Freaks of Greenfield High
By Maree Anderson
Chapter Four
Jay exited the classroom after last period, and allowed herself to be swept up in the rush of kids heading for their lockers to ditch their books.
Her most challenging lesson today had been learning how best to project mediocrity. Unfortunately, nothing in her construction or programming had prepared her for mediocrity, and she'd come perilously close to standing out from the crowd in second period Mathematics.
After observing her classmates' reactions when she'd voiced but a minute portion of her extensive knowledge, she deemed it prudent to pretend she'd merely made a few lucky guesses. The next time she'd been called upon by the teacher, she'd shrugged and appeared confused. The time after that, she'd asked the teacher to repeat the question, and then given an incorrect answer. As the day had progressed, she was satisfied she'd gotten the hang of revealing enough knowledge to convince the teachers she was a good student, while convincing her classmates she was not especially gifted.
An anomaly in the way the crowd was moving demanded Jay's attention. She spotted a couple of girls standing whispering, forcing students to fan out to avoid them. The first girl held herself stiffly, muscles tensed and jaw working. Flags of crimson painted her cheekbones. She had auburn hair cut into a sharp chin-length bob. She wore black leggings and a deep purple scoop-neck tunic, belted at the waist with a gold cord. Her lip tint matched the gold cord. So did her low-heeled sandals. Glued to her side was a girl whose t-shirt was very tight, and whose red shorts were shorter than any other shorts Jay had seen on a female student.
Jay dismissed them and opened her locker.
Purple Tunic Girl marched up to her and said, "First and last warning, sweetie. Keep your paws off my boyfriend."
Jay swept her gaze over the girl, analyzing her bone structure, facial features, and mannerisms. "Hello, Caro," she said, in a pleasant, conversational tone. "I wondered how long it would take you to introduce yourself."
Caro's companion took that statement as a signal to take matters into her own hands. Jay noted the indicators and tensed her stomach muscles in preparation. When the blow came, it was hard enough that if Jay had been a fragile human female, it would have caused a substantial bruise.
Amidst gasps of "Omigod, did you see that?" from kids who'd witnessed the gesture, Jay heard her attacker inhaling with a hiss that indicated pain. She didn't bother to verify how badly the girl might have injured her hand. The girl's pain was not Jay's concern. She was only interested in gauging Caro's reaction to her friend's behavior.
Caro's jaw sagged. "Vanessa!"
From the strangled tone of Caro's voice and her horrified expression, Jay guessed Vanessa's actions had been unexpected, shocking. Apparently Tyler's sister preferred to intimidate with words rather than actions. That was useful to know. Jay switched her full attention back to the girl who'd hit her.
Vanessa flexed her fingers, and as the girl blinked back tears, Jay noted her pupils were abnormally dilated. Abuse of pharmaceuticals would certainly explain Vanessa's misplaced aggression. "You should go now," Jay said to her. "This is none of your concern."
The girl's pink-slicked lips curled into a sneer. "Is that so?"
Jay dulled the hue of her irises, leaching the color until the intense azure faded to a flat, cold, gunmetal gray. She'd done this before to good effect. She couldn't permanently alter her eye color, but she'd discovered that even a brief, temporary alteration unnerved people.
She took a step toward Vanessa. And another. The girl swallowed another whimper, of fear rather than pain this time, and backed off.
"Hey!"
Tyler's sister grabbed Jay's arm. Jay remembered just in time she was supposed to be a "normal" girl, and allowed herself to be dragged around to face Caro. She wasn't programmed to remain passive when someone attacked her, but these sharp little impulses flicking beneath her skin, urging her to retaliate, weren't usual. She ignored them. She wasn't hurt and nor was she in danger. There was no reason to act on those impulses.
Caro raked her gaze over Jay's attire, lingering on the borrowed flannel shirt. A frown puckered her brows, and her eyes narrowed to slits.
The odds that Caro recognized the shirt were high. It would be interesting to note how Caro reacted if she realized the shirt was her brother's, and that he'd loaned it to the new girl who supposedly had designs on Caro's boyfriend.
