Firestarter | Open
Deedee could tolerate most things. She wasn’t very short tempered, at least, she didn’t believe so. She could usually contain any... violent urges. (Usually, mind you. Her father had always called her Firestarter for a reason.) She had enough self control to know when to pick her battles. Not to mention, she really hated detention.
She would let most things slide. She would roll her eyes when people poked fun of her or tried to pick fights. She usually looked at the world with a good sense of humour and a shrug.
But if there was one thing she couldn’t tolerate, it was watching someone make another person cry.
So maybe she shouldn’t have punched him in the face. So maybe she could have called a teacher or tried to ‘use her words’ as her father had always attempted to make her do. She could have, but she didn’t.
Chest heaving and knuckles bruised and bloody, Deedee watched the boy pick himself up off the floor with a curse and a hand over his nose. He sputtered something about her regretting that, which she didn’t, and ran off with his buddies. Deedee released a huge puff of air out her nose--if she could breathe smoke, she would have.
She didn’t take her eyes off the bullies until they were out of sight. As soon as they had disappeared from view, she turned to their victim. Deedee wasn’t sure she knew them, as they had their face covered with their arms. She knelt down in front of the crouched student and smiled softly.
“Don’t worry about them,” she said as cheerfully as she could without being insensitive. “I’ll make sure they won’t bother you again.”