This Just Isn't My Day (Camila)

[Stephen Paulinski]

     “D-do I have to get on that thing?”

     Stephen wrung his hands as he eyed the boat nervously. Stephen did not like water. One might think it was because he had fire powers, but that was not the case. Stephen’s fire abilities had just manifested little over two months ago, and Stephen had a dislike of water ever since he was a toddler.

     “Is there another way to get to Ashford?” Stephen timidly asked the suited government agent who was escorting him. The agent rolled his eyes. “There’s a helicopter,” he said in a dry voice, “We can take that if you’re too afraid of the water.”
     Stephen felt a cold pit form in his stomach. He did not care if he was deathly afraid of water, he was not about to let on that he was a coward.

     Besides, Stephen thought to himself, How bad could it be? I mean, if something goes wrong, I’m sure they have precautions.

     But what if the precautions fail? he wondered. I could end up falling into the ocean, slowly dying because of my inability to swim. Stephen imagined this scenario. The ship had gotten into some terrible accident, destroying most of it. There was nothing for Stephen to do except cling to a piece of the boat as it slowly sunk into the icy, dark blue waters. Stephen imagined himself being slowly enveloped by the sea, his vision slowly turning dark blue. He imagined himself unable to breath, slowly suffocating in the liquid that was vital for human survival.

     Stephen shook his head. His mind was made up. “Why don’t we take the helicopter?” he asked, feigning as much courage as his quivering form could muster.

     The flight to the island was relatively quiet, save for the loud whir of the helicopter rotor. Stephen sat in his assigned seat, looking aimlessly around the small flight cabin. He noticed another teenager accompanied by an agent who looked similar to the one who was escorting Stephen. The teenage boy looked to be about Stephen’s age, so Stephen thought he could try to start up some conversation.

     “Hey!” Stephen shouted over the helicopter’s noises. The boy did not respond. After a few seconds of silence, Stephen tried again. “How are you doing?” The boy looked up at this. Go to hell,” was his short reply before turning his back on Stephen. Okaaaaaay…, Stephen thought.

     Stephen was beginning to feel bored. The kid did not want to talk, a fact that Stephen was let known under no uncertain terms. He thought about getting a graphic novel out of one of his suitcases, but he did not know which one contained his books, and he did not feel like expending the energy to look. So, Stephen did what he always did whenever a situation like this arose; he retreated into his imagination.

     Ashford materialized in Stephen’s mind’s eye, at least, it materialized in the way he imagined it would look like. Stephen had never seen Ashford before. In fact, he did not really know much about it. He just knew that his father, who worked for the government, suggested Stephen go there, and whatever was good for his father was good enough for him.

     In his imagination, Stephen saw himself training. He saw himself become the best he could be. He saw himself leaving Ashford, becoming a superhero and saving everyone that he could. Stephen convinced himself that once he was out of Ashford, he would be able to help everyone he came across. He would never let anyone be hurt. He would not let any innocent person be hurt…

     Ashford melted away, replaced by an old building engulfed in raging fire. Stephen was inside the building, saving its occupants as best he could with his newly developed powers. Everything was fine, until the time for that fateful moment came around.

     There was a man who looked to be about twenty years old. He was a trapped occupant within the building, just like the many others Stephen had saved. This man was the last one to be rescued. Stephen was feeling cocky; this was going to be an easy rescue. The wall behind the man crumbled, the debris threatening to fall on him. Stephen smiled slightly. This had happened before with the first person he saved. Stephen knew what to do.

     No! Stephen thought to himself, trying to shake the images of what happened next. It was too late. Images flashed before Stephen like a paused movie stuck in fast forward. The fire launching from Stephen’s arm; the right side of the man’s face burning with red fire; the man writhing in pain on the ground, trying to pat out the fire; Stephen rushing over, picking up the man and extinguishing the flames; the man in Stephen’s arms, unconscious; the man’s face, melted and blackened on the right side.

     Stephen shook his head, unable to think about what happened anymore. He was back in reality, the images in his head replaced by the inside of the helicopter. Stephen let out an unintentional shiver and hugged his knees. It’s okay, he thought, That’s why I agreed to go to Ashford. Stephen’s shivering intensified. It’ll never happen again, he reassured himself. Stephen repeated that phrase in his mind continuously even after the helicopter touched down on the island.

     Stephen did not notice the helicopter landing. He was staring at the opposite wall, hugging his knees. No matter how many times he tried to reassure himself that everything was going to be okay, he could not calm down. In reality, he was getting more and more agitated as time went on.

     Stephen’s arms started to feel warm; he knew what was going to happen, and he was not looking forward to it. Stephen moved his arms out of the way of anything flammable as his hands started to flicker with orange fire. He felt clammy and began to hyperventilate. Calm down, man, Stephen told himself, Calm down!

     “Hey, kid!” the agent's voice came from outside the helicopter. The sudden shouting of the agent made Stephen forget about his agitation and the flames on his hands subsided. The agent stepped inside the helicopter. “Are you deaf or something?” he asked Stephen, “I’ve been calling you for the past minute.” “Sorry,” Stephen mumbled, his head still swimming.

       Stephen unbuckled himself quietly, wincing when his burnt hands touched the cold metal buckle. The boy he was traveling with let out a small snicker when he saw how Stephen was acting. The boy’s laugh made Stephen’s blood boil. Stephen stood up and stared right at the boy. “Yo, man,” Stephen began, “What the hell is your problem?” His forearms began to flicker with yellow fire as his anger rose. “I was just trying to be nice to you earlier, and you tell me to go to hell. Now you’re laughing at me?” Stephen’s forearms erupted with yellow fire as he yelled, “What is your problem?!”

     The boy moved forward, obviously wanting to start a fight. The two agents stepped between the two boys, holding what appeared to be tranquilizers in their hands. “Alright,” the agent that was watching over Stephen began, “that’s enough. One more move from either of you and you’ll both be taking a very long nap.”