Shawn, too, had surprised Jay with his observational skills. The very next time he'd seen her, he had immediately recognized the shirt and made the connection with Tyler. His lips had flattened into a tight white line, and he'd made a derogatory comment about Jay's borrowed attire.
As the school day had progressed, Shawn insisted on sitting next to her wherever possible, and continually slipped disparaging remarks about Tyler into the conversation. Jay had finally realized the remarks were because Shawn was angry.
A knot formed in her stomach at the mere thought of Tyler being harassed by Shawn and his cohorts. Tyler had done nothing wrong. He didn't deserve to be punished for being kind, and worrying about her wellbeing.
"I'll say this in plain English so even you can understand," Caro was saying. "Stay away from Shawn, or I'm gonna make you very sorry."
Jay didn't bother responding to Caro's outlandish claim. But Shawn was another matter, an irritation she would happily be rid of. She'd very politely asked him to please stop bothering her, but apparently Shawn was not intelligent enough to understand her request. And Caro appeared to hold Shawn blameless for his actions, placing the fault squarely on Jay, whose only crime was being the unwilling object of Shawn's attention. It made no sense. She'd actively discouraged him. Perhaps being completely honest with Caro would bring about the desired result.
"You have nothing to worry about so far as Shawn is concerned," she said. "I have no interest in him. In fact, after suffering his attentions at the office this morning, and during three classes today, I find myself in total agreement with your brother. Shawn is a douche. And you deserve better."
Caro blinked at her. Her lips twitched. "Speaking of my brother, I heard what happened in Bio. Thanks for looking out for him."
They were statements, not questions, so Jay remained silent.
"He loaned you his shirt, didn't he?" Caro probed.
Jay didn't see any reason to prevaricate. "Yes. I washed out my t-shirt and he was concerned about me wearing a wet top. It was very kind of him to loan me his shirt."
"Yep. Sounds like Tyler, all right—the whole give you the shirt off his back thing, I mean. Hey, it looks way better on you than it did on him, anyway."
Jay glanced down at her shirtfront. "Thank you. Tyler tied the shirt in this fashion. He seemed to think it looked more attractive this way."
Caro's lip-twitching became more pronounced. If she wasn't careful, it might morph into a smile.
Behind Jay, Vanessa uttered a strangled-sounding gargle, and took advantage of Jay's apparent inattention to grab a handful of her hair.
"Cat-fight!" someone yelled.
The kids milling around in the corridor found a common purpose. They pushed and shoved, trying to get closer so they didn't miss out on the promised entertainment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Vanessa?" Caro squawked, and then turned to elbow someone who'd jostled her. "Hey! Back off, jerk-face!"
Vanessa yanked harder on her handful of Jay's hair and in response, Jay arched her back until she had an excellent view of the stained, gray ceiling tiles. Having her hair pulled didn't bother Jay. She could have resisted and left Vanessa with a hank of hair as a trophy. Sure, Jay would have had a bald patch on her scalp, but the missing hair would soon re-grow. What bothered Jay right now was that her current position restricted the scope of her vision.
It was time to rectify the situation—without loss of hair. She arched backward in a gymnastics-style bridge, hands reaching for the floor.
The unexpectedness of her actions startled Vanessa into a shocked shriek, and she released Jay's hair to scramble backward.
Jay's hands contacted with the floor. She kicked up to balance on her hands, and resisted the instinctive desire to lash out at Vanessa with her feet. The girl was not a true threat and there was no need to disable her.
For five seconds, Jay remained upside down, balanced on her hands, her body arrow-straight with feet in the air and toes pointed, giving those nearby the opportunity to get clear before she bent her elbows, abruptly straightened them and pushed off with her hands to bounce upright.
"Shee-it!" someone said. "Nice moves."
Before Vanessa could react to this new development, Jay snaked out her hand and grasped Vanessa's wrist. She pulled the girl toward her until they were face-to-face. "What is your issue with me, Vanessa? I've done nothing to you. I told Caro I have no interest in Shawn. There was no reason for you to attack me again. I am inclined to conclude you are either—" she sought the correct slang term "—high, or that you have feelings for Tyler and you are jealous that he helped me."
