Chapter 18

Lackey. Underling. Minion.

For all that Tiff claimed she was done with her Class and vowed never to touch it again, she couldn’t help it when her mind wandered toward logistics. In this specific case, as Victoria had said, “outsourcing.”

That meant hiring on thugs, right? Only, Tiff didn’t want thugs. She didn’t want any of the above, to be fair, but as she was sitting in Homeroom, waiting for the bell to ring, that was what was going through her mind.

Unfortunately, her “staring into space” routine was not perfect, and as it so happened, she’d been staring at Candice for almost 7 minutes.

The girl knew; she’d been timing it, but she was trying to give Tiff the benefit of the doubt.

Henchman. Toadie. Red Shirt.

Candice narrowed her eyes and tossed an eraser straight at Tiff’s forehead. She missed, but it startled Tiff back into her senses.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re thinking something really weird?” Candice asked in almost a growl.

Red Shirt is too… cliché. Henchman. Henchman? Hench…woman?

Tiff seemed to realize she’d been staring at Candice and cleared her throat.

“Candice, would you prefer ‘henchman’ or ‘henchwoman’? Hypothetically.”

Candice’s eyes were almost slits; she was that suspicious.

“Why’d you have to bring equality into it? You’re just making it weird.”

​

Tiff was about to reply, but that’s when the bell conveniently decided to ring. Mr. Hendricks walked through the door, rapped the whiteboard several times with his knuckles as he passed, and leaned against the front of his desk.

“Alright boys and girls, it’s September 26th. Do you know what that means?”

He was answered by a lukewarm mutter unidentifiable in vagueness and a few bold “no!”s. His shoulders shook silently as he laughed to himself.

“Not much, I’m afraid, since none of you are on the Varsity Football team!”

“What about cheerleaders?” Candice called out loudly.

“Can’t forget our cheerleaders!” Mr. Hendricks raised his arms with about as much enthusiasm as the kids afforded to him. “Gooooooo Hawks!”

A few kids mimicked his cheer and Candice looked sufficiently pacified.

“Anyway,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “September isn’t important, but October is! Don’t forget we have a field trip coming up!”

Every head in the class perked up. Field trips were one of the things that never lost their charm, no matter how much schooling a person went through. While swing sets and monkey bars stopped being cool the moment kids entered junior high, field trips never went out of fashion. For one, it generally meant getting out of other classes for the entire day; for another, it also meant the likelihood of being assigned homework that night drastically decreased. But the most exciting reason of all…was that it got them off campus!

“That’s right!” Mr. Hendricks capitalized on the growing excitement in the air. “We’re going to the DMA!”

A few kids deflated like their fun-balloon just popped, but mostly everyone in the class remained attentive. Mr. Hendricks nodded.

“It’s been on the schedule since the beginning of the year, so make sure you get those permission slips in.”

There was some vague nodding and general assent. Mr. Hendricks wasn’t swayed.

“Ryan, that includes you. You’ve got the memory of a goldfish.”

“Hey!” the boy called out.

“Is it true?” his neighbor elbowed him in the ribs.

“Yeah,” he said, slumping down on his desk.

Another kid perked up.

“Yo, what if our parents are supers?” Mario asked. Half the class started chuckling. The Agrusas ran an Italian deli, and neither Mario nor his parents were anything other than first-rate Citizens. Mario was quite popular in the class whenever group projects came around because his family always catered. He was also a bit of a clown.

“Then get them to chaperone!” Mr. Hendricks pointed his fingers at Mario, making several people laugh.

A small, pale hand rose silently in the air.

Several kids noticed and grew quiet; this was a new development. Theophania did not speak in class.

“Miss VanDyne?” Mr. Hendricks used the same enthusiasm, but it felt different somehow. The entire class turned around in their seats, but Tiff let their gazes bounce off her.

“What if our parents are actually supers?”

Several murmurs rang out.

“The goddess in the truck….”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Step on me….”

“He’s a bigger idiot.”

