❝ Everything I touch always withers away and dies, but I have simply fallen far too deeply in love with you to consider what the outcome may be of all of this. So, maybe I might die tomorrow, but I couldn't care less tonight ❞
NEW GODS II
HEROES OF...
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THERE was something very specific about the smell of school buses. Even before Dara opened her eyes, she knew she was on one, just from the smell of dust, sandwiches lost to a crack between the seats and teenage odour. It did little to provide her with some comfort as she struggled to remember how she knew what a school bus smelt like, when she couldn't remember ever being on one.
She gulped, her breathing picking up as she forced her eyes open. It took a few tries, but Dara managed to do it in the end, blinking as she got adjusted to the light filtering through the dusty window. Well, so far so good.
Dara twisted in her seat, pushing her head further into whatever was supporting it and looking around again. In front of her were rows of seats, some filled by teenagers that looked fifteen or sixteen, roughly the same age as her. But, as her mind tried to conjure up her age, it drew a blank and Dara panicked. How could she not know her own age?
What sort of person didn't know there own age?
"Uh..." She stopped panicking, becoming aware that the seat behind her was breathing. Dara froze, before tilting her head backwards as far as she could. Her eyes met with a pair of electric blue ones, panic as clear in them just as it was in hers. "Who are you?"
"I-I don't know," The pillow stumbled out, tripping over his words. Dara tried to push herself off, but found that her hand was occupied, holding onto the boy's.
"Can you get off my hand?" She asked, as the boy hurried to let go of her hand, allowing Dara to push herself off of him. It turned out, she had been lying lengthways across the backseat, her chest and head leaning against mystery boy's shoulder, and her legs stretched out along the seat, over someone else's.
"Glad you're up." Mystery boy and Dara both spun around, looking down at the other end of the back seat. Next to the other window, a girl was pulling headphones from her ears and sticking them into her pocket. "I was starting to think that I was going to have to wake you when we got there and I know just how grumpy Dara gets when she's woken up."
The girl fiddled with the braids in her hair, pinning flyaway hairs back from her face as she spoke.
"Are you Dara?" The mystery boy asked, looking down at Dara, who nodded.
"I think so," Dara stuttered. It was the only name that came to mind. "Do you know her?"
"No,"
"Great," Dara muttered. "Who are you?"
"Uh-" He stumbled over his words, rubbing the back of his head and his forehead creased. "Jason, I think?"
"You think?"
"All right, cupcakes, listen up!" A small guy at the front of the bus stood up, stopping the conversation before Dara could ask more questions. The guy was built like a baked bean, with pristine Nike trainers, a spotless whistle and a large megaphone attached to his waist. He stood in the aisle, but Dara had to sit up a little straighter to try and see him properly over the tops of the seats.
