Awakening

[Amy Copperfield]

Damn straight, anything could happen. That was Mr. Copperfield's biggest worry. If this woman was right - if what had supposedly happened was true - it didn't mean that his daughter was any less susceptible to others. For one thing, while the move would be made slightly easier (if she made it) because she didn't really have any friends (or so she'd said more than once), people did know who she was and moving from one school to another was not easy. For another, she was still an asthmatic who did about as well in school as a chimp who'd never interacted with humans.

...okay, maybe that was unfair to her. More than a little. It wasn't that he was trying to be mean - but to be honest, she was a mediocre student at best. And in a place where everyone seemed to be able to do something far beyond usual human ability? That was still something of a revelation to the elder Copperfield, no matter how many years ago he'd discovered that people with abnormal DNA existed.

And here was another crucial fact: Amy's father was pretty much the only one that kept her sane. They might not've been best friends the way a pair of girls would have been, but they were certainly closer than some of the other families around town. But Samuel had another problem entirely that affected both him and his daughter.

"I can't leave my job," he said finally. "I can't just pack up and go. I don't own much anymore, but I own this house and right now, it's the only thing my daughter really owns as a result."

A bit of defensive anger was creeping into his voice now, as well it should in the case of any parent when his child's future was at stake.

"Yet you want to uproot my daughter because of an ability she supposedly has. You want to move her half-way across the country to a place I've never heard of in a state I've never been to. And you just expect the pair of us to be all right with this? You don't just barge into someone's house and tell them you're taking their daughter, especially not with a story like this."

Granted, his daughter had all but confirmed the truth of what had happened with her eyes, but that was besides the point.

[Ella Tate]

Samuel's worry had been similar to the parents of the girl Ella had recruited weeks ago; a pyro. That had actually been their biggest worry since they hadn't lived the cushiest life ever and they were sending their eldest away to a place where they weren't going to see each other except on holidays.

"I completely understand your concerns, Mr. Copperfield but as it is with other boarding schools, you wouldn't have to leave here. This will always be where Amy comes back during holidays. Shuttle will be provided and the trip won't even be more than a couple hours."

Ella maintained her cool even when Samuel's rant took a defensive turn. "Mr. Copperfield, I assure you, your daughter will be in good hands and her ability will be nurtured to the best of our trainers' abilities." She couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the choice of words Samuel used to describe her mode of entrance to the house. "And I have no intentions of bringing your daughter to Hammel without your consent."

"You will have to also understand that if your daughter doesn't get the proper training, this would eventually happen again, whether or not her asthma goes away." Ella switched on the TV to a news station that was covering the damage. "We can help her avoid this, if you allow us to bring her over."

[Amy Copperfield]

"Oh, so you'd let me have her for holidays then, would you?"

He was angrier than ever now. The woman might have been making an attempt at sympathy, but her words had come off more like arrogance. Consent or not, this was unacceptable. How could it not be? Any parent would worry over their child, and not just their safety, but this? This was tantamount to kidnapping.

"And what if I don't give my conse--what are you...?"

It was then that Ella had picked up the remote from the couch next to Amy and turned on the TV. She flipped it to channel six, upon which a local crew was reporting on the damage to a neighborhood just a few blocks away. Samuel would never have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. He knew others had abilities, but this...this was impossible...

"It's like a bomb went off," his lips whispered of their own volition.

His eyes passed across Ella on their way to Amy, almost as though things were going in slow motion. He gazed at her for a moment, but Amy's eyes avoided those of her father; at first, they couldn't be pried from the TV. But then she looked into her father's eyes, and then quickly away.

Her father looked back to the TV, agape. His jaw was set now, both in anger and fear - not fear of his daughter, mind. It wasn't even fear of what she could do. It was fear of what might happen to her when others found out that it was her that had done this. And both from common sense and his days as a fast-talking businessman who knew where the potholes were and where the skeletons were buried, he knew all too well that the three boys who'd almost raped her (he found his arm encompassing his daughter's shoulders comfortingly at the thought, holding her close) would tell everyone they knew.

He found himself desperately hoping, wishing even, that the boys weren't certain what happened. But from the interview now being conducted on-screen by miss O'Neil, he knew - maybe even before then - that it was a fruitless desire.

He looked away from the TV, barely able to keep from putting his fist through the damned thing. Oh, yes, he had a temper where his daughter was concerned. But it was never directed at her; it was parental instinct. He held her ever tighter with his left arm, prompting an almost imperceptible word to issue from Amy's mouth.

"Dad," she whispered, starting to feel a bit like an olive on a chicken sub.

He looked at her and loosened his grip. His face showed so many things...confusion. Anger. Fear. Hopelessness. He felt trapped. Amy didn't feel much better.

[Ella Tate]

Ella felt bad for the two of them; it couldn't be too easy to see the damage one had caused especially one caused by accident. Especially when the damage came from an asthmatic fourteen year old who looked like she would rather bury herself in the ground than be in the room with the crazy nonsense-spouting woman.

