Chapter Two

"Stupid Mom, making me go to stupid school..." Standing at the curb in front of Lawndale High, Quinn ground her teeth together in frustration. "Doesn't she care that I'm an unwell person?!"

No, she didn't. Unmoved by Quinn feeble protests, Helen Morgendorffer had lain a hand on her daughter's cool forehead and pronounced her well. Then she scolded her for wanting to play hookey and even scooped Quinn into the car, bed hair and all, and drove her to school. Quinn shuddered, trying to shake off her mother's driver's side lecture about setting goals in life and meeting them. "Quinn, if you don't start taking life seriously now, you'll have nothing but a mess of hopelessness and confusion in your future. Is that what you want?"

Oh Mom, if you only knew.

Quinn turned around slowly and looked at the main building of her school, whose crumbling red brick and cheap window finishes somehow looked ominous. She glanced around her. The last bell had just rung, and most of the quad was empty and still. A soft breeze chilled the back of her neck, causing her to wrap her arms tightly around her body. Quinn took a deep breath and stared at the entrance doors. She wished more than anything that Daria were here right now. Even if she didn't believe that Phelps was an alien hunting for an evil presence set loose in their school, she would at least have some good theories. Or funny comments. Nothing like sarcasm to cut into the most frightening scenario and render it harmless. Quinn took a step toward the entrance. She would go find Daria. Daria wouldn't mind cutting a class to tell her if she was crazy. Maybe she really was crazy. Maybe she had just dreamt that Phelps told her...

Quinn took another step forward -- then stumbled back, falling with a heavy thud onto the hard concrete. Shakily, Quinn sat up and brushed the dirt off of a couple of fresh, oozing scrapes. She took a deep breath and gasped from the pain in her sternum. It was overwhelming, as though she had literally been punched in the chest. Quinn dabbed at tears in her eyes and tried to take smaller breaths; they came more easily, but the pain was still there. Looking up, she then noticed that the entrance doors to the school seemed a lot closer than they had been before. But she hadn't moved, except in reverse. Quinn's heart began to thud as a cold feeling crept over her. She felt somehow that it would be a very bad thing to go through those doors. She slowly picked herself up, then did the only thing that made sense.

She ran.

All Quinn was aware of was a stretch of concrete sidewalk before her. She had no idea where she was going; she just had to put as much distance between herself and Lawndale High as possible.

One foot in front of the other... one in front of the other. Quinn did not think to look behind her. She didn't think of who could be watching. It was only when the guttural sound of the car engine overwhelmed the sounds of her breathing that she turned.

Before she could scream, the shiny metal bumper closed in. Quinn felt its full, heavy impact on her left hip and found herself hurtling through the air. Images exploded in her mind, but no coherent thoughts came together as she saw the pale grey street lying beneath her. All she knew was that it was getting very close very quickly, as gravity pulled her in to meet it. Quinn braced herself for a face-full of bone-shattering cement, and would have gotten one if, for all that was holy...

... it weren't Trash Day.

Instead of feeling her body smash to pieces all at once, Quinn landed with a plop on top of a garbage bag, which lay on top of several other garbage bags in a giant garbage truck. Quinn sat up and rubbed herself off, trying to see how badly she was hurt. She felt such tired relief, she could have stretched out on all of those bags and slept for the rest of the day... if not for the fact that, suddenly, she felt a force of a different kind -- a heavy, smelly, plastic one. Groaning, Quinn shoved off a freshly-stowed garbage bag and faced the sheepish worker who had tossed it in.

"Ugh!" she said, rolling her eyes, "I'd rather have hit the cement!"

The worker held out his hands and gently helped her back onto the street. As Quinn was straightening up, she heard a high-pitched wailing of her name. She turned to find Mr. O'Neill running toward her.

"Quinn! Oh Quinn, it was terrible! I saw the whole thing!" He raced toward her and engulfed her in a hug, setting all of Quinn's cuts and bruises aflame. She pulled away -- more out of embarrassment than from the pain.

"I was getting my morning triple soy latte with hazelnut when I saw that madman hit you! Oh Quinn, it was so terrible! He just sped off! Are you all right?!"

"Yes." Quinn replied, suppressing another eye roll.

"Come on, I'll take you back to school --"

He tugged at Quinn's hand, but she wouldn't budge. "I don't want to go to school! I want to go to the police!"

"But Quinn, we're only a block away, and the nurse can check you out to make sure nothing's broken-woken. You don't want to have a sad, grumpypuss frown when you file the police report, do you?"

"No." If O'Neill were the evil alien, that would certainly explain a lot.

"Come on, then, let's make sure you're all nice and fixed up."

O'Neill took her arm with a force that Quinn didn't think he possessed. She searched his behavior for signs of malevolence, but he seemed no different from the dopey English teacher that she had had for over two years. It then struck Quinn that maybe there was an outside force at work, allowing O'Neill to have such unusual strength. Maybe I can't leave the school...