Chương 24: Chapter 23

Tiff watched Candice as the day wore on. Not because she wanted to be creepy or frighten the poor girl, but because Tiff was genuinely interested in what made Candice tick. As loath as Tiff was to admit it, she didn't have any close friends. She had acquaintances, people she knew by sight and could reliably attach a name to, but nobody she shared her life deeply with. The closest thing she had to that was her family, her sisters.

What she was experiencing with Candice these last few weeks wasn't anything close to the bond she shared with Victoria or Amy… and, honestly, Tiff wasn't sure that was something she even wanted. But she found, after being exposed to the bright and bubbly girl, that she wouldn't mind if it went a little deeper. Candice seemed adept at navigating social situations in a way Tiff didn't think was possible.

Not that Candice was some sort of maestro in the public scene or a god of rizz, but for Tiff, it was definitely off the table. Talking to people was hard. Especially when each interaction needed to be tailored to the specific group or clique she was interacting with. Such as…. How she was politely neutral when addressing a teacher. How she slipped on a veneer of cheerful friendliness but was actually super catty when trading barbs with a perceived rival.

How she blatantly ignored a few idiots who were clearly staring at something other than her face when trying to strike up a conversation. How, in turn, she poured on the charm when she attempted to flirt with the football players… or one of them, in particular. The boy was a tall, handsome fellow, Tiff could admit, even if he fell short of the bar set by a certain doctor. His face was too smooth and he lacked the ruggedness that came with the roughness and density of life.

Also, Tiff wasn't a fashion expert by any means, but what was he doing with his hair? He was obviously going for the "bleached tips" look, but it just made him look like he'd gone swimming in a pool with too much chlorine. Or, better yet, with the brown roots of his natural hair, it was like the top of his head was a used Q-tip cotton swab, but upside down. In Tiff's considerable opinion, Candice could do better. But who was Tiff to judge? At least his jacket looked cool.

Tiff couldn't follow Candice everywhere, however. They didn't share every class, and there were some places Tiff simply didn't want to go, even if it was socially acceptable. For instance, if she didn't need to pee, she had no desire to hang out in the restroom. So she turned her mind to other things. Such as football. She was really doing this, wasn't she? Going to a game? Tiff gave Candice her word, so she couldn't back out now… but what was she supposed to do?

Tiff couldn't even lie; how was she supposed to muster up the energy to care about a sport featuring sweaty dudes slamming into each other? Then again, to a specific subset of people, that was highly appealing. Thinking of football made Tiff wonder: did athletes get Quests? She assumed so, since they deliberately covered the fact that even Citizens received Quests in IPSS today. But how specialized were they?

So far, all of Tiff's Quests had been highly specific, such as "watch that guy get mugged" or variations thereof. Did a quarterback get a Quest to make a touchdown? Did they fail if they lost the game? Did they gain Fame for scoring points and Infamy if they fumbled? Fandoms could be very opinionated in their chosen field, and Tiff could see a world in which a player who was vilified for making a terrible play could actually grow darker on the Greyscale. But that was probably just her imagination speaking.

Losing a game had nothing to do with morality. … unless betting was involved. Maybe there was something to this….

"You look like you're plotting something." Tiff looked up to see Amy sitting down across from her at lunch. None of her friends were with her, but Candice wasn't anywhere to be seen either.

"Hm?" Tiff asked. She wasn't plotting…unless figuring out which bite of her bagel sandwich to save for last so she could savor the taste was plotting. Then she was definitely plotting.

"You've got this look on your face that says, ' yes, yes…good, goooood,' while petting one of those super fluffy, perpetually grumpy cats. Only, instead of a cat, it's half a bagel."

"I'll have you know there's also ham and cheese on this bagel," Tiff declared.

"And I don't have to be plotting anything. I'm just sitting here eating lunch. What are you doing?"

"Plotting," Amy said with a mischievous grin.

"One of us has to."

"But seriously, Amy, what are you up to? You never join me at lunch."

"Eh," Amy shrugged.

"I wanted to see what it was like at the evil table."

