Super Is A State Of Mind ((Original Group Story))

Nobody ever means to do anything wrong. Nobody ever means for things to go spiraling out of control. But sometimes things happen, and sometimes things do, and it is up to you to make things right. One thoughtless act can send everything you know into a dark, dangerous place. And you have to fight to get free.

Kierie Bradner: littletoes32

Rose Arcus, chapters 2-10: RachelMarie1

Rose Arcus, chapters 12 and on: lighthousepaint97

Chapter 3

Chapter Two: Kierie

I pushed hard on a textbook, obsessively trying to make it fit into the bag I carried around from class to class. But of course, it just didn't go and I cursed at it. What could I take out to make it all fit? Sliding my chemistry book back out of the bag, I took out a few notebooks. I tried again and when it only went in half way, a quick "Son of a bxtch!" escaped my mouth.

"Having some issues there?" said a sly, joking voice. I looked up from my somewhat defeated position on the ground before my locker and glared at Adam, leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed.

"Don't make fun of me," I snapped, throwing another notebook haphazardly into the bottom of my locker.

He grinned, the action crinkling his face--particularly his eyes--into an image familiar to me. "Why don't you just carry it?"

"Because, Adam, that's not how--"

He uncrossed his arms. "Yeah, yeah, Ree, that's not how it works. I know." He knelt down beside me and held out one hand. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at the bag.

I sigh. "Go for it, if you think you're such a genius." He smiled a little and I gave him the bag. I watched as Adam rummaged through it, removing various loose papers and even my free reading book. "Hey, put that back! I want that there!" I ordered him, looking at him sternly.

Adam flicked his gaze up for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "Since when do you ever have time to read--" He paused, looked at the cover, the book jacket. "--some stereotypical YA book about self-discovery and death in chemistry class?" Adam flipped through the pages scornfully, with obvious distaste. "Why can't you read normal books like the rest of the world?"

I snatched the book from his unworthy hands. "This is a normal book! YA fiction is extremely popular now and this is definitely better than that gory psychopathic crap you read." I stroked the cover of my book lovingly, as if in apology, before begrudgingly putting it into my locker.

Adam seemed to be personally offended. "Stephen King is not gory psychopathic crap. It may be gory and it could possibly be slightly psychopathic, but it's not crap. That shxt is literature. But that shxt--" Adam pointed into my locker. "--is just one among a million, the plots all the same."

I finally managed to jam my chemistry book into my bag. I slammed my locker shut and then turned on Adam. "If you value your life, you won't say another word." I stood and slung my bag onto my back.

Adam, quick to smile, had already forgotten the slur against his idol. "I think I'll take my chances, my dear girl," he said with a heavily affected unidentifiable accent of some sort. "Let's get to class." Adam shifted his books to his other side and offered me his arm. I took it, linking our elbows with a smile.

It was a bit of a surprise to find the new girl--what was her name? Rose, I believe--sitting in the front row in the science room. I hadn't had any classes with her all day so I'd just assumed we wouldn't have any at all. "She's sitting in my spot," Adam whispered to me in childish irritation. "That's my spot!" he called from the doorway, catching Rose's attention.

Her face relaxed in momentary relief--possibly because she knew us--before her eyes widened. "I, um," she stuttered. "I can move, if you want, I mean, I didn't know that, uh..." Rose started to stand, appearing more than a little panicked.

"Sit down, Rose, he's joking," I told her. "Right, Adam?" I glowered at him, hoping he'd get the message.

"But--"

"/Right, Adam/?"

"Yeah. Right. I was just joking. Ha, ha." He looked at me dejectedly but my only response was to slip my arm out from his and loosely grab his wrist. "That's my spot, and she's sitting in it," Adam hissed at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Get over it, Adam. You can find a new spot." I dragged him over to Rose so we could sit. I slid into the seat beside Rose and Adam thumped down in the desk beside me, grumbling to himself about the loss of his beloved seat. Rose looked at him and then back at me, questioning without saying a word. "Don't mind him. He's being a big baby." She nodded but didn't look convinced.

"Shut up, Kierie. I am not." A ball of crumpled paper nailed me in the back of the head.

"Exhibit A," Rose mused, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I laughed, probably louder than the situation called for, but any chance to stick it to Adam was a chance I wanted to take. Another ball of paper.

Somebody cleared their throat. "I'm assuming you'll be cleaning that up, Mr. Heider?"

My head snapped to the front of the classroom, and there stood Mr. Miller, the chemistry teacher. "Crap," Adam muttered. "Uh, yes, Mr. Miller, sir." I made eye contact with Rose and I choked back more laughter.

"That means now, Adam." Mr. Miller leaned against his podium and raised an eyebrow. "And don't suck up. It's unattractive. Right, ladies?" He looked to us for confirmation.

"Totally, Mr. Miller. But Adam's unattractive most of the time so you can't really tell," I replied as Rose clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter and snickers from the other students echoed behind us.

Mr. Miller grinned. "Anything to say to that, Adam?" Adam opened his mouth to retort, but thinking the better of it, closed his mouth. He glared at me and I smiled brightly back. He scooped up the paper projectiles and stuck them into my backpack.

"For you," he growled.

Mr. Miller clapped his hands to signal the start of class. "Okay, guys. If somebody wants to help me pass out the corrected tests we can get started on our next unit on reactivity..." I turned to Adam, who was staring down at the desktop.

"Don't be mad, Adam," I whispered.

He looked up. "I'm not, really," he whispered in reply. "I just want my seat back."

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