Twist My Arm: Woke Up Tired

Got hit with writer's block so I wrote this; please enjoy! Burn The Ashes updates later tonight or tomorrow!

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[Woke Up Tired]

“It's kind of crazy that a school like this lets us just climb up here whenever.”

Wind whistled across the rooftop of Winslow High School, punctuating the statement. Leaned against an air conditioner, I briefly adjusted the cigarette in my mouth, not looking up from my notebook as I said, “That's 'cus everyone keeps breaking the lock off. Why'd they burn the money to buy more if kids are just gonna keep destroying them?”

I could practically feel Cody's sigh. “It just seems kind of irresponsible, doesn't it? With all the bullying going around, you'd think they'd cut off access to an easy way out, right?”

“You give them too much credit,” I said, dragging my pen across the lines of the graph paper in a perfectly straight line, adding to the stupidly intricate design covering most of the page. “We've got Nazis and Asian supremacists recruiting in the cafeteria, dude. Someone called me a slur while I was eating a chicken sandwich yesterday.”

I glanced up through dark lashes as Cody made a face at that, nose scrunching up. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his long arms around them. Big for his age, and still somehow managed to look like a folded-up lawn chair.

“Fair.” He sagged, long blonde hair falling in waves around his face. “Speaking of bullying, how's your cousin.”

“Same as ever,” I said as I returned to my drawing. This page was quickly becoming more ink than paper. I wondered if I was making this one too complicated but didn't stop. In for a penny and all that. “Still hates me, wishes I wasn't around to interrupt her moping, the usual.”

“Ah.” Not a stranger to messed up family dynamics, Cody gave me a commiserating look. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is.”

The silence that followed lasted maybe fifteen seconds before the door to the roof suddenly slammed open hard enough to rattle on its hinges. My pen stopped dead, not moving an inch as I looked up and into the smiling face of my second favorite person in this messed up world.

Harry's hands were shoved in his pockets, one foot raised from where he kicked the door. His sun-kissed expression was cheery as he smirked and said, “What's up, queers.”

“And the class act has arrived,” Cody muttered, but there was a small grin on his face as the last member of our trio strode onto the roof. Harry's grin widened, all teeth and zero shame. He dropped down beside me, close enough that our shoulders bumped, and leaned over to peer at my notebook. I tilted it away from him out of habit, but he saw it anyway.

“Damn, what's that one do?”

“Dunno yet,” I said, which was half-true. I had a vague idea, but the shape of it kept shifting the more I worked. “Just killing time.”

“You're always killing time.” Harry leaned back on his palms. “One day you're gonna run out of time to kill and then what?”

“Then I'll kill your time,” I returned. “Since you clearly don't use it for anything useful.”

Cody snorted. Harry pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I am deeply useful. I am a font of... eh, whatever. Give me a cigarette,” he said, switching tracks so fast it nearly gave me whiplash. The hand on his chest dropped and the other extended toward me, fingers waggling in that obnoxious way he always did when he wanted something.

I stared at him and he stared back with a grin.

“You need to start bringing your own,” I said, but reached into my pocket anyway, grabbing the half-crumpled, mostly empty pack of Camels and pulling one out.

Harry snatched it the moment he could, his fingers slipping it out of my hand so softly I barely even noticed the pressure. He popped it into his mouth, and then held out another hand. “Light?”

In response, I dragged on my own cig and then pulled it out of my mouth, holding it up to his. The end smoldered and Harry inhaled, sending the embers racing toward the filter, keeping the end burning even as I pulled it away.

“Coulda just leaned over,” he noted as I put my cig back in my mouth.

“That's gay,” I responded automatically, and he responded by blowing smoke into my face, making me wince. Cody snorted beside him, shaking his head.

“You two are disgusting,” he said, scrunching his face as the smell of burning tobacco doubled. “Just date already.”

“Absolutely not,” I replied, glancing his way. “I thought you of all people would support my right to remain single and miserable.”

Cody rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of his head. “I think you'd be miserable regardless. Being single has nothing to do with it.”

I let out a short bark at that, the laugh sending smoke out of my nose. Cody's nose wrinkled again and he waved a hand in front of his face. “Harry, you should close the door. If someone comes up here—”

“Nobody ever comes up here unless they're here to fuck around. We're fine.”

“Still,” Cody insisted. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled off one of his beat-up Converses. I leaned away from him as he chucked it towards the door, clearly intending to close it that way. Unfortunately, he seemed to lose any ability to aim for shit because it sailed wide by a solid two feet, bouncing off a nearby AC unit with a metallic clang.

I stared at it, then turned to him, one dark brow raised. “Really?”