     Stephen did not hear the agent; his ears were ringing with anger. Stephen had enough of this kid. First the kid tells him to go to hell, then he has the audacity to laugh at him after Stephen was having a panic attack? Stephen took another step forward towards the boy, then his world went black.

     When Stephen awoke, he was lying in a bed His suitcases were stacked next to the bed. and a uniform with a piece of paper taped on the shirt was lying on top of them. Stephen got out of the bed and took the paper off of the uniform. It was a note. It read:

Kid:
Don’t get into anymore fights. I won’t be around to break them up at Ashford. If you get hurt, we’re going to get an earful from your father.
I attached the note to your uniform. The sleeves have been cut off, per your father’s request.
Again, do not get into trouble at Ashford. Your father will have my ass on a silver platter if you do.
-Agent Mathis

     Stephen crumpled up the note. “Aw,” he said sarcastically, “Glad to know he cares so much.”

Stephen put on the uniform and looked at himself in the mirror. If he cared about his appearance, he would have thought he looked ridiculous. The sleeves of the blazer and oxford shirt were both cut off so he would not burn them off in case his powers flared accidentally. His coarse, white hair was ruffled from laying down.

     Stephen still felt groggy from the tranquilizer. He sat down on the bed and looked through his suitcases. He tossed the contents in each case on the floor until he found what he was looking for. He withdrew a graphic novel from the case and began to flip through it.
Stephen could not concentrate on the book. Maybe some fresh air will help me clear my head, Stephen thought.

     Exiting the boys’ dormitory, Stephen began to wander with the graphic novel tucked under his arm. He walked around, taking in all the scenery. Ashford was not like anything he imagined; it was much bigger and beautiful.

     Stephen continued to wander until he entered what appeared to be an outside rest area. There were many trees and flowers, and there were benches scattered throughout. “Perfect,” Stephen mumbled, smiling. He plopped down on a nearby bench and began to read.

     Stephen was reading in absolute silence for a few minutes when he heard footsteps on the cobblestone path nearby. He raised his head and noticed a pretty girl with blue eyes and brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

     Stephen put the graphic novel aside. “Hi,” Stephen said with a bright smile, trying once again to be nice and make friends, “How are you doing today?”

[Camila Reyes]

Three weeks, twenty one days and way too many hours to be calculated in her head. It had been exactly that much time since she had arrived and boy, had it been interestingly annoying, boring and eventful all at once. Never had she thought that she would even use annoying, boring and eventful all in the same sentence to describe the school she was attending. She remembered how boring her old school and was grateful for a change of scenery. However, she was not very grateful for not being able to leave the damn island for even a minute because, heaven forbid, the planet might explode. She had to stifle the laugh trying to escape from her lips; even her thoughts were dripping with sarcasm. God help the telepathic peeping toms around here. Let’s hope there aren’t any… Especially not prefect ones…

She strode into the center of the courtyard, an anatomy and physiology book tucked under her arm. She looked around before finding a tree to sit under. She leaned against the trunk, opening the book to start studying. She supposed now was a good a time as any to focus herself on her schoolwork, since she had no real friends to distract her from anything. She traced the diagrams delicately with her finger, smiling a little to herself; for some odd reason, she was already enjoying this subject. To be fair, the brunette did not really hate school itself, just being trapped in a prison that masqueraded itself as a school. She tilted her head, examining the diagram of the frontal section of a human heart a little closer. She wondered why she was so fascinated with something that looked so simple, but was actually so complex. She snorted to herself; maybe the picture was a symbol of her. She seemed simple on the outside, but she was actually more complex than she appeared. She shook her head, her chocolate brown hair swishing behind her as she flopped on her stomach. She turned the page quietly, starting to read the words printed on the next page. She remained that way for some time until she heard a muffled noise and sat up abruptly.

She closed her book quietly, peeking out from behind the tree. A young man about her age was strolling into the courtyard, probably looking for a quiet place to sit. She observed him for some time, squatting silently behind the tree. His hair was an odd, white color that baffled her slightly. Do half of the guys here gray early or something? she thought with a small scowl. She blinked when she noticed the arms of his uniform were missing. She looked down at the white, button up shirt she wore and raised an eyebrow. Must be one of the “rebellious” types, she thought with a silent snort. The rest of his uniform remained intact, matching the picture she remembered seeing in the handbook. She narrowed her sapphire eyes a little, watching him open something and lay it on his lap. He’s kinda cute. Seems like a real dork, but cute… After a moment, she shook her head vigorously and rose to her feet, trying not to rustle the grass. She needed to get out of the area before she lost anymore brain cells than she already had. Probably one too many hits to the head in gym, she thought to herself, emerging from behind the tree with her book in her arms. She walked briskly past the young man, keeping her sapphire eyes on the cobblestone pavement. A baritone voice reached her ears and she stopped in her tracks, clenching her jaw.

“Hi! How are you doing today?”

“Crappy, actually.”

She delivered her clipped response after turning around on her heel. Her teeth were clenched together, the muscles in her cheeks tense. Her sapphire eyes expressed her irritation, though there was a glimmer of curiosity hidden somewhere. Her chocolate brown hair fluttered in the slight breeze that had started to blow. Her pale arms squeezed the book tighter to her chest as she glowered at him. She was really not in the mood for dealing with overly-peppy people at the current moment. In fact, she would rather not have to talk any peppy people at that moment.

[Stephen Paulinski]

     “Crappy, actually.”

     Stephen was momentarily taken aback by the girl’s response. Her staccato reply and irritated look was less than expected. Is everyone in this school an antisocial jerk? he thought.

     Stephen was about to say something curt in return, but he stopped himself. The girl did not tell him to “go to hell,” which was a step up from the previous conversation he had. Besides, the girl looked troubled. Maybe I can talk to her and help her through whatever’s bothering her, Stephen thought. I would like to make at least one friend here. Besides… she’s pretty.

