𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ━ transformers

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

The bell rings, metal clanging against metal in a rapid pattern that sends vibrations through my head. Señor Lopez (he demanded we call him this at the beginning of the school year) concludes his long lecture on the Day of the Dead, spewing out verses and verses of Spanish that I barely catch on to. There's something about a marshmallow skeleton and that's when I decide to leave. Students push past me, a Hispanic dude that sits two rows beside me giving me a look that suggests he thinks I'm one of the skeletons that Señor Lopez was talking about.

My lips tug up in a cold smile and I can feel my scar twisting with it. "Staring is impolite, Alejandro."

Alejandro rolls his eyes and mutters something in Spanish that sounds a lot like "bitch," but he walks into the crowded corridors, and I follow silently behind him. My bag digs into my bag, textbooks pointy and irritable as the poke my spine.

I don't even bother going to my locker, too excited to do anything but run outside. Ron should be out there, waiting, and I can't wait to show him my astronomy test.

Willow sends me a small wave as I pass her, Justin, and Cassidy. I grin back, hurrying along, pushing through bodies to try and hurry outside.

It's crisp when I finally manage to escape the clutches of school and my cardigan does little to keep the cool away. I push my hair behind my ears and trek on anyway, seeking the sleekness of the Topkick in the parking lot. My eyes narrow when I can't find it.

There's Cobalts, Mercedes, Camaros, but no Topkick. No behemoth of a truck sitting in all its obsidian glory. Just stupid, ugly mom cars and. . . my eyes squint to get a better view. Is that--an ambulance?

Upon further inspection, I find out that it is, indeed, an ambulance. And not just any ambulance, but Ratchet's. It sits at the far end of the parking lot as though he's trying not to gain attention--which is kind of pointless considering it's a luminescent yellow Hummer with huge words and stripes painted in red and black all over it. Really, you'd think he was here to pick up someone.

(Okay, he is, but like, someone injured. Not a civilian child who had no clue she was to be picked up by said man.)

I sigh out, excitement exiting with it. It's not that I don't want to see Ratchet because I most certainly do. (It's been weeks since I've seen him and I miss his grumpy self even if he is menacing.) However, me and Ron have this sort of set up thing when he comes to pick me up and like, I like it.

Surprising, I know. I like riding in a truck? But really, Ron makes it worth it. He always talks to me so I don't have to focus on the smooth pavement or rough terrain of the gravel. And he takes me to the flower shop (which I need to do today, dammit) and that just makes my heart soar because he doesn't have to but he does. He also never asks questions about why I need to get flowers, just drives me without a word. I'm grateful for him.

But now I'm going to be forced into some unknown vehicle with only Dr. Wrenches to talk to and I'll be damned if I'm not a little nervous. The kind of nervous that makes me want to change course and hightail it the other way.

Ratchet is watching me, though. I can see him through the windshield. With a petulant sigh, I march forward, glum. Someone dressed in an Elmo costume passes me as I cross the parking lot.

Oh, Halloween. What a wonderful holiday.

There's also a girl dressed up as a Teletubby, another one dressed up as a demented version of Kurapika (I don't even want to know, but aside from the bloodstains and torn clothes, I'd say it's pretty great), and a guy sporting a cape and a leotard, both very dark against his very chalky (and also painted) skin. He's got a bob cut and a pendant on his forehead. I applaud him. He bows with a straight face and wow, I've never seen a better Raven.