Bite 3.6
My ceiling was not particularly interesting, and so eventually I had to get up. It was far later than it should be. I needed to get to Rachel. I didn't know why it felt so vital, but I just wanted to get to her.
Then it all came rushing back, like the tide that had briefly retreated for a moment. She was hurt. She needed help.
But why did it feel like what I really wanted to do was hold her tight and go to sleep. As if I were the one that needed comfort and help, and she were the one that could protect me. When I closed my eyes, I could see the blood.
I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, but it was amazing, how much Lung bled. I didn't know the human body had that much blood, and of course it didn't. It wasn't a human body he had. The arm lay there, claws stretched out accusingly, blood soaked all around, no doubt staining into the ground.
When that's what you saw with closed eyes, it was no wonder I hadn't fallen asleep. But I knew I needed to. Instead of forcing myself to sleep, I rolled out of bed and looked in the mirror. I had probably looked worse, but only in those days right after I'd been taken to the mental ward of the hospital for observation. My hair had been covered in gunk, and parts of it had had to be cut off.
Emma loved the little touches, she always had and she always would. So of course she had also filled the locker with gum and other stick things. I hadn't lost a lot of my hair, but she'd known where to hit me.
My hair was intact now, at least, but it was a mess. I'd been shifting around in bed the whole time, and I'd sweated so much I was surprised I was able to roll off the bed, rather than being glued to it.
My head ached, my back and shoulder were hurting, and I realized that I'd somehow lost my glasses somewhere.
I'd taken them off in an exhausted hurry, sure that I'd fall asleep, and now they were lost.
I had to spend a minute hunting for them, and then I had to strip off all of my sweat-soaked, dumb clothes off. I stared at myself for a moment more, and then gathered up some clothes and a bath-robe.
By the time I finally stumbled out of my room, which was a mess I'd have to clean some other time, I could smell pancakes cooking.
I went to the railing and yelled down, "A few minutes, Dad!"
"What?"
"I have to get a shower."
Dad smiled, a little playfully, as he peeked his head out at me. "Who said they were for you? I had a hankering for some flapjacks."
"Can I have one, maybe? Or two. I don't want to ruin my diet," I said.
Now that I thought about it, I was very hungry. My stomach was an empty pit, my body was stretched out and used up, and yet Dad had made pancakes. Maybe we could just avoid talking about anything awkward, and pretend that things were just as good between the both of us as they used to be.
Dad was a master of denial, so why shouldn't I get some practice?
*******
When I was younger, it'd seemed as if a good shower could fix everything. If I was sick, I'd go in the shower and for at least a while the heat and the relaxation would drive the illness back. If I was tired, I'd step out refreshed. If I were sad, I'd at least be a more mellow sort of sad. It was a miracle, a panacea of sorts, and I'd always loved taking showers.
That had changed at some point, and I stepped out of the shower feeling only a little more human as I dressed in a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt, throwing on my clothes with wild abandon and slowly walking down the steps, as if every step was a trap, to face Dad.
"Hey, Taylor, almost thought I'd have to knock on the door, see if you were okay," Dad said.
I wiped some water off my glasses, putting them on as I glanced at the table. Bacon, eggs, and pancakes with syrup were all waiting for me, the smell almost driving me wild as I trudged forward and sat down.
"You okay?"
"Didn't sleep. Just stared up at the ceiling," I said. It wasn't even a lie.
The concern on Dad's face wasn't a lie either. He cared about me. Too bad for how he seemed to be able to show it to me. "I'm sorry to hear that, Taylor."
"I'll catch up with it," I said. "I need to go to Rae's in a bit. She'll be worried that I didn't show up. But… thank you for the food, Dad."
"It wasn't much," Dad said. "Hope it's alright."
I tried to grin, though it felt fake, and almost threatening. "Of course it's alright. You make great pancakes."
"What are you going to do with Rae?" Dad asked, just as I took a bite of the pancakes.
I made sure to chew thoroughly, taking my time to reply. "Take care of her dogs. Probably sleep?"
"Why there and not here?" Dad asked.
I shrugged, since I didn't get it either. I just felt as if I'd have better luck when she was close by. Plus, I could actually talk to her about what had happened. With Dad, I had to dance around why I felt so drained, why I didn't want to close my eyes for too long. Did I feel guilty? No. And it was probably a bad thing that I didn't.
I'd do it again. As many times as needed, if it was to protect her. It felt like a weakness, like a flaw in how I operated. In my moral code, for that matter, too.
"I…"
Suddenly I had the mad idea of trying to explain it. The fact that it felt better to do nothing with her than something without her, sometimes. The way we didn't always even talk about anything important because it didn't matter. Maybe he'd be able to understand, maybe he, who had more experience with this 'love' thing, would be able to tell me if I was crazy or not.
But how could I trust him, how could I tell them? The words caught in my throat as they tried to force their way out. I wanted to focus on the bugs, on what they were doing, to distract myself. If I trailed off, would he comment on it?
