A/N

Second chapter, these are usually going to be about 1200-5000 words so relatively short. But I will be updating about once a week, twice if I have the time. Anyways sit or stand tight and enjoy the show... I mean story.

-------------------

Will, obviously lost for words, opens his mouth and hesitates before stuttering. "Well... When we came up here and... Uh... There was all this gunk," he said gesturing around the room. "And Kendal here-"

"Who?" Dylan asked as if he never even heard the name before, completely cutting off Will.

Will temporarily stupefied by this question responded again, "Kendal." 

Again with the same answer, Dylan screwed up his face as if that'll help his few brains cells figure out who the name belongs to. "Who?" 

"The one covered in metal sitting in that chair." Will said while pointing right at me, not hiding the fact that he's annoyed with the idiot he's supposed to answer to, and who is currently threatening to discover... Well, it's no question what I am.

"Ohhh. Freshy. That's her real name?" Dylan asked, looking straight at Will and ignoring me as if I'm not even in the room.

He never even notices me, when he does he calls me Freshy, acts as if I'm the most useless person in the world even though I'm the only one always working while everybody else including him lounges around and talks. Literally assumes that my real name is Freshy! As if he owns me and named me as part of his pathetic property! Acts as if I'm an inanimate object then doesn't even acknowledge that I am a real human being! Let alone act  like I'm not even in the room!

The nerve of that-that- THAT EGOTISTICAL IGNORANT MINUSCULE BOONDOGGLE OF AN IMP.

Now I am only usually a passively violent person, maybe "accidentally" trip somebody or an "innocent" throw to some jockys' face. O punch someone that I really hate. The only few times I ever, plain as day, hit or attacked somebody is when they pose a threat to my loved ones. But... he is the living personification of ignorance.

I should just get up, run over there and tackle him. Then punch him a lot. Shove all the whatever this is... Maybe gallium? Into his mouth and leave him for dead.

But I kinda can't get expelled from another school so...

I ball my fist.

Cross my ankles and push my toes to the floor so I'll have a harder time to move if I try to.

Clench my jaw. 

And try not to move. For the fear that if a twitch from even a finger will unlock the rest of my "temporary self paralyzation mode," sending me into a frenzy of movement ending only in me going to jail, or worse, expelled. Heart pumping faster than the Flash, fingernails digging into my palm (most likely going to start bleeding soon,) and teeth about to shatter like glass. sit.

After what felt like a millennia of hearing Dylan's mindless confusion, I feel it. Sense it in my arms. Everything else becomes  unimportant nonsense, just muffles.

Lava.

In my arms that's what it feels like. 

Inflaming every nerve/

My pulse. But not my pulse. It's as consistent as a heart beat, yet each pulse seems to only increase the heat. Like a timer going off once a second to turn up the heat. All I know is that it's an INTENSE burning sensation in my arms, from my shoulder blade to my finger tips.

It's back. I feel it cranking up the heat. The intensity 50x worse than a burn from fire.

I feel the change of temperature in my veins throughout my body.

Cold.

Like frozen steel in Antarctica, in ice, floating in outer space far away from any star or sun. Fluctuating in the narrow passage ways  intended only for my blood.

Heading down a one way path.

My palms.

The comprehension  dawns on me to slowly than should've been necessary. I dig my nails into my palms as much as I can, in a pathetic desperate attempt to contain the gallium.

I feel the sensation of borderline solidifying liquid creep onto my fingers, slowly seeping through the cracks and onto the floor. I feel it... Boiling? That can't be right.

I look down and see the steady dripping of... Not gallium falling to the floor. Each drop of the clear liquid went into the air in a puff of vapor as soon as it hit the floor. Glossing over the gallium like ice.

What is-why...

 But, how?

Every single Anomaly has powers based on one thing. Like Poseidon, he can control water, summon it, and shoot it out of his feet and hands. Or Mars, he can shoot fire out of hands and feet, control fire, and manipulate heat in things to make them catch fire. What's happening to me now is not possible. It's like Mars shooting water, or Poseidon firing well, fire.

Before I have time to process this potentially life threatening thing I snap out of my trance of self panic and jerk my head to the rambling I hear in the back round.

You know how when you have the TV on in the back round when you read or are doing homework? Then you hear something shocking or exciting. New Marvel trailer comes on, your favorite actor dies, you hear The Cursed Child is coming out so you snap your head up to the screen to see what it is.

