp; Susan shook her head. "Not to the courts. If the foster monsters find out you are a Prime before you are of age, they can have you restrained under their care until you are judged to be safe without a chaperone. That's before we get to how many people die from out-of-control powers every month. Primes are dangerous to be around."
"That's only first Manifestations, but I already had mine and my power is totally tame." Samantha took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of monsters and twisted fingers from her mind. "So far I've mostly just changed my hair color." She held a handful of her blue hair out to the light. "I added some inches and changed the shade a few times."
Susan leveled a finger at her friend's nose. "Damn it, this isn't a game you can play to make your hair pretty. Manifestations are serious as a heart attack, and there are no harmless powers. Unless we are very careful, Mom isn't going to be okay with you staying with us ever now."
"Your mom is pretty bitchy anyway, what does she know? She isn't a Prime expert." Samantha put her back against the seat so she could see Susan and put her hand on the glass at the same time.
"No she's not." Susan said coldly. "She's a lawyer, and you should have more respect for someone who already offered to risk her job for you." Susan's face twisted into a frown and she stood to go.
"Hey. I'm sorry." Samantha held out her hand, keeping it steady despite the staccato throbbing inside her skull. "I'm not doing so well right now, and I'm trying to sort it out. You’re the only friend I have left, and you wouldn't believe how tough it's been just to text you. Don't cut me off over this. Please." Please don't go, I need you.
Susan stared at her. "Of course. This next stop is mine and I can't miss it. We can still have you over, after you are 18, but I need to talk to my mom before I can promise anything sooner. I wish I could bring you home right now, but Mom would lose her mind over you being underage and a Prime. I won't do that to her, not even for you."
At the next stop, Susan and her friends filed silently past her seat. Susan offered a hug and Samantha hugged her back.
Jeff hurried by last, waving at Samantha before fleeing out the door.
Get your game face on Samantha, literally. The seat was just high enough to hide her head while she pushed red back into her hair. It took about five minutes of her power, the cold rush shutting down the pulsing migraine from earlier.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she pulled a tiny notebook and a granola bar out of her knapsack. I should probably have some sort of plan for being on my own.
Hero Pros
*Money will help me get away from the foster monsters
*Training will help me not melt my brain
*Contacts might help me find out what happened to Eddie
*If I become a Hero, maybe Dr. Darkle won't be able to get at me anymore
Hero Cons
*I do not have money of my own, leaving me at their mercy
*Would be outing myself and my powers, making Villainy tougher if I change my mind
*Might get cornered by Trevor, or stuck on his team
*Jon made a big deal about Dr. Darkle being a Prime Psychologist, so it might still put me under his thumb if I get in trouble
*Heroes suck
Questions
1) Find out how much Primes earn for getting tested.
2) How much money do Heroes make in a year?
3) Can foster parents prevent someone from going away for testing? Or control me as a Hero?
4) Does Dr. Darkle have any official power over Heroes?
5) Will they have sympathy for someone with no family?
Wellbore High loomed large in her thoughts. It was only a few stops away. I wonder how many students are going to the Hero thing? We've had so many Heroes giving assembly speeches and autographs, maybe no one will show up.
The bus pulled up to a deserted bench, surrounded by well-trimmed trees, in front of the school.
I hope Christy Brown stayed home. The last thing I want is a run-in with her and her bitch squad.
Samantha was out the door the moment the bus stopped moving. Phoenix Star would infiltrate the hideout of her enemies, stealing their secrets...her stomach growled...and their food. Her skills at trickery would be tested, but ultimately she would prevail.
Chapter 16
Friday May 21st, 2010
Welbore High. One of hundreds of small Idaho schools defined by sports, specifically football. At some point, someone had decided the playing field was more important than teaching, and squeezed the hodgepodge of brown buildings together like a refugee camp. Huddled close to make room for the tiny parking lot, they left plenty of room for the huge football field that filled up almost half of the campus.
Tonight, light shone from every window. The gymnasium was setup for the graduation ceremony and dance; attended by surly faculty and jubilant teenagers. If the looks on their faces were anything to go by, the teachers were already fiendishly preparing their plans to torture the next generation of students. There was some ceremony for handing out diplomas happening later, but that wasn't something Samantha cared about.
They can mail it to me, or whatever.