I wanted him to understand what I felt, but I wasn't sure that he would be able to. And even if he did, would that just be another excuse for distrusting her? Or thinking she'd manipulated me to make me fall this fast and hard and make me this ridiculous and fumble-tongued.
I was used to being like that, but I wasn't used to it being for a good reason, rather than humiliation and bullying. "I can't say," I said.
"Can't say? Or won't." Dad leaned forward a little. "Taylor, I'm worried."
"I know. It's your job," I snapped, and then took a bite of eggs. All of a sudden my bacon seemed fascinating: far more than actually looking him in the eyes. "I'm fine, though."
"You've been tired most mornings, I've noticed it. And I know you're doing something." Dad leaned forward, I could feel his presence even though I wasn't looking at him. Plus, his seat creaked.
"What? Do you really think I'm the sort?"
"I don't. But…"
"But what? Am I supposed to be some unhinged madwoman just because I have a new… friend and like spending time with her?" I asked. "Or some sort of… of criminal or something, just for having friends? It's a nice change from the rest of my life!"
"I know things are hard at school--" Dad began.
"I'm going to go to Rae's. Thank you for the pancakes," I said, setting down the fork. I'd eaten about half my food, but I didn't think I could stand another bite.
Dad's stare was stunned. He'd never seen me not finish the pancakes he made. I almost wanted him to call me back, ask me to explain, ask me to tell him more about Rae so that he could at least make up his own conspiracy theories with more knowledge.
It wasn't as if the truth would make him happy, either.
But he didn't. He shifted like he wanted to, and he even said, "Taylor?" as I walked up the stairs, before realizing that my backpack was at Rachel's.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Will you be back for dinner? It's chicken," Dad said. "I could make it."
"I can," I said, stumbling upstairs briefly to see if there was anything I forgot. Maybe a few games? I wondered if we could listen to music together. I didn't' have any makeup or anything on, but I knew she didn't care about that sort of thing. There were plenty of people who didn't care for makeup that still cared about it on other people: such as most boys. But she wasn't one of them. I knew that I could come to her just about like what I was when I got out of bed, and she'd at most be worried that I looked unwell.
Soon enough, I was off, and while I didn't feel good enough to jog, I did try a fast walk as I let my bugs spread out.
My range seemed to be improving a little, and I focused on the bugs and what they could see as I moved. When I spent time seeing through the bugs, as it was as if my anger and doubt were all bleeding off. Still, I could imagine the harm I'd caused. I knew I'd done worse, at times, but I'd been disconnected from it.
I'd seen this.
It was vicious, it was hard, and I knew that Rachel would approve. But I almost wanted a second opinion. But not quite as much as I wanted reassurance.
*******
I knocked on the door, and it took two minutes for Rachel to get up and answer. Rachel yawned when she did.
"So," I said. "You're unwell. You should sit down, and let me work with the dogs. You were hurt yesterday."
"Morning," Rachel said, as if I hadn't said anything. "You look like shit."
I flushed beet red. "M-maybe, but it's not like you're a ball of energy either."
Rachel's hair was mussy, her eyes were drooping with exhaustion. She moved forward and hugged me tight, right there. People on the street could see, but I was too tired myself to care. I hugged her back, trying not to do so too hard, because I knew she'd been roughed up.
She'd fallen from her dog after a lucky swipe from Lung sent the dog leaping. The problem was that Angelica had been running rather fast, especially for her size. It wasn't quite the same as falling off a motorcycle, not nearly as fast for one, but the same sort of principles applied.
It was lucky she was wearing armor, which meant what she mostly got were bruises and aches, rather than skin torn off or worse.
"I've fed 'em," Rachel said.
"I can do the rest. Just you sit down, and relax. I'll take care of everything," I said. Then I blushed, as images slowly drifted into my head. First, pleasant ones, and then images of last night. I shuddered a bit. "But once I'm done, could I maybe use your blankets and sheets?"
"Why?"
"I didn't sleep last night," I admitted.
Rachel hugged me tighter, and began to run her hands along my skin, as if I were a dog who just needed a little soothing. She focused on my hair though, because maybe I was a dog that needed soothing, because it hadn't taken Rachel long to learn that if she wanted me to relax, stroking my hair worked wonders.
"Why?" Rachel asked again, stubbornly. I had a feeling that she'd keep on asking why until I spilled everything.
"I really hurt Lung, and I don't regret it at all. I know, you've done just as much to people before," I said. "But I haven't. I feel a little sick thinking about it. But I don't…"
"It's okay," Rachel said. She bit her lip. "It ain't like I like hurting people. Or at least, it's just a thing. If you really loved it, that'd be kinda weird." She shrugged. I imagined that this was probably true. She hadn't really cared about the people she'd mauled, especially if they abused dogs, but I could never imagine her going out of the way to hurt people, or taking pleasure in it.
So maybe she understood not wanting to do something, but not feeling bad about doing it. "I should sleep," I said. "Once I finish helping out with the dogs. And… why was your team even there?"
"Some big team meeting, to talk about whether to take Coil's offer and shit. I think I was going to tell them to fuck off." Rachel frowned. "Or that I'd need more if I agreed, or something…"
"Because you wanted to…"
"With you? They left me behind," Rachel said.