That's what just happened.

I look up to the two. While Dylan asks again in his own self entitled way, "I said what is that?" He spits in pure pompous-language, pointing in disgust to the steam from the liquid nitrogen.

"Um..." I say, unsure what to say without him realizing what's happening. "That's... The..." I shoot Will a strangled look. Suffocating in shock, unaware how to cough out words. Attempting with all my self awareness to expectorate an explanation. But all I feel is my mind trying to have the processing capabilities of a super computer yet all the power I have is of a TI-82.

"That's... Poisonous gas! It's from this liquid stuff! You better run one whiff of this and it could potentially paralyze you." But before Will even finished his sentence Dylan was off. Sprinting at top speed towards the stairs. Although we couldn't see him he could hear a sure stumble, crashing, then a thwump  on a wall. I'm guessing he fell down the stairs.

I look to Will, with pleading eyes to... I don't know, not freak out I guess. 

"What is that?" He asked. Not scared. Not freaked. Not anything like that. He just sounds concerned, with only a trace of jumpiness.

"From the looks of it I think it may be liquid nitrogen."

"Did you do that?" He ask in astonishment.

"Uh... I guess." I show him my hands that are still dripping nitrogen in a steady pace. "I don't know how to make it stop."

He looks at my hands and sighs.

Yeah I can relate.

"Okay, lets get you out of here." He says cautiously, as if I might explode.

"Yeah. Okay." With that he cautiously steps forward and firmly yet gently takes hold of my shoulders, guiding me out the door and down the hallway.

There is literally no way out without somebody seeing me. The only exits are the garage door that leads into stagecraft (another way of saying set) which is just a wing ten feet wide and twenty feet long. To the right of that is the stage where obviously the most people are. The left of that stage is the rest of stagecraft. Another wing with the same dimensions, but there is a door that leads into a classroom that obviously leads into the building. To much people for that. The other exits we have to walk in front of the stage and the director. So really our best bet is just the garage.

We make our way back, ducking behind props, chairs, and anything else for us to hide behind. In the process making feel like I'm just a little kid playing spy. 

Can you imagine someone with actual brains asking us what happened and why I'm covered in gallium with my hands dripping nitrogen.

Oh this? Yeah I just shot a bunch of this out of my hands then fell a lot. My hands seem like they have a bit of liquid nitrogen cold, but don't worry I'm only 75% likely to shoot you in the face! See ya later pal!

Haha... No. Staying away from people is preferable.

We make it out of the garage without incident. Well as long as you can call leaving liquid nitrogen at random places without incident.

The entire "walk" to the garage I thought the fresh air would do me good. Help calm my nerves, as it usually does.

I breath in the new scent of freshly cut grass, absorbing the sunlight that somehow only tans my skin rather than deciding to just give me a sunburn.

"How you doing?" I turn to the all to familiar voice of Will. He walks towards me from my house holding two red solo cups, within them is colorful umbrellas and transparent pink straws. The sight should've made me smile, but now it just makes me want to cry from the pity filtering his commonly happy face. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." I lie, I don't need him to pity me anymore than he already does. I slap on mask of plastic happiness, I've been using it a lot lately. "Why do you ask?" I ask as if it's not obvious and just plane silly.

"Come on Candle, I know you. That and you stormed out of your house about half an hour ago, you hate being alone. Even when you're angry with me you stay around because you hate being alone so much." He told me, at this point he sits next to me on the curb. Just staring at dried tar that leaves its sticky scent lingering around us... It doesn't bother me while mixed with the grass. 

I turn away from him, focusing on the drainpipe to my left. "Not anymore." After a long pause I breath, "I don't even know me." I hear him shuffle in his spot behind me and sigh. 

"Look at me." His voice barley above a whisper. I ignore him.

"I said look at me Kendal." Wills voice demanding and harsh, almost like he's trying to will me to look at him. I just turn more towards the drainage pretending to be pondering something. 

"Look at me." This time it's more stressed, desperate. I rotate my body to face him, forcing myself at all cost to avoid his eyes. His eyes were always stunning, a pool of concentrated, Gamma green. Before I could react, I feel a hand twice the size of mine grasp my face, and gently direct my gaze to meet his eyes. "What is wrong? I get what happened was bad, I get it renders you fragile for now. But every time a loud sound rings, something moves that you don't know the source of, heck, even when I ride my bike, you jump or shake or act petrified. Seriously, what is wrong." 

