I want to be a normal girl.
A normal girl, with normal girl problems. Problems like what I'm going to wear to the formal, who my date will be.
Not problems like I wonder if the government will find me today. Normal girls do not deal with government problems. My name is Riley Calyei, pronounced like Cal-yay-eh. Riley is a fairly easy name to pronounce, so I won't tell you. (In case you need it though, it's Rye-lee.)
I want to be normal, like I said earlier. So normal that no one would have a reason to think otherwise. But no. Life isn't fair, I guess. When I was born, this phenomenon was going around, and apparently you were nobody unless you tried it. It was a chemical that manipulated birth somehow, and put the subject into immediate labour, no matter what stage of life your baby was at. I had been in the womb for two weeks longer than usual, so my parents thought it'd be for the best.
Now, they hadn't known the drug had side effects; it was brand new and it was a crazy time. But, of course, it affected me. I learned at a young age (and I mean young age) that I wasn't like the other kids. I'd learned from movies and tv shows that people who were different were cast out, so I kept it a secret from everyone, even my parents. (I was young and afraid they'd kick me out, alright.)
If I try really hard, I can make time go backwards. I mean, it's better if I look at a clock, or a watch, so I can know when to stop, but it works either way. Pretty awesome thing, right? So why would I hide it?
You see, we live in a society where anyone who is thought to have inhumane abilities or powers are ratted out to the government, even neighbours you thought you could trust. I don't know how anyone could find out about my power, but they could, and the thought of being locked in a white, padded cell for 24 hours every day scares me a little.
Apart from the powers, I'm as normal as a person can get, I guess. I'm not bullied at school, and my home life isn't bad, I'd actually consider myself really well off in the personal area. (Apart from the powers. They kind of suck sometimes, a little.)
But I never really was a popular girl. You see them and sigh, thinking they're the queen bees. In a way, they are. Leading a group of brainwashed others behind them in their quest for power. God, I hate popular girls.
School isn't too bad. I have a few friends and I sit at the back of the class, mostly just watching out the window until the teacher yells at me to listen, followed by my classmates laughing. I have good grades. (Not so much in science, though)
I should probably go to school now, considering it starts in ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
And it takes twenty to get there.
I am so dead.
-
Davis was staring at me. I could feel it. Not in a like, supernatural way, more in a I-can-feel-you-looking-at-me-and-it's-making-me-uncomfortable way. I turned to him and stared back, and instead of staring at me, a wide smile spread across his face and didn't leave. (for about two minutes. Do you know how disturbing that is, someone staring at you and grinning for two straight minutes? It's disturbing.)
"What?" I asked. He shook his head and Allie smacked his arm, and he winced.
"Stop staring. It's rude." Allie told him while he rubbed his arm. That dumb smile made it's way onto his face again.
"I can't. It's just.." He sighed. "You haven't watched Doctor Who for a straight week. I'm proud." Allie rolled her eyes and continued eating, shutting us out.
Davis is the only person who knows about the time thing, and is the only person I trust so whole-heartedly with the secret. But, saying 'your time travelling powers' in public is most likely a bad idea, so he resorts to calling my powers 'Doctor Who'. Not that I mind. From what I've heard, it's a good show.
"You know, one day she'll grow suspicious." I mentioned, taking a bite from my sandwich. Davis frowned.
"How?" I rolled my eyes.
"She'll notice the lack of merchandise I own," I said, little bits of bread flying out. Davis flinched away, dodging them like footballs.
"You don't need merchandise to be a fan of something. Do you see me owning any merchandise for Sherlock?" He asked. I nodded, thinking of his room. The mess was everywhere, and you could barely see his floor.
"You have a few posters of Benedict Cumberbatch." I teased. He laughed loudly, a few people looking at us weirdly.
That was ok. A lot of people looked at us weirdly.
-
The rest of the day was normal. Davis was standing next to me while I got my books for homework into my bag, and he kept complaining every few seconds about how slow I was being.
"God, Riley! You could at least try to go a little faster, spare my sanity!" He stressed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. I laughed and shut my locker, clicking the lock into place after. I swung one of the black straps over my shoulder, Davis sighing in relief.
"Oh, thank god. Are you coming to my house to study?" He asked. I nodded, murmuring a yes.
We walked through to the back of the school, where Davis' house was only five minutes away. I had already called my parents to tell them I'd be late home, and they told me they'd save me some dinner. (Fish and chips. Awesome.)
Davis and I reached the courtyard, (aka, the final stretch between us and freedom.) and saw a group of twenty or so people cheering. I looked to Davis for an explanation, and he shrugged helplessly. I moved forward, going right through the crowd of people. (I mean, it was difficult. People are so vicious.)
Two guys were in the middle of the crowd, and I groaned. The last time there was a fight at school, my whole homeroom had to stay back and clean tables for two weeks as punishment. My hands cry themselves to sleep when the memory re-surfaces. Davis said something, but I didn't hear, trying too hard to listen to the fight.
"What did I say? I said don't touch her!" One of them yelled. He was in my Science class, though. The other guy paled, looking around for help.
"I-I'm sorry,"
"I'm sorry isn't good enough, nerd!" Say what you will about my school, that it's horrible and doesn't teach us anything, but 'nerd' is quite possibly the biggest insult you've ever seen over here. We're so old school, right? A collective gasp ran through the crowd.
"Trent, stop!" Some girl ran out into the crossfire, placing her manicured hands on Trent's chest. Oh, Trent. That dude that always yells out the wrong answer in class, but still gets straight A's.
"No, babe, I got this." Trent pushed the girl behind him, cracking his knuckles. The other guy flinched at every small noise, backing away until he finally hit the crowd barrier. Two girls laughed evilly and pushed him forward, and he hit Trent's chest with a dull thud.
Other Guy (as I've now dubbed him) backed away, and Trent advanced forward. In the space of a second, Trent's fist connected with Other Guy's face, resulting in the most sickening (yet disturbingly satisfying) crack you could ever hear. Other Guy's whole body turned in the same direction as his head, and he fell to the ground, head bouncing a few times on the concrete before resting, somewhat peacefully. Trent smirked down at his body and wrapped an arm around the girl, sauntering away. The crowd slowly cleared and Davis and I looked at each other. Davis looked worried and I'm sure I looked the same.
I don't think anyone else noticed, but even if you're unconscious, you still breathe. Well, Other Guy's chest wasn't rising and falling like it does when you breathe. Now, he could be breathing through his nose, but even then your chest will still inflate then deflate.
I dropped my bag next to Davis and slowly approached Other Guy, crouching down next to his (presumably) dead body. I reached my hand out and placed two fingers on the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse.
There wasn't one.
