19

Chapter 19

I, Panacea

Part Nineteen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Third

[A/N: This chapter beta-read, and much improved upon, by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

The more that Amy moved around Winslow, the harder it became for her not to compare the place – unfavourably – with Arcadia. Graffiti abounded, students openly wore gang colours in the hallways, and she was pretty sure that more than a few of them were high. The three that brushed past her certainly were. But the worst bit, in her considered opinion, was the fact that the staff apparently just didn't care.

Still trying to get her head around this, she followed Taylor down the hallway. Despite the fact that she couldn't get sick, she still didn't want to touch the walls.

Hey, Amy.

What?

Do me a favour. Get your phone out, and turn on the recording function for me.

What? Why?

There was humour in his tone. It's amazing what people will say if they don't know they're being recorded.

Pretty sure it won't be admissible in a court of law.

An after-school meeting isn't a court of law.

Of course. Carol had taught her that much. Good point.

Taking her phone out, she paged through the screens, found the one she wanted, and did as Michael had said. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, she tucked the phone into her blouse pocket. Taylor looked at her oddly; Amy shrugged. I hope we get something good before the battery runs out.

As it happened, they were the fifth and sixth people into the classroom for math period. Emma sat with Madison and Julia, at the desks they always favoured. The teacher, an older man who Amy decided had to be on the downhill slide of a battle against alcoholism, sat at his desk. Rather than ask Taylor who he was, Amy decided to check her own personal repository of esoteric knowledge. Who's he?

That's Mr Quinlan. And you're right. He's a pisspot.

She was almost startled into a giggle. A what?

Pisspot. From 'piss', noun, meaning 'alcohol', and 'pot', noun, meaning 'one who contains'. Thus, one who contains alcohol.

Oh. A drunk.

What I just said.

Where is that a word for 'drunk'?

Australia.

How do you … She paused. This is a conversation for another time.

Yup. And Taylor's got some bad news.

What?

She looked at Taylor, to see that the taller girl was looking down at the seat of the desk nearest the door. It was covered in orange juice.

Amy immediately looked over at the red-haired girl and her cronies. They looked back at her; she detected not the faintest flicker of guilt in their expressions. Triumph and challenge, yes, but not guilt. If I accuse them, they'll just deny it and alibi each other out.

Yup. Michael's voice held dour satisfaction. See what Taylor's been up against, here?

Yeah. Kind of wondering why she didn't go out to be a villain months ago.

Like I said. Wanted to be a hero.

"It's okay," Taylor said quietly. "We'll get different desks."

Amy shook her head. "No. I'm not going to let this shit go on." Turning, she marched up to where Mr Quinlan was sitting at his desk, writing. Stopping in front of the desk, she waited, while other kids entered the room behind her. She could tell that some were shooting her curious glances, but she didn't let that deter her.

After half a minute, during which time the teacher did not look up once, she cleared her throat politely. "Excuse me, sir?"

Another fifteen seconds or so passed before Mr Quinlan raised his head and looked vaguely in her direction. She didn't need the waft of alcohol-fuelled breath to tell her that he was drunk; or at least, that he had been drinking. On a school day? Drunk in class? Jesus. I can't even …

"Can I help you?" he asked sharply, his gaze focusing on her. "Do I know you? I don't think you're in my class."

"Sir, my name's Amy Dallon," she said, then added helpfully, "Panacea."

Quinlan blinked hard, then stared at her. "Panacea?" It was as if he'd never heard the word before. "Ridiculous. Panacea would never come to Winslow. Go and sit down, whoever you are. We're about to start class."

With a sigh, Amy pulled out her PRT-issued ID card. It wouldn't get her anywhere sensitive inside the building, but she could at least use it to identify herself to dubious PRT officers. And drunken math teachers. "Sir, I am Panacea, and I need to talk to you about something important."

He stared at the card. "That can't be real."

Holy shit, this is worse than dealing with the Merchants. Producing her phone from her pocket, she showed it to him. "I can call Deputy Director Renick of the PRT and get him to verify it for you," she offered. "Or, you know, Brandish. Of New Wave."

"All right, fine, let's say you are who you say you are," Quinlan huffed. "Why are you here, and what do you want?"

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like you to come and look at Taylor Hebert's chair. Someone's played a prank on her. Again."

He frowned. "Who?"

"That girl there," she said, pointing directly at Taylor. "They put orange juice on her chair."

