Amy

'Hands up!' shouted the cops, as they busted our door open!

I woke up from my chair searching for the quickest leeway of escape, while my friend, calling me in my sleep, had enough time to escape through the basement door. 

Damn EarPods. 

Before she left, I noticed she destroyed all her investigations.

Shit. They caught us off guard.

'Stand up!' the man shouted. I stood, facing the window, 'now turn around... slowly'. My hands were in the air, as I turned around, slowly. I should've given the diamond to Cleo before she left. 'Game over, munchkin'. You again.

'Detective', I greeted him with a smile. A younger, slender black woman with a bob haircut stood beside him. She was new. 'What happened to your guys, donut and hotdog?'

'I won't crack jokes with you today. Where's your friend?'

'What friend?'

'You know!'

'I don't'. He nodded at his partner, who pushed me around and cuffed me. I was only in my night tee and socks. This was harassment. They forced me into the cold, dark streets, on the ice-cold floors, and shoved me into their car. All I could think about, as the cops drove me to the station was the perfect plan that failed...

A day ago

'I'm not kidding, Amy. Delete the video!' Britney, the tall blonde girl I caught making out with a guy who wasn't her boyfriend, lived in a home the size of a five-star hotel, and Brody, the boyfriend's parents practically owned the school. Britney chased me from the chemistry room, reaching out her giraffe arms to grab my phone. 'Delete it'.

'Not until you put me on the scholarship list'. She had enough influence to do it. Like any other freshman citizen of Bluebridge, I had a side hustle. The only difference between my job and others, was that I made money to survive. I didn't have rich parents, and I wasn't given a nice car or pretty gifts unlike some rich bitches who owned everything. My enrolment into this private school wasn't my choice.

'You're not even gonna make it to college, so give it up'. It's true, my grades were atrocious, but that didn't mean I had no chance. 'What will you even study? How to be a better briber?'

'Nah. I'm already good at that', when my thumb hovered over the 'post' button, her legs tremored with fear. So, she sumo-jumped me. My phone skidded across the hall, vanishing into the distance. In no time, a ring of girls and boys came cheerleading us on. Britney leaped for the phone, but I hugged her ankle to trip her up. She pulled my hair, and I slapped my palm over her face. While I scanned my eyes over the floor for my phone, all other phone cameras were on us.

'This is your fifth fight, girls'. The principal's office. Oh joy.

'I don't know why I'm here. Amy started it', as usual, Britney stood pointing her finger at me, and I sat folding my arms and waiting for the minutes to go by. The good thing about this principal, was that she was no respecter of influence; she didn't like Britney's parents, or her circle. The bad thing was that Britney never had to face the consequences. Her punctuation and references were blemish-free, thanks to the bribery of her rich parents.

'It was a petty issue. Can we go?' I requested.

'I would like to believe that as much as you, but five fights in less than two weeks? I may have to put you both on a restraining order'.

'Amy! Honestly?!' At home, Cleo dragged it out of me to tell her about the situation. She caught me on someone's story. Being a senior in the same school, where news spread wildly, I had no choice. Cleo and I were fostered under a mafia that took us in when we were only toddlers. She was like my elder sister. Her parents were both Brazilian, but her mother was arrested when she was five. We were trained to heist. 'You need to stop baiting yourself out', she mumbled, with her faded Portuguese accent, 'you have a job tomorrow'.

'Alright, comprende'. I sat on the bed bleaching my hair, 'why pink?'

'Because I think it suits you', she replied. Cleo's hair was blackish brown, coily and tied up all the time. Her skin was dark caramel. She wore golden glasses from a high-end brand, and a gold digital watch. 'And you've been caught on camera too many times. You also got a strand of hair caught in the last job. What would you do if I never covered your tracks, huh?' By now, Cleo already knew how to hack, coding, tap phone calls and system encryption.

'Where's the job tomorrow anyway?'

'The National Heritage Museum'.

'Would you dye your hair pink?'

'Chica. Never'.

Present

It was a smooth and silent ride straight to the station, while my bare legs and arms shivered. These cuffs behind my back were uncomfortable. The lady was behind the wheel, and my old friend the detective knew nothing more than to patronise me. He prayed for this day to come.

'So this is what you do now? Arrest teenage girls in their underwear?' I tried to provoke him. Wasn't working. 'Could you at least turn the heating on... so I don't die of hypothermia?' He clicked a button at the front, and luke-warm breeze started blowing from two odd corners of the car. 'Thank you'. My nose started itching, then my arms, then my ass. 'Hey-err, I gotta pee'.

'Hold it', the detective replied, 'we'll be there soon'.

'I'm not stupid. Your Sat-Nav says it's gonna take over an hour to get to the destination'. No response. 'I'm gonna wet myself, I swear'. Still no answer. Twenty minutes later, I inhaled a gale of air, closed my eyes, and started bouncing on the seat. With a dirty smirk on his face, the detective picked up a bottle of water, seductively unscrewed the lid, and started gulping it down as if he was thirsty. Then he picked up a phone call. Fucking cops. About thirty seconds later a bullet smashed through his window. Then a second one.

'What's happening?!' the lady cried, swerving the car. A large lorry labelled 'toxic waste' drove meters in front of us. Slowly, it swerved and tilted. We drove right into it. 'Whoa-whoaaa –' as soon as it collapsed side-ways, it exploded, engulfing our car with the explosion. I shut my eyes tight... then opened them to find both my arms stretched out beside me, and the cuffs burnt off. 

Slow-moving flames enveloped around the car windows like a fire aquarium, and rapid waves of energy emitted from my hands repelling against the force of the fire. My arms stayed instinctively still. The glass... it wasn't melting, and nothing inside was burned up; everything stayed intact. My seat felt lighter as if gravity fled, but I couldn't see through the fire.

'What the...?' the detective and his partner gazed so shocked at me that their eyes almost left their sockets. Just as shocked as them, I gasped, dropped my arms, then felt a heavy connection back to the ground. All windows cracked up. After I found myself lying prostrate on the back seats, the detectives escaped the car. Blood. Blood dripping from my nose stained the car seats. With the remaining strength I had, I reached for the left door.

'Amy!' a girl in a black mask beat me to it, flinging it wide open.

'Cleo?' Yet again, she came to my rescue, 'did... you plan this?'

'No!' she wailed, 'the plan went all wrong!' So, she planned something. 'At least you're alive'. She helped me out of the car, but I had to limp because of the shard cuts all over my bare thighs and arms. In the midst of chaos, we escaped. 'The Jewel. Do you have it?'

'I'm wearing it', I assured her, picking at my open wounds, 'ah, ow'. Cleo threw over her scarf from the back seat and told me to wrap it around my legs. I still had to pee. 'It happened again', I whispered. Cleo knew I was talking about my newly discovered, subconscious powers, '...it felt like I created a small-magnitude reflex forcefield, which protected us from the explosion'.

'Wow. Looks like your powers saved our cop friends too'.