Download App
60% Worm Tinkering (tinker of fiction) / Chapter 2: Winslow High

Chapter 2: Winslow High

2/8/11 Tuesday

I'm in Winslow High as a transfer student now heading into the principal office.

There I face Principal Blackwell, she nodded towards me as I shake her hand, before heading off to sit on her chair.

"Hi, Principal Blackwell."

"I'm Chris Clinton."

"Hello. Are you familiar with all of the lessons that you have to take?" She asked. I noticed she had a little acne on her cheeks.

"No... If you could show me where I could find a timetable, that would be great."

"Sure. I'll print one-off," she replied, moving to her computer.

I made my way over to maths class - Math - now that I'm in America.

The teacher was talking to the class over some basic quadratics.

I walked right back away and down the hall.

I just realized - Greg Veder is with a group of thugs. This isn't just any old world - this world you can't just walk in and say, 'uh.. uh... excuse me because it will kick out of you. I hope I'm not just being overly paranoid, but why would someone like Greg Veder get beat up like that? Hyper boosted bullying, with gang warfare power, plays even on a smaller scale. I'd rather wait for the next class.

Fortunately, the computer lab had some space before I came in. I made my greetings and took up a seat. I was 90% sure this was the right class - heck, it was even supposed to have Gladys Knott, whenever the lesson started.

Some idle browsing and the lesson had finally come around. I was given one or two glances, but it looks like I hadn't been recognized as a potential newcomer. As a side, wow - I hadn't even realized how young I am. 15-year-olds.

Good, but they are going to get more uneasy if I don't introduce myself here. I approached Mrs. Knott, "Maam. Can I introduce myself to the class?"

She smiled encouragingly, "Yeah, go ahead."

Good. I stood up in front of the projector space. Half of the class was designed to look at me, most of them preoccupied with their computers. Ideal, hopefully.

"Hi everyone. I'm Chris Clinton. I'm new, and uhh yeah, I'm now part of your class." I quickly tacked on, "No need to cheer or anything." I stood for a solid couple more seconds before walking back Anyway, I walked over to the indicated seat and sat down. Taylor glanced at me from under her bangs, before looking away just as quickly. Jesus Christ, she looked like she needed a hug! I ruthlessly suppressed the urge and instead smiled at her and held out a hand. I've been told I have a smile that either makes people feel better or puts them on edge, depending on my mood and how I feel about the person in question.

"Hey, I'm Chris," I said.

Taylor looked a little taken aback. I don't think she was expecting me to talk to her and I could sort of see why. I'm a big guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with the looks of the type of guy who's popular, gets on whatever sports team is big at that particular school, and flushes the nerds head down the toilet. In other words, exactly the opposite of the guy who'd talk to the girl with specs, little to no confidence, and a complete lack of fashion sense. However, looks can be extremely deceiving and the truth was, I'd probably be labeled as one of the nerds before the week was out.

"Um, Taylor," said Taylor, hesitantly shaking my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Taylor," I said, "I hope we can be friends."

Taylor blushed and looked down awkwardly.

"That...might not be a good idea," she muttered.

I scoffed.

"I can deal with idiots," I said, "Trust me, I know how to deal with bullies."

Taylor's head snapped up and I caught the look in her eye.

"Oh come on, it's obvious if you know what to look for," I said, "Lemmie guess, popular girls decided that you're not cool and with them so you're the perfect target?"

"Errr…"

"That's a yes," I said, "Let me give you some advice when dealing with bullies Taylor. Nine times out of ten, their cowards looking to make themselves feel better by picking on someone weaker. It is not hard to get one upon them. Unfortunately, it's that last 10% that is the problem."

"How so?" asked Taylor.

"They're the ones who think that they have a right to make people feel miserable," I said, "Either through superiority complexes, being spoilt or any number of other things, they truly believe that there's nothing wrong with what they're doing. With that subset, something needs to happen to make them realize that their actions have consequences. Unfortunately, that type also tends to be the ones with rich parents or are the darlings of the school, so it's kinda hard to do anything about them. Well, legally that is."

