DeAnno
Power over Versatility
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I'd feel safer walking on the streets of RL Baltimore.
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The Slippery Slope [Worm AU]
- Thread starter Ack
- Start date
I'd feel safer walking on the streets of RL Baltimore.
volantredx
Experienced.
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That's because you have a warped view of both places. Nothing pre-Levi seems to suggest that Brockton Bay is anything worse than a lot of major American cities. There are some places that are in fact dangerous to go out at night, but it's not a warzone.
Siggimondo
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Is it weird that this makes me sad and happy at the same time?
Prince Charon
Just zis guy, you know?
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Do you mean RL (in which case Taylor's own situation screams that it's worse), or in-setting (which I'd want to see proof of, but wouldn't really need much, because Worm).
volantredx
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RL. Brockton Bay pre-Levi is no worse than Detroit or LA in the 90s. It's crime ridden but it's not a war zone.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Except when parahumans get to fighting. Then the collateral damage gets real, fast.
There's a reason the PRT wear body armour and carry heavy weapons, even though they're there to deal with one percent of one percent of the population.
volantredx
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Like SWAT teams.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Only, you know, more so.
edale
Versed in the lewd.
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SWAT teams staffed by people with training to make the military special forces look like rank amateurs.
Remember, all of the best of the best are in PRT...or mercenaries.
And you know....equipped by Dragon.
Peanuckle
Versed in the lewd.
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Pre-Leviathan BB was a shithole. The boatyard had shut down local shipping, large chunks of the city were abandoned, the gangs were larger than the local Protectorate, law enforcement was generally ineffective and the whole thing was on a hair's edge of blowing up into a massive gang-war. The national guard was called in (or was going to be called in) to help deal with the extreme crime rate.
Leviathan's attack just wrecked the physical situation to match the social situation.
Leviathan's attack just wrecked the physical situation to match the social situation.
Part Two: Acceptance
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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The Slippery Slope
Part Two: Acceptance
It didn't take long before the results of my innocuous text message began to bear results. Two days later, I began to notice the same few boys loitering where I was, going from class to class at the same time. They were never intrusive, never too close for my liking, but they were always there.
And then, as I was going downstairs on the third day, I heard a scuffle behind me. Looking around, I saw Sophia sitting on the steps, one of my shadows between me and her. She was glaring at him; he shrugged and said, "Sorry, didn't see you there."
I quickly pieced it together; she'd been about to trip me down the stairs, and he had intervened, body-checked her into the wall or something. There was no way he'd not seen her; boys drooled over her all the time.
I moved on; I didn't want Sophia knowing I'd seen her like that. The boy followed me to my next class, then paused and murmured, "Peter says hi," before strolling off.
I sat through the class, somewhat stunned. Peter had actually lived up to his word. I was being protected. On one level, I was elated; on another, disturbed. Nothing good happened to me, not these days. There was another shoe waiting to drop, another bolt of lightning waiting to strike. Another price to pay.
None of Emma's cronies were in Mrs Knott's computer class, so I had relative peace and quiet there. Pulling out the phone he'd given me, I dashed off a quick text: Thank you.
Moments later, I got one back; another smiley face. I would have liked to send another text, but Mrs Knott had heard the chime, and was looking my way, so I applied myself to the work.
That was Friday; on the Monday, things started warming up again.
It began simply enough; in World Affairs class, Madison's friend Julia tried to get close enough to pour glue on my book. However, someone sitting behind me stuck his foot out, and she tripped; glue splashed all over the floor and all over herself. She got up, hotly accusing me of tripping her. Before I could answer the accusation, the boy behind me stood up.
"Sorry, sir," he addressed Mr Gladly, "it was me. I tripped her."
Mr Gladly looked suspiciously at him, then nodded curtly. "Sit down, and don't do it again." He turned to Madison's friend. "Julia, go and wash yourself off. Why were you carrying an open glue container, anyway?"
She mumbled some sort of excuse and fled; I glanced around to look at the boy, who seemed to be totally engrossed in the lesson at hand; beyond him, I could see Madison glaring at the both of us. I gave her an innocent shrug – I didn't do anything – but it didn't seem to help.
"Hey," he murmured, once Gladly was facing the board. "Swap books?"
I frowned; I wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, but he'd helped me out once, so I passed my book back, and received his in return.
When Julia returned, she came straight over to me, pretended to trip and planted both hands on the open textbook. Then she went on back to Madison, with a satisfied smirk; on the book was a mass of pink hand soap, ruining the page. I stared at it; what the fuck?
But then there was a tap on my shoulder; the boy behind me wanted to swap books back.
"She put soap on it," I hissed.
"I know," he murmured back.
I blinked; if he wanted a damaged textbook …
We swapped books once more, and I kept a surreptitious eye on Madison and Julia from then on. However, it was getting pretty close to the end of the lesson then, so they didn't try anything else.
I went to the next class after sending another thank-you note to Peter; he sent me yet another smiley face. Once again, I was shadowed to my classroom; I nodded to the boy as he peeled off. He nodded back, ever so slightly. It was a weird feeling; I had bodyguards.
There was no-one to bother me in Mr Quinlan's math class, but my head was still reeling from the realisation that Peter – or someone – was going to some lengths to ensure that I was undisturbed by bullies while at Winslow. But even if Peter hadn't organised it, he had certainly set it in motion.
The trouble started during the lunch hour, when I went upstairs to the girls' bathrooms. I noticed that the boy who had body-checked Sophia was following me; I slowed to let him catch up.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I told him bluntly. "You won't be able to follow me in there."
"Ah," he noted, and pulled out his phone. I watched, mystified, as he sent a text.
"What was that about?" I asked, as he finished.
"Reinforcements." he replied, as we kept going up.
I got to the third floor, and my heart sank. There was a bunch of girls standing around the bathroom door, and I thought I recognised them all. All of them were Emma's friends … or rather, Sophia's patsies. Doing her dirty work, because she saw me as a threat.
Hoping against hope that it was just a coincidence, I approached; however, when they saw me coming, they closed ranks.
"Sorry, Taylor," one of them told me with false sweetness, "but the bathroom's occupied."
"What, by all of you?" I asked disbelievingly.
"Sure," one of her friends added. "You can go down and use the boys' toilets. I'm sure they won't even notice."
The girls laughed, and I felt my face grow hot. "Come on, I need to go to the bathroom," I insisted. "You've had your joke."
But as I tried to push my way forward, they pushed me back again. I glanced back to the boy who had accompanied me, but he was standing off a little way, casually observing us.
Great. Well, I won't get much help out of him, then. Thanks a bunch, Peter.
Just then, Emma emerged from the bathroom, and another girl entered.
"Oh, hi, Taylor," Emma greeted me brightly. "So sorry, the bathrooms seem to be occupied."
I was starting to feel the pressure on my bladder. "Emma," I ground out. "Seriously. Blocking me out of the bathrooms?"
"Oh, we're not blocking you out of the bathrooms," Emma informed me. "But everyone else was here first. You know how it goes."
"Well, I don't know how it goes," a voice behind me observed, "but I am going to the bathroom."
I looked around; a girl had approached the group from the stairs. Blonde, with strong features, she was almost my height, and maybe twice my weight; I figured her for a senior.
Moving toward the little group around the door, she simply didn't stop; they were forced to step aside. Emma didn't move quickly enough, and the girl gave her a jab in the ribs with her elbow; surprised, Emma reeled away. The older girl stopped as she opened the bathroom door, turned to me, and tilted her head in a come-on motion. Jolted to action, I followed her in.
Within, Madison and Sophia were just washing their hands, along with a third girl. They turned to stare as I followed the senior into the bathroom.
"What the fuck are you doing in here, Hebert?" demanded Sophia.
"Going to the bathroom," I retorted. "What did you fucking think? Waiting for the fucking train?"
In the silence that followed, Madison's jaw slowly dropped; Sophia's suffused with anger. At the same time, I saw the senior going along the row of cubicles, pulling on the doors. The second one opened, and she held it that way, a clear invitation to me.
"You do not fucking talk to me that way," Sophia growled.
"I'll talk to you any way I fucking like … bitch," I replied, giving her the finger. Not giving her a chance to reply, I entered the cubicle and locked it behind me.
Despite the urgency of my bladder, it took me a little while to calm down enough to actually pee; by the time I finished and got out of there, the bathroom was empty, save for the senior.
"Where'd they all go?" I asked as I washed my hands.
She shrugged. "Decided they had better places to be, I guess."
"Well, uh, thanks," I told her. "I appreciate it."
She smiled briefly. "Any time to help a sister out. Besides, Peter asked me to."
I cleared my throat. "I … uh … is Peter someone special? He seems to have a lot of influence … ?"
She tilted her head to one side. "Peter is … Peter. He's a good guy, in case you're wondering."
"But … why's he helping me?" I asked; a question I had posed myself a few times in the last hour. "I'm no-one special."
"Everyone's special," she told me. "But most people can take care of their own problems. Peter saw that your problems were overwhelming you, through no fault of your own, and he likes you, so he asked for help."
"Because I'm a sister," I repeated the term, perhaps just a little sarcastically.
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't knock it. When they try to push you out of where you belong, when they try to tell you that you don't deserve what you've worked for, because of some government equal-opportunity bullshit, you'll be glad to have a brother or a sister at your side to help you out."
"Oh, I appreciate it," I told her. "I'm grateful as hell. I just don't know if I've earned this sort of help."
She smiled as she shook her head. "You don't earn it. You accept it, and pass it on to the next sister or brother who needs it." She held out her hand. "Jenna."
"Oh, uh, Taylor." I shook her hand; she had a strong, firm grip. "And really, thanks."
She shrugged. "Hey, help out a sister sometime, and we'll be even."
We exited the bathroom; my shadow was loitering near the stairwell. Jenna gave him a nod as we neared him. "Kelly."
"Jenna," he replied. "Thanks for stepping in."
"Any time," she responded, bumping fists with him. "See you round. And you too, Taylor."
"See you round, Jenna," I told her, and watched as she went down the stairwell two at a time.
I checked my watch. "Shit, I won't have time to get through the lunch line."
"We figured as much," Kelly told me easily as he strolled down the steps. "Bronson's in the lunch line now. He's getting what you had with Peter that time. Peter'll meet you out at the front steps with it; that okay?"
I stopped, my jaw dropping slowly. Kelly turned to look at me. "What?"
"Why?" I stared at him. "Why me?"
He shrugged. "Peter says you're a sister, so you get protection. I don't know what those bitches have against you, and it's none of my business. I'm just here to make sure shit doesn't go down."
I fumbled money out of my purse. "Give this to Bronson, whoever he is. I pay for my own meals."
"Sure," he agreed, accepting it. "Gonna meet Peter out on the steps?"
I nodded. "Yeah. The steps."
"Hey, Taylor."
I turned around as Peter pushed open the school doors and joined me at the steps. "Peter."
He sat down just close enough to pass me my lunch, then looked at me quizzically. "From your less than overjoyed expression, you've got a beef with me."
"Yeah." I reconsidered. "No, not really." Closing my eyes, I let my head bump back against the concrete wall. "Fuck, I don't know."
"And now that we've cleared that up … " he murmured, sounding amused.
I opened my eyes and glared at him. "Don't you fucking start."
He shrugged. "Taylor. I just got here. I'm really pleased to see you, but please don't come over all pissed at me without actually telling me what I've done."
Conflicting emotions chased through me. He's pleased to see me. A warm flush spread through my chest. This was followed by embarrassment and guilt; I had snapped at him for no good reason.
I took one deep breath, then another. "I'm just a bit unsettled, I guess. And kind of weirded out."
"Why is that?" His expression was polite, his tone mildly curious.
"Because of Kelly, and Jenna, and Bronson, and the others," I burst out. "They're actually helping me. Getting in the way of the bullies. Stopping shit from happening."
One of his eyebrows raised slightly. "And this is a bad thing?"
"No, but I didn't expect it to happen like this," I confessed. "Not like I'd have bodyguards running interference for me."
He looked somewhat bemused. "Well, how did you expect it to work?"
"I don't know!" I paused and lowered my voice. "I don't know. I don't even know if I really expected it to work. I know I didn't expect anything this blatant."
"Well, I'd prefer it that way too," he assured me. "But those bitches are pretty determined to get to you. Bitch-face must be pushing them hard."
I shook my head. "I don't even know what I did to piss her off. I'd spoken to her about once, before school started. She was a bitch to me then. I'd never even met her before."
Peter nodded sympathetically. "Emma was your friend back then, right?"
"Yeah," I told him. "I went on summer camp, and visited Emma when I got back. Sophia was there, and she told me to fuck off, and Emma -" I paused, breathing deeply. "Sorry. Emma just looked at me. Like I was a stranger. Told me that she'd basically outgrown me."
"Oh, that's easy then." Peter's voice was light.
I frowned. "What?"
"Sure." He sat forward and twisted around so as to face me. "Emma's popular. Well, she's good-looking, her dad's got money, and she's got a strong personality. Which pretty well translates to 'popular', yeah?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted. "But I was never interested in all that. She was just my best friend."
His beaming smile lit up his face, and caused my heart to lurch, just a little. "That's just one of the things I really like about you, Taylor. You're so genuine. You don't do the bullshit thing."
I found myself flushing, and there was a lump in my throat. "Uh, Peter," I managed, "you were talking about Sophia?"
He nodded. "Yeah. See, she meets Emma. Emma's popular, she wants to get in on the popular thing, so she gets her hooks into her. She's kind of good-looking, if you're into that sort of thing, and she probably fed Emma a line of bullshit about how cool she was. Meanwhile, she's just using Emma to pretend that she's better than she is. So when you show up, Emma's actual friend, she's got to get rid of you fast, before you uncover her for the lying parasite she really is."
I thought about that. The warmth that had filled me from Peter's compliment had drained away completely, leaving me with a cold empty place inside. It made sense; it made a lot of sense.
"So, what you were saying, earlier, about Sophia knowing that I'm better than her ... "
"Well, duh," he replied, with a warm chuckle. "She's a lot of things, but she's not fucking stupid. Of course you're better than her. If she let Emma see that for even a moment ... "
"You're saying that Emma would be my friend again?" I wasn't sure what was in the tone of my voice.
He shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe she's bought too much into the black-is-better thing. In any case, would you really want to be friends with a turncoat race traitor who would dump a friendship of years to be with a manipulative black bitch like Sophia?"
Tentatively, I shook my head. "I ... I guess not."
"Of course not," he agreed. "It's this sort of thing that teaches you who your real friends are."
Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
He tilted his head. "I detect a note of doubt in your voice. What's up?"
I took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "I really don't want you to think that I'm not grateful, because I really am, but ... "
My voice trailed off, and he looked at me understandingly. "But you're wondering what it's all about, yeah?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted awkwardly. "You're getting your friends to protect me, and it's really nice, but I can't help wondering where the price tag is in all this. Like, you protect me for a while, until I'm used to it, then you tell me that it'll all go away unless I do something for you, like, uh, commit to joining the Empire, or give you some money, or ... " I blushed again, involuntarily.Sleep with you.
"Or that you have to be my girlfriend?" he finished for me, teasingly.
"Uh, yeah, that," I agreed gratefully. He knows damn well what I meant, but he's being nice.
He shook his head. "Taylor," he told me, his voice firm and warm and sincere, "we would never do that to you. I would never do that to you. I mean, sure, I'd love to be your boyfriend – and I do mean just your boyfriend – but I'd never coerce you into a relationship. Or anything else. That would be totally up to you. And as for the rest of it ... well, you have to want to join the Empire. I can't make you do that. Nor would I even try. And you're a friend of the Empire. We don't extort money from our friends."
Stunned, I was unable to talk. He just said he'd like to be my boyfriend.
I didn't know what to think of that. On the one hand, he was a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. On the other, he was good looking, polite, nice to me, and was organising his friends to make sure I didn't get bullied. In short, he was treating me like a girlfriend should be treated, without even being my boyfriend.
"Taylor?" he asked.
I blinked, and realised that I'd been staring at him for about thirty seconds without speaking. "Uh, sorry?"
He grinned. It was sweet, it was cute, it was engaging, and it was aimed at me. I hadn't realised until right then how much I liked his grin.
"I was just asking if there was anything else you were worried about," he explained.
"Um," I began, "if I wanted out … would there be any trouble?"
"Nope," he assured me. "Just tell me, and it's done." He tilted his head. "Do you want out?"
I thought about that for just a few seconds, then shook my head decisively. "Not unless things change," I told him. "I still don't see what's so special about me, but you're doing what you said you would, and oh god you have no idea what it feels like for me to know that someone else is on my side."
"I actually think I do," he replied simply. "I'm a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Doesn't matter that I'm still a teenager. I need a hand, someone's got my back. Any hour of the day, I really need it, all I gotta do is make one phone call, and there'll be someone there to help." He grinned at me. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It does. It really does." I looked back at him. "And there's no price I have to pay? Really?"
"Only what you can afford," he told me. "And only what you're willing and able to do. Right now you haven't got much; I get that. But if you see one of our guys getting a hard time from the ABB or the Merchants, you call me. Or if we need a message passed along, you could do that. Nothing illegal; just, you know, stuff. Help us out. Little favours."
I thought about this. It seemed reasonable. "Bronson and Jenna and Kelly, they're putting it on the line for me," I pointed out. "Sophia might convince some of the boys or girls to beat them up or something, so they can't protect me."
He smiled. "They can try. The Empire takes care of its own."
"And you take care of me, too," I agreed.
A serious nod. "We take care of our friends."
I shifted along the step until I was sitting alongside him. He looked at me curiously. Carefully, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't make any motion to touch me, to kiss me back; he just smiled at me. "You're welcome," he murmured in return. "But hey, if you're interested, we've got a gathering coming up in December. You're invited, if you want to come along."
"I, uh -" I was suddenly unsure. It felt like a huge step. I knew Peter, and I'd met Kelly and Bronson and Jenna. Meeting more people from the Empire Eighty-Eight …
"Your choice," he assured me. "No pressure. You don't want to come, you don't come."
I took a breath. "I … it's okay if I don't want to come?"
A nod. "Totally."
"Then … yeah, I think I'll pass this time. Thanks anyway." I smiled uncertainly. "We can still hang out, right?"
He laughed, cheerful and carefree. "Oh god yes. Did you think I'd be offended or something?"
"Um … maybe?"
Another chuckle. "Nope. I like you. That doesn't depend on you coming to gatherings."
"And it's okay if I don't want to be your girlfriend?" I pressed. The word Yet bobbed up into my mind. I shooed it away.
He eyed me with a raised eyebrow. "I'd be worried if you wanted to be my girlfriend just so you could be with the 'in' group. No, it's fine. I like us just the way we are."
