I came to school pretty strung out. Last post, I made a deal with a monster from the ocean floor that I would fight her every week. That was a week ago. I’ve fought her three times and she’s getting better.
I talked a lot of crap in our first fight, but I’m only barely winning each time. I can make up a few plans, but as she gets more used to my tactics and raw strength, it becomes easier for her to counter. Although, I haven’t had to use my SP2 (Super Power 2).
I don’t know what it is that tires me out after a fight or patrol, I shouldn’t get tired from running, jumping or kicking, but I’m always pooped afterwards. No muscle soreness, just exhaustion. Maybe I should look into stamina training. Until I work something out on that front, I’ll just keep to sleeping through half of school.
Once again, I was sat at my desk in front of Mullet, a little earlier before the class started, but I had nothing better to do. Mullet was there to compare his homework with mine. I may not have a good record in tests, but like anyone else, I can solve a problem when I have the text book in front of me. Mullet had done the same, but was less confident in his answers.
“What’s this bit supposed to mean?” I ignored the question aimed at the back of my head. At least until I felt a kick to my chair’s leg. “Whuh?” I half turned to him. He lifted the file page to my face, “‘When the cell has run out of oxygen, ATP production is done by the glucose.’ That’s what you wrote word for word. But the question was ‘How much ATP is produced in anaerobic respiration.'” I turned my head back and forth a little trying to think about what he said. “Uh, well, in aerobic respiration, the body produces energy from the crab’s cycle, and the… something-chain. So, without oxygen, its anaerobic respiration, so it’s just from the glucose.”
There was a little silence before I yawned and he replied, “That doesn’t answer the question?” Still yawning I lazily said, “How much ATP is made by glucose?”
“2.”
I stretched my face in another yawn before putting my head down and saying, “Whutheryu’o.” He leaned in, “You realise you didn’t write that. You’re not getting any marks from that.” I was out another 5 minutes, waking up a little more by then. I lifted my head. Mr Bio wasn’t in yet, a little out of place, he usually gets in before most students. I looked over my right shoulder to find everyone else in, either talking or on their phone. Mullet was talking- to me? No, he was smiling.
He wasn’t facing me either, he was talking to the seat on my left. This was weird because nobody sat on my row. Not realising that I could turn left to see who he was talking to, I tried turning further to the right, I probably looked like a piece of rotini pasta.
It was a girl. Dyed blonde, but everyone else in my class was, so that didn’t give me any clues. Mullet seemed happy about it so I guessed it was his girlfriend, we’ll call her, Izzy. Sitting in front of Mullet for a few months, I heard about his exploits with tons of women, so I imagined this was maybe her acting on it? Some sort of soap opera karma for making an ass of her. Looking back, that was just my tired mind taking a blind shot.
I uncoiled myself, hunched forward into my seat, and waited for a member of staff to cover us, or the big man himself, Mr Bio. Seven minutes passed before he came in. His round body nearly touching both sides of the door frame. He looked a little sweaty today, weird seeing as it’s winter.
“There you are!” He shouted in my direction, and I thought to myself, ‘he knows I’m failing this class I’m sorry crap I tried I really tried, crapcrapcrap’ I was reassured by his follow up statement, made while he briskly walked to his desk, squeezing by mine to get at it.
“The vice-principle was looking for you Saoirse, I’ll send them an email now, to say you made it here alright. We sent a message home last night to tell you to go to her office, but it mustn’t have come through. I’m sure the other boys and girls have already gotten to know you a little, but, for those who haven’t, this is Saoirse Rowan. She moved all the way from up north just to attend my class, Haha.”
It was already weird that he still referred to us as ‘boys and girls’ despite the fact that most of us were legally adults, but now he was forcing us to laugh at his lame joke. I can’t say much. I’ve made tons of lame lines, still cringing at the ‘tall, dark, and tattooed’ line from post 2.
“Haha, why don’t you tell the class a little about yourself Saoirse, where you’re from, what sports you play, any pets?” Mr Bio might be the most heinous villain I’ve met. God, was he trying to humiliate this girl? After she’s had to leave her friends, home, and country behind?
“Uhm, well…” You could feel how awkward this was for Saoirse. “I’m from Londonderry,” Off to a bad start. Off to a very bad start.