She really didn't blame their silence but she couldn't just let this girl continue living here now. It was going to complicate and inconvenience both her and her father's lives if she stayed here. Hammel offered her a secure place until she can get a semblance of control over her power.

"Mr. Copperfield, Amy, it's incumbent upon you to make a hasty decision about this. The police might have stayed off this place because they know we will be on top of things but you have to make a quick decision before they take action." She said in a soft tone of voice.

[Amy Copperfield]

Amy's father hesitated before saying or doing anything, but at last, the moment came when he could stand it no longer. He stood, looking at Ella pointedly and flicking his eyes toward the kitchen. He had something to say that the kind of things grown-ups said. It was time to be a grown-up.

With that, he walked into the kitchen and waited. He rubbed his forehead with his hands - hard. He paced back and forth. He finally started rummaging around to get a pot of coffee going. Of course, he couldn't exactly think straight, so he had to check three cupboards before he found what he was looking for. His inability to make coffee like he'd done a thousand times before did not make him happy.

When it was done, he leaned heavily on the counter. He spoke in a low voice, every protective emotion under the sun welling up inside him, barely contained in his cold businessman's visage - a mask he hadn't worn since power lunches and staff meetings over a decade previous.

"My daughter is anything but social. She reads. She paints. She listens to music and dances when she doesn't think I'm watching. She wants to play soccer, but her asthma won't let her. She's everything a nerd might be, except a nerd. I know. I was a nerd until I ran for school president Junior year."

He looked up then, searching Ella's eyes for some kind of...he wasn't sure what.

"And won."

He looked down again, unable to take whatever accusing or pitying gaze she might offer any longer.

"Friends ain't really her thing. I'm her friend. On my days off..."

He hesitated, then shook his head. It was stupid. This girl wasn't from Social Services. He had a feeling she wouldn't say a damn word about it. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't; then again, he had once been a ruthless businessman. Maybe he still had it in him, or maybe he'd lost it. It didn't matter. His thoughts were trailing off anyway. Back on topic...

"On my days off, I pull her out of school. I mean, unless she's got a test or something...but I get involved when I can. I know her schedule, I know when her tests are, I know what she does at lunch. We talk. And I pull her out of school when I can, and we go for Arby's or Burger King, and then we go for ice cream and see a movie. Or something. We don't have lot of money, but we have enough to have four afternoons a month off, just her and me. And yeah, it's a struggle."

He looked up again.

"But believe me, it's worth it. And right now, I'm the only thing she's got. I look in her eyes and I know she wants something more, that she wants real friends - someone who'll hang out with her without wondering if she's going to have another attack. But she says nothing. She understands why I do what I do; she gets it."

He paused here, and this time, he was trying to relay a message with his own eyes.

"She's my daughter. I'm all she has, and she's all I have."

This last was said more quietly than anything else he'd said; it was barely a whisper.

---

Amy was listening just out of sight, straining her ears to hear what her father had to say. She could only hear parts of it, but she knew one thing for certain: he loved her. She'd always known that, of course, but she could hear the fear and love in his voice then. Maybe she was a 'daddy's girl', or whatever someone called the female equivalent of a 'mama's boy'. But whatever she was, she couldn't let him go through this. On the other hand, it would be just as painful to stay here and have her father worry about her twenty-four-seven. The school...it was the lesser of two evils. If anything, though, she was angry. Scared, yes, but mostly for her father; mostly, she was angry at herself. This was all her fault. Somehow, she'd let loose...something. And now, it was ruining both her life and her father's. What was she supposed to do now? Abandon her father, make him worry about her more than ever? Or stick around and eventually get into a situation where it didn't happen again, and she ended up dead - or worse?

Though she hadn't yet realized it, Amy was already beginning to come to a decision.

[Ella Tate]

Ella waited a beat before getting up from the couch to follow the elder Copperfield into the kitchen. The older adult was tired and Ella could see it from the way he brought himself about. She cast her eyes downwards for a moment before looking up just as he started to speak.

The way Samuel was talking to Ella felt a lot like a bargain. Ella wasn't sure if that was what he was trying to project but all Ella could hear was a father trying to redeem himself in some ways and that was not what Ella was aiming for. All she wanted was for the pair to know that this wasn't the last time they were going to meet each other. All Samuel had to do was give his consent and maybe, just maybe, Amy can come back here and be the daughter he spent his days off with.

If what Ella felt from the pair was anything to go by, Samuel had nothing to worry about when it came to Amy coming back here. Amy was going to come back here every possible time she could.

She was surprised she felt sad with this display of heightened emotion for someone who wasn't even related to her. Ella wasn't cold by any measure but she didn't quite have the emotional capacity to appropriately empathise with some people's plights and the emotions that came with it. But she did identify with them most of the time.