"The 'in' group?" I asked curiously.
"Some of us kids," he explained casually. "Our parents are better connected in the Empire than others. There's not really a ranking system, but we've got sort of higher status. It's why I can ask Bronson and Kelly and Jenna to help you out. Dad says it's good practice for when I get older."
I nodded. "So you are more important. I thought so."
He gave me a shrug in return, though I caught a quickly-hidden half-smile; he seemed to be pleased that I'd figured it out. "I don't like to make a huge deal out of it."
"So tell me something, Peter-who-pretends-not-to-be-important," I began, "if I came to a gathering with you, I'd be just your guest, right?"
He nodded. "Right."
"Would they assume that we were involved, just because I came with you?" I watched his face carefully.
"Hell, no," he replied cheerfully. "Grandpa would've been be put out if I showed up with a girlfriend who wasn't Empire, but he was always old-fashioned."
I tilted my head. "Would have been?"
He took a breath. "Died a few years ago. My uncle took over the family business."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I told him immediately. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one. My mom … "
I trailed off; even two years on, it was still painful to refer to it.
His arm went around my shoulders for the first time; lightly, gently, giving me the chance to pull away.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I leaned against him, my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I felt warm and safe. Almost as safe as I felt with my Dad.
But Peter can do more to protect me. The thought felt vaguely treacherous, even if it was true.
We sat that way until the bell rang.
December 2010
"Hey, Taylor!"
I looked around; Emma stood there, flanked by Sophia and Madison. I turned back around, kept walking.
"Taylor, I'm talking to you!"
Frowning, I turned back. Bronson faded into the background as I did so. "For fuck's sake, Emma, what?"
Sophia glowered and took a step forward at my tone; Emma murmured something to her and she stopped. Then Emma raised her voice. "You know that boy you've been hanging out with? Peter Ferguson?"
I nodded. It wasn't exactly a secret that he and I ate lunch on the steps every day. "Yeah, so?"
"Did you know he's Empire Eighty-Eight?" With an expression of triumph on her face, she watched my expression, looking for the shock, the denial.
"Is that all you wanted to say?" I asked. "Seriously?"
I turned away from her and headed down the hallway. Bronson was shadowing me today, because Kelly had been suspended after getting in Sophia's way once too often. I'd apologised to Kelly; he had shrugged and told me it was worth it.
"It's true!" she yelled after me. "Are you a fucking racist bigot as well as a loser, Hebert?"
I stopped and turned around. Slowly, I walked back to Emma. Face to face, we traded glares. I knew that Bronson was nearby, ready to interpose if things got physical.
"I'd rather be a fucking loser than to take my orders from Sophia fucking Hess, any day of the week," I told her flatly. "The moment you want to stop being that bitch's hand puppet, come see me."
"Hey!" yelled Sophia. "That's fucking enough!" She swung her hand at me, open, ready to deliver a stinging slap. I went to dodge away, but it wasn't necessary; Sophia's wrist slapped into Bronson's hand.
"You don't touch Taylor," he rumbled. As he was about my height, and heavier than Jenna, he had a certain physical presence about him.
"Let go of me!" snapped Sophia, wrenching her hand from his grasp. She glared at him; he glowered back.
Emma stared from me to Bronson and back again. "The fuck?" she muttered. "Taylor, have you really fucking joined the Empire Eighty-Eight?"
"No, Emma, I really fucking haven't," I retorted. "I've just got friends now. Friends you can't frighten away. So you can fuck off and leave me alone, or the next time you and your little friends try to get up in my grille, I'm going to punch your fucking lights out."
"Touch me," Emma told me triumphantly, "and my dad will sue your dad into a fucking smoking crater."
I stared at her, trying to see in her the best friend I had once had. She wasn't in there; not any more. The Emma that I had known was dead and gone.
"That's low," I told her. "Fucking low. But then, I bet you learned it from Sophia."
Turning, I took two steps away from her. That was when something smashed into the back of my head, sent me sprawling forward on to the linoleum, head ringing. My glasses had gone somewhere, I didn't know where. Waves of blackness came and went. I heard shouts, screaming, bellows from Bronson.
I was still struggling to get my arms and legs into working order when I felt strong hands helping me up.
"Bronson?" I mumbled.
"That's me," he agreed. "Let's get you to the infirmary."
"Glasses," I slurred. "Came off."
"Shit," he muttered. I vaguely saw him looking around, then he bent down and picked something up. They were my glasses, but someone had stood on them; the frame was bent. Carefully, he bent them back into something approximating normality, and fitted them on to my face.
"Better?" he asked.
"'s'better," I agreed woozily. "Wha'hoppen?"
"She hit you in the back of the head," he stated flatly. "When your back was turned."
I turned my head dazedly, not sure why she would have stopped at hitting me once. The crowd parted briefly, and I saw her lying on the floor. Blood pooled nearby.
"Bronson?" I asked, alarm cutting through the clouds of confusion in my head. "What did you do?"
"Punched her," he growled. "And kicked her a few times."
"Call Peter," I mumbled.
"It's okay," he assured me. "I got this."
"No," I insisted. "Call. Peter. Now."
Because splitting headache or no, concussion or no, I knew that all the shit in the world was going to pour down on Bronson's head. I didn't know exactly why, but I knew that it was.
Peter arrived at the infirmary, as the nurse was examining me. He consulted in low tones with Bronson, and nodded; Bronson got up and left. The nurse ignored the byplay and shone a light into my left eye.
"Hmm," she murmured. "Concussion. Mild." She looked at my face. "Split skin on your jaw. Bump on the back of your head. What happened?"
"Sophia Hess hit me in the back of the head," I stated grimly. "I hit my jaw on the ground."
She stared at me. "Sophia Hess? The girl who does track?"
Yeah, the black bullying bitch who does track, can't possibly do anything wrong, I thought sourly.
"Yes," I confirmed. "The girl who does track."
"Why did she hit you?" she pressed.
"I had an argument with one of her friends."
She looked troubled. "Has anyone told the principal about this?"
"I'd say she knows," Peter put in dryly. "An ambulance just showed up to take Sophia away to the hospital."
My head jerked up, and the nurse scolded me. "Please keep still."
"Wow, that was fast," I muttered, letting the nurse check my right eye.
"It was," she agreed. "Sometimes we've waited an hour or more for an ambulance to get here for injured children." She paused. "Wait, what happened to her?"
"Police are here too," Peter noted, with gloomy satisfaction.
"Wait, seriously?" I stared at him. "One little tiny brawl, and we get an ambulance and police here in the time it normally takes someone to drive out of the parking lot?"
"What happened to Sophia Hess?" insisted the nurse.
"I didn't see," I told her honestly. "I was flat on my face, and my glasses were being trod on at the time." I indicated my obviously-bent glasses on the tray next to me.
"Oh." She didn't ask me any more questions.
The police, however, wanted to ask me lots of questions.
I was escorted into a conference room, and a female police officer sat down opposite me. "I'm Detective Graves," she informed me. "I understand you witnessed the event?"
At this moment, a male officer pushed the door open and pulled a chair up next to Graves. He chose not to identify himself. I looked from one to the other.
"What?" I asked. "Don't I get a school counsellor to sit with me?"
"She's busy," the officer told me shortly.
"Then I'm going to sleep. Someone call my Dad?" I laid my head down on the table, on my crossed arms.
"Hey, kid, this is a serious matter," the male officer snapped. "She was seriously injured."
"Good," I mumbled.
"Good?" He was on his feet, shouting. "GOOD?"
I raised my head. "Yeah. Good. Because I'm the one she punched in the back of the fucking head and gave a concussion to, just before she got the shit kicked out of her. Now fuck off and call my Dad before I choose to sue the school, the police department and everyone in between."
Closing my eyes, I laid my head back down on my arms.
They didn't ask me any questions after that, either.
I stayed home for a couple of days, until my head stopped aching at the slightest noise. Dad stayed home as well, fussing over me.
"But what happened, kiddo?" he asked me worriedly. "Why would this Sophia Hess hit you like that?"
I sighed; the cat would be out of the bag soon enough. "Because she hates me, Dad."
His brow creased. "But what did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything," I stressed. I wanted to explain to him how she found me a threat to the hold she had on Emma, but that would involve explaining that Emma was no longer my friend, and that she had threatened to have Mr Barnes sue Dad … it was too big a can of worms. Better not to open it at all.
"I'm not blind, kiddo," he told me after a moment. "I knew when you broke your glasses and came home with that black eye. I've seen the other times you came home with bruises. I gave you your space, gave you time to tell me. But you never did. Is something happening at school? Is someone picking on you?"
I took a deep breath. "People were," I admitted. "But not any more. They've got friends, and I've got friends, and we leave each other alone."
"Except that this Sophia Hess punched you in the back of the head, and then ended up in the hospital with broken bones," he told me flatly. "That's more than a schoolyard scuffle."
"I didn't pick it," I told him honestly. "But maybe it's done, now."
I didn't believe that myself, but it was something I could hope for.
He frowned worriedly, and hugged me; I hugged him back. "Listen, if anything else happens at school like that, tell a teacher. Tell the principal," he urged me.
I shook my head. "She's the golden girl there. She was the one who assaulted me, and they were going to interrogate me like I was the criminal. And the last time I spoke to Principal Blackwell about this sort of shit, she didn't do a damn thing."
"Okay, then tell me," he decided. "I'll take it to the media if I have to. I can't let this go on."
"Okay, Dad," I agreed. "I'll do that." I knew that I wouldn't. But I'd make the promise if it made him happy.
The only people who could protect me at school were the Empire Eighty-Eight.
Peter's smile was broad. "Taylor," he greeted me. "You're back."
"I am," I agreed, sitting down beside him on the steps. "Still a bit headachey, but I'm good. Better than I was."
"Bronson had to bolt before they arrested him." His voice was low. "Good call on that, by the way."
"Thought there might be trouble over that," I agreed. "And Sophia?"
"You wouldn't fucking believe it," he growled. "Back in the next day, not a hair out of place."
I blinked. "How the hell?"
"Panacea's my guess." He shook his head. "Someone's got serious pull to get her in at short notice."
"Dammit," I muttered. "It's never going to end, is it?"
"Oh, it'll end, one way or the other," he observed. "But in the meantime, we just keep on going."
"Kelly's still suspended, and the cops are looking for Bronson," I noted. "Before this all started, Emma was saying how you were Empire. How would she have figured that out?"
Peter grimaced. "Fuck. It's not exactly a secret, but I would have preferred that it not get out. You didn't say anything, of course." I felt warm inside; he was stating a fact, not asking a question.
"Not a thing," I replied with a grin. "Waved the concussion flag. Emma's dad once told me that cops can't get legal statements from someone under the influence of alcohol or a concussion."
"Nicely done." I smiled at the praise. "It does leave us a bit short-handed, though. I might have to bring in someone else."
"Fuck it," I told him. "I can tough it out till Christmas."
"And Kelly's suspension will be over after that," he agreed. "Good. You can handle it?"
"If Bronson can beat the living shit out of Sophia Hess, I can handle myself for a couple of weeks," I assured him.
"Maybe you should start sitting with the other guys," he suggested. He meant the ones with the buzz-cuts, of course. The ones wearing the colours. "Send a message. Show them that you're with the Empire now, and to fuck with you is to fuck with us."
I shook my head. "Sorry. Not really ready to take that step yet."
A light shrug. "Your choice."
I smiled at him. "Thanks. Could you do me a favour? Thank Bronson for me?"
"Consider it done," he assured me. "He'll be glad to hear you're doing well."
I took his hand and squeezed it. "You're a good friend, Peter," I told him. "I appreciate it."
"Hey," he replied lightly, squeezing my hand back. "Anything for a sister."
Oddly enough, the last two weeks before the Christmas holidays were the easiest that I'd had all year. Sophia backed right off, and her patsies stood down as well. I figured that maybe the beatdown that Bronson had inflicted on Sophia had given her second thoughts.
Every time I passed her in the halls, she glared at me, but did nothing else. I tried to give her glare for glare, but I doubted that she was intimidated.
Emma was less mouthy, but she still got in the occasional jab. I ignored her; she'd done worse. To my mild surprise, she left out the comments about the Empire Eighty-Eight. Maybe it had been a wild guess after all?
I ate lunch outside on the steps with Peter each day; it was my time to enjoy myself with someone nice. Sometimes we swapped lunches, just for the hell of it, and I recommended him some of my favourite books. He read them, and we discussed the merits of some of the characters.
More and more often, I would sit alongside him, and he would put his arm around me, 'for warmth', as he put it. We both knew that if we wanted to be warmer, we could go back inside.
Peter, I decided, was a nice, kind, gentle, sweet boy. A gentleman, in every sense of the word. I liked him just a little more with each passing day.
The Christmas holidays went by in a blur. I spent Christmas Day with my Dad; most every other day, I went out to meet with Peter. We browsed the Market and walked along the Boardwalk, looking out at the sullen winter swells. Occasionally we held hands; most times, we did not, mainly because holding hands with gloves on is unrewarding, and holding hands in a chill breeze without gloves on gets uncomfortable very quickly.
"So how was the gathering?" I asked on one occasion.
"Oh, it was fine," he told me. "Dad asked about you."
"You told him about me?" I was mildly startled. "What did you say?"
"That you were a friend."
I nudged him with my shoulder. "And?"
He grinned. "And that you were a nice girl."
I rolled my eyes. "And what did he say?"
"Told me that he'd like to meet you."
"Oh." I stopped walking; he moved on a couple more steps, then turned and looked back at me.
"What's the matter?"
I took a deep breath of the chill air. "Your dad wants to meet me. What am I supposed to say to that?"
"Anything you want, Taylor," he told me. "He knows we're friends. He knows you're a friend to the Empire. He knows what you've been going through. He wants to say hello, and make sure you know that we're on your side."
"But he's a big wheel in the Empire Eighty-Eight," I pointed out. "I'm not even a member. I'm nobody."
"He is kind of biggish and kind of wheelish," Peter admitted. "But he doesn't want to meet you because of that. He wants to meet you because I like you. Says that you sound like an interesting person."
I snorted. "Yeah, that impression won't last."
"It did with me." His voice was soft, almost lost in the cutting breeze, but I heard him, and my heart lurched in my chest.
"Seriously, Peter," I asked, my own voice rough, "what do you see in me?"
He smiled. "If you have to ask, you'll never believe me."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. Be that way. What are we gonna do about school? They won't have given up, and Bronson can't come back because he's still wanted."
"Kelly's off suspension now," he pointed out. "We keep screwing them around, sooner or later they'll realise that Sophia's pushing them around for her own amusement. With luck, they'll turn on her and we won't have to do a thing."
I was less hopeful. "Sophia's pretty tough."
He tapped me gently on the tip of the nose. "You're tougher. You're better."
I smiled and leaned against him; he put his arm around me. "You say the nicest things."
"It'll be fine, Taylor," he assured me. "You'll see."
January 2011
First day back at school. The corridor was crowded as I made my way through it, Kelly trailing behind. Up ahead, there was even more commotion; people crowding, pointing, making comments.
Around my locker.
I slid through the crowd; there was some benefit to being skinny. Kelly, less so, was left behind. I didn't realise, and I didn't care.
"What the fuck?" I gasped.
Plastered all over my locker, with some having drifted to the floor, were dozens and dozens of photos; Nazi flags, pictures of emaciated people staring through barbed wire, tanks rolling across rivers. Pictures of Hitler giving speeches.
And over it all, a stench, as of something rotten.
Emma and Sophia stood off to the side, smugly satisfied. Oddly, I didn't see Madison anywhere.
"What the fuck is this?" I demanded, looking at Sophia. It was her, of course. It couldn't be anyone else.
But it was Emma who spoke.
"Looks like someone gave you a change in décor, Hebert," she sneered. "Given that you're in the Empire Eighty-Eight. There's your cultural background, right there."
I turned away from her, ripped some of the photos down, threw them to the ground. "I'm not in the Empire," I snapped. "I just want to be left -"
As I spoke, I was unlocking my locker, wanting to see what they'd done to cause the godawful smell.
I saw.
It was a third full of … garbage. Rotting garbage. Food scraps, dirty diapers, sour vomit, and everything else that could possibly cause a distressing smell. There might not have been a dead skunk in there, but I would never have been able to prove it. The smell hit me then, full on, and I bent over to throw up.
That was when Sophia grabbed me by the hair and shoved me into the locker.
The door banged shut, bruising my legs, and I heard the lock click.
I was locked in with the stench and the garbage.
I threw up, right then and there. With fresh vomit on my shirt, I twisted desperately in the tight, dark confines of the locker to bang on the door. "HELP!" I screamed. "HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
I had to inhale after that, and promptly threw up again. The smell was … intense. Invasive. I was treading on things that I didn't want to know about. Squishing under my feet. I would have thrown up a third time, if there was anything left to throw up. I gagged anyway, and retched.
And then I heard a voice outside. Peter's voice. Blessed, blessed Peter.
"Taylor!" he called. "Taylor! What's the combination?"
"HELP! GET ME OUT!" I screamed, near hysteria.
"The lock!" he bellowed. "The combination!"
He wanted the combination to the lock. The lock that would let me out.
The combination is …
Come on, it's …
My mind was a blank, all logical thought chased out by the incredible stench.
"I DON'T KNOW!"
"Taylor! I believe in you! You can do it!"
My mind snapped into focus. I screamed the combination so loudly that my ears rang. Then I retched again.
An interminable time later, the lock clicked open. The door swung wide.
I fell out of the locker, into Peter's arms. Despite the fact that I was covered in vomit and with various noisome substances, he held me tightly.
I clung to him. I never wanted to let him go.
End of Part Two
Part Three
Part Two: Acceptance
It didn't take long before the results of my innocuous text message began to bear results. Two days later, I began to notice the same few boys loitering where I was, going from class to class at the same time. They were never intrusive, never too close for my liking, but they were always there.
And then, as I was going downstairs on the third day, I heard a scuffle behind me. Looking around, I saw Sophia sitting on the steps, one of my shadows between me and her. She was glaring at him; he shrugged and said, "Sorry, didn't see you there."
I quickly pieced it together; she'd been about to trip me down the stairs, and he had intervened, body-checked her into the wall or something. There was no way he'd not seen her; boys drooled over her all the time.
I moved on; I didn't want Sophia knowing I'd seen her like that. The boy followed me to my next class, then paused and murmured, "Peter says hi," before strolling off.
I sat through the class, somewhat stunned. Peter had actually lived up to his word. I was being protected. On one level, I was elated; on another, disturbed. Nothing good happened to me, not these days. There was another shoe waiting to drop, another bolt of lightning waiting to strike. Another price to pay.