I'm scared okay? 

"It's nothing, Will. Seriously, I am a-okay. I just need time to..." I struggle to find the right words. "Process what I'm being told to give up. It was my last hope to pay for a good college. You and I both know my family isn't exactly rich, and it's not like I'm going to be winning any gold medals for intellect." 

Will intakes a long breath, either stalling to figure out what to say  or is about to say a whole lot. "That is four years away, you have time. Either to start really grasping some concepts or to save up money-"

"Some parents have been saving up a college fund before there kids were even born. Do you really think we could actually save up that much in a fraction of that time?" I scuff, mostly from the absurd thought, but partially because I think about how great that would be. I shake of the idea, it's impossible. 

"You could always go to a community college." 

A sudden surge of anger courses through me, one that it pushing my mouth to open and let out a string of words flow out. Each word merging with the next. "That isn't the point Will! It's not just about a scholarship, it's what I love! It's my hobby, a big part of my life, it's my one outlet from this world! And now what? Because I'm more fragile than I thought I have to give all of that up?" The last part came out more of an unexpected whisper than anything else. I feel the burning in my eyes turn into cold tears, but I don't let him see. I just tilt my head down and allow my hair to block my eyes. 

"I'm sorry Kendal. I know it's hard on you. I'm just trying to help." I hear him get up and walk away, down the hill, disappearing with a turn.

I just take in another deep breath. Immediately soothing every nerve in my body. 

Peace.

I've been anticipating it. But as soon as I took in a long, well needed breath, it was dramatically under whelming. No relief from the dust. No cleansing my stress as it usually does. Just... Air.

We only make it a few yards out of the garage before a squeaky "Kendal?" hits our ears.

I stop dead in my tracks. Will only a few steps ahead stops to, the difference is he turns nonchalantly as if everything is perfectly normal, with his signature goofy grin and laid back movements. Again, I shoot him a look of help. Every time I tried to speak on the walk here, it just comes out as non-coherent rambles that consist of uh, um, mhmm, hmm, and a sigh.

He lightly nods at me with a reassuring gleam in his eyes. What's he up to now? 

"Hey Violet." Will clasp his hands together, simultaneously in taking a me worthy breath. "Kendal is not feeling so well. I'm going to take her home. She is kinda out of it."

"Why is she covered in... What is that?" I could practically see her tilting her head in confusion.

"Paint." He says clipped and a little to quickly, like he's been preparing for that question. "She got a bucket of paint dumped on her and the fumes kinda... You know." Followed by a whistle and a rotating finger pointed to his head.

"Oh... Then why is she not getting picked up by one of her parents?" She asks.

Dang it. Curse her observation skills.

"They're both stuck at work. Now I really have to get her home." He then sets his hands on my shoulders, just to add to the effect that he really is taking care of me.

"Okay. Bye Kendal, feel better." She sympathetically says then awkwardly pats me on the shoulder.

"Thanks." I squeak to Will once I know Violet is gone.

"No problem." He releases the breath he took about thirty seconds ago.

"I don't have a way to get in my house, I forgot my keys." The emptiness in my voice is almost borderline disturbing, colder than the nitrogen flowing from my hands.

"You really think I'm taking you home in this condition? You can't even control this. What if you shoot liquid nitrogen at your parents? Or on the side of the road?" He half jokingly replies, honestly I think that thought amused him to much.

"Where are we going then?"

"The ditch. Every single Anomaly can control there powers. I'm sure we can learn to control yours in a matter of a few hours."

My legs turn to jello and my throat instantly forms a lump, "What? You actually want to help me with this?"

I see the signature smirk turn into a sly grin constructed out of his pure amusement. "No I just covered for for you three times, helped get you out relatively unseen, and offered to help just for the amusement of not helping you." He drawled with a smile, linking arms with me and leads the way.

I look up ready to meet his gaze and thank him. His eyes twinkling with kindness and sarcasm all at once.

"Thanks. Really. You do know I can't pay you or anything right?"

He just rolled his eyes and picked up the pace in the direction that the ditches are in.