     Stephen was about to say something happy and cute, when he noticed a pattern to his two conversations. Each time, he tried to act upbeat and happy, hoping that his positive outlook would rub off on the other person. Obviously, that approach did not work, considering one conversation ended with a semi-fight, and this one began with the girl giving him a scowl and a short response. Stephen need to try something different. He changed his expression from a light, happy, and carefree smile to somber and concerned frown.

     “I’m sorry about that,” Stephen began, standing up and gesturing towards the bench. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about it?”

[Camila Reyes]

She had to stifle a laugh at the look on his face after he heard her response. His expression was a mix between hurt and frustration. She shook her head; he clearly had a run-in with another student, that was for sure. She shifted on her feet a little and the hem of her skirt brushed a little closer to her legs in response. I hate how short this thing is, she thought to herself with a scowl. She placed the book on a nearby bench before fiddling with the skirt a little, trying to lower the hem so it skimmed her kneecap. However, when she tried to do so, she exposed a bit of her stomach, so she tugged the button up shirt and the sweater on top of it down in frustration. She could have sworn that they gave her a small uniform on purpose, just to screw with her. She would get them back, one day. She scowled a little, huffing as she walked over the bench that was on the opposite side from where the young man was sitting. She stared at him with icy, sapphire eyes for some time without speaking.

She did not want to share anything with anyone. Who gave a crap, in all honesty? Sometimes, she wondered why she cared herself. She propped an elbow on her leg, placing her chin on her flattened hand. A scowl still tugged at the corner of her pale lips as she thought to herself for a while. Maybe not all of the people around here are jerks. Yeah, I know, but how do I know he’s genuine? Every time I've wanted honesty, I've been cheated and lied to. She let a resigned sigh slip from her lips; she would never truly know what he was like until she spoke to him. As much as she wanted to make something resembling a friend, something inside was stopping her. She had made friends in the past with no problem, so why was she trying to stop herself now? Even if the school was a prison, it was a chance to start over, build a new life. She stared at the front cover of the textbook for a little while. The picture on the front was of a male and female, standing side by side with the skin and muscle of their abdomens removed and exposing their internal organs. How romantic, she thought snidely before looking up at the boy again when he spoke to her.

“I’m sorry about that. Why don’t we sit down and talk about it?”

“Well, I’m already sitting, thanks. As for talking about it, I’m glad I found the school psychologist. What are your hours, Dr. Phil?”

Her first sentence was a little kinder than her greeting and she sounded like she was trying to be more curt than sarcastic. However, her last two statements were laced with a sharp barb of sarcasm. She tried not to make it obvious in her voice, but rather in her facial expression. Her issues ran much deeper than just a crappy day at school and that was not anyone else’s problem but her own. She would have to shake herself out of whatever the hell she was mired in at the moment. Besides, she had never been wholly honest with anyone before, so why should she start now? A new life did not mean changing her personality to fit her environment’s needs; it meant staying true to herself and trying not to screw up again so that, at the very least, she could be proud of herself. No one else is going to be proud of you, after all, she thought to herself with a scowl. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and she was flashed back to that horrific moment.

There was so much blood and it was everywhere; the walls, the floor, the couch. The blood was not what made her stumble and fall to the floor, though. There were figures, one on the couch and one in front of it. A female form was slumped on the couch, red liquid dripping from the wound across her neck. A male was laid at her feet with blood leaking from an obvious hole in his head. Something stung, though she was not sure what it was until she felt something wet roll down her cheek. Was she crying? Why? These were the parents who ignored her for the better part of sixteen years, so why was she upset?

Her eyes snapped open and she readjusted to the light that streamed into her line of vision. She realized that she had slipped into a flashback and shook her head. She pushed herself up off the bench, grabbing the book when she was standing. She clenched her teeth again, staring blankly at the supported granite slab before her. She knew that she did not have closure from that event. She also knew that talking about it would give her some kind of comfort. But, as usual, she was a stubborn young lady, so she refused to talk about it. A little part of her did feel bad for the young man to whom she had her back turned. He was just trying to be nice, after all. Maybe he would make a good friend one day. One day, she thought, But not now. It’s too soon…

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Stephen averted his gaze when the girl began to fiddle with her uniform. He felt his temperature rise as he began to tug at the collar of his oxford nervously. He felt self-conscious at his reaction. It’s not like she’s stripping or something, Stephen thought, scoffing at himself. Still, he could not bring himself to look at her until he was sure she was decent.

     When Stephen looked back a few seconds later, he saw the girl sitting on a bench away from him. Her bright blue eyes were locked onto him with a scowl.

     “Well, I’m already sitting, thanks. As for talking about it, I’m glad I found the school psychologist. What are your hours, Dr. Phil?”

     Stephen let out an irritated breath. This is going nowhere fast, he thought. He wanted to get mad at her, to yell at her. Why was she being such a jerk? He was only trying be friendly. He just wanted to make her feel better. He opened his mouth, a tidal wave of frustration and anger held back only by his gradually fading willpower. His tirade was about to begin when she closed her eyes.

     Stephen’s jaw clenched. Oh, he thought, now she’s ignoring me, huh? His hands became engulfed in orange fire. He stood there, hands trembling with pain. His vision began to blur from the tears that were forming in his eyes. He hated his powers. They did nothing but cause pain.
Stephen stood in flustered silence for a few seconds while he tried to formulate what exactly he wanted to say to this ungrateful, sarcastic, condescending--

     “Hey,” he said in a loud, irritated tone, “I-” The girls eyes opened suddenly, looking away from him. She got up, picked up her textbook, and stared at the granite support. She looked shaken.
     Stephen felt his heart twinge with compassion. His intense scowl softening to a concerned frown once again. The flames that engulfed his hands extinguished, revealing Stephen’s newly charred hands. She looks so hurt, he thought sadly, So alone.

