Saving a Superhero

23: Fights+Friends

It was Grace that I was really worried about as she quickened her pace toward Hudson, closer to his than the rest of us. I did my best to shield wherever she was at the moment, but she kept changing places before I could register the movement. Then again, she was doing exceptionally well at protecting herself. If a gummy worm or butterscotch disc got too close to her for comfort, she'd simply swat it away with the back of her hand.

If you think that's easy, just try throwing a dozen gummy worms at someone as see if they can block all of them at the same time, because that's what she was doing.

As she grew more comfortable with her newfound ninja abilities, she'd add in a kick that would shatter' the butterscotch and send sharp shards flying in Hudson's general direction. 

The only problem was Hudson. You're probably thinking, duh, of course he's the problem Juliet. He's a super jerk!

But that wasn't the immediate problem, that was just the general problem. The problem I was currently facing was the failure of my distraction.

I had made it rain candy for the specific reason to distract him from Grace advancing on him and the cement flying through the air at him. Instead, he looked mildly peeved at the candy cracking against his skull and was still intent on Grace.

Another plan came to mind, a really dangerous plan that probably wouldn't work, but it was the only plan I had. Plus, I'd already accepted the fact that this whole expedition wouldn't end well for me.

So I sauntered over to Rory, and threw the gumballs in her hand to the ground. She was easier to shield while I was standing next to her, so I could actually hold a somewhat reasonable conversation with her through the gale of destruction and candy around us.

"We need to go beat up the super jerk."

She didn't blink at my odd request, which was probably one of the reasons we'd managed to become friends.

"How are we going to beat up the Scholar?"

Reasonable question.

"Kick him and maybe punch him."

She nodded with a face that looked exactly like the not bad meme. Then she picked up the gumballs I'd thrown to the ground. "I'm going to need these."

Then we were dodging cement columns and steel tracks and rusted bits of flying death, all the while shouting for Harper to not kill us and for Kennedy to stop shouting the probability of our death.

Halfway to our target, Rory gripped my arm and yanked me down. Hard.

I fell to the ground with the grace of a toddler ballerina and smacked my jaw against the ground hard enough to send stars sparkling behind my eyelids.

I felt the whoosh of air above us as a giant weed propelled a giant marshmallow through the air. What a day.

"Thanks," I muttered to Rory, rubbing the ache out of my chin. My hand came away speckled with blood.

Great, now I was bleeding.

"Anytime," she panted, wiping her blood slicked hands on her camo pants. The ground had acted like sandpaper on her palms, tearing off a layer or two of pale skin.

With legs shaky at the sight of so much blood, I managed to stumble to my feet and rip off the plaid shirt I had thrown on over my t shirt.

After wiping away the blood on my chin I passed her the shirt.

"Here. You're going to need those hands if you're going to throw anymore gumballs at our friend."

She smiled and pressed her left palm, the one bleeding the worst, against the wadded up shirt.