"Orange juice?" He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She couldn't believe that she was having to spell it out. "One of your students has been pranked by another one of your students. In your class. In front of you. Please, come and examine the evidence. There are exactly three suspects."

With an irritated grunt, he heaved himself out of his chair. She waited till she was sure that he would indeed follow her, then led the way to show him the seat in question.

Orange juice was still pooled in the seat of Taylor's chair. Quinlan stared at it, as if unsure as to what it was, or what to do about it. "Okay, who did this?"

"One of three people," Amy stated clearly. "Emma Barnes. Julia Morrow. Madison Clements. All of whom are under suspicion for bullying Taylor already." As she spoke, she pointed out the three girls in question.

Quinlan looked back and forth between the juice-filled seat, Amy's set face and the three that she had pointed out. Amy didn't have to have physical contact with the man to know that he really didn't appreciate being put into such a position. Well, if you actually did your fucking job once in a while …

Before he could come to a decision, Emma spoke up. "That's a lie. None of us did it."

Amy was coming to despise her more and more by the moment. "Mr Quinlan, she or her friends almost certainly did do it, because they were the only ones in here when we got here. You didn't do it, and we didn't do it, so -"

"Actually, you probably did do it," Emma broke in, glaring at Amy. "Glory Girl's so popular, you'll do anything to get attention."

"Or just to get us in trouble." That was Madison, right on cue.

"Yeah," added Julia sycophantically.

Amy shook her head. "No, you -"

"Panacea, listen." It was Mr Quinlan. "They're right. We don't know who did it. So just clean it off and sit down already. I've got a class to teach."

Taylor sighed; Amy realised that she'd known how this was going to go from the beginning. "Mr Quinlan, where can I tip it? I don't want to make a mess on the floor."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Emma stage-whispered, causing a ripple of laughter across the room.

"I don't care," the teacher declared as he reached his desk. "Just do it."

"Taylor, one second," Amy murmured. She took her phone from her pocket, turned off the recording function and activated the camera. Carefully, she took a photo of the seat. The light wasn't great, but she was pretty sure that she'd gotten it.

After tucking the phone away, she put her finger in her mouth for a second, then dipped the same finger into the pool of juice. The custom micro-organisms that she had created in her mouth spread through the pool like wildfire; by the time she pulled her finger out of the puddle, the surface had already hardened to a jelly-like substance.

God damn, that gets more impressive every time you do it.

Mentally, she preened. Why, thank you.

Taylor stared at what had once been orange juice but which was even now darkening to a light brown. "What did you do to it?"

Amy grinned at her. "Tell you later." Carefully, she prodded the surface. It was springy to the touch, and there were no active micro-organisms at work, which meant that they had run their course and died off. It was the work of a moment to use her nails to lift the now-leathery edge, then she tugged at it. It peeled off the seat, leaving it cleaner than it had been in decades. Am I good? Yes, I am good.

Yes, you are.

Taylor touched the plastic seat. "It's dry."

"Well, it should be. All the water's locked up in this." Wadding the slab of transmuted juice into a rough ball, Amy strolled over to the trash can and dropped it in. By the time she got back, Taylor was already seated. Nobody had quite dared to take Amy's seat, so she sat down as well, and prepared to pretend to pay attention.

Well, that happened.

It did. But we can't relax. They're gonna double down. It's their only option. To scare you off before the day's over.

They won't just give up? Because I don't scare easily.

No. You don't. But the time to give up was the meeting in the office. They didn't take it, so they're going for gold.

What do you think they'll try now?

Nothing in class. Nothing physical where you can see it. They might try to separate you.

She felt the beginnings of frustration. But they're just making more trouble for themselves. Why are they persisting like this?

Because they succeeded in having Glory Girl kicked out. As far as they're concerned, winning is their natural state of affairs. Once you're gone, they can concentrate on coercing Taylor into saying nothing at the meeting.

Amy set her jaw. Not if I've got anything to do with it.

Michael's tone was approving. Good.

As the math lesson proceeded, Amy couldn't help wondering why most of the kids in the classroom had even shown up. The majority of them were only showing a token effort to pay attention. Some were talking to each other, while others had their phones out, texting to either their friends across the room or somewhere else altogether.

Amy did not miss that Emma and Madison were also talking to those around them, a state of affairs that she found more than a little concerning. The occasional glance that went Amy's way did absolutely nothing to allay her worries.