"I told them to. Sorta? I mean, I had the dogs, and Grue wouldn't have helped," I said, firmly. "But… yeah. If you don't want to join them, then don't. But the Protectorate probably thinks I'm a villain now. Best case scenario, they suspect…"
That I'm so friendly with this one villain that I'm sure they can change and I'm willing to help them all the time, which would make me basically a villain, but a well-meaning one. I wondered whether they thought about the possibility that I could be head-over-heels.
"Fuck 'em. If you go out on patrols and bust villains and shit, then it doesn't matter what they think," Rachel said, firmly, as the hugging and stroking continued and she somewhat clumsily guided me towards the back room.
The dogs barked and gathered around us, but Rachel firmly ordered them off, and of course they obeyed. I stumbled and tumbled, my emotions racing in a thousand ways.
It should be me caring for her, and I felt wrong accepting all of this, but just being there in her arms felt good, and this was a chance to sleep with her. In the most innocent sense of the word.
I tumbled onto the pillows and the blankets, which smelled of her, still in her arms, and rolled over. When I closed my eyes, I could still see the blood and gore, I could still imagine that my entire life was going to be ruined by the Protectorate declaring me a villain.
I could imagine a lot of things, for I was someone who was very… imaginative, to say the least.
But there was something more than imagination. There were warm arms that were really there, unlike the blood, unlike the consequences. Unlike the anger and frustration and fear. And there was someone attached to those arms that I thought I loved.
It took too long to fall asleep, but the whole time, Rachel stroked my hair.
*******
I woke three hours later, tangled up with her. She was not quite awake, but she looked like she was stirring, and she shifted as she did.
We were still fully dressed, and I knew we looked a mess, the both of us. "Hey," I said.
Rachel looked at me, and her eyes smiled as her lips wouldn't. "Hey."
There was pawing at the door, and I had to imagine that the dogs had wanted to be cared for. Needed to be cared for. But at the same time, I looked down at her, underneath me, and lucky at that too considering that she was rather heavy, and wanted to just stay like this for a long while.
I let out a breath.
"We should get up," I said.
"Yeah. I need to…"
"I can handle it," I said, firmly, trying not to smile, as I stared at her, really looked at her features and her emotions, tried to understand that look in her eyes. "You just lay back, and let me do everything. You're the one who got bruised around."
I reached a hand to touch her shirt, as if trying to imagine the bruises beneath it. But then, I didn't have to imagine, did I? She was real.
Rachel was staring up at me, and it took a moment for her to think things through. Her brows knit, and then, gaping a little, she said, "Oh."
"I'll be right back," I said. "Just wait."
*********
I took care of the dogs. Cleaned up after them a little, gave them some attention, then went to the restroom and finally returned to Rachel. And then eventually we both had to get up for other reasons.
Eventually was the key word, and by the time I finally got up again, I felt almost as good as new, even though there was that edge to everything I did.
Emma's voice tried to mock me, but I didn't care. I didn't feel guilty about cutting a guy's arm off, so I sure as heck didn't feel guilty about anything else.
"Well, we should wash the costumes," I said. "We have water, and I could just buy some detergent. And we need to go out," I said.
Rachel frowned. "What time is it?"
"One," I said, startled at how long had passed, but also not surprised at all, either. I'd have to go home in a few hours, but I didn't want to. That wasn't new, but I'd never felt the desire so strongly. "So we'd better get going."
It wasn't a whole day wasted, not if I felt better, but it definitely didn't make me savor the idea of going back to school, and dealing with all of that nonsense. Especially since for all that I felt better, I'd still… I'd still gone pretty brutal, and I'd done it where my own, real eyes could see it. I didn't know how I'd be able to hold back if they went too far.
What if I hurt someone?
I wasn't as worried as I might have been, earlier today, but it was still enough reason to be a little leery.
I also hadn't had a chance to help Rachel learn any more reading, but perhaps I could do that on weekday nights, I thought.
If I wasn't busy making sure I hadn't lost the chance to raid the Merchants. They still deserved it, and a few more days and I'd be back and ready to really make them suffer.
Plus, I thought, worries starting to pile up again, next weekend I was introducing dad to Rachel.
Which was sure to go well.
*******
I didn't have a car. That was the first difficulty I realized very quickly when we went out shopping. I had a list in my head, ideas to follow up on, but considering how big terrariums could get, there was no way we were going to carry it to Rachel's on our own.
I'd gotten a few glass fish-bowls, a few terrariums for different sorts of bugs (the rare ones) and some cases and the like that would hopefully hold, say, a wasp's nest so that when I wasn't around it wouldn't sting anyone. And mason jars for the bees.
Literally everything I was getting would have to go as far away from the dogs as possible.
So we'd had to call Lisa.
Lisa, it turned out, had a car.
Rachel was not the best shopping companion ever, at least in the sense that I always imagined it. She bought her shit and then paid for it in cash and then left with it. No mystery, and no window shopping either, but that was just fine.
