Wrangling teenage emotions is hard enough on good days, but what if on bad days they could manifest as giant flesh and blood monsters?
Pacific Rim meets Friday Night Lights as knee-jerk rebel Sage Sawyer is forced to join her high school "tourneytub...
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It's the first day of school and Sage Sawyer already got detention.
She's pretty damn proud of herself, to be honest. It's a personal record.
Sage sits at the back of a half empty classroom, waiting impatiently to be released. Until then though, she lounges back in her usual getup: battered black leather jacket with the artfully torn dark jeans and the sneering lips blowing bubblegum balloons of colorful defiance. Her high tops are crossed over her graffitied desk.
Sage puts a lot of effort into looking effortless.
A sea of empty desks spreads out around her. Even her fellow detention inmates like to keep their distance. For some twisted reason, this makes her smile.
Finally, the teacher looks up from his laptop at the front of the room.
"Can we go? I wanna get outta here before I get so bored my brain literally starts melting through my skull. Plus, I'm gonna be late for work." Sage says over the distinct crack of her latest gum bubble.
The teacher sighs. Whatever message he's been trying to send has deflated as thoroughly as one of her pink balloons.
"Fine-"
Every miscreant in the room is on their feet and out the door before he can even finish his first word. Outside in the hall, Sage passes the familiar line of burgundy and brown lockers. She reminds herself how little she missed Jupiter High over the summer. She allows herself a quiet, bitter smirk. Nothing good ever happened at school.
As if to confirm Sage's suspicions, a spine tingling roar rips through the building.
She stops in her tracks.
Sage doesn't want to, of course. It's the last thing she wants to do right now. Whatever nonsense is going down is none of her business. Not her problem. It's time to leave. Sage wasn't lying when she said she's about to be late for work. She should just head for the main entrance, forget she heard anything, continue living her life as if she heard nothing at all. She would be well within her rights.
But Sage has heard something.
She can't just-
Another roar. Louder this time. It's definitely coming from the tubhouse. Sage sags in relief. The tub jockeys are probably up to their usual shenanigans. She nearly moves on.
But then she hears a panicked shout, cut short.
Maybe this isn't just some everyday jockey hijinks. Maybe it's something else.
Something dangerous.
Sage Sawyer walks toward it.
She swallows. Squares her shoulders. Clenches her fists. Sage is running now; sneakers squeaking, streaking across the shiny school floors. Eventually she finds what she's been looking for. The long, narrow corridor leading over to the tubhouse.
