Chapter One: The Day Fate Found ME

*Adrian Riley O'Connell*

I was ten years old the day I met her, and it’s still as surreal to me today as it was then.

Let me start off by saying I was….a bit of a “bubble boy”, my mom always kept me indoors for fear of allergies I had never even been tested for, and my IQ was...well, it was and still is rather impressive. And that is why it baffles me, baffles me that I would ever come into association with a girl like Gwendolyn Faire. But then, if there’s one theory that has been ever proved in my life, it would be that “life is always full of surprises”, and just like life- so is the lovely and perpetually confusing and rebellious Miss Gwendolyn Faire.

But yes, I was ten years old, and it was a Saturday in April, April the thirteenth to be exact. I can remember because it was the first day my mother had ever allowed me to go outside without her strict supervision. I was going to the park down the street, and honestly I think the only reason she agreed was because she wanted me out of her hair while she did a mess of paperwork and she didn’t want a repeat of ‘The kitchen slime volcano incident of ‘02’, which has left a permanent lime green stain on the ceiling, much to mother’s dismay. I don’t even think she realized she had said I could go outside- she just sort of nodded and that was that.

I trounced out of the house like I had just won a nobel prize. I had never been to the park before, but from what I heard from others my age it was supposed to be very fun. And when I saw it, it certainly did look like fun...I think. There were colorful death contraptions made of brightly colored plastic, and beside them there was a wheel with poles that kind of looked like a medieval torture wheel bolted to the ground….that’s fun, right? But one can’t live on smarts alone...I think. So I had decided to test my bravery and go down one of the brightly colored chute-like plastic contraptions. I cleaned off my thick glasses and wiped the sweat from my hands before I proceeded to climb the potentially lethal ladder. Mother would be impressed, I was sure, if I managed to prove my brawn by going down and surviving this entire endeavor. Of course, as I was thinking this- I heard her voice.

“You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” A young female voice commented from behind me, but heck if I was going to turn around and see who it was! I was like...forty feet up!

“I-I’m proving my bravery!” I snapped back, sweat trickling down from my temple.

“By going up a five foot ladder to go down a slide?” The voice did not sound impressed. At all. Well, too bad I didn’t really care what freaky condescending girl thought- it was a new challenge for me and that was that.

“It is a very difficult task, hoisting one’s own body weight!”

“You’re such a whimp. You’re only two inches off the ground.”

“J-Just go away!” I exclaimed in a very irritated fashion.

“Fine.” I could practically hear the boredom in her voice, and I could hear it as her footsteps faded away to who knows where.

It took five minutes of struggling, and huffing, and sounds that strongly resembled war cries, to reach the top of the incredibly high tower that absolutely could not have been only five feet high. I approached a chute that was a sickly shade of yellow, and I felt like I was going to throw up my own stomach.

“Br-Bravery…” I assured myself as I wiggled my rump into the worn groove allocated for it. I pushed myself off, and was rather surprised to find the thrill of actual excitement at such a pointless activity. I allowed myself a small breathless giggle- just before pain exploded on the right side of my head.

“What are you doing here? You look ready to go to the science fair, nerd.” I looked up, confused at my glasses being knocked askew and the now throbbing side of my head and jaw. A boy, he certainly looked older, but he was maybe two or three years older than me at most, and absolutely looking a lot bigger and a lot stronger, stood towering over me. He looked like one of those guys in the wrestling rings that mother would flip past quickly as she channel surfed. ‘Steriods’, I remember thinking immediately, ‘This kid is on steroids’. His mousy brown hair fell down in uncut locks, framing his boxed jaw and crooked grin that was missing one of its front teeth.

“I….I do not seek physical confrontation….I am simply enjoying the rush of adrenaline that comes from-”

“Oh shut up. You think you’re so smart. Bubble boy, You know- people don’t like you when you act all superior.” Well, he was certainly one to talk.

“I don’t understand-”

“This is my park, got it bub?”

“I-I was not aware one could own public property in such a manner-”

“Stop all that smart talk!” I barely had time to register the words before another agonizing blow came to my ribs. Now, I was a scrawny boy, and self defense….wasn’t really my strong suit. I was convinced I was going to die that day. In retrospect? That was probably an over exaggeration, but right then, I was absolutely certain.