We didn't have that much time. Not because everything was that rushed, but because I knew that Dad was waiting for me. It was a nice day out, very few clouds at all in the sky, a real May day worth being out in, and nobody paid Rachel a second glance, too busy with their own lives, their own weekend plans.
They had busy weeks ahead of them, just like I did.
Of course, I paid attention to all of them. I was the spider at the center of the web, monitoring hundreds of people while we shopped. I couldn't be too obvious, since a Walmart with hundreds of flies was… at least a little be too crowded with bugs. Slightly. But I still got an impression of the people, their movements, the way that they clustered around what I soon figured out were the sales.
Taken from above, even from the eyes of a bug, the sights I saw made me realize how much people were a group. It was odd, to both be observing a group and yet there with a single person, and I knew that this was a perspective that pretty much nobody else could get. It didn't tell me anything, the few conversations I 'listened in on' (and the more conversations, the more impossible it was to focus) were as expected.
People talked about clothes, or what they were going to buy, or teased each other, or called out to their children not to spend too long in the Toy Section. It was all so very normal, and I should have felt either connected to it all by seeing it, or disconnected by the fact that I was seeing it through a bug's eyes.
After all, wasn't I just being a voyeur? But wasn't this view too complete to be intimate?
Instead, I didn't know how it felt. I did know that now if I had a piece of paper on me, I could have probably written down facts, dates, names.
If information was all that mattered, then I was getting plenty of it, and part of me wondered what Lisa would do with that sort of ability. I imagined the kids running with wide-eyes to check out all of the toys, and thought that they and she might have shared something in common.
I didn't have her power, whatever it was in specific details, but I could figure things out if I wanted to. I knew that I had to have some sort of knack for multitasking, since I was still able to shop all the while taking in this endless wealth of information.
Of course, there was some distraction, as we waited for the car from Lisa, pushing shopping carts out into the crowded parking lot as we scanned for her. I didn't know what sort of car Lisa would even drive, so I couldn't even watch for her.
"You okay?" Rachel asked.
"Just… watching through the bugs," I said, under my breath, low enough that only she could hear.
Her brow pushed together, and her expression looked more curious than I'd thought. "What's it like?"
"I can see the entire store," I said. "And more. All those people, all those lives, and it's like I'm connected to them, and not. I… I don't think I'll be able to imagine my life without it, given time. Maybe even not a lot of time."
"Huh, cool," Rachel said, looking at me with those dark eyes of hers. Well, it wasn't like anyone was going to say something.
I reached out and gripped her hand. It was a rough, blocky sort of hand, with short nails. And she was sweating a little, whether from the heat or stress or something else I didn't know. It was warm, that was definite, and I gripped it tighter as she looked at me in surprise. "What?" I asked, squeezing her hand.
"Uh," Rachel said, and there was red in her face, so cute I had to keep from trying to smile at it, though I had practice. "Didn't expect that."
"Why not?" I asked. I wanted to say more about that. Or mention girlfriends or something, but maybe just holding her hand would help move it in that direction.
I was red-faced too, and I knew that if Emma saw this, well. But fuck that. I needed to keep on not caring about what Emma said. But it was hard. The locker door was still there, no matter how much I kicked. I was definitely making progress, but school was rough enough.
"Dunno," Rachel admitted. Then she said, as if it just occurred to her. "Thought you didn't want to."
"N-no, I mean. Sometimes I just worry what Emma would say if she--"
"Who gives a fuck about Emma?" Rachel asked, feelingly, as she leaned in a little. I had a feeling she was trying to comfort me.
"Well, for the next two years, I'll need to. I have school."
"Fuck it," Rachel said.
"I can't just--"
"Get a GED or whatever," Rachel said, and then, her voice a little lower. "You're really fucking smart." She sounded odd when she said that, vulnerable in a way I sorta understood. I knew that she sometimes felt that people with more education were mocking her. But I'd never do that.
"I mean," I said, staring at her. The truth was, I hadn't really thought about dropping out of high school. At least, not seriously. It just wasn't a thing that was done, even if you were going to get a GED. Because that's what people did: you went to high school for four years, and then you went to college.
The idea of just skipping that felt like it could go wrong. But honestly, I tried to imagine it, and I could. Summer would be great if I could get with it, spending as much time as I could with Rachel.
I pictured getting a GED, and maybe taking a… gap year? If I could find a way not to go broke as a hero, that could be my job, and then I'd work my way through establishing myself that way. It was a path forward, I thought. And in the meantime, I could teach Rachel how to read better, get to know her more…
I realized with a start that in all honesty I was planning a life together. Rather more of a life than I should be planning for when I wasn't even sixteen. But I wanted to.
"Yeah. And I can go to college eventually… later or something," I said. "And we could fight crime together… I mean." I shook my head, "If you wanted."
"I--"
There was a honk of a horn, and then Lisa came up in a rather plain looking brown sedan.
"Well, that's our ride."
*******
Rachel and I sat together in the back seat, and I kept on holding her hand, wondering when she'd tell me to stop, as we drove along. The trunk was absolutely full, and we'd loaded stuff up into the front seat and buckled it in.