Taylor, for her part, seemed to be engrossed in the lesson. She took notes, raised her hand to answer questions, and seemed oblivious to the three girls and their cronies. However, a fly had landed on Amy's hand; concentrating, she directed her power to examine the signals passing through its brain.

As she suspected, there was far more going on in that fly's brain than was normal for any bug. She had seen exactly that sort of thing once before, when dealing with the spiders in the bank. Taylor's using her power right now, directing the bugs in her radius. I wonder what she's doing?

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – she was only able to detect that something was going on, not what was going on. This meant that she couldn't accidentally give the game away by looking wherever the bugs were. And it also gives me plausible deniability, she realised. If I don't know what she's doing, I can't tell her to stop it.

Yup. She felt Michael's grin. All that's left for us is to sit back and enjoy the show. They won't try anything overt in this class, not with you watching. But it doesn't mean that Taylor can't make life a little harder for them.

What's she going to do? Amy was starting to get a bad feeling about this. She knew, all too well, exactly how effective Taylor's bugs could be.

Not sure. But she'll be careful about it. And nobody's gonna die. Or even get hurt.

I'm still not entirely okay with this. Just saying.

Pretty sure it won't be anything more drastic than orange juice on the seat.

I still can't believe that Mr Quinlan didn't even try to do something about it.

That got her a mental shrug. Winslow. Blackwell. Emma's both popular and friends with a Ward. Take your pick.

I still don't like it. But I do see your point.

Amy sighed. Michael had faith in Taylor, and she was learning to have faith in Michael. Let's see what happens.

For the rest of the class, nothing much did happen. Spitballs were thrown, but none hit Taylor or Amy. Some of the students paid attention, but most did their own thing. She was pretty sure that two students down the back of the classroom were playing a stealthy game of poker.

Then the bell rang. Taylor was on her feet almost immediately, sliding her books into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Amy stood up as well, unable to stop herself glancing over at Emma and the other two.

Michael seemed to approve of her caution. I don't put it past them to follow us and cause trouble in the hallway.

If they try anything, I'll call them on it.

They're really good at making it sound innocuous.

So I'll call them on it anyway.

A loud thump and a cry of dismay interrupted whatever Michael had been able to say; already halfway out the door, Amy glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't see Madison at all, and Emma seemed to be upset over something. What the hell?

Hah. Sounds like she got 'em, all right.

What did she do?

No idea. He sounded amused. You'll have to ask her.

Taking a deep breath, Amy moved up alongside Taylor. The taller girl's face held a tight smile of satisfaction; had Amy needed any proof of Michael's assertion, this was it.

"What did you do?" Amy pitched her voice low enough that nobody but Taylor would hear it.

Taylor shook her head anyway. "Not here." Her lips barely moved. "Let's get away from the crowd."

"Okay, fine." Amy looked around, then led Taylor into a side-corridor. "What did you do?"

Taylor's smile became a grin. "Well, you remember the cutter bugs you made for me?"

Oh, boy. This is gonna be good.

Trying to ignore Michael's commentary, Amy nodded cautiously. "Uh, yes?"

Taylor glanced piously at the ceiling for a moment. "Well, it seems that somehow, the bottom of Emma's bag got weakened to the point that when she picked it up, everything in it fell out."

"Oh." Amy closed her eyes and put her hand over them. "Oh, crap."

Sweeeeeeet.

This is not good. She could've outed herself.

"What's the matter?" asked Taylor, still grinning. "It's not like she hasn't earned any payback I can give her about a thousand times over."

Amy gave her a stern glare. "For a start, misusing powers, especially against a civilian, is skating really close to the line."

"Which line is that?" Taylor retorted. "The line where a Ward chose to use her powers to assist in the bullying of a civilian – that is, me – until I triggered with powers? Or were you thinking of some other line?"

Welp, she's got you there.

Amy gritted her teeth. "Okay, fine. But just because they did it first doesn't mean that it's all right for you to do it as well."

Taylor's expression suggested that Amy may as well have been speaking Swahili. "You have got to be shitting me. Do you have any idea how long I held back from retaliating in any way, shape or fucking form? I could've swarmed them with bugs the first time they did something to me after I got out of the hospital. And believe me, they didn't take long to start on me again. But I didn't, because I didn't want to be as bad as they were. I wanted to be a fucking hero."