Irish lore lesson 2: Derry/Londonderry is a town on the western border of Northern Ireland and the republic of Ireland. During the period of time called ‘the troubles’, Ireland was trying to become independent of Britain and were met by military resistance, leading to further and further escalations in the conflict for independence, till America swooped in with the good Friday agreement, forming the Republic of Ireland.
Derry/Londonderry was one of the most divided places in the north, rivalling Belfast in terms of guerrilla warfare on the streets. The ‘native’ Irish population there were snubbed of being a part of the republic, or the town was split over the border, I don’t know enough about the situation up there to teach you about it.
The take away from this is, Irish republicans, who want to join the south, and are of the catholic denomination call the town Derry. The UK unionists in the north, who are from the protestant denomination, call the town Londonderry.
Probably a bad explanation as usual, but down here we only get a vague understanding of the situation up north. But the people in my class know enough to tell that when you say Londonderry, you’re a british bastard.
You don’t have to know much about someone to hate them based on the religious denomination of their family.
“-I don’t play sports, well, I did a little gymnastics, but not much anymore,” Good luck making friends without a common sport, Saoirse. Down here it’s nearly an essential pastime to bond with someone.
“-and I don’t have any pets.”
70% of all conversations I have at school are about my dog.
At this point I’m really hoping that she can somehow manage to make some good friends, somehow. But in the mean time I have some sleep to catch up on.
…
“psst.” Saoirse. I can’t help you with whatever problem you have, school or social.
“Yeah? What do you need.” I sat up a little, though I kept my gaze and my elbows on the table. “Sorry, it’s just, that- well, the teacher said to get into pairs for a practical, and I’d rather be with a guy who doesn’t care then… A guy who’s a little too eager to pair up with me, you know??” God dammit Mullet. I know what kind of rumours that’s going to start about the new girl. Here’s a hint, they make a guy look cool, but a woman look like a tramp.
“Sure. One of my talents is leaving people alone.” Well, that was a lie. I’ve stuck my nose into all sorts of problems.
“Hey, at least help me set up. I’ll do the rest and you can get back to sleep when we put the hydrochloric acid away.” I got out of my seat, clumsily, I didn’t even look at her as I went to the back of the room where we keep the equipment. She spoke to the side of my head, “What’s your name anyway??” I heard her, but I didn’t answer. Mean on my part, but getting to know me won’t do her any favours. What, she’s going to be friends with some guy who sleeps all day and has no social life?
Not a good look for her.
I heard her stool scoot along the floor as she made her way after me, I passed Mullet and he gave me a weird look like he had a few weeks back. He looked astonished by my dumbassery. Don’t know why, but it was probably the fact that a good-looking lady was talking to me and I completely blew her off. A foreign concept to him.
I picked up a few beakers and a jar of acid to bring back to the table, Saoirse could probably carry the rest. I passed Clover on my way back- Wait. No, that wasn’t Clover, it couldn’t be. Back the hell up, what the fuck is Clover doing here?
Well, which is it Shamrock, is it Clover or isn’t it? When I stopped to look at her, she made the same face I was probably making. Did she know? I’m not an idiot, I know someone who saw me in costume and saw me out of it could pretty easily make a connection between the two personas.
All I could do was wait for her to get back to the table. She brought with her burners, scalpels, what I didn’t. We got to work on the practical, I don’t even remember what it was, I was focused on whether or not I would have to leave school after today or not. Her hair was more unkempt than usual, she looked out of place in the dark school uniform. I was so used to thinking of her as someone who stood out, a boss enemy, when in actuality she was just like anyone else. Just a normal teenage girl.
“So,” Here it comes. “-can we… talk about it??” This is it.
“Sure. Go ahead.” I kept my eyes down, sort of hunched over the table, and slowly mimicked what she did with the materials. “Uhh… Okay, well how did you get it??” I looked up confused, “Get what?” She jerkily raised her hand and waved it around half of her face. “That bruise. God, sorry, are we not on the same page here?? Look I just- we can drop it if it’s something you can’t talk about-”
Did she know? I was starting to think she didn’t. Maybe that bull about superman’s real disguise being subtle changes in posture and behaviour is true? Or maybe she was just messing with me. The Clover I knew would pull that.