"So," Lisa said with a smile that I had to carefully not return, "there's some good news."
"What?" Rachel asked, looking away. She closed off even more than at her worst with me, whenever she was around Lisa, and it made me want to open her back up.
"Well, I'm going to be able to get some more money to you. Coil's throwing a little more money at us in general, probably hoping you'll push the right way," Lisa said. "But I can divert some of it to you, for… whatever you plan."
"Whatever she plans?"
"No, whatever both of you plan," Lisa said. "Together."
I looked away, wishing I was someone else, but I kept on holding her hand.
"Taylor doesn't want me to join Coil," Rachel said, with narrowed eyes.
"And that's fine if you don't want to join, or even… if you want to leave the Undersiders. I don't want you to, but I can't think of any way to stop you," Lisa said.
"Yeah," Rachel said, crossing her arms. She didn't believe Lisa, and certainly, Lisa could be charming.
But her charm didn't seem to work on Rachel, so maybe Lisa had given up on trying.
"So I'd rather help you," Lisa said. "Both of you. You're good for each other and--"
"Bullshit. What's your game?" Rachel asked, looking frustrated.
"My game is simple. I don't want Arachne here to be unhappy. I think you help each other. I suspect she'd be in a far worse place if she hadn't found you," Lisa said. "Am I not allowed to have feelings?"
"I admit I'm suspicious too."
"Well, I'm helping you now. My advice is that if you're trying to go straight, find a way to make everything that Rachel did look nicer." Lisa frowned, "Maybe play up the dog angle? Caring for dogs is pretty popular, as long as you ignore…"
She trailed off, but I knew what she meant. Even if she hadn't ever really murdered someone, the 'Kill' command spoke of a willingness to do so if she was put in a situation where it'd work, and as brutal as she was, it was luck that she hadn't done worse.
And I'd need to make sure she didn't go too far. "I… we can figure this out later," I said. "Right now? Right now I just want to try to get stuff set up. And then I need to go back to Dad's."
"I could go with you. Be another friend you met?" Lisa offered.
It was actually a very, very good idea, but it also seemed like it'd confuse the issue. I bit my lip, leaning back, and then shook my head. "No, thank you. But… it's a good idea. Maybe if you talked to him he'd be less paranoid."
"Is he doing anything?" Rachel asked.
"No. But he doesn't trust any of this," I said. "We're going to have to hit it out of the park next weekend with the visit."
"The… oh," Rachel said, frowning. "I don't have…"
She trailed off, and I could imagine filling in the blanks. She was sweating a little more now, nervous and uncertain. I hadn't expected that.
"What?" I asked.
"Do you wear dresses or whatnot to… whatever?" Rachel asked.
I tried not to smile and laugh. "No. Just… dress in a nice pair of jeans and a decent shirt, and that's it. You know, nothing much, just… you look nice in anything, anyways."
Lisa stared at me for a moment, before shaking her head. I could imagine what she was thinking. Because yes, it was my subjective opinion, and I knew by now that I was completely compromised when it came to my judgement in this respect.
Maybe every respect.
She drove along for a while and said, "You know, if I were you…"
"What?"
"Go after someone as soon as possible, and turn them into the Protectorate. Prove that you're genuine," Lisa said. "They're not acting now because they don't know what you are. If they were sure either way, they'd do something else. More than that, though. I'd make sure to state that you captured Oni Lee."
"Why?" Rachel asked, looking puzzled.
"If you get it and everything else out in the open, then they'll be less willing to press-gang you. And less able. My analysis shows that's part of why Shadow Stalker was so easy to co-opt. Besides going too far in her violence, she didn't advertise herself enough," Lisa said.
I nodded, frowning a little. I'd definitely paid a lot of attention to Shadow Stalker's case, both for what to do and what not to do. She wasn't my hero or idol or anything, but she was an example of a female vigilante in Brockton Bay. Who had wound up in the Wards.
"Advertising?" Rachel asked with a snort.
"Yeah," I said. "Rachel gets fans without even trying that." I was joking though, but Rachel looked at me, eyes narrowed. Not sure whether I was joking or not. "Seriously. You have websites of fans. Not a huge amount, but… turns out that people like dogs."
"Some people," Rachel said, and I knew she was thinking about all of those people who abused their dogs, or neglected them. "Not enough."
"But some," I said. "Anyways, it's not important. I'll… keep your advice in mind."
Lisa failed not to smile, and Rachel's mood got a little bit worse. But then, that was that.
*******
I cooked dinner. I took credit, typing in a bunch of self-serving truths. I went to bed and slept well, but woke up tense, worried. Nervous about what the week would bring.
For the first time in a while, my long term future seemed like it could work out, if I just found a way to not wind up declared a villain, and if the dinner went alright this weekend.
So instead of this odd, long-term dread, there was this feeling like I was walking on glass. If I did something wrong, if I was pushed too far--an arm, laying down on the ground, blood flowing everywhere--I could screw everything up royally.
When I got downstairs, I said, "Dad, do I have to go to school today?"