I could vaguely hear the laughter of others as the punches and kicks just continued to go on and on. My face, my ribs, my legs, my stomach- anything they could hit. I’d like to say I didn’t cry- but lets face it, I cried. I cried like a baby who just got maced. Pain like I’d never felt before, I had never imagined so much pain in all my life. In fact, I had never imagined my superior intellect could make people hate me so….I had always thought it would work to my advantage. Well...we can see how wrong I was.

“Oh look- he’s gonna cry!” I opened my eye that wasn’t to the ground as much as I could, I could already feel it swelling up. My glasses were broken and had fallen off somewhere unknown to me. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of telling them I was already crying. Mostly because I didn’t want to give them a reason to hit me again. I didn’t believe in superheroes, I wasn’t some delinquent who enjoyed ‘comic books’, but right then I would have done anything to have some super-human come and rescue me.

I could hardly see from my partly swollen and bloody eye, and I had all but forgotten the mysterious girl whom I had spoken to briefly before- so you can imagine my surprise when a small, bony looking girl pounced onto steroid-guy’s with a feral shriek and the speed and strength of a puma.

There was a lot of screaming, and swearing, and sounds of somebody getting punched or kicked- I couldn’t really see much, my vision was incredibly blurry without my glasses, and the pain throughout my body made me just want to curl up into a little ball and die. After a while I could hear the sounds of retreating footsteps, but by then I had squeezed my eyes shut tight.

“You ok…?” It was the female voice from before. I opened my eyes and looked up, but all I could see was a blur of somewhat tan skin and dark-ish hair. It took me a few seconds to even realize she was holding a hand out to help me up.

“My glasses…” I wheezed as she hoisted me upright.

“They’re broken.” She said with an audible grimace. “But hang on, I can fix them.”

“You can….?” I was incredibly puzzled, was this girl some glasses-crafter-apprentice or something?

But she didn’t pull out any tools or anything. In fact, she just pulled a stick out of her hoodie pocket and pointed it to the two broken halves of my glasses.

“What are you, crazy?”

She completely ignored my comment. “Rewind.” She breathed, and a certain warmth filled the air, a warmth that made my hands go numb. It was like a command to the soul- but not mine….It was more like I was overhearing it. So then….whose soul was she trying to talk to? My glasses? Crazy. Absolutely crazy.

Then she handed me my glasses, and I really thought I had a concussion then.

Because….they were good as new. My glasses, which I had felt broken and she had even verbally admitted had been….were entirely flawless. Well, not entirely, there was still a nick on the left wing and a little scratch on the right lense from that time I tried to pet a...pretty moody goat at the petting zoo. But compared to how they were before, they were absolutely flawless! I very hesitantly put on my glasses, terrified they might bite my face off now….kind of like how that goat tried to.

“See? As good as they were seven minutes ago. Told you I could fix it.” She smiled, and I very vaguely noticed the slight movement of her hand as she tucked the stick back into her pocket. I blinked my eyes back into focus and tried to take in my surroundings.

She had wild hair, it would have been straight under normal circumstances- but in her struggle with my bully it had become tangled and frenzied, there were little grass and leave bits (and maybe even a twig) tangled in it, but she didn’t really seem to care. It was an auburn color- a soft brunette mixed with odd shades of blonde and red, a hodgepodge of colors that somehow blended just right. Then I saw her eyes, and I could see they were the widest and brightest green eyes I had ever seen in my life. Like sunlight filtering through new leaves in the summertime. She had teeth that must have been pretty sharp, because I can remember the bully’s screams as she sunk them into his shoulder (I know she bit him because he kept shouting “She’s biting me! She’s biting me! Will one of you get her off of me?!”). She had a kind of scruffy look, and I imagine she would look that way even if she hadn’t just come to my rescue. Her skin was a very light tan color, as though she had some Native American mixed into her blood line or something, she could easily have dismissed it though, and just claimed a slightly darker fair complexion, or that she spent a lot of time outside in the sun. She was bony, and this confused me, because I couldn’t see how a girl like her could fend off a guy on steroids. She wore a grey hoodie, now smeared with dirt and a few specks of blood, and some faded blue jeans and converse. Her face was kind of pretty, and would have been a lot prettier if there wasn’t blood running down her cheek from a large cut, or spots of dirt smudged on it, or a bruise forming on her angled jaw.

You see, I remember all of this, and noticed all of this- because somehow I knew this little girl would be increasingly important in my future. And this little girl, as deceiving as her looks may have been, had become the superhero I had dared to pray for. She had saved me when it seemed nobody could, or at least, that nobody cared.

