“It’s a lie,” I told him.

The old man ignored me.  He looked at Brian, “I thought you’d be on the other girl’s side, not sure I would’ve let you past if I knew it was any different.”

For fuck’s sake.

Why had he come to that conclusion?  Because Brian and Sophia were both black?  I didn’t like that assumption, that I was automatically the bad guy, here.

Ahh, right. The shopkeep was black too.

Ugh, I don’t know how to put what seems to be going on here without sounding like a douche…

It’s racism. I do not want to debate whether “reverse racism” is a thing or not, but the black shopkeep appears to be prejudiced against Taylor because she’s white and in favor of Brian and Sophia because they’re black. If that isn’t racism, then I don’t know what is.

(I’ll say this much – it’s a matter of semantics. Usually one side of that debate is talking about systemic racism whereas the other is talking about personal racism, but people don’t always keep in mind that there’s a difference.)

“No,” was Brian’s curt reply.  “My friend is right.  That girl attacked her.”

Sophia backed away another few small steps, behind the old man.  When Brian moved forward, the old man got in his way, angry.  “Hey now, I’m not going to have any more fighting in my bookstore.”

Of course. When the person you’ve assumed is the “good guy” is on the defensive, you don’t want any more fighting.

Sophia saw her chance and ran.  I raised my hand, as if I could somehow reach out and stop her, then dropped it.

Oh well.

“My ear hurts like hell, and I don’t even know what she did to the side of my face, but I’m alive.”

“Good.”

Sophia bolted, and there were only two ways to go – through me, or past Brian.

Well, I think it’s pretty obvious which way she’d pick.

She chose the easy road, dashing toward me, and I lunged for her, aiming to grab her, slow her down enough for Brian to step in.

Except she was faster than I’d anticipated, proving her position on the track team wasn’t just for show, and even my last-ditch effort at grabbing her wrist fell short.

The leopard can run at up to 58 kilometers per hour. This black panther is outta here.

Brian and I gave chase, and were stopped when the guy from the front counter emerged and stepped partway between us and Sophia.

Seriously, dude. Not helping.

“What’s this?” he looked between us.  Behind him, Sophia turned to face us, assessed the situation and then backed up a few steps with the old man’s back was turned to her.

“She attacked me,” I said.

To be fair, usually the person running away isn’t the attacker, unless they took something.

“Looks that way, sure, but the girl said it was justified, that you stole something from her on the bus.

Seriously, dude?

Asked me to stay at the counter and turn up the volume on my show while she got it back.”

And here I thought you weren’t the trusting type – turns out you’re straight up gullible, and also quite irresponsible.

If that was how it turned out, I was okay with that.

“Enough,” the male voice cut in.

Sophia halted in her advance.  She turned an impassive expression to Brian, who stood to her left.  He set plastic bags of food on the ground as she watched.  “The boyfriend.”

Eyy, backup!

Brian looked at me, and there was a touch of concern in the expression.

I turned my attention back to her.  “Meet Sophia.  One of the girls that’s been giving me a hard time at school.”

“Oh hi, Brian. How are you? This is Sophia, she’s against me.”

The look of concern disappeared from his face in an instant.  It was replaced by anger.

“She’s lying,” Sophia told him, without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Too late, Sophia. Brian trusts Taylor.

“She cheated off me for a test, and got us both suspended and-”

“Shut up,” Brian’s voice was low, not much different from his normal speech, but Sophia got the message.  She closed her mouth.  He turned to me, “Are you okay?”

Voice manipulator or no voice manipulator, Brian knows how to make people listen to him.

Brian was supposed to meet Taylor here. If she holds out, there’s a chance she’ll receive backup.

I do think she can win this without him, though. She beat Rachel!

She started toward me, and I had a good sense of how this would go.  She was my height, but she was a [sic] stronger than me, with more room for muscle on her frame.  Not that she was fat, or heavy in any way, but her physique was athletic, slender, and mine was that of a scarecrow – just plain thin.

I guess she does have an advantage here, but didn’t Rachel have a physical advantage too?

There was also the broader context – I was already hurting, and she was fucking psycho.  If it came down to it, I suspected I’d get the worst of it in the fight, unless I either found a way to get to my weapons in my bag or used my powers.  That didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to do some damage to her in the meantime, it just meant she’d kick my ass in the process.

Not a particularly positive prognosis, perhaps.

“FYI, it was Emma’s dad who called the meeting at the school, not me,” I replied without anger in my voice.

Good point. Taylor didn’t go crying to the people in charge at all.

I was sobered by the sight of my own blood.  Odd as it sounded, I felt more comfortable with the situation.  I’d dealt with more serious fights, and I felt like I could handle this better, having seen the blood, knowing the ante was higher.

“You still told someone.”

That would be her dad, I suppose.

“So what if I did?  What did you expect, that I’d keep my mouth shut, put up with it?”

“That’s exactly what I expected.  It seems you didn’t get my point about knowing your place.”  Her eyes flickered to the spot where she’d just held me down.  “Maybe you’ll get the message after round two.”

r o u n d   t w o

f i g h t

My ear throbbed.  I put my hand up to tenderly touch the base of it, and pulled away when I felt a bitter stinging pain in response.  My fingertips were red with blood when I lowered them.

“Oh, I must’ve fallen ear first on a rock with some raspberries hanging over it.”

…

Okay, that won’t be as funny to you guys as it is to me unless I tell you a little anecdote from my life.

When I was in second grade, I had a friend I liked to play with. Next to her house, there was a forest filled with raspberry bushes, where we sometimes went to play in the trees. In particular, there was this one spot where a tree had fallen, lying over the ditch of what must’ve been a small stream of water at some point. Naturally, climbing on this tree was something we liked to do.

