Ghost Bird Fanfiction: Sang's Lyric, The Story of Sang Sorenson's Mother

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I tried to stay invisible. I didn't want to give people a reason to notice me or hate me. I just wanted to be another body in a sea of teenagers, but standing with three gorgeous boys wasn't the way to stay inconspicuous.

It was a trade off, I realized, standing in the shower naked, and watching Riley hold my towel, thinking she had me right where she wanted me. I could stay invisible, or I could stay with the boys. Easy enough; I chose the boys.

I watched her for a moment, debating my next course of action. She watched me too, one beautifully sculpted eyebrow raised, one lovely manicured fingertip holding my old bleached towel. Her hair was perfect, styled in graceful waves that looked natural, but I knew must have taken an hour to get right. She wore ripped jeans, but those rips were factory placed, not the result of age or inability to buy new clothes. This was a girl who didn't like to get dirty. She would fight with words, and intimidation, but I would bet she'd never really gotten physical before. Her carefully chosen wardrobe and expertly styled physicality, all the way down to her nails, made it obvious to me that she wouldn't want to be a mess, but I was always a mess and had to defend myself more times that I cared to remember.

So I was going to use that to my advantage.

I launched myself, naked, across the locker room at her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open right before I pushed her back with one hand and whipped the towel out of her hand with the other.

She flew backwards but got her balance and took a step toward me, like she wanted to fight.

I wrapped the towel around my body and held up a hand. "Are you sure you want to fight me?" I asked her.

She rolled her eyes at me, like it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard and she had absolutely no doubt that she would beat me down.

"Because you know where I come from," I said, walking toward her. "I live in a trailer. I get free lunch. My mom is on welfare. I wear old clothes and don't have a car. I have no money and nothing to lose. I can go to jail, no one would care, it wouldn't affect my future. But what about you?"


Riley's face paled a little and she took a step back.

"I don't care if my hair is pulled out of my scalp, and I don't have nails that can break when I rake them across someone's face. If I get pulled out of this locker room a mess, no one will be surprised. But what happens when you leave here and look the way you will after a fight? Do you think the boys will think you're beautiful when you're covered in tears and snot and your shirt is ripped and the heel on your fancy boot is broken so you have to limp to the cop car?"

Her faced paled further, making her look like a clown because the only color left was the bronzer that she'd put on.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said, looking down her nose at me.

I had no doubt that I would also be hurt if we fought. Riley was taller than me by six inches and heavier by ten pounds; that alone would give her an advantage.

But what I told her was the truth. The perfection she'd created this morning would be ruined if she wanted to fight me, and I had a feeling that she would do anything to protect her image.

I took a step forward and she backed into the row of locker, making the entire structure shake. A wire basket perched on top of it wobbled and crashed loudly to the floor, echoing through the tiled room.

Riley jumped again and moved out of the way, watching me closely. I stepped closer to the lockers, trying to move to the door in case she decided that she wanted to mess up her perfect hair and actually throw down.

"I don't get you," Riley said thoughtfully, the wicked glint leaving her eyes and making the tension drain out of me. "What do they see in you?"

I shrugged. I didn't know what they saw in me to begin with, but we had something now. Something beautiful and perfect that was worth any future pain.

I stood between Riley and the door and I moved aside, a silent hint to just go. I saw the moment she made up her mind that I wasn't worth it and breathed a sigh of relief. She still looked at me with disgust, but there was a tinge of something else in her gaze as well. She walked past me, shouldering me lightly, but my feet slipped on the tiled floor I had dripped all over. I hit the locker with my back and it shook, throwing me off balance. I had just enough time to see Riley's eyes widen in surprise before something hit me hard in the head, knocking me to the floor.

I blinked my eyes, but my wet hair was all over my face and dripping water, making it hard for me to see. I pushed my hair away and winced before noticing bright red blood covering my palm.

I looked up shocked at Riley.

She knelt next to me quickly. "Stay here," she said. "Here." She pushed a piece of clothing against my head. "Hold this. I'll be right back." 


"Hey!" I heard her yell down the hall. "Kell!"

I heard the door slam into the wall and then Kell's dark eyed face filled my vision.

"No no no no no," he started repeating, his brown face draining of blood. He wobbled and sat next to me, reaching out a shaking hand toward my face. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks and he got a far off look in his eyes. He slipped back, and though he was with me, it felt like his spirit left. I was left with a Kell-husk, but I was so discombobulated I couldn't figure out what had happened or what to do. My vision started to spin.

"Kell!" James' voice echoed tinnily off the tile.

"Tay," James directed. "See to Kell. I've got Lyric."

 
"Is she going to be okay?" I heard Riley ask.

"Just a cut," James said, kneeling next to me and gently peeling the fabric away from my head. His face blanched and I felt a new warm rush of liquid spill down my face. "Scars are sexy though," he whispered, forcing a smile for me.

"Kell," I whispered, looking over at Taylor who was gripping Kell's face and talking to him. Kell continued to stare at me blankly before blinking and then looking down at his hands that were stained with my blood.

"Taylor," Kell whispered, his voice rising in panic before looking at me."Lyric!"

"She's okay," Taylor repeated. "It's just a cut.

"Lyric!" he cried out, pushing away Taylor's hands and trying to crawl toward me. I reached out a hand toward him. He looked down at it and closed his eyes.

"The blood," he whispered. "I can't..." He opened his eyes again and was gone.

My Kell!

Somehow I was triggering something inside of him that made him retreat so far into himself that he made his spirit a tiny little speck of light, hidden inside his body.

"James," I cried. "Please help him."


"He'll be okay," James whispered, and then said aside. "How long?" 


"Two minutes," Taylor answered.

"We're going to the hospital, Lyric," James explained quietly. "He'll be okay. I promise. It's happened before, he'll be okay."

My vision colored deep red; hazier at the edges and tunneling until all I saw was James' wide eyes.

"Stay with me, Lyric," he demanded. "Keep your eyes open."


"I'm sorry Jamie," I whispered and let the red cover me.