The Superhero's Damsel

Operation Embarrass Yourself Successful

©ImaginaryWrites 2013. All rights reserved.

Cobalt Blaze, Goniz’s local superhero has done it again! From stopping robberies to helping old ladies, and constantly have time to save his damsel in distress. Whoever you are Cobalt Blaze, Goniz thanks you.

This is ridiculous, I sighed, and doesn’t this town have anything else to talk about? Cobalt Blaze this, Cobalt Blaze that. Sure, I am a biased of view. You would be too, if the town constantly pushed their way to your door asking for an interview or the latest relationship development with the town’s resident superhero. The first time it happened, yeah it was flattering, but if it happened for half a year and it’s still happening, it is bound to get on your nerves.

I slammed down the newspaper on the coffee table, earning a disapproving look from my mother. I rolled my eyes.

“Sorry mum.”

Sigh, in this town it seems as if nothing can escape the public’s opinions and critics. Just because I’m accident prone and Cobalt Blaze always seemed to be there at the right time, doesn’t mean we’re dating. Or about to be married. What’s more, it isn’t as if the town of Goniz is very small either. It’s probably about the size of that Asian country, Singsomething. Or possibly twice as big. So I really don’t understand why there aren’t any other more interesting news articles adorning the front page. He didn’t even ‘save’ me that many times. They just somehow link it all together and poof, I’m always in the middle of all the gossip.

“Chloe, if you don’t leave now you might be late for school!” Mum hollered from the kitchen.

Stealing a glance at the Duck-shaped clock, yes a duck-shaped clock my dad is obsessed over, “Shoot,” I cursed. Fifteen minutes on a day after the newspaper published an article about Cobalt is definitely not enough for me to reach school on time. I mean, have you seen those pesky reporters. Most of them would kill for a statement just because a statement from me could mean a few floors up the butt-kissing ladder. And as if I want to help those blood-thirsty paparazzi. Furthermore, Dad left early for a meeting, so that means I cannot get a ride.

I slipped on my converses and sneaked out the back door that the paparazzi can’t access. The back door has only one problem though. A-metre-high fence. I quickly secured my bag, and hoisted myself over the fence, obviously falling flat on my face. Ouch. I dusted myself and finally noticed my 18 year old best friend, doubled over in laughter. Said bestfriend is now apparently rolling on the ground.

So I’m not the most coordinated or graceful person in the world, but is this really necessary.

“Are you done mocking my non-existent coordination you moron?”

“Ouch, Chloe it hurts, right here,” Hunter pouted slightly, placing his hand over his heart, “and to think I wanted to fearlessly fight through the crowd and fly you into the sunset where we can live together forever and adopt cats, naming them Cobalt and Blaze after your darling boyfriend, Mr Superhero.” Hunter started grinning like a Cheshire cat, fighting the laughter threatening to burst through.

“You’re so dramatic, Hunter,” I laughed, “and he’s not my boyfriend so you can stop your fantasizing.”

“Whatever! Come on, get on already, we don’t want to miss Fingerless’ class,” He laughed, swinging his leg over his Harley. Fingerless was a nickname our class got for our chemistry teacher. She has only one thumb on her right hand and three fingers on the other. And she definitely is the meanest – wait, meanest is the understatement of the century – evilest teacher in the world. Once, Hunter needed to use the toilet badly – due to a water drinking competition during break – and she just didn’t allow him to go. Instead, she purposely started to drink her own water and spilling it. And she did it while smirking. When Hunter dashed out to class to pee, she placed a detention slip on his table. Like, who does that? Sentencing innocent bladder-full boys to detention?