Miranda drew her right arm back, the Archer's bow summoned already in her left hand.
She willed one of Sagitta's arrows into existence; light flaring briefly between her hands before settling down to a tolerable, twinkling glow.
She lined up her shot...
...but didn't fire. After all, that was the point of today's lesson (test?).
The spells she cast weren't technically summons – not in the way most people thought of the word – but they did have certain... tendencies was probably the best word to describe it. Eridanus' spells were stubborn: water wanted to behave in a certain way, and those spells were a constant, but low-effort battle of wills. Sagitta on the other hand – her arrows just wanted to be used for their intended purpose: the longer Miranda kept them nocked, the harder it was to hold on.
And already she could feel the strain. The Archer's bow had what Miranda had at some point decided to call “weightless draw”: it shot like a forty or even fifty pound draw, but it felt like no weight at all (it had been hard to get used to when she first switched from a regular bow). But now her arm was shaking as if she could feel every pound the bow was supposed to have.
The arrow kept trying to jump out of the bow and race for the target. She held it back through sheer force of will, but it was a close game, and one she would lose eventually. It seemed like an awful lot of effort for a skill she'd never use, but her father assured her that – though it may not come in handy with Sagitta specifically – it would with other Pacts' spells.
Back and forth: the magic surged forward, and she pulled it back.
The spell was winning, as she knew it would: it pulled harder and harder, gaining more and more ground, wearing her down until...
“Eight?”
Miranda looked down the range to see the glowing arrow firmly stuck in the red ring.
Her father tsked behind her. “And only fifteen seconds, too.” Miranda turned around to see him checking the stopwatch in his hand. “I'm going to assume that something's distracting you, and I'm going to ask you what it is, and you're going to tell me and get over it so we can get your mind back on the task at hand.”
Miranda shrugged, not looking him in the eye. “Sorry.” She paused, trying to figure out herself why she was distracted. He waited for her to speak again.
“It's just, there's this... this dance tonight. Prom, really. I kind of wanted to go. I mean, I still could, I guess, but there'll be so many other kids there...” she trailed off.
Her father shook his head. “Look,” he started. “You grew up in Paragon: you should be a little more well versed in the whole Meta human thing than someone fresh off the boat.
But I've told you this before, and apparently I have to tell you again. The average Meta only cares about one thing: what can you do for them? These other Metas at your... school,” a note of derision entered his voice at the word, “they're just sounding you out, you know. You might be a novelty now, simply because you're new, but eventually they'll figure out where you fall in the power hierarchy – and I can assure you that won't be near the top any time soon – and they'll forget about you. At best.”
Miranda nodded, keeping her eyes anywhere but on him. This wasn't the first time he'd brought this up. And it wouldn't be the last, she knew, if past lessons were anything to go by. It was a lesson Robert had thought thoroughly ingrained, and if Miranda was being honest with herself, so had she. It was also a lesson the other Metas she'd met in the last couple of weeks seemed hell-bent on undoing.
Chris most notably; urging her to join in with the other students. In all honesty, she had tried, but every time she did, her father's words kept playing in a loop through her head and she couldn't help but feel like she was intruding into their conversations. Maybe, once she got stronger...
“Again.”
Miranda nodded, drew her bow, and summoned a new arrow.
* * *
“How did it go?” her mother asked as Miranda walked through the front door, Robert right behind her.“We're making progress,” he said simply.
“Now, I've actually got a meeting this afternoon, and I need to be on my way, but first,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of jewel cases. Miranda accepted them, looking up at her father in confusion. “Homework,” was all the clarification he provided, before nodding to Marie and disappearing through the front door.
There was silence for a couple seconds; Miranda watching as the door closed behind him.
“Hungry?” Marie asked, breaking the silence.
Miranda smiled. “Starving. It's past lunch time already.”
* * *
“So, what are your plans for this weekend, then?” Marie asked.Miranda finished chewing the food in her mouth and swallowed deliberately. “Well, there was this dance thing tonight, but I'm probably not going to go...”
“Why not?” Marie asked, when Miranda trailed off. “I assume this is a school dance? With all your little Meta friends?”
Miranda just shrugged.
Marie just shook her head, not accepting that as an answer; a half smile played across her lips. “Do you want to go?”
Another shrug.
“It's not a no. I'll take it. Come on, it'll give you a chance to get better acquainted with your new classmates. And probably meet some new ones.
We'll have to pick you up a new outfit, of course. I don't think you've got anything at the moment that really does justice to what I gave you,” she finished a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
Miranda reddened. “Mo-om.”
“Hurry up and finish your lunch, and we'll hit the mall.”
* * *
“Oh, how about this one, then?” Marie asked, holding up a pale green dress for Miranda's perusal. Miranda looked it over quickly, and shook her head. “Too frilly.”
Marie gave the dress a second, critical look. “You're probably right. Alright, nix the frills. Let's see if there's anything else on this rack, and then we can take a look over on that side.”
Miranda had to admit, she was kind of having fun. They'd stopped at the food court and picked up a couple of crepes before their venture into the bowels of the North Talos Mall – it wasn't the biggest mall in Paragon, but it was within walking distance of her mom's place, and there were a couple of outlet stores where they could browse through last years' designer labels at a fraction of what they cost elsewhere. She'd licked chocolate syrup and strawberry juice from her fingers as they'd wandered from store to store, looking through their fancier offerings. There had been a nice deep red dress that Miranda had had her eye on, but it was hastily returned to the rack when she'd caught a look at the price tag.