     Stephen took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from his eyes with his upper arm. He knew that he had to help her. This girl looked so sad and angry. At what, Stephen could only guess. The only thing Stephen knew for sure was that this girl needed someone to open up to.

     Stephen flexed his damaged hands, wincing at the pain, fighting back tears. The skin was blackened in some spots, but most of it was a shade of bright, painful red. He stood in place, looking at his hands for a few seconds before mustering up the courage to engage the girl again. Stephen walked up behind the girl, placing a charred hand on her shoulder. Stephen took another breath before continuing his attempt at conversation.

     “My hours are six to twelve, actually,” he said, a small smile forming on his lips and a quiet giggle escaping his mouth, “But, I think I can extend my hours to listen to someone who really needs help.”

[Camila Reyes]

The female did not really think about anyone else when she was adjusting her uniform. Had she been a normal girl, she would have apologized for being partially indecent in public. However, she noted there were no prefects around so she did not really care that she was fiddling with her clothes. I’m not stripping or anything, she thought to herself, though her cheeks turned a little red at the thought. She shook her head, looking down at herself with dissatisfaction. She really did not like the uniform idea; it made her feel stuffy and constrained, like she was wearing someone else’s clothes. She shrugged, perching on the edge of the bench and tapping her heel against one of the legs. Her nose wrinkled at the weird sound the impact of her shoe made against the granite. I’m not sure if I can compare that to anything, that sounds so weird, she thought to herself, a look of confusion crossing her face.

Despite the fact that the horrific flashback played before her eyes, she smelled something burning. She could tell that it was not wood because it smelled almost sickeningly sweet. Once her eyes snapped open she noticed the boy’s hands were on fire. She nearly toppled off the bench in surprise. Holy crap! How the hell did that happen? she thought to herself, trying to keep her fear from showing outwardly. She knew that if people sensed fear, they would take advantage of it and that was not something she was willing to get into. Her gaze lingered on his arms and for a mere minute, a glimmer of sympathy shone in her eyes. She almost felt bad for the young man; burning your hands by accident, let alone burning your arms. She wondered to herself if there was something more than just the fire to his powers. After all, no one would be stupid enough to give someone fire powers that burned several layers of skin without some healing involved or something. Or at least, that’s what I would do, she thought with an off-handed shrug. A scowl crept upon her face at the thought a moment later. Whoever has the nerve to experiment on their own children are awful parents, she mused, glancing at the cover of her anatomy book again.

She heard something behind her but she did not turn around. She continued to stare blankly at the bench before she felt something on her shoulder. Her muscles tensed and she nearly spun on her heel and smacked the young man in the face with the book she clutched. However, she held back because she was sure he was already in pain from burning his hands. While she was not very nice a lot of the time, she was not heartless. She bent down to put the book on the bench before standing up again. She put her hand on top of his and closed her eyes, trying to focus her energy. She knew for a fact that she could help heal his charred hands, but she did not know to what extent. She had never tried to heal anyone before, so what she was about to do was new to her. She focused on calming herself before a green light started to flicker from her hand. It bathed his bright red hand in forest green light and slowly, some of the color dulled. However, she started to feel dizzy after a few minutes and she swayed on her feet, removing her hand from his and clutching her head. She angled herself a little so that, when she fell backward, she did not knock him over.

“I-I’ll keep tha’ in mind…”

Her voice came out slurred, as if she had had too much to drink. She fell back onto the pavement, wincing as she smacked her head against the cobblestones. That’s gonna hurt in the morning, she thought dryly, closing her eyes as the world began to spin around her. After a minute or two, she actually passed out, with her breathing being the only indication that she was alive. She lay still, her chest moving up and down slowly as she did so. After a few minutes, her eyes fluttered open and she let out a groan, shielding her blue eyes with a hand. Of course, her position on the ground was right under the sun, so it was shining directly into her eyes and making her uncomfortable. She let out another groan as she slowly pushed herself up so that she was sitting. She used one hand to support herself while the palm of the other hand held the right side of her head. Her blue eyes flickered to the young man who had been standing behind her before she had fallen. A blush tinged her cheeks and she looked at the cobblestones before muttering.

“How long was I out for?”

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Stephen saw the girl tense at his touch. His breath halted and his body tensed, waiting for the girl to either yell at him or hit him. What happened instead was a much more pleasant, yet unexpected, event.

     She placed a hand on top of the hand he had on her shoulder. Stephen felt his heart flutter ever so slightly at the sight of her fair, white hand enveloping his, mangled, blackened and peeling.

     Wow, I am such a loser, he thought, ridiculing himself. She was just touching his hand, it was not anything serious. And yet…

     Her hands were so silky white. Her touch was soft and welcoming, yet firm and cold. At least, that is how Stephen imagined the grip feeling. His burnt skin and screaming nerves prevented him from feeling anything besides blinding pain. Stephen was about to pull away from her touch when suddenly, through his blurry, watery vision, he saw a brilliant green light.

     Stephen suddenly felt the nerves in his one hand screams become stifled yells as opposed to earth-shattering screams. His vision began to focus, and he noticed the green light was coming from the girl’s hand. Stephen let out a breath of relief as the pain began to subside. He noticed the skin on his hand become a healthy flesh color and begin to scab over. Stephen smiled. Maybe she’s not as mean as she appeared, Stephen thought.

Stephen was about to thank the girl for healing his hand, but before he could open his mouth, the girl released his hand and she held her forehead.

     “I-I’ll keep tha’ in mind...”

     Well that can’t be good, Stephen thought nervously. A second later, the girl fell backwards at an angle away from him. Stephen tried to grab her, but the one hand the girl touched was not completely healed, and the other was still a charred mess. Stephen winced as her head smacked against the cobblestone. That’s going to hurt in the morning, Stephen thought, cringing.