"Why?" Dad asked, narrowing his eyes. He wasn't making pancakes this morning, but he did have eggs and bacon.
"It just seems… I don't." I frowned. How to describe the fact that I'd almost been pushed too far on Friday, and then I'd seriously hurt several men. They deserved it, but while Emma, Sophia, and Madison didn't deserve
that, they did deserve
something.
I wasn't supposed to think that way. I'd told Rachel about my choice, and stood by it, but violence bled over.
"You're going. I'll take you myself, if need be. If you're not sick." Dad said it with a frown and a glare, and I knew I wasn't going to get away with it.
So I gave in.
*********
The day started promisingly at first. I'd managed somehow to get my homework done, and because I didn't use my locker, and had all of it sealed up, there was nothing they could do, at least not easily. Not like some 'accidental' spilling of juice all over a completed assignment.
It probably made me look anal-retentive, presenting everything in plastic, but so what. My bugs were spread out, seeing everything, and I wrote it down in my spare time, tense and annoyed and waiting for something to go wrong. Or right, for that matter.
Instead, it mostly just went along, bobbing along in the stream of life.
By the time I ate lunch and talked to Greg about some new anime he was watching that he thought was amazing, but sounded a little weird to me. Of course, there wasn't nearly as much anime coming out now as there used to be, as he explained to me--as if I hadn't heard of Leviathan--but still.
Then, just before my last class, it happened.
I was walking with Greg when I saw Sophia coming up on one side. Actually, I'd felt her for a while, through my bugs, but I'd been sure that I could just give her the slip.
And behind me was Emma and Madison… ambush, then.
Oh, great. I bared my teeth and kept on walking, but Sophia stopped and stood up in front of me.
"Taylor?" Greg asked.
I was staring right at her, with my teeth bared. My shoulders were hunched in a way I'd seen Rachel do before, right before she attacked. I took a breath, and tried to step around Sophia. She stepped back in the way as Emma caught up.
"So, Taylor, a friend of mine saw you this weekend…"
I took a breath, unable to keep from flinching. If she'd seen me with Rachel, and somehow there was a picture, could she figure out who Rachel was and ruin everything? That was a downside to her lack of secret identity, though pictures of Rachel weren't actually common online. Not compared to pictures of her as a villain in her old costume: perhaps it was a matter of censorship, and being careful not to entirely ruin the chance at a second chance.
Or perhaps Rachel hadn't liked cameras.
I just needed to play it cool. What did she see?
"Jogging in the bad part of town," Emma said. "What were you doing, looking for drugs? Snort a line of coke off the ground and…"
Oh. She'd only seen me going to Rachel's, then. Or at least, me in that general area. I could work with that.
"Taylor," Greg said.
I realized I was still furious, but I could control it. "You know, I wonder," I said, sharply, "what your Dad would think about how vulgar and disgusting his daughter is, making up lies like that."
"You weren't there?" Emma asked, more amused than anything, as Sophia and Madison circled like sharks. It was in moments like these that it felt like Emma was the one in charge. At other times, Emma deferred to Sophia, but when it came time for insults and bullshit, she was definitely the one who the others followed.
I shook my head, hoping that the bell rang. I needed an excuse to back down even more, but I didn't want to just duck my head and run away. I didn't want to back down, and I found that I couldn't, not really.
"Oh, maybe instead of that, you were being a prostitute, or something? Or maybe meeting some white-trash boyfriend of yours. Maybe that's why you smell like dogs. He has a few, and he's a filthy…" Emma trailed off, and glanced behind me. I turned, to see that Greg had winced.
"Really? That's it? You have a boyfriend. How sweet. I bet he's just as ugly as you," Emma said, her voice sing-song.
The next thing I knew, I punched her. It was a reflex, I didn't think. I just surged forward and felt my fist hit her face. It wasn't a great punch, but she went down. My hand hurt more than I thought it would, and I stood there for a moment.
Just a quick breath, and then I felt something slam into my shoulder, and then I hit the locker face first.
"Agh!" I yelled, furiously, trying to avoid lashing out with my bugs, which buzzed and moved in the rooms for a moment. Just a bunch of flies, nothing to pay attention to.
Sophia grabbed my arm roughly, forcing it behind my back. "You're fucking—" Sophia began, but by then a teacher was running towards us. I groaned, my shoulder aching even worse than I expected, and I glanced down at where Emma was, twisting my head as Greg quivered, looking as if he were just a single moment from rabitting.
Emma's nose was bleeding, and my shoulder was probably bruised up, but other than that it seemed as if the fight was over before it even started. In a physical fight, I didn't stand a chance against Sophia, and it hurt.
Any fantasy of some sort of revenge evaporated in pain.
"Break it out! Break it up!" the teacher yelled. He was a big, balding man, and it took a pained moment to remember his name. Mr. Burowitz.
Sophia got off me, stepping away, and with an efficiency that I only wished they showed towards literally anything and everything else, we were all whisked away to the office.