But would Saoirse?
“I got hit. Someone was… saying bad stuff about- about foreigners, and I didn’t think it was right. So, I tried to convince them otherwise.” She looked a little relieved for a second. “That’s good. I mean- You got hit, that’s bad, but for a second, I thought you were getting beat by your dad or something.”
I wondered to myself, why does it matter who’s hitting you? No matter what, if someone is attacking you, they’re an asshole, and that’s horrible. For you, whoever you are.
She seemed to calm down a little now, less jittery, “So, why did you look at me like that. I thought you were different from that guy.” She thumbed back at Mullet; from my perspective I could tell he noticed she was talking about him, and he smiled, nodded and gave me a thumbs up. I believe he thought I was putting in a good word for him.
“No, I’m not much different from anyone else really. But, unlike him, I’m not too interested in girls. No, I didn’t look at you because of that.” She smiled a little and guessed, “Was it the tattoo?? I thought my hair would cover that up a little, guess I should cover it with make up or something.” I interrupted her near the end. “Nah, it wasn’t that either, you just-”
I wanted to tell at least half of the truth. “-You looked like you were about to cry.”
That made her smile fade. We didn’t talk for the rest of the practical. I felt sorry, just a little.
Eventually the class was done and I could leave. I’m usually the last to leave and I was this time. No acrobatics to cheer myself up this time, didn’t want to risk getting found out, if I hadn’t already been. I passed Izzy and her friends on my way out. They had half circled around Saoirse, that was good, she was making some friends.
“So, what’s it like. Must be pretty tough for a little lesbo like you to move to this shit hole from your comfy plantation up north, Brit bitch.”
Shit.
She didn’t know what to do. They had her stuck. Another joined in, “What’s with your eyes, prod slut. You smoke a bowl of weed, or did you just find out you can’t do any flag burnings down here?”
I don’t really know what getting bullied is like, honestly. Closest I’ve experienced is getting my shit kicked in or being ignored, but I knew that this wasn’t good.
I’m ashamed to admit it but I almost considered walking past them.
“Izzy, guys, lay off her. It’s probably hard enough for her to leave her home and friends. Boyfriend... And you guys should be ashamed of your behaviour.”
They just sort of starred at me like they usually do. Like I was a weirdo.
Clover, or Saoirse as she was calling herself, finally spoke up, “Why is your first thought 'boyfriend'?? Did you just make a move on me?? Jesus Christ it’s called ‘banter’ you pasty creep.”
That’s what I was going for.
The thing people never think about when they’re writing movies or books, is that nobody in their right mind would be friends with a loser. You see plots all the time about good-natured guys who are down on their luck who impress girls with their spirit and plucky attitude. But in the real world-
“Do you know why my eyes are so watery? Cause I had to sit beside this unshowered, greasy, skunk-ass loser.” -the only thing a real loser is good for is helping people in poor positions out of them. Not as a hero, but as a stepping stone, by making them look way better in comparison.
There were a few giggles in the crowd. Good. They thought she was funny. I didn’t stick around to see if things turned out alright for her or not, I had an art class to get to. And it made it look like I was hurt by her words, which would have been funny for them.
.
.
.
Right, it’s winter. And that whale monster had teeth sharp enough to easily cut through steel, let alone fabric. But I didn’t care if my costume wasn’t ready, I finally was. I was going back to the Quarter.
Maybe I wanted some answers, answers to whether or not she had usurped my life. Maybe I wanted to finally clean out her stock of illegal substances. There was one thing I needed to know. She has been in town for two weeks, so why now in all that time, did she decide to go to school?
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Seriously, on a Thursday?
I can say rather confidently, that I’ve gotten pretty good at parkour. Pretty good for a guy who doesn’t have to try and break their fall or worry about missing a jump. Yeah, I’m really good. I’m flying low tonight, to try and stay a little warm, don’t think the two layers of clothes beneath my costume will really help me if I try to go into the clouds again.
I’d been caught up in my own head for too long that day, I needed to feel something, get a kick.
At least, that’s how I used to feel doing this, jumping.