She's telling the truth, you know.

"Yeah, but listen -" Amy began.

"No, you listen." Taylor prodded Amy in the chest with her finger. "I finally find a way that lets me get even a tiny bit of satisfaction out of the situation, and now you want to moralise and tell me that even that's not allowed? Who gave you the right to judge me?"

"Well, for one thing," Amy said, careful to keep her voice down, even as the anger rose in her, "I'm actually the hero, here. You're the one who chose to be a villain, remember?"

The moment stretched out. Amy watched Taylor's face change as her words hit home.

Jesus Christ, Amy. What the fuck?

She pissed me off. What was I supposed to say?

Not that.

"Well, fuck you," hissed Taylor. "Fuck you and your moralising fucking high horse. You've never had to deal with one fucking percent of the shit I face every day of my life, and you think that somehow makes you better than me. Well, it doesn't."

"I've got shit in my life too," Amy shot back. "I've got to deal with problems like you've never imagined. So don't go crying all 'oh my life is so hard' to me. Because news flash, bug girl. You don't have a fucking monopoly on hard times. Heroes get them too."

Whoa, hey, holy shit. Can we dial it back a little here?

You stay out of this. This is between me and her.

"Yeah, heroes have it so hard." Taylor shook her head. "You can go out in public without people trying to arrest you or fucking kill you. You can actually trust other heroes. And oh wait, you've got the Protectorate on speed dial to get you out of any shit you can't handle yourself." She shoved a thumb at her own chest. "I've got exactly four people I can depend on to have my back, and I'm not too sure about two of those. You saw what a shit my boss was. You can't tell me that heroes have problems like that."

"Yeah, well, I've had to grow up with a mother who can't stand the sight of me and a dad who isn't there even when he's there. The only one who cares about me is Vicky, and she doesn't -" She broke off, realising too late where that was going. The horror at her almost-confession drowned out the anger seething inside her.

Bugs burst from Taylor's hair and clothing, buzzing frantically and flying in agitated formations. In contrast, Taylor seemed to calm down dramatically, as she stared at Amy. "So that's what Lisa was talking about." Her voice was speculative, rather than angry.

Oh, shit. She knows. Fear flared in Amy's guts.

Hey, calm down. You've straightened it out with Vicky, remember? Even if she was about to blab it to anyone, it wouldn't do her much good.

She'll still think I'm a pervert, or worse. She faced Taylor, trying not to let the other girl see the disquiet inside her. "I've got no idea what you think you're talking about."

Taylor smirked a little, reminding Amy uncomfortably of Tattletale. "I was wondering what had you so worried at the bank. That's it? That's the big secret? The one that would tear your family apart?"

Something was off. Taylor wasn't reacting with the disgust and distaste that Amy was expecting. Even the bugs seemed to be calming down. "Well, yeah. She's my sister."

"Except she isn't," Taylor pointed out. "It's pretty well an open secret that you're adopted."

"But the world still sees us as sisters," Amy said. "And there'll be a lot of people who'd see it as wrong. And Carol …" She shuddered. "I have no idea how she'd react, but it would be really bad. Take it from me."

"Shit, I thought it was something really bad. Like, I don't know, maybe Glory Girl's beating the shit out of people and conning you into healing them or something."

Amy's heart lurched, and Michael's amusement didn't help much. There is that too.

Shush. She raised her chin and stared defiantly at Taylor. "So now you know my big secret. What are you going to do with it?"

Taylor tilted her head. "Gee, I don't know … nothing, I guess. If you, you know, admit that my life's been suckier than yours."

Oh, for fuck's sake. She's going to hold that over my head just to win an argument?

Well, she is a villain after all … Michael was chuckling now.

How come she's so calm all of a sudden?

She's got this little trick where she shoves her emotions off into the swarm. And is it really so important for you to be in the right?

Hmm, okay. But I still say mine's worse. Out loud, she sighed. "Fine. Your life makes mine look like sunshine and rainbows. Happy now?"

Taylor grinned, the last of the bad temper vanishing as if it had never been. "Yeah, and I'm sorry about what I said. You just hit a nerve, you know?"

Amy grimaced. "Yeah, well, you hit one or two yourself. I'm sorry, too." Awkwardly, she held out her hand. "Friends?"

Taylor reached out and gripped it firmly. "Friends."