None of Emma's cronies were in Mrs Knott's computer class, so I had relative peace and quiet there. Pulling out the phone he'd given me, I dashed off a quick text: Thank you.
Moments later, I got one back; another smiley face. I would have liked to send another text, but Mrs Knott had heard the chime, and was looking my way, so I applied myself to the work.
<><>
That was Friday; on the Monday, things started warming up again.
<><>
It began simply enough; in World Affairs class, Madison's friend Julia tried to get close enough to pour glue on my book. However, someone sitting behind me stuck his foot out, and she tripped; glue splashed all over the floor and all over herself. She got up, hotly accusing me of tripping her. Before I could answer the accusation, the boy behind me stood up.
"Sorry, sir," he addressed Mr Gladly, "it was me. I tripped her."
Mr Gladly looked suspiciously at him, then nodded curtly. "Sit down, and don't do it again." He turned to Madison's friend. "Julia, go and wash yourself off. Why were you carrying an open glue container, anyway?"
She mumbled some sort of excuse and fled; I glanced around to look at the boy, who seemed to be totally engrossed in the lesson at hand; beyond him, I could see Madison glaring at the both of us. I gave her an innocent shrug – I didn't do anything – but it didn't seem to help.
"Hey," he murmured, once Gladly was facing the board. "Swap books?"
I frowned; I wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, but he'd helped me out once, so I passed my book back, and received his in return.
When Julia returned, she came straight over to me, pretended to trip and planted both hands on the open textbook. Then she went on back to Madison, with a satisfied smirk; on the book was a mass of pink hand soap, ruining the page. I stared at it; what the fuck?
But then there was a tap on my shoulder; the boy behind me wanted to swap books back.
"She put soap on it," I hissed.
"I know," he murmured back.
I blinked; if he wanted a damaged textbook …
We swapped books once more, and I kept a surreptitious eye on Madison and Julia from then on. However, it was getting pretty close to the end of the lesson then, so they didn't try anything else.
<><>
I went to the next class after sending another thank-you note to Peter; he sent me yet another smiley face. Once again, I was shadowed to my classroom; I nodded to the boy as he peeled off. He nodded back, ever so slightly. It was a weird feeling; I had bodyguards.
There was no-one to bother me in Mr Quinlan's math class, but my head was still reeling from the realisation that Peter – or someone – was going to some lengths to ensure that I was undisturbed by bullies while at Winslow. But even if Peter hadn't organised it, he had certainly set it in motion.
The trouble started during the lunch hour, when I went upstairs to the girls' bathrooms. I noticed that the boy who had body-checked Sophia was following me; I slowed to let him catch up.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I told him bluntly. "You won't be able to follow me in there."
"Ah," he noted, and pulled out his phone. I watched, mystified, as he sent a text.
"What was that about?" I asked, as he finished.
"Reinforcements." he replied, as we kept going up.
I got to the third floor, and my heart sank. There was a bunch of girls standing around the bathroom door, and I thought I recognised them all. All of them were Emma's friends … or rather, Sophia's patsies. Doing her dirty work, because she saw me as a threat.
Hoping against hope that it was just a coincidence, I approached; however, when they saw me coming, they closed ranks.
"Sorry, Taylor," one of them told me with false sweetness, "but the bathroom's occupied."
"What, by all of you?" I asked disbelievingly.
"Sure," one of her friends added. "You can go down and use the boys' toilets. I'm sure they won't even notice."
The girls laughed, and I felt my face grow hot. "Come on, I need to go to the bathroom," I insisted. "You've had your joke."
But as I tried to push my way forward, they pushed me back again. I glanced back to the boy who had accompanied me, but he was standing off a little way, casually observing us.
Great. Well, I won't get much help out of him, then. Thanks a bunch, Peter.
Just then, Emma emerged from the bathroom, and another girl entered.
"Oh, hi, Taylor," Emma greeted me brightly. "So sorry, the bathrooms seem to be occupied."
I was starting to feel the pressure on my bladder. "Emma," I ground out. "Seriously. Blocking me out of the bathrooms?"
"Oh, we're not blocking you out of the bathrooms," Emma informed me. "But everyone else was here first. You know how it goes."
"Well, I don't know how it goes," a voice behind me observed, "but I am going to the bathroom."
I looked around; a girl had approached the group from the stairs. Blonde, with strong features, she was almost my height, and maybe twice my weight; I figured her for a senior.
Moving toward the little group around the door, she simply didn't stop; they were forced to step aside. Emma didn't move quickly enough, and the girl gave her a jab in the ribs with her elbow; surprised, Emma reeled away. The older girl stopped as she opened the bathroom door, turned to me, and tilted her head in a come-on motion. Jolted to action, I followed her in.
Within, Madison and Sophia were just washing their hands, along with a third girl. They turned to stare as I followed the senior into the bathroom.
"What the fuck are you doing in here, Hebert?" demanded Sophia.
"Going to the bathroom," I retorted. "What did you fucking think? Waiting for the fucking train?"
In the silence that followed, Madison's jaw slowly dropped; Sophia's suffused with anger. At the same time, I saw the senior going along the row of cubicles, pulling on the doors. The second one opened, and she held it that way, a clear invitation to me.
"You do not fucking talk to me that way," Sophia growled.
"I'll talk to you any way I fucking like … bitch," I replied, giving her the finger. Not giving her a chance to reply, I entered the cubicle and locked it behind me.
<><>
Despite the urgency of my bladder, it took me a little while to calm down enough to actually pee; by the time I finished and got out of there, the bathroom was empty, save for the senior.
"Where'd they all go?" I asked as I washed my hands.
She shrugged. "Decided they had better places to be, I guess."
"Well, uh, thanks," I told her. "I appreciate it."
She smiled briefly. "Any time to help a sister out. Besides, Peter asked me to."
I cleared my throat. "I … uh … is Peter someone special? He seems to have a lot of influence … ?"
She tilted her head to one side. "Peter is … Peter. He's a good guy, in case you're wondering."
"But … why's he helping me?" I asked; a question I had posed myself a few times in the last hour. "I'm no-one special."
"Everyone's special," she told me. "But most people can take care of their own problems. Peter saw that your problems were overwhelming you, through no fault of your own, and he likes you, so he asked for help."
"Because I'm a sister," I repeated the term, perhaps just a little sarcastically.
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't knock it. When they try to push you out of where you belong, when they try to tell you that you don't deserve what you've worked for, because of some government equal-opportunity bullshit, you'll be glad to have a brother or a sister at your side to help you out."
"Oh, I appreciate it," I told her. "I'm grateful as hell. I just don't know if I've earned this sort of help."
She smiled as she shook her head. "You don't earn it. You accept it, and pass it on to the next sister or brother who needs it." She held out her hand. "Jenna."
"Oh, uh, Taylor." I shook her hand; she had a strong, firm grip. "And really, thanks."
She shrugged. "Hey, help out a sister sometime, and we'll be even."
We exited the bathroom; my shadow was loitering near the stairwell. Jenna gave him a nod as we neared him. "Kelly."
"Jenna," he replied. "Thanks for stepping in."
"Any time," she responded, bumping fists with him. "See you round. And you too, Taylor."
"See you round, Jenna," I told her, and watched as she went down the stairwell two at a time.
I checked my watch. "Shit, I won't have time to get through the lunch line."
"We figured as much," Kelly told me easily as he strolled down the steps. "Bronson's in the lunch line now. He's getting what you had with Peter that time. Peter'll meet you out at the front steps with it; that okay?"
I stopped, my jaw dropping slowly. Kelly turned to look at me. "What?"
"Why?" I stared at him. "Why me?"
He shrugged. "Peter says you're a sister, so you get protection. I don't know what those bitches have against you, and it's none of my business. I'm just here to make sure shit doesn't go down."
I fumbled money out of my purse. "Give this to Bronson, whoever he is. I pay for my own meals."
"Sure," he agreed, accepting it. "Gonna meet Peter out on the steps?"
I nodded. "Yeah. The steps."
<><>
"Hey, Taylor."
I turned around as Peter pushed open the school doors and joined me at the steps. "Peter."
He sat down just close enough to pass me my lunch, then looked at me quizzically. "From your less than overjoyed expression, you've got a beef with me."
"Yeah." I reconsidered. "No, not really." Closing my eyes, I let my head bump back against the concrete wall. "Fuck, I don't know."
"And now that we've cleared that up … " he murmured, sounding amused.
I opened my eyes and glared at him. "Don't you fucking start."
He shrugged. "Taylor. I just got here. I'm really pleased to see you, but please don't come over all pissed at me without actually telling me what I've done."
Conflicting emotions chased through me. He's pleased to see me. A warm flush spread through my chest. This was followed by embarrassment and guilt; I had snapped at him for no good reason.
I took one deep breath, then another. "I'm just a bit unsettled, I guess. And kind of weirded out."
"Why is that?" His expression was polite, his tone mildly curious.
"Because of Kelly, and Jenna, and Bronson, and the others," I burst out. "They're actually helping me. Getting in the way of the bullies. Stopping shit from happening."
One of his eyebrows raised slightly. "And this is a bad thing?"
"No, but I didn't expect it to happen like this," I confessed. "Not like I'd have bodyguards running interference for me."
He looked somewhat bemused. "Well, how did you expect it to work?"
"I don't know!" I paused and lowered my voice. "I don't know. I don't even know if I really expected it to work. I know I didn't expect anything this blatant."
"Well, I'd prefer it that way too," he assured me. "But those bitches are pretty determined to get to you. Bitch-face must be pushing them hard."
I shook my head. "I don't even know what I did to piss her off. I'd spoken to her about once, before school started. She was a bitch to me then. I'd never even met her before."
Peter nodded sympathetically. "Emma was your friend back then, right?"
"Yeah," I told him. "I went on summer camp, and visited Emma when I got back. Sophia was there, and she told me to fuck off, and Emma -" I paused, breathing deeply. "Sorry. Emma just looked at me. Like I was a stranger. Told me that she'd basically outgrown me."
"Oh, that's easy then." Peter's voice was light.
I frowned. "What?"
"Sure." He sat forward and twisted around so as to face me. "Emma's popular. Well, she's good-looking, her dad's got money, and she's got a strong personality. Which pretty well translates to 'popular', yeah?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted. "But I was never interested in all that. She was just my best friend."
His beaming smile lit up his face, and caused my heart to lurch, just a little. "That's just one of the things I really like about you, Taylor. You're so genuine. You don't do the bullshit thing."
I found myself flushing, and there was a lump in my throat. "Uh, Peter," I managed, "you were talking about Sophia?"
He nodded. "Yeah. See, she meets Emma. Emma's popular, she wants to get in on the popular thing, so she gets her hooks into her. She's kind of good-looking, if you're into that sort of thing, and she probably fed Emma a line of bullshit about how cool she was. Meanwhile, she's just using Emma to pretend that she's better than she is. So when you show up, Emma's actual friend, she's got to get rid of you fast, before you uncover her for the lying parasite she really is."
I thought about that. The warmth that had filled me from Peter's compliment had drained away completely, leaving me with a cold empty place inside. It made sense; it made a lot of sense.
"So, what you were saying, earlier, about Sophia knowing that I'm better than her ... "
"Well, duh," he replied, with a warm chuckle. "She's a lot of things, but she's not fucking stupid. Of course you're better than her. If she let Emma see that for even a moment ... "
"You're saying that Emma would be my friend again?" I wasn't sure what was in the tone of my voice.
He shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe she's bought too much into the black-is-better thing. In any case, would you really want to be friends with a turncoat race traitor who would dump a friendship of years to be with a manipulative black bitch like Sophia?"
Tentatively, I shook my head. "I ... I guess not."
"Of course not," he agreed. "It's this sort of thing that teaches you who your real friends are."
Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
He tilted his head. "I detect a note of doubt in your voice. What's up?"
I took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "I really don't want you to think that I'm not grateful, because I really am, but ... "
My voice trailed off, and he looked at me understandingly. "But you're wondering what it's all about, yeah?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted awkwardly. "You're getting your friends to protect me, and it's really nice, but I can't help wondering where the price tag is in all this. Like, you protect me for a while, until I'm used to it, then you tell me that it'll all go away unless I do something for you, like, uh, commit to joining the Empire, or give you some money, or ... " I blushed again, involuntarily.Sleep with you.
"Or that you have to be my girlfriend?" he finished for me, teasingly.
"Uh, yeah, that," I agreed gratefully. He knows damn well what I meant, but he's being nice.
He shook his head. "Taylor," he told me, his voice firm and warm and sincere, "we would never do that to you. I would never do that to you. I mean, sure, I'd love to be your boyfriend – and I do mean just your boyfriend – but I'd never coerce you into a relationship. Or anything else. That would be totally up to you. And as for the rest of it ... well, you have to want to join the Empire. I can't make you do that. Nor would I even try. And you're a friend of the Empire. We don't extort money from our friends."
Stunned, I was unable to talk. He just said he'd like to be my boyfriend.
I didn't know what to think of that. On the one hand, he was a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. On the other, he was good looking, polite, nice to me, and was organising his friends to make sure I didn't get bullied. In short, he was treating me like a girlfriend should be treated, without even being my boyfriend.
"Taylor?" he asked.
I blinked, and realised that I'd been staring at him for about thirty seconds without speaking. "Uh, sorry?"
He grinned. It was sweet, it was cute, it was engaging, and it was aimed at me. I hadn't realised until right then how much I liked his grin.
"I was just asking if there was anything else you were worried about," he explained.
"Um," I began, "if I wanted out … would there be any trouble?"
"Nope," he assured me. "Just tell me, and it's done." He tilted his head. "Do you want out?"
I thought about that for just a few seconds, then shook my head decisively. "Not unless things change," I told him. "I still don't see what's so special about me, but you're doing what you said you would, and oh god you have no idea what it feels like for me to know that someone else is on my side."
"I actually think I do," he replied simply. "I'm a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Doesn't matter that I'm still a teenager. I need a hand, someone's got my back. Any hour of the day, I really need it, all I gotta do is make one phone call, and there'll be someone there to help." He grinned at me. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It does. It really does." I looked back at him. "And there's no price I have to pay? Really?"
"Only what you can afford," he told me. "And only what you're willing and able to do. Right now you haven't got much; I get that. But if you see one of our guys getting a hard time from the ABB or the Merchants, you call me. Or if we need a message passed along, you could do that. Nothing illegal; just, you know, stuff. Help us out. Little favours."
I thought about this. It seemed reasonable. "Bronson and Jenna and Kelly, they're putting it on the line for me," I pointed out. "Sophia might convince some of the boys or girls to beat them up or something, so they can't protect me."
He smiled. "They can try. The Empire takes care of its own."
"And you take care of me, too," I agreed.
A serious nod. "We take care of our friends."
I shifted along the step until I was sitting alongside him. He looked at me curiously. Carefully, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't make any motion to touch me, to kiss me back; he just smiled at me. "You're welcome," he murmured in return. "But hey, if you're interested, we've got a gathering coming up in December. You're invited, if you want to come along."
"I, uh -" I was suddenly unsure. It felt like a huge step. I knew Peter, and I'd met Kelly and Bronson and Jenna. Meeting more people from the Empire Eighty-Eight …
"Your choice," he assured me. "No pressure. You don't want to come, you don't come."
I took a breath. "I … it's okay if I don't want to come?"
A nod. "Totally."
"Then … yeah, I think I'll pass this time. Thanks anyway." I smiled uncertainly. "We can still hang out, right?"
He laughed, cheerful and carefree. "Oh god yes. Did you think I'd be offended or something?"
"Um … maybe?"
Another chuckle. "Nope. I like you. That doesn't depend on you coming to gatherings."
"And it's okay if I don't want to be your girlfriend?" I pressed. The word Yet bobbed up into my mind. I shooed it away.
He eyed me with a raised eyebrow. "I'd be worried if you wanted to be my girlfriend just so you could be with the 'in' group. No, it's fine. I like us just the way we are."
"The 'in' group?" I asked curiously.
"Some of us kids," he explained casually. "Our parents are better connected in the Empire than others. There's not really a ranking system, but we've got sort of higher status. It's why I can ask Bronson and Kelly and Jenna to help you out. Dad says it's good practice for when I get older."
I nodded. "So you are more important. I thought so."
He gave me a shrug in return, though I caught a quickly-hidden half-smile; he seemed to be pleased that I'd figured it out. "I don't like to make a huge deal out of it."
"So tell me something, Peter-who-pretends-not-to-be-important," I began, "if I came to a gathering with you, I'd be just your guest, right?"
He nodded. "Right."
"Would they assume that we were involved, just because I came with you?" I watched his face carefully.
"Hell, no," he replied cheerfully. "Grandpa would've been be put out if I showed up with a girlfriend who wasn't Empire, but he was always old-fashioned."
I tilted my head. "Would have been?"
He took a breath. "Died a few years ago. My uncle took over the family business."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I told him immediately. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one. My mom … "
I trailed off; even two years on, it was still painful to refer to it.
His arm went around my shoulders for the first time; lightly, gently, giving me the chance to pull away.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I leaned against him, my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I felt warm and safe. Almost as safe as I felt with my Dad.
But Peter can do more to protect me. The thought felt vaguely treacherous, even if it was true.
We sat that way until the bell rang.
<><>
December 2010
"Hey, Taylor!"
I looked around; Emma stood there, flanked by Sophia and Madison. I turned back around, kept walking.
"Taylor, I'm talking to you!"
Frowning, I turned back. Bronson faded into the background as I did so. "For fuck's sake, Emma, what?"
Sophia glowered and took a step forward at my tone; Emma murmured something to her and she stopped. Then Emma raised her voice. "You know that boy you've been hanging out with? Peter Ferguson?"
I nodded. It wasn't exactly a secret that he and I ate lunch on the steps every day. "Yeah, so?"
"Did you know he's Empire Eighty-Eight?" With an expression of triumph on her face, she watched my expression, looking for the shock, the denial.
"Is that all you wanted to say?" I asked. "Seriously?"
I turned away from her and headed down the hallway. Bronson was shadowing me today, because Kelly had been suspended after getting in Sophia's way once too often. I'd apologised to Kelly; he had shrugged and told me it was worth it.
"It's true!" she yelled after me. "Are you a fucking racist bigot as well as a loser, Hebert?"
I stopped and turned around. Slowly, I walked back to Emma. Face to face, we traded glares. I knew that Bronson was nearby, ready to interpose if things got physical.
"I'd rather be a fucking loser than to take my orders from Sophia fucking Hess, any day of the week," I told her flatly. "The moment you want to stop being that bitch's hand puppet, come see me."