Marie flicked through the rack one dress at a time, passing by most, removing one here and there to get a good look at the entire piece before returning it to its siblings. Miranda did the same, starting at the other end.
“Let's try over there,” Marie suggested once they'd met in the middle, pointing to the displays across the store.
The two made their way over, and started leafing through yet another rack of last-years' offerings.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” One of the sales girls had snuck up on them while they were otherwise occupied. Miranda shook her head, not wanting to be a bother, but her mother took point.
“Yes, actually, that would be great. We've got to dress her,” Marie nodded her head towards her daughter, “in formal wear. She's a little small, so we're kind of limited on size, and it's for tonight, so we're also kind of limited on time.” Miranda reddened – embarrassed – and tried to pretend she wasn't there.
The sales girl tapped a long, red fingernail against her teeth. Miranda took the opportunity to check the girl's name tag: Virginia. “Actually, I'm not sure we have anything on the floor in your size – at least, nothing you'd want to be caught dead in,” her smile was friendly, and Miranda found herself smiling slightly in response, though she could still feel the redness in her cheeks.
“Bu-ut,” she continued, drawing the word out, “I might have something in the shipment that just came in. If you'll give me a second, I can bring a couple boxes up front, and we can root through those.”
“Sure!” Marie agreed enthusiastically, and Virginia disappeared through a door in the back of the store marked by a large Employees only sign.
She was back in under five minutes, two large boxes carefully balanced in one hand. Marie walked over to help, but Virginia waved her off. “Naw, don't worry about it. They're really heavy: I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.” She wasn't having any trouble with them herself though, and she juggled the second box into the air, lightly catching it with her other hand. She's a Meta, Miranda realized.
Virginia set the two boxes on the ground, a cutter appearing in her hand as if by magic, and then she was peeling open the top of the first box to reveal its contents.
The spent the next half hour digging through the tightly-packed outfits; a small pile of “maybe”s steadily growing on the counter next to Miranda. She reached into the box to grab the next item – something made of a dark blue, shimmering material. She drew it out, and let gravity unfold it for her.
“Oooh, nice,” Virginia said, noticing the piece. “That midnight would look good on you, I think.”
It was a nice dress. A very nice dress. Miranda ran her fingers along the stars picked out in silver embroidery that ran up the sleeves and back. The only problem was...
“It's too big,” Miranda said, looking at the “L” stamped on the tag.
Virginia smiled. “Try it on anyway. All these designers, they label all their sizes differently from each other. Besides, better too big than too small, right?”
Miranda nodded, and hid inside the changing room while she changed out of her t-shirt and jeans into the dress.
It wasn't the tent she expected it to be. It was still a little loose, but she could easily pin the drooping parts with safety pins, and no one should be the wiser.
She walked out of the changing room, self conscious.
Marie whistled. “Looking good, honey. That actually doesn't look half bad.” Miranda blushed at the compliment.
“Yeah, not bad, short stuff,” Virginia chimed in, her fingernail clicking against her teeth again. “You'll want to pin up the underarms, so they don't sag like that. And probably a bit in the chest,” she pinched her own shirt's cleavage area as an example. “Other than that, just a belt so you can actually see your curves, and I'd say it's perfect. You're lucky, too. Sometimes the clothes get damaged in the truck, or sometimes that's even the reason it comes to us in the first place. This one looks in fine condition.”
“Um, so, there's no tag...” Miranda said hesitantly. She did like the dress, but she was also aware that she wasn't going to be the one paying for it, and the decision ultimately fell to her mother.
Virginia hopped to her feet, dusting off her hands. “Lemme check out the price for you. It should be in the register that came with the shipment.” She retreated behind the check out, and pulled a large three ring binder onto the counter. She flipped through a couple pages, found the one she was looking for, and ran her finger down the page until she found the right entry.
“That one's forty,” she said. “Definitely not the cheapest one of the bunch, but it's been well marked down from its original.”
Miranda looked at her mother, trying to determine her reaction to the price. It was on her now.
“I have a belt that would work perfectly. We'll take it.”
Miranda tried not to smile too hard.
* * *
Virginia watched the two leave the store, returning the two boxes to the back where they could be properly inventoried and tagged. Quietly cursing her soft spot for the Metas in this town, she made her way back to the counter, pulled the pricing binder out again, and opened it up to the same page she had been on before. She grabbed a pen from beside the till, and added a few hastily scribbled notes before nodding, satisfied.* * *
Back at the dorms, Miranda's new dress carefully hung on the closet handle, already pre-pinned, one of her new CDs playing in the background. Cass was oddly absent. She turned her head to examine her hair from all angles, running a hand self-consciously through the blue streaks. The lady at the salon had had to assure her multiple times that it would wash out in one wash – two at the most – and that it wouldn't get all over everything before Miranda allowed her to put the dye in. They'd also insisted on a little makeup – rouge, and eye shadow that matched her new, temporary hair colour – though she'd said no to the lipstick. The fifty dollar price tag left her feeling guilty, especially after the cost of the dress: she'd have to make it up to her mom at some point.With the makeup, and the hair, and the dress, she almost felt like another person entirely. Maybe that's a good thing, she thought wryly. Maybe this one will be able to talk to people.
))
!” She squeaked, quickly pulling together all ten liters of water she was able to handle. A good amount came from the pipes under the sink, causing them to rattle unnervingly as water from farther down rushed in to fill the vacuum she'd created. She pulled the water into a ball, and threw it at where she thought her assailant was as she spun around to face him...