So I updated a day early cause I'm going to busy during the weekend. This is honestly my favorite chapter, you know, out of the five that are there. The end of it was really fun to write. Enjoy weirdos ;P
Chapter Five
Going to school the next day is something I dread dearly. Only because I don't want to confront Quinton after he tried to kill me last night. So this is why I dragging out training this morning. I have a feeling Xander's getting very annoyed with me, by every sigh and dirty look he gives me.
"Can we do it again?" I ask fake-panting. I hold the bow in my hand in a defensive stance. Xander still making me practice combat because of Quinton. Xander rolls his eyes and groans for the fiftieth time today. That's the fifth time this morning we have practice bow combat. Every time I win by successfully knocking Xander down, but I still keep asking to redo it because, "I still don't get it."
"This is the fifth time today we have done this! You've perfected everything! There's nothing more to do!" He yells in frustration while pulling his tousled hair. I almost smile at how mad I'm making him, but then I remember I have to feign ignorance.
"Can you show me how to hold the bow again?" I ask innocently. Xander gives me a glare before running his fingers through his hair again.
"I know damn well that you know how to hold the bow." He states while looking at his watch. He's the only teenage boy that I know that actually carries a watch around. I move the bow into an awkward position and 'accidently' drop it to show how ignorant I am.
"Oops. I forgot." I say with a pout, looking at the bow on the ground. It's already seven thirty and usually we got done training thirty minutes ago. Xander just gives me another glare and picks up the bow. If looks could kill...
He shoves the thing in front of me and stands behind me. "Put your hands on the bow like this." He grabs my hand and puts it on the bow and takes the other to do the same. He spreads them out in a smart position.
"Spread your feet apart," He kicks my feet in position. "Keep your grip on the bow sturdy but flexible." He readjusts my grip on the bow and then looks at me when I turn my head back to face him.
"Got it now?" He asks sarcastically while looking me in the eyes. I stare back at him with a slight smile while he just keeps staring at me. We look at each other for the longest time until I break the silence.
"Oh my god, Xander! Are you wearing makeup?" I exasperate while dropping the bow so I could wipe the concealer under his eye off. He pulls back and puts his hands in front of his face.
"Pft, no! What are you talking about?" He asks nervously. He backs up enough that he hits the wall behind him. I keep him pinned against the wall with my knee digging into his legs and pry his hands away from his face.
"Cassidy, no! Stop it!" He yells. I roll my eyes and start to wipe the residue off his face. "NO! NO! FIRE! FIRE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" He starts to scream. By then I had successfully wiped all makeup off. I gape at his face.
His right eye is bruised black and his nose is red with bruises surrounding it. I gasp as Xander tries to cover his face again.
"What happened to your face?" I ask while letting him go from the wall. He hides his face behind his hands and turns his back to me.
"Nothing. You didn't see anything." He says Jedi-mind-trick like with a wave of his hands. I roll my eyes and walk over to him, prying his arms away from his face again. I examine the bruises once more. They don't look fresh, maybe a couple of days old, so I couldn't have had done it last night. I touch the bottom of his eye softly and he flinches.
Anger suddenly flares up in me. "Who did this to you?" I command with a stomp of my foot. I pull him up the stairs of the 'training room' and all the way into my kitchen. I get out the cream cheese and pull out a Popsicle from the freezer because I couldn't find a steak or a frozen bag of vegetables, like people use in movies.
"Um...no one did this to me..." He trails off nervously. I take a butter knife and stick it in the cream cheese. I move towards him with the butter knife and he backs away.
"What are you going to do with that?" He asks worriedly. I sigh and grab his shirt to pull him closer to me so I can put this on his face.
"Stop moving and just let it happen." I say softly. His eyes widen and he backs away from me again. He hits the sink in the processes.
"If you think that comment is going to reassure me, then you are mistaken." He tells me quietly. I pull him closer to me again and push him into a countertop.
"Get on the counter, now." I instruct sternly, not leaving any room for discussion. He follows through by pushing himself up on it with his hands. I wipe the cream cheese on his face slowly, making him shiver from the coolness.