“I'm tired; fuck off,” he muttered, climbing to his feet. I knew without a doubt that he could have made that shot without even trying, but didn't say anything, watching him go.

Harry shuffled across the roof, one-shoed and grumbling, scooping up his Converse and jamming his foot back into it. He didn't close the door. Of course he didn't. He just turned around and started walking back, leaving it wide open behind him.

“Nice,” I said.

“I try.” He dropped back down next to me, shoulder bumping mine again as he settled in. I scooted over half an inch. He scooted closer by two. I gave up.

Cody sighed, but didn't press the issue of our privacy. He glanced up, brushing hair out of his face. “Hey, Alex?”

“Hm?” I tapped my pen against the notebook, staring at my drawing, trying to figure out where I wanted to go from here.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Sleeping,” I said. “Maybe I'll catch a nap when I'm not doing that. Haven't decided yet.”

“Seriously though,” Cody pressed, and something in his voice made me actually look up from my notebook. He was picking at a loose thread on his jeans, not meeting my eyes. “My brother's been on my case again.”

“Ah,” I said, getting the meaning. Cody's brother was practically a walking stereotype for E88 meatheads. He was big, obnoxious, with a buzzcut that was basically a neon sign reading "I vote for Kaiser". And he'd been trying to get his little brother to join up for a while now.

His closeted gay little brother. Yeah, if there was a family dynamic more fucked up than mine, it was Cody's.

“Need me to be your beard again?” I asked. Cody's family tended to give him less shit when I came around. Seeing their son with a girl like me would usually give most parents a heart attack, but Cody's were more concerned about his vaguely feminine behavior than a “bad influence”.

Cody smiled gratefully. “If you can. I don't want to make a big deal out of it.”

“I can probably find some time,” I said, which was pretty much a definite yes when it came to my friends. Cody heard it and his shoulders dropped about an inch with relief.

“You're a lifesaver.”

I just nodded, glancing up as footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Harry followed my gaze and his easy grin dropped just a fraction. “Busted.”

“Nah, we're fine,” I said, recognizing the careful footsteps. They were the same ones I heard all the time at home.

A face dipped into the light as Taylor stepped through the doorway and onto the rooftop. The wind chose that exact moment to kick up, sending her dark curls whipping across her face, causing her to swat them away with a raw knuckle and a frown that only grew deeper as she saw me and the cigarette in my mouth.

“You're not supposed to be smoking,” she said, her voice heavy with disapproval.

I rolled my eyes and took one last drag before pinching the embers out with my fingers. It stung, but only for a second. I flicked the dead butt away, letting it skitter across the rooftop.

“What do you need, Tay?”

She opened her mouth, probably to say something about lung health or rules in the house, but then she stopped. Her jaw worked for a second before she let out a breath.

“I'm getting out early,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Except she didn't shift it evenly. She favored her right leg, barely putting any pressure on the left, and it was abundantly clear from the way she stood that she was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't doing exactly that.

I frowned. “You limping?”

Taylor's expression tightened, that muscle in her jaw jumping again—the one that always did when she was clenching her teeth. “I'm fine.”

“Did Sophia do something?”

I didn't hide my dislike for the girl as I spoke her name. Taylor's minute flinch was well-hidden, but I saw it regardless and knew for certain I was right.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Taylor said, and I bit back a sigh. This shit again. “Can you give me a ride home or not?”

I held her gaze for a moment, and she held it right back, jaw set and stubborn. Beside me, Harry was very carefully not saying anything, which was probably the most restraint he'd ever shown. Cody picked at his jeans.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, shaking my head. “Grab your stuff. I'll meet you out front.”

Taylor nodded shortly and disappeared back through the door. Her footsteps retreated down the stairwell, uneven and staggered. I forced the frown off my face before it could fully form, knowing there was nothing I could do. She didn't want my help, and even I couldn't out-stubborn Taylor Hebert.

I glanced down at my notebook. The glyph stared back at me—a complex little bastard that wasn't even close to finished, but was getting there. Reaching down, I ripped the page out, crumpling it into a ball.

I flipped to the next page and started drawing something else from scratch. This one was easier. A few quick strokes, a curve here, a line there, and it was done in under thirty seconds.

Harry watched me work, his chin practically resting on my shoulder. “You coming back after?” he asked.

“Nope.” I ripped the new page out as well, crumpling it around the first one. “Gonna take her home and probably just hang around. The next two blocks are all electives anyway.”

He nodded. “Then I guess I won't see you for a few days. I found a nice little place I want to take a look at. Gotta lay low after the deed is done, you know?”

I read between the lines easily enough and gave him a glance as I tossed the papers away. “Be careful, dude.”

“It'd be easier if you came along,” he said airily, though I knew the offer was serious. “Could use a lookout.”

