Chapter Text
Monday - January 17
I glance at the map in my hand, brow furrowing as I try to figure out where my next class is. My transfer to Arcadia was last minute enough that I didn’t have time to familiarize myself with the building’s layout, hence my current confusion. I turn a corner that I swear I’ve already walked around three times now, and crash into someone going the opposite direction.
“Fuck-” she says, her voice both squeaky and rough.
“Sorry,” I mumble, shrinking into myself slightly as I take in the small angry girl before me.
She’s a good four inches shorter than me, which isn’t unusual given my own awkward height of 5’8”, and she’s much curvier than I am, a fact that makes my face go red with embarrassment and what I assume is jealousy. Her face is dotted in freckles, and her brown eyes are locked in what looks like a perpetual glare while surrounded by the dark bags of sleep deprivation. Her shoulder length hair draws my gaze, and I can’t help but be impressed at the tangled forest of light brown curls.
All in all, she gives the appearance of an angry mouse, or maybe a grumpy raccoon.
“Just watch where you’re going in the future. What’s got you in such a hurry anyway?” She asks, brushing off her sweater.
I hunch a little more, before taking a deep breath and straightening my back. I’m not being bullied here, and Emma can’t get me anymore. I don’t have to hide. “I’m just looking for Ms. Arnold’s class. It’s my first day, and I haven’t figured out the layout yet.”
She gives me an appraising look, her eyes lingering on my legs in a way that makes me blush slightly.
“Well, you’re going the wrong way. I’ve got that class next, so if you wanna follow me I won’t complain.” She says with a shrug before pushing past me.
It takes me a second to realize she’s trying to be nice to me, and I quickly move to follow.
“Thanks. I’m Taylor by the way.” I say as I move to walk next to her.
She shoots me a suspicious glance, eyes narrowing. “Amy, but you probably already knew that.”
I blink in surprise, before shaking my head. “Why would I know your name? I told you it’s my first day, I don’t know anyone yet.”
“Huh,” she says, seeming genuinely surprised. Maybe she’s a celebrity or something?
I wrack my brain for where I might have seen or heard of her before, but before I can figure it out she speaks again.
“Wait, your first day? School’s been back from winter break for a week, and it’s the second semester anyway, so how is this your first day?” She asks, her curiosity marred by an accusing tone that I’m beginning to suspect is her default way of asking questions.
“I uh, transferred in.” I mumble slightly. “Things weren’t good at my last school, and my dad was able to get them to transfer me out instead of trying to deal with… well yeah.” I shrug, trying to act casual even as I shudder internally.
Emma and Sophia had set up an absolute sick prank for after winter break, and if I hadn’t already told my dad about the bullying? If we hadn’t been going straight to the office to deal with it and get me transferred? I might have ended up trapped in that locker with all that garbage, if Madison’s confession was to be believed. I’m not sure I trust her assertion that she didn’t know about the “prank” until that morning, but I’m still grudgingly grateful that she spoke up at all. Her testimony was the last straw needed to convince the principal that a transfer for me would be better than trying to deal with Emma and Sophia.
That the school had to be shut down for cleaning due to the literal toxic sludge in my locker was another point that maybe I wasn’t safe in that school.
“Damn, really? That sucks. Can’t imagine how bad things would get to be bumped up the waiting list for this school mid year. Normally they only do that for new Wards.” Amy’s voice is still a bit gruff and scratchy, but there’s a hint of respect underneath it all.
I give an awkward chuckle, hoping the topic doesn’t linger. “Yeah, definitely not a new Ward. Pretty sure they don’t accept people without powers.”
She snorts. “Yeah no, gotta have trauma powers to be a super cop.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so we trudge the rest of the way to class in silence.
*****
Ms. Arnold’s history class is much better than Mr. Gladly’s weak attempts to teach. Unfortunately, the bar there is low enough that I still find myself bored after five minutes of lecturing. There are only so many times you can hear the sanitized versions of early cape history before your brain starts to seep out of your ears. In all honesty, classes like this are why I don’t think I’ve even been interested in capes outside the abstract.
“You look as bored as I feel,” the grumpy mass of hair next to me says.
“It’s not something I haven’t heard before. Besides, I can practically feel the propaganda oozing out from between her words.” I shrug.
She snorts in amusement. “You sound like my sister. Are you also a cape geek?”
“Nah, never really got into them that way. I just know how to spot a cover-up from a mile away, and cape history has always reeked of bias and falsehood to me.”
“You’d probably like my sister then. She’s obsessed with capes and goes out of her way to research them. She said the same thing about cape history until she tested out and started taking college classes on the subject.” Amy says with a somewhat wistful look on her face.