"If no one did this to you, then what did it?" I ask while spreading the cream cheese thinner. He swallows noticeably and closes his eyes.
"I...I ran into a wall!" He shouts suddenly making me jump.
"Here, put this on your nose." I say handing him the cream-sickle when I regain my composure. He gives me a weird look before unwrapping the white plastic and putting it on his nose. "So, you ran into a wall...how did you do that?" I say slowly, like I'm talking to a little kid.
"Well...I...was playing Frisbee with Xavier." He says quickly. I shake my head; I smell lies all over this, and some cream cheese mixed into that as well.
"Are you going to tell me the truth or you just going to keep giving me unbelievable lies?" I ask while cocking my head to the side. He looks at me guiltily and turns his head to the side shamefully.
"Are you getting bullied, Xander? It's okay to tell me. I won't judge." I say reassuringly while rubbing his arm slowly. He gives me a 'What the hell' look and shakes his head.
"Trust me, I'm not getting bullied. Where did you get that idea?" He asks while shaking his head some more, like him getting bullied is the most absurd thing that ever came out of my mouth.
"Well the idea kind of formed when I saw your black-eye and swollen nose." I answer frankly. He turns his head again and the next thing I know I have cream cheese on my face. My mouth hangs open as he rubs the cold substances over my face.
"You didn't." I say bitterly when he stops.
"Oh, but I did." He interjects, smirking. I scoop out some more cream cheese and rub it on his face and parts of his neck.
And that is how Jaclyn found us in her kitchen. Xander, holding a Popsicle to his nose and covered in white cream and I, covered in the same white cream. Jaclyn holds her two brown paper bags in her hand while gaping at us with an extremely confused expression on her features.
"Well this is definitely an awkward way to find my teenage daughter and her male friend." She mutters while putting her bags down. She turns back to us with her hand on her forehead.
"Xander ran into a wall." I blurt out randomly, thinking it will help the situation from being less awkward. Jaclyn raises her brows and looks at the now empty tub of cream cheese.
"So you had to cover him and yourself in cream cheese and give him a cream-sickle Popsicle to put on his nose?" She asks skeptically while raising an eyebrow. I nod my head frantically and wipe some of the cream cheese off my face. Now that I think about it, this whole situation didn't seem too logical. She sighs and puts up her groceries, I feel less guilty when I see her pull out a new tub of cream cheese being put in the refrigerator.
"Isn't it kind of late for you to get out of training?" She asks while looking at her watch. I look at the clock on the microwave and almost have a heart attack. It's already eight fifteen. I run up stairs and take a shower. I hurry up putting my clothes on and brushing my teeth. I have to leave the house by eight thirty to get to school on time, even if it did start at nine. I hurry down stairs again and see Jaclyn making oatmeal.
She puts it in a plastic container and gives it to me, along with a bottle of orange juice. "Next time, Cassidy, don't waste your time rubbing cream cheese on your male friends."
"But Jac, he needed something to stop the swelling." I complain as a grab my backpack from the couch in the living room.
"You could have had given him an icepack. That's what I gave him when he left." She says simply, making me feel dumb. I face-palm my forehead and groan at my stupidity. We have tons of icepacks because I used to always get hurt in training when I first started.
"Thank you Jaclyn for pointing out that I'm a dumb." I say while walking out the door. She just laughs while wishing me a good day. I meet up with Xander and Taylor and we start our route to school. Xander had obviously reapplied his makeup; no bruises are evident on his face.
"Xander told me what happened with Quinton. That's so scary!" She shrieks while holding her hands up. I start to eat my oatmeal with the plastic spoon Jaclyn gave me. I nod my head and take another bite. "What possessed someone so attractive to try to kill you?" She questions while checking herself in a small handheld mirror she always keeps with her.
"Taylor, attractiveness has nothing to do with personality. For example, Xander's not attractive and he has a great personality," I explaining. Xander gives me a glare and a scoff. "Well for the most part he does." I finish and take another bite of oatmeal. Xander gives me another glare and takes away my precious oatmeal from my hands.