     Stephen knelt down next to the girl’s prone form. “Are you okay?” Stephen asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. The girl’s only reply was her quiet, steady breathing. “Well, s---,” Stephen muttered under his breath, “I end up getting into a fight with the first person I talk to, and now I helped to knock a girl out.” Stephen stood up and faced the sky, his arms outstretched. “Is this your idea of a joke?!” he yelled heavenward.

Stephen sat down on the grass next to the girl. He knocked her out, so it was only fair that he stayed with her until she came to. He would have carried her to her room, but he did not know where that was. Hell, he did not even know her name. Stephen resolved to fix that as soon as possible.

     Stephen looked at his hands. The one the girl had touched was almost completely healed, only slightly red and stinging ever so lightly. The other hand, however, was still mangled and burnt, screaming with pain. Stephen sat and watched as the skin on his hands began to scab over and heal. Five minutes passed until the skin on his hands was like new; bright, smooth, pink, and, most importantly, painless.

     A minute after his hands healed, the girl stirred awake. She sat up, shielding her eyes from the sun and averting his gaze. “How long was I out?” she asked timidly. Stephen thought he detected a slight blush in her cheeks as she avoided eye contact.

     “About five minutes,” Stephen said in a matter-of-fact way. “I’m sorry for knocking you out, by the way,” Stephen said quietly, looking down at the grass, “I hope you’re okay”. Stephen remained silent for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to ask the girl for her name.

     “Anyway…” he finally began, “I was going to take you to your room, but I had no idea where it was. Maybe if you tell me your name and where you’re bunking, I can help you out if this ever happens again.”

     Stephen thought about what he had just said, and realized just how bad he had sounded. He shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said almost immediately, “that’s not what I meant at all.”

     Stephen’s explanation came flowing from his mouth like a raging river. “I-It’s just that I wanted to know your name and I didn’t know how to ask so I thought I was being clever so I said that and then I realized how bad it sounded and I was worried that I hurt you you and I just ...”
     Stephen took a shaky breath and shook his head. He offered his hand to the girl. “Sorry,” he said, “Let’s try this again. Are you okay? My name’s Stephen Paulinski, what’s yours?”

[Camila Reyes]

If she had not been so concerned with the charred hand on her shoulder, the blue-eyed young lady would have certainly dug her elbow into the young man’s gut without a second thought. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was only trying to alleviate her internal suffering, though she had no idea why he was even bothering. She glanced at his hand while she healed it, trying to hold in a wince. She could not even imagine the pain he was in at the moment; surely some of the nerves in his hands were screaming in pain while others lay silent, all feeling dulled from the severing of impulses. Her eyes drifted to his face for a moment and she tried to keep a straight face as she noticed the crystal droplets gathering in the corner of his eyes. She was taken aback and blinked, looking at the ground while she started to wobble a little. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much emotion from anyone… He must be in a lot of pain, she thought, swallowing. She almost felt bad for being so mean to him earlier; after all, he was only trying to help her. She also knew, though, that it could have been the fake sort of sympathy that she was used to getting, even if he did seem genuinely concerned.

The world spun a little as her head hit the pavement, though she showed no outward sign of pain besides the wince that slipped from her lips. When she passed out, she could not see anything, though she thought she heard something. She could not make out the words exactly, however. Her eyes fluttered and when she opened them, she felt like she was swimming up from the bottom of a deep lake and staring at sun for the first time in a few days. She teetered a little as she sat up, looking around with one hand still covering her eyes. How long was I out? she thought to herself before actually asking the question. She felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Had she really just passed out after trying to help someone? Maybe I should forgo the idea of being a medical professional… If trying to heal someone’s charred hand makes me pass out, then what will jabbing a needle into someone’s vein do? she thought, chewing on her lower lip. She shook her head, pushing herself off the cobblestones to a standing position and looking at the male as he spoke to her. He was speaking normally, but for some reason, his voice sounded a little far away. She rubbed the back of her head, shaking it a little to see if doing so would help her hear better.

“Um, it’s not your fault. You didn’t punch me or anything…”

The tone of her voice was less harsh and sounded more confused than frustrated. She did not say it aloud, but she thought that he had nothing to apologize for. She had been trying to help heal his hands, that was all. The passing out was just a side effect of using her powers, so there was no harm or fowl. However, she did not say any of this, hoping that it was implied in the way that she spoke. She nodded slowly, as if to say that she was alright. I’ve done worse, she thought wryly, shaking her head at the thought, Besides, a minor concussion never killed anyone, right? She blinked at his statement, raising an eyebrow at him; she only hoped that he did not actually mean to sound as creepy as he did. She took a step back just in case, eyeing him with an odd expression on her face.

“Erm, you know how incredibly creepy that sounds, right…?”

Her statement came in between his original statement and his apology. She was tempted to ask him if he always sounded so stupid in front of girls, whether it be an accident or on purpose. However, she could not find it in her heart to taunt him about it at the moment. Maybe if we meet again, she thought, trying to keep a smirk from crawling across her face. She coughed into her fist before he apologized at looked at him while he tried to explain himself. She could not contain a snicker as he stammered out an explanation and revision of his earlier statement. This guy is entertaining, she thought with a shake of her head. She stared at his hand for a moment, looking at him before nodding and taking his hand to shake it. It was then that she realized that his hands were healed and she squinted in disbelief. Okay, I know I didn’t do that, she thought, shaking her head once more. She wanted to ask him how on earth he did that, but she supposed that was probably a question for a later date. And I thought everyone here was boring, she thought, removing her hand from his after shaking it. She tilted her head a little, studying his face. He did not look like a Stephen to her, but then again, she probably did not look like a ‘Camila’ to anyone else; not that she cared or anything. How could anyone look like a name anyway? Wasn’t that the point of having a name? She blinked, clearing her throat before speaking.