“Huh, I never thought about that. So, she’s going to college early?” I prod, interested in the idea of getting out of highschool a year or two early.
“Sort of. She still goes to school here for most of her courses, she’s just taking a couple electives at Brockton University.”
I mull over this new information while Ms. Arnolds drones on about Vikare and the law that passed with his death. The idea of it being illegal to unmask government capes strikes me as very uncomfortable, especially since it doesn’t actually have any connection to Vikare and how he died.
“Why do they call the law about unmasking government capes the Vikare Act when Vikare was a vigilante killed in a riot? Nothing about him or his death has anything to do with unmasking.” I mutter.
“Probably just want to use his name.” Amy says, catching me off guard. I hadn’t realized she was listening.
“That’s kinda dumb.” I say, my opinion of this history class dropping rapidly.
“Eh, it is what it is. It’s still a good law, since it helps keep heroes safe and all that.” Amy says, before slumping back into her chair.
I’m not actually convinced that putting masks on cops is a good thing, but I also don’t know that much about cape culture.
“Hey, come with me to lunch.” Amy says suddenly.
I blink in surprise, caught off guard. “What?”
“You’re cool, come get lunch with me. I’ll introduce you to my sister, and you can be nerdy with her. It’ll be funny.” She gives me a grin that is honestly a bit unsettling. It’s like she’s not used to being happy so the muscles don’t move the way they should.
“Uh, alright, sure.”
She nods in satisfaction at my lackluster response, and I spend the rest of the class wondering what about me is cool at all. I try to suppress the part of me that whispers about this being an elaborate trap to make fun of me, but I’m less successful than I would like.
It’s with some dread and trepidation that I follow Amy out of the classroom and towards the lunchroom.
“Yeesh, you look like you’re walking to the executioner’s block.” Amy says with what I’m recognizing as her trademark frown.
I shrug, trying to stop myself from hunching inwards again. “Just not used to eating with other people. I haven’t done it in a while.”
She gives me a blank stare for a minute. “Sure whatever. It’ll be fine though.”
*****
The cafeteria is nearly completely filled with students, and the noise is deafening. Amy has to practically drag me to her table, and it takes me a moment to convince myself that I’m not the center of attention. Thankfully, I’m distracted as soon as we reach the table.
“Hey Vicky. This is my new friend Taylor. I found her and now she’s mine.” Amy snarks, pulling me onto the bench across from her sister.
“Hey Taylor, I’m Victoria. Nice to meet you. This is Jacob, Sarah, and Andrea” She says with a dazzling smile, pointing out each of her other friends in turn.
Her long blonde hair is silky and straight, reaching down past her shoulder blades. She’s wearing a tasteful blouse that manages to accentuate her bust without looking trashy, and her denim jacket is tight enough to show off the muscle definition in her upper arms. Sitting down, it’s apparent that she’s somewhat close to my height, which makes her a bit tall for a girl, although I can’t be completely accurate with my guess until we both stand up.
Her brown eyes shine with curiosity and unbridled energy, and her smile is as radiant as the sun. It’s only natural that I blush when faced with someone as pretty as her. I can’t even feel jealous, because she’s just that beautiful.
“Vicky, aura.” Amy says automatically.
Victoria frowns at her. “I’m not doing anything. You know I’ve been working on my control, and I haven’t slipped in weeks.”
Amy blinks slowly. “Huh. You’re right, sorry. I just assumed ‘cause Taylor started spacing out.”
I blush furiously. I don’t know exactly what aura refers to, although my first thought would be a parahuman power. “Sorry, I’m just a bit overwhelmed.” I say, trying to defuse the situation. “What do you mean by aura anyway?”
Everyone at the table stares at me for a moment, and I start to shrink. Victoria laughs, and I can feel tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.
“Sorry sorry, just. I expected you to know who I was already. I’m Victoria Dallon, otherwise known as Glory Girl.” She says, and suddenly her laughter makes sense.
I’m still absolutely mortified that I didn’t notice, but at least they weren’t making fun of me. “Oh uh, nice.” I say, eloquently.
“One of my powers is an Aura that affects emotions, and I used to have trouble controlling it.” Victoria explains. “After…”
She trails off, looking slightly despondent before shaking her head. “After I broke up with Dean, I decided to try and control my Aura better. He was complaining about its effects on the people around him and was blaming all the attention I get from other guys on it.
“Turns out I’m popular even without it, and Dean was just being a jealous jerk. Still, I managed to learn a lot of cool control tricks in the process.” She says with a smile that looks only a little bit brittle.