“How did you do that?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“Do what? The glasses or the a*s whoopin’?” She asked with disinterest, picking the noticeable twig out of her hair.

“Um...both.” I decided with a small gulp. My knees were shaking with the urge to flee (thank you, Fight or Flight reflex), but I knew I wouldn’t get far. Not with my asthma. As it was I was already trying to fend off a panic attack and stop the wheezing building in my chest.

“The glasses? Magic, doofball.” I wasn’t entirely sure I liked being called a doofball. “And the serious can of a*s whoopin’ I just dished out on your behalf? That’s what they call karma.” She wiped the blood off of her cheek, but it quickly welled back up again. She then turned to me and made a dissatisfied facial expression.

“Your face got messed up pretty bad.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. Now be serious, I want real answers to my questions.”

“I am being serious. Magic is real, doofball.-”

“Stop calling me that, please.”

“Nah. It suits you, You act like a doofball. So that’s what I’ll call you.”

“But my name is-”

“Nono. Don’t really care what your name is. You’re a Doofball.”

“Will you just answer me seriously?!”

“I’m being quite serious. One- that guy had it comin’. Like, for real. He shouldn’t go picking on runts like you just because it’s easy pickings.”

“Heeeeeeeey,” I said in a somewhat whiny tone. “You aren’t exactly the strongest looking person either!” I paused for the slightest of moments. “How did you beat those guys up? You’re approximately...half their size.”

“ ‘Smaller than’ does not mean ‘weaker than’. I grew up...rough. Let’s just say I know how to handle myself.” She looked me up and down before she started to turn away. “You should go home. It’s kind of pathetic seeing you get mauled like that. Like watching a puppy run out into the street. I know it’s a bad idea - but clearly you don’t.” My heart skipped in my chest- fear.

“I-I can’t go home like this! If my mom sees me like this she’ll-!” Speak of the devil and she shall arrive.

“Adrian Riley O’Connell!!!!!” I could hear the shriek of impending doom and endless groundings awaiting me. I was never going to leave the house again, not if I told her the truth (which, of course, I had to). She would fear for my life and never let me go out so long as she knew those faceless bullies were running around. I mean... I wasn’t entirely content either, but human interaction had been rather liberating. At least...with her, it had been.

“Oh my lord! My poor precious baby!” She crouched down and scooped me up into her arms, her strawberry hair smelling like disinfectant and soap, a scent I have grown to associate with comfort ever since I was old enough to know fear. I grimaced and gave the mystery girl a pleading stare; I wanted her to tell Mother I tripped or something, to give me permission to lie in a way.

“Who did this to you?” Oh no…. If I told her the truth….that they had gotten away... I wouldn’t be allowed to go outside until I was thirty-seven! But, by some miracle, mystery girl seemed to interpret my stare.

“I did it,” she said sternly. Holding her head up to look my mother in the eyes.

“You…. You did this?!” Rage I had never seen before filled my mother up to the brim as she took in the sight of the rugged mystery girl, who certainly looked like she had been in a fight of some kind.

“Yes. I was angry. So I pushed him off the tower. Then he started to cry and I wanted him to shut up. So I hit him over and over, he cries like a little girl- it was really funny, actually. Then we wrestled. And I won.” She told the lie so well I almost believed it myself. My mom looked ready to spit flames.

“What is your name, little girl!?”

“Gwen.”

“Gwen who?”

“Gwendolyn Faire.”

“And where on earth are your parents!?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah. I ain’t got any. So if you want to talk to my guardian, you’re gonna have to talk to my Uncle Marty.”

“Oh, I will.” With that Mother released me and grabbed her by the ear sharply. I saw her wince but she didn’t make the mistake of pulling away. She dragged her all the way back to our house and made her call her “Uncle Marty” from out on our front porch, too vengeful to even allow her inside. She didn’t even offer her a band-aid or neosporin for her cuts.

“I’m so glad that little delinquent demon child is off of the streets.” I recall Mother saying over our dinner that night, boiled potatoes and grilled chicken. I had to mumble a sound that vaguely sounded like assent as I poked my potatoes around with my fork. I knew she would never understand. Mom may have been crazy smart, but she would never really understand me, she would never understand why that girl lied.

And she would never understand why she was my hero.

Reviews

[Jared Grace]

Great chapter. Looking forward to the forthcoming ones