Chapter 1
(W/Y/L) - Where you live (B/F/N) - Best friends name (Y/F/S) - Your favorite song (F/TV/S) - Favorite TV show (F/S/F) - Favorite snack food
Bold - You Bold and Italic - Friend Trigger Warning: Minor Language
It was a normal day in (W/Y/L). You were at school, staring at the clock, each tick of the second hand an agonizing reminder of the minutes crawling by. The dismal bell loomed, promising release, but also the weight of another day endured. This was it. The last day of school. The last day of eighth grade. The last day of middle school.
‘Five more minutes, (Y/N). You can do this,’ you muttered under your breath, willing time to speed up.
Your gaze drifted back to the board. The teacher droned on about high school requirements, summer programs—a pointless monologue to a room full of ghosts. Honestly, it felt like a cruel joke. The entire class was either asleep, whispering to neighbors, or actively ignoring her. More than half the kids weren’t even in the right seats. It was a silent rebellion, a collective disinterest that mirrored your own.
After what felt like an eternity, the bell finally ripped through the silence. A wave of relief washed over you as you, along with everyone else, surged out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher’s exasperated protests. You kept walking, heading towards your locker, grabbed your bag and walked out. Just as you reached school grounds, someone shoved you hard enough to send you tumbling to your knees. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”
You rolled your eyes, already anticipating the culprit. Getting up, you kept walking. Knowing exactly who shoved you. You were about to pull out your phone and put in your headphones when someone grabbed your arm. “Not going to apologize?”
You turned, looking up at the person holding you. “Am I supposed to, Ryker?” you snarled, yanking your arm out of his grip.
Standing before you was Ryker Johnson, surrounded by his usual pack. The bullies of Northwood High. They’d insult anything with two legs, including the teachers. They were experts at inflicting pain and expertly skilled at getting under your skin. Thankfully, you’d learned to navigate these encounters, to anticipate their moves and shut them down.
“Yeah, you’re supposed to apologize. Especially to someone more superior to you.”
“Okay then, where’s the more ‘superior’ person? Because I don’t see anyone besides a bunch of fucking idiots. And if your pea-sized brain is too dumb to comprehend that, I’m just gonna say it straight out. I’m talking about you and your friends.”
He growled, and you knew you’d hit a nerve. Without warning, he swung at you. You dodged, and quickly swept his legs out from under him. He landed hard on his back, looking up at his friends with a furious glare. “Get her!”
You sighed, bracing yourself. Three of them ran at you at once. ‘Let’s end this quickly,’ you thought, getting into a fighting stance.
The first one lunged, fist raised. You grabbed his wrist, and kicked him in the gut, sending him crashing into the second attacker. The third guy tried a kick, and you grabbed his foot, pulling him forward and forcing him to lose his balance. He stumbled and fell, landing in front of you. You turned to the fourth, and last, attacker. You got into a fighting stance, and so did he. ‘So this guy has experience, this should be fun.’
He ran at you, and you sighed, shaking your head. ‘Rookie mistake.’ He swung, and you caught his fist, stopping the momentum. He smirked, and swung his other fist, going for an uppercut. You grabbed his fist again with your other hand. You pushed him away and were about to make your move when you felt something grab your foot. Before you could react, you were pulled to the ground. You hit the ground hard, your forehead throbbing. You grimaced as you sat up, only to be brought back down. You opened your eyes to see two of Ryker’s buddies pinning your wrists down, the others holding your ankles.
You looked up to see Ryker towering over you, straddling you and raising his fist. When his fist made contact with your face, you knew you were bleeding. He punched you again, this time into your nose. Warm blood ran down your face. He punched you again, this time into your eye. You felt it swell, and a surge of rage finally snapped.
Ryker raised his fist again, inches from your face. You snapped your right hand and his fist stopped. So did everything else. You could’ve frozen everything, but that took too much energy. You removed your hands from the now frozen boys. You punched them both in the face and pushed Ryker off you. You kicked the boys who were holding your ankles, and then looked and froze Ryker. You smirked and stomped on his face. You snapped with your other hand and a rope appeared. You used it to tie the boys together.
You smiled at your work, then an idea struck. You snapped with your left hand again and a black sharpie appeared in your hand. You drew all over the boys faces. Once you were done, you smiled at your masterpiece. You pulled out your phone and took a picture. You looked back towards the boys and waved your hands in front of their eyes. Taking away the memory of this incident. You snapped your fingers again and started walking away. Completely ignoring the screams of confusion.
You looked back at the picture and sent it to your best friend, (Y/B/F/N). The only other person who knew about your powers other than your family.
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I hope they learn their lesson????
Woah! I knew you were cruel but this is a whole new level!
You smiled and took a selfie with your bloody nose, black eye, and cut lip.
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Shut up! Besides, it was only payback????♀️
???? OMFG! R U OK???!!!
I'm fine! I'll heal myself when I get home
You better! You look really bad
Have you looked in the mirror lately? lol
Shut up asshole ????
Love u 2???? ????
I gtg, plz make sure u heal urself and clean that dried blood
I will! stop being a mom
TTYL
C ya
You turned off your phone and plugged in your headphones. You pressed play, and (Y/F/S) started playing. By the time the song was done, you were home.
When you opened the door, the house was empty, as usual. Your parents weren’t home until around ten, your little sister was at a sleepover, and your older brother, sixteen and licensed, was likely at an end-of-year party and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. It was just you. ‘Typical.’
You sighed and kicked off your shoes, heading upstairs to clean up your face. When you got to your bathroom, you cringed at your reflection. You washed the dried blood off your face with a rag, then looked in the mirror again. You looked better, but your now black eye and cut lip still stung. You took a deep breath and covered your face. When you removed your hands you looked normal. Sure, there was still a scar from your busted lip and your eye was still a bit puffy but you couldn't tell unless you really looked.
You smiled a bit and walked to your room, changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, grabbed your laptop and your secret stash of (F/S) and opened Netflix, resuming your binge-watch of (F/TV/S) until you passed out.