Wonderland Ch. 05

Author's Note: I'd like to thank my editor, Mikothebaby, for editing this chapter for me and for being a great fan! ;-)

Also, I want to thank all of you guys for continuing to read and vote and comment. That really means a lot to me.

As usual, this story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever. All rights reserved.

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The next morning I woke up without Talon. After shutting off my alarm and groggily getting dressed for school, I headed downstairs and discovered the reason why the large Gargoyle was missing; my mother. She was whistling very off-key to the Annie tune "Tomorrow" while bouncing around in front of the stove as she cooked breakfast. She was wearing her usual morning outfit; a hot pink fuzzy bathrobe and her Godzilla feet slippers, the robe fluttering around her as she did a pirouette while flipping over the bacon.

Mom then stopped whistling and turned before breaking out into a large smile. Her black Trinity Blood tee was smeared with flour from her jilted dance moves. She had even managed to smear flour across her face from her chin to her right cheek before it appeared in white splotches in her braided hair.

Her smile faltered. "What? Do I have egg on me?" she asked, plucking at her shirt.

"Flour," I offered, fighting a smile as she huffed and brushed at her shirt, effectively smearing the flour from her hands over the main anime character, Abel.

"No work today?" I asked as I sat on at the kitchen island, bringing up my backpack to rest on the stool beside me.

"Oh yes. Always. But I don't go in until noon."

I eyed the clock. "And you're still up early?" I asked in disbelief.

"Habits die hard," she sighed, waving the spatula – and flinging egg into her hair. After telling her that much she swore and handed the spatula off to me. "I owe you dinner," she bargained, leaving the kitchen before I could say yes or no. With a sigh, I saved the eggs and burning bacon before setting out our plates. I poured myself a coffee while I waited for the toast to brown.

Breakfast went by quickly, and without mom, as she got a call while removing raw egg from her hair, making the day start out so much differently than yesterday. I didn't think it would be smart to bypass to the pool house before I left, so I forced down the urge to see Talon, hoping he was alright. I didn't want mom to get suspicious by peeking around the windows as I walked towards the bus stop, but I couldn't help myself from looking anyway. And let's face it; I was afraid if mom discovered my secret, she would force Talon to go into hiding somewhere else – or worse.

I got onto the school bus just a minute before it pulled away from the curb and swallowed my dismay at not seeing Connor saving me a seat. I managed to squeeze into one of the short seats at the very back, grumbling with every bounce and jerk as the bus rumbled its way back to the high school.

The morning went by slowly, with no sign of Connor in classes or walking a full head and shoulders above everyone else in the hallway. I sighed as I put away my book for Trig and headed to my free period, wondering idly to myself how I had managed to get this friendless.

I had just reached the bottom of the stairwell to the second floor when I heard a loud thud followed by a whimper and echoing male sniggers. Instantly warning bells went off in my head and I hesitated with my foot over the step.

I was no stranger to bullies, I mean, hello I got doused with Exlax for crying out loud, so when instinct told me to enact Operation Forrest Gump and kick it in the opposite direction where the other stairs to the second floor were, I started to do just that.

I began to turn when an eruption of dull thuds, oofs! and retching noises filled the emptying hallway around me. Someone was being kicked down, just twelve steps above my head.

I hesitated for only a second before rushing up the stairs, my eyes widening as I saw a wall of blue and gold – the Jocks.

Fudge.

Every school had cliques – and my high school definitely wasn't any different. The Jocks and Cheerleaders were ever-so-popular, the Goths and Emos warred over who was more desolate in their despair, the stoners and artists mingled in hippie vans and discussed the suppression of free speech and good books, the Lil Wayne and Eminem wannabes rapped and beat boxed in the hallways accepting funds to "make it tha next level"...we had it all.

And with any clique, you always had the leaders...and unfortunately for me, I was staring at the backs of their letter jackets, listening to their mimicry of the poor kid they'd chosen to victimize today.

While my instincts were telling me I still had time to Run, Forrest, Run; my conscious was telling me I could so channel Lara Croft and do what was necessary to stop this.

So without thinking, I pushed through the wall of muscle and found a boy dressed completely in black curled up on the floor, his body jerking with each kick that the junior year punter for the football team, Brendan Young, delivered.