"Give that back!" I yell while attacking Xander with Taylor laughing at us. Xander holds the plastic container above his head. Because he's like six-foot-something, it's almost impossible for me to reach because of my five-foot-one height.
"No!" He yells back. I punch him in the stomach. He drops the bowl and I catch it before it hits the ground. He groans and lies in the ground holding his stomach-or maybe it's his crotch. Oh, did I punch him there also? Oops.
Taylor laughs like crazy while Xander curls up into a pull and rocks back and forth holding his male anatomy. I look the other way while Xander keeps making groaning noises. I really didn't know I punch that hard. Then again, I really don't know my own strength.
After a few minutes I decide we are going to be late for school if we keep standing here like potatoes-well expect for Xander who's lying down like a potato. I walk over to Xander and pick him up. I throw him over my shoulder and start walking again without breaking a sweat. Just one of the advantages of being a super hero. "Let's go now, Taylor." I instruct while she laughs at Xander's current position. Once Xander realizes that I'm carrying him, he starts to flail his body.
"Let me go! I'm okay now!" He yells, he obviously doesn't like to be carried. I let him down quickly to avoid further impediment of my friends, from school. He brushes his pants and walks with a slight limp.
"I'm thirsty." Taylor randomly tells us. I throw her my un-open orange juice and she catches it with a "thank you". She opens it and starts drinking it greedily.
"Are you okay?" I ask looking a Xander, who's still limping a little. I didn't know I hit that hard. Now I feel bad for Xander and his little friend.
He nods and answers, "Yeah, but that hurt a lot. You should be lucky you're a female and don't have a penis-or at least you shouldn't have one. That would be really awkward if you did." I think about his answer for a minute, contemplating on what to say next.
"Do you need cream cheese on that too?" I ask with a serious face. Taylor chokes on my orange juice in a fit of coughs.
"W-what!?" She exclaims while still trying to get the burning orange juice out of her lungs. Xander glares at me and gives me a 'shut up' look. I just laugh at their reactions.
"Um...bagels!" I randomly shout and run off ahead of them, into the school grounds. When I get into the school, everyone that can see me stops talking and stares. I reposition my bag and keep walking with my head down. But they keep staring at me, like I'm something fascinating or something disgusting. I get both looks. When I get to my locker everyone starts to whisper.
"Who does she think she is?"
"She probably thinks she's better than everyone else here."
"She's not really Thunder, she's just a liar trying to steal Carley's spotlight."
"I hate her."
They think that I can't hear them, but I can hear them damn well. Stupid super hearing. The whispers fill the whole hallway; I can no longer point out one whisper from another. They all come together into one ear-piercing noise. I cover my ears and bang my head on my locker. My head feels like it's going to explode.
The whispers get louder and my head pounds harder. Shit, I have to get out of here. I run to my first class with almost inhuman speed, probably not this best idea to give another thing for them to talk about. But I can't take it anymore!
I finally reach the languages area of the school and enter AP Spanish 6. Thankfully it's almost silent in the classroom, since the students are busier trying to finish their five pages of homework due today before class starts, than to exploit Thunder. I slide into a seat and lay my head on the graffiti-covered desk. I rub my temples and breathe slowly. Would it be weird if a superhero carried around an inhaler?
I tense up when I feel someone sit next to me. Someone with a really high energy pulse that rattles me to my bones. "How does it feel it be out-ed?" Quinton asks smugly. I clench my fist, naked longing fills me-my fist are telling me to tell me to punch him in the face so he can just shut up. I agree with my fists on this one.
"What are you doing here?" I ask bitterly.
"My mission isn't complete yet, so I'm staying here until it is."
"And what could your mission be?" I question sarcastically. Is he a power ranger or something that has little save-the-world missions to complete?
"To eliminate the target." He answers me bluntly. I hold back an oncoming shudder; I can't shake the feeling that I know who his 'target' is. I turn to finally look at him and laugh once I see his face. Bruises cover almost all of his face, probably from when Xander banged him on the head with a pipe. At least he isn't wearing makeup like Xander is. Why was Xander wearing makeup anyway? It's not I, or anybody else at the school cares if he has bruises.
