Armageddon: The Broken Man - ACT 1

Chapter 3 - Paparazzi

Chapter 3 - Paparazzi

>KEIRA FELTNER

I got home just after midnight. By that time, I was beyond tired, and so was my mom. She apologized for how small the bed was, but for me, it was fine. It was like staying at a hotel; everything seemed so different, so unreal.

Of course, I resigned just in time to go back to school only a week and a half behind.

A lot has changed since I've been to public school. For one, I'm not the bottom of the food chain. On top of that, I'm a 'cool kid.' And to make it even better, I've been given special permission to answer phone calls in class, as long as they're from the FHTC.

I called Nixon on my first day, after being hounded on the bus by the underclassmen. They swarmed like bees, and I had no choice but to try and get a response from Dames to avoid being eaten alive.

"Hello?" His voice drones, and several eighth grade girls squeal.

"Uh, hey Nixon." I chirp, glancing sideways at the underclassmen currently swooning all over the place. "I-It's Keira. What's up?"

"To sum it up, I got pissed, beat the living shit out of Cadmus, and now I'm locked in my room for about 3 more hours." He mutters, with the resentment in his tone thick. "What's that background noise?"

"Uh, just some kids on the bus." I muse, finally looking at something besides the people currently staring me down, obsessed with my every move. "They hounded me into calling you, and I thought I probably could have talked to you anyways."

"The bus?" He sputters, and giggles erupt all around me. "Where are you?"

"In D.C., where did you think I was?"

By day 2, word had spread that I was back in public school. I could barely even step inside the building before I was swarmed by dozens of people, all asking questions. I only got to answer about 3 people before the bell for first period rung, and then the crowd dispersed for about 10 seconds. A new crowd formed, with several people offering to take me to my first class.

Even the teachers couldn't believe their eyes. I had Mathematics as my first class, and Mrs. Prentiss froze in place when I tried to introduce myself. After about a minute of her just staring blankly, she asked to take a picture with me.

We ended up having an entire conversation about how she couldn't believe that the Keira Feltner herself was in her Mathematics class. She kept saying that she was so honored, and all this other 'oh you're famous' stuff.

I had been in public school - high school for that matter - for less than half a week, and I was already top dog. People never left me alone; I was walked back and forth to classes, constantly hung up in conversations, and when I finally sat down at lunch, my empty table was overflowing in less than a minute.

I couldn't hate it. I had gotten so used to being hated and alone that actually being liked was overwhelming. It was a massive, sudden change, and I loved it.

At the end of day 2, when the final bell rung, I was swept away to what was the cafeteria, about 3 hours ago. A crowd pushed me towards a familiar face, with anything but perfect posture, and a single blue stripe of dyed hair, standing out against a brown mess.

"Hey, Sparks." She chirps, poisoning her tone with a fatal dose of sweetness. "Never thought I'd see you again."

"Uh, hey, Becki." I sputter, and she only smirks, blowing bubbles in her bright pink gum. "H-How've you been?"

"Oh, just amazing." She beams, shifting her weight onto her other foot. "But I want to know something about you. Tell me, how's it going with Dames?"

This couldn't get much more awkward. I'm trapped in a conversation with an ex-bestie, surrounded by a crowd of listeners, who all want in on the action. And as far as I can tell, Becki's gotten a lot preppier, which kills me a little. She was an alright person once, but then she started shopping at Forever 21 - or something like it - thinking that it would make her infinitely cooler.

"Hello?" She croons, calling out a giggle from her legion of dumbstruck proxies. "Sparks? You there?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." I mutter, already glancing around, looking for the easiest way out. "But Nixon and I, w-we're doing okay, but-"

"But what?" She trills, starting to get annoyed with the way I avoid her questions. "Did you have a fight or something?"

"W-What? No." I splutter as she inches closer, trying to mask the way her eye twitches in annoyance. Nobody's denied her an answer for this long before, and she just hates not having the upper hand. "I-I just had to-"

I'm saved by Nixon's ringtone. The room drops to silence as Becki clears her throat. Her eyes burn through to the back of my head as I back away, reaching for my phone. I answer Nixon's call, and Becki turns to leave, fixing a stray little piece of hair.

"Hey, Keira. How's highschool treating you?" Nixon chirps, nearly succeeding in lifting my bubble of tension.

"Oh, uh, great." I try to break through the crowd, keeping my voice just as low as my gaze.