"Excuse me?" Tiff spluttered.

"There is nothing evil about my table."

"The fact that this is your table in a crowded cafeteria is kinda evil, Tiff," Amy smirked.

"You've even gained a minion recently."

"I do not have minions," Tiff denied, nomming grumpily on her bagel.

"Candice is a cheerleader."

"Hey, I'm not saying those are mutually exclusive," Amy said.

"And speaking of which…are you really going to the football game?"

"Yes," Tiff nodded.

"I told Candice I would."

"Yeesh," Amy shook her head.

"That's brave of you." Tiff glanced up and gave Amy a hairy eyeball.

"Just sayin'. For your first ever game? That's a doozy. You're more of a… stay-at-home kind of gal."

"What's different about tonight?"

"Tiff, I know you can be a bit oblivious," Amy said gently, "And that's because you don't care about things that don't interest you. But are you serious right now?"

"You know about my Quirk, Amy," Tiff sighed.

"What's different about tonight?"

"It's homecoming, Tiff," Amy shook her head.

"There's posters and banners and everything. They've been talking about it on the morning announcements since school started. It's going to be packed."

"Ah," Tiff felt herself wilt.

"I thought they were advertising the dance."

"Well, there's that too," Amy shrugged.

"But I'm really certain I'd never see you go to that either. Well, good chat, sis. I'm off to tell the gang you aren't taking over the school today!" Amy bounced up and waved behind her as she scooted across the room.

"Amy!" Tiff called after her.

"You can't be-... whatever." Tiff gave it 50-50 that Amy was telling the truth…and who-knew-what odds that her friends thought she was joking. Not that Tiff was planning anything of the sort!

"Ugh," another voice interrupted Tiff's peaceful lunch. This time, she knew exactly who it was, because she watched the girl travel toward her from across the cafeteria.

"Tough class?" Tiff asked. Candice merely grunted like a caveman and slammed her fork into some meatloaf.

"What was your last class, anyway?" Tiff asked. Pre-lunch was electives, and she just had Spanish. Not that she was actually learning anything, since their original teacher just went on maternity leave and the new sub was only concerned that the class, as a whole, could say, "Yo quiero Taco Bell."

"Trigonometry and Calc," Candice groaned. Tiff paused, the last little chunk of bagel sandwich frozen inches from her mouth. Candice looked up and snorted.

"What? Don't tell me; are you one of those people who doesn't think cheerleaders can be smart? Like we're a bunch of airheads that can't do anything but giggle vapidly?" Tiff closed her mouth slowly and shook her head.

"No…but I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised. I'm barely passing Algebra 2. Isn't Calculus supposed to be for seniors?"

"Yup," Candice sighed heavily.

"I'm in AP. I've been in honors since middle school…my parents made me do it. They said I couldn't join the cheer team unless I had something to 'fall back on,' because they didn't think I could get a full-ride athletic scholarship, and they want me to go to UCLA. Jokes on them: I'm actually good at math and I'm gonna test into Berkeley for STEM just to spite them."

"Well…wow," Tiff said. She was impressed.

"Now I know who to beg for help come finals week."

"Ughhhhh," Candice groaned.

"It's September, Tiff. Don't talk about finals now. Or better yet? How about never?" Now that Tiff could agree to.

"I have never seen somebody so psyched up for a football game for all the wrong reasons," Victoria mused. She and Amy were both sitting on Tiff's bed, watching the girl pace back and forth like she was planning to go to war.

"Do I bring binoculars?" Tiff muttered to herself.

"Maybe I need to bring binoculars."

"I don't think she's listening," Amy grinned. The rest of the day passed in a blur and it was finally time to focus on something drastically important: the upcoming football game. If she didn't prepare accordingly, there would be dire consequences.

"I don't need pom-poms," Tiff muttered.

"The cheerleaders use those."

"Who would have guessed Tiff would have ever taken this so seriously?" Victoria mused.

