The Hothead and The Ice Queen

One

The blaring alarm clock on my bedside table pulled me out of my slumber. Begrudgingly I shut it up with a hard hit. As I sat up in bed, I came to the awful realization that today was the first day of high school. Not only that, it was my first day of high school in a completely new neighborhood. And to make matters worse, we moved so late in the summer, and I was so caught up in helping my dad get the house ready, I made no friends.

See, my dad, Jason Winters was in the military, which was also where he met my mother. They served together. Then, I came into the picture. If it weren't for the fact that I was the spitting image of my mother, according to Dad, I'd think I was adopted. Dad and I look nothing alike. Where he had copper skin, I was as fair as they came. He had warm brown eyes while I had piercing blue-gray. And if Dad decided to grow out his hair, I knew for a fact that it wouldn't be platinum blonde, practically white like mine.

I never knew my mother because she left Dad and me soon after I was born. The way my dad described it, one minute she was sleeping in the hospital bed while I slept in the incubator, and when he came back from the cafeteria, she was gone and I was crying hysterically. Because he didn't keep pictures of her after she broke his heart, I couldn't imagine her in my mind. Instead of her, I pictured a shadowy figure.

My dad finally told me what she looked like after I came home from school one day in tears because a bully told me I was adopted and my dad wasn't my real dad. I was too sensitive for my own good back then. There were times I wished I didn't know anything because sometimes, when I looked in the mirror, I'd see her and become angry. I wondered if Dad felt the same thing when he looked at me. Was there a part of him that resented me?

The military was all my dad knew, he grew up in a military family, but he joined the reserves to take care of me. I probably ruined his dreams. And it didn't end there.

Unfortunately, with only one income, dad and I had to move to where there was work as a building inspector and contractor. Now, I never minded too much, knowing how hard it was on him. He was so hard-working, and I respected him a lot. But what if he did in fact resent me for how his life turned out?

Shaking my head, I forced myself from my toxic thoughts. It was my first day at Sky High, the school for superpowered teens to become the next generation of enhanced crime-fighters. Dad believed that Cyro and Hydrokinesis would be a straight-shot to the Hero Track. He was right, of course. My powers were strong, but I couldn't imagine hurting anybody— purposely or accidentally— not even a villain. Ice magic was no joke; I could end up seriously hurting someone if I wasn't careful, and I didn't want anyone to view me as a monster. My goal for the next four years was to just learn how to better control my powers, Hero Track be damned.

I got out of bed to start my morning routine. "Rise and shine, maggot! Don't wanna be late for your first day!" I rolled my eyes at Dad's military language. He wasn't one for being quiet. He would always say he didn't have any powers, but I was convinced his vocal cords or something about him was enhanced. I mean, I was a small girl, sure, but Dad was enormous. Muscles galore. Who knew military training meant looking like the Hulk? Minus the green skin.

"I'll be down in a minute!" I smiled as I finished adding shimmer to my cheekbones after applying foundation, mascara, and blush to enhance my features. Afterwards, I changed into my 'First Day' clothes.

As I bounced down the stairs, I heard dad singing to himself as he cooked breakfast. I quietly snuck up next to him. "Hey, dad." He turned around quickly and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my mouth at his shocked look. "I'm ready."

"Ninja points for sneaking up on me. You look great. Perfect timing too. Breakfast?" I looked over his shoulder to see what he was making–pancakes– and nodded my head before reaching up to kiss his cheek. He smiled at me and passed a plate across the breakfast bar piled high with fluffy pancakes. I licked my lips with anticipation and immediately dug in. He always made a point to make breakfast on my first day of school. It usually consisted of pancakes or waffles or french toast. As I ate with gusto, Dad slid a glass of orange juice towards me before turning off the stove.