“Reyes. Camila Reyes, that is. Don’t wear it out.”

Her last statement came out a light-hearted joke, though it sounded more serious in her head. She blushed a little, coughed again and looked at the sky. She was not sure what time it was, but she knew that as soon as the sun started to set, she would probably head back to her room. She did not want to get caught by the “hallway patrol”, after all. She shifted on her feet a little, bending down to pick up the book she had dropped when she had fallen. She realized that it had fallen near his feet and she picked it up casually, trying not to trip him while she did so. She was suddenly self-conscious of her skirt, though there was hardly anything she could do about it at that point. She muttered a half-hearted apology before swiping up the textbook and standing, brushing the back of her skirt down. This short uniform, she thought, clutching the book to her chest while clenching her teeth. She let out a sigh to unclench her teeth and looked at him for a moment before looking away again. Why is he so interested in me anyway? she thought, biting her lip, I'm nothing special or anything...

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Stephen was yelling at himself. Why did he have to come across as such a creeper? He was just trying to make a joke, and now he put his foot in his mouth. Why am I having such trouble speaking right now? he wondered, I don’t usually. He would be lucky if the girl did not slap him and walk away. As soon as he had finished his statement, the girl raised an eyebrow and took a step back. Well, Stephen thought sadly, it was nice to almost make a friend.

     Stephen noticed the girl snicker as he stumbled to explain himself. Maybe I can still save this, he thought hopefully. After his diarrhea of the mouth had subsided, he offered the girl a stupid smile, a limp hand, and a more coherent conversation starter. She did not shake his hand for several seconds, but instead stared at it. Stephen braced himself. This is where I get slapped, he thought dejectedly. Stephen let out a sigh of relief when, instead of a slap, he received a handshake.

     Stephen smiled inwardly. Her hand was soft.

     After letting go of his hand, she tilted her head and looked at him for a few seconds until she finally told him her name.

     “Reyes. Camila Reyes, that is. Don’t wear it out.” Stephen’s muscles loosened as he sighed with relief. Okay, he thought happily, now we’re getting somewhere. “Camila,” he said with a smile, “That’s a nice name.”

     Camila bent down and reached for something by his leg. He looked down to see what she was getting. He saw her hand reach for her textbook that was resting on the grass next to his leg. He moved a bit so she could grab the book. Stephen lifted his eyes. He immediately turned away and blushed heavily.

     The girl’s skirt was short. When she bent down to get the book, it lifted up. When Stephen looked up, he briefly saw Camila’s underwear. “Oh, God,“ Stephen mouthed while he shot his glance in a direction somewhere other than Camila’s exposed thigh.

     She’s got nice legs, he thought, Maybe I should look again. Stephen started to move his gaze back to Camila when he stopped himself. No! he yelled at himself, She’s a person, not an art gallery. Even if she is really pretty. Even if the light blue looks really nice against her milky white thigh...

     Stephen shook his head, blushing and breathing quickly. The girl stood up and fixed her skirt. She must have noticed his reaction, because she muttered an apology for being indecent before averting her eyes from his.

     “I-It’s okay,” Stephen muttered with a nervous smile, “I-it’s not that you don’t have a great body or anything, because you do-”

     Stephen stopped himself immediately and began to blush even more intensely and his heart beat began to quicken. “I mean,” he said quickly, trying to recover, “It’s just that I didn’t want to seem like I was checking you out.” Stephen smiled with satisfaction. I think I saved it, he thought triumphantly.

     His next sentence fell from his lips before he could even think about it. “Not that I wouldn't mind looking at you, you have a fantastic figure and everything, it’s ju-”

     Stephen let out an exasperated sigh before covering his eyes. I was wrong before, he thought, Now is where I get slapped.

[Camila Reyes]

“Camila… That’s a nice name.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by the statement. Some people used to jokingly ask her why her name was not Alejandra or something rather stereotypical. She knew that not everyone was that way, but she was always thinking of the worst so if things turned out better than she expected, things would be great in her eyes. It was an odd philosophy, but it was better than always getting her hopes up. She had built herself up too much in the past and she was starting to learn better.

She did not think about where she was bending down. All she knew was that she wanted to get her textbook off the ground before she forgot about it. She froze in place for a moment, her hands still grasped around the book. Is he staring at me? she thought to herself as a blush crept across her face. It was not that she minded his presence, it was just awkward because her skirt was too short and her knew that her legs were exposed. She stood up quickly, glancing at him with curious sapphire eyes. Thankfully by the time she did so, he was looking in a different direction, though she could hear his heavy breathing and almost feel his heart beating out of his chest. She coughed into her fist, her whole face turning a crimson color that would give Christmas balls a run for their money. She clutched the book closer to her chest, hoping to keep herself from smacking him with it. I can only imagine what he was thinking, she mused, looking down at her feet.

I-it’s not that you don’t have a great body or anything, because you do-... I mean- It’s just that I didn’t want to seem like I was checking you out. Not that I wouldn't mind looking at you, you have a fantastic figure and everything, it’s ju-”

“If I were you, I would shut up. Your explanations just dig you a deeper grave.”

She looked at him with a deadpan face, trying to hide her irritation. She did not want to be angry at him, but she could not help being a little ticked off. Yes, it was her fault that she had to bend down in a short skirt in front of him. However, that did not give him any right to stare at her for longer than necessary! She swallowed, still looking at the cobblestones, as if she were fascinated by them. She did not make any move to slap, punch or kick him. Instead, she back away from him slowly, heading toward the girls’ dorms. She was so embarrassed by that point that she just had to get out of there before she did anything else stupid. She looked at him once more, her face still crimson from embarrassment. This is your fault, she chided herself. She chewed on her lower lip, acting shy all of a sudden. On one hand, she wanted to leave the place as fast as she could, to save whatever dignity she had left. On the other, she did not want to just leave him alone to wander the campus, lest he act stupid around a fiercer girl and get his butt kicked.