I don’t think of Clover as a friend, I can’t. She might be a murderer, no different from Feoli.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that she made me feel like I wasn’t alone here, in the ‘third world’. And frankly, I need someone to tell me what the hell is going on, not that she’s very forthcoming with info.
But because it was there, because she laughed at me in my world… this feeling is brought back, even when I'm wearing this crappy costume I made. She's brings it back with her from school, from school, from everyday life.
This cold in my blood.
It’s childish, naïve, to say that I’m the one whose hurting when she’s ruining the lives of innocent people, people that I'm supposed to be sav-
A scream.
My ‘problems' can wait, a woman is probably being assaulted right now, and I can stop it. I’m strong. It wasn’t that far away. I overlooked the area I thought it was coming from, then it came again. Close. Told me I wasn’t too late. It was maybe a street away from me, a distance I could leap in a single bound.
On the street a few people were gathered around someone lying prone on the floor, as I approached, the thick shawl she wore made her seem like an elderly woman. If she was old it might be worse for me to carry her to a hospital, had she been attacked, or fallen. I shouted for the crowd to part and they listened.
The people in the crowd were well dressed for the winter weather. Large coats and scarfs, hid them from the elements. The lady on the ground was panting heavily, “Old lady, can you hear me? Are you hurt? What happened?” I spoke calmly, slowly, I didn’t want her shook anymore then she already was.
She stretched a gloved hand out to me and I took it. She said something under her breath, I didn’t hear it. “Has anyone phoned an ambulance?”
I turned to the silent crowd. “No… But we should have-” I told them sternly, “Do it!”
The prone woman began to speak clearly, “-should have called an ambulance for you, Shorty.”
I felt a tug on my arm, pulling herself to me, she thrust a large metal barrel into my side.
“Wha-” the blast hit me harder than Feoli’s fists could, that’s for sure. It blasted through my clothes, not that they weren’t in tatters already. My side went numb, a very bad sign.
With my free hand I swatted at the shotgun in my side, bending it out of shape. I had let go of her hand in the shock, allowing her to grab a pistol from God knows where, and she started blasting the damaged area. Now I could feel it, like putting salt in a wound.
Then the crowd started blasting.
I think I heard something about a guy who used real cannons in a symphony, and I imagine it sounded quite like the centre of that crowd. Through all the confusion and the noise, I tried the quickest and easiest action.
Jumping wouldn’t work, I was down on my knees. I couldn’t punch my way out of this one, they’d just keep unloading into me while I was disarming their buddies.
I needed an area of effect attack. I didn’t even think about breaking my arms on the brick pavement, it was a split-second reaction. The woman was miraculously back on her feet, as I slammed the ground with all my might.
Don’t know what I expected, a crater? Nothing really impressive, the bricks broke but there wasn’t a shock wave or whatever I thought would happen. What I didn’t have time to think of was what this was like from their perspective.
There’s a guy who runs across the roof tops at night looking for crack. No matter how hard you hit him, or how many of you there are, you can’t even slow him down. If they know about the worlds, then they know I have 2 powers, both of which they are unsure of the limits to. They were cautious enough, smart enough, to back the fuck up.
After my man-baby moment, I rolled onto my hands to do a cart-wheel-back-flip sort of thing over the shot gun gal.
Okay, I can do some weird flips and shit, but I don’t know what any of that crap is called.
I put a lot of force into it, so I got some distance from them. Before I landed, I heard them start blasting again. I think some hit, but I can’t be sure, I was distracted by the very large wound in my side. After later appraisal I’d describe it as being similar to when you fall off your bike and skin your knee, except it’s a quarter of my torso, and bleeding like a radiator.
I couldn’t run in that condition, so after a pretty floppy landing I leaned on my good side and started to hop down the street. They were definitely still gunning for me, but at this point it was getting hard to hear much of anything. Then it clicked why they were in such heavy winter gear. Ear muffs were actually noise cancelling, their coats were to conceal weapons, and that was definitely a trap.
Who the hell were these guys, the Internationals? From what little I know, they sound like the types to shoot first then ask later. It didn’t seem likely though, not in comparison to another idea I had.
This was why Clover was going to school.