After a few minutes of surfing the internet on cape sites, the bell rang and I followed quickly out after Taylor when she left class

"Taylor, wait a minute". I asked as I ran after her and she stopped and looked at me.

"Could you help me, I'm new here, so I do not know where the classes are," I asked as I lifted my schedule.

Taylor hesitated a little before nodding and picking up the time and blinking in surprise.

"You have the same lessons as me ..." She said in surprise and I could not help but smile

"Then lead the way, my lady". I said as I bent slightly causing Taylor to blush as much as a tomato

"O-Of c-course ... thi-this way." She said as I followed her to the next class.

After the morning class, Taylor headed toward the ladies' room as I headed toward the cafeteria.

After Class I rode around the back of the school, skidding to a halt outside the rear entrance. What I saw there stopped me cold.

Taylor. Standing just outside the doorway, looking at me, a dozen different colors and flavors of soft drink dripped from her body. A trail of sticky liquid followed her, snaking back into the building. Her long hair had matted down onto her shoulders in tangles. Her clothes clung tight to her body, showing just how lean she was.

Like a drowned cat.

Taylor looked at me. I spooled up the nerve, grabbing hold of reality. I knew what I could do. Nothing major. Nothing world-shaking. But it'd make me feel better about myself.

"Hey, Taylor!" I called out. "How're you getting home?"

She stopped. Officially, we had entered unknown territory.

"There's a bus," she said through thin lips, caught off guard.

"Eh," I nodded towards the pillion seat. "I can take you."

"Thanks," Taylor said.

Both of us waited for different shoes to drop. After a few moments without mysterious fedora-wearing visitors or a terrible threesome to give chase, we both assumed we'd get away with it.

The world continued to turn.

I gave her the usual run-through I gave all passengers on how not to get us both killed by gimballing around corners, and how to communicate over the noise of the engine. I waited for her to squelch into place on the slab of a passenger seat before booting the engine back to life.

She gripped tightly as the bike lurched, steadied herself, then clung on to the tail.

That's all it took. Nobody stopped me. Nobody stopped her.

The pair of us passed out of the school gates, took a right turn, and left the pages of the story for something new.

The idea shot through me like a bullet, turning up the heat on the idea simmering at the back of my mind. Tonight, the girl on the back of my bike would don the Cape for the first time, go bug a dragon, meet some new friends and be back home in time for breakfast.

Or something like that.

A tap on my shoulder told me to take the next right.

A quick detour to avoid a rollicking from the cops caused her to tense, expecting the worst for a few minutes before we turned back to the main streets.

Another left. Another right. Riding like I carried a statue of glass on the back.

Back on track, she relaxed. The future sat on my pillion seat. Try not to Crash. Try not to get her arrested. The weight of the world hung off the back of my bike, clinging to my every thought and action. Every twist of the throttle could turn an apocalypse into total annihilation.

Both of us sat on the edge.

My fingers blanched white.

Another tap, another left onto Lord Street then a short sharp jerk on the throttle, followed by two rapid pats.

Stop.

Outside an old house that I knew probably had one gammy step.

She stepped off the bike, taking a moment to fix her hair and glasses.

"Thanks," Taylor said.

"I'll see you around, so," I said, throttling the bike before she had a chance.

My effort gained me a stained pillion seat, sticky leathers, and possibly the friendship of Taylor.

Upon returning to my house there I was greeted by Ninja Khan's that I task in getting materials for the Mask of Tarakudo.

I smirked, It's time to tinker.


Load failed, please RETRY

Weekly Power Status

Rank -- Power Ranking
Stone -- Power stone

Batch unlock chapters

Table of Contents

Display Options

Background

Font

Size

Chapter comments

Write a review Reading Status: C2
Fail to post. Please try again
  • Writing Quality
  • Stability of Updates
  • Story Development
  • Character Design
  • World Background

The total score 0.0

Review posted successfully! Read more reviews
Vote with Power Stone
Rank NO.-- Power Ranking
Stone -- Power Stone
Report inappropriate content
error Tip

Report abuse

Paragraph comments

Login