All that really mattered waited ahead of her. The Auditorium. The Heroes chose the building with the best acoustics, and enough room to setup their little booths and slide shows. All in hopes of snaring some young Prime, or convincing a kid who would Manifest later to join the side of the "good" guys.
"A Villain saved is a Hero earned," was Mrs. Dawn's most favorite phrase. Barf. She started every class with it, always reminding the kids that Villainy never pays...even though it obviously did, or people wouldn't be constantly doing it.
All the money for those getaway cars and secret lairs has to come from somewhere. Sad there isn't a Villain's Guide to making-friends-and-tons-of-money online. I checked.
Late arriving ex-students were still lining up at the door for the dance, and no one seemed to care about the Heroes’ little social experiment. If I don't have to make myself throw up on the bitch squad again, then I suppose it's a good day after all.
She glanced around for any suspicious characters…Oh wait, that's me…then went inside, directly to the bathroom to change.
The decorations were about as pathetic as she'd expected.
An obligatory red banner hung from one wall to the other. "Welcome Future Heroes!" It's bottom edge was lined with pretty blue ribbons and fluttered in the air conditioning. They were designed to look like little Hero capes.
The floor was sectioned off by movable walls, while a large whiteboard map in the center area detailed the presentations inside each booth.
1) I'm a Prime and I need help
2) Someone I know is keeping their Manifestation a secret
3) How much fun is it to be a Famous Hero? (pay/perks/fame)
4) 5 things you should know about the 95's
5) How to spot a Villain 101
6) Is the life of a Military Prime Right for You?
7) Snacks & Beverages
I see they brushed up on their Big Brother theatrics.
Parts of the lectures floated over the thin walls. To the right came a friendly female voice with a Spanish accent. "...that is a very good question. Military Primes are considered force multipliers and are paid based on their particular Manifestation. A Prime equivalent to a tank replaces an entire crew and is paid accordingly."
Another woman was speaking further to the right. "Sure thing dude, it's all about safety. Pay attention in training you are going to hurt your buddies. Everyone has to sign up and learn the limits of their powers. You can still decide on a job after that. A smart 95 can make six figures easy."
A big black marker caught her eye, sitting enticingly under the whiteboard.
Miss Erase started her career against the Heroes small, but decisively.
Quickly rubbing out the numbers, she replaced them as randomly as she could. She was filling in the last one when someone cleared their throat behind her.
"Fuck." She spun aro
und holding her black sharpie as if it were a knife.
A muscled young man stood behind her, far too close for a comfort.
He took a black mark on his forearm and another on his wrist before leaping back, hands held out defensively. "Whoa, whoa, hey, relax, calm down, I'm on your side. Damn, you're fast."
His grey shirt stretched distractingly across his muscular frame as he moved, strategically showing off the large biceps and toned stomach beneath it. He wore a pair of black slacks that hung loose, more like the pants a martial artist would wear than regular pants.
He'd kept his voice low, so she did the same. "Don't. Scare. Me. Like. That." She punctuated each word with a swing of her marker, trying, and failing, to score another hit.
He blocked or dodged every attack, a hairs breadth ahead of her now that his surprise had worn off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he whispered. "I was going—" He ducked back from a jab aimed at his nose, "—to say you put the 1 and the 7 back where they are supposed to go."
Panting, she stopped. "Oh."
Smiling now, he gently took the marker from her hand and rubbed out the correct numbers, then carefully rewrote them in the wrong places.
"There we go, all fixed." His smile grew into a full grin. "Now let’s get out of here before the new guy comes to see what the ruckus was about, he's kinda uptight about the rules." He grabbed her hand and pulled her off to the side.
His insistent grip was loose enough to be friendly as he took her into a narrow lane that had been left open between the booths and the outer wall of the Auditorium. A perfect clandestine hiding place, if they were quiet.
She allowed him to lead her until they were out of sight next to the folded wall bleachers, then yanked free.
"Who are you?" she hissed, backing away.
His smile turned bashful. "Oh, well, um, I'm Connor. I just, uh, help the Heroes while they give their speeches to the kiddos. Setting up projectors and moving heavy things." He laughed and swept his shaggy hair out of his eyes with one hand. "How about you? Running around with secret powers and doing some opposition research? You wouldn't be the first, and you aren't dressed for the dance."
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