She got some reliable grunts from up north, it gave her some time off. Worst case, this was her finally seeing that I’m more trouble than I’m worth, so she’s taking off the gloves.
Best case, she’s playing with me, showing off her toys, the power of her operation. Like most things it was probably a blend of both. She was playing with the idea of folding me up, nice and neat.
I leaned down a street on my right, blocking their line of sight.
Who would have guessed that super endurance/strength makes you great at hopping on one foot? People were frightened as I hobbled past them, but I was just as scared seeing the crowd.
These lunatics were trigger happy. One stray bullet into someone who isn’t made of magic, and they wouldn’t be going home tonight. And that would be completely on me.
As I was resolving to fight back against these bastards, I’m hit in the front by a line of lead. I nearly got a heart attack when that guy jumped out. I fully expected them to be up my ass, but not in my face. I nearly leaped over him, but remembered my surroundings, who surrounded me. I pogoed at him; one arm outstretched for his rifle to crush it to scrap, followed by a soft punch to disorientate him, then I leaped to the sky.
Ok, time to analyse. That guy just so happened to be on the same street as me? There’s a real chance that it was just his good luck, but I can’t believe everything involving Clover is up to luck. There is a real chance that they have either planned my response to their attacks in advanced somehow or have men stationed on all streets near the Quarter. They could also be communicating over comms to leak my position, and if that’s the case than it’s a bad idea to stay in the same place long.
I kept my head low and crawled to a slanted crevasse between two roofs so that there was little chance of them seeing me. I took off the tattered top of my costume and the shirts beneath it, tying them around my wound, before suiting back up. I stretched a little, got used to the pain of standing up on two feet.
Time for some dark defender shit.
I headed back to the original street to see if anyone was still there. Found what I expected, two remainders, just there to defend the street. I did a good job of staying out of sight, found a spot above a street light, figured they wouldn’t be looking up into the light any time soon. It also made it easy for me to see them under it.
I got into a cat like arch before dropping off the roof behind one of the stealth game enemies and tossed him by the scruff of his coat. His buddy saw me before he did and quickly got a pistol out and took aim.
My fist might have been a little too tough for the guy, but he was trying to kill a teenager for drug money, so…
I crumpled his pistol and whipped back to his compatriot. Maybe I’ve been fighting Feoli to much, I really overestimated how quickly he would be up. I ripped open his coat and underneath was a tactical vest, guns and ammo, and lots of stuff I didn’t understand. I took the boom-stick and twisted it.
I think I’ll run out of ways to say I broke these guys guns, so I’ll skip the parts where I repeat basically the same takedowns over the course of a few hours.
Eventually I stumbled on a group of three that just so happened to include the little lady responsible for putting this little hole in my side. Except now I recognized this woman, and no I didn’t have a repeat of earlier. That is to say, it wasn’t Clover. I’ll save you the trouble of wondering which of the seven ladies I’ve mentioned so far it was and just tell you what went down.
I shouted down to them from the sky, “Before you start shooting, I’d just like to ask you to forget that line I said when we first met. It’s just, it was my first time in a place like that, and I didn’t really know how to ac-” A blizzard of bullets burst out, I reacted by bounding above them, “RUDE! TRYING TO SAY SORRY HERE, TATS!” I tried to shout over the clamour.
I was starting to get tired at this point, so I rebound over the road at one of her goons, clapping the barrel of his rifle once I got close, before swinging for the ex-barmaids. I must have been going slow, as she was able to dodge my grasp by leaning back, doubling to put herself into a position where her fellow henchmen wouldn’t be in the line of fire.
She opened up on me with her automatic rifle, but I stood firm, shielding my eyes and wound. She has to reload that thing sometime soon, right? I see her other groupie try to circle to a better position, so I did a backflip in front of him and hit him square in the jaw. He crumpled pretty quickly for someone who’s supposed to be a soldier.
I turn back to Tat. Actually, “Not trying to make a crappy pick up line here, just thought I’d ask what the name of my head-hunter is.” I kept my arms up, she wasn’t shooting, one of her men was in the way.
“It’s Tayanita.” Dammit, never thought I’d miss Clover’s crazed rambling during a fight, or on the phone for that matter. Feoli and now this girl. How many more people am I gonna encounter who are only in this to kick my fat ass.
