Blue Court Revolution
The view from the top of Red Court High School was spectacular. Tasia didn't understand why Mitchell refused to come up with her; you could see everything. Trains rocketed through the suspended tunnels, disappearing through the walls to the Courts outside the Praetera Range. The cities and towns carved into the mountains descended in a gentle slope down to the Iseasai River Valley. People zipped around on their hoverboards and antigravity boots. Three dragons lumbered over the peaks, their yellow scales in contrast to the blue, blue sky. The wind swirled the flora around in a sort of dance. Sunlight brought out extra colors in everything: the silvers in the train tunnels, the blues of the river, the reds in Mitchell's usually brown hair and golds in his olive skin.
Tasia let out a long whistle as she buckled on her helmet. "Mitchell! You sure you don't wanna come up here?" she called down to her friend. "It's downright picturesque!"
Mitchell shook his head. "I'd rather be in close proximity to you in case you wind up mortally injured – no offense!" He held up his hands defensively. "Just bein' safe here."
"Suit yourself, Esparza! But really, my behind is secure." Tasia stroked her lovingly handcrafted flying machine's wing. "So no worries, all right?" She hopped into the bucket-like seat and strapped herself in.
Mitchell did not look convinced.
Tasia waddled over to the edge of the roof and looked over the tree line. She spotted a clearing about thirty yards down. "Here goes!" She secured her glasses, pulled up the landing gear, and leaped into the air.
She realized that maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty to jump off the roof when her flying machine's supports gave out. She realized that she definitely shouldn't have been so hasty when she hit the ground. Her right arm crunched underneath her, soliciting screams from both Tasia and Mitchell. The wind dragged the machine by the wings, scraping Tasia against the ground. It felt like her nerves had grown teeth and sunk them into her bones, gnawing and biting and clenching. She struggled to free herself, but found it difficult with only one hand.
She felt Mitchell grab her injured arm with a "Gotcha!" and Tasia let out a stream of curses.
"Not that arm, not that arm!" Tasia screwed her eyes shut against tears that threatened to spill, and swore several more times.
"Ah, sorry!" Mitchell's hands jumped away, moving instead to the straps that kept Tasia captive. The restraints relented, and he helped Tasia out of the machine. "Are you OK?"
Tasia shook her head as she clung to her arm. It felt like her nerves had been set aflame. She pulled up her shirtsleeve to get a better look at the damage. "Oh damn." Patches of black and purple and red spread over her dark skin, and a significant lump had formed below her elbow. At least the bone hadn't broken through.
Mitchell's pupils dilated and he pulled out a leaf of scriven paper from his jacket. He pinched it, holding it close to his lips. "Red Court Medic Station, send help to Red Court High School, broken arm probably?" He checked to make sure the paper had recorded everything properly, folded it, and pinched it again. It evaporated into the air.
Tasia tried to apply pressure to her arm, pressing it against her stomach. She only had a vague awareness of Mitchell reading the medic's reply. I told you this was a stupid idea, she could hear her twin already telling her. What are you trying to do, get the record for most limbs broken? Stupid Shea and her stupid attitude, always acting like she had never made a mistake in her entire life.
Tasia was ripped from her thoughts when Mitchell started to rip at her shirtsleeve. "Whoa, hey, what now?" She pulled away and boggled at him.
Mitchell's ears flushed. "Sorry, the reply says to use something to support your arm until help arrives. And you've kinda started ripping it anyways." He took her sigh as permission to carry on. He gave the sleeve a few yanks before it came off. "Got it." His hands still shook as he wound the sleeve around her arm.
She winced. "Ow, does it have to be so tight?" He raised an eyebrow, and she huffed. "My whole life is terrible." She glared at her arm. Her mother could not find out how this actually happened. She had been walking on thin ice ever since the Cleanbot debacle (or, as Shea put it, the Bubblocalypse). The only problem was the highly damning evidence.
"You doing OK, Tase?"
But she could do something about that.
"Could be better..." Tasia ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "Mitchell, could you do me a favor and break into my house?"
Something wasn't right. Shea could feel it in her bones. Yes… Breann forgot the liatris bulbs. The box was probably still behind the museum building. "Hey Bree?" Shea set down the begonia bulb and looked over her shoulder. Breann hummed to herself, happily planting her own flower bulbs. "Breann."
"You notice how we don't have as much to plant today?"
Breann started to smile, but suddenly froze. She clenched the bulb as her eyes went wide. Shea covered her mouth to hide her amusement. Breann dropped everything and sprinted inside, making full use of her long runners legs.
Shea snorted. Her friend could be such a dork sometimes (admittedly, an adorable one). She kept planting flower bulbs into her side of the garden, whistling to herself. She wondered vaguely if the museum would let them into the special exhibits for a day. She and Breann had done this almost entirely by themselves – and without pay. True, neither really minded the work. It was the principle of the thing.