The subtle tension in the back of Amy's mind faded away. Whew.

What?

You guys had me worried for a bit, there.

I still think that pranking Emma like that was irresponsible. And that's not counting the fact that she might have outed herself.

You know, if you'd led with that, instead of telling her what she was allowed to do with her powers, she might not have burred up so badly.

I guess …

And, you know, she's got this huge backlog of emotional pressure that she's got to let out somehow, in case she blows and goes bugpocalypse all over the school.

Ah. Amy realised that he had a point. Oh, god. I'm turning into Carol, aren't I?

She caught a hint of amusement from him. Probably not that bad, but it might be an idea to keep an eye on that. There was a pause, then he continued in a different tone. Oooh. Talking about keeping an eye on matters …

What?

Okay, say this to Taylor.

He began to explain; at first she was puzzled, but she quickly caught on. "Taylor, Michael has an idea …"

" … four seven three one. Got it. Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate that." Taylor ended the call and handed Amy's phone back to her. "Did you get that?"

"I did." As Taylor watched, Amy referred to her notepad and tapped the new number into the phone. "I've put it in Favourites under 'Long Neck'. Got it?"

"Long Neck … ahh, Deep Throat. Cute."

Amy grinned at her. "What can I say. I read bad spy novels."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Are you even sure we're going to need this?"

"Michael thinks so," Amy noted. "And I can't fault his logic." She handed Taylor the phone. "So far, every time they've tried to get at you, I've been there. They've got to be getting desperate to coerce you into taking a dive at the meeting. While I'm there, they can't do that."

"So they're gonna try to get rid of you somehow?" Taylor didn't like the sound of that.

Amy smiled. "Well, they tried that in the cafeteria. But the word's probably out in the gangs. Nobody touches me. So if they're gonna separate us, they've got to try something else."

This wasn't making any sense. "How are they going to do that?"

"No idea." Amy shrugged. "He just presented that as the next logical option. Either that or they give up, which would be sensible. We just can't assume that they'll be sensible."

Taylor rolled her eyes again. "Well, given that up until you came here they were winning, I'm not totally surprised."

Amy tilted her head slightly. "Michael says that Sophia's the main driving force behind it. But given a particular phone call, there's a good chance that she won't be a problem for much longer. Especially once a certain person learns exactly what she's been up to."

"But is this going to happen in the next five minutes, the next hour, or the next week?" Taylor let her cynicism colour her voice. In her experience, when something was supposed to act to her benefit, it usually took its own sweet time. If it ever arrived.

Amy grinned wryly. "Probably not the next five minutes. Hopefully not the next week."

"Yeah, I -" Taylor paused as the geriatric PA system burbled to life.

"Will Panacea please report to the nurse's office. Will Panacea please report to the nurse's office."

They shared a glance. From Amy's expression, she didn't like the implications of that any more than Taylor did.

Taylor shrugged. "Do I come along, or just go to class?"

Amy grimaced. "If you come with me, there's a good chance that someone will draw the teacher's attention that you're not there. Thus getting you in trouble."

"Whereas," Taylor countered, "if I go to class, there's about a one hundred and fifty percent chance that Emma and her travelling bitchfest are going to try to get at me."

Amy held up her phone. "You think they'll succeed?"

Taylor wasn't in a smiling mood, but she showed her teeth anyway. "Not on their best fucking day." Reaching out, she took the phone. "Long Neck, yeah?"

"That's right." Amy gave her a slightly concerned look. "Are you sure about this? I did promise to stick close to you for the whole day, after all."

"You did, but they aren't gonna try anything if you're there." Taylor slid the phone into the sleeve of her hoodie. "Go on, get to the nurse's office."

"I'm going, I'm going." Amy turned and walked away, but not without a backward glance. That alone warmed Taylor's heart; while the argument had not been a pretty one, it had cleared the air a little, and she felt that she understood Amy a bit better now.

A couple of flies on the biokinetic's shoulders let the bug controller know which way Amy was going. Taylor assembled a small swarm to guide the girl directly to the nurse's office. For her part, she had to get to class. Or as close to class as Emma and her followers would let her.

Nearly there. Taylor knew that she only had to go down this corridor, turn that corner and she would be almost at her destination. She had pretended not to notice the girls ducking out of view as she proceeded on her way. Emma's cronies, of course; Emma would never have done her own dirty work. With the bugs she had spread throughout the school, she knew where every one of them was, as well as the position of Emma herself. And there's Madison, and there's Sophia. Better hurry, girls. I might get away.