"She even has a cardboard sign." Amy flipped over the piece of posterboard resting carefully against the side of Tiff's desk… and slapped her hand over her face. While some people might have made a graphic featuring the school's mascot or have a cheesy one-liner like "D-Fence," Tiff was not most people. She'd found a picture of the cheerleading team in last year's yearbook and scanned Candice's face. She'd then blown it up in all its 3-megapixel glory and printed it at 36x24.

She'd actually enlisted her dad's help to print it in 4 quadrants because they didn't have a printer that could handle poster size. She was actually quite proud of how it turned out. Finally, it was time to leave. Victoria talked Tiff out of bringing a duffel bag full of junk and narrowed it down to the hoodie she currently had slung over her shoulder, the poster, and a bottle of water. Her argument was strong: campus security generally didn't allow backpacks inside the stadium, let alone overnight bags.

Tiff and Victoria didn't eat dinner, opting to buy food at the game, and said goodbye to Rick and Amy as the two squabbled over a box of frozen chicken. Setma High might not have been the largest public high school in the area by square footage, but it was the alma mater of a relatively high-profile local Meta, so it received a decent number of grants and yearly donations. As one might expect, much of that money went into the sports programs, and the full-sized stadium was even more obvious.

While it wasn't anything remotely close to a professional team, it wasn't a large patch of grass with three-tiered metal seating and white lines painted shakily by some poor dude with a spray can. In fact, it could legitimately be called a "stadium," since it was fully enclosed, built of brick and mortar, and could seat around 10 thousand. The first time Tiff saw it when she was a freshman, she thought it was ludicrously excessive.

Then she learned that places like Texas had school stadiums that could seat 20 thousand, and she stopped caring. Besides… wasn't everything bigger in Texas? You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Victoria parked them in the structure and Tiff clutched her poster carefully to her chest. She had to admit, she was excited. The guys working security at the entrance gave her a weird look as they inspected her items, but said nothing as they let the sisters in.

Tiff flashed her student ID and Victoria got them a pair of nosebleed tickets, but she had a shrewd hunch Tiff didn't care about actually seeing the game. And, as things started ramping up as kickoff approached, Victoria was proven very right. After all, Tiff was faced nearly the opposite way from the field. Victoria watched in amusement as Tiff ignored the opening play, intent on investigating the source of all the amazing smells. They'd skipped dinner, so of course both girls were hungry. Thanks to their…

ice-cream slush fund, they could afford all the snacks they wanted. Tiff made sure the cheerleaders weren't about to perform a routine, secured her sign to her seat, and dragged Victoria to the concessions. When they returned about ten minutes later, the Hawks had just finished a scoring drive and put points up on the board. But Tiff didn't care about that, because her friend was about to take the field.

The cheerleaders were doing a routine, but Tiff was far enough away that she couldn't hear the chant they were using to pump up the crowd. As such, she didn't think that Candice would hear her when she brought out the sign. Tiff took a deep breath and filled her lungs.

"Gooooooo Candiceeeeee!!!" She yelled out at the top of her lungs. The people a few rows in front of them squawked, since there wasn't any action on the field that demanded cheering, and turned to stare at Tiff incredulously. Tiff ignored them splendidly as she waved her sign around, and Victoria nearly fell out of her seat laughing. Every time the cheerleaders got up to shake and shimmy, Tiff brought out the sign. It wasn't until the fourth time that Candice paused, looked her way, and froze.

She almost missed her part in the routine, and Tiff quickly put her sign down, grinning sheepishly. Mission accomplished. The next time somebody had the ball (Tiff didn't care who), she went down to the snack shack again. She never knew a football game was provisioned so… splendidly. Her school had a better selection than most theme parks! There were hot dogs, corn dogs, pizza slices, kettle corn, and cotton candy! Funnel cake! Her school's football game served funnel cake!

And yet the best dessert they could ever find at the cafeteria was a brownie that could be used as a stand-in for bricks! The next time the student council passed around a survey, Tiff had some choice words to say. Sadly, despite her best efforts to not care, it became obvious after some time that the Hawks were winning. Quite handily. And despite firmly believing that the scoring system in football was invented by a madman, even Tiff understood that being up 42-6 was something of a blowout.