"Nice face." I say with a smirk. His fist clench and his jaw sets tightly.
"Don't you even bring that up. It's your fault." He says coldly. My mouth opens in shock. How is this guy blaming this on me?
"No-it's your fucking fault for trying to kill me! Which you failed at by the way!" I shoot back maliciously, the best I can do is rub his failure in his face. How dare he blame his inability to kill me, on me! His fist clench tighter at my words, but before he can respond Senor Raquel starts the class.
After AP Spanish 6, I hurry to my next class to avoid what happened this morning. I duck my head and enter AP Calculus, hoping that people won't notice me. But because of my inability to go unnoticed by a bunch of people looking for me, everyone noticed me. I sit in the way back, trying to be incognito; but everyone just turns around to look at me. Then, I feel Quinton come strolling in, but I don't look at him.
It is then the whispering happens. It's also the same time the teacher starts the class that no one is paying attention to.
"Too bad the new guy is a bit physco, he's really hot."
"I really don't care that he throw a knife at Carley's head, I like bad guys."
"I wonder how he got those bruises. Probably street fighting; all bad boys are street fighters."
I just roll my eyes at these comments those ignorant girls (and occasionally a guy) say. If they knew who the real Quinton is, a cold-hearted murder, they wouldn't be saying things like this. They would be running for their precious lives.
It are these next comments that make my blood boil.
"And that attention-thirst girl-what's her name again? Cassandra or something."
"I really wished that bitch didn't dodge that knife, she deserves to die. He should've just finished the job."
"Yeah like really, she needs to just die. I can't believe that she told National News Network that she's the real Thunder."
"Seriously, like, lying bitch much?"
My fist clench and my toes curl as I look out the old, dirty windows aligned horizontally on the wall, trying to calm my enragement down. The clouds are dark and gloomy and full of moisture. I see a flash a lightning in the distance and a crackle of angry thunder in the near-distance. Funny, the news didn't predict it was going to storm today.
These girls are pathetic! They think they know everything just because they have a big ego. I wonder how they would feel if they knew I'm actually the real Thunder. Would they cry because they were dead wrong? Or would they bitch to their just-as-stuck-up friends about how I faked it somehow?
I finally get my anger under control by thinking about their dead-end lives that I can almost guarantee are going to happen. That's until a last comment sends me over the edge.
"She doesn't even deserve to live. She just is a waste of space here in Plomiting. I'm going to finish the job that Quinton never did."
White-hot blaring, blinding, raging anger courses through me like a rapid heartbeat. My fists clench so hard that my nails break skin. My teeth clench so tightly that I think a tooth chips. I narrow my eyes at the landscape outside the school.
Then the sound of glass breaking into thousands of millions of pieces fills the small room like an orchestra. Girls squeak and cry while covering their heads with their arms. Boys do the same but take the smarter approach by ducking under their desks. The windows shatter one by one, raining the room with their glass pieces.
Outside, rain is coming down in pellets. The eighty mile wind blows the rest of the glass pieces that lingered on the window sill, into our classroom, making it rain once again. Lightning strikes every point-five seconds. Thunder booms from above the school making the students in the classroom cry out in fear again.
I sit in my seat with my eyes closed. I don't care that glass is covering me, cutting into my skin deeply. I don't care that I'm getting wet from the pounding rain the wind brings in. All that matters is the detestable enrage that bakes inside me. I feel so much power pulse inside me. So much hateful power that makes me tremble in pure pleasure. Who knew hatred could feel so damn good?
I suddenly feel the withdrawal of the power, making me long for another taste. Reality sets in and my sense come back to me. I open my eyes when another crackle of thunder booms from above me.
It hadn't realized that someone had pulled the fire alarm while I was oblivious in my own thoughts. All the students had fled the room and were now probably outside in the soaking rain, waiting for the Plomiting Fire Department. Well every student except one. Quinton still sits at his desk that was on the same row as mine, but a few desks across from mine.
