The Puddle Jumper

One - Ro

It's funny, really, how small everything looks when it's falling away from you.

I heard someone screaming. I realized it was me.

I felt something collide with me, something warm and springy. I seemed to pass through it and continued yelling and screaming as I continued to hurtle downwards.

All of a sudden, I landed, hard, on something solid. For a few seconds, I couldn't breathe, and my vision was blurry. That being said, I could see that the sky had changed from black to blue.

Black to blue? My eyes suddenly focused, and gingerly I got to my feet. I realized nothing really hurt. My eyes widened.

"Am I dead?" My breath showed in the air. "The car hit me, didn't it. This is some sort of hallucination because I died."

"I wish," came a grumble. I jumped and spun, and there, standing in front of me, was the figure from the gym. Immediately I sprang into position. I did karate for three years when I was four and knew practically nothing, but they didn't need to know that. The figure heaved a dramatic sigh and reached out a hand and immediately threw me backward. I landed on the ground and found that that hurt, but not the fall from who-knows-how-many-stories-up.

"You're right," I gasped. "This must be hell."

"Not hell," the voice said flatly. "But equally as problematic," The figure backed off and started to pace. I only caught segments of their speech.

"-a human?" mutter mutter. "-Council of Jumpers," mutter mutter. "-exiled," mutter mutter. "monsters," mutter mutter.

I stood back up, dusted off my shirt and pants, and held up a hand.

"Excuse me, murder dude? Scar, right?" The figure spun suddenly, and the hood fell away.

"You're a girl?" I demanded. The very-obviously-a-girl put her hands on her hips and glared at me. She had lots of freckles and bright green eyes. She had curly red hair and an angry flush to her cheeks.

"Yes, and you're stupid and ignorant." I opened my mouth but closed it as she spoke over me. "What, a girl can't throw a boy like a sack of potatoes?" she mimicked in a high pitch voice that was meant to be mine. "What, a girl can't be capable of being threatening or dangerous? What, a girl can't join the Jumpers?" She froze, looking as though she had said too much.

"Jumpers?" I ask curiously.

"Shut up."

"Rude."

"Oh that's new, I thought you would have thought a girl would just have one setting; polite to men."

"Look ma-" I was about to say man, but decided against it. "-'am, I genuinely thought you were a guy. No hate to girls or anything, I just thought Scar was a man."

"That's convenient," she said, crossing her arms.

"Do you work for Scar?" I asked. "They've kinda been harassing me and I want to talk to them." The girl laughed.

"So talk," she said.

"I don't think you heard me correctly," I said, trying not to sound condescending, "I want to talk to Scar."

"I am Scar, idiot." She grinned at me.

"You're Scar," I said, my mouth going dry.

"Yes, that would be me, which makes you Rolland Johnson." She looked me up and down and gave me a sympathetic look. "I would have thought you'd be so powerful because of your masculinity." She raised her eyebrows victoriously.

I sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what exactly?" Scar said innocently, giving me a big smile. I heaved a great sigh.

"For assuming you were a man."

"And?"

"And making assumptions."

"Good."

"Now can we start over?" I ask. "You kind of don't have a choice, because someone has to explain to me where we are, why this is as problematic as hell. If you don't answer I'll just follow you and bother you until you break."

"Bold of you to assume I'd break before I broke you," she said sweetly. She casually moved her jacket so that he could see a sword on her hip. I sat myself down and glared at her.

"You are the worst kidnapper ever." I said. She scowled at me.

"I'm not a kidnapper. You just suck at taking directions. I gave you three rules. Three! You broke the most important rule and found yourself here because you can't follow simple directives. I actually saved your stupid life because you decided to fall down the Portal because you didn't do the one thing I so kindly asked you to do."

"If I remember correctly," I said icily, "You threatened, harassed, and were anything but kind in that email."

"I got the point across didn't I?"

"Obviously not well enough! What's with the stalking, Scar?"

"Stop calling me Scar. That's not my name."

"What do you want me to call you, female? I feel like you wouldn't have a great reception of that," I don't know why I was getting so angry, especially when she could easily take me in a fight as she had demonstrated already.

"Don't call me anything, Rolland Johnson."

"Ro." I said sharply. I hate my name. It sounds like a fifty-year-old man who runs a butter churning business.

"Sounds good, Rolland Johnson."