Starter for @roastyoualive w/ Ash
Ash sat by the window, bag between her legs, and third row from the back. The vehicle, a sweltering tin can of sweaty teens a few thousand feet in the air (even in Superhero school the buses weren't air conditioned), buzzed with news of the cafeteria fight. Those who were present filled in those who weren't: about fire balls and Will Stronghold lifting a table. Ash pressed her forehead against the glass, warding off her headache. When all the side chatter stopped, she knew Warren had boarded. A second later the bus doors closed, and the driver was revving the engine.
Cutting it close.
Maybe it was her background that disillusioned Ashley from seeing her classmates and their parents as anything but people. They lived in a democracy, for God's sake, she didn't bow to the Queen of England, and she sure didn't kiss ass. Superhero, sidekick, good powers, bad powers, it was strange how this community sorted itself into strict hierarchies. Superiority and inferiority complexes abound. All Ash knew was that Warren Peace was the one guy who moved his backpack when she boarded the bus on that first day of school.
"That's Warren Peace," her classmates had whispered all furtive. She had glanced across the cafeteria to the kid sitting alone and thought sardonically. "That's some guy."
Warren sat beside her, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. The bus lurched as it took off in a decided silence. The other students found new topics: like the weather, who was dating who, and can you believe Medulla wants us to build a stun ray by tomorrow? They weren't friends and she sure didn't consider herself the expert that would diffuse the complex, ticking time bomb that was probably Warren's emotional state. That'd be like trying to do brain surgery with a spork after reading up on it the hour before hand.
"I'm sorry my dad put your dad in jail—" Jesus Christ, Will, read the room. It was a strange connection, one that wasn't all too clear to her, but it made Ash think of the time her dad came to a school award ceremony plastered. Nothing too crazy happened but she was eight, holding her dad's hand, helping keep him from tipping over. He told her he was so proud she got straight A's that year. Something, something, time bombs and sporks, and ignorant children with shoddy instruction manuals.
The bus cruised back to ground, back to their ordinary lives, and reality. Not the bizarre, out of this world bullshit that was Sky High. Some mornings, Ashley missed walking to school with her friends. The stops rolled on; the bus filtered towards empty. Until, it was just Ash and Warren, and a couple others who lived on the North side. Their seedy food desert with periodic gunshots to keep rent low. Ash spoke without really thinking about it.
"You wanna get ice cream?" She asked, glancing at Warren to her right. "I'll buy."
