From North America - Lizzie, with the power of wind Date: 9/15, early morning Character: Lizzie (narrative) Location: The bathroom in her house Warnings: The odd swear word Summary: Lizzie discovers her power.
"Lizzie! Hurry up, you're going to be late." Her father's voice paused, then added meaningfully, "And you're going to make me late, too."
"Hold on Dad," Lizzie whined, shaking the blow dryer again and toggling the switch on and off. It had been acting up over the last few days, and she'd figured it was probably on its last legs - but she hadn't planned on it dying quite so soon. And here she was in her towel, hair dripping wet, not a dab of makeup on her face yet, and she had to leave in twenty-five minutes. What was she going to do? She should have tested the dryer before she got into the shower and committed to washing her hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Though she'd already tried it twice before, Lizzie reached out to pull the plug out of the socket and hit the reset button on the outlet. Maybe this time it would work... it had better. That ponytail needed to be perfect in the next ten minutes, or Coach Sylvester - Lizzie didn't want to think about what Coach Sylvester would do. Especially given her recent transgression...
Click click click click click - she pressed the on/off switch furiously. She'd expected that the blow dryer wouldn't work, but to have that expectation met only added insult to injury. The angry, loud smack of plastic on enamel ricocheted off the walls as she threw the malfunctioning device into the (thankfully empty) sink. Stupid piece of crap... how the hell am I supposed to look presentable this morning?! Lizzie reached up to claw at her still-damp hair... and as her palms passed her cheeks, she felt a curious current against them. Almost as if there was some kind of air coming straight out of her hands...
She pulled her palms away abruptly, staring at them. Nothing looked different. Slowly, she brought them back up to her face; the gentle flow of air continued. What the fuck was going on?!
Palms extended, she slowly moved around the small space. The shower curtain moved gently in the breeze, then the end of the toilet paper hanging off the roll. Experimentally, she bit her bottom lip and pressed her lips between her teeth, uncurling her fingers.
The current increased. Not by much, but enough that the shower curtain pressed in against it.
Okay, now Lizzie was officially freaked out. She sat down on the toilet and stared at her shell-shocked reflection, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. How could she go to school when she was emitting this weird air from her hands?! Wouldn't people notice?
Okay, first things first, she thought. Maybe if you just don't go near many people today, no one will notice at all. Maybe it will go away by itself. What you need to focus on now is what people will definitely notice. Like that dripping, soggy mess of...
If it was possible, Lizzie's eyebrows went up even further. This was fucked up, but maybe it could have its place.
And five minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom, ponytail bone-dry and perfectly coiffed - and face lacking the confident smile she usually wore just after she'd primped herself from head to toe. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. And she was pretty sure it wouldn't go away by itself.