For a moment, she quickened her steps, tempted to do just that. She had each of her tormentors located to a nicety; it wouldn't be that much of a challenge to dance between the raindrops and show up in class anyway. The look on Emma's face would be amazing.

Reluctantly, she slowed down again. If we're going to nail them to the wall, we've got to nail them hard. Give them half a chance to create doubt, and they'll wriggle through the cracks.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. She had spent so much time working to avoid the bullies that deliberately walking into the trap seemed deeply wrong. Even if she wasn't the one who would ultimately be trapped. Okay, let's do this.

For a moment, Sophia felt a shadow of doubt. This is almost too easy. It had almost seemed as though Hebert was on to them; if she had started moving any faster, or gone a different way, they would've had to hustle to catch up to her. But now she was coming straight to them. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

She could hear the wimp's footsteps, on her way down the corridor. Left and right she glanced, checking that the others were still waiting on her signal. They were. Good. I'd hate to have to kick their asses afterward. That wasn't actually true; if they fucked up, she would positively enjoy kicking their asses. But she'd hate it if Taylor got away, after all the effort they'd gone into setting up this ambush.

Taylor rounded the corner; Sophia pulled the classroom door all the way open, and stepped out to bar her path. "Going somewhere, Hebert?"

The sad little queef fiddled with the cuffs of her hoodie. Sophia glanced sharply down – if this little cow manages to shank me, I'll never hear the end of it – but Hebert's hands were empty. She doesn't even have enough guts to bring a weapon to school. Hebert stepped back a pace, but the other girls were already crowding out of the classroom to surround her.

"Sophia." Taylor's voice was plaintive, weak. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I just want to get to class."

This was more emotion than Sophia had heard from her in months. Finally. We're getting to her. She bared her teeth in a predatory grin. "Are you telling me what to do, cunt? Are you giving me orders?"

Taylor stepped back again, but Emma was behind her. The redhead pushed her forward again, until she was nose to nose with Sophia. "N-no," whined Hebert. "I don't want any trouble. I just want to be left alone. I don't – I don't understand why you keep hurting me and taking my stuff and teasing me. I've done nothing to you, or Emma, or Madison, or Julia."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "We do it because you deserve it, you weak little piece of shit. Every day you walk in here, you insult the rest of us, because you just don't fucking belong."

"B-belong?" stammered Taylor. She stepped back again, only for Emma to shove her forward again more sharply. "Ow! Stop that, Emma!"

Almost casually, Sophia punched Taylor in the stomach. The skinny girl gagged and bent over forward, clutching at her midsection. Again, Sophia felt a faint shred of concern; Hebert's stomach muscles were a lot firmer than the last time she'd gut-punched her. Little douche-gargler thinks she can get stronger by working out. Not as strong as me. She grabbed Hebert's hair, twisting her fingers into the curls. The skinny cow's face twisted with pain as Sophia pulled her up into a semi-standing position.

"Belong," hissed Sophia. "As in, in this school. In this city. On this fucking planet. You don't deserve it." She drew back her fist to make her point.

"Careful," muttered Emma. "We don't want to leave marks on her."

Teeth gritted, Sophia conceded the point. Even that stupid twit the PRT had foisted on her as a minder would have to take notice if Taylor showed up with a black eye or broken nose. So she thumped the bitch in the gut again, but with less force than she'd used before. No sense in leaving visible bruising, after all.

Taylor still doubled up, or attempted to. Sophia's grip on her hair prevented her from bending too far, although she gagged so hard that Sophia thought she might throw up. If she does, I'll make her lick it up.

"In here," she ordered, indicating the empty classroom with a flick of her head. Leading the way, she pulled Hebert along via the handful of hair; the weakling cried out from the pain and nearly tripped, but managed to catch her balance anyway. The others followed; without being told to do so, Emma shut the door once they were all inside.

When she reached the clear space between the board and the desks, Sophia forced Taylor into a kneeling position. Tears of pain were clearly visible in the girl's eyes, while more ran down her cheeks. But she managed to hold back any more cries, which was a point to her. A small one in the grand scheme of things, but still it was a point.