“Will you be able to find the guys’ dorms okay? I don’t want another girl to beat you up for having diarrhea of the mouth…”

[Stephen Paulinski]

     Camila’s expressionless face cut into Stephen’s heart like an icy dagger. No matter how much she tried to hide it, Stephen knew that Camila was irritated with him.

     “Will you be able to find the guys’ dorms okay?”

     She clearly wanted to get away from him. F---, Stephen thought, Nice going, Steve…

     “I don’t want another girl to beat you up for having diarrhea of the mouth…” Great, Steven thought angrily, now she thinks I’m a wimp who can’t take care of himself. Stephen turned on his heel, hiding his tearing eyes from the girl. His fists clenched. His arms began to itch. He could feel his anger and frustration bubbling up inside, waiting to burst. No, Stephen told himself, No bursting into flames now. Stephen took a long, shaky breath before turning around. One last chance to save this, he thought sadly.

     “Look,” he began, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m just having an off day. All I know is that I wanted to talk with you because you were sad. I don’t know how it devolved into this, but I promise you that I wasn’t staring at you. I just so happened to look up when you were bending over and caught a glimpse of you.” Stephen blushed a took a breath before continuing. “I promise you I wasn’t staring at you. As soon as I noticed you were exposed, I turned away."

     The girl began to walk away, clearly finished with him.  Stephen took another shaky breath as he noticed his breath quickening and the itching in his arms intensifying.  He called after her in desperation.  "I promise I’m not trying to hit on you or be creepy. I just wanted to help you out. I just... GAH!" Stephen let out a loud grunt of frustration. His hands erupted into orange flame. "Rah!" Stephen screamed out in pain, "God damn these f---ing powers!" He extinguished the flames and stood motionless for a few moments, teeth clenched, hands held limply at his side.

     Stephen let out a shaky breath, feeling himself tear up again. He turned around quickly and slumped onto the ground, playing with the grass halfheartedly, or at least he tried to with his now-mangled hands. God, why did this go so poorly? he wondered, Why am I such an idiot? “I’m sorry for being so unintentionally creepy,” he mumbled, “I'm sorry for getting angry. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I'm sorry you had to meet me. You didn't deserve any of this...”

     Stephen let out another shaky breath as a single tear flowed down his cheek. "This just isn't my day..."

[Camila Reyes]

Camila did not mean to insult Stephen, but the one-hundred and eighty degree turn away from her made his frustration apparent. She looked slightly confused, wondering what on earth she had said wrong. She turned a little bit herself, as if to keep an eye on him. Obviously, his powers were activated by emotional irritation and she wanted to make sure he did not hurt himself again, especially since she would pass out for longer next time if she healed him. She simply watched him, waiting for him to move again. He seemed genuinely apologetic when he spoke, and she kind of felt sorry for him. Had she been a better person, they would probably have become friends by now. But of course, she was not the nicest girl at the school and she knew that everything she tried to build up would blow up in her face the instant she wished it would work. It’s my life’s curse, she thought to herself with a soft sigh, clutching the book tighter to her chest. She listened to his explanation, nodding slowly.

Well, way to be presumptuous, she thought, biting her lower lip and biting at the loose skin there. Some of it came off and she started to bleed a little, though she did not really notice. Her focus was on his words and facial expression, which both reflected frustration. She wondered if it was what she had said or done and she snorted, shaking her head. Now I feel bad for assuming… This guy is really having an effect on me for no real reason. Her thoughts were disgruntled and she wanted to walk away to shake off the guilt she was feeling. However, she did not want to do that; it was as if she was glued to the spot. Blood continued to bead on her lip as she chewed at her chapped lower lip. The skin had been chapped since it had been winter in her home and her lips had not quite healed on the boat ride over. She had all kinds of bad habits that she often overlooked because she did not think they were very important.

“Ah, okay. L-listen, I’m sorry… I’ve been really cruel to you and you don’t deserve it and-”

She stopped speaking when he started to get angry at himself. The flames flared again and she looked around, desperate to find something to put the flames out with. Of course, I meet the fire bender in the middle of the court yard with grass and f------ rocks! she thought. Without thinking, she darted forward and grabbed his arms, though not his hands because she could see very clearly that they were on fire. She huffed softly, looking at him and trying to get him to calm down. Burning yourself is not going to help anyone, she thought, clenching her jaw before letting it go. Looking angry would not help her situation at all, so she tried to breathe in and out through her nose so that she did not lose control of her emotions. It would help her powers, that was for sure. She hummed softly, looking at him.

“Hey, hey, take it easy… Getting angry at yourself for my stupidity isn’t going to help you.”

She let out a soft sigh, sitting beside him in the grass and placing one of her pale hands on one of his charred ones. She closed her eyes again, projecting another small amount of green aura onto his hand before wobbling again. She was going to try and do something right for once, even if it killed her. Which is entirely possible, she thought dryly, her vision swimming before her.

“‘S okay… M’yb if I w’sn’t sch a b----, then m’by w’dv g’tt’n along…”

Her statement trailed off as she fell backwards into the grass, passing out once again. This time, she was out for ten minutes, though she had managed to heal all of the charring on his one hand.

[Stephen Paulinski]

     What a great day, Stephen thought sarcastically. All he had tried to do all day was be nice to people and make friends, and what did he have to show for it? Almost getting into a fight, being tranquilized, and scaring a pretty girl away from him. Deep down, Stephen hoped against hope that all of this was some kind of surreal nightmare and that he would wake up back at home, with everything back to normal. No Ashford, no guy to fight, no girl to embarrass, no white hair, no powers...