Vanessa's heavily made-up cheeks flushed with uneven blotches that crawled down her neck. "Me, high? That's rich!" Her gaze slid sideways. When she met Caro's raised eyebrows, she flinched and ducked her head, and then tried to pull from Jay's grasp.
Jay held on to Vanessa's wrist, ignoring her pathetic struggles. She gazed at the students who'd gathered, clearly expecting more entertainment. After selecting what seemed to be the most appropriate response, she twisted her face into a sneer. "Go away. There's nothing more to see here."
Staring students suddenly found more interesting things to concern themselves with.
Excellent. Practicing her facial expressions in the mirror had achieved the desired results.
When they were no longer the center of attention, and the noise level in the hallway had resumed its usual boisterous levels, Caro confronted Jay. "Look. I'm really sorry about this. It wasn't supposed to get physical. I just wanted to warn you off Shawn."
The tight strain in Caro's voice was congruent with her overly wide, worried eyes. Jay calibrated Caro's non-verbal physical responses and concluded she meant every word.
"Your apology is accepted," Jay said. Her gaze cut to Vanessa. "I'm still waiting for yours."
"Sorry," Vanessa muttered, tugging on her wrist to free herself from Jay's grip, and sounding anything but apologetic.
For some reason that Jay couldn't define, Vanessa's rudeness irritated her as much as Shawn's persistence. She waited until Vanessa threw her weight backward in an attempt to free herself again, and without warning, released the girl's wrist.
Vanessa overbalanced and landed on her butt, legs sprawled, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
A bunch of kids who'd witnessed the incident snickered and whispered to each other. Vanessa's face turned a shade of red that almost matched her shorts.
"Sorry," Jay said, matching Vanessa's tone exactly. She slammed the door of her locker and walked off, leaving Caro to deal with her companion in whatever way she chose.
"Skanky bitch!" Jay heard Vanessa say.
"You had it coming, Nessa," came Caro's response. "You're real lucky she didn't smack you a good one after what you pulled. Look, we've got practice and you need to get your head in the game. You know what Bettina's like. She'll drop you from the squad if you screw up again. We'll talk about this later, 'kay?"
"Whatever."
Jay's lips curved. Yes, Vanessa had deserved "it". And strangely enough, her confrontation with Vanessa had eased the hollow feeling in her belly.
She'd endured this strange feeling since eavesdropping on Tyler in the music room at lunchtime. Unseen and unnoticed, Jay had lurked outside the room, spellbound by the guitar riffs spilling from the gap beneath the closed door.
The ability to create a song or an instrumental piece was one of the rare human abilities Jay could not mimic. She could play any instrument, competently recite any piece of music after hearing it only once, but it was beyond her abilities to create anything new. Tyler's music, his voice, and the words he'd sung.... The combination had been raw and powerful. Haunting.
I wake in the dead of night,
And you're not there.
I call your name,
But there's no answer.
You're gone,
Half of what I am is yours.
And I'm lost without you....
As Jay had listened, a vast emptiness had welled up inside her. Logic dictated the hollow feeling was merely a result of her body's requirement for sufficient sustenance. However, eating a snack from a dispensing machine outside the cafeteria had done little to dispel it. She did not comprehend how mere words put to music could have a physical effect on her.... Or why physically bettering an opponent could help alleviate the symptoms. It bore further investigation.
She pushed through the exit doors, blinking once to accustom her eyesight to the brightness after the gloom of the poorly lit corridor. As she cut through the car park, she noticed Tyler lurking amongst the bunch of students who had congregated in the bus bay. She suspected from the stiffening of his posture that he'd spotted her, but was pretending he hadn't.
This must be what was meant by "playing it cool".
Jay didn't understand how to reciprocate, how to project "coolness" in return. Had kissing Tyler this morning been playing it cool?
She didn't know.
She did know it had been uncharacteristic, acting on an impulse that had surged through her body and hijacked her brain. Like now, when her arm, seemingly of its own volition, lifted to acknowledge him with a wave.
Tyler waved back.
Jay felt a wave of heat wash over her, forcing her to adjust her core body temperature. She mulled this new anomaly as she waited for the traffic to clear so she could cross the street. When she got back to her apartment, she would run a full diagnostic to discover the root cause of these minor malfunctions.