“I told you he was an asshole.” Amy says, stabbing at her salad like it insulted her mother.
“Fine fine, you were totally right Amy.” Victoria sighs, and an awkward silence descends on the table as I nibble my pita wrap.
“So Taylor, you just transferred in? How are you liking things?” The brown haired girl introduced as Andrea asks.
“Yeah, I transferred from Winslow. Arcadia is nice so far, although history class is still boring.” I say with a shrug.
“Ugh tell me about it. I wish they would focus more on actual history rather than repeat the same sanitized version of the last 30 years over and over again.” Victoria says.
“Oh no, don’t get her started.” Jacob jokes.
“Hey, I don’t interrupt you when you go off about robotics!” Victoria says with a smile, jabbing her fork in his direction.
“Yeah, but you probably should.” Sarah snarks, wrapping her arm around Jacob’s in the process. “If you let him, he’ll talk for hours!”
I smile at their antics, and end up joining in on a few of the conversations. Victoria knows a lot about capes, and for once I’m actually interested in the topic.
“Conflict drive?” I ask, tilting my head slightly.
“Yeah, it’s this theory that Parahumans are driven to fight each other by their powers. While it’s already been well established that powers want to be used, and not using them causes mental issues, Conflict Drive Theory posits that having powers pushes you to get into fights.” Victoria explains, even as Amy rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, cause I totally want to go out and punch people.” she says, and it occurs to me that Amy is also a cape. Panacea to be exact. I don’t bring it up, since it doesn’t really matter for this conversation.
“I could say you’re the exception that proves the rule, but I could also argue that your endless snark and hostility is a manifestation of that drive.” Victoria says with a grin. Amy’s face goes scarlet as she sputters denials, and the rest of us chuckle at her expression.
“Anyway,” Victoria continues, “the opposing theory is that powers manifest in people who are already predisposed to get into fights. Given that powers are granted at moments of trauma, this theory seems more likely to me.”
I nod a few times, trying to think of what little I know of capes. “I wish I knew more about this.” I finally say with a sigh. “This is really interesting, but I don’t know enough to have a conversation about it.”
“What’s your phone number? I’ll send you links to some papers.” Victoria says, and I blush with embarrassment.
“I uh. I don’t have a phone.”
Victoria blinks with surprise. “Oh uh. That’s fine. Email? PHO account?” I nod, scrawling both of them down on a piece of paper. Amy scrawls something on a piece of paper as well before passing it to Victoria, who writes down her own information. Before long, I have the phone numbers, email addresses, and PHO accounts of the entire table.
“T-thanks.” I stammer out, not sure how to process this.
“Of course. You should get a phone soon if you can. It’s really not safe to be out and about in this city without one.” Victoria says, with the rest of the group echoing their agreement.
Normally I would protest, and bring up my dad’s trauma with them but… They’re right. It’s not safe in this city, especially not for teen girls. Having a phone might save me in a bad situation. More than that, it’s my dad’s trauma, not mine.
“I’ll talk to my dad about it.” I say, trying to bolster myself with this new confidence.
“Great! Anyway, I’ve got to go to class. See you later Taylor!” Victoria says, dashing off with a smile.
I follow her out of the room with my eyes, and jolt with surprise when Amy nudges my shoulder. She has a slight smirk on her face as she speaks. “See, told you she was a nerd.”
I blush slightly. “I mean, that’s not a bad thing.”
“Never said it was. You’re a nerd too, and I’ve already decided you’re my new friend. If nothing else, you’ll make history class more interesting.” She says with a shrug.
I feel myself rapidly warming. A friend. Part of me is terrified, since my last friendships all went terribly. Another part of me is excited, because somehow I’ve managed to make several new friends on my first day back to school. I only hope it’ll last.
“Anyway, what’s your next class?” Amy asks, pulling out her phone and poking at some idle game involving girls with far too little clothing.
“Uh, math with Mr. Bakers.” I say, checking my schedule and pointedly trying not to look at the scantily clad anime girls on her phone.
“Sweet, I’ve got that class too. You can sit next to me, that way I don’t have to deal with Markus anymore.” Amy says, and immediately starts complaining about the boy who always tries to sit next to her, and about how he alternates between badly flirting and trying to beg her for healing and dick enlargement.
I smile at my new friend, feeling hopeful about school for the first time in ages.
*****
Thursday - January 20th
“Hey Taylor, what are you reading?” My dad asks, catching me slightly off guard.