     Stephen felt a sudden wave of pain flow up his arm in response to some sort of pressure. He looked and saw something that pleasantly surprised him: a small, feminine hand resting on top of his. Camila's silky white skin sharply contrasted the black, peeling skin of his mangled hand. A moment later, their touching hands became enveloped in a green light. Stephen’s accelerated healing began working overdrive, the skin almost scabbing over immediately. No sooner had the scabs healed over had they fallen off, being replaced by new, healthy, pink skin.

     Stephen flexed his newly healed hand. It was as good as new. He smiled, turning his head to look at Camila and thank her. She met his gaze with a drunken look.

     “‘S okay… M’yb if I w’sn’t sch a b----, then m’by w’dv g’tt’n along…”

     Oh no…, Stephen dreaded, Not again. Stephen looked at his hands. One might have been healed, but the other was still completely unusable. It did not matter how light Camila was, there was no way Stephen would be able to stop her fall by grabbing her with one hand.
Stephen’s next move was done completely without thinking. Guessing where she would land, Stephen threw his body on the ground, holding both hands up in preparation to catch her. All of Camila’s dead weight landed on his hands. The one that she had healed was able to handle it, the other one, on the other hand…

     Stephen clenched his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. Even so, a quiet, “MMMMMMMMMMM!!!” escaped his lips. You better be grateful for this, Camila Reyes, he thought bitterly. His expression softened when he looked at her face.

     She looks so peaceful, he mused, even though she did just knock herself out. By this second time, Stephen deduced that the girl’s powers were the source of her constant visits to Dreamville. Once he had figured this out, Stephen felt a mix of compassion and thankfulness. She must have known that her powers cause her to pass out, he thought, yet she used them to help me. Stephen got up, and placed the girl gently on the grass next to him. He brushed a stray curly brown lock away from her face. “Thank you, Camila Reyes,” he whispered.

     Stephen stayed with her until she finally came to. Within that time, Stephen’s mangled hand healed. Stephen gave her a weak smile as her eyes fluttered open. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty.” Stephen tried not to show that he had been rehearsing that line for the past five minutes. “Are you feeling okay? Does this, uh, happen often?”

[Camila Reyes]

The grass tickled the back of her legs as she sat down and she shifted a little to place her hand on his. She stared at the aura glowing over his hand and tilted her head. Her bangs fell into her face and she huffed under her breath and pushed them aside with the other hand. She had only found out about the healing aura recently and that was the reason she kept fainting so much. Stupid powers, she thought to herself, focusing on the jarring contrast of pale cream against charred black surrounded by forest green. Well, that would have sounded really stupid if I ever said that out loud, she mused as she noticed scabs starting to form and fall off. She wondered how on earth he managed to heal so fast, considering she had passed out four times while trying to heal the giant gash along her calf. Even then, she was still sent to the infirmary for possible stitches and observation because she could not heal the wound completely. A scowl crossed her lips at the thought, but the dizzy spell set in and she started to wobble a little, knowing what was coming next.

She had not meant to sound like she was absolutely trashed, but that was indeed what she sounded like. She was passed out for the entire ten minutes and did not feel anything. She did not feel someone catching her or hear the muffled yell of pain echoing in her ear. She did not even feel the grass tickle her legs again as Stephen placed her down on the grass next to him. Her eyes remained closed and her chest moved up and down in a natural rhythm. It was almost as if she had fallen asleep and was floating in a dream instead of fainted and trying to swim up from the murky depths of unconsciousness. The first thing she felt after “waking up” was the gentle feeling of something being brushed off her face by a calloused hand. She kept her eyes closed in that moment, though, as if opening them would startle him You better be thankful… That’s twice I’ve fainted in one day! she thought begrudgingly as her eyes fluttered open. The look of concern mixed with jest tossed her into a sea of confusion. Why was he being so nice to her despite the fact that she was being nothing a belligerent little brat? The only thought that she had was that he felt bad for her, which was entirely possible.


“Only when I use my powers too much... My expertise is being the most ungraceful girl in existence.”

Her statement was punctuated by a chuckle. When she was trying to inject humor into a situation, she always turned the jokes on herself. Someone who knew about her slight superiority complex would probably find this a bit odd, but it was something that she felt she had to do. It was almost like she was trying to even out a scale. The world will never be balanced, she thought, looking at the grass between her fingertips, Not while I exist, at least... A frown crossed her lips as she idly twirled a piece of grass around her finger. She shook her head, as if to banish the thought. She knew that thoughts like that would send her spiraling down a bad path, but she also knew that it could have been much, much worse. She let out a soft sigh and looked over at him, trying to hide the overwhelming emotions she was bottling up. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. What did she have to say to him? Saying thank you would be a start, she thought, still looking at the green grass between her fingers.


“Also, you can just call me Camila, if you like. You pronounce r weird... You kinda have to roll it, if you know what I mean.”


She said this matter-of-factly, as if everyone should know it. Of course, she did often forget to take into account that not everyone was as gifted in some areas as she was.

[Stephen Paulinski]

     “Only when I use my powers too much... My expertise is being the most ungraceful girl in existence.”

     Stephen felt his stomach turn lightly when Camila said this. He did not like it when people turned jokes on themselves, especially if they seemed to dislike themselves. This girl certainly seemed like one of those people. She seemed angry at herself, at the world, at everything. Stephen hoped that he could help her through whatever was bothering her. It was then he remembered his original mission.

     “Also, you can just call me Camila, if you like. You pronounce r weird... You kinda have to roll it, if you know what I mean.”

     Stephen smirked and let out a quiet chuckle. “Okay,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “Whatever you say Ms. 'Just call me Camila because you pronounce "r" weird.'”

     Stephen coughed a little into his fist before changing his tone from light and joking to serious and concerned.  Stephen looked into Camila's eyes, gave her a comforting smile, and spoke in a quiet, calm voice.

     “So, um… awkward segway...” Stephen mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, “Did you want to talk to me about what’s bothering you? I’m willing to listen and I promise I will help as much as I can.”