********
It was late afternoon in Principal Blackwell's office, and I was pretty sure that it was going to be someone's funeral. The pain was still distracting me, and I slumped in my seat. Myself, Greg, and all three of the Trio were all clustered here and there. There weren't enough seats, so Madison was standing.
Apparently, as one of the wounded, and the one who started it, I got to sit down and listen to Sophia tell a bunch of lies.
"So then she just walked right up to us and started calling us names, and Emma said she wouldn't stand it, that she'd tell a teacher, and that's when she snapped…"
The Principal neither nodded nor shook her head. Dirty-blonde, narrow as a razor, and wearing clothes far too dark, she was not an imposing figure at all. "Taylor, is that what happened?"
"No," I said. "Greg'd back me up." I was crossing my arms, and I knew it was pointless to even try. "I was trying to get to class, and they stopped me and started insulting me. Making accusations." I took a breath, trying to be sincere. I wanted to ask to get the book, to show them what the fuck they were doing, but I honestly wasn't sure if they'd do anything. "I lashed out, without thinking. Then she slammed me into a locker before I'd so much as blinked."
"It seems to me that both sides have erred," the Principal said, in the kind of voice I imagined was supposed to come off as reasonable. I tried not to snort, but I was getting more and more annoyed. "However, let's hear from other people."
Emma told the same story, Madison told the same story, Greg told my story, which was also known as the truth, and the Principal frowned. "What matter was it?"
"I don't know," Emma said, through a handkerchief. I'd given her a bloody nose, at least, and I almost wished I'd done more. "She just stepped up and started insulting me. Calling me a whore…"
"I didn't!" I said, loudly. "She's the one who insinuated…"
"Calm down, Taylor," the Principal said, and I realized I was leaning forward. "I believe that no matter what either party said, it doesn't justify violence. Sophia Hess, you hit someone and slammed them into the locker. You'll receive two days ISS."
Sophia grit her teeth, but didn't say anything.
"Taylor, by all accounts you started the violence, and thus I think it's fair, and the handbook agrees, that you get three days ISS."
"What the fuck," I said. "How is that anything like fair?"
"Language," Principal Blackwell said. "And what about that is not fair?"
"They've been bullying me since forever, and I'm the one that got slammed into the locker and put into a hold," I said. "And she's getting less? What the he--"
"Three days OSS," the Principal corrected. "And your father will be informed of your misuse of blue language."
Blue… language? Had she ever stepped out into the halls of this school? I grit my teeth.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes… I do." I understood that I wasn't going to get anything like fairness or justice here, and screw even trying. I ground my teeth together, but added a nod, and she seemed satisfied with the form, if not the reality, of compliance.
"I'll be calling both of your parents, and you'll be going home today as soon as they arrive. Do both of your understand this? I'll be writing up both accounts, and sending them home to your parents."
"Yes," we both chorused.
Sophia didn't look like she realized that she'd won. I'd gotten punished harder than them for something that was mostly their fault. I hated it, and I wanted to lash out at them for real. Put a fly in their soup, sting them with the force of a dozen bees.
Instead I trembled in rage and frustration.
********
The first half of the drive home was silent. Dad drove wildly, clearly angry and frustrated, shoulders hunched.
Finally, once we were almost home, he said, "You hit someone. I didn't teach you that."
"I snapped," I said, aware that he was right. He'd gone out of his way to be positively Blackwellian when it came to violence ever solving things, at least in my presence. It was mostly because he was afraid of his own anger, sometimes.
Not that I couldn't understand that a little now. "You can't snap," he said.
"They were… calling me a druggie and a prostitute. And then they started talking about about…"
"Start from the beginning, Taylor," Dad said firmly.
"One of their friends saw me jogging to Rae's house, though they didn't see her. And Emma and Sophia and Madison, they've been bullying me since the fall after Mom died. They're the ones who did the locker, and they've done all sorts of things like it before." I shook my head. "She didn't even know Rae was a girl, she just guessed that I was meeting someone, and then Greg had to flinch, and she started talking about Rae…"
"So she caused this?" Dad asked.
"What kind of question is that. Emma caused it," I growled, shaking my head, and looking away. "I just want to be out of there. I was talking with Rae, and she suggested getting a GED once I'm old enough. Then I can get to college early and be out of that miserable pit."
"I'm not opposed to that," Dad said, after a long moment where it seemed like he was trying to compose himself. "But why are you talking so much with…"
"With Rae? Cause I think I love her," I said, and then realized that my mouth had run ahead of my brain. "Maybe? But either way, it's not bad advice, is it?"
"No. Once you get home, we can talk about the details of your OSS, but this is an actual punishment," Dad said. "I'll try to do something about the bullying, and the fact that Emma was doing something like that? It matters. But responding that way…"
"Fine," I said, crossing my arms. "I should go and see Rae, tell her what's going on."
"No. It's clear, Taylor, that she's a bad influence on you. Or at least, that's the way it seems from where I'm sitting. So, until I have that dinner with her, you're forbidden from seeing any of her." Dad nodded to himself, as if he thought that this was some reasonable compromise.
"What's the dinner for?"