"Hey!" yelled Sophia. "That's fucking enough!" She swung her hand at me, open, ready to deliver a stinging slap. I went to dodge away, but it wasn't necessary; Sophia's wrist slapped into Bronson's hand.
"You don't touch Taylor," he rumbled. As he was about my height, and heavier than Jenna, he had a certain physical presence about him.
"Let go of me!" snapped Sophia, wrenching her hand from his grasp. She glared at him; he glowered back.
Emma stared from me to Bronson and back again. "The fuck?" she muttered. "Taylor, have you really fucking joined the Empire Eighty-Eight?"
"No, Emma, I really fucking haven't," I retorted. "I've just got friends now. Friends you can't frighten away. So you can fuck off and leave me alone, or the next time you and your little friends try to get up in my grille, I'm going to punch your fucking lights out."
"Touch me," Emma told me triumphantly, "and my dad will sue your dad into a fucking smoking crater."
I stared at her, trying to see in her the best friend I had once had. She wasn't in there; not any more. The Emma that I had known was dead and gone.
"That's low," I told her. "Fucking low. But then, I bet you learned it from Sophia."
Turning, I took two steps away from her. That was when something smashed into the back of my head, sent me sprawling forward on to the linoleum, head ringing. My glasses had gone somewhere, I didn't know where. Waves of blackness came and went. I heard shouts, screaming, bellows from Bronson.
I was still struggling to get my arms and legs into working order when I felt strong hands helping me up.
"Bronson?" I mumbled.
"That's me," he agreed. "Let's get you to the infirmary."
"Glasses," I slurred. "Came off."
"Shit," he muttered. I vaguely saw him looking around, then he bent down and picked something up. They were my glasses, but someone had stood on them; the frame was bent. Carefully, he bent them back into something approximating normality, and fitted them on to my face.
"Better?" he asked.
"'s'better," I agreed woozily. "Wha'hoppen?"
"She hit you in the back of the head," he stated flatly. "When your back was turned."
I turned my head dazedly, not sure why she would have stopped at hitting me once. The crowd parted briefly, and I saw her lying on the floor. Blood pooled nearby.
"Bronson?" I asked, alarm cutting through the clouds of confusion in my head. "What did you do?"
"Punched her," he growled. "And kicked her a few times."
"Call Peter," I mumbled.
"It's okay," he assured me. "I got this."
"No," I insisted. "Call. Peter. Now."
Because splitting headache or no, concussion or no, I knew that all the shit in the world was going to pour down on Bronson's head. I didn't know exactly why, but I knew that it was.
<><>
Peter arrived at the infirmary, as the nurse was examining me. He consulted in low tones with Bronson, and nodded; Bronson got up and left. The nurse ignored the byplay and shone a light into my left eye.
"Hmm," she murmured. "Concussion. Mild." She looked at my face. "Split skin on your jaw. Bump on the back of your head. What happened?"
"Sophia Hess hit me in the back of the head," I stated grimly. "I hit my jaw on the ground."
She stared at me. "Sophia Hess? The girl who does track?"
Yeah, the black bullying bitch who does track, can't possibly do anything wrong, I thought sourly.
"Yes," I confirmed. "The girl who does track."
"Why did she hit you?" she pressed.
"I had an argument with one of her friends."
She looked troubled. "Has anyone told the principal about this?"
"I'd say she knows," Peter put in dryly. "An ambulance just showed up to take Sophia away to the hospital."
My head jerked up, and the nurse scolded me. "Please keep still."
"Wow, that was fast," I muttered, letting the nurse check my right eye.
"It was," she agreed. "Sometimes we've waited an hour or more for an ambulance to get here for injured children." She paused. "Wait, what happened to her?"
"Police are here too," Peter noted, with gloomy satisfaction.
"Wait, seriously?" I stared at him. "One little tiny brawl, and we get an ambulance and police here in the time it normally takes someone to drive out of the parking lot?"
"What happened to Sophia Hess?" insisted the nurse.
"I didn't see," I told her honestly. "I was flat on my face, and my glasses were being trod on at the time." I indicated my obviously-bent glasses on the tray next to me.
"Oh." She didn't ask me any more questions.
<><>
The police, however, wanted to ask me lots of questions.
I was escorted into a conference room, and a female police officer sat down opposite me. "I'm Detective Graves," she informed me. "I understand you witnessed the event?"
At this moment, a male officer pushed the door open and pulled a chair up next to Graves. He chose not to identify himself. I looked from one to the other.
"What?" I asked. "Don't I get a school counsellor to sit with me?"
"She's busy," the officer told me shortly.
"Then I'm going to sleep. Someone call my Dad?" I laid my head down on the table, on my crossed arms.
"Hey, kid, this is a serious matter," the male officer snapped. "She was seriously injured."
"Good," I mumbled.
"Good?" He was on his feet, shouting. "GOOD?"
I raised my head. "Yeah. Good. Because I'm the one she punched in the back of the fucking head and gave a concussion to, just before she got the shit kicked out of her. Now fuck off and call my Dad before I choose to sue the school, the police department and everyone in between."
Closing my eyes, I laid my head back down on my arms.
They didn't ask me any questions after that, either.
<><>
I stayed home for a couple of days, until my head stopped aching at the slightest noise. Dad stayed home as well, fussing over me.
"But what happened, kiddo?" he asked me worriedly. "Why would this Sophia Hess hit you like that?"
I sighed; the cat would be out of the bag soon enough. "Because she hates me, Dad."
His brow creased. "But what did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything," I stressed. I wanted to explain to him how she found me a threat to the hold she had on Emma, but that would involve explaining that Emma was no longer my friend, and that she had threatened to have Mr Barnes sue Dad … it was too big a can of worms. Better not to open it at all.
"I'm not blind, kiddo," he told me after a moment. "I knew when you broke your glasses and came home with that black eye. I've seen the other times you came home with bruises. I gave you your space, gave you time to tell me. But you never did. Is something happening at school? Is someone picking on you?"
I took a deep breath. "People were," I admitted. "But not any more. They've got friends, and I've got friends, and we leave each other alone."
"Except that this Sophia Hess punched you in the back of the head, and then ended up in the hospital with broken bones," he told me flatly. "That's more than a schoolyard scuffle."
"I didn't pick it," I told him honestly. "But maybe it's done, now."
I didn't believe that myself, but it was something I could hope for.
He frowned worriedly, and hugged me; I hugged him back. "Listen, if anything else happens at school like that, tell a teacher. Tell the principal," he urged me.
I shook my head. "She's the golden girl there. She was the one who assaulted me, and they were going to interrogate me like I was the criminal. And the last time I spoke to Principal Blackwell about this sort of shit, she didn't do a damn thing."
"Okay, then tell me," he decided. "I'll take it to the media if I have to. I can't let this go on."
"Okay, Dad," I agreed. "I'll do that." I knew that I wouldn't. But I'd make the promise if it made him happy.
The only people who could protect me at school were the Empire Eighty-Eight.
<><>
Peter's smile was broad. "Taylor," he greeted me. "You're back."
"I am," I agreed, sitting down beside him on the steps. "Still a bit headachey, but I'm good. Better than I was."
"Bronson had to bolt before they arrested him." His voice was low. "Good call on that, by the way."
"Thought there might be trouble over that," I agreed. "And Sophia?"
"You wouldn't fucking believe it," he growled. "Back in the next day, not a hair out of place."
I blinked. "How the hell?"
"Panacea's my guess." He shook his head. "Someone's got serious pull to get her in at short notice."
"Dammit," I muttered. "It's never going to end, is it?"
"Oh, it'll end, one way or the other," he observed. "But in the meantime, we just keep on going."
"Kelly's still suspended, and the cops are looking for Bronson," I noted. "Before this all started, Emma was saying how you were Empire. How would she have figured that out?"
Peter grimaced. "Fuck. It's not exactly a secret, but I would have preferred that it not get out. You didn't say anything, of course." I felt warm inside; he was stating a fact, not asking a question.
"Not a thing," I replied with a grin. "Waved the concussion flag. Emma's dad once told me that cops can't get legal statements from someone under the influence of alcohol or a concussion."
"Nicely done." I smiled at the praise. "It does leave us a bit short-handed, though. I might have to bring in someone else."
"Fuck it," I told him. "I can tough it out till Christmas."
"And Kelly's suspension will be over after that," he agreed. "Good. You can handle it?"
"If Bronson can beat the living shit out of Sophia Hess, I can handle myself for a couple of weeks," I assured him.
"Maybe you should start sitting with the other guys," he suggested. He meant the ones with the buzz-cuts, of course. The ones wearing the colours. "Send a message. Show them that you're with the Empire now, and to fuck with you is to fuck with us."
I shook my head. "Sorry. Not really ready to take that step yet."
A light shrug. "Your choice."
I smiled at him. "Thanks. Could you do me a favour? Thank Bronson for me?"
"Consider it done," he assured me. "He'll be glad to hear you're doing well."
I took his hand and squeezed it. "You're a good friend, Peter," I told him. "I appreciate it."
"Hey," he replied lightly, squeezing my hand back. "Anything for a sister."
<><>
Oddly enough, the last two weeks before the Christmas holidays were the easiest that I'd had all year. Sophia backed right off, and her patsies stood down as well. I figured that maybe the beatdown that Bronson had inflicted on Sophia had given her second thoughts.
Every time I passed her in the halls, she glared at me, but did nothing else. I tried to give her glare for glare, but I doubted that she was intimidated.
Emma was less mouthy, but she still got in the occasional jab. I ignored her; she'd done worse. To my mild surprise, she left out the comments about the Empire Eighty-Eight. Maybe it had been a wild guess after all?
I ate lunch outside on the steps with Peter each day; it was my time to enjoy myself with someone nice. Sometimes we swapped lunches, just for the hell of it, and I recommended him some of my favourite books. He read them, and we discussed the merits of some of the characters.
More and more often, I would sit alongside him, and he would put his arm around me, 'for warmth', as he put it. We both knew that if we wanted to be warmer, we could go back inside.
Peter, I decided, was a nice, kind, gentle, sweet boy. A gentleman, in every sense of the word. I liked him just a little more with each passing day.
<><>
The Christmas holidays went by in a blur. I spent Christmas Day with my Dad; most every other day, I went out to meet with Peter. We browsed the Market and walked along the Boardwalk, looking out at the sullen winter swells. Occasionally we held hands; most times, we did not, mainly because holding hands with gloves on is unrewarding, and holding hands in a chill breeze without gloves on gets uncomfortable very quickly.
"So how was the gathering?" I asked on one occasion.
"Oh, it was fine," he told me. "Dad asked about you."
"You told him about me?" I was mildly startled. "What did you say?"
"That you were a friend."
I nudged him with my shoulder. "And?"
He grinned. "And that you were a nice girl."
I rolled my eyes. "And what did he say?"
"Told me that he'd like to meet you."
"Oh." I stopped walking; he moved on a couple more steps, then turned and looked back at me.
"What's the matter?"
I took a deep breath of the chill air. "Your dad wants to meet me. What am I supposed to say to that?"
"Anything you want, Taylor," he told me. "He knows we're friends. He knows you're a friend to the Empire. He knows what you've been going through. He wants to say hello, and make sure you know that we're on your side."
"But he's a big wheel in the Empire Eighty-Eight," I pointed out. "I'm not even a member. I'm nobody."
"He is kind of biggish and kind of wheelish," Peter admitted. "But he doesn't want to meet you because of that. He wants to meet you because I like you. Says that you sound like an interesting person."
I snorted. "Yeah, that impression won't last."
"It did with me." His voice was soft, almost lost in the cutting breeze, but I heard him, and my heart lurched in my chest.
"Seriously, Peter," I asked, my own voice rough, "what do you see in me?"
He smiled. "If you have to ask, you'll never believe me."
I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. Be that way. What are we gonna do about school? They won't have given up, and Bronson can't come back because he's still wanted."
"Kelly's off suspension now," he pointed out. "We keep screwing them around, sooner or later they'll realise that Sophia's pushing them around for her own amusement. With luck, they'll turn on her and we won't have to do a thing."
I was less hopeful. "Sophia's pretty tough."
He tapped me gently on the tip of the nose. "You're tougher. You're better."
I smiled and leaned against him; he put his arm around me. "You say the nicest things."
"It'll be fine, Taylor," he assured me. "You'll see."
<><>
January 2011
First day back at school. The corridor was crowded as I made my way through it, Kelly trailing behind. Up ahead, there was even more commotion; people crowding, pointing, making comments.
Around my locker.
I slid through the crowd; there was some benefit to being skinny. Kelly, less so, was left behind. I didn't realise, and I didn't care.
"What the fuck?" I gasped.
Plastered all over my locker, with some having drifted to the floor, were dozens and dozens of photos; Nazi flags, pictures of emaciated people staring through barbed wire, tanks rolling across rivers. Pictures of Hitler giving speeches.
And over it all, a stench, as of something rotten.
Emma and Sophia stood off to the side, smugly satisfied. Oddly, I didn't see Madison anywhere.
"What the fuck is this?" I demanded, looking at Sophia. It was her, of course. It couldn't be anyone else.
But it was Emma who spoke.
"Looks like someone gave you a change in décor, Hebert," she sneered. "Given that you're in the Empire Eighty-Eight. There's your cultural background, right there."
I turned away from her, ripped some of the photos down, threw them to the ground. "I'm not in the Empire," I snapped. "I just want to be left -"
As I spoke, I was unlocking my locker, wanting to see what they'd done to cause the godawful smell.
I saw.
It was a third full of … garbage. Rotting garbage. Food scraps, dirty diapers, sour vomit, and everything else that could possibly cause a distressing smell. There might not have been a dead skunk in there, but I would never have been able to prove it. The smell hit me then, full on, and I bent over to throw up.
That was when Sophia grabbed me by the hair and shoved me into the locker.
The door banged shut, bruising my legs, and I heard the lock click.
I was locked in with the stench and the garbage.
<><>
I threw up, right then and there. With fresh vomit on my shirt, I twisted desperately in the tight, dark confines of the locker to bang on the door. "HELP!" I screamed. "HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
I had to inhale after that, and promptly threw up again. The smell was … intense. Invasive. I was treading on things that I didn't want to know about. Squishing under my feet. I would have thrown up a third time, if there was anything left to throw up. I gagged anyway, and retched.
And then I heard a voice outside. Peter's voice. Blessed, blessed Peter.
"Taylor!" he called. "Taylor! What's the combination?"
"HELP! GET ME OUT!" I screamed, near hysteria.
"The lock!" he bellowed. "The combination!"
He wanted the combination to the lock. The lock that would let me out.
The combination is …
Come on, it's …
My mind was a blank, all logical thought chased out by the incredible stench.
"I DON'T KNOW!"
"Taylor! I believe in you! You can do it!"
My mind snapped into focus. I screamed the combination so loudly that my ears rang. Then I retched again.
An interminable time later, the lock clicked open. The door swung wide.
I fell out of the locker, into Peter's arms. Despite the fact that I was covered in vomit and with various noisome substances, he held me tightly.
I clung to him. I never wanted to let him go.
End of Part Two
Part Three
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john doe
Not too sore, are you?
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Most believable recruitment into E88 I have read, I am both happy and sad reading it...
Even the reason they decided to get close to her is realistic in Brockton bay considering how competitive the jobs are supposed to be at the docks (are any of the friends danny mentions who are dockworkers black or Asian, that might be a problem with this plan)
Peter will be happy, he gets close to her so her dad can get "friends" of E88 more work at the docks and they end up getting a new parahuman.
Even the reason they decided to get close to her is realistic in Brockton bay considering how competitive the jobs are supposed to be at the docks (are any of the friends danny mentions who are dockworkers black or Asian, that might be a problem with this plan)
Peter will be happy, he gets close to her so her dad can get "friends" of E88 more work at the docks and they end up getting a new parahuman.
Prince Charon
Just zis guy, you know?
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Exactly. BB was unusually shitty compared to an average RL US city.
Snake/Eater
Myth Maker of the North
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Don't worry,where one door closes.... another one opens...
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MadGreenSon
Verified Devil Tiger, The Childish Yandere
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Yet. Taylor didn't trigger yet.
This story would be a great place for her to trigger with a Master/Blaster variation that I thought of, but I'm sure that Ack has his bases covered on
The discounts at Nazi owned businesses?
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Oh, most definitely.Don't worry,where one dooe closes.... another one opens...
edale
Versed in the lewd.
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So Sophia just attacks Taylor from behind, and no one in authority asks a single question about the fact that Sophia attacked Taylor, focusing solely on the 'attack' on Sophia -- which, btw, is legally 100% self-defense (defense of another is considered the same as self-defense, legally) -- Now making the POLICE accessories, through negligence, to the illegal behavior of Sophia.
And do the police's stance seem to scream that they know Sophia's a Ward? The police aren't supposed to have that info, if they find out a cape's involved in any capacity the PRT's called in.
There should have been an interview set up for Taylor after the concussion healed, especially given the fact that she was injured to begin with. Any detective worth their salt would be sure to get an interview from EVERYONE who was injured in the incident.
Also, the school SERIOUSLY fucked up by not sending Taylor to the hospital as well. That one could potentially cost the school nurse her job (if any complications arose from the concussion). ANY head injury that has a potential effect on the brain requires the school to send the student to the hospital, even a minor concussion requires the school to send the student to the hospital for tests. This one may not actually be written out as a law, but it is a liability thing required by the insurance companies, which in some ways makes it MORE important to follow, lol.
Even a minor concussion comes with the possibility of a brain hemorrhage after all, and if they don't send the student to the hospital, and the student dies or suffers serious consequences as a result... The insurance won't cover the wrongful death lawsuit, and no school has the millions of dollars to spare to handle that themselves.
The main job of an insurance policy, in the insurance company's mind, is to make sure someone else is responsible for anything that happens that they might need pay for. This means businesses and ESPECIALLY government institutions (like a public school) do everything they can to follow them to the letter... and this is stuff enforced from MUCH higher on the food chain than Blackwell.
Also, any EMT, nurse, or even primary care physician, that waves a a flashlight in your eyes to check for a concussion, and gets a positive response knows that it means to send them to the professionals; because they're not qualified to deal with brain injuries.
And now Sophia, herself, is guilty of an outright hate crime, in front of dozens of witnesses. A hate crime is in a whole different league than a "prank gone wrong." And it's fully possible some of the witnesses were E88 (oh yea, btw, Sophia and Emma just became E88 enemy #1 with THIS stunt; even if it wasn't on someone they were protecting or involved with, this was an outright attack on E88, and requires a response).
And Madison herself seems to have not participated in this one; I'm curious whether this was because of the new content to the "prank," or her doing the smart thing and backing off after Sophia got beat down.