“Well,” Mr. Hendricks stopped to think about it. “I suppose it…doesn’t actually change the fact that you need to get your permission slip signed. But, Tiff, I know you turned yours in day one. Honestly, if they want to chaperone, we’d be glad to have a registered Meta escort us.”

Tiff nodded. Honestly, she wasn’t going to bring it up, but Mario made her curious. Not that she wanted her parents to come along…and not that she didn’t want them coming, either. Back at the beginning of school, she was super excited for this trip. Now, she couldn’t back out. That would require her to get a different form signed, which would require another signature, and her parents both knew how much she was looking forward to this. Now, if she could have them nearby…it might give her peace of mind?

“Your parents are supers?” Candice leaned over and hissed. Tiff turned to her and shrugged.

“Yes.”

“You have any idea how rare that is?” Candice leaned so far forward she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Actually, is it?” Tiff asked. “I mean, to me it makes sense that two people in the Meta community might fall in love.”

“Is that what happened with your folks?”

“Well,” Tiff thought about it. “Not really. The way my mom tells it, several bikers were hitting on her in a bar, but she gave them the cold shoulder. My dad, who also visited the same place, had seen her come in once or twice. He’d had one too many already and didn’t like how the bikers were talking to the pretty girl, so he told them off. Big mistake. Well, my mom stopped them from beating him to death, drank the entire bar under the table, arm wrestled the whole pile of drunks at the same time, won, then tossed my dad over her shoulder and carried him home.”

Candice’s face slowly drew blank with a growing look of apathy.

“I think I need to meet your parents.”

“Oh, and my sister delves Rifts.”

“And you didn’t think this was important to share before this year?!”

​

The day went smoothly. Tiff partnered with Candice for IPSS, which was more screen summoning and reading a chapter about quests. Mr. Hendricks didn’t have an active quest, so he couldn’t share an example, and nobody in the class had advanced far enough to be recognized by the System.

All except Tiff, who was keeping her lips sealed on that front.

While it did amuse her to think how the rest of the class might react to some of the Quests the System sprang on her, she didn’t quite fancy the second conversation after the initial shock wore off.

Such as, “Why are you being prompted to oversee a shakedown?”

Tiff didn’t know either, but she assumed somebody nearby was being robbed.

Besides that mildly upsetting revelation, class was good. They dove into their textbooks and got bored out of their minds for the next 45 minutes, when it was time to go to their next class.

Eventually, Tiff made it to lunchtime and found herself in line in the cafeteria. Normally, when Melissa was home, she’d pack all the girls a lunch. Even Victoria, who no longer went to school, but she was man enough to show up to work with a brown sack labeled with her name in black Sharpie. Except, it said, “Tori,” and the “o” was a heart. Nobody dared to laugh, because the last person that did got a broken nose.

When Melissa was out truckin’, it was Rick’s responsibility. Now, Rick was a decent cook. Nothing like Melissa, who had zero business being as good at cooking as she was, but he could slap together a sandwich like the best of them.

Or…he could slip them a crisp fiver and let them buy their own.

…technically, not a 5-dollar bill. It was a prepaid lunch card the school could recharge.

Tiff enjoyed school lunch because she could eat less than what her mom packed. Was it as tasty? Absolutely not. But did it come in a 5-pound bag? No.

While that meant she could bludgeon a man to death with her food, it was also way too much for Tiff, so she got in line for some generic white lumpy stuff, some chopped green cylinders, and an oval of meaty protein that was probably labeled: Grade D, But Edible.

At least the dessert was prepackaged pudding.

Tiff found her way to the secluded rear table, and she was only mildly surprised to have someone join her several minutes later.

“I can’t be a henchman,” Candice said, seemingly out of the blue.

“Hmm?” Tiff asked, looking up. Candice sighed impatiently.

“Like, hellooo Tiff? I’m the Hero, remember? You’re going to be the Sidekick.”

