Fortune Cookie

This is not part of the prompt, and if it turns out well I might make it into a series, but I don't know yet. Also, check out Positivity Account if you wanna upvote some people, their link is in my bio. Please enjoy this story!:)

I rubbed the bruises on my arm, even though they didn’t hurt. Nothing ever did anymore. The teacher was droning on about something that happened in, like, the 1800s or something like that, but nobody was listening. Why learn about old guys killing each other anyway? My eyes diverted down to the comic in my lap, concealed by my desk. I knew it was kind of dumb, reading comics meant for kids, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of being someone else, getting away from real life and fighting bad guys? I couldn’t resist. They always say they don’t want to be a hero because of the toll it takes on their loved ones. But I didn’t have anyone else left, so I guess it didn’t matter. 

“And don’t forget, there is a test on Monday.” The teacher said. Just then, the bell rang, and everyone in the class surged up at once, pushing their way out the door to get home. I gathered my stuff and started to walk out the door when I heard Mr. Striest call my name. 

“Fortune! Come here please.” I turned.

“Good luck,” I heard someone snicker. Chuckles rippled through the crowd of people at the door. “You’ll need it.”

Mr. Striest was notorious for being able to pick out a troublemaker and send them to the office. That couldn’t happen to me. They would have to call my dad. No, I wouldn’t let that happen. I would make something up, pretend to be sick, lie for--

“Mr. Fortune!”

I looked up. “Yes, Mr. Striest?”

He looked at me up and down, as if he was assessing me. I instinctively pulled down my long sleeves, completely covering the bruises.

“I noticed you’ve been lacking behind on your work. You haven’t done it a lot, so I let it go the first few times but now I might have to call your dad. It’s getting a little--”

“No.” I interrupted. “I’ll get it done. I’ve just been...A little busy.” It was partly true. Mr. Striest looked at me quizzically. I swear teachers could see straight into your soul. 

“Ok then. Just get it done.” He waved at me dismissively and went back to grading papers. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to walk out the door, but then I caught a glimpse of Mr. Striest in the reflective windows on the side of the doors. He was looking at me, concern etched in the lines of his face. I quickly looked away and hurried down the hall to my locker. I didn’t need any more pity looks. I got enough of those.

As I was walking back home, the long way, like usual, I got a text from my dad. 

Pick up the laundry. 

Short and to the point. No I love you’s or Be safe. I wouldn’t have wanted them anyway. Not from him. Not after mom… I rubbed my eyes, blinking back tears. No use crying over lost things. I turned left to go to the laundromat, and picked up the free newspaper on the box on the side of the street. Notorious Gang Strikes Again, the headline read. On the front was a picture of the Blood Gang, grimy, but I could still tell it was them. The infamous and instantly recognizable red lines trailing up and down their jackets. I flashed back to 7 years ago, huddled in my closet, as shots rang through the house. Screams. Then silence. I peeked through the shades in the door and saw a man, strong build, in all black except for the red lines, with dark brown hair. But the most striking thing about him were his eyes. Ice cold blue, they seemed to glow in the darkness. And they were staring straight at me. I scrambled back and held my hand to my mouth, to stop from screaming. His shadow got bigger and bigger on the closet door, almost there, but then he stepped back. I didn’t understand why, but then, through the pumping of the blood in my ears, I heard someone say “Let’s go!” After they left, I had sat in the closet, unable to move, to speak. Then the police came. And my mom was gone.

I took a sharp inhale and realized I was still holding the newspaper. I looked again at the picture of the Blood Gang and clenched my fists. 

“You gonna take that, boy?”

A man in a dark brown coat motioned at the newspaper in my hand. His beard was cut and scratched in places and his hair stuck out from everywhere behind his hat. I looked back at the paper.

“Take it.” I glanced up and tossed the paper to the man. “I don’t need this.”

When I got to the laundromat, Caroll, the owner called me over. She was around 30, with dirty blond hair always pulled back into a ponytail. Her grey eyes studied me. 

“How’s your day going?”

“You know. The usual.” I glanced around. The only other person here was an old lady rifling through the lost and found. A lot of stuff got left at this place, and the lost and found was more like a garage sale than a lost and found. Caroll would sell the clothes to people who needed them. It wasn’t like anyone came back for them anyway. I looked back at Caroll and noticed she was looking at my sleeves.

“Hot day, huh?” She asked, clearly prodding me about my dad. 

“Yeah. No, whatever.” I stammered. “Just please get me the clothes.” 

Caroll mouth set into a hard line. 

“Fine.” She turned and walked to the back room, her hair swinging back and forth like a pendulum. I sighed and looked around the room. A poster on the corkboard caught my eye. It was bright yellow with big bold words that seemed to leap off the page. At first glance, it looked like gibberish, but when I looked closer, I noticed there was a pattern in the letters. The numbers didn’t go higher than 26. I looked closer and started translating them into their place in the alphabet; A=1, B=2, etc. to see if it would work. Surprisingly, it did. The  decoded poster read:

Wanna save the world? Be a hero? Go to...

Then it listed a bunch of numbers. Latitude and longitude. I thought. I was reaching up to grab the flyer when I heard a crash outside. I walked towards the big store front window and pulled the curtain to the side. I saw a flash of brown hair and heard grunts. A woman was holding her purse 15 feet away, and right in front of me 2 people in all black clothing getting punched and kicked by a...girl? Yeah, a girl about my age was kicking and punching them, whipping around like one of those people from action movies. I walked backwards, calling for Caroll, and fell straight on a rack of clothing. 

Crash! 

The girl whipped around and I caught a glimpse of her eyes for the first time. 

Ice blue and almost glowing.