There was a name that kept coming up time and time again on the speakers, one of Setma's star players and Candice's current crush: Ryan Romig. Tiff assumed he was the quarterback because, as far as she knew, football consisted of a quarterback and everyone else, but Victoria took the time to gently explain how things worked. Tiff forgot half of it the moment it went in one ear and out the other, but at the very least, she was able to grasp that Ryan was something called a running back and he ran. Back.

With the ball. Or something. And apparently he did it well, because people were talking about him, but Tiff didn't care that much because she had pink and blue cotton candy. And, as everybody knew, pink cotton candy was the true cotton candy, but blue cotton candy was superior in very small doses. Even if she knew it was all the same sugar spun around in a machine.

The night wore on; at halftime, the marching band came out and… actually impressed Tiff. She assumed a high school band would only sound marginally better than the middle school band, which was as close to a disaster in musical form as humans had yet discovered the ability to create. But she was wrong. They played decently enough that she recognized The Imperial March, All I Do Is Win, and Firework by Katy Perry.

Eventually, the game wound to a close, and predictably, the opposing team was unable to mount a comeback. Cheers erupted, and Tiff rubbed her full belly, considering the night a success. After the game, some crusty old guy came out to make a speech or something, but Tiff was over it. She considered waiting it out to congratulate Candice for (in her opinion) winning the game, but it looked like the players were getting awards and stuff, and Tiff could always find her later.

Besides, Victoria had drunk what looked like an entire bucket of soda and she needed to find the restroom, stat. So, while the rest of the crowd chattered cheerfully, Tiff and Victoria made their way down the bleachers and prepared to leave.

Tiff was waiting by the exit gates when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. A familiar flash of white and teal told her it was one of the cheerleader outfits, and the blonde ponytail meant it belonged to one person. That begged the question: what was Candice doing sneaking out behind the bleachers? Well, one thing very clearly popped into Tiff's mind, but for some reason Tiff didn't think the girl would stoop to such brazen… after-party celebrations while there were still so many people out.

Tiff's curiosity won out, and against her better judgment, she decided to walk closer. It might be late at night and dark out, but Tiff wasn't nervous or afraid. She was still on school grounds. The worst thing that might pop out at her was one of the stoners trying to sell or buy weed. And she wasn't getting any quests for dealing, so that outcome was unlikely. Tiff followed the girl to a romantically-cliché spot in the shadow of the stands illuminated by a single, flickering lamppost.

She was thinking of calling out to find out what Candice was doing over here when everybody else was out on the field or heading to their cars, but another motion had Tiff diving toward one of the large metal support beams. Or, well, more of an awkward shuffle. But the beam was rated to hold up those bleachers, which themselves could hold thousands of people, so it provided enough cover for Tiff to hide behind.

She peeked out from behind the corner just in time to see Candice jump into the arms of that one guy who got the ball a lot. Tiff squinted to see more clearly. This was the guy Candice was interested in, wasn't he? Yes. Running back, as Victoria explained, Ryan Romig. Apparently he was the game's mvp, or something. Tiff still thought he looked like a reverse-used-Q-tip. Tiff could see Ryan's beaming smile, no doubt in part due to the pretty girl hanging from around his neck, but also drunk on the glory of success.

He still had his uniform on; his cleats clacked on the ground as he walked, but his helmet was gone. He patted the girl on the back and Tiff felt a burst of… something well up inside her. She was happy for her friend. Candice had performed wonderfully out there, and now she was being rewarded for her efforts. Ryan swung her around once or twice before setting her down. Candice backed up and started jabbering away, but Tiff couldn't hear anything.

As the seconds trickled by, Candice seemed to lose some of her exuberance, which seemed curious to Tiff, since as far as she knew, this was supposed to be the fairytale ending, wasn't it? Isn't this what Candice was hoping for? But as Tiff decided to sneak closer, things seemed… off. Candice wasn't smiling. Her head was turned away from Ryan and her arms were crossed over her shoulders. Tiff could barely make out some of her facial features, and some of her makeup looked smudged. Had she been crying?

