Chapter Twelve-"Tresspassing Superhero"

                                    

                                          
 No punishment. Absolutely no punishment for Sebastian. I'm not just talking about at home, but for everything in general. 
                          
 Dastan and Hayden were surely not going to get in trouble. It shocked the principal that Dastan could even do such a thing. And Hayden? He couldn't have detention because he's the star football player. So, due to that, the principal couldn't just give Sebastian detention so he was free of disciplinary action. 
                          
 I waited in the office for the remainder of lunch and stood when the principal's door was opened. Dastan walked out with nothing on his face. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. Not even remorse. He looked at me for a second before snapping his head away and walking off. Hayden came out next. He had tiny scrapes and a few bruises, but it was nothing to match the quality of his remorse as he tried to form words. He opened his mouth to say something but didn't because the warm body that appeared behind me belonged to Sebastian. Hayden's look turned cold and then he walked away, too. I turned to Sebastian. 
                          
 "What the hell was that about?" I asked. He sighed stressfully and reached up to grab the bridge in his nose, but then he realized his couldn't because there was a scrape across it that matched the maims across his face. 
                          
 "Nothing. Leave it alone," he said, starting to walk away from me. 
                          
 "What did Dad say?" I asked. 
                          
 "What do you think? There's obviously a barn full of hay to move around here," he spat, sarcastically. Our discipline back home was moving 95-120 lb. bales of hay across a football-field length clearing. That was it. I'm positive our father didn't even think about punishments here. We didn't get in trouble much anyways. 
                          
 Sebastian continued to speed up and walk away from me. What was up with him? Anytime Dastan and Hayden were around there was trouble between them! I have no idea how that's possible because we just got here. 
                          
 ***
                          
 "Honey, he got in a fight," Veronica said to my father. Sebastian sat on the couch. Dad was in the recliner. And Veronica was pacing around, not knowing what to do with Sebastian. 
                          
 "He was defending himself," my father defended. He looked over to my brother. "You were defending yourself, right?"
                          
 "I heard you lost the fight," Jeremy commented, higher on the stairs than me. I shot a glare to him. 
                          
 "You weren't even there," I sneered. 
                          
 "Yeah, but my friend Sarah's older sister goes to your school and she said that someone filmed it and Sebastian lost bad—"
                          
 "Shut up," I told Jem, defending Sebastian for some foreign reason, no matter if he pushed me away.
                          
 "Jem, go to your room," Dad ordered. I looked over to Jem as he stood there. 
                          
 "That means now, brat," I told him while ruffling his hair. 
                          
 "Angela, you can go too," Veronica added. 
                          
 "Come on—"
                          
 "Just go," Dad pressed. I rolled my eyes to see Jem sticking his tongue out at me before I lunged. I chased him all the way up the stairs—even stumbling—and then he beat me to his room. I hit the door once before going to my room. 
                          
 "You really are frustrated today, huh?" a voice scared me. I immediately threw myself into the door. Across from me, the Proliator stood in his uniform. 
                          
 "What the heck!?" I yelled. I started to open the door to report his presence to my family, but he stopped me by placing his hand on the door. Our bodies were inches apart and my breath stopped. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
                          
 "I'm checking up on you," he whispered, revealing the instance when I thought his posh accent had left him until he dragged out the "you."
                          
 "Why do I look like I need checked up on?" I stammered, pressing as much into the door as possible. 
                          
 "You were hurt," he reminded. "Plus, most people would be traumatized about—"
                          
 "Well I'm not 'most people'," I said to him, slipping under his barred arm and putting the room's floor between us. "What the heck are you doing here and how did you find me?"
                          
 This was creepy. Why was some superhero sneaking into my room to 'check up on me'? From the thousands of savings he's done, did he check up on all of those people too? Because, if so, he'd need time for that. And I was willing to have him leave here right now and go see any of those other people. 
                          
 "I have radars around this entire city and you don't think I could find you?" he asked, offended. 
                          
 "The question is why," I restated. We met, he saved me, I left. Why is he trying to reconnect with me? It actually scared me. 
                          
 "I felt like you were...scared of me last time we met," he confessed. 
                          
 "Are you kidding?" I asked him. Was I being punk'd? "You beat up three guys at once and then made them feel the same pain as the people that they wronged—"
                          
 "You noticed that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. 
                          
 "Doesn't everyone?" I asked him. He shook his head slowly. How could someone not notice that? 
                          
 "I've been...working here for years and no one's been straight-up about that," he informed as if saddened that his power was discovered. I wanted to know why he acted as if it was the end of the world. However, I wanted out of my room more than my need to be curious. 
                          
 "Who cares?" I asked him as if I didn't. "Everyone's seen you fight and that alone should make them afraid of you."
                          
 Suddenly, he appeared right in front of me. 
                          
 "You're afraid of me?" he whispered. 
                          
 "I didn't see you fight," I reminded. He looked down with a frown and we stayed in silence for that moment. Then, he stepped back from me. 
                          
 "I just wanted to come and make sure we were on good terms for the future's sake," he said. 
                          
 "And if we aren't?" I asked. "Would you let a group of guys assault me, then?"
                          
 What was with this guy? I wasn't a cruel person; I didn't hold grudges. I was quite open-minded, but with Proliator? No. I couldn't stand him and there was nothing in my body to tell me to stop the resentment. 
                          
 "No. I'd have a constant fight to protect without gratitude or appreciation," he insulted. That's when I felt bad. 
                          
 "Thank you," I suddenly blurted, feeling his disappointment from the depths of his eyes. 
                          
 "How are Kenneth and Kylie, by the way?" he asked. That's when I shuddered. 
                          
 "How do you know them?" I asked. Oh right, he had saved them from the plane crash. He fled the scene and I doubt he had a savior/victim chatting session to remember them, though. 
                          
 "I've known Kenneth for a while—not directly of course, you can ask your brother, but I hope that he and Kylie are—"
                          
 "How can you possibly know them?" I asked him. I hadn't known anyone with a British accent from Frankford. In fact, no one from anywhere further than Texas had ever really stayed in Frankford, let alone anywhere European. And he knew Kenneth and Sebastian? Who was this guy? Did that mean he knew me...and vice versa?
                          
 "We don't know each other," he said. Could he read minds too?
                          
 "How do you know Kenneth and my brother?" I asked him. I stared even more into his eyes, trying to place them with the many faces I know. His eyes widened and then he stepped back from me. 
                          
 "Normally, I don't like leaving people in the dark and I'd direct you to asking Sebastian, but that's not the best thing right now, so I must say goodbye," he said, backing up towards the window. 
                          
 "What?" I asked, now wanting him to stay. "What's that supposed to mean? You better not jump out of that—"
                          
 Of course he jumped. Out of disbelief, I rushed over to the window and saw him looking up to me with a bright white smile.