Shea heard a crackle and a scriven leaf fell to the ground next to her. She unfolded it and read:
Shea, I broke my arm. I'm at the medic's. Please pick me up? Love you, sis.
Shea closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "For the love of everything, Tasia. Hrrrgh." She opened up a reply: "Oh let me guess. You jumped off the roof anyways even though I told you it was a stupid idea."
Breann ran back with her arms full of flower bulbs. "What coulda possibly happened in the…" She paused to breathe. "…the two minutes I was gone that got you all worked up?" She set the box down next to Shea and sat beside it.
Shea rolled her eyes. "Tasia broke her arm trying to fly. I told her. I said, 'This is a stupid idea and you're going to break something.' But nooo, she has to attempt it 'for science!'"
Breann laughed. "You probably should have been like, all supportive and everything. Then she wouldn't have done it."
"Seriously." Another message fell next to Shea. "Speak of the devil."
Shut up and pick me up oh my God.
Shea told Tasia that she could kindly hold her horses and just wait a couple hours. "Idiot." Cue a long-suffering sigh, and the saddest brown eyes. "Can you give me a ride to the hospital after we're done here?"
"Aw, sure." Breann wrapped an arm around Shea's shoulders and squeezed.
"You sure? I can take the helibus since you got that thing..."
Breann stuck her tongue dangerously close to Shea's face. "Would you just chill? I can skip my thing. Best friends being in the hospital, and other best friends needing transport is a totally valid excuse."
"Well sor-ry for being concerned about your affairs." Shea laughed nervously. "That sounded weird. Like I was just sticking myself all up in your business." She clapped her hands over her mouth, closing her eyes. "I'm being quiet now."
Breann tweaked Shea's nose and winked.
OK, this had long passed the point of ridiculousness. Volunteer gardening or no, nothing on earth could excuse a person from leaving their sister stranded (with a broken arm, no less) at the hospital for three hours.
"I'm going to die here," Tasia whispered to her fifth cup of red gelatin. The gelatin jiggled, but otherwise did not seem to particularly care. Tasia sighed. What was she supposed to do; actually message her mom?
Sure, Ms. Henley would definitely find out. But that gave Tasia time to prepare arguments and counterarguments. With science. She punctuated this thought by stabbing a spork into the gelatin.
She considered messaging Mitchell so he would help her make charts. Except she already sent him on a million errands for her already (bring the flying machine back to her house, cover up any traces of serious accidents, clean her lab... he was going to be busy). Clearly she only had one option here.
Sob sob sob sob aaaAAAAAAGH Shea where are you? I am going crazy!
Tasia didn't expect a reply, and a reply she did not receive. After seventeen years, she knew what Shea's reaction was, anyways. "Tasia, there's this thing called patience, it's really great and you should learn it!" or "What is wrong with you?" or "I am wishing really hard to be an only child."
To which Tasia would reply, "Learning patience takes too long!" or "A broken arm. You're so insensitive." or "I am uninviting you to my birthday party."
Shea and Breann found Tasia several minutes later, brooding over a mostly empty cup of red gelatin. A smile stretched across Shea's face and she waved curtly. "Hey sis."
Tasia clenched the spork and cup. "Shut it."
"We've come to rescue you. Well, until your imminent punishment." She winked at Breann. "Our mother's fury is righteous and swift. And also more likely to strike Tasia. Because Tasia does stupid, stupid things."
"Oh ha-ha, check out the funny bone on you."
Breann took the seat next to Tasia and patted her shoulder. "In fairness, you have done some brilliantly moronic things." She laughed at Tasia's sour expression. "Seriously, it's like you get this great idea, and then all your common sense and logic goes straight out the window. Like, consider that jazz defenestrated."
Shea hid her smile under her hand. "Oh my word, Breann, you're amazing."
"OK but really, where were you guys?"
Breann stood up with Tasia as she answered, "Special museum exhibit! Ehame Revolution and this simulation chamber thing. Sooo exciting like whoa. We'll tell you about it on the way back."
Shea did not smile as they followed Breann out of the cafeteria, but she certainly did seem to have trouble holding a straight face. Tasia punched her shoulder and told her to keep her "smug mouth shut".
OK I've been sitting on this chapter for ages and this is the third edit? Yeah.
Also actually relevant I've never broken a bone nor witnessed anybody break one, so please tell me how inaccurate I'm being and what it's actually like. And yeah, there's actually rhyme and reason to the whole funky messaging system, and no, nobody has any special powers, but it won't be explained until way later.
Anyways, internet-cheesy-fries? (Hey new readers, I've been doing this e-snack thing for years and don't know why...)