I greatly look forward to Blackwell's response to THIS (is the shitstorm finally here? Please tell me the shitstorm's finally here). Also, please include an interlude where you show Piggot learning about everything. I wanna know what she knows and, more importantly, what she doesn't know... and her reaction to, I guess
.
As a side note... I don't often use "--", did I use them correctly?
*edit- tried spoilering the quote blocks, but it cut off the quotes and you couldn't expand them...
Also added in a fairly significant point about the police's attitude.
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Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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The PRT was contacted, and they told the cops to find out who attacked Sophia as their main priority.
This was written by Raikor on SB, but it basically covers the points I wanted to make:
The interview would have gone through, and Taylor would have told the cops that she thought Sophia was the culprit, but as she didn't see her (and as the above story was making the rounds) nothing would have come of it.
This is Winslow. They paid off Danny just enough to get out of a lawsuit, in canon. They don't care.
Danny may well have taken her to the hospital himself.
Yes. It does.
Yeah, she went, "Empire Eighty-Eight? This isn't fun any more."
Shitstorm is coming in hard.I greatly look forward to Blackwell's response to THIS (is the shitstorm finally here? Please tell me the shitstorm's finally here). Also, please include an interlude where you show Piggot learning about everything. I wanna know what she knows and, more importantly, what she doesn't know... and her reaction to, I guess
So, Taylor avoids the trigger (or does she? Possible Thinker Trigger there -- and it's got all the right elements -- but no disorientation, so I doubt it). I hope it's not going to be a Taylor without powers fic, and wait with baited breath (and mild horror) as to what Taylor's Trigger will be (perhaps finding out Peter's been playing her from the start).
Has not yet triggered.
Looks good.
The police higher-ups were told to specifically find out about who hit Sophia. The terms "Empire Eighty-Eight" and "hate crime" were bandied about.
edale
Versed in the lewd.
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Good, good.
possibly one more than one front, and on that note:
Please tell me Quinn Calle is involved. Even better, Carol on Sohpia's side. Calle vs Carol with Calle on the side of 'truth and justice', oh the irony.
theonebutcher
Hahaha! ... Waitaminute... Oh God NO!
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Taylor would be more differentiated. She would omit the "black" in black bitch, at the very least in her inner monologue, maybe justify to herself, that she's making a deal with the devil out of simple pragmatism. maybe telling herself that peter is simply repeating what he grew up with, that he's a Nazi not out of hate, but out of tradition. That she can't fault him for helping his parents.
GiftofLove
A Gift From The Heart
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People think hateful things about enemies. Even if they're not racist, they'll use racist language because it has bite. I don't think Taylor ever does, but I can see her doing it with encouragement.
Its ok if it's X, essentially.
Its ok if it's X, essentially.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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What we see and hear changes us. Even if we don't really approve of it or think about it. Peter showed approval of her using the word 'black' (note he did not use the word 'nigger' after the first time) and so it crops up when she thinks about Sophia. Because on some level, even though she still doesn't really approve of the E88's methods and goals, she likes Peter and wants his approval.
edale
Versed in the lewd.
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Don't you just hate mob/pack mentality? And EVERYONE thinks they can avoid it, that their smart enough to not fall prey to it. The fact of the matter is it's such an instinctual thing that we don't even notice it happening. Even when we've completely fallen under it's sway, we still think our thought are purely our own, not even realizing the changes have happened.
After all, our conscious, logical mind is 100% left-brained, and our emotions and instincts are almost completely right-brained. The two hemispheres of the brain don't communicate with each other very well, but the influence is impossible to deny.
After all, our conscious, logical mind is 100% left-brained, and our emotions and instincts are almost completely right-brained. The two hemispheres of the brain don't communicate with each other very well, but the influence is impossible to deny.
theonebutcher
Hahaha! ... Waitaminute... Oh God NO!
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Yeah, but there are many people who can do it and even more can learn. I never bought a Pokemon Card or smoked a cigarette or drank any alcohol.(Apart from one time when I turned 16 as a conscious decision to try.) Sure, there were always negative social reactions, but I knew what they were and ignored them. Lost some friends that way, in that a third of our social group disliked me, but I always preferred it.
Taylor wouldn't. She needs those relationships, she's starved for companionship.
Taylor could easily become an E88 member in this way. But her inner monologue wouldn't be like that. Falling in line with him in her own thoughts this way is... unlike Taylor.
Taylor wouldn't. She needs those relationships, she's starved for companionship.
Taylor could easily become an E88 member in this way. But her inner monologue wouldn't be like that. Falling in line with him in her own thoughts this way is... unlike Taylor.
GiftofLove
A Gift From The Heart
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Cops and Robbers.
I don't think so. Taylor has proven that she is a normal person in this regard, of believing something if it justifies her.
It was ok to rob that bank because she was a Secret Agent, and it's ok to put all those civilians at risk and beat the shit out of heroes because it's just a big game, you know? For fun.
Taylor hates Sophia. Instead of having to feel self conscious when she voices it, she gets back positive feedback. This happens for months. Without noticing she starts using harsher language. Meaner slurs.
I don't think so. Taylor has proven that she is a normal person in this regard, of believing something if it justifies her.
It was ok to rob that bank because she was a Secret Agent, and it's ok to put all those civilians at risk and beat the shit out of heroes because it's just a big game, you know? For fun.
Taylor hates Sophia. Instead of having to feel self conscious when she voices it, she gets back positive feedback. This happens for months. Without noticing she starts using harsher language. Meaner slurs.
MadGreenSon
Verified Devil Tiger, The Childish Yandere
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Thus the title of the 'fic.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Note that Taylor has not yet triggered. We never get a first-hand look at Taylor pre-trigger. Her trigger changed her. Her shard began to influence her thoughts from day one, and a corollary of this is that her thoughts were less able to be molded by outside influences. This Taylor here? Even more desperate to be accepted somewhere, by someone.
And yes, it's all too easy to start thinking like the people you admire.
Note that it's not all black people, or all Asians, she currently hates. Just Sophia.
Part Three: Points of View
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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The Slippery Slope
Part Three: Points of View
Blackwell
The first day of school after the Christmas break was always a madhouse. High spirits came out over the holidays, and were not always completely exhausted by the beginning of January classes. However, Carrie Blackwell had not expected this amount of uproar in the corridors, especially not at this hour of the school day.
She looked up from the paperwork on her desk – an amendment to the Act which allowed Wards to work out of schools – as the noise got nearer, or louder, or both. It sounded as though a positive mob were loose in the halls. Taking the paperwork from her desk and locking it in a drawer – it would not do for the wrong people to find out that Winslow was harbouring a Ward – she rose, preparatory to going out and finding exactly what was happening.
If people really want detentions this early in the year, then by God, I will oblige them.
However, she had barely made it around the desk before the door burst open. Taylor Hebert came first, half-supported by a boy who was unfamiliar to Blackwell. Following on were Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes; the track star was struggling grimly in the grip of two shaven-headed Empire Eighty-Eight boys, while the Barnes girl was being dragged along by an older girl, one of the seniors. A foul stench arose in the office; the immediate cause appeared to be the Hebert girl, as she was covered in reeking garbage from the thighs on down, and vomit from the chest on down. The boy with her had some of both on him; it didn't seem to bother him.
Several more students piled into the office, but thankfully stopped before the crush became too intense. Carrie blanched, recoiling from the smell as much as the sudden incursion.
"What in God's name is this all about?" she exclaimed. "Miss Hebert! What are you doing? And why are you covered in muck?"
Taylor Hebert, white-faced but with her lips pressed together in determination, leaned on the boy's supporting arm. "Principal Blackwell," she ground out. "You might recall a few allegations of bullying, that were handed in a while ago? Ones that you tore up in front of me?"
Blackwell blinked. She was suddenly starting to regret that somewhat-hasty action. "I – well – there was no proof -"
"Well, how about this?" Taylor pointed to the trash clinging to her legs. "Does this look like proof to you? How much more proof do you fucking need?"
"I - " Blackwell tried to rally. "What's happened? And why are you holding those two girls? Release them immediately."
"No." Taylor's voice was cold and hard. Blackwell recoiled again, from the look of utter loathing in her eyes. "They did this to me. You will call the fucking cops, and you will have them fucking arrested, right the fuck now!"
Blackwell's eyes flicked to Sophia Hess, who glared back at her. Fractionally, Hess shook her head. You don't want to do that. Emma Barnes looked more frightened than angry, but she didn't want it to happen either. Fix this, her eyes told Blackwell. Fix this.
Carrie Blackwell drew a deep breath, and played her last card. It was a weak one, but she played it for all she was worth. "All I see is two girls being held against their will, and a known troublemaker, in the company of members of a white-supremacist gang who recently beat up one of the girls in question, throwing unfounded allegations. I'll need more than that."
And then one of the other boys in the room cleared his throat. Blackwell looked his way; she vaguely recalled giving him a suspension in the weeks leading up to the Christmas break, following a complaint from Sophia Hess that he had been deliberately jostling her in the corridors. He pulled out his phone, and held it up so that she could see. A video file started playing; as she watched, ice formed around her heart.
The image was shaky and the phone itself had obviously been held up over the heads of a crowd, so the picture quality was imperfect. But it was good enough. It was good enough to see Taylor approaching her locker and exchanging words with Emma. She couldn't make out the conversation, but she could see when Taylor went to her locker, pulled a few photos down, and opened it. There was something in the locker; Blackwell could not make it out, but Taylor began to bend over, as if to examine it.
Due to the picture quality, Sophia's form was a blur when she first approached Taylor, but the image of her shoving the skinnier girl into the locker was impossible to mistake. And then Emma moved forward, slamming the door on her. Blackwell could not see what happened next, but the shouts and screams from within the locker were easily discernible, even over the crowd noise.
The boy shut the footage off, and turned to Taylor with a slight bow. Taylor nodded back to him, then turned to Blackwell. "We can show you the locker, if you like," she informed the principal. "If you want more proof." The emphasis Taylor put on the last word showed Carrie just how much she thought of her, and her stalling tactics. "Or we can just give this to the news. See how that runs." See how long you keep your job after that, she didn't have to say.
Principal Blackwell shook her head. "No," she conceded, her voice sounding distant even in her own ears. "You've made your point."
Lifting the phone, she dialled 9-1-1.
Ward or no, lawyer's daughter or no, I don't need trouble like this in my school.
Piggot
Emily Piggot leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a slight smile. Her leg muscles weren't giving her trouble, and she had yet to field a single troublesome phone call. Parahuman criminal activity had been slightly down over the Christmas period, compared to previous years, and PRT recruitment was experiencing a slight uptick. Clockblocker hadn't even been caught saying anything remotely rude to the news crews yet, although that was only a matter of time.
However, she refused to allow herself to even consider the concept that this might be turning out to be a good day. She'd had that thought before, and had paid for it in full before the day was over.
And then the phone rang.
She eyed it cautiously, as if it were a venomous snake.
Emily Piggot wasn't a parahuman; she had tested negative for even the possibility of triggering with parahuman abilities. But right at that moment, she had a sudden flash of intuition that told her that she did not want to pick up that phone.
However, she was Director, and thus, as Director, sometimes she had to take the bullet.
It rang again.
She drew a deep breath, and picked up the phone. "Piggot."
"Ma'am, this is Captain Jensen; I'm the watch commander. We just got a hit on the police scanner. There's been a call-out to Winslow High, regarding an assault. The name Sophia Hess came up."
"Oh Christ," muttered Piggot. "Again? I thought she was better at watching her back than that. How badly is she injured?" If we have to call on Panacea again ...
"Uh, not at all, that I know of, ma'am," Jensen told her. "The call seemed to indicate that Hess was one of the perpetrators."
Piggot paused. Jensen didn't know, officially, that Sophia Hess was the Ward known as Shadow Stalker. But the system was set up so that if any of the Wards' civilian identities was mentioned on the police band, it would throw up a flag in the PRT watch centre.
However, certain officers in the chain of command at the Brockon Bay Police Department also knew that certain names were more important than they seemed. And so Emily should have already gotten notification, even before the all-points went out. Which was a question that she was going to have to address. However, right now, she had to ascertain the extent of the damage.
"Did any cape names come up?" she asked. Was her cape identity involved? Or worse, exposed?
"Uh, no, ma'am," Jensen replied. "No cape names at all. Just Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes as the perpetrators."
"Barnes, Barnes," mused Piggot. "I know that name from somewhere." There was a beep in her ear, and a light popped up on her phone. "Good work, Jensen. I've got a call on another line. Keep me apprised, and get someone to chase up the name Barnes. It's come up before."
"Will do, ma'am."
Piggot cut the call, then hit the button for the next call. It was coming in from an outside line, and was being routed straight to her phone. There were few who had that number; among these were the Brockton Bay Police Commissioner, the Mayor, and the principals of each of the local high schools in which the Wards were being educated. She recognised the number as belonging to Winslow High.
That would be ... Blackwell. Finally, she chooses to get in contact.
"Piggot here," she stated curtly. "What's going on over there?"
"What's going on," Blackwell told her even more curtly, "is that I've just called the police to have your precious fucking Sophia Hess, as well as her friend Emma Barnes, arrested and charged for assault and god knows what else. They will both be expelled from Winslow just as soon as I can get the paperwork processed through."
Piggot blinked. "Wait. Walk me through this. Who did they assault? Isn't expulsion a little bit of a strong penalty for a first offence?"
"Director Piggot," Blackwell snarled, "Miss Hess and Miss Barnes plastered the locker of another girl with highly offensive material, as well as filling it with toxic waste. Then, when she opened the locker, Sophia Hess shoved her into it, Emma Barnes closed the door, and they locked her in."
Piggot was dumbfounded. "And you know for a fact that it was her ...?" she began hopefully.
"Because someone filmed it on their phone!" snapped Blackwell. "And you can bet that footage is making the rounds!"
"So confiscate the phone," Piggot suggested automatically. "You're the principal."
"And they're the Empire Eighty-Eight!" retorted Blackwell. "Yes, I'm the principal. But I am neither stupid nor suicidal. They are holding the girls, outside my office, waiting for the police to arrive and make the appropriate arrests."
"Wait, hold on a moment," Piggot protested. "What do the Empire Eighty-Eight have to do with an assault case that they didn't even perpetrate?"
"Because the assault happened to a girl who was friendly with one of their members, is the best answer I can get at the moment," Blackwell told her.
There was something Blackwell wasn't saying; Piggot's instincts kicked in. "Wait a minute. Is this even a first offence?"
Blackwell sighed. "Apparently not. I'm told there is firm evidence that this has been ongoing for over a year."
Piggot's jaw clenched. "And you didn't do anything about it."
"I didn't know about it!" protested the principal. "Nothing credible was reported to me!"
"Nothing … credible?" If the word had been an object, Piggot would have been handling it with thick rubber gloves. "Unless I miss my guess, that's code for I didn't want to know, so I didn't listen too hard. Or am I mistaken?"
"Oh, Christ!" snapped Blackwell. "Listen. I run the biggest school in Brockton Bay. All three gangs actively recruit here. Not a day goes by that people aren't beaten up, either on the premises or off. We don't go into some areas alone, for fear of what we might find there. We need all the funding we can get, just so we can get by. So when Sophia Hess joined the Wards, it was a huge shot in the arm for us. Your handler has been working closely with me; any time we heard anything untoward about her activities in the school, I passed it on to her. I never got any reply back, so I figured it was all fine."
"I've never had anything untoward reported to me," Piggot replied slowly.
There was a long pause on the line. Then Blackwell continued. "I … can't answer to that. She never caused much trouble. Never got into fights, not until recently. Friendly, outgoing, good on the track. Very competitive. Very few incidents worth speaking about. When she joined the Wards, we passed those on to your handler, but I guess they were settled, because nothing came back to me about them."
Piggot scribbled a memo to herself before she spoke again. "It was never settled, because I never heard about them. When you heard nothing back, you should have checked with me."
"If I double-checked everything everyone said to me, I'd never get any work done. And meanwhile, it's your fucking Ward who's just unleashed a shit-ton of trouble on my school!"
"If Hess was causing problems for more than a year, then it started on your fucking watch," Piggot snapped back. "We only brought her into the Wards in October!"
"Well, I want her out of my school," Blackwell told her. "The funding we're getting for her isn't worth the bad publicity or the lawsuits that we're likely to get because of what she's done today."
"Fine, we'll pull her," Piggot agreed. "But understand this; she committed this crime in her civilian identity, so the PRT and Protectorate don't ever show up on any of the paperwork. We're not a part of this."
"Okay, fine," Blackwell agreed. "But what about the Barnes girl?"
"What about her?" Piggot didn't care about the Barnes girl. She wasn't a PRT problem.
"She was in on it, too. And her father's a lawyer."
At that moment, a message popped up on Piggot's computer, and she automatically scanned it. Her head fell back as she breathed out. It was all starting to make sense now.
"Yeah, so I see," she told Blackwell. "I just got the notation. Her father was the one who represented Hess at the hearing that got her into the Wards, rather than juvey. So a popular girl, whose father is a lawyer, along with another pretty girl who's a track star. No wonder there weren't many complaints against them that you were willing to act on. Especially after Shadow Stalker got into the Wards."
"I resent the implication," Blackwell retorted, but it was weak.
"Yeah, I'll just bet," Piggot told her cuttingly. "I'll be dealing with the problem of Sophia Hess. Emma Barnes, and her lawyer father? They're your problem. Have fun."
There was squawking from the earpiece, but she put the phone down anyway, and eyed the message on the computer once more. Alan Barnes, father of Emma Barnes. Not my problem.
Well, I'm going to be having a shitty day, but at least there's at least one person whose day is going to be even shittier.
At least her identity didn't come out. That could have complicated this immeasurably.
Emma
Emma watched the Principal dial the number for the police. This can't be happening. This doesn't happen to me.
"Okay, everyone, let's get back outside," Peter ordered, and they readily obeyed him. "Leave the Principal to do her job." He was moving slower than most, as Taylor was still leaning on his arm, but Emma was slower still, given that she was unwilling to go anywhere that the musclebound senior girl wanted to take her.
Sophia was hustled outside by the two Empire Eighty-Eight boys that Peter had detailed to hold her, and then Peter and Taylor left. Emma found herself in the office with the senior and Blackwell.
"Principal Blackwell!" Her voice was urgent. "Please, listen to me! My father -"
" - is not here," Blackwell told her coldly. "Get out of my office." She took her hand from the mouthpiece and spoke clearly. "Yes, this is Principal Blackwell at Winslow High. I'd like to report an assault on a student by two other students. The names of the perpetrators are Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess … "
She didn't hear any more, as the older girl managed to muscle her out through the door, pulling it closed behind them. Peter stood there, his arm around Taylor. "Well?" he asked.