"Hey, Tyler! Can you spare a minute?"
The shout prompted Jay to glance over her shoulder. She saw a man beckoning from the open window of a classroom, prompting Tyler to jog back toward the entrance doors.
Jay mentally shuffled through the staff photos and identified the man as the school's music teacher, Mr. Whaley. If she waited around for a while, perhaps she could strike up a conversation with Tyler when he'd finished with the teacher. It would be interesting to learn more about his musical abilities.
Bettina's strident voice floated up from the field, haranguing Caro and Vanessa for being five minutes late to practice. Jay drifted over to observe the cheerleaders from the shadows afforded by the overhanging roof of the school hall.
A bunch of guys sauntered over to plant their butts on the bleachers, and ogle the girls in their short skirts. One of them puckered up and blew a noisy kiss at Bettina. "Hey, B! Shake it for me, baby!"
Bettina tossed an evil look over her shoulder. "Get lost," she told him. "And quit gawking at the guy-candy!" she yelled at those of her squad who had dared to giggle. "Next girl who effs up because her mind's not on the routine is getting benched!"
It was obvious that Bettina took her job as cheer captain very seriously.
Jay watched the squad run once through their routine and then turned away. She could do the tricks with her eyes closed. Not that she didn't appreciate the difficulty and the skill involved for humans to perform such maneuvers, but it held no particular fascination for her.
All the buses had arrived and departed before Tyler appeared again. He surveyed the empty bus bay, glanced at his watch. His shoulders slumped.
Jay jogged toward him as he headed out the school gates.
Tyler's head shot up when he heard her approach, and in the instant before he blanked his expression she saw pleasure. "May I walk with you?" she asked.
"Sure. I'm headed this way." He jerked his chin to the left.
"I'm sorry you missed your bus."
He shrugged. "No drama."
"That teacher inconvenienced you. He should have spoken to you during school hours so you didn't miss your bus."
A snort. "Teachers don't think about stuff like that."
"You're not in trouble with him, are you?"
"Me? Nah. Whaley's cool. He was just giving me some feedback about my latest songwriting attempt."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, with Tyler shooting her surreptitious glances beneath his lashes. "I hear Shawn's still bugging you," he finally said.
Jay didn't have to remind herself that a grimace would be appropriate in this instance. It was her body's automatic response to mention of Shawn. "I asked him very politely to leave me alone, but I suspect he thinks I'm playing hard to get. His lack of intelligence is extremely vexing." Even to her own ears she sounded petulant.
Tyler barked a laugh. "You're something else, you know that?"
She clamped her mouth shut against the immediate agreement that hovered on her lips. She was indeed "something else". But she was training herself to decipher the subtext of what was said before she responded, rather than taking people's comments so literally.
"You really don't like him much, do you?" Tyler seemed to have some difficulty with the idea that any girl could dislike Shawn.
Jay couldn't decipher what it was about Shawn that made him so attractive to the opposite sex. So far as appearances went, he was merely one of a number of physically attractive young males she had encountered. His features were symmetrical enough to be pleasing, but his lack of morals, and his inflated idea of his own importance and desirability, repelled her. She found Tyler's lean physique, shaggy hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and slightly crooked smile, far more aesthetically pleasing. Tyler wasn't perfect, and it was his imperfections that captivated her. In addition, he was far more interesting to talk to than the self-involved Shawn.
"No. I don't like him at all," she said. "Can we please not talk about Shawn?"
"What do you want to talk about, then?"
"I heard you playing your guitar and singing at lunchtime," she said. "You're very talented."
"Thanks." He beamed at her, and something tightened in Jay's chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.
"It wasn't my guitar, though," he said. "That one belongs to the music room. It's a bit of a dog but it does the trick. My own guitar's worth a bit—no way I'd bring it to school and risk it being damaged."
Jay nodded her understanding.
"Hey, do you play an instrument or anything?"
Because she did not wish to appear boastful, she shrugged, and said, "Not really."