He brushes the glass off of his jacket and stands up with stiffness in his limbs. He's bleeding from various shallow wounds all over his face and body. They're multiple slits in his pants and jacket, but he seems oblivious to all this. Like I am.
"This is why I have to kill you." He suddenly says without looking at me. He looks at his arm, which has a small piece of glass sticking out of it. He pulls it out and cringes a bit. He throws it on the ground somewhere and then looks at me with pure hatred in his expression. I stand up, feeling stronger than ever before. This power feels just so damn good. I've never felt anything close to this before. Is this adrenalin or something bigger?
I smirk widely at him, feeling invincible. "How can you kill something that's smarter and stronger than you?" I ask with a cock of my head and a raised eyebrow. I keep smirking when he doesn't reply. Honestly, he looks a bit scared. I laugh, his fear is amusing me.
I walk ahead to the glassless windows, feeling the now smooth frame. Rain pounds on me, making me fully soaked. But honestly, I don't feel a thing.
"You must really want to kill me off very badly if you're willing to die for it." I state and turn my head to look at him. He tries to stare back at me with as much intensity as I am him, but all I see is hesitation and fear in those blue eyes.
"Well I don't really plan on dying." He replies back hard. I raise both of my eyebrows and whistle lowly.
"That's some confidence you got there. See, if you just had a little slither of common sense you wouldn't be here conversing with me. You'd be running for your dear life." I examine his features. Sweat forms on his forehead and on the side of his face. His eyebrows crease and he bites his lip. "But honestly, if I had no control over my anger and my temptations, then I wouldn't be here conversing with you either. I would be snapping your neck while you beg for your dear life."
I step over the glass that makes a loud crunching noise. I walk over to Quinton slowly with a grin still on my face. He reaches into the inside of his jacket to pull out something, but I saw it coming before he even started the action. I yank the knife out of his inside pocket with ease. He gasps and steps back.
I toy with the knife in my hands. The hilt has the same intricate symbols covering it like his other weapons. "Trying to be sly, now are we?" He takes another step back and hits the wall. I feel kind of bad for him, he thinks he's going to die in AP Calculus; and that is sure a sucky way to die.
"That's going to be the fourth weapon you've taken from me in the past two days." He points out, regaining his composure for a moment. I laugh at his little confident statement and nod my head.
"Well I guess you shouldn't flaunt your toys around a thief." I take another step closer, but he doesn't move this time. I think he has accepted his inevitable fate. You can hear the fire trucks in the near-distance. I only have a short amount of time left now.
"I don't get it why you're so afraid right now. It's not like I'm going to kill you." I say with feign confusion. My eyebrows draw together and I tilt my head to the side. His expression shows pure shock and confusion.
"You're not going to kill me?"
"Yup, you heard right, Mr. Evans."
"Why not?" He asks with surprise still laced in his voice. I shrug and play with his sharp knife some more.
"Because unlike you, I have no reason to kill. Not even a reason to almost kill you. You might've had tried to kill me, but your name is just adding on to that list. I've had many criminals and bad guys try to kill me, and they still want to kill me. But I've never killed them, not even hurt them badly. No-being a town protector is more than just hurting 'bad guys'. I do this job to protect my town for danger, even if my town doesn't like me or doesn't even know who I am. I'm just in it for the good, not the evil." I explain while holding the blade of the knife across my hand. Quinton still has the expression of shock and confusion-and maybe some realization.
I press down the knife and slide is down my hand slowly. I ignore the stinging sensation and continue sliding down until the knife has cut all the way across my hand. Blood covers most of the blade while my wound drips blood onto the glass covered floor. I hand Quinton the knife and he just looks at it with confusion.
"Come on take it! I left a little of my blood on there for you dad's purposes. He might want to know your progress on eliminating the target." I hand the knife back out and he takes it this time, but still with a little hesitation. The sirens are very close now. "You should probably go now. The fire department is here." I warn with a sly smile over my shoulder and then run and jump out of the window, leaving Quinton starring after me.