The older girl holding her smiled. "She was talking to the cops when I left. Named both of them." She frowned. "We really going to let the cops handle this?"
Peter nodded. "The cops do our job for us, we don't need to get our hands dirty." He paused. "Okay, everyone who's not needed here, get to class." People began to disperse, and he turned to the girl at his side. "Taylor, you should probably go shower, get changed."
"You should too," Taylor told him, smiling wanly. "I got you pretty stinky."
"Actually, maybe you should both stay the way you are," the girl holding Emma suggested.
Peter looked at her, tilted his head slightly. "Okay, Jenna. Explain."
Jenna shrugged. "Evidence. Cops are a lot more likely to take this seriously if Taylor's still messed up from the locker, right?"
Taylor looked at Peter. "She's got a point. I mean, I would literally kill for a hot shower right now, but if it helps put those two fucking bitches where they belong, I can stay dirty a little bit longer." She pointed at Sophia. "Especially you."
Emma had to hand it to Sophia; she wasn't fazed. Or she was really good at pretending. "Same old weak fucking Hebert. Hiding behind others to do your dirty work."
Taylor stepped away from Peter, approached Sophia. "You want to know something, you black cunt? Before you started on me, I never even approved of the Empire Eighty-Eight. But they showed me something that you never did. They showed me what was right in front of my nose. They gave me someplace to belong. With them, I've got friends." She turned toward Emma, who flinched at the look in her eyes. "Friends who won't stab you in the back, just because some black bitch is crawling up their ass." Her gaze returned to Sophia. "And before today, I really didn't think that I ever wanted to join the Empire proper. But guess what? You fucking changed my mind. Congratulations. You showed me the right way to go."
Whoops and congratulations resounded from the Empire Eighty-Eight members in the corridor; Peter smiled. "Well done," he told Taylor. "I knew you'd get there eventually."
"I'm not kidding," she told him. "How do I join?"
"I know you're not," he assured her. "Our next gathering is later this month. Would you like to come along? We can explain it there."
"Sure," Taylor agreed at once. "I can be there."
"You've got to kill a minority," burst out Sophia. "A black person, or an Asian, or a Jew. Kick them to death, or stab them, or shoot them. You willing to do that, Hebert? Get up close and personal, and kill someone like that? You got the guts?"
Taylor turned slowly toward her; her smile was razor-edged. "You volunteering, Sophia?"
The moment hung in the air, then Peter chuckled. "We'll talk about it at the gathering. You'll find that Sophia's information is a little … misplaced. Much like Emma's loyalties."
"Actually, about that," Emma snapped. "You're gonna join the Empire Eighty-Eight, Taylor? Fucking seriously? You know your dad'll have a heart attack as soon as he finds out."
Taylor turned toward her. "And you'd tell him, too, wouldn't you?" she murmured. "Just to fuck with me. Just like you used my dead mother's memory to fuck with me." She took a pace toward Emma, but then Peter was there.
"It's fine, Taylor," he told her. "Wait here. Emma and I just need to have a … chat."
Emma hesitated; she didn't want to go anywhere with him.
"I promise you, I'm not going to harm you in any way," he assured her.
Somehow, she believed him; they strolled a little way down the corridor, then she turned to him. "Okay, say what you have to say."
He had blue eyes, she noticed, the colour of a summer sky. "Well, to start with, do you recall how you told Taylor that I was in the Empire Eighty-Eight?"
She nodded. "I asked around, and someone said that you were. Are you going to threaten me now? Because my dad's a lawyer -"
He shook his head. "Oh no, Miss Barnes. I'm not going to threaten you." His voice had not changed; he was still polite, slightly bantering. But his eyes had become hard and cold, like two chips of blue ice. "I don't need to."
"Wh-what do you mean?" She hated herself, hated her voice for shaking.
"I mean, Miss Barnes, that when you pointed out the fact that I'm a member of a notorious criminal gang, you failed to think it all the way through," he went on, quietly and inexorably. "You see, we have connections. Contacts. We know where your father works. What time he arrives at work. Where he parks his car. How much it would take for the parking attendant to look the other way. Where your mother goes shopping, and when. Where your sister Anne goes to college. What classes she takes. What dorm she lives in. Which room. Who she's seeing. Which nights she gets back late."
Emma felt the blood draining from her face, but he was still talking. "Now, I don't know what excuse that fucking nigger bitch used to get you to attack Taylor, and I frankly don't care. I do care about two things. I care about the welfare of Taylor Hebert, and I care about the image of the Empire Eighty-Eight. By hurting her, you've attacked both things I care about. Now, due to your actions, recompense is in order. You can give, or we can take. Taking is easy; you have any number of things that we can take away from you. People you love. Accidents do happen, after all. Or random attacks; you hear about predators on campus all the time. Anything ... or anyone ... can be taken away from you at any time." He showed his teeth, just for a moment. "Giving, on the other hand, is up to you."
He stopped talking; she was too much in shock to answer. Dad ... Mom ... oh god, Anne.
"Miss Barnes?" he asked. "It's a simple choice. Would you prefer that we take, or that you give?"
She swallowed, feeling nauseous. "What – what could I give you?"
His smile widened fractionally, became more friendly. "Sophia. You roll over on her. Tell the police everything that she's ever done that could be considered a crime." An eyebrow raised. "Don't skimp on what you did either; however, if you tell them how she convinced you to do it, you should get off with a lighter sentence. Being white and all. Your dad's a lawyer; he'll be able to get you a good deal. But not her. Never her." He glanced down the corridor at the others. "Cut her loose. Abandon her. You're better off without her. Trust me on this."
The lump in her throat was still there. She swallowed again. "And my family will be safe? I'll be safe?"
He tilted his head slightly. "There will still be the matter of personal recompense for all the pain you caused Taylor. But it won't be too severe."
Oh god. Emma didn't hear the almost bantering tone of his voice. She was seeing the ABB thugs in the alleyway, hearing their sneering voices, reliving the terror. What they had been about to do to her ... I can't go through that again. Anything but that.
Abruptly, she spoke. "If – if I gave you something more, something big, could you just leave us all alone? For good?"
A frown. He was intrigued. "That depends. How big?"
"Big," she assured him. "Huge." She was shaking now; she wanted to cry. She didn't want to do this, but she had to. Surely Sophia understands self-preservation. For Dad, for Mom, for Anne. I'm protecting us all.
He nodded. "If it's that big, sure."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "She's Shadow Stalker."
For the first time, she saw that she had cracked his façade. He blinked. "Come again?"
"Sophia Hess," she insisted, her voice low. "She's Shadow Stalker. The Ward."
His eyes were unfocused. "You're certain of this."
She nodded urgently. "Guaranteed. I've gone out with her. On patrol."
The smile, which had gone away for a little while, returned. "Well, now. Isn't that … interesting."
"So it's good?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's good. Roll over on her, throw her to the wolves, leave Taylor Hebert the fuck alone … and you're good. You will be forgiven for what you did to Taylor. On that, you have my word." She turned to go; he held up a hand. "And don't warn Sophia. Or the deal's off."
"I – I won't," she assured him.
A brief nod. "Good. You can go now. Call your father. You'll want him here. Just remember what it is that you'll be saying to him."
"Th-thank you," she told him. Turning, she hurried back to the others.
She barely heard his voice behind her. "No. Thank you."
Peter
"Ferguson."
"Why are you calling? Are there new developments?"
"Yes, sir, there are. Emma Barnes is gonna roll on Sophia Hess. She's giving her up."
"Well, that's good, but it's hardly surprising. Did you settle on recompense?"
"Well, that's the kicker. She gave me something else, which should be more than adequate."
"Which is?"
"Not something I would prefer to discuss over the phone, sir."
"It's that important?"
"I believe so, sir."
"And you think it's worth letting the Barnes family off for?"
"Even better. After this, we'll own them."
"Very well. I'll have you picked up from school. I need to know what you've got."
"Trust me, sir. You will not regret it."
"For both of our sakes, I hope not."
Kelly
Kelly was lounging at the front steps when the police cars rolled up. They stopped with a crunching of gravel in the No Standing section, and several officers got out. Three of them were women.
"Oh, hey," he called out. "You're here about the assault thing?"
In return, he got several suspicious looks. Admittedly, it was a bit of an odd one for him too, to be cooperating with the pigs, but Peter had told them it had to be this way, so that was the way they were playing it.
"What do you know about that?" asked one of the officers. "And what's your name?"
"Kelly Fitzgerald," he replied honestly. "I can show you where it happened, and where the perpetrators are."
"Okay, kid, let's go," the officer told him. "But screw us around, and you won't like what happens."
He shrugged. "Sure. I just wanna see justice done." And he even meant it, too. He hadn't thought much of Taylor when he first met her, but as Peter said, she was a sister. She hadn't folded on Bronson, and had even tipped him to bolt before the cops showed. That showed she had guts and brains both. What the nigger bitch and her race traitor girlfriend had done to her …
We shoulda just dragged them both out of here and shown them justice, Empire Eighty-Eight style. Let the redheaded bitch live, but let her see what happens to niggers who hurt our friends. Mentally, he shrugged. But Peter wants it this way, so it happens this way.
"Here's Taylor's locker," he told them, somewhat unnecessarily. "That shit was inside when she opened the locker. They shoved her inside, locked her in there."
The officers stared at the open locker, the still stinking mess spread over the floor around it. One got too close, and had to retreat, looking green. "Holy Christ," one muttered. "You got witnesses?"
"A metric fuck-ton," Kelly grinned, pulling his phone out. He started the file, and the officers watched, fascinated. When it finished, one of them held his hand out.
"Gonna need that phone, kid," he advised.
Kelly shook his head. "Sorry, not unless you got a warrant that says you can search the rest of my phone." He grinned. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."
The officer shook his head. "That's material evidence, kid. You do not want to be charged for withholding evidence."
Kelly shrugged. "Shit no, I don't want that. You want, I can send the file to you. Got a number?"
Several of the officers conferred, and one nodded. He quoted a number, and Kelly quickly sent the file to it. The officer confirmed that he had the file, and started playing it through again.
"Okay, where are the perpetrators?" asked another officer. "We need to speak to them, to the victim, and to any witnesses."
"Paramedics are also on the way," another officer told him. "Were there any injuries that we need to worry about?"
Kelly considered that. "Not that I can think of," he allowed, "but it probably wouldn't hurt to find out."
He led the rest of the officers to where Taylor and Peter were silently facing off Sophia and Emma; the black girl was still being held by the buzz-cuts, as Kelly privately thought of them. Emma wasn't being held, but Jenna was shadowing her pretty closely.
"Thank fuck you're here!" Sophia burst out. "These assholes are Empire Eighty-Eight, and -"
" - and we've seen the video footage, miss," the female officer in the lead told her. She waved to the boys holding her; at a nod from Peter, they let her go. She stood sullenly, rubbing her wrists.
"So who's Sophia Hess, and who's Emma Barnes?" asked the officer, pulling out her notebook.
"I'm Sophia Hess, and I need to make a private phone call," Sophia stated flatly.
"After I take your statement," the officer facing her replied, equally flatly.
Another woman cop approached Emma. "And you would be Emma Barnes?"
She nodded. "Yes. And my dad's a lawyer, and he's on his way in here now."
The officer grimaced; Kelly grinned to himself. He didn't like cops at the best of times, but having to deal with rat-bastard lawyer relatives of the people they arrested must be a royal pain in the ass. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for them.
Almost.
A third officer approached Taylor. "And you would be the victim, miss?"
Taylor nodded. "Yes." Her voice was quiet but firm. "My name is Taylor Hebert."
The female officer scribbled away, then nodded encouragingly. "Tell me everything that happened."
"Well," she began. "I was going to my locker … "
Sophia
"Not until I get my phone call," Sophia repeated stubbornly. "I'm not under arrest; you haven't read me my rights."
The police officer looked irritated. "Is this you in this video?" she asked, holding her phone so that Sophia could watch it.
She hadn't had a chance to see it before, having been at the back of the room when the Empire shit had played it to Blackwell. But it was pretty damning, even with the shaky picture and bad sound. However, she'd gotten away with a lot more through sheer audacity.
"No," she stated flatly.
"Well, here's your problem," the officer told her. "I think it is. I've been given your name in connection to the case, and this footage very strongly suggests that you were the one who shoved that girl into the locker. So I am arresting you on suspicion of aggravated assault and deprivation of liberty, with other charges pending, once they analyse the waste that was in that locker."
"But she's in the fucking Empire Eighty-Eight," Sophia insisted. Can't this bitch see that? "Why aren't you arresting her?"
"Because she's committed no crime that we can see," the officer told her patiently. "Whereas you have. Hands behind your back and turn around."
Sophia shook her head. "No. Fuck this. No. I don't get arrested. Let me make my fucking phone call." She began to move away from the cop, but suddenly she felt herself being grabbed and shoved face-first against the wall.
"Let me fucking go!" She struggled, but the officer was a good ten years older than her, possibly more. The woman was stronger, and had leverage on her side; she had Sophia's hands cuffed behind her in short order.
"You have the right to remain silent," panted the policewoman. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided for you." She took a deep breath. "Do you understand these rights as I have read them out to you?"
Sophia was silent, seething. She wanted to go to shadow, to shed these cuffs, to show this fucking flatfoot who she was dealing with, but she held back. Where had it all gone wrong? How had her righteous win over that fucking racist Hebert bitch turned into this?
"Miss Hess," the cop tried again. "I know you can speak. I know you can hear me. Do you understand your rights as I have read them out to you?"
Sophia gritted her teeth. Reading them their rights. Yeah, you go and do that, while I do the real work, cleaning up the fucking streets.
Another voice from behind her, male. "How's it going?"
"Okay. I've read her rights to her, but she isn't responding. Won't acknowledge."
"Hm. Let me try." The man leaned closer, took hold of her elbow. "Sophia Hess. Do you understand your rights, as my colleague has read them out to you?"
Fuck you. She stayed stubbornly silent. And then his thumb pressed on a nerve in her elbow joint, and she stiffened in pain. "Ow!" Almost, she went to shadow. But she restrained herself. You are so going to fucking regret that, you piece of shit.
"Oh, sorry," he replied, not sounding at all sorry. "But now that we know you can speak, would you mind answering the question?"
"Fuck – yes," she gritted. "I understand my fucking rights. Now can I please have my fucking phone call?"
"Given that you understand these rights," he carried on, ignoring her question, "are you willing to waive the right to silence, and speak to us on the matter at hand?"
She twisted around and glowered at him. "Not until I get my fucking. Phone. Call," she ground out, putting as much emphasis on her words as possible.
"Just one moment," he told her, and turned to the female officer. "Has she been searched yet?"
"Not yet," the woman told him. She looked Sophia over. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetie. The hard way involves a private room and rubber gloves. You want to go there?"
Sophia shook her head. Stubbornness had gotten her nowhere. "No. I do not want to go there."
Just bide my time until I can get my phone call, and unleash the hounds of hell on these fuckers.
"Good. Hold still."
Frisking her with cuffs on was a little awkward, but apparently neither of the cops was willing to remove them, and so that's how it happened. It was a little more personal than she had expected, but it was over relatively quickly. As it was, she wasn't carrying anything illicit, for which she was grateful; had she been, the female cop would have found it. She was quite thorough.
"Now can I have my phone call?" she asked, once it was done.
The two cops looked at one another. The male one shrugged. "Sure. May as well."
The female cop nodded. "Sure. But here's the question." She held up the two phones that she had taken from Sophia. "Which one? And why two phones in the first place?"
Because I'm a Ward, you dumb piece of shit.
"The newer one," Sophia told her. "And can I have my hands cuffed in front of me for this?"
With the male cop watching, the female cop uncuffed her hands and recuffed them, then gave her the PRT-issue phone. Fortunately, it didn't have any exterior markings to show it as such.
Taking a deep breath, she keyed in the PIN, making sure not to let the cops see it. Then she scrolled through the numbers until she found the one she wanted. Pressing Dial, she awkwardly held the phone up to her ear. The cops watched impassively.
The phone rang twice, then was picked up.
"Hi, Mom."
"Shadow Stalker. I presume that you are in police custody by now."
"Yeah, it's all good. When are you going to come pick me up?"
"We're not."
She blinked. "Sorry, what? I didn't get that."
"We're not going to pull you out of this. This is a criminal matter involving your public identity. You haven't revealed your secret identity yet, I hope?"
"Uh, no, no, that's all good," she managed. "But … "
"But nothing, Shadow Stalker," Director Piggot told her. "You will submit to arrest. You will let them take you downtown. We will pick you up there. You will not give them any reason to think that you are anything but who you say you are. You will not, under any circumstance, try to use your standing as a Ward to get out of this. Do you understand?"
"I, uh, yeah, but -"
"If you violate these orders, then we will consider you to be a criminal to be arrested," Piggot warned. "You've been getting away with this sort of thing for far too long. No more. It ends now." There was a click as the call ended.
The bottom fell out of Sophia's world. It didn't make sense. She always got away with this sort of thing. It was what she did.
I always win. I'm better than everyone else. I always win.
I never lose.
She put the phone away automatically, her mind working fast. Piggot gave me orders. Still a Ward.
A deep breath. She's a bitch, but she wouldn't cut me loose just like that. I didn't commit any crimes in costume, so this doesn't break my probation. Alan Barnes had made her read the terms and conditions of her probation, for which she was now grateful. I can't figure the outs if I don't know the angles.
She felt her heart rate slowing as she calmed herself. PRT coming here would out me. Pickup at the station, right. So say nothing. Don't even bother denying anything. Emma won't be saying anything either. When her dad gets here -
And then, in the silence around her, she heard Emma's voice. " … yes, she pushed Taylor down the stairs lots of times. And broke into her locker a few times. I remember once, she stole a flute that Taylor brought into school … "
Her brain whited out. Emma? How is this possible? She's giving me up?
SHE is giving ME up?
"FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!"
It took Sophia a moment to realise that the tearing, animalistic noise had been torn from her own throat. She didn't even bother going to shadow; straightening up with a lunge, she slammed the heels of her hands up under the chin of the larger, male officer. She was very fit for her age, and fairly strong. His head snapped back and he staggered backward; she began to turn to the female officer -
Too late, she registered the prongs of a stun-gun as they jammed into her ribs. The current crackled through her; she convulsed and fell to her knees. Even then, she tried to fight, tried to go to shadow, but it was too little, too late. The female cop hit her with the stun gun a second time.
This time, the lights went out.