Swiping a delicate hand over her forehead before pulling back into her ponytail, Ella took a deep breath. "Mr. Copperfield. I'm not stealing your daughter or cutting all ties and communication you two have with each other. I can't tell you that it would be easy for her to assimilate or that the distance wouldn't be difficult but rest assured, she will be safe in Hammel."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket but she made no move to check it, knowing what it was. "Mr. Copperfield, try to understand. You may not think your daughter is dangerous and she really isn't. But her power is too dangerous to be kept untrained. You're endangering other people's lives by keeping her here. That's the cold hard fact. Those boys might not be the only ones who would want to go up front about what happened. I don't want to sound harsh, Mr. Copperfield but your daughter needs to learn to control her power especially because of her condition."

[Amy Copperfield]

It was a long silence and much metaphorical wringing of the hands that brought Amy into the room with her father. As she stood there looking up at him, she knew there was no choice in the matter. She would have to speak for her to truly make the decision, but she had to get up the nerve just to do that. Finally, though, she started to say something when her father did. Ironically, it was seeing him that made her decide; yet, it was seeing her that made him decide as well.

"Amy, pack. Ms. Tate...I want to discuss the details of this 'school' while Amy's packing."

The two shared another little conversation, a private one with their eyes alone, and Amy understood. She glanced between the two 'grown-ups' for a moment, but finally turned away. She headed to her room, and that's where she stood for longer than she meant to before making another decision: obedience. Actually, it was more like resignation.

Amy's room had pink walls and a brown ceiling; the carpet was brown, too. It was likely the weirdest base decor job ever, as far as Amy knew. But she liked it. Pink and brown were her colors; she'd suggested them for school colors once, mostly in jest, but she hadn't made that mistake since. She found herself shuddering as she remembered the pranks pulled on her after that stunt and the number of hospital trips she took over the next year. Everyone needed someone to hate, and she seemed to be the unofficial school anti-mascot.

Thankfully, the rest of her room - though also a bit odd - didn't bring up such horrible memories. The bed was just a single of white pine and rusty iron springs; painting it would have ruined the wood, so that wasn't an option, but the brown bedding with pink pillows and pillow cases at least made it Amy's own. The dresser was a nice oak, sturdy and bearing four drawers. Most of the dresser's space was filled with old newspapers; it was getting to be recycling time again, but she'd have to have her dad run to the center on his day off and send her the money. Where would she spend it, though? She was off to a damned private school. It was probably in the middle of nowhere.

The top drawer held her essentials, though: underwear, a couple of training bras - she'd only just started wearing them last year and they were a bit uncomfortable, but she was supposed to 'grow into them', according to her father. He'd been a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation himself, and kind of mumbled that to her when he'd bought them before blushing and turning away from her. She'd laughed afterward, but more nervously than anything else. Anyway, she had shirts and jeans in there, too - not a lot, but enough; there were a few things in the second drawer, including a couple pairs of coveralls. It was there that she started.

She closed her door and changed, not really wanting to endure a long car or plane or train ride in jeans; she liked denim, but sometimes you just couldn't sit right in it. Thankfully, her cover-alls were roomy without making her look fat and they were a thin, light corduroy-like material, so they were much more comfortable than regular jeans. They also happened to be pink. She dropped her jeans and threw on a pair of cover-alls, and then she started doing up her hair in pigtails. might as well get that out of the way, too. She threw on some brown Converse and shoved her wallet into her jeans pocket. She didn't like purses; why carry something around when you could just shove it in a pocket? That's what pockets were for.

She found an old gym bag in her closet that she'd used for overnight trips to the hospital in the past. She shoved her clothes in it, including the jeans she'd just been wearing; they were barely worn, so they were still plenty clean enough. She stuffed her cover-alls and other jeans in it, her shirts, her essentials. She hesitated on the bras, but finally shook her head and stuffed them in. Then she looked around for what else to throw in. She decided not to take her Daffy Duck plushie with her; it would be a bit odd sleeping without it. It was childish, but she'd always had the thing. She loved it. It was like...well, as important as a pillow. Kind of. but, kind of not...

She put her favorite art supplies into the bag, smiled at a book of models her father didn't know she had - male models, and not of the most modest variety - before deciding not to take that one, instead grabbed a couple of her favorite novels, and shoved her mp3 player in her pocket. It had been from her father and it had taken a long time to save up for, but it had been worth it. She almost grabbed her favorite snowglobes, thinking to take a couple with her, but...well, considering what this was all about...

With that, she basically caved.

Sitting on her bed, her door closed, she felt...alone. Angry. Desperate. Pick your emotion. Why had this happened to her? Why couldn't she have just whipped out some signature Christian Kane moves and kicked those sonsofbitches' ASSES the old-fashioned way? Why couldn't she have whipped out some Jason Bourne or Wesley Snipes? Why did she have to destroy a city block with some kind of goddamned scream? And why the hell did she have to be plagued with asthma?

Why did Life or Something Like it always have to happen to her?!

When she heard a light knock on her bedroom door, she jumped.