Mac Vs PC: Infected

iRIP

"You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life." —Steve Jobs (Macintosh & Apple)

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Piper's knee slammed into the weak flesh of man, crumpling it beneath the power of woman. The feminine squeal echoed from the swing sets to the tire swings, calling out to those miles away that Piper Connelly didn't take shit from anyone.

"Take it back." Missing front teeth cradled Piper's tongue, her lisp pronounced the threat with vengeance. Small ten years old hands held her victim's shoulders as he bent over to grab his broken jewels; straightening her arms, Piper faced the chubby Jeremy Huvane. "Take it back. Now."

"Dumb..." Blue eyes squinted through his slanted lids; fear and pride swirled in his irises. His eyelids tethered back the tears that begged for release, holding his pride in as Piper shoved him again. "Girl."

Piper's internal justice system ignited as she rushed the heavy twelve-year-old, her shoulder crushing against his stomach, the flab collapsing under her anger. Her knee pressed against his thigh, silently threatening the red head; her forearm pressing against his throat, cutting off the gender slurs and accusations. "I will yank out your tongue if you don't take it back, Twinkie."

Jeremy's face matched the color of his hair, his eyes bulging in submission. His face might have meant sorry by this time, but Piper wouldn't take an answer submitted under torture nor did she offer second chances. She was eleven years old, old enough to deal with her own problems; and if the biggest boy in school wanted to call her a girl... well she'd just handle it herself. No one would ever call her that again.

With a free hand, Jeremy closed the distance between them, cutting through the air to connect with Piper's chest. Fumbling, he groped what separated him from her. "Gurwl," he choked as her arm bore down, and everything in her went on alert. She'd been touched there during games, a slip here and there, but this feeling never followed the action; this shame. The silence of the crowd was deafening.

She felt... violated.

She wanted to back away and curl into herself, she wanted her mother, she wanted to go home. She didn't back away in fear that he knew of other places that scared her. She knew she was different than the boys she played with; she had different parts, different advantages, and different disadvantages. Why didn't she feel pain when he touched her as she had kicked him? Why did this new feeling hurt more?

If this was part of being a girl, she wanted nothing to do with it.

"Stop this right now." An older voice entered the battle, a grown-up. "Get up this instant." Mr. Synder barreled through the crowd of kids, staring them down with his adult look. "All of you are just as responsible, sitting around cheering on this sickening behavior."

The teacher halted, staring at Piper's chest and Jeremy's hands. Marching past the front line of boys that stood as crowd control, his eyes lost the disapproving glare as it morphed into a twisted mix of fear, shock and disgust.

Piper moved away from the boy, not for the threat of discipline; but because she thought the look of disgust was at her. At this point she needed her hands to cover her chest, she wasn't the only one to notice her changes.

"Get up right now, Mr. Huvane. Miss Ward, come here." Mr. Synder reached to grab Jeremy right from underneath her, as she rolled into the mud. All Mr. Synder did was motion for her to stand up. Nobody would touch her.