Taylor
I ran my hands through my hair yet again, facing into the pounding spray of the hot shower. It felt heavenly. I had scrubbed myself all over, twice, and finally – finally – I felt clean again. Now, I knew, I was just indulging myself.
And what's wrong with a little indulgence?
I smiled to myself, and turned off the taps. Turning, I stepped out of the shower cubicle, accepting the towel that Jenna handed to me.
"Thanks," I told her, as I began to towel off. "But you really didn't have to come down here with me."
"Peter wanted me to stay with you," she pointed out. "I mean, I know that Emma and Sophia are in custody, but there might be one or two other idiots in the school who want to hurt you. After all, it wasn't always just those two, was it?"
I shook my head, spraying droplets. "No. Madison Clements was always one of them, up until this time, that is."
She smiled slightly. "She obviously realised that fucking with you is a losing proposition."
I chuckled. "No. Fucking with you guys is a losing proposition. I'm just along for the ride."
"More than that, I think," she pointed out. "Were you really serious about wanting to join?"
I shrugged. "Well, yeah," I told her. "I don't necessarily agree with everything you guys do, but fuck, you've protected me, and Peter saved me from the locker, and … fuck. What it was like in there … you do not want to know."
She nodded soberly, handing me my underwear. "I saw it from the outside. From a distance. I have to say, Taylor, you were badass in Blackwell's office. I mean, covered in shit, your own puke all over your shirt, and you still fucking gave it to her with both barrels."
I blushed to the roots of my hair, as I did up my bra. "I … well, it seemed to be the right thing to do. To say."
Jenna jerked her chin in an upward nod as I climbed into my gym sweats. "Well, it sure as hell impressed everyone there. Peter always said he saw something in you. Today, I saw what it was."
I ducked my head, trying not to blush again. "Yeah, well, let's hope it doesn't require me to be locked in a locker full of shit before I can be that way again, huh?"
She laughed and ruffled my still-damp hair. It felt good, comradely. "Yeah, let's hope so."
Peter was waiting at the entrance to the girls' shower room as we exited. He was also freshly showered and changed; I walked up to him and made a show of sniffing the air. Then I turned to Jenna, who was grinning broadly, and asked, "Where's Peter? I can't smell him anywhere."
Peter, chuckling warmly, put his arms around me; I snuggled into his embrace. "Mmm," I murmured. "There you are. You smell nice."
"So do you," he replied, just as softly.
"Thanks," I told him. "Actually, you know something? How we talked awhile ago about you being my boyfriend? That offer still open?"
He nuzzled my cheek. "Yeah, why?"
"Because I'm taking you up on it," I told him with a smile.
He stopped, still staring at me. "You're serious?"
I nodded. "Deadly. Is there a problem?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "No. No problem at all."
Tentatively, I leaned in toward him. He divined my intention, and mirrored my movement, tilting his head. Our lips met in a brief, warm kiss. It wasn't a kiss for the ages, and of passion there was barely anything. But it was my first kiss with a boy, and I felt a calm spreading through me, settling my racing thoughts.
I didn't kiss him again, not right away; once was enough.
For now.
End of Part Three
Part Four
Part Three: Points of View
Blackwell
The first day of school after the Christmas break was always a madhouse. High spirits came out over the holidays, and were not always completely exhausted by the beginning of January classes. However, Carrie Blackwell had not expected this amount of uproar in the corridors, especially not at this hour of the school day.
She looked up from the paperwork on her desk – an amendment to the Act which allowed Wards to work out of schools – as the noise got nearer, or louder, or both. It sounded as though a positive mob were loose in the halls. Taking the paperwork from her desk and locking it in a drawer – it would not do for the wrong people to find out that Winslow was harbouring a Ward – she rose, preparatory to going out and finding exactly what was happening.
If people really want detentions this early in the year, then by God, I will oblige them.
However, she had barely made it around the desk before the door burst open. Taylor Hebert came first, half-supported by a boy who was unfamiliar to Blackwell. Following on were Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes; the track star was struggling grimly in the grip of two shaven-headed Empire Eighty-Eight boys, while the Barnes girl was being dragged along by an older girl, one of the seniors. A foul stench arose in the office; the immediate cause appeared to be the Hebert girl, as she was covered in reeking garbage from the thighs on down, and vomit from the chest on down. The boy with her had some of both on him; it didn't seem to bother him.
Several more students piled into the office, but thankfully stopped before the crush became too intense. Carrie blanched, recoiling from the smell as much as the sudden incursion.
"What in God's name is this all about?" she exclaimed. "Miss Hebert! What are you doing? And why are you covered in muck?"
Taylor Hebert, white-faced but with her lips pressed together in determination, leaned on the boy's supporting arm. "Principal Blackwell," she ground out. "You might recall a few allegations of bullying, that were handed in a while ago? Ones that you tore up in front of me?"
Blackwell blinked. She was suddenly starting to regret that somewhat-hasty action. "I – well – there was no proof -"
"Well, how about this?" Taylor pointed to the trash clinging to her legs. "Does this look like proof to you? How much more proof do you fucking need?"
"I - " Blackwell tried to rally. "What's happened? And why are you holding those two girls? Release them immediately."
"No." Taylor's voice was cold and hard. Blackwell recoiled again, from the look of utter loathing in her eyes. "They did this to me. You will call the fucking cops, and you will have them fucking arrested, right the fuck now!"
Blackwell's eyes flicked to Sophia Hess, who glared back at her. Fractionally, Hess shook her head. You don't want to do that. Emma Barnes looked more frightened than angry, but she didn't want it to happen either. Fix this, her eyes told Blackwell. Fix this.
Carrie Blackwell drew a deep breath, and played her last card. It was a weak one, but she played it for all she was worth. "All I see is two girls being held against their will, and a known troublemaker, in the company of members of a white-supremacist gang who recently beat up one of the girls in question, throwing unfounded allegations. I'll need more than that."
And then one of the other boys in the room cleared his throat. Blackwell looked his way; she vaguely recalled giving him a suspension in the weeks leading up to the Christmas break, following a complaint from Sophia Hess that he had been deliberately jostling her in the corridors. He pulled out his phone, and held it up so that she could see. A video file started playing; as she watched, ice formed around her heart.
The image was shaky and the phone itself had obviously been held up over the heads of a crowd, so the picture quality was imperfect. But it was good enough. It was good enough to see Taylor approaching her locker and exchanging words with Emma. She couldn't make out the conversation, but she could see when Taylor went to her locker, pulled a few photos down, and opened it. There was something in the locker; Blackwell could not make it out, but Taylor began to bend over, as if to examine it.
Due to the picture quality, Sophia's form was a blur when she first approached Taylor, but the image of her shoving the skinnier girl into the locker was impossible to mistake. And then Emma moved forward, slamming the door on her. Blackwell could not see what happened next, but the shouts and screams from within the locker were easily discernible, even over the crowd noise.
The boy shut the footage off, and turned to Taylor with a slight bow. Taylor nodded back to him, then turned to Blackwell. "We can show you the locker, if you like," she informed the principal. "If you want more proof." The emphasis Taylor put on the last word showed Carrie just how much she thought of her, and her stalling tactics. "Or we can just give this to the news. See how that runs." See how long you keep your job after that, she didn't have to say.
Principal Blackwell shook her head. "No," she conceded, her voice sounding distant even in her own ears. "You've made your point."
Lifting the phone, she dialled 9-1-1.
Ward or no, lawyer's daughter or no, I don't need trouble like this in my school.
<><>
Piggot
Emily Piggot leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a slight smile. Her leg muscles weren't giving her trouble, and she had yet to field a single troublesome phone call. Parahuman criminal activity had been slightly down over the Christmas period, compared to previous years, and PRT recruitment was experiencing a slight uptick. Clockblocker hadn't even been caught saying anything remotely rude to the news crews yet, although that was only a matter of time.
However, she refused to allow herself to even consider the concept that this might be turning out to be a good day. She'd had that thought before, and had paid for it in full before the day was over.
And then the phone rang.
She eyed it cautiously, as if it were a venomous snake.
Emily Piggot wasn't a parahuman; she had tested negative for even the possibility of triggering with parahuman abilities. But right at that moment, she had a sudden flash of intuition that told her that she did not want to pick up that phone.
However, she was Director, and thus, as Director, sometimes she had to take the bullet.
It rang again.
She drew a deep breath, and picked up the phone. "Piggot."
"Ma'am, this is Captain Jensen; I'm the watch commander. We just got a hit on the police scanner. There's been a call-out to Winslow High, regarding an assault. The name Sophia Hess came up."
"Oh Christ," muttered Piggot. "Again? I thought she was better at watching her back than that. How badly is she injured?" If we have to call on Panacea again ...
"Uh, not at all, that I know of, ma'am," Jensen told her. "The call seemed to indicate that Hess was one of the perpetrators."
Piggot paused. Jensen didn't know, officially, that Sophia Hess was the Ward known as Shadow Stalker. But the system was set up so that if any of the Wards' civilian identities was mentioned on the police band, it would throw up a flag in the PRT watch centre.
However, certain officers in the chain of command at the Brockon Bay Police Department also knew that certain names were more important than they seemed. And so Emily should have already gotten notification, even before the all-points went out. Which was a question that she was going to have to address. However, right now, she had to ascertain the extent of the damage.
"Did any cape names come up?" she asked. Was her cape identity involved? Or worse, exposed?
"Uh, no, ma'am," Jensen replied. "No cape names at all. Just Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes as the perpetrators."
"Barnes, Barnes," mused Piggot. "I know that name from somewhere." There was a beep in her ear, and a light popped up on her phone. "Good work, Jensen. I've got a call on another line. Keep me apprised, and get someone to chase up the name Barnes. It's come up before."
"Will do, ma'am."
Piggot cut the call, then hit the button for the next call. It was coming in from an outside line, and was being routed straight to her phone. There were few who had that number; among these were the Brockton Bay Police Commissioner, the Mayor, and the principals of each of the local high schools in which the Wards were being educated. She recognised the number as belonging to Winslow High.
That would be ... Blackwell. Finally, she chooses to get in contact.
"Piggot here," she stated curtly. "What's going on over there?"
"What's going on," Blackwell told her even more curtly, "is that I've just called the police to have your precious fucking Sophia Hess, as well as her friend Emma Barnes, arrested and charged for assault and god knows what else. They will both be expelled from Winslow just as soon as I can get the paperwork processed through."
Piggot blinked. "Wait. Walk me through this. Who did they assault? Isn't expulsion a little bit of a strong penalty for a first offence?"
"Director Piggot," Blackwell snarled, "Miss Hess and Miss Barnes plastered the locker of another girl with highly offensive material, as well as filling it with toxic waste. Then, when she opened the locker, Sophia Hess shoved her into it, Emma Barnes closed the door, and they locked her in."
Piggot was dumbfounded. "And you know for a fact that it was her ...?" she began hopefully.
"Because someone filmed it on their phone!" snapped Blackwell. "And you can bet that footage is making the rounds!"
"So confiscate the phone," Piggot suggested automatically. "You're the principal."
"And they're the Empire Eighty-Eight!" retorted Blackwell. "Yes, I'm the principal. But I am neither stupid nor suicidal. They are holding the girls, outside my office, waiting for the police to arrive and make the appropriate arrests."
"Wait, hold on a moment," Piggot protested. "What do the Empire Eighty-Eight have to do with an assault case that they didn't even perpetrate?"
"Because the assault happened to a girl who was friendly with one of their members, is the best answer I can get at the moment," Blackwell told her.
There was something Blackwell wasn't saying; Piggot's instincts kicked in. "Wait a minute. Is this even a first offence?"
Blackwell sighed. "Apparently not. I'm told there is firm evidence that this has been ongoing for over a year."
Piggot's jaw clenched. "And you didn't do anything about it."
"I didn't know about it!" protested the principal. "Nothing credible was reported to me!"
"Nothing … credible?" If the word had been an object, Piggot would have been handling it with thick rubber gloves. "Unless I miss my guess, that's code for I didn't want to know, so I didn't listen too hard. Or am I mistaken?"
"Oh, Christ!" snapped Blackwell. "Listen. I run the biggest school in Brockton Bay. All three gangs actively recruit here. Not a day goes by that people aren't beaten up, either on the premises or off. We don't go into some areas alone, for fear of what we might find there. We need all the funding we can get, just so we can get by. So when Sophia Hess joined the Wards, it was a huge shot in the arm for us. Your handler has been working closely with me; any time we heard anything untoward about her activities in the school, I passed it on to her. I never got any reply back, so I figured it was all fine."
"I've never had anything untoward reported to me," Piggot replied slowly.
There was a long pause on the line. Then Blackwell continued. "I … can't answer to that. She never caused much trouble. Never got into fights, not until recently. Friendly, outgoing, good on the track. Very competitive. Very few incidents worth speaking about. When she joined the Wards, we passed those on to your handler, but I guess they were settled, because nothing came back to me about them."
Piggot scribbled a memo to herself before she spoke again. "It was never settled, because I never heard about them. When you heard nothing back, you should have checked with me."
"If I double-checked everything everyone said to me, I'd never get any work done. And meanwhile, it's your fucking Ward who's just unleashed a shit-ton of trouble on my school!"
"If Hess was causing problems for more than a year, then it started on your fucking watch," Piggot snapped back. "We only brought her into the Wards in October!"
"Well, I want her out of my school," Blackwell told her. "The funding we're getting for her isn't worth the bad publicity or the lawsuits that we're likely to get because of what she's done today."
"Fine, we'll pull her," Piggot agreed. "But understand this; she committed this crime in her civilian identity, so the PRT and Protectorate don't ever show up on any of the paperwork. We're not a part of this."
"Okay, fine," Blackwell agreed. "But what about the Barnes girl?"
"What about her?" Piggot didn't care about the Barnes girl. She wasn't a PRT problem.
"She was in on it, too. And her father's a lawyer."
At that moment, a message popped up on Piggot's computer, and she automatically scanned it. Her head fell back as she breathed out. It was all starting to make sense now.
"Yeah, so I see," she told Blackwell. "I just got the notation. Her father was the one who represented Hess at the hearing that got her into the Wards, rather than juvey. So a popular girl, whose father is a lawyer, along with another pretty girl who's a track star. No wonder there weren't many complaints against them that you were willing to act on. Especially after Shadow Stalker got into the Wards."
"I resent the implication," Blackwell retorted, but it was weak.
"Yeah, I'll just bet," Piggot told her cuttingly. "I'll be dealing with the problem of Sophia Hess. Emma Barnes, and her lawyer father? They're your problem. Have fun."
There was squawking from the earpiece, but she put the phone down anyway, and eyed the message on the computer once more. Alan Barnes, father of Emma Barnes. Not my problem.
Well, I'm going to be having a shitty day, but at least there's at least one person whose day is going to be even shittier.
At least her identity didn't come out. That could have complicated this immeasurably.
<><>
Emma
Emma watched the Principal dial the number for the police. This can't be happening. This doesn't happen to me.
"Okay, everyone, let's get back outside," Peter ordered, and they readily obeyed him. "Leave the Principal to do her job." He was moving slower than most, as Taylor was still leaning on his arm, but Emma was slower still, given that she was unwilling to go anywhere that the musclebound senior girl wanted to take her.
Sophia was hustled outside by the two Empire Eighty-Eight boys that Peter had detailed to hold her, and then Peter and Taylor left. Emma found herself in the office with the senior and Blackwell.
"Principal Blackwell!" Her voice was urgent. "Please, listen to me! My father -"
" - is not here," Blackwell told her coldly. "Get out of my office." She took her hand from the mouthpiece and spoke clearly. "Yes, this is Principal Blackwell at Winslow High. I'd like to report an assault on a student by two other students. The names of the perpetrators are Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess … "
She didn't hear any more, as the older girl managed to muscle her out through the door, pulling it closed behind them. Peter stood there, his arm around Taylor. "Well?" he asked.
The older girl holding her smiled. "She was talking to the cops when I left. Named both of them." She frowned. "We really going to let the cops handle this?"
Peter nodded. "The cops do our job for us, we don't need to get our hands dirty." He paused. "Okay, everyone who's not needed here, get to class." People began to disperse, and he turned to the girl at his side. "Taylor, you should probably go shower, get changed."
"You should too," Taylor told him, smiling wanly. "I got you pretty stinky."
"Actually, maybe you should both stay the way you are," the girl holding Emma suggested.
Peter looked at her, tilted his head slightly. "Okay, Jenna. Explain."
Jenna shrugged. "Evidence. Cops are a lot more likely to take this seriously if Taylor's still messed up from the locker, right?"
Taylor looked at Peter. "She's got a point. I mean, I would literally kill for a hot shower right now, but if it helps put those two fucking bitches where they belong, I can stay dirty a little bit longer." She pointed at Sophia. "Especially you."
Emma had to hand it to Sophia; she wasn't fazed. Or she was really good at pretending. "Same old weak fucking Hebert. Hiding behind others to do your dirty work."
Taylor stepped away from Peter, approached Sophia. "You want to know something, you black cunt? Before you started on me, I never even approved of the Empire Eighty-Eight. But they showed me something that you never did. They showed me what was right in front of my nose. They gave me someplace to belong. With them, I've got friends." She turned toward Emma, who flinched at the look in her eyes. "Friends who won't stab you in the back, just because some black bitch is crawling up their ass." Her gaze returned to Sophia. "And before today, I really didn't think that I ever wanted to join the Empire proper. But guess what? You fucking changed my mind. Congratulations. You showed me the right way to go."
Whoops and congratulations resounded from the Empire Eighty-Eight members in the corridor; Peter smiled. "Well done," he told Taylor. "I knew you'd get there eventually."
"I'm not kidding," she told him. "How do I join?"
"I know you're not," he assured her. "Our next gathering is later this month. Would you like to come along? We can explain it there."
"Sure," Taylor agreed at once. "I can be there."
"You've got to kill a minority," burst out Sophia. "A black person, or an Asian, or a Jew. Kick them to death, or stab them, or shoot them. You willing to do that, Hebert? Get up close and personal, and kill someone like that? You got the guts?"
Taylor turned slowly toward her; her smile was razor-edged. "You volunteering, Sophia?"
The moment hung in the air, then Peter chuckled. "We'll talk about it at the gathering. You'll find that Sophia's information is a little … misplaced. Much like Emma's loyalties."
"Actually, about that," Emma snapped. "You're gonna join the Empire Eighty-Eight, Taylor? Fucking seriously? You know your dad'll have a heart attack as soon as he finds out."
Taylor turned toward her. "And you'd tell him, too, wouldn't you?" she murmured. "Just to fuck with me. Just like you used my dead mother's memory to fuck with me." She took a pace toward Emma, but then Peter was there.