Car tires squealed and the acrid odor of burning rubber scented the air. Laughter floated to Jay's ears. She separated out the sounds, identified the vehicle's engine as belonging to a Mazda MX-5 Miata, and ran voice analyses. A simple calculation led her to conclude she would be subjected to an unwelcome encounter in approximately thirty-five seconds.
Just as she and Tyler neared a small group of stores, a red MX-5 rounded the corner and pulled up to the curb ahead of them.
Jay hadn't miscalculated. But then, she seldom did.
"Hey, Jaaay." Shawn called out from the driver's seat, completely ignoring Tyler.
She didn't appreciate the way he drew out the syllables of her name. Her name was Jay. Not Jaaay. If she'd wanted to be called Jaaay, she would have spelled her name with extra As.
"Hello, Shawn." She ignored her programming and did not acknowledge his companion. It was getting easier to be rude and unpleasant if the situation called for it.
"Going somewhere?" Shawn's gaze flicked to his reflection in the rearview mirror. He smoothed his hair.
Jay kept on walking. "I would have thought that was quite obvious, but since you ask, yes."
Tyler emitted a peculiar gurgling sound and cleared his throat.
"Hey, wait up, babe!" Shawn called as they passed his car. He shoved the vehicle in gear and crept along the curb, keeping pace. His smile displayed his artificially whitened capped teeth. "Hop in, I'll give you a lift."
"I don't need a lift. And if I did, there are no spare seats in your car."
The boy sitting up front with Shawn dropped Jay a wink. His lips curved into a sly smile and he patted his lap. "Babe, you can sit right here on this good wood."
"Can it, Matt," Shawn said. "If she's sitting on anyone it'll be me. Capiche?"
Matt smirked. "Whatever, dude."
"Niiice," Tyler said, directing his comment to Shawn. "Caro's gonna be thrilled to hear you're making moves on Jay. Again. I'd watch my back if I were you, Shawn. You know what my sister's like when she gets riled. I can just picture her bitch-slapping you into orbit. Hey, I should sell tickets to the event. I'd make a killing."
Shawn slammed his car into park. He hopped out to confront Tyler, hands fisted at his sides, lower lip outthrust. "What I do when your sister isn't looking over my shoulder is none of your fucking business, freak-boy. So keep your effing mouth shut. Or I'll shut it for you."
Jay clamped her hand on Tyler's arm to prevent him lunging at Shawn. "Let me handle this," she murmured. "Apparently I'm going to have to be extremely unpleasant so he will finally get the message."
Tyler's brow pleated as his gaze raked her face. "You sure?"
"I'm sure." She felt a peculiar warmth curling low in her belly. If she'd been human, that warmth might have indicated she enjoyed his concern for her. She dismissed it as a chemical reaction preparing her body for the coming confrontation with Shawn.
"Okay. But I'm here if you need me," he said.
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
Jay moved toward Shawn, who leaned against his car and crossed his arms over his chest. He smiled lazily at her.
Did this young male truly believe himself so irresistible to females?
Apparently so. He was obviously convinced his physical charms had the power to completely overwhelm her good sense. The boy was an idiot.
"So how 'bout you and me hook up later on?" Shawn said. "Pick you up at nine and—"
"I don't think so."
Shawn blinked at her. "Aw, don't be like that, babe. This playing hard to get thing is getting old."
His tone was light, bantering, but his gaze was challenging. You don't want to mess with me, it seemed to say. Delusional boy. She was going to enjoy thwarting him.
He reached for her.
Ignoring Tyler's shout of protest, Jay let Shawn grab her wrist and tug her toward him. As Shawn bent his head, she realized he was about to kiss her—force her to comply with his wishes. She grasped his chin in her hand and dulled her eyes so her gaze was flat and cold and menacing. "Are you trying to shut my effing mouth now, Shawn?"
He froze. The cocky grin slid from his face.
She thrust him away and stared him down. "I would rather not be bothered by two-timing sleaze-bags, Shawn. For some reason they nauseate me."
Behind her, Tyler snorted with laughter.
"Bitch." Shawn's expression darkened. He raised his hand as if to hit her, but seemed to think better of it and dropped his arm.
He was on edge, his heart rate elevated, a pulse throbbing at his temple. It would not take much to provoke him.
