Powerless Revision 1 (11 page)

Seeing only a few spots and drips on her, Mira hypothesized that she must be close to the best in that respect. She’d kept a strong pace, and so she had to be gaining on the leaders too, who possessed no special endurance to her knowledge.

Swinging around another bend, the trail suddenly split into three. Arrows pointed down each of the three trails. Jogging in place, she strained to figure out which was the correct trail. She quickly noticed that the trail on the left had no paint, the trail in the middle had some, and the trail to the right had paint on every surface, dripping from above, and covering the brambles and ground. Only a few stepping-stones appeared safe.

Pressure swelled inside of her and her heart raced. “Which way?” she said aloud. Tracks led off in each direction, meaning that if she chose the right way she would be sure to advance a few places. She tried to think about what Fortst did.

“He wouldn’t have wasted much time putting paint on a trail that wasn’t the right one, would he?”

Satisfied with her logic, and hearing footsteps behind her, she went for the painted trail on the right. She hopped from stone to stone, unavoidably getting paint on her shoes. She almost lost her balance once, and so she had to reach out and put her hand on a bright red tree trunk. It felt disgusting, both because it made her fingers stick together and because it hurt her standing.

She heard students at the intersection behind her. They too puzzled over which direction to take. She turned back and called to them.

“It’s this way!” she hollered, thinking it better to have them behind her than possibly pick the right trail if she were wrong. They responded and took to the painted trail, which proved more difficult for them to navigate because only one student could fit on a stepping-stone at a time. Almost nearing the end, Mira heard an argument break out amongst them. If it led to a scuffle, they would surely be out of the game.

Hopping over the last stretch of paint, she resumed her frantic pace. The trail turned to the left and immediately rejoined with the other splits in the path.

“You can’t be serious!” she groaned. She took a quick but longing look at the paint-free left trail that she could have quickly and easily taken. Pushing down the path for another ten minutes, she felt like she did when she had run around the trails in the woods behind her home. Remembering the undulations, she picked up speed and felt like she could hold it forever.

She wished her parents could come down to see her or she could run home for a snack. The trail straightened out and she saw Vern and Aoi in front of her. “Please start fighting,” she pleaded in her mind. Farther down the trail she could see Fortst and the finish.

Mira sprinted after them as fast as her legs could carry her, but they were just too far ahead and there was not enough room to catch up. As she closed on the finish, she saw that Roselyn had finished first, and she watched Vern and Aoi pass Rowland in the final stretch.

Crossing the line, she took a few hobbled steps and gasped for breath. Fortst seemed impressed with her finish though, and he gave her an encouraging cheer. Mira started scanning those who finished before her for paint to see if she might actually be ahead of them. Rowland had a fair amount on him, but the others seemed almost clean.

“Mr. Fortst, did you say you would measure how much paint people had at the end of the race or the end of the day?” she asked.

“We’ll do all that when we get back to the schoolhouse after lunch,” he said.

A few more students made their way down the final stretch, and all those who had finished, except Mira, came over to cheer on their friends. Some of those coming in had red paint covering every inch of their bodies. After finishing, they tried to squeeze it out of their clothes. Slower students started coming in, those who were dead tired and those who had spent more time fighting than running. The class’s big men, Dennis and Chucky, came in long after, walking down the final stretch.

“Yay!” they cheered, faking enthusiasm while Fortst gave them harsh glances. Chucky was covered in smeary, thick oil. Mira chuckled, realizing why everyone always called him “Mucky Chucky.”

Now that everyone had returned, the students dug through their packs for lunch. Trying their best not to add a healthy amount of red paint to their food, they used leaves to help with the handling. Most of the students sat together in the short grass, avoiding the potholes, and a few sat in the shade. Mira sat alone up against the trunk of a tree. She nibbled at her food with her paint-free hand and watched the other students.

After a while Aoi walked across her line of sight. Mira scrambled to put down her food and stand up.

“It’s too bad all that strength can’t help you do something about those front teeth!”

“What did you say?” Aoi said, astonished and stopping dead to turn and face Mira.

“If you were any smaller people might mistake you for a rabbit.” Mira crossed her arms and stuck her chin out.

“You never done anything so dumb in your whole life!” Aoi said, clenching her fists and striding up to Mira.

“What’s that? No, I don’t have any cheese, little miss mouse,” she retorted, putting her hand to her ear.

“You asked for it!” Aoi cocked her fist back and jerked it forward, but Mira ducked out of the way and Aoi’s punch struck the tree. The bark cracked and the tree shook. A bucket of paint, tied to the branch right above Aoi with a tape measure, shook loose and dumped its contents down on Aoi’s head. She froze in shock when the cold, wet substance splattered down on her head and shoulders. Everyone turned to look.

“You better have another trick up your sleeve because you’re in big trouble now!” she screamed. But Mira did not have another trick, and her face turned grave and pale. Aoi effortlessly launched Mira through the air with a sideways push, which sent her flying into the trunk of another tree. She collided with it and came down hard on her ankle.

Before she had time to move, Aoi was on her again. A terrifying look in her eyes, she cocked her fist back for another punch, but this time Forst stepped in. He caught her punch with one hand and lifted her by the stomach with the other. Aoi rocketed upwards, snapping a few twiggy branches and clearing the top of the tree by twenty feet.

“No fighting!” Fortst bellowed, while Aoi’s ascension slowed. She hung weightlessly in the air for a moment before quickly falling back down into Fortst’s arms. He set her down and looked at the girls. Mira couldn’t get up and tears trickled down her cheeks, even though she restrained herself from any overt pouting.

“What’s the problem here?” he said. “You better believe I’m not one to miss out on a fight, so the next one who starts anything will have to take me on as well!”