I lashed out quickly, pushing Brendan hard in the side and watched as he teetered off balance briefly before crashing back into the bodies of the jocks behind him. All eyes turned to me then, each face contorted with surprise. I can't say I didn't feel the same myself.

"I think you've made your point, Young," I shot at him. "He's not fighting you anymore."

"Oooh, nerd has an attitude," Damian Weiss, the running back of the football team, sneered down at me. He then narrowed his eyes and peered down into my face, recognition lighting up his steel blue eyes. "Oh. Cohen. How were your potatoes? We added a bit of...uh...seasoning to them, you know, to give them a bit of a kick. Did you like it?"

All the color drained from my face as the group bust out into fits of guffaws, and I found myself mentally reciting repetitiously the one commandment that forbade me from wishing – in any form – the possible gruesome end of the idiots standing in front of me. Twisted, I know.

"I think you've made your point," I told Weiss, not blinking an eyelash as I stared up into his chiseled, and ironically angelic, face. The stare down lasted only seconds before he snorted and shook his blonde hair out of his eyes, smirking at the guys around him and gesturing to me like "What a stupid bitch, right?"

"Got your ass saved, puto," spat the small Hispanic Jose Aleman, giving the kid one last nudge with his Nikes before swaggering off with the others. If I remember correctly, Aleman had lost his position as safety on the football team due to his inability to pass the pee test but still obviously kept his jersey and letterman. There's "fair and just" school policy for ya...

I turned back to the kid and found him sitting up on one elbow, gingerly touching his nose with one hand while pressing the fingertips of the other to his rib cage.

I kneeled down beside him, taking off my backpack and waited silently for him to make a move. The guy lifted his head and met my eyes warily, his jaw muscles tightening and ticking slightly.

He had to be at least my age and from the looks of things he could jump cliques from either the stoners or the Goths, depending on how deep his depression lay. He had black eyes that were a little too large for his face and a longer nose that instantly struck me as Adrien Brody-esque. In fact, if his eyes weren't so dark, he could easily make a living as Adrien Brody's doppelganger.

"Do you think it's broken?" I asked him, gesturing to his bleeding nose.

He shook his head, his big eyes never leaving mine.

"Do you want me to take you to the nurse?" I pressed, a little thrown off by his staring.

Wait. That sounded familiar...

He nodded and I reached into my bag for my packet of tissues, pulling out a few for him. "I can help you stand..." he waved me off and scooped up his bag decorated with the Slipknot band logo from the floor, stumbling a little as he stood upright.

The guy was a couple inches taller than me and definitely broad, but even I could see that he was nothing but skin and bones, making it obvious as to why the jocks picked him as their next victim. He was a little stooped, but that was probably because his ribs had just taken a beating from one of the best punters in the state.

"It's this way," I told him, putting my bag over my own shoulder. I led him back down to the first floor, watching as he leaned heavily against the railing as he went down. Clearly his stomach hadn't been their only target.

"I'd stick close to your friends," I told him as we walked, feeling his stare on me as we made our way through the labyrinth of hallways to the nurse's station. "Safety in numbers and all that."

He tilted his head before dabbing at his nose. "I don't have any friends," he said quietly, his tone smooth and without any accent at all.

"Oh." Me either.

We succumbed into an awkward silence then, and I was too much at a loss to press him for conversation.

"Here we are," I told him a few minutes later, brandishing my arm unnecessarily at the nurse's door. The door was childishly marked with chalkboard toppers of cartoon pictures of nurses with needles and stethoscopes, checking temps and shoving wooden whatchamacallits down kids' throats. Definitely high school.

As the Goth passed through the open door, he flicked one of the cartoon nurses, shaking his head. Clearly he found it as hypocritical as I did.

Nurse Patty, the head nurse for the school, wasn't what you would call a typical nurse. The toppers around the door? Definitely not her idea. She was the victim of thirty years of smoking, bad acne, and lax knowledge of cosmetics and social skills. She barked at the Goth kid to sit down on a cot, which he did tenderly, and shot a dirty look at me that meant either I stay and tell her what happened or go and get back to class.