Or at the very least, she was clearly upset.

"... a misunderstanding," Ryan was saying in a soothing voice.

"That's not at all what I said."

"You said you were interested," Candice accused.

"And I am, Candy," Ryan put on a winning smile.

"Just not in a relationship." Candice looked furious for a moment at the nickname, but it was quickly lost under confusion.

"Then…what…?" Tiff could tell the moment Candice connected the dots. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him hatefully.

"So all the flirting, the insinuations, the…the…the implications…?" She seethed.

"You never intended to ask me out. You were going to treat me like some…what…prize? Something to be conquered?"

"Come on, Candy, don't be like that," he scoffed.

"We can hang out, have a little fun-"" Don't call me Candy!" Candice nearly shouted. Ryan had reached a hand out to try and placate her, but she batted it away before he could grab her shoulder. For a very brief moment, Ryan's face took on a dark, outraged shadow. Tiff had seen enough. She stepped out from where she'd been listening behind the pillar and walked confidently forward.

"Candice," she said clearly.

"There you are. I was wondering where you'd gone. I wanted to congratulate you on an excellent performance." Both teenagers spun toward her. Candice looked shocked and Ryan looked utterly perplexed.

"Tiff…?" Candice gasped, trying to conceal a sob. She began wiping furiously at her face, but it wasn't helping her hide anything.

"Who the heck are you?" Ryan said, nonplussed.

"Are you one of Candy's friends? Look, we're just having a private chat-""She told you not to call her that," Tiff said coldly. Both Candice and Ryan shot up in surprise, not expecting to hear something so commanding come from somebody so…unassuming.

"So?" Ryan dropped the fake smile as an ugly sneer covered his face. Tiff thought it suited him better; at least it matched what she'd heard so far more than anything else.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course," Tiff replied instantly. But it wasn't the sort of admission filled with admiration the boy was looking for. Tiff said it while looking down the length of her nose…even if she had to crane her neck backward just to look up at him.

"Ryan Romig. Senior. Star running back, and from what I understand, tonight's mvp. Well done," Tiff finished with a slow clap. A very patronizing, mockingly slow clap. The thing was, she was just starting to understand that not all labels needed to be labels. Here Candice was, beautiful and athletic, yes, but also very intelligent. She didn't fit inside the mold of cheerleader so much because she was pressed into it, but she wore it because she wanted to.

And because she wanted to, she decided to befriend an awkward girl like Theophania VanDyne. And then there was this dickwad Ryan Romig. From what Tiff had seen tonight, jocks didn't have to be jocks just like cheerleaders didn't have to be cheerleaders. They didn't need to be big, dumb, oafish pricks that gave nerds wedgies before sticking their heads in the toilet. They, too, could enjoy video games, comic books, and stuff like DnD. But Ryan Romig seemed to be embracing every cliché Tiff was trying to see past.

And she was tired of it.

"Congratulations," Tiff said, her annoyance building into a smoldering anger as her Skill kicked in and her aura leaked out.

"You win. Savor it! Because you're nothing, Ryan Romig. You're a small fish in an even smaller pond, and after tonight, when the lights go out and the noise from the field fades, all you'll be left with is memories, bitterness, and joints that act up when it gets cold outside. You won't go on to be the next big star, the million-dollar draft pick, whatever it is that people like you aspire to.

For your sake, I can only hope you paid attention to the rest of your classes and didn't flunk them all, because you'll be left with a dead-end job while Candice here goes on to get a degree in statistics or engineering. Now if you'll excuse us, we'll be leaving." Tiff reached forward, grabbed Candice by her stunned arm, and tried to pull her away from Ryan. But the jock, who'd been so flabbergasted by Tiff's scathing remarks, finally came to his senses. Or perhaps, his senses fled his body entirely.

His face burned bright with rage; he twisted his body, and he brought his arm across his chest. Tiff's eyes widened; she was shocked. Never did she imagine a student, much less an athlete with a "promising" career ahead of him, would attack her on school grounds. She watched, as if in slow motion, as he backhanded her. No. Not as if. The slap came full speed until the point of impact. But instead of smacking into her cheek, and probably laying Tiff flat out on the ground with a broken jaw… the world froze.