I tried to get something out of her, “Well, Tayanita, pay must be pretty good if you’ve been promoted from barmaid to actress. Really had me in awe with that performance.” She was pretty pissed, as she stepped in, “I was never a barmaid. Clover’s in town so I had to change jobs for a little while. Maybe your 100-pound ass doesn’t get it, but me and the boys are good at what we do.”
I answered coldly, a little sick of the reply from fishy, “Killing people.”
She took aim. “This is just support. Right now, my job is to support the business. Most obvious way to do that is to finally get rid of you. Even if I have to-” A burst riddled my costume, though I think she was aiming for my bad side. I decided this would be my last one for tonight. I threw myself at her and wrestled the fire arm from her, making sure the stray bullets didn’t hit her boys. It was actually at this point that I realised the shear difference between getting shot with a normal gun and a gun blessed by lady lucks trampy sister.
“Wow, if I’d known you were this hung up about that shitty line I’d have apologised sooner.” I smiled at her, almost expecting a similar expression from her. She looked like she had been bottling a lot of anger, like she was about to burst. After I trashed her toy, she resulted to hitting, she didn’t seem as well trained in that. She was definitely taller than me, but she felt tiny.
“You ruined everything! Years of work, ruined, because of you! Fucker!” As she kept punching me, it soon devolved into thrashing. It didn’t hurt, but I was really concerned I did something to this girl.
“Listen Tayanita, if I’ve done something too piss you off, you’ve gotta explain this to me!” I backed away from her, her arms were probably starting to hurt. “You don’t fucking get it do you. One way or another, you’re being used to meet her ends. I realised. It’s your fault she’s here! Even if she doesn’t realise it! Anywhere on this contenient, and she chooses here?”
I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I just kept saying I was sorry, as I gathered any illegal substances from her goons. As I was getting ready to leave, she eventually calmed down, or repressed her anger enough that she didn’t feel the need to keep hitting me.
I felt the need to ask her. “Why did your boss set this up? I’m sure she’ll get more guns in, but you can tell her that it’ll end just the same.” Finally, she cracked a smile and scoffed, “I know. I guess I knew this would happen when I got the squad together. You people are fucking monsters. But you’re not gods. You can die. You can bleed. I can’t kill you, but it’s only a matter of time until you butt heads with someone who can, and when that happens… just hope those wounds don’t open up.” She trailed off but I got the picture.
I smiled back at her. “You did this? That’s great! If it’s just this I can manage, but I guess sooner or later I really will face a big fish. I probably will die in a fight with some psycho in an alley somewhere, and this’ll probably help weaken me before then.” I pointed to the shot gun wound, “I wonder which will run out first, my stamina, or your spending budget.”
I was just about ready to collapse at this point. “I think it would be a good idea to give up now, get yourself an honest job. You can try out for a job at a pub somewhere else, you’ve got the experience for it, which is great!”
She shouted at me as she got a second wind, “Fuck you!”
I should really be used to that by now, but I thought she might have a different sort of response. I leapt to the roof tops before she could start again.
She quieted to a hiss, but I could hear her even over the ringing in my ears. “It’s a gamble then. Let’s just hope luck is actually on your side, dumbass.”
That got me thinking as I jumped away.
How does Clover’s Primary work? Is it constant? Can she choose what decisions to use it on? Is she conscious of the result? If she puts her hand in a bag and uses her ability, would she get the red ball she was trying to get, or would she get a golden ball she didn’t even know was in there.
Why come to Tralee, when bigger cities like Cork or Limerick are an option. Why go to my school, when there were private schools, that she could have easily attended by paying?
What if when making those choices she picked the locations that would do her the best, that would help her gather resources, territory, power.
If that’s the case, then either I’m going to help her make the right life choices, or she’s being pushed to act pre-emptively, before I can get a good grasp on my powers.
I’d be lying if I said I was cracked at using my Primary, my moment of dumbassery at the start of this fight showed that pretty clearly. And seeing as I’ve only used my SP2 once in combat, (although I am trying to use it sparingly), I need to get a better understanding of it.
Taking risks is probably a bad idea, seeing as my opponent manipulates causality, but I don’t think I have much of a choice.
