School was a bad idea. Taylor didn’t know what she was thinking when she had left that morning.

The more time she spent away from home, the worse the gnawing guilt in her stomach grew. She found it hard to focus in class, and the breaks between classes were spent fretting.

She had made a mistake.

Not a huge one, she figured, but definitely a mistake. She tried to think of other things. If she was a parahuman, a fact that she was still on the fence about, then that wasn’t the kind of thing she should be ignoring. But there she was, at school instead of at home trying to learn about her power.

Her pre-lunch class with Misses Knott was spent on PHO while trying to get an inkling of what was going on. If Cheshire was part of her, and judging by the tingle in her stomach at the thought of the little girl that was the case, then she was probably a projection, or something of the sort. Maybe.

Projections were usually some sort of energy thing, and Cheshire was pretty real-looking.

She ended up giving up on the search.

Every post and thread about finding out if you were a parahuman ended with some PRT agent’s post about visiting the local branch to find out. The constant transparent advertising was getting to her.

When the lunch bell rang, Taylor left to find a place to eat. She was aiming for one of the bathrooms on the second floor, but she found one of Emma’s friends washing her hands there and decided not to risk it.

So out she went, enjoying the fresh if humid early spring air while beelining for one of the benches next to the school. In the warmer months it would be a hang out spot for some of the older students, but there weren’t many who were willing to brave the slight chill just to eat under the sun.

She was halfway through her sandwich when she heard feet rustling through the grass behind her. She closed her eyes and hoped the sinking feeling that came over her was a false alarm.

“Poor Taylor,” Emma’s smooth voice said from over her shoulder. “Eating out here, all alone,” she said with false pity.

“Emma, leave me alone,” Taylor said.

“It’s a wonder that they let you eat so close to the school. You know, dogs aren’t allowed on school property.”

Taylor ignored the laughter of Emma’s friends, though she did notice that Sophia wasn’t around. She was probably waiting to ambush her when she went back in.

“What’s wrong, Tay Tay? Wanna go back to cry to your mommy. Oh, wait, that’s right,” Emma said.

Taylor’s hands balled into fists and she was ready to turn around and run off when the sound of footsteps running across the grass to her side made her turn. There was a black blur that resolved into a running Cheshire.

The girl was moving so fast that when she stopped her feet left a furrow in the grass. “Bitch! Don’t talk to my big sis like that!”

Cheshire’s right leg swung way, way back, then came shooting forwards in a kick that lifted the girl off the ground. The end of her foot connected between Emma’s legs with a dull thud.

Taylor was in just the right position to see the confusion chased by pain wash across Emma’s face before all the blood was drained away and she crashed to the ground with a wordless shriek.

“Yeah, that’s right, ye’r a bitch!” Cheshire spat down at her.

Taylor shot out of her seat, hands going towards Emma who was rolling in the grass. She paused, at a complete loss. This was not a situation she had ever prepared for.

Emma’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do either, and for a panicked moment everyone just stared as Emma cried and grabbed at her crotch.

“We, we should call the police,” one of the girls--Madison, maybe--said.

“Oh shit,” Cheshire replied, eyes going wide.

Decision made, Taylor grabbed Cheshire by the wrist and started walking away at a brisk pace that had the girl jogging to keep up. “What the fu-heck was that?” Taylor hissed.

“I was tryin’ to protect ya, moron,” Cheshire said.

“I don’t need protecting,” Taylor shot back as she stepped off the school lot and onto the sidewalk before the school. She looked both ways, then dragged Cheshire across the road with her. “I was fine on my own. What were you even doing there?”

“Yeah, sure ya were. And I was bored.”

“Bored? You left the house because you were bored?” Taylor felt that she couldn’t be blamed for the note of desperation in her voice.

“Yeah.”

Taylor’s grip grew a little more firm. She didn’t know where she was going, exactly, but it was away from Winslow and whatever trouble Cheshire had just caused for her. “We need to have a talk about you just kicking people.”

“I ain’t just kick someone, I kicked that bitch because she was being a bitch at you.”

“Could you stop saying bitch?” Taylor asked.

“Don’t wanna... bitch.”

Taylor had the impression that any kind of arguing would end in an endless back and forth that would lead nowhere, so she held her tongue. As soon as they were a few blocks away she let go of Cheshire and slowed her walk to a more reasonable pace.

“So, now what?” Cheshire asked.

“I don’t know,” Taylor said. Her things were all back in school. She didn’t want to go get them. She also didn’t know what to do about Cheshire. “I really don’t know.”

“Hmph,” Cheshire said as she crossed her arms. “Ice cream.”

“What?” Taylor asked.

Cheshire glared up at her, pout in full display. “I help ya, now ya go to pay me. I want ice cream... and headpats.”

Taylor scrunched up her eyes. “You know what, screw it. I want ice cream too.” And Cheshire wouldn’t be able to run away from her questions if she had food in front of her. Probably.