Which was why Sophia had to erase that point and ensure that Taylor understood forever that her place was in the dirt, below anyone who wasn't actually a waste of space. She was still amazed that Hebert hadn't tried fighting back even once; not that it would have done any good, but the skinny bitch's arms were pulled together in front of her in a cringing attitude that made Sophia want to puke.

Standing alongside Taylor, Sophia glared down at her. "Look at her," she hissed. "She thinks she's a real human being. A real person."

"If she wanted to qualify as a ninety-pound weakling," Madison ventured, "she'd have to gain weight."

"Have you smelled her?" Julia put in with a vicious smile. "No boy would ever want to ask her out. He'd puke first."

Sophia thought that this was funny, but she could make it even better. "And then he'd ask the puke on a date instead of her." The laughter from the others buoyed her up, affirming her position of strength.

"Em-Emma," croaked Taylor. "You … you won't get away with this."

Emma leaned over her. "And why is that, Taylor? Why do you think I won't get away with it? I always do. I always will."

Taylor coughed painfully. "The meeting," she rasped. "I'll tell them everything that happened here."

The cruel laughter started with Emma, then spread to the others. "Without your little snitch here to back you up, it's going to be like it's always been." She clasped her hands in front of her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, no, Principal Blackwell. I have no idea why poor, deluded Taylor has spread yet another wicked story about me. But as you can see, all my friends say it's not true."

"I'll … I'll tell my dad anyway. He's got a friend in the media. We can tell them what you've been doing."

Not if I've got anything to do with it, Sophia decided viciously.

Madison looked at Taylor uncertainly. "She's lying, right?"

"No, she's not lying." Emma's voice was confident. "Her father knows the guy who runs WBB-FM here in the city. But who listens to the radio any more, right?"

"Enough people do." Taylor's voice was a mumble. "People will hear what you've done."

Emma stepped in front of Taylor, then grabbed her t-shirt. She twisted the neck of the shirt so that it cut off Taylor's air supply. Sophia approved, although she thought Emma's technique could do with improvement. While Taylor gagged and gasped for breath, Sophia shook her head in disgust. Still not fighting back, you weakling.

Emma leaned in close to Taylor. Her voice was just loud enough for Sophia to hear. "If just one person hears one bad thing about me, my dad will sue your dad for everything."

Taylor gurgled something; Sophia caught Emma's eye and shook her head fractionally. Obediently, Emma let up on the pressure. Air rasped down Taylor's throat. After a moment, she managed to reply. "So sue. I've got notes. We'll win."

Think you're strong, huh? Sophia pursed her lips slightly. In response, Emma tightened the grip again. She shook her head with a triumphant smile. "No. We will. Because even if we lose the case, my dad will just appeal it. You can win it a hundred times. We've got more money. Dad explained this to me. We'll just keep appealing until you run out of money, and then we. Fucking. Win." Emma released the pressure on Taylor's throat, and spat in her face. "You. Fucking. Lose."

Sophia restrained herself from nodding in approval; Emma was really showing her strength now. She wasn't as strong as Sophia, of course, but the promise was there.

Hebert hunched in on herself, shoulders heaving as she fought for breath. Sophia couldn't tell through the hair hanging down the skinny wimp's face, but she was probably crying. Madison thought so too. "Look. She's bawling like a baby. Whassamatter, babykins? Lose your favourite toy?"

"No," Julia said. "She needs her diaper changed. Pee-yew."

Emma showed her teeth in a smile, displaying her strength. "No. She's just crying for her mommy. Are you going to cry for a week straight, Taylor? Like you did the last time?"

Taylor straightened up a little at that one. I think that scored. Gonna have to remember that one. Sophia tensed in case she managed to show some sort of fight after all. But all she did was shake her hair out of her eyes and look at Emma. "Why?" she asked – no, whimpered. "Why did you turn on me? Why are you using things I told you against me? Why didn't you get my flute back when Sophia stole it?"

Ahh, the flute. Sophia still had fond memories of that one.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Taylor," Emma spat. "Don't you fucking get it yet? How long does it take to beat it into your thick fucking skull? I'm over you. I outgrew you in middle school. You're yesterday's news. Why do I do what I do? Because I fucking can. Because you deserve it. Like I told you before, you're the one who was stupid enough to bring the flute to school. You deserved to lose it." She shook her head. "Christ, you're fucking stupid."

"And weak," Sophia put in, just in case anyone had forgotten the most important part.