…
Mr. Biology was once again late for class, except this time it made sense. The second years were playing gaelic, so it would take him awhile to walk up from the pitch. I wonder if he envies those kids, with their high stamina and ability to run without throwing up. That’s a little mean, but it’s true, I saw him running for a few minutes once and he nearly threw up.
I’d give a third Irish lore lesson, but I don’t understand gaelic, so we’ll move back to the scene.
Mullet was off, I overheard the reason why from a group talking in the back. Apparently, he was on one of the streets while I was doing some Arkham takedowns, police came by a little later, and took him in for questioning. One thing led to another, and they found a big ‘ol bag of weed. He’s currently suspended from school, to say the least. Hope that works out ok for him, don’t think they’ll care too much about a kid smoking weed when there was a shootout in town.
I didn’t hear anything about the hit squad getting arrested yesterday, which would make sense, seeing as I didn’t incapacitate any off them. I should probably try and get them off the streets. If I can get some rope I will, but I’m not gonna beat normal people into submission.
Saoirse was talking to the guy behind her, but it was a pretty sparse conversation. Basic stuff like what subjects she’s doing, where abouts she’s living, her family, that kind of thing, but there’s no way for me to know if any of this stuff is true. I wait till their conversation dies off.
I spoke in a hushed voice, “Good job playing along yesterday, thought you’d be able to react like that.” She sort of glared at me, before I elaborated, “I thought you might need a little help getting a leg up the social ladder, so I gave you an opportunity to seem normal to them. An equal, instead of an orange and black bastard.”
She turned her gaze from me and squinted her eyes, “Whatever you say, hairball. If that was the case, then I didn’t need your ‘help’. I had them wrapped around my finger as soon as they found out how many digits are in my bank account.”
I was happy, though I didn’t smile. Not while I knew that those digits represented grams of coke sold. “Good. I- understand what it’s like to be in that position. I’m not telling you this because I want to get on your good side, I just want to set it straight.”
She looked back at me and said quietly, “You’ve been a dick since I got here, you know that? I ask you your name, you ignore me. I show some empathy for your fucked up face, your all, ‘gonna cry’?. I’m getting surrounded by those bitches, and you decide to finally ‘help me out’ by getting me to be just like them? You didn’t even try to be my ‘friend’ so don’t go acting like- this when you find out what I’m worth.” She was done talking to me.
But I wasn’t. “If I was your friend, it would only put you in a worse position. I won’t associate with you. Not because I’m trying to be a dick, even if that is the end result, but because it’s all I can do to help a crying girl.”
There was silence for a while and I thought she was done talking to me. “I was not crying.”
I replied, “And I hope you never do. But for that to happen you gotta get yourself friends here. Even if they are ‘bitches’.”
She faced me, “Sam.”
It gave me goosebumps. The fact that she knew my name. This criminal has infiltrated my life, by sheer luck and I’m letting her get away with it.
“Izzy told me that was your name, took her a while to remember it. If you don’t want to be friends that’s fine, I’m happy with that even. But I’ll be fucked if I have to talk to the horse haired ass behind you for the next year and a half. So, the official title of our relationship will be… associates, ‘kay??”
She put her hand out and I shook it weakly, “Fine.” I replied just as weakly, “But I should warn you, just because I’m quiet does not mean that I am good at school work, so don’t think I can help you much with any of the work.” She gave an exaggerated shrug, and replied, “That’s fine I won’t need help, I’m pretty good.” I was pretty content with this conclusion, not that I was happy to have her, just that it seemed like everything was cooling down. Everything except the burning in my side.
“Alright Sam, what’s your snapchat?? Just in case one of us misses a homework or something.”
Shit.
“I- uh… Don’t have a phone.” I was worried that this would give me away pretty easily, who doesn’t have a phone?
But she just rolled her eyes, and said, “Kerry bumpkins, I guess. Rocky and now you?? No wonder we gave up on this island. Oh, and by we, I mean Britain.”
Yep, everything was cool. At least till the weekend. Or until she finds out I’m Shamrock. Or when Belfast comes for her. Or when her boss comes for me. Or when I figure out why she’s so afraid of those International guys.
Cool!