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Lloyd didn't particularly enjoy it when the bus arrived early at school, long before the bell rang.
People got bored.
So, naturally, to remedy this ailment, the son of Garmadon proved to be quite entertaining.
“Gotcha, Garmadork.” Chad grinned, having snagged him by the hood. “Where do you think you're going?”
Well, he'd been planning to climb up a tree and hide among the leaves until homeroom, Lloyd thought faintly. If he must know.
But he didn't think Chad was really that interested in hearing about his previous engagements.
So he kept his mouth shut. He shrugged.
“Dumb blonde,” Chad muttered, before dragging him back to the group.
They seemed happy enough to see him.
(If by “happy,” one meant “slightly bloodthirsty,” with soon-to-be-satisfied sneers in lieu of smiles.)
Lloyd's heart thumped, dull and heavy, against his ribs.
Woohoo, he thought, without very much enthusiasm.
“Hey guys. H-how's it going.” His voice was about as flat as crumpled paper.
“Don't 'H-how's it going’ us,” one of them scoffed, mimicking him. “Your dad just smashed my dad's recording studio!”
“And my cousin's house!”
“And the surf shop I was gonna work at this summer!”
They were closing in. Lloyd shrank back.
“Sorry,” he said, twisting his fingers into knots.
He really was. He didn't want people's homes and businesses to be destroyed.
But there wasn't much he could do about it.
(Not yet, anyway. Uncle Wu said he was still too young to fight.)
“Oh, please.” The first guy scowled. “Don't even bother. Since when does a little demon spawn like you have any feelings?”
He shoved Lloyd square in the ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him stumbling back into the wall.
“Oof.” Lloyd grimaced and heaved for breath. “Guys, this isn't gonna fix—”
“Shut up, Lloyd! I bet you're not even human.”
Another blow found its way to his gut. Lloyd gasped again. His stomach churned.
“Guys, I can't—Ooh.” Nausea washed over him. Somebody smacked him in the face.
I think I'm gonna throw up… Lloyd thought faintly, his throat tightening.
“Freaky eyes, freaky teeth, what else you got?” someone demanded. Lloyd wasn't sure which.
His legs suddenly weren't holding him up any more, and he landed hard on the ground with a hiss. Gritty pavement bit his palms.
“Oh, do you purr, too?” the voice mocked. (He did, as a matter of fact. Just not right now.) “What else are you hiding? A tail? Horns?”
Something grabbed his head and searched roughly through his hair. “Hey, I think I found something!” Chad exclaimed. “There's a pretty big bump right here.” He poked at a sore spot on Lloyd's skull.
“That's not… Ugh,” Lloyd groaned. “That's juss… I hit my head.”
They should remember. It was only a day or two ago.
“That's what they all say,” Chad retorted, continuing to prod at the lump. The others leaned in closer.
Lloyd's nausea intensified with the pain. He retched.
“Excuse me, but what is going on here?” A strange, polite voice interrupted the proceedings.
Who's that…? Lloyd wondered.
Another spectator for his humiliation? How lovely…
“Mind your own business, weirdo,” Chad sneered.
“I'm afraid this is my business. You appear to be committing assault and battery of a minor.” The voice, though still light, had taken on a hardened, ice-cold edge.
Oh great, now I'm in trouble…
“He's not a minor,” Chad scoffed, though less confidently than before. “He's a freakish little demon spawn. Lloyd Garmadon, son of the evil Lord Garmadon—ring any bells?”
“That is irrelevant,” the voice answered firmly. “Please step aside from the victim.”
They hesitated.
“Immediately.”
Lloyd felt the air whoosh around him as they left, muttering “Freaks” beneath their breath. Chad shoved down on his head as he stood up. He was going to tip over.
He didn't. The voice had arms, and they caught him. They felt strange. Cold.
“...Lloyd?! Are you all right?” The voice asked in concern.
With effort, Lloyd's abnormally green eyes fluttered open—when had they closed?—and met a pair of icy blue ones. They were kind and softly glowing, with intricate patterns in the irises that reminded him of… circuitry? Something like that? He wasn't sure.
“Wh—Who?” he breathed. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
What just happened?
“Wh-why—Oh.” Lloyd's eyes widened suddenly. His stomach lurched. “I… I think I'm… Urghh… I, I think ‘m gonna throw u—”
He didn't get to finish.
The stranger didn't say anything at first. He just tilted Lloyd forward so as not to get it on his clothes, and patiently held back his hair while he vomited onto the pavement.
When he'd finally emptied the contents of his stomach, and just sat there breathing heavily, grimacing at the taste of bile in his throat, the stranger answered his questions.
“My name is Zane Julian,” he stated simply, pulling a tissue out of his pocket. “And I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves.” He handed it to Lloyd.
“B…built?” Lloyd frowned. He stared at the tissue.
“Er, born,” Zane hurriedly corrected himself. “I am a normal human teenager.”
“O…OK,” Lloyd said. He'd shrug, but he didn't really have the energy at the moment. He wiped his mouth.
He didn't care what Zane was, honestly. He was kind. That was good enough for him.
Zane took away the soiled tissue and handed him a plastic water bottle. “Here. You should rinse out your mouth, so the acid does not erode your enamel.”
Lloyd hesitated to take a drink from a stranger—well, he’d hesitate to take a drink from the vast majority of people he knew, to be honest—but the seal was unbroken. It was probably safe.
He tried twisting the cap. Nothing happened. “Uhh…” He gave it back to Zane, embarrassed. “Can't open,” he mumbled. His hands were too weak, and there was still grit stuck in his palms.
“Oh! Of course.” Zane unscrewed the cap and returned the bottle. “There you are.”
“Thanks.” Gratefully, Lloyd took a sip and swished it around in his mouth. Then he paused, cheeks bulging, not quite sure what to do with it. Swallow? Spit it out?
“I don’t think it will make much of a difference,” Zane advised, glancing at the pile of nasty on the pavement. Lloyd silently agreed, and spat it out. He looked down at the rest of the water.
“Keep the bottle. You will need to rehydrate later. Small sips, take it slow. Do you need to see the nurse?”
Zane sounded a lot like his mom. Except he'd never let her see him like this.
“Uh… no, I think I'm… I'm good,” he said, putting on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
(The nurse didn't particularly like to see him either.)
“Hmm.” Zane stared at him for a moment longer. His strange eyes seemed to flicker. “I suppose your injuries are minimal enough. And I believe you are…used to this?”
There was an odd, upset tone of disapproval layered over that last statement.
It wasn't normal.
Lloyd frowned.
“...You're kind of weird, you know.”
“So are you.” Zane didn't blink or skip a beat. “Perhaps we should stick together?”
He sounded hopeful. He held out a hand.
Hesitantly, Lloyd took it. The cold soothed his scraped palm.
“...Perhaps,” he admitted.
Zane smiled.
He lifted the both of them to their feet.
The next time Lloyd's bus came early, there was someone waiting for him when he stepped off.
Someone who was most definitely not a cheerleader.
He didn't mind mornings so much after that.