“You know I'm not interested in that shit.”

He just shrugged, unconcerned. “Worth a shot.”

Beside us, Cody shifted, looking between the two of us. He'd known for a while now, same as I had. But he didn't say anything, just pulled his knees tighter to his chest and watched the crumpled ball of paper on the ground. I glanced at it, and my power swelled in the back of my mind.

The glyph activated a second later. An atom shifted here and there, changing the very nature of the paper it was written on, and the whole thing burst into flames. Fire crawled across the crumpled sheet, cooking it to cinders without letting out a single puff of smoke. A moment later, only ashes remained, just the same as the ones from the cigarette I just put out.

“I'll see you guys later,” I called, stuffing my notebook into my bag and shouldering it. I glanced at Harry who had leaned back onto the AC unit, his eyes drifting shut. “Call me when you're done.”

“Yes, mom,” he jeered, one eye open in a wink. I flipped him off in return.

Taylor was already in my truck by the time I got to the parking lot, sitting in the passenger seat and staring out the perpetually open window. I climbed in, tossing my bag behind the seats. Then the engine choked to life and we were off.

The radio was doing its best to fill the silence, some pop song I didn't recognize dribbling out of the single working speaker in a tinny, half-hearted warble. I kept the window down, letting the breeze do more of the heavy lifting. It carried with it the quintessential Brockton Bay fragrance, eau de despair. Rust, salt, and the faint hint of garbage.

Taylor didn't say a word during the drive. She sat with her hands in her lap, staring off into space. I glanced at her every now and again, watching the way she shifted every few seconds to relieve her left leg and wondering what happened. Had they hit her or pushed her down the stairs or something? That was more physical than the shit they usually pulled, but I wouldn't put it past them.

My truck rattled over a pothole and I rubbed the wheel. “Easy, girl.”

Taylor gave me a weird look but said nothing as we continued down the beat-up road.

The truck was my mom's—or rather, Elexis's mom's, which made it my mom's by technicality. It was a beater, through and through. It coughed when it started, shuddered at red lights, and the AC hadn't worked since forever, but it ran, so I drove it. I wasn't picky, not that I could even afford to be.

Everything I had was hers, technically. Elexis Hebert. The girl whose life I'd slipped into without anyone having a clue, or at least I hoped. I still remembered the day I woke up in that bed in the hospital after an unfortunate run-in with good 'ol Truck-kun. Or Jeep Wrangler-kun, I guess. It sure as hell hurt like a truck.

Elexis probably would have thought so too, given how she went out. A fractured skull, broken arm, some bruised ribs, the usual hit-by-a-car special. Elexis's mom was in much worse shape since the impact had been on her side. She died before the paramedics even showed up.

I didn't remember any of it, of course. It didn't happen to me, after all. I just remembered the moments before, back when I was in a world that made sense, pulling my roommate out of the road and falling into it like a dipshit. There was a bright light and then I was here, with none other than Danny-freaking-Hebert sobbing his eyes out and hugging me like I was his dead sister instead of the woman in the morgue.

I'd like to say I handled it well. Amnesia was a hell of an excuse when brain swelling was involved. Uncle Danny bought it. So did the doctors and the police that dropped by afterward. I made it through the questioning and the exams and the crying, and then I was brought home. Back to Danny's house.

Needless to say, Little Miss Escalation wasn't thrilled having a stranger three years her senior suddenly show up and start living with her. I'd expected awkwardness, maybe a bit of coldness, but she was downright hostile from the start and I was still coming to terms with everything, so we sorta missed the whole friend-making phase.

They say never meet your heroes, and while I wouldn't call Taylor my idol or anything, it still sorta sucked to have her look at me like that. Then again, I didn't really expect anything different. We may have been related by blood, but we weren't really family.

It was fine. I was almost eighteen and by then, I'd be out of their hair. Brockton Bay was in for a rough time pretty damn soon, and I had neither the power nor the nuts to stop it.

The truck lurched as I took a left onto the street where the house sat, that same familiar pothole catching the front tire for the thousandth time. Taylor shifted beside me, and I caught her pressing her palm hard against her thigh as if to drive away the ache. I wanted to say something, but she was so damn prickly about everything that every time I opened my mouth, it felt like I just made things worse.

Silence reigned as I pulled into the drive and killed the engine. Taylor was out of the car before I'd even pulled the keys out of the ignition, and I watched as she limped up the stairs and slipped into the house. I waited a minute before following after her, letting her get up to her room before I even stepped in the front door.

The house was quiet when I stepped inside. Danny wouldn't be home for another few hours and Taylor was probably working on her costume or something upstairs. I stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to the settling creaks of the old house, then kicked off my shoes and made for my room in the basement.