Jay reviewed what she knew about Shawn and his family, and debated her options. If he did lose his temper and hit her, there was a high probability it would work in her favor. When it got around that he had hit a girl, Shawn's godlike reputation amongst the students—both male and female—would take a severe hit.
She released the merest whiff of a very specific pheromone into the air and watched Shawn inhale. A fine sweat broke out on his forehead. His fists clenched and unclenched, clenched again.
"You're such a daddy's boy," she said, curling her lip into a sneer. "Without his money to throw around, you're nothing special, Shawn. You should hear what your team says about you behind your back."
His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What do they say?"
Yes. She'd been correct to base her verbal attack on his male pride. This was going to be ludicrously easy. "Only that your daddy bought your place on the team with a hefty donation. It must be a real blow to your pride to know you wouldn't have been good enough otherwise."
"Jay." Tyler's voice throbbed with anxiety. "I don't think—"
"I'm fine, Tyler." She swept her glance over Shawn. "He's nothing I can't handle."
Shawn's tanned complexion turned a mottled red.
Jay laughed, and made certain it was a derisive, mocking sound. "Poor Shawn. Did I hurt your feelings? Never mind. I'm sure you'll get over it. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that Caro and I had an enlightening little chat this afternoon. I'm sure it won't take much more effort on my part to convince her to dump your less-than-toned glutes."
Shawn frowned as he processed that last part.
"Are you saying—?"
"Yes, Shawn. You have a—" she sought the most suitable slang phrase "—flabby ass."
He lost it.
Of course Jay saw the blow coming, but she chose not to exert herself by blocking it. Whatever Shawn did to her, it was highly unlikely to cause permanent damage. The logic that had led to this moment was perfectly sound, so she stood perfectly still, relaxed her facial muscles, and allowed his hand to connect with her cheek.
"Jesus!" Matt's shocked voice shattered the silence.
Excellent. Her decision was already having the desired effect.
Unfortunately, Tyler wasn't aware that Jay didn't feel pain as humans did. Or that she had weighed her options and concluded it was in her best interests to let Shawn assault her. Before she could caution him to stay out of it, Tyler grabbed her arm and yanked her from further harm. Then he charged Shawn, smacking him against the side of the car.
Shawn bellowed and retaliated by first shoving Tyler away, then lunging for him, grabbing him around the waist and steamrolling him backward.
Jay was still considering whether or not Tyler would be irritated if she intervened, when she caught a metallic flash at the edge of her vision. She glanced at Matt and found him recording the incident on a sleek black mobile phone.
"Please put the phone away. Now." She refocused her attention on the two combatants.
"You okay?" Matt asked. "There's a spare seat here if you need to sit down. Do you want me to call someone to come get you?"
She kept her gaze on Tyler and Shawn as she answered. "Yes, I'm okay. No, I don't need to sit down. No, I don't want you to call anyone. Thank you for asking, though. The phone, Matt."
He was silent. When she glanced again at him to confirm he'd stopped videoing the fight, Matt had lowered the phone, and was staring at her like he expected her to be doing something other than what she was currently doing. The trouble was, Jay had no idea what that something might be.
"Sure you're okay?" he finally asked. "You're not gonna faint or anything, are you?"
"Yes, I'm sure. No, I'm not going to faint. Or anything."
His frown smacked of disbelief. "Shit. I can actually see a handprint on your cheek. I'm guessing he didn't hold back, huh?"
"He could have punched me, so I believe he did hold back to some degree. And the mark will fade soon."
"You're one tough chick."
"Yes."
"Better ice it when you get a chance," he told her. "It'll help with the bruising."
"Thank you for the advice. Aren't you going to Shawn's aid?" If Matt chose that course of action, Jay would take steps to stop him. Two against one was patently unfair.
He shrugged and stuck his feet up on the dash. "Nah. Shawn and Tyler have some major history, so this was always gonna happen. And between you and me, I hope Tyler manages a few good punches before he gets creamed. Shawn deserves to get the hurt put on him."
"Why does Shawn deserve it?" she asked. "Isn't he your friend?"
Matt's lips compressed and the residual humor faded from his eyes. "Lately, that's up for debate. And guys just don't hit girls, okay?"
