The Dilemma

Spilled Coffee

I know this is annoying to ask, but I'd love to fave more votes and comments. I'm sorry, but it just helps me know what I did right or wrong. So thank you to those who have been voting and commenting and I'm sorry that this chapter is so short.

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My back was aching by the end of the day, apparently the teachers didn't believe in going easy on the new kid. Something about having to catch up, resulting in packets and textbooks worth of information that'd probably end with a migraine due to the amount of work because of a hell that goes by the name of school. I could already feel my head pounding.  I shifted my bag as I slowly moved down the hallway, my eyes searching just in case I had another unwanted encounter with Samantha.   Hopefully this time, I could avoid her poisonous lips that'd probably ruin my sex life later on in life.

            On the downside, I hadn't seen Katherine since her unexpected greeting to my math teacher. I surprisingly hadn't gotten in trouble for being acquaintances with the black-haired beauty, but everybody seemed way too familiar with the sassy girl that managed to kiss me without knowing me. My hand ran through my hair, the ends of my hair crunchy from the gel. Starbucks was just around the corner, the cool breeze ruffled my jacket, I pulled on my hood. It was better that way, safer, I wasn't stupid to know that security cameras were everywhere.

            Just around the corner was what my taste buds were craving, the sweetness of coffee in a cup that almost anyone can recognize in a heartbeat. Starbucks.  I longed for the smoldering coffee that would end up burning my tongue and insides, yet satisfying them with their different blends of tastes. I could feel my tongue licking my lips already, my wallet not even touched and body halting right outside the doors that blocked me off from entering. Just one pull, I pushed, the door didn't budge. I pushed again, my eyes meeting the sign, my small smile faltered.  I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

            The delightful smell of coffee and different assorted drinks greeted me, causing my body to shiver from the blissful aroma. This was exactly what I needed, I thought to myself as I grabbed a chair from a vacant table, slinging my bag over the chair and coat on the edge of the seat.

            My hands sank into the confinements of my pockets, fishing out the leathery wallet and moving towards the counter, ordering a latte without second thought. I pulled out the change, not bothering to collect the money and then Sarah and Dean came to mind. I should have gone home, to their home. I should have informed them of my whereabouts. I was a dead man. A dead man with a delicious cup of Starbucks.

            My foot tapped as I waited for the steaming cup, my mouth watering as the scent of cinnamon and coffee wafting towards my nostrils. Was it even possible to feel like one of those white girls, when a guy. The foam cup was hot to the touch needed a zarf to prevent burnt fingers. Surely enough, there it was in a white cup of smoldering steam; waiting for my lips to sip from the lid. Thanking the barista without second thought, I was out of the door, bag slung around my shoulder, ready to attend my funeral.

            The stroll down the sidewalk was quick, seeing that a gunshot rattled the air causing people to tense and the atmosphere to suddenly become heavier. It seemed as if a red light had suddenly replaced my green light, causing me to stop dead in my steps. A gun, a gun, a--someone screamed and the show was on. As if the sudden red light faded to a green, my coffee was dropped and splattered to the ground, not a single sip even taken from the cup. My bag however, wasn't something I could rid of so easily. But another thought came to my mind, my head already covered with a purple hood from my jacket. Swallowing, I realized that I had little time to react and that maybe I could possibly get into harm's way, but someone was already there.

            My stomach was swelling with nerves, the anticipation never leaving as I thought of my next move, but I didn't have time to think. I only had time to react and I did. The floor has suddenly left, only air beneath me and the scattering of crowds stopped and pointed. Both positive and negative comments left their mouths, but I had no time to focus on what they were saying. I swallowed, soaring higher up in the air and hoping that the Government wasn't on their way, I was hoping to save that problem for last if I was lucky. Slinging my bag on top of a rooftop, I quickly flew to the scene, having to dodge a couple of pigeons on the way. My nose scrunched, keeping the hood on to hide my face, the only disguise I truly had. By the time I was there, the body was lying in a pool of its own blood and a girl in tight spandex's with a mask covering her eyes was staring right next to her with a flood of paparazzi surrounding her. Her head lifted up and she glanced at me, a sly smirk crossing her face.

            "You're late, Super Boy, she's long dead." Her head tilted to the side, nudging in the direction of a man in a suit. "And that is who did it, so are you honestly going to stay here or actually do something with those powers of yours?"

            Within a blink of the eye, the girl had disappeared in thin air and the man in the tan suit was off in a rush, dropping the gun and leaving me to chase after his trail.

            I didn't know what to do; I couldn't run if my life depended on it at all. What type of wannabe-hero couldn't run? If there was a definition, my face would surely be there and amongst the wanted page in the tabloids. Wait, the latter was already there. Running my hands through my dyed hair, I took off after the man. Pushing through bodies who wanted to see what was going on. My head shook and I could see the patch of blonde hair in the distance, turning left past a pizzeria.

            Groaning in annoyance, I followed suit until a sound of blades from a helicopter caught my ears. My body tensed, my legs kept running, and I knew it was either my end or the killers end. A fifty-fifty chance or a zero percent chance of death. I picked up the speed, my insides cramping and legs turning to gelatin. My lungs ached, making me all more aware that I shouldn't be running in the first place. I cringed at the thought, unsure if I should take flight or let the man get away. The helicopters were coming closer, men were shouting, people were pointing, and once against I was flying through the skies and the killer was coming closer.

            Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, five. I sprung at him mid-flight, my body tackling his as my arms and face were covered in scratches. I winced in pain, having wish that I was able to heal myself. I couldn't, making matters worse. Rubbing my neck, I rolled off the man and took a quick look at him. He looked as if he were in his mid-twenties, possibly why he was still good at running.

            "Shit," I mumbled, having realized that the hood fell back against the jacket, needing to be pulled back on. The guy groaned beneath me and the girl with black hair and spandex was suddenly there, a grin plastering her face.

            "Well, well, well, Super Boy. You really are sloppy with your work, but I think it's time to actually KO the killer, don't you think? He's only going to get up and get away." She chimed, causing my eyebrows to furrow at who should could be. No thoughts came to mind and I swung my elbow back, catching him in the forehead. Unconscious.

            "There you go, stranger." I scoffed, rolling my eyes. But, the minute I did open my eyes, something was stuffed against my mouth and nose. I inhaled. The world went dizzy, the fabric smelt sweet. The girl disappeared and I was falling backwards into the arms of a Government official.