Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 27

Before he had even left that classroom on the first floor, Tom had decided that this evening hadn't been a total loss. It hadn't been a total victory either, of course, but then, few victories were ever really complete. This one, granted, was more marred than others, but... well. There was some satisfaction to be had in it still.

The problems with it were many and mostly took the form of Steele's words, which, however hard he tried, Tom couldn't quite get out of his head. They seemed stuck there, on loop, no matter how many times he told himself that she didn't know what she was talking about and she was just a silly little girl who had been hurt by a man whose ambition and drive and purpose she was too small-minded to appreciate. Her ramblings about fire and gardens were just that: ramblings, born from the petty heart of an plain, simple, utterly ordinary girl who would never understand what it meant to be extraordinary.

This was harder to believe than it should have been. Mostly, Tom supposed, because it was hard to think of Lucy Steele as ordinary. Not when she could look at him and see through him. Not when a single blink of her eyes seemed to say so much. Not when she had guessed things about him after a single conversation that not a soul in the world had ever noticed before. Not when the words she spoke got stuck like this. Not when she always seemed to manage to not just make him listen, but make him think.

Of course, even if she was extraordinary, it would have been easy enough to believe she simply didn't realize what such a quality meant, what could be done with it, the incredible gift extraordinary people could be to the world. Except... except the way she had spoken about her father had made it sound like she did understand. Because there had been awe in her tone. Reverence, even. She had spoken about him burning the way the church leaders of his childhood had spoken about the mad kings of old, with a note of something like respect in their voices, that half breathless edge in their tone that said that even as they condemned these tyrants and traitors, they knew that they were something greater than these mere commoners could ever be.

And coming from Steele, that had tripped Tom up. It had been a moment of simultaneous victory and defeat. Because in that moment, it had become impossible to say that Steele didn't understand exactly what extraordinary people could do. In that moment, she had spoken of her father like he was a god. And she had found him wanting anyway.

And in that last bit, the victory lay. Because that moment might have spelled defeat for his dismissal of this foolish girl who he should have been able to call ordinary and ignorant, but in that moment, he had also found darkness in her. And Sweet Merlin, what darkness it was.

He had suspected, after so many blanket assurances that she was fine, always fine, perfectly totally and completely fine, that there was something hidden there. So he had expected to find some clouds, lurking in those supposedly sunny skies, but this... this was no mere shadow. This was a pitch darkness. A black hole. A starless sky lingering behind a painted facade. It had been, for a moment, like looking into the mirror.

Because there had been more than just hurt there. There had been anger. Resentment. Something burning and bubbling and aching. Tom was sure of it. He had seen it. He had watched as something had slipped, some support tumbled loose and suddenly it hadn't been sweet Lucy, gentle Lucy, practical, pragmatic, comforting Lucy standing before him. It had been a haunted girl who wanted revenge on her ghosts.

And that Tom could work with.

That sweet, steady, innocent girl she had been pretending to be had lacked pressure points. She'd told him as much, too. She was comfortable in her skin, had nothing to hide and nothing to run from and nothing to fear. But this girl with darkness in her core... That was a darkness Tom understood. A darkness he could use. Especially when it was nestled inside an unassuming girl who liked to pretend it didn't exist. Especially when it was tucked away inside someone who had the potential to be truly extraordinary.