"And she's a whore," added a girl whose name Sophia had never bothered learning. "I hear she gives head for a dollar a shot after school."

"I heard that too," said Mandy someone or other. "Except I heard that she has to pay them."

The group broke into cruel laughter once more. "I got one," tittered Madison. "I heard she tried to sell herself to the Merchants for drugs, and they turned her down!"

That one wasn't bad. Sophia chuckled a little, giving the petite girl props for effort. "Not that she could use them," she added. "After all, you've got to find a vein before you can inject. Hebert doesn't have arms, she has twigs. And twigs don't have veins."

Julia was just opening her mouth to offer another joke when the door opened. Sophia looked around hastily. "Wrong room!" she snapped. "Fuck off!"

Amy Dallon stepped into the room. "No, I don't think so," she observed mildly. "Pretty sure I'm in the right place. How you doing, Taylor?"

Sophia shared a startled glance with Emma. She wasn't sure what was going through the redhead's mind, but for her it was the question how the fuck did she find us? She gestured with her head; taking the hint, Emma moved toward the door to block Panacea's view of what was going on. At the same time, Sophia let go of Taylor's hair and stepped back.

"Taylor's having a bit of a mental break," Emma said in a sugary sweet tone that Sophia wasn't at all sure that she could ever duplicate. "We're just trying to help her get over it."

Taylor coughed, then climbed to her feet and turned to Amy. "I'm doing okay, now. Good to see you. What was the emergency?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Well, it seems that two of our dumber gang members each heard rumours that the other was dissing him behind his back. So they went and kicked each others' asses. I'm just glad they didn't use knives." She moved past Emma and approached Taylor.

The fuck? They're just talking. Why the hell isn't Hebert blabbing, or Dallon shouting at us? Sophia met Emma's eyes; the other girl looked just as confused.

Apparently ignoring the fact that she was the focus of every eye in the room, Amy held out her hand. "You got it?"

"Right here." Before Sophia's disbelieving eyes, Taylor slid a smartphone out of her sleeve and handed it over to Panacea. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. That's why she wasn't fighting back. Sophia began to get a really bad feeling about this.

"Hey, no probs." Amy tapped an icon on the phone. "So, did you get all that?"

Fuuuuuck.

The voice that came out of the speaker was clearly audible to the whole room. It was an older man, with the rasp that came from smoking a pack a day. "Sure thing. Sound quality's pretty good too. By the time I clean it up, they'll be able to catch every whisper, every word. Nicely done, kid."

"No," said Taylor. "Thank you. Were you listening?"

"Like I said, every word. You gonna nail those little shits' hides to the wall?"

"That's the plan," Panacea said lightly. "Talk to you later – Long Neck."

"Hah. Girlie, for one thing, you got the reference the wrong way around. And for the other, I ain't no Woodward and Bernstein. Anyway, gotta go. Say hi to Danny for me, kid."

"I'll do that. And thanks again." But Hebert was talking to dead air; the call had ended.

Sophia stared at the two girls, an incandescent rage building inside her. "You fucking recorded us? You spineless -"

Taylor laughed in her face. "No. I warned you. Remember? My dad knows someone in the media. I told you to your fucking face and you didn't listen. You're fucked, Sophia. You lose."

Sophia, fully aware of what could happen if she started something with Panacea in the room, had been holding her temper in check. But that last word was the final straw. I. Don't. Lose.

A red film dropped over her eyes and the world became fury, until all she could see was Hebert. The epitome of all that was wrong in the world, standing right in front of her, and she was going down. Fists clenched, Sophia surged forward. Vaguely, she heard Emma shouting something in the background, but she didn't care any more. Sophia's knuckles slammed into Hebert's mouth, splitting the skank's lips, spinning her around and dropping her to the ground.

Hands grasped at her left arm; she yanked it free and delivered a sharp backfist, all without taking her eyes off the prize. Nobody fucks with me. Her knuckles crunched on someone's face. Serves you right for getting in my fucking way. Launching herself forward, she brought her knees down on Hebert's ribs and swung a fist at her face -

Her left arm went dead, falling to her side. Unbalanced by the momentum of her swing, she fell sideways, feeling the numbness spreading throughout her body.

What the …

Collapsing bonelessly on the ground, she turned her head just far enough to see Panacea cupping a bloodied hand over her own face, her eyes sharp with satisfaction.

… fu

End of Part Nineteen