I hesitated, looking over at the Goth. "The jocks got to him," I said slowly, turning back to Nurse Patty. Instantly her ruddy face clouded and she gave me a brief look over.

"Same punks who messed with you?" she asked in that husky grumble of hers.

I nodded, lowering my gaze to my feet.

"Alright, so what's the damage, kid?" Nurse Patty asked, checking his nose.

"They just broke the skin, that's all," he replied after a while, flinching when she applied pressure to his nose.

"They were kicking him," I told her, ignoring his dirty look. "He was walking funny on the way over here."

"Thanks for walking me," he hissed when Nurse Patty pressed against his narrow chest with one large, ruddy hand. His black eyes shot to mine. "Unless you wanted to stay and hold my hand?" he asked bitterly, cringing at whatever Nurse Patty was doing.

I blinked at his dismissal and shrugged my backpack higher up on my shoulder. "Whatever. Bye, Mrs. P."

"Hurry to class," she called after me.

I made it to class just as the tardy bell rang, only to find that there wasn't a teacher and no one was taking roll. Collapsing down in my usual spot, I rested my head on the desk and sighed.

This day was really going to the dogs.

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I missed the freaking bus.

Since none of the kids riding the same route liked me, they just watched my futile attempts to catch the driver's attention and waved as the bus grinded its gears down its usual afternoon route, taking the yellow box well out of my reach.

With a groan I shouldered my bag and began the long trek home, swearing under my breath at my sweaty state, the afternoon chill, and my crappy luck.

Unfortunately part of my route took me past the district of Wonderland that offered affordable housing, and just like in every city, the area was crime-ridden and over-populated. It was situated right across from the smaller – and newer – city park that offered a children's playground and a dog park. Let's not discuss the sanitation issues with that one.

As I rounded the corner at the southeast edge of the playground, I found the entire sidewalk blocked by a group of guys that varied in height, baldness, skin color, and hygiene. The air reeked of booze and cannabis. Instantly I knew my day was going from bad to worse.

I crossed the street quickly when the flashing lights said to walk, hoping that moving across the street to the safety of the empty sidewalk would be sufficient.

It wasn't.

The group followed me, strangely quiet, and as the sidewalk began to run out, I contemplated my options. If I went right, I'd hit the projects and instead of four guys following after me, I could have a whole gang and get undeniably lost. If I went straight, I could lose them in the large Wonderland Park which I knew like the back of my hand. Either direction had its disadvantages, I merely just needed to figure out which one I had the greater vantage point of getting away safely. I mean, come on, these guys weren't following me with Bibles or offering pearls of wisdom. I don't know what is going on in their heads, I could only guess, and my Law and Order: SVU addled brain was telling me I had better not stick around and find out what that might be.

Crossing another intersection, I quickly stalked under the wrought iron park entrance and into the main lawn of the park, choosing Lady Bird Trail to follow since it was windy, long, and ended up near my house. I highly doubt these guys would want to pursue me for six miles, so I booked it, plunging into the darkening forest with only one thing on my mind; escape.

Except these guys were a lot smarter than I gave them credit for. At least four trails intersect with Lady Bird at one point, two of the four being shorter and cutting straight through. In my rash decision-making, I hadn't thought of that and found myself walking towards the four men barring the intersection from me five minutes later, my plan ultimately backfiring.

Double fudge.

"Hey, hey, hey, where's the rush, baby girl?" asked the shortest guy, the four of them moving in unison to keep me within their ever-widening horseshoe shaped ring. The guy speaking had the biggest belly out of the group and the least amount of hair on his head and his face reminded me of a Pekingese dog. All in all, he looked ridiculous.

"Just to get home," I responded honestly, taking in my opponents.

None of them really appeared threatening, but looks obviously meant little. They wanted something and had acted as a pack to get it. None of them had weapons, and despite the smell of weed, they didn't look high, but instead like they were just coming down off the ledge.

"Why don't you stay and talk with us for awhile? No need to rush off," the fat guy cajoled.

I eyed the dark woods around me and the crappy weather that was building up over our heads. "You want to talk here?" I quipped dryly, shifting my weight from one foot to the next, betting my chances on outrunning them.

Fatty shrugged. "Why not? The boys and me don't meet a lot of pretty young things like you very often."