"Is it okay for girls to hit guys?"
He eyed her, his gaze speculative, gauging the seriousness of her question. "After what that asshole did to you? Duh. Abso-fricking-lutely."
"Thank you. I wasn't sure of the protocol in a situation like this."
She heard Matt mutter, "This I gotta see," as she turned her gaze back to Tyler and Shawn.
She observed the fight for a moment. Shawn's heavier body mass was proving problematic for Tyler. He did manage to hook one of Shawn's ankles with a sweep of his foot and topple him to the ground, but when he pounced on him, Shawn bucked him off and rolled, switching their positions.
Shawn's triumphant expression morphed into something dark and ugly. He drew back his elbow, fist clenched.
This would be a prudent time to intervene. Jay liked Tyler's face the way it was, and she would not appreciate Shawn rearranging it. She didn't bother to check her speed. She leaped toward Shawn and grabbed his wrist. In one smooth, rapid movement, she rotated his arm to twist it up behind his back.
"Bitch," he said, struggling ineffectually and hissing when she increased the pressure on his shoulder joint. "Get off me. You want another smack or something?"
"Please," she said. "Do try."
"Fine. I'll get to you when I've finished with the freak."
"In your dreams!" Tyler said, his face tight with determination as he bucked his hips, trying to dislodge Shawn. "You lay a hand on her again and I'm gonna—"
"You're gonna what?" Shawn said. "Sing me a song?"
Jay's vision washed with a bloody red haze that she identified as adrenaline-fueled fury. Humans called this phenomenon bloodlust, or "seeing red". And it was oh-so-very tempting to give in to it.
But at some level, she understood she was defective. There was something profoundly wrong with her. She'd been programmed to defend herself if threatened, but she was not in any danger whatsoever. As much as she might wish it otherwise at this particular instant, her programming did not extend to tearing Shawn limb from limb, or even smashing his face with a clenched fist and ruining the good looks of which he was so very proud. This encounter should not be affecting her in such a way. This annoying, foul-mouthed, boy should not have the power to influence her actions. This desire she had to punish him, to exact revenge for his treatment of Tyler, was wrong.
She was malfunctioning, and the consequences of giving in to her rage could be dire.
Jay caged her fury and smothered it with logic. And logic told her the most efficient way to be rid of Shawn's attentions, was to humiliate him enough that he avoided her in future.
She increased the upward pressure on his wrist and shoulder joint, ignoring his vile curses as the pain and the threatened dislocation of his shoulder forced him to abandon Tyler and rise to his feet.
After a brief scan of her surroundings, Jay discounted the trashcans placed beside the bus stop. There was no reason to damage public property.
The dumpster out back of the Chinese takeout? Perfect. She marched Shawn toward it on his tiptoes.
"Hey, Matt!" Shawn yelled, his voice squeaky with growing panic. "Dude, some help, here?"
"She's only a girl," Matt called back. "I'm sure she won't hurt you too bad."
Jay gripped Shawn by scruff of his neck and the waistband of his designer jeans, and tossed him into the dumpster. He landed with a muffled squawk of disbelief and an immensely satisfying squelch, signaling that his landing had been cushioned by rubbish sacks full of discarded food scraps.
She sniffed the air. Plastic rubbish sacks by the smell of them. Along with the garbage, they would have contained a higher than normal percentage of air, meaning Shawn would have enjoyed a far more comfortable landing than he deserved.
When she turned back to see how Tyler was faring, she found him staring at her, open-mouthed.
She cut her gaze to Matt.
He, too, gave her stunned eyes. "Uh, nice trick," he said.
Oh. Apparently girls weren't supposed to be able to toss boys into dumpsters. "It's all in the thighs," she said. "Taking out the trash has always been one of my chores."
Tyler's lips twitched upward.
"Did Shawn hurt you?" Jay asked, noting his scraped skin and the bruises that were beginning to form.
"Nah. It's nothing. What about you?"
"I'm fine."
He shook off his shock and dusted down his clothes. "Then let's go, before the trash gets its shit together and crawls out of that dumpster."
~*~
Copyright 2011 Maree Anderson
www.mareeanderson.com