“Ah,” Tiff nodded sagely. “I remember.”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t?” Candice asked in a wounded voice. Then she paused. “Now that I think of it, you’ve never seen us put on a routine, have you? Look, I get it, I don’t actually expect you to try out for the cheer team,” she chuckled. “You’d need a lot more practice for that. And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, maybe a few pounds. Cheerleaders are sticks…so what does that make you? A line? A crack? And, girl, do you know there’s a thing called the sun? You pasty. I’m white, but you’re white. You get me?”

“I burn,” Tiff rolled her eyes. “Like heretics at the stake.”

“That is oddly specific and incredibly creepy,” Candice said conversationally. Tiff stared at her. She meant to be sarcastic, but Candice was very good at rolling with the punches. “Perfectly on brand. Now, back to cheerleading. I honestly thought you might show up at the game last Friday.”

“I…,” Tiff began, but when she looked up at Candice, she could tell the girl was genuinely hurt. “…am sorry,” Tiff finished lamely. But she did genuinely feel bad, and she couldn’t say otherwise anyway. “Do you really want me to support you at a game?”

“Yes,” Candice muttered. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Her normally upbeat, bubbly, gratingly sunny demeanor was gone. “Look, I don’t know why I’m telling you, but…I’ve hung out with you for a week now, and you’re more real than all my other friends combined. I don’t know what it is, but you always tell it how it is, right to my face. And I can’t hate you for it. Unlike my ‘friends’, who… never mind. Let’s just say the squad is…full of skanky ho-bags. Look, I don’t know, I was trying to think of something clever but I can’t.”

“But they’re your team?” Tiff tilted her head. Candice gave out a bark of a laugh.

“Ha! You say that. Some team,” she scoffed. “There’s more politics in a cheer squad than the White House. I might not even make it back on the team next year.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Ah,” Tiff sighed. She watched the girl wilt; she understood how much the team meant to her.

Well, no, she didn’t have a clue, but she could imagine. And right now, it seemed like Candice needed a friend.

“Sure…I can come to a game. But I’ll need to bring my sister.”

“Really?” Candice perked up, but her eye twitched and her lip quirked into a half-smile. “Wait, your sister? What, do you need a babysitter?”

“According to my mom?” Tiff groaned. “Yes.”

​

“A football game?” Amy asked. For a second day in a row, Amy was taking the bus back home. At least this time Tiff wasn’t suspicious of her motivations. They were clearly on display. And now that the secret wasn’t so secret, Tiff couldn’t muster up the energy to rebuff the inquisitive, energetic girl.

“Yes, Candice is a cheerleader. She wants me to support the team.”

Amy squinted.

“Do you even know anything about football?”

Tiff scoffed.

“I know people like to argue that soccer is supposed to be football.”

“Well, yes,” Amy conceded, “People on the internet will argue about anything. But besides that?”

“I know…the field is measured in yards?” Tiff stated. She made it sound more like a question and Amy wasn’t convinced. “The ball looks like an egg?”

“Why are you going again?” Amy asked, rolling her eyes. “You know less than I do, and I know nothing.”

“I told you,” Tiff sighed, exasperated. “To support Candice. And it’s not like it’s set in stone that I’m going. The game’s not until Friday night, and I’m only going if Tori comes with me.”

“Yeah, maybe she can help you blend in better,” Amy chuckled. “At least she knows which way you’re supposed to kick the ball.”

Tiff started nodding and then paused. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Amy.

“You don’t kick the ball in football.”

“It depends on who you ask,” Amy grinned deviously, so Tiff ignored her for the rest of the ride home.

Things did not improve when she got home.

“A football game?” Victoria asked with disbelief.

The three girls were crammed inside Tiff’s small room. She was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on her homework, but for some reason, out of everywhere in the world they could be, her sisters chose Tiff’s room to hang out in.

“Why do you want to go to a football game?”

“That’s what I said!” Amy agreed enthusiastically from her position loafing on Tiff’s bed. The first thing Amy had done once the sisters tramped into Tiff’s room was spill the juicy beans all over Victoria. What was this? Theophania VanDyne, famed recluse, wanting to go- gasp -outside?! To socialize?!

Tiff was starting to think her sisters didn’t think very highly of her people skills.