All Stories – Page 2 – Kenzie Leong's Creations

Aggressive Mimicry (2/3)

A knock at his bedroom door dragged Nolan away from his class notes on estuarine wetlands, with great reluctance. He looked over his shoulder with a bleary-eyed glower to find Trent cracking the door open, poking in his head and one bare shoulder.

Nolan was beginning to wonder if his roommate actually owned any shirts.

“Hey, there’s a thing at the door, can you deal with it?” Trent asked. “I’m with Mel right now.”

“I’m busy,” Nolan replied. Trent was already gone, but the damage was done. Now that he wasn’t up to his eyeballs in marine ecology notes, he could register the muffled thuds. Someone was at the apartment door, knocking with increasing urgency. Grimacing, Nolan heaved himself away from his desk and went to answer it.

Aggressive Mimicry (1/3)

“You know, if you need a girlfriend that bad, you could’ve just asked.”

Nolan was only half-listening; it wasn’t until his hand was on the door that he fully registered what Trent had actually said.

He looked back. “What?”

“I’m just saying.” Trent was lounging on the couch in nothing but boxers. The bathroom door was closed, with the running shower slightly muffling the high-pitched, melodious humming within. “If you’re that desperate, I know some single girls who’re into shut-in nerds.”

“I’m… good?” Nolan said.

Trent shrugged. “You do you. But some of the guys say they’re always fatter than you think they’ll be.” He paused. “Unless you’re into that.”

“I’m going hiking,” Nolan said slowly. “Where do you think I’m going?”

Hero Worship (