"It's fine, Taylor," he told her. "Wait here. Emma and I just need to have a … chat."
Emma hesitated; she didn't want to go anywhere with him.
"I promise you, I'm not going to harm you in any way," he assured her.
Somehow, she believed him; they strolled a little way down the corridor, then she turned to him. "Okay, say what you have to say."
He had blue eyes, she noticed, the colour of a summer sky. "Well, to start with, do you recall how you told Taylor that I was in the Empire Eighty-Eight?"
She nodded. "I asked around, and someone said that you were. Are you going to threaten me now? Because my dad's a lawyer -"
He shook his head. "Oh no, Miss Barnes. I'm not going to threaten you." His voice had not changed; he was still polite, slightly bantering. But his eyes had become hard and cold, like two chips of blue ice. "I don't need to."
"Wh-what do you mean?" She hated herself, hated her voice for shaking.
"I mean, Miss Barnes, that when you pointed out the fact that I'm a member of a notorious criminal gang, you failed to think it all the way through," he went on, quietly and inexorably. "You see, we have connections. Contacts. We know where your father works. What time he arrives at work. Where he parks his car. How much it would take for the parking attendant to look the other way. Where your mother goes shopping, and when. Where your sister Anne goes to college. What classes she takes. What dorm she lives in. Which room. Who she's seeing. Which nights she gets back late."
Emma felt the blood draining from her face, but he was still talking. "Now, I don't know what excuse that fucking nigger bitch used to get you to attack Taylor, and I frankly don't care. I do care about two things. I care about the welfare of Taylor Hebert, and I care about the image of the Empire Eighty-Eight. By hurting her, you've attacked both things I care about. Now, due to your actions, recompense is in order. You can give, or we can take. Taking is easy; you have any number of things that we can take away from you. People you love. Accidents do happen, after all. Or random attacks; you hear about predators on campus all the time. Anything ... or anyone ... can be taken away from you at any time." He showed his teeth, just for a moment. "Giving, on the other hand, is up to you."
He stopped talking; she was too much in shock to answer. Dad ... Mom ... oh god, Anne.
"Miss Barnes?" he asked. "It's a simple choice. Would you prefer that we take, or that you give?"
She swallowed, feeling nauseous. "What – what could I give you?"
His smile widened fractionally, became more friendly. "Sophia. You roll over on her. Tell the police everything that she's ever done that could be considered a crime." An eyebrow raised. "Don't skimp on what you did either; however, if you tell them how she convinced you to do it, you should get off with a lighter sentence. Being white and all. Your dad's a lawyer; he'll be able to get you a good deal. But not her. Never her." He glanced down the corridor at the others. "Cut her loose. Abandon her. You're better off without her. Trust me on this."
The lump in her throat was still there. She swallowed again. "And my family will be safe? I'll be safe?"
He tilted his head slightly. "There will still be the matter of personal recompense for all the pain you caused Taylor. But it won't be too severe."
Oh god. Emma didn't hear the almost bantering tone of his voice. She was seeing the ABB thugs in the alleyway, hearing their sneering voices, reliving the terror. What they had been about to do to her ... I can't go through that again. Anything but that.
Abruptly, she spoke. "If – if I gave you something more, something big, could you just leave us all alone? For good?"
A frown. He was intrigued. "That depends. How big?"
"Big," she assured him. "Huge." She was shaking now; she wanted to cry. She didn't want to do this, but she had to. Surely Sophia understands self-preservation. For Dad, for Mom, for Anne. I'm protecting us all.
He nodded. "If it's that big, sure."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "She's Shadow Stalker."
For the first time, she saw that she had cracked his façade. He blinked. "Come again?"
"Sophia Hess," she insisted, her voice low. "She's Shadow Stalker. The Ward."
His eyes were unfocused. "You're certain of this."
She nodded urgently. "Guaranteed. I've gone out with her. On patrol."
The smile, which had gone away for a little while, returned. "Well, now. Isn't that … interesting."
"So it's good?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's good. Roll over on her, throw her to the wolves, leave Taylor Hebert the fuck alone … and you're good. You will be forgiven for what you did to Taylor. On that, you have my word." She turned to go; he held up a hand. "And don't warn Sophia. Or the deal's off."
"I – I won't," she assured him.
A brief nod. "Good. You can go now. Call your father. You'll want him here. Just remember what it is that you'll be saying to him."
"Th-thank you," she told him. Turning, she hurried back to the others.
She barely heard his voice behind her. "No. Thank you."
<><>
Peter
"Ferguson."
"Why are you calling? Are there new developments?"
"Yes, sir, there are. Emma Barnes is gonna roll on Sophia Hess. She's giving her up."
"Well, that's good, but it's hardly surprising. Did you settle on recompense?"
"Well, that's the kicker. She gave me something else, which should be more than adequate."
"Which is?"
"Not something I would prefer to discuss over the phone, sir."
"It's that important?"
"I believe so, sir."
"And you think it's worth letting the Barnes family off for?"
"Even better. After this, we'll own them."
"Very well. I'll have you picked up from school. I need to know what you've got."
"Trust me, sir. You will not regret it."
"For both of our sakes, I hope not."
<><>
Kelly
Kelly was lounging at the front steps when the police cars rolled up. They stopped with a crunching of gravel in the No Standing section, and several officers got out. Three of them were women.
"Oh, hey," he called out. "You're here about the assault thing?"
In return, he got several suspicious looks. Admittedly, it was a bit of an odd one for him too, to be cooperating with the pigs, but Peter had told them it had to be this way, so that was the way they were playing it.
"What do you know about that?" asked one of the officers. "And what's your name?"
"Kelly Fitzgerald," he replied honestly. "I can show you where it happened, and where the perpetrators are."
"Okay, kid, let's go," the officer told him. "But screw us around, and you won't like what happens."
He shrugged. "Sure. I just wanna see justice done." And he even meant it, too. He hadn't thought much of Taylor when he first met her, but as Peter said, she was a sister. She hadn't folded on Bronson, and had even tipped him to bolt before the cops showed. That showed she had guts and brains both. What the nigger bitch and her race traitor girlfriend had done to her …
We shoulda just dragged them both out of here and shown them justice, Empire Eighty-Eight style. Let the redheaded bitch live, but let her see what happens to niggers who hurt our friends. Mentally, he shrugged. But Peter wants it this way, so it happens this way.
"Here's Taylor's locker," he told them, somewhat unnecessarily. "That shit was inside when she opened the locker. They shoved her inside, locked her in there."
The officers stared at the open locker, the still stinking mess spread over the floor around it. One got too close, and had to retreat, looking green. "Holy Christ," one muttered. "You got witnesses?"
"A metric fuck-ton," Kelly grinned, pulling his phone out. He started the file, and the officers watched, fascinated. When it finished, one of them held his hand out.
"Gonna need that phone, kid," he advised.
Kelly shook his head. "Sorry, not unless you got a warrant that says you can search the rest of my phone." He grinned. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."
The officer shook his head. "That's material evidence, kid. You do not want to be charged for withholding evidence."
Kelly shrugged. "Shit no, I don't want that. You want, I can send the file to you. Got a number?"
Several of the officers conferred, and one nodded. He quoted a number, and Kelly quickly sent the file to it. The officer confirmed that he had the file, and started playing it through again.
"Okay, where are the perpetrators?" asked another officer. "We need to speak to them, to the victim, and to any witnesses."
"Paramedics are also on the way," another officer told him. "Were there any injuries that we need to worry about?"
Kelly considered that. "Not that I can think of," he allowed, "but it probably wouldn't hurt to find out."
He led the rest of the officers to where Taylor and Peter were silently facing off Sophia and Emma; the black girl was still being held by the buzz-cuts, as Kelly privately thought of them. Emma wasn't being held, but Jenna was shadowing her pretty closely.
"Thank fuck you're here!" Sophia burst out. "These assholes are Empire Eighty-Eight, and -"
" - and we've seen the video footage, miss," the female officer in the lead told her. She waved to the boys holding her; at a nod from Peter, they let her go. She stood sullenly, rubbing her wrists.
"So who's Sophia Hess, and who's Emma Barnes?" asked the officer, pulling out her notebook.
"I'm Sophia Hess, and I need to make a private phone call," Sophia stated flatly.
"After I take your statement," the officer facing her replied, equally flatly.
Another woman cop approached Emma. "And you would be Emma Barnes?"
She nodded. "Yes. And my dad's a lawyer, and he's on his way in here now."
The officer grimaced; Kelly grinned to himself. He didn't like cops at the best of times, but having to deal with rat-bastard lawyer relatives of the people they arrested must be a royal pain in the ass. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for them.
Almost.
A third officer approached Taylor. "And you would be the victim, miss?"
Taylor nodded. "Yes." Her voice was quiet but firm. "My name is Taylor Hebert."
The female officer scribbled away, then nodded encouragingly. "Tell me everything that happened."
"Well," she began. "I was going to my locker … "
<><>
Sophia
"Not until I get my phone call," Sophia repeated stubbornly. "I'm not under arrest; you haven't read me my rights."
The police officer looked irritated. "Is this you in this video?" she asked, holding her phone so that Sophia could watch it.
She hadn't had a chance to see it before, having been at the back of the room when the Empire shit had played it to Blackwell. But it was pretty damning, even with the shaky picture and bad sound. However, she'd gotten away with a lot more through sheer audacity.
"No," she stated flatly.
"Well, here's your problem," the officer told her. "I think it is. I've been given your name in connection to the case, and this footage very strongly suggests that you were the one who shoved that girl into the locker. So I am arresting you on suspicion of aggravated assault and deprivation of liberty, with other charges pending, once they analyse the waste that was in that locker."
"But she's in the fucking Empire Eighty-Eight," Sophia insisted. Can't this bitch see that? "Why aren't you arresting her?"
"Because she's committed no crime that we can see," the officer told her patiently. "Whereas you have. Hands behind your back and turn around."
Sophia shook her head. "No. Fuck this. No. I don't get arrested. Let me make my fucking phone call." She began to move away from the cop, but suddenly she felt herself being grabbed and shoved face-first against the wall.
"Let me fucking go!" She struggled, but the officer was a good ten years older than her, possibly more. The woman was stronger, and had leverage on her side; she had Sophia's hands cuffed behind her in short order.
"You have the right to remain silent," panted the policewoman. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided for you." She took a deep breath. "Do you understand these rights as I have read them out to you?"
Sophia was silent, seething. She wanted to go to shadow, to shed these cuffs, to show this fucking flatfoot who she was dealing with, but she held back. Where had it all gone wrong? How had her righteous win over that fucking racist Hebert bitch turned into this?
"Miss Hess," the cop tried again. "I know you can speak. I know you can hear me. Do you understand your rights as I have read them out to you?"
Sophia gritted her teeth. Reading them their rights. Yeah, you go and do that, while I do the real work, cleaning up the fucking streets.
Another voice from behind her, male. "How's it going?"
"Okay. I've read her rights to her, but she isn't responding. Won't acknowledge."
"Hm. Let me try." The man leaned closer, took hold of her elbow. "Sophia Hess. Do you understand your rights, as my colleague has read them out to you?"
Fuck you. She stayed stubbornly silent. And then his thumb pressed on a nerve in her elbow joint, and she stiffened in pain. "Ow!" Almost, she went to shadow. But she restrained herself. You are so going to fucking regret that, you piece of shit.
"Oh, sorry," he replied, not sounding at all sorry. "But now that we know you can speak, would you mind answering the question?"
"Fuck – yes," she gritted. "I understand my fucking rights. Now can I please have my fucking phone call?"
"Given that you understand these rights," he carried on, ignoring her question, "are you willing to waive the right to silence, and speak to us on the matter at hand?"
She twisted around and glowered at him. "Not until I get my fucking. Phone. Call," she ground out, putting as much emphasis on her words as possible.
"Just one moment," he told her, and turned to the female officer. "Has she been searched yet?"
"Not yet," the woman told him. She looked Sophia over. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetie. The hard way involves a private room and rubber gloves. You want to go there?"
Sophia shook her head. Stubbornness had gotten her nowhere. "No. I do not want to go there."
Just bide my time until I can get my phone call, and unleash the hounds of hell on these fuckers.
"Good. Hold still."
Frisking her with cuffs on was a little awkward, but apparently neither of the cops was willing to remove them, and so that's how it happened. It was a little more personal than she had expected, but it was over relatively quickly. As it was, she wasn't carrying anything illicit, for which she was grateful; had she been, the female cop would have found it. She was quite thorough.
"Now can I have my phone call?" she asked, once it was done.
The two cops looked at one another. The male one shrugged. "Sure. May as well."
The female cop nodded. "Sure. But here's the question." She held up the two phones that she had taken from Sophia. "Which one? And why two phones in the first place?"
Because I'm a Ward, you dumb piece of shit.
"The newer one," Sophia told her. "And can I have my hands cuffed in front of me for this?"
With the male cop watching, the female cop uncuffed her hands and recuffed them, then gave her the PRT-issue phone. Fortunately, it didn't have any exterior markings to show it as such.
Taking a deep breath, she keyed in the PIN, making sure not to let the cops see it. Then she scrolled through the numbers until she found the one she wanted. Pressing Dial, she awkwardly held the phone up to her ear. The cops watched impassively.
The phone rang twice, then was picked up.
"Hi, Mom."
"Shadow Stalker. I presume that you are in police custody by now."
"Yeah, it's all good. When are you going to come pick me up?"
"We're not."
She blinked. "Sorry, what? I didn't get that."
"We're not going to pull you out of this. This is a criminal matter involving your public identity. You haven't revealed your secret identity yet, I hope?"
"Uh, no, no, that's all good," she managed. "But … "
"But nothing, Shadow Stalker," Director Piggot told her. "You will submit to arrest. You will let them take you downtown. We will pick you up there. You will not give them any reason to think that you are anything but who you say you are. You will not, under any circumstance, try to use your standing as a Ward to get out of this. Do you understand?"
"I, uh, yeah, but -"
"If you violate these orders, then we will consider you to be a criminal to be arrested," Piggot warned. "You've been getting away with this sort of thing for far too long. No more. It ends now." There was a click as the call ended.
The bottom fell out of Sophia's world. It didn't make sense. She always got away with this sort of thing. It was what she did.
I always win. I'm better than everyone else. I always win.
I never lose.
She put the phone away automatically, her mind working fast. Piggot gave me orders. Still a Ward.
A deep breath. She's a bitch, but she wouldn't cut me loose just like that. I didn't commit any crimes in costume, so this doesn't break my probation. Alan Barnes had made her read the terms and conditions of her probation, for which she was now grateful. I can't figure the outs if I don't know the angles.
She felt her heart rate slowing as she calmed herself. PRT coming here would out me. Pickup at the station, right. So say nothing. Don't even bother denying anything. Emma won't be saying anything either. When her dad gets here -
And then, in the silence around her, she heard Emma's voice. " … yes, she pushed Taylor down the stairs lots of times. And broke into her locker a few times. I remember once, she stole a flute that Taylor brought into school … "
Her brain whited out. Emma? How is this possible? She's giving me up?
SHE is giving ME up?
"FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!"
It took Sophia a moment to realise that the tearing, animalistic noise had been torn from her own throat. She didn't even bother going to shadow; straightening up with a lunge, she slammed the heels of her hands up under the chin of the larger, male officer. She was very fit for her age, and fairly strong. His head snapped back and he staggered backward; she began to turn to the female officer -
Too late, she registered the prongs of a stun-gun as they jammed into her ribs. The current crackled through her; she convulsed and fell to her knees. Even then, she tried to fight, tried to go to shadow, but it was too little, too late. The female cop hit her with the stun gun a second time.
This time, the lights went out.
<><>
Taylor
I ran my hands through my hair yet again, facing into the pounding spray of the hot shower. It felt heavenly. I had scrubbed myself all over, twice, and finally – finally – I felt clean again. Now, I knew, I was just indulging myself.
And what's wrong with a little indulgence?
I smiled to myself, and turned off the taps. Turning, I stepped out of the shower cubicle, accepting the towel that Jenna handed to me.
"Thanks," I told her, as I began to towel off. "But you really didn't have to come down here with me."
"Peter wanted me to stay with you," she pointed out. "I mean, I know that Emma and Sophia are in custody, but there might be one or two other idiots in the school who want to hurt you. After all, it wasn't always just those two, was it?"
I shook my head, spraying droplets. "No. Madison Clements was always one of them, up until this time, that is."
She smiled slightly. "She obviously realised that fucking with you is a losing proposition."
I chuckled. "No. Fucking with you guys is a losing proposition. I'm just along for the ride."
"More than that, I think," she pointed out. "Were you really serious about wanting to join?"
I shrugged. "Well, yeah," I told her. "I don't necessarily agree with everything you guys do, but fuck, you've protected me, and Peter saved me from the locker, and … fuck. What it was like in there … you do not want to know."
She nodded soberly, handing me my underwear. "I saw it from the outside. From a distance. I have to say, Taylor, you were badass in Blackwell's office. I mean, covered in shit, your own puke all over your shirt, and you still fucking gave it to her with both barrels."
I blushed to the roots of my hair, as I did up my bra. "I … well, it seemed to be the right thing to do. To say."
Jenna jerked her chin in an upward nod as I climbed into my gym sweats. "Well, it sure as hell impressed everyone there. Peter always said he saw something in you. Today, I saw what it was."
I ducked my head, trying not to blush again. "Yeah, well, let's hope it doesn't require me to be locked in a locker full of shit before I can be that way again, huh?"
She laughed and ruffled my still-damp hair. It felt good, comradely. "Yeah, let's hope so."
Peter was waiting at the entrance to the girls' shower room as we exited. He was also freshly showered and changed; I walked up to him and made a show of sniffing the air. Then I turned to Jenna, who was grinning broadly, and asked, "Where's Peter? I can't smell him anywhere."
Peter, chuckling warmly, put his arms around me; I snuggled into his embrace. "Mmm," I murmured. "There you are. You smell nice."
"So do you," he replied, just as softly.
"Thanks," I told him. "Actually, you know something? How we talked awhile ago about you being my boyfriend? That offer still open?"
He nuzzled my cheek. "Yeah, why?"
"Because I'm taking you up on it," I told him with a smile.
He stopped, still staring at me. "You're serious?"
I nodded. "Deadly. Is there a problem?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "No. No problem at all."
Tentatively, I leaned in toward him. He divined my intention, and mirrored my movement, tilting his head. Our lips met in a brief, warm kiss. It wasn't a kiss for the ages, and of passion there was barely anything. But it was my first kiss with a boy, and I felt a calm spreading through me, settling my racing thoughts.
I didn't kiss him again, not right away; once was enough.
For now.
End of Part Three
Part Four
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