The Perks of Being a Freak (Editing)

70. Punching People Hurts

But I didn’t leave just yet. If I got caught playing hooky, it would just be playing into my parents expectations of me.

So, after retrieving the grate and wriggling back into my room, I propped it back up and went back to my bed to get some more sleep.

It was hours later, when the sun had made the hills its grave and no one stirred in the house that I woke, angry, and very hungry.

But the door was still locked, so I couldn’t go to the kitchen.

Thinking fast, I grabbed my wallet and pulled the vent in through the hole.

Five minutes later, and I was walking into a 24-hour diner.

No one looked at me weirdly, which was nice. There weren’t many people inside, which was expected, but the few who were there looked to be trapped in their own little world.

I ordered waffles, bacon, and a couple of eggs, along with a chocolate milk, before sitting back and staring out the window.

Newton was a little scary at nighttime, when the bad people came out, looking to play. Maybe I was safer than some, with my handy-dandy wings, but I wasn’t invincible. I could be killed by these ordinary, greedy humans that stalked the streets.

But that didn’t stop me from running out when I saw an older couple held at gunpoint across the street.

Benny! Cover my face, not my eyes, and my hair. NOW!!

Benny, half asleep, complied.

“Put the purse on the ground, lady,” the man growled. Shaking, the elder complied and lay the leather bag by her feet. Without thinking, I ran up behind the man silently and grabbed for the gun.

Obviously, he wasn’t prepared for this, because he dropped it into my hand.

The gun was heavier than I thought it would be.

I backed away, holding it away from my chest and towards the mugger, who looked surprised.

“Who’re you?” He demanded, stepping forward.

“Don’t,” I warned, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Could I really shoot him? I had never fired a gun before, and I didn’t know if I would be able to.

And apparently this man knew that.

Because he laughed and held his hand out toward me. “Gimme the gun, girlie.”

“Not gonna happen,” my voice sounded unreasonably steady.

“There’s no way you’re gonna shoot me, so what’s the point?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the older couple run, the woman leaving her purse on the ground. 

“Actually,” I nodded. “You’re right. There is no way that I’m going to shoot you.” I tossed the gun off to the side. “But I am going to give you a chance to repent for your sins.”

“Lady, are you high?” He scoffed, and I fought to keep myself from grinning.

“Last chance, get on your knees and pray,” I instructed. The mugger took an angry step forward, and I extended my wings.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

I lunged forward and threw my weight behind my fist. His nose cracked under my knuckles, and hot blood sprayed my hand and my arm. The mugger dropped like a stone.

Wincing, I shook out my hand. Punching people hurt like a bitch.

I picked up the woman’s purse and followed the couple at a quick walk until I came out of the alley and saw them, huddled together on the corner, whispering frantically into a payphone.

“Hey, lady!” I called. The woman turned, eyes wide. I tossed her purse towards her, but she never took her eyes off of me.

That’s when I realized that I had never fully closed my wings.

“Are you an angel?” The man asked. I nearly laughed at the irony.

“Hardly,” I shook my head. “I’m just a freak who likes sticking her nose into other peoples business.”

And then I took off.

But there was something inside of me that was glowing with warmth and happiness.

I found that I really, really liked helping people.