But one day, I was wearing boots after it had rained. Yeeah, bad idea. I soon went headfirst into the ditch, and in a case of oddly bad luck, landed right on the sharp corner of a motorcycle gas tank or something like that, that had been lying unnoticed in that ditch for some reason. As you might expect, my head didn’t like that and opened up a bit.

Getting up from the fall, I put my hand to my now slightly hurting head, and when I took it back down, it was covered in a bit of red. But I was seven or so and had just taken a hit to my head, so my first thought wasn’t “this is blood, I’m bleeding from my head”, but rather:

“I guess I must’ve fallen on a rock lying under some raspberries.”

Fortunately my friend was a little smarter than me and got me to come with her back to her parents. I went to the doctor and got seven stitches, and since then my head has only had the holes it’s supposed to have. 🙂

Sophia gave me a look of pure loathing, “You’re a coward, Hebert.  A rat.  You know you’re a nerd, you’re flat chested, scrawny.  Nobody likes you, nobody wants you for a friend, you’re not good at anything.  So you run, you hide, skip school, stay quiet, don’t do anything with your waste of a life.  And if things get tough, if anyone decides to have a little fun at your expense, you go crying to the people in charge, because you can’t take it.”

Geez.

You really don’t know Taylor at all.

She let go of my ear and tapped hard against the lens of my glasses as she continued, “This is your reminder that everyone has their place in life, Hebert, and you should stick to yours.  Trying to act better than you are only embarrasses you and irritates me, get it?”

Yeah, fuck you, Sophia, okay?

She yanked on my ear again, as if to make her point clear.

“Nod if you understand, and I’ll let you run off home.”

I glared up at her.

Taylor is so done with this shit these days.

My fingertips traced against the books on the bottom shelf until I found the hardcovers.  I got hold of one, pulled it free, and in the same motion, drove one of the corners of the text into Sophia’s side.

Please give her a papercut, please give her a papercut…

…am I evil for wishing that on someone?

She fell over, and I flipped onto my back to swing again, switching to a two-handed grip to add more power to the swing.  The time it had taken me to get into position for another swing, however, bought Sophia time to get out of the way.  I had Brian’s tips on fighting in mind, keeping on the offensive, and the only way to do that was to fling the hardcovered reference book at her head.  She used her arms to knock it out of the air, then winced, rubbing her arm.

This is Taylor’s chance to show what she’s learned.

Also seriously, the shopkeep really can’t be paying attention. It’s that or this shop is ten times bigger than I thought.

“What the fuck is your derangement?!” I shouted at her.  “In what twisted perspective is it all right to stalk and attack someone because they kissed a boy?”

“derangement” is a good word.

“It’s not just that,” Sophia started toward me, then stopped when I let my backpack fall to the ground and straightened, ready for another confrontation.  “You got me fucking suspended.  I don’t care about missing class, but I’m off the track team until further notice.  And it’s all because you ran off to whimper for the grown-ups.  I need that shit.”

Oh coddammit this is exactly what Taylor was trying to avoid.

“Boo fucking hoo.  If I knew it mattered that much to you, I’d have written a letter to your coach days ago, just to drive the point home and make sure you never got back on the team.”

I mean, getting them suspended on a short term basis that doesn’t do jack shit to keep them from taking revenge. That’s what’s happening here – that revenge.

But yeah, Sophia deserves what she got and more.

With both hands, using her grip on my ear and jaw, she lifted my head up and plunged it down hard against the pile of books beneath me.  It wasn’t the worst hit I’d ever taken, but it still left me reeling.

I couldn’t afford to take too many hits to my head.  Though my concussion was more or less healed, I’d be susceptible to a relapse of symptoms and future concussions for a while yet.  I just had to use my bugs to get her off me, buy myself time to get my knife and baton and…

Are you sure pulling out a knife in a mall is a good idea, even if you’re out of sight from most of it? Also, the bugs should be enough, unless she’s secretly a parahuman too. You’re not going for the kill, I’d imagine. Or rather, you won’t be, once you think a bit more about what you just told yourself.

…and then I’d be fucked.  I’d do more damage to myself in the long run, outing myself as the girl with the bug powers.  I’d never be able to go home to my dad.

Exactly.

Sophia let go of my cheek to cover my mouth with her hand.  Using this fresh hold, she wrenched my head as far to the right as it would go, so I could see her looming over me, her hair hanging down around her face.  She looked like a panther, black-skinned, savage, teeth bared just a little as she panted.

Fitting, considering black panthers are simply black specimens of three other feline species

(which can also be collectively referred to as panthers, without the “black” modifier), one of which is the leopard, the quick runner.

She wrenched my ear again, changing the direction again, and I cried out.  If she went any further, I was positive the skin would tear and the ear would come off entirely.  I struggled, but the books slid beneath my hands and knees, giving me minimal traction.

So, uh, shopkeep? Are you not hearing this fight taking place in your shop?

“And I hate losing the most when it’s to a depressing queef like you,”

That’s, uh, quite the insult you went for there.

she rocked her right hand back and forth against my cheek, as if she wanted to drive her fingernails through the skin.  Her thumbnail bit into the underside of my jaw.

Geez, this girl is pissed.

I really wish the shopkeep had seen this, so there could be a witness, so Taylor could turn the game around and charge Sophia for assault.

I have bugs inside my jeans and backpack.  I can end this.

And now Taylor is forced to make a decision. So far, she’s held back on using her power against the Harpies, but in this situation, does she have a choice? And it’s not like it would be a Carrie situation, either – this would be direct self defense.

Now, one issue is the risk of Sophia blabbing if Taylor isn’t careful with how she goes about this. She might be best off using only a few bugs, making it plausibly deniable.