“Oh uh, I’m reading books on Parahuman history and psychology. School is really bad about this, but one of my new friends is super into it and I want to know what she’s talking about. She recommended these books and I’ve been flipping through them.” I say, shrugging slightly and hoping my blush isn’t too obvious. Lately I’ve been having odd feelings while thinking about Victoria, even having only known her for less than a week.
“Hmm.” Dad says, looking thoughtful. “You know, your mom was really into this during college.”
I look up, caught off guard. He hasn’t talked about mom in a while. His eyes still hold some of the familiar sadness, but there’s more of a nostalgic tint to the sadness now.
“I told you she was a part of Lustrum’s movement right?” He says, and I nod in the affirmative.
“You mentioned that yeah. She used to run with Lustrum, but left before things got really bad.” I say, and he chuckles.
“Well, sort of. She says she left before things got “bad”, but really she was able to avoid the roundups and claim she left earlier after the fact. There were a lot of people who managed to avoid the worst of the PRT and police intervention by covering their tracks and simply vanishing.” Dad says, casually revealing that mom was far more involved in Lustrum’s organization than I had originally been told.
“Really? You made it sound like she was on the outskirts or something.” I can’t stop the slightly incredulous tone that colors my voice.
“You were younger then, and we figured you didn’t need to know all the details until you were older. She was actually one of Lustrum’s lieutenants, and knew her personally.” I stare wide eyed at my dad as he explains.
“Actually, that reminds me. She wrote a lot of journals during that time, mostly so she would have a written record of the movement. I believe she wanted to write a book about it once the scandal died down, but…” A pained look flashes across his face for a second. “Anyway, let me get those for you. I think you’ll find them interesting.”
He heads up stairs, and a couple minutes later returns with a box of journals.
“I’ve been planning to digitize them, but haven’t had time lately. If you want, we can make that a weekend project for a bit?” He asks, slightly hesitant.
I feel my eyes watering as I look at my mom’s journals, and I start crying when I see my dad’s hopeful expression. I stand up and throw my arms around him in a hug. “I’d love that dad.”
I finally have my dad back, and I have a piece of my mom I’ve never seen before. For the first time in years, it feels like my life is looking up.
*****
Saturday - January 22nd
A couple days later, and I’ve read through several of my mom’s journals. Apparently she was very bisexual, and spent a lot of time wooing someone named Kimmy, who was one of Lustrum’s capes. Someone with the power to make things rot, which she apparently used to punish rapists. As gross as that sounds, I can’t help but respect the lengths they would go to protect girls.
I’m absolutely drinking in as much as I can about my mom. Apparently she liked metal and rock music, and wore combat boots everywhere. The image of my English teacher mother going around with dyed hair, a leather jacket, and combat boots while listening to metal music and kissing girls is incredibly powerful, and a part of me wants to copy her.
Dad pulled out some of her old records, and I found a handful of bands I like. It turns out that Amy also has a thing for metal music, and she sent me some recommendations when I mentioned my new found interest in music. I also dug out my mom’s old leather jacket from the basement, but I’ve been too self conscious about my appearance to do much more than hang it up and look at it.
I’ve never related to my mom more than I do now, and a part of me is disappointed that I’m not bisexual like she is. At least, I don’t think I’m bisexual. I’ve never thought too hard about who I’m attracted to, being much more focused on avoiding Emma’s bullying.
If I was bisexual, who would date me anyway? I’m not the most attractive person, and my terrible clothing options don’t help with that. Maybe if I was more attractive, more people would be into me and I could figure it out. As it is, I’m probably going to be on my own for a while.
My mind continues to stray towards people I might date if I was into girls. Emma is the first person to pop into my head, but I dismiss her as quickly as I can. We were close once, but a year and a half of bullying tends to crush any chance of a relationship. Amy is my new best friend, and she is cute in a prickly and mousy sort of way… but I don’t really see myself with her.
My mind strays to Victoria, and I find myself blushing. Victoria is easily one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, and she’s also incredibly smart and caring. It’s so easy to talk to her, and our conversations have only gotten more stimulating as I’ve done more research into cape culture and psychology. If there was a girl I was going to date, I would want them to be like Victoria. Hell, if I was going to date anyone, I’d want them to be like Victoria.
There’s a part of me that really hopes I am bisexual. Partially for that extra connection to my mom, and partially because if I was bisexual, it would mean I could date Victoria. Well, assuming she was into women, but that doesn’t really matter in a hypothetical like this.
I spend the next hour laying in bed, daydreaming about dating Victoria and talking to her about capes and music.
I really hope I’m actually bisexual, because that sounds really nice.