Um, obviously.

"No thanks," I snorted, beginning to walk again.

"Don't run off, we just wanted to talk," Fatty tried again.

"Well, I'm not much for conversation," I snapped, making a wide berth of the Hispanic and black guy that were closing in. "So back off!"

I dodged Fatty's reach and collided straight into a pillar of stone. Gasping at the impact, I stepped back and looked up and into the face of the Adrien Brody's doppelganger.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his hands tightening their hold on my back when I went to take another step back.

I shrugged, not really sure how to answer that question, and looked over my shoulder to find that five other people had emerged from the forest, all of them wearing the same all-black attire that Adrien Brody's twin did. They faced off with the four aging men, herding them back like they had herded me.

"Let's go," he murmured, gently tugging me along.

"And leave them here?" I asked, gesturing to his friends.

His black eyes went above my head. "They'll be fine. Did they hurt you?" he asked gently, putting one hand in the middle of my back to press me forward and used the other to take my bag from me. I was faintly aware of the men yelling, but the guy was herding me quickly out of the clearing and deep into the forest trail again.

He gently nudged me and I realized he wanted me to answer, but I was kind of in shock. He was a complete three-sixty from the way he had treated me earlier, and I could barely keep from gaping at him as we walked down the trail.

"No, they didn't," I answered slowly. "Though, I'm kind of convinced if you hadn't showed up when you did, I would be singing a different tune right now."

His brows furrowed slightly and he tilted his head at me. "So why take the path through the woods, little Red?"

I gave him a dirty look. "Is that a dig on my hair color?" I asked dryly. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, but he said nothing. "And I took this way because I thought I could lose them in the woods."

"So they were following you."

I nodded. For a brief moment, his expression darkened and the hand on my back tensed.

"Are you heading home?" he asked, shifting my bag's weight on his shoulder.

I nodded again.

"I'll walk you."

I gave him a look. "It's a long way," I told him. "And we don't exactly know each other either," I said in epiphany, realizing just in that moment that I was being led through an abandoned stretch of woods with someone I didn't even know.

Adrien Number Two smirked and held out his hand.

"I'm Thatcher."

That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but...what the hell. "Tempest," I replied, shaking his hand briefly. "Your nose looks better." He cringed, the action wrinkling his nose slightly and I watched as he gently touched the tape Nurse Patty had put over the bridge. Despite the sign of bruising around his eyes and the tape, he looked better. I noticed then that he wasn't even stooping anymore, and our height difference grew another two inches, putting him around six feet.

"Like I said, they just broke the skin. No big deal."

"If you say so," I told him, eying the darkening sky above warily. If I didn't hurry, I would have more than just middle-aged thugs to worry about. I started to open my mouth to tell Thatcher that much when we rounded a bend and I almost face-planted when I ran gut-first into a Lego-like monstrosity on wheels.

"There's a bike there," Thatcher deadpanned.

"So I've noticed," I shot back, clutching my stomach as I straightened up. "What's it doing way out here?"

Thatcher pulled out a ring of keys from his jacket pocket, plucking one out of the myriad to show me.

"It's mine," he said with a smirk, putting in the key and starting it. I fingered one of the key chains – a Gothic Hello Kitty cell phone charm – and gave him a look.

He shrugged a shoulder. "I like cats. Even the cartoon ones."

"I'm not gonna lie, that's pretty sad," I admitted dryly as he swung a long leg over the bike and scooted up, leaving room for me at the back.

"Hop on," he told me.

"I don't ride bikes without a helmet. Mother's orders," I said lamely, taking a step back from him as my heart began to beat faster in fear. He wants me to get on that?!

Thatcher pulled out from his Slipknot satchel a small black helmet without a visor, holding it out to me. "I'm comfortable enough to ride without one," he told me as I eyed it warily. "And besides, if we argue any longer, we'll get caught in the rain. Just take it."

I sighed and plucked the helmet from his pale hand, hurriedly putting it on and tightening the buckle before I could lose my nerve. Only after he was satisfied the helmet was snug, did he let me get on the bike. For some reason, though, that just irritated me. "The only people who don't use helmets are the ones who haven't fallen off a bike before," I told his back as I adjusted my bag.