The Scrapped

Prologue/Chapter 1

{Prologue}

"Scapegrace Alizabeth Dé Vión

Aged 17.

Junior Class.

Request for transfer.

No known "Special Abilities"."

Eris raised a slender brow above one of her dark eyes as she stared at the open manilla file on her desk. It was quite an unimpressive application. Even students with far better grades than this one didn't make it to her office, if they were marked with "No Abilities". As if to add insult to injury, it also said that she was a trouble maker. A list of her charges took up three sheets of paper. This child had been through the court system more times than Goku had been revived.

Eris lifted a perfectly manicured finger to her white, office-grade phone. She pressed the intercom button.

"Yes, Miss Vônri?" the young female intern's voice came over the speaker.

"Donna, would you care to explain to me, just /how/ a delinquent's record was submitted to be reviewed?" Eris tapped her fingers on her desktop, awaiting the girl's response. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across her darkened office. Her complexion was alabastar, causing the ruby liptstick on her full lips to stand out exuberantly. Her deep ebony ringlets fell perfectly down her neck. She smirked in vanity.

"Oh, forgive me, madam. But there was a file Master Bastion had delivered here last night. It was addressed to you, so I submitted it with the other applicants." Donna responded.

"Okay. That's all I needed."

She hung up and sifted through the uninformative file once again. This time she stumbled across a slip of paper she'd neglected to notice the first time.

"Eris, give this one a chance. She shows promise. And I'll leave it up to you to uncover her "talents". Do not disappoint me.

I remain,

Professor Bartimus Bastion, Headmaster of Bastion Academy for the Scrapped."

Pressing the call button again, she said, "I lied. One more thing. Get an acceptance letter over-nighted to Norfolk. Address it to Scapegrace Dé Vión."

"Certainly, ma'am."

When she cut the line again, she picked up a smooth, glossy Polaroid photo from the student record. Scapegrace didn't look all that special. Her frayed, deep magenta hair was cut short around her porcelain face, set off by her bright green eyes. In the photograph, she was wearing a navy and gray Letterman-type jacket with a hood on it and draw strings hanging down in the front. Her hands were stuffed into its front pockets as she leaned back against a fence. All in all, she resembled any other run of the mill punk teenager.

"Well, Scapegrace, let's see what's so great about you."

{Chapter 1 - Resistance of the Inevitable}

"Mum! Please don't do this to me!" Desperately, I followed my mother around our townhouse. She sighed, walking into the blindingly bright kitchen while snapping a pearl earring into her lobe. I squinted, but it took a moment to see straight; the sun shone in through the uncovered windows and patio doors, reflecting off of the stainless steel appliances.

"You know there's nothing i can do, darling. Just be glad you are being sent to a school, rather than a juvenile pennantentary." she said.

I crossed my arms and leaned on the island.

"You /know/ that wasn't my fault. He snuck up on me. And you say "school" , but it sounds more like a prison to me. "Bartimus Bastion's Academy for the Scrapped"? /Scrapped/, mum! Why don't they just label us 'society's rejects'?" Exhaling irritably, I adjusted my black sweater.