Time didn't stop. Tiff could see everything, including how Ryan's eyes widened with fear as they started darting left and right. The sounds from the field and the crowd still joyfully chatting about the game on the other side of the bleachers still carried on. The lights from the nearby building still flickered as they cut in and out. But a shadowy bubble of intangible smoke blew up in a sphere around them, and nobody could move.

A fraction of a second after the world froze, a thick, black line tore through reality, like a permanent marker sliding down an invisible pane of glass… or a hot knife cutting through the air itself. The line started at the impact point and grew. It rose into the air and fell to the ground. It only stopped when it stood about 7 feet tall, slightly taller than Ryan. Then the line began to widen. It grew like an oval, widening in the middle until it was perhaps 3 or 4 feet thick.

The inside of the oval was mostly transparent, but it was tinted with a blackened green, as if a sheen of water or the film of a bubble filled the gap. Tiff could see through it, and she could see the utter horror on Ryan's face. Truthfully, Tiff had no idea what was happening either, but if she was honest, she was more intrigued than anything. The portal, because that was what the oval was, did not form instantaneously.

Even though it seemed like it happened in a flash, those 2 to 3 seconds were paralyzing for the man across from her… in more ways than one. Especially as he saw what started walking out of it. A giant, black, armored terror strode confidently forth. The back of Ryan's fist collided with an armored bicep as it materialized right where Tiff was standing, pushing Tiff back slightly. It wasn't a forceful push; because the figure was coming in, Tiff had to move out. Reality adjusted her for her.

As the figure continued to step out of the portal, Tiff lost sight of Ryan's face, but she could see him start to wince as the force of impact wasn't negated, and instead of smashing down on soft, pale flesh, it met cold, hard steel. Or whatever Victoria's power suit was made of.

"Aaaaaaaghhhh!" Ryan cried out in pain, though his shout was lost underneath the dull crash of a hand slamming into metal. The world unfroze, and all three people- Tiff, Candice, and Ryan -all stumbled back. Candice fell to the ground, her hand raised over her mouth to stifle her scream, while Tiff moved around the familiar black suit to get a better look at her sister. Ryan, even though he stumbled back a foot or two, didn't seem able to go any further.

His teeth were clenched and he held his wrist limply in his other hand like he might have injured it. Tiff shrugged. That's what he got if he was going to attack her. Victoria, on the other hand, was impossible to read. Fully suited up, with the visor down and the lights on her chest flashing, nothing could be seen of her face. But she shook out her left arm as if adjusting a tight shirt, while her right hand reached up to her neck. She placed it on her chin and cracked her neck violently.

The sound sent shivers up Tiff's spine. Her visored helm swiveled to Ryan and pinned him in place.

"Huh," the deep, modulated voice oozed confidence and surety.

"Didn't see that coming."

"What…the hell?! What the hell!?!" Ryan finally choked out.

"Oh, shit, man, what the hell is this?"

"This," Tiff said matter-of-factly, "Is my bodyguard. You should leave. And don't show yourself before Candice or me ever again." Ryan didn't need to be told twice. After Tiff's dismissal, the bubble popped. He instantly took a step back, tripped, but quickly picked himself up and sprinted toward the other side of the bleachers. Tiff, Victoria, and Candice all stood stock still and watched until he was out of sight. Tiff let out a sigh of relief, but Candice… was another matter.

Tiff peered around her sister, only to find the cheerleader frozen. But unlike Ryan, Candice wasn't trying to flee for her life. Instead, she looked more like a rabbit too afraid to move, thinking that if it didn't make a sound, maybe the big scary thing wouldn't be able to see her.

"You okay there, kid?" Victoria asked, turning toward Candice.

"Ahhhhh," was all the cheerleader said as she passed out.

"Welp," Victoria said with a woosh of her visor opening.

"That could have gone better. Next time, let me pee in peace. Heck of a way to find out this thing has filtration."