Fortst looked to make sure all the students were listening, and Aoi returned to the group.

“Ok, let’s pack everything up and head back to the school house!” he ordered. He started to walk away when Mira spoke up.

“I can’t get up,” she said, muffling her sniffling. Fortst jerked back and took a look at her ankle, already red and swollen.

“This looks serious. We’d better get you home as quickly as possible.”

Carrying her on his shoulder, Fortst marched through the woods. The students, still wearing the paint they couldn’t rub off, followed behind. Arriving at the school, the students lined up so Fortst could announce the winners. At the end of the line, Mira sat down on the grass. Her nerves built up in anticipation of the results.

“Everyone did a great job today. I’ll turn you lot into fearsome fighters yet! So, finishing in first place is Roselyn!” The students clapped weakly as Roselyn stepped out of the line to join Fortst. “For second place, Vern beat out Aoi by a hair. There you have it, the three captains for the team competition!”

“Wait a second!” Mira burst out. “Aoi is soaked in paint and she couldn’t have finished more than fifteen or twenty seconds ahead of me! And Rowland only had me by ten seconds and he has a lot more paint too. How much paint equals how much time?”

“Ehhh heh heh. That’s a good question,” Fortst said. He looked around sheepishly. “Enough to give you fourth place. Congratulations!”

Trying to get out of this sticky situation as quickly as possible, he promptly dismissed the class. The students, excited about the weekend, ran in all directions as they gathered their things and prepared to leave. Mira, steaming, remained stranded on the ground.

“The least you could do is carry me home!” she shouted. Up on his shoulder, the only thing that could distract her from the pain of her ankle was imagining ways to get back at the man who carried her. If he had to learn to take her seriously too, then so be it.

Jeana met them upon Mira’s return and immediately flew into a raging panic.

“What happened? Where did all this blood come from? How could you let this happen, Mr. Fortst? Of all the irresponsible things!”

“It’s just paint, Mom, not blood. I did hurt my ankle though, and I can’t walk on it.”

The bloodthirsty look that Jeana had made Fortst recoil with more discomfort than he had back at the schoolhouse.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home ok. Great job today,” Fortst muttered, turning tail to run for it and not daring to look back.

***

Mira couldn’t get out of bed the next morning. It didn’t help that the pain prevented her from staying asleep no matter how many times her mother worked her magic on her. Restlessly, she twisted and turned but couldn’t find a comfortable position. She wished for anything, anything that would make the pain go away.

Soon the darkness receded from her room and the sun shone through the window. Jeana said she would run into town, dragging the healer against her will if necessary. While waiting for her mother to return, Kevin kept her company, feeding her breakfast and playing silly games with her.

“Finally!” Mira exclaimed when she heard the front door open. Creaking steps meant they were ascending the stairs, and soon Jeana and another woman entered Mira’s bedroom.

“Hi, I’m Nora the healer,” the other woman said. She only had hair on the left side of her head, the length of which gradually increased the closer it got to her ear.

“Hi,” Mira replied, barely able to look away from her ragged, patchy hair.

“What seems to be the problem?” Nora asked.

“My ankle has transformed into a tomato. Ok, that was a joke. Sorry. It just really hurts and I think it’s broken,” she said.

“Ok, well either way I have just the thing for you,” she said.

“How do you heal, exactly?” Jeana asked.

“It’s pretty simple. She just needs some of my protein.” Nora took a pair of scissors out of her pocket and cut a hunk of hair from her head. She held the clump of scraggly hair in her hand.

“I recommend you cook it in something so it goes down easier.”

“How interesting,” Jeana said.

“Are you saying I need to eat that for my ankle to get better? I don’t think so!”

“Yes, it is interesting,” Nora replied to Jeana. “But you know I heard that with the healer in Darmen all you have to do is get in some water with him to be healed.”

“How far away is Darmen? Let’s go there!” Mira pleaded.

“Oh, it’s much too far,” Jeana said. “This is your best option.”

“You know, the body does heal itself. I could just wait it out.”

Nora looked at the inflamed ankle and stuck out a finger to poke it.

“Oww!” Mira yelped, which made her think of who had caused this injury.

“I don’t know. It looks pretty bad. You might have to stay in bed for weeks or months for it to recover fully.”

Disappointed and annoyed, Mira gave in.

“Ok, fine. Let’s get this over with. This is the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“I’ll put it in anything you want. How about your favorite, chocolate chip cookies?” Jeana asked.

“No, I think it would ruin them for me forever. Just throw it in some eggs or something. Might as well be something slimy and gross to begin with.”

Jeana returned a short time later with a plate of scrambled eggs. The hair poked out in all directions and the plate had a strange smell. Mira already felt she would be sick to her stomach.

“Ok, choke it down and you’ll be better in no time,” Nora cheered enthusiastically.

Mira raised a forkful of the yellow and brown concoction to her mouth. She had a horrid grimace, and having her parents and this strange woman watch her made it worse. Closing her eyes, she stuck the fork inside and immediately felt the hairs slide along the roof of her mouth. It tasted like old mayonnaise and rotten fish. She chomped down once and tried to swallow. The snaky hairs slithered down her throat.

“Yuck!”

“Don’t stop now. You’ve got to finish the plate.”

“I wouldn’t have to be doing this if I had something to defend myself with,” she said between mouthfuls. “And I’ve been thinking that the best thing would be if I didn’t have to fight at all and something else fought in my place.”

“You’ve got to be careful. Look at what happened to you yesterday,” Jeana said.

“I’m not any more fragile than anyone else. It’s just that they can inflict so much more damage. Some of them don’t even have powers that have anything to do with fighting, and so they’re in no better a position than I am. There’s this one girl, Mary, who doesn’t even know what her power is.”