Once upon a time, the basement would have been a cluttered mess full of considerably more creepy crawlies than usual thanks to Taylor using it as a makeshift workshop when her dad wasn't around. With me in the picture, the whole space had been emptied out via a yard sale, with the more sentimental stuff being kept by the stairs, leaving me just enough space for a twin mattress, a dresser, and a small wardrobe. A single lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, the only light in the room except for a very thin ten-minute sliver at around eight-thirty when the sun was at just the right angle.

Danny had tried to make it nice when I moved in—there was a poster of some band Elexis apparently liked, a wall shelf with books right above my head, and even a rug on the floor so my feet weren't constantly touching bare concrete. It wasn't much, but I appreciated his effort, really.

I dropped my bag on the floor, pulled out my notebook, and flopped onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling, watching a spider make its way across a crack that had been there since before I arrived.

Hey there, Taylor, I thought wryly, watching as the arachnid skittered into a crack. Heh. Skitter. It really was an awful name, wasn't it? Before Taylor made it her own. I wondered briefly what my name would be, before putting the thought aside just as quickly.

Truthfully, I had no interest in being a cape. Back when I read Worm and all the stories and experiences that spawned from it, I'd thought about what I'd do with powers. Hero, villain, rogue, general menace; what you did with your godly parasite-given abilities was half the fun. You get powers, you go out, and you either win or get your shit pushed in. Simple as.

Then I actually got powers and realized that was insane.

This was Brockton Bay. Nazi capital of America where you couldn't spit without hitting some gangbanger who thought he was hot shit. The E88, ABB, fucking Coil. The whole city was one bad day from turning on its head. And I was supposed to go out there with my little drawings and do what, exactly? Fight the Hookwolf with a doodle on a sheet of paper?

No thank you. I was content to sit right here in my basement, screw around with my powers to appease the almighty Shard overlords, and wait out the clock until I turned eighteen and could get the hell out of Dodge. Canon would proceed without me. Taylor would go out, she'd become a hero, she'd do all the things she was supposed to do, and I would be far, far away when everything went to hell.

Or, you know, as far as I could be when Scion decided to flip his lid.

I flipped open my notebook and started drawing, listening to the cars pass by on the road outside as my pen glided across the paper in perfectly straight lines.

My power was kind of lame, if I was being honest. Or at least, in my opinion, needlessly complicated.

The short and sweet version of it was that I drew glyphs, and they did things. Simple enough on paper or whatever else I decided to draw on, at least until you read the fine print and realized that there were levels to it. Rules.

The biggest one, the one that had taken me the longest to figure out, was that my power couldn't create anything from scratch, it could only alter what was already there. If I wanted fire I had to figure out how to change the atoms in the air or whatever I was working on and literally alter their molecular structure until combustion was the natural result. I wanted to blow something up? Same deal: take what was already there and change it until it did what I wanted.

It was basically magic. With a pencil and a little bit of imagination, my doodles could reshape reality, one atom at a time. Kind of cool, but the work/result ratio was a bit whack in my opinion.

The glyphs themselves all began with the same design—a base template that my power had been kind enough to upload directly into my skull alongside the urge to go out and pick fights with people. Every glyph started from the same root structure, and from there, I could alter it and the effect would change accordingly.

Naturally, I spent half the time experimenting with what I could do, just screwing around on the page, new ideas and destinations forming with each line. So far, I hadn't found a limit to how much I could change at once or how, so that was pretty cool. If I had a big enough canvas to work with, maybe I could just straight up turn a building into cake or something.

“Diabetics beware my power,” I muttered as I put pen to paper, and felt the hours slip away.

I came back to myself just as darkness began to filter in through the basement window. I blinked, glancing towards the nightstand where a flip-phone was vibrating merrily. Danny and Taylor had a thing against phones but I grew up in a world where not having one was basically handicapping yourself and there was no way I was going back to the technological stone age as far as personal messaging was concerned.

The text was from Harry. The pic was grainy and dim but I could see just enough to make out a gloved hand holding a necklace. It was silver and sapphire. Pretty and probably expensive as hell, too.

I thumbed out a response. Nice one, klepto

He returned with a bunch of pixelated dollar signs.

I snorted, flopping back against my pillow and laying my phone on my lap. Footsteps thumped from above as I stared at the ceiling, watching as a spider worked on a web in the corner of the room. Was that the same one as before?

The phone buzzed again and I scooped it up, expecting another message from Harry, only to be surprised at the name that flashed on screen. It was Cody's. And my heart dropped as I read what he'd sent.

He found out. Help.

I was out of the house in ten seconds, and roaring down the road in twenty, my heartbeat in my chest and my notebook slung in my passenger seat.