"To see if I'm going to allow you to--"
"Allow me?! Allow me?! You don't have the key on my chastity belt, and you're not in charge of me."
"Yes I am, actually," Dad said firmly. "I'm your father and I'm worried."
"Just because I got into one little fight?"
"I doubt that's the only one. I saw bruises. Either she's hitting you, or you're getting into fights and not even telling me about it."
I stared at him in horror. "So you're forbidding me from seeing her again?"
I could barely breathe. I felt like I was trapped in a small, tiny little box. I felt like I was back where i was all those months again. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were wet. I blinked back the tears, trying to be defiant but most of all feeling defeated and exhausted.
"At the moment, yes. But that can change."
"This isn't fair!"
"It'll be alright, Taylor," Dad said. "I'm sure that we can work all of this out, this weekend. We're still on for the dinner. You have Tuesday through Thursday to stay at home, do homework, and we can think and talk this through. I can take a day or two off."
To watch me. To make sure I didn't go to Rachel.
I sat in silence for the rest of the ride.
********
I threw myself down on the bed, leaking tears, and then took a deep breath, trying to relax and focus. A few months ago, I would have hoped that I could convince him through some sort of Friday or Saturday dinner. I would have been sure, if I could imagine this, that he'd see reason.
And I'd be patient enough to wait it out, hesitant and afraid. Instead, I got up after a dozen moments and pulled out a few bags. There was my backpack, and then I had a travel bag or two.
I also had a cell-phone. I dialed a number with shaking hands. "Hello, Rachel?" I asked, in a low voice.
"What? You okay?" Rachel asked, hearing something in my voice.
"No. I…" I trailed off. "If I wanted to stay with you for a while, would that be okay?"
"Of course," Rachel said, without even thinking about it.
"Can you…" I began. "Show up around here to pick me up? I mean, just in case…"
"What happened?"
"I punched Emma."
"Good," Rachel said.
"...Not so great," I said. "But… can you?"
I didn't really doubt her answer, and yet I still found myself nervously holding my breath as I waited. This was a stupid mistake, or at least, that's what the voice in the back of my head was screaming. I shouldn't--
"Yes. I can."
**********
I had to pack light. Even if I loaded myself down like a mule, I didn't have a car, and I wasn't going to be able to take most of my books, for instance. So I tried to take the ones that mattered most. Ones I'd gotten from my Mom, and ones I could teach Rachel with. I'd leave my textbooks behind and…
And I admit I hadn't thought that much further than that. Would the school send someone after me? I was pretty sure that truancy officers didn't exist anymore, not in the same way that they did in movies. And Dad didn't know where Rachel lived. So there was that.
Books, clothes, toothbrushes, tampons, shampoo, nail-clippers… I just piled what I needed into the backpack or the travel bag and hoped it'd be enough. I could always buy more clothes later, I thought, aware that this was a drastic step.
But there was no way that Dad was going to be reasonable and give Rachel an actual chance. None at all. And I don't know how I'd get through three or four days without her, let alone the rest of my life.
Yes, it was a bit dramatic, but he was the one who cut me off after my first write-up. I'd had an almost-perfect record until then, and he knew what the bullying did to me, and yet it seemed like he blamed me for reacting… and Rachel for teaching me to react that way.
Maybe my experience as a cape taught me to resort to violence quicker, but I didn't blame Rachel at all.
I waited, my bugs mostly spread out to watch for Rachel, though I kept a few downstairs as Dad drank, and then drank some more. Finally he stopped moving, though the bugs couldn't hear any snores.
I waited until, just at the edge of my rather impressive range--it'd increased again, for the moment--I saw Rachel. Then I hitched up the bags and glanced around my room.
I wasn't sure when I'd see it again.
But I couldn't stay here. It was like a feeling in the pit of my stomach, this certainty that this was not the place for me. That this was going to end badly if I stayed. So down I went, down the stairs. At the bottom, though, one of my bugs saw Dad shift.
I paused, the stairs creaking as Dad stood up. He looked like a mess. "Taylor," he said. "What are you doing?"
He sounded like he knew, and I said. "You can't stop me."
"Yes I can. You're my daughter. Yes I can." The second time he said it, his voice raised all the way almost into a shout as he stepped forward. "Go up to your room."
Bugs were already gathering, and I had them fly out in front of him. He took a step back, almost tripping over his own feet, his eyes red and hard as I began to walk towards the door.
Then he stepped forward, right as I gathered a few bees. They buzzed in front of him, and he stopped, realizing that this was something off. Something wrong.
"Taylor?" he asked, again.
"I'm leaving," I said, and my words seemed to echo in the swarm of bees I had, in a way I hadn't expected. "I'll call you. But this isn't right, and it isn't fair. You're not going to give it a chance, and I…"
I trailed off, not sure what to say. The decision had come fast, but it felt like this had been building up for a long time. I'd been withdrawing from Dad, and him from me, for way too long to stop now.
"Bye."
"Taylor!" he yelled, but didn't step towards me, didn't stop me as I threw the door open and stormed out into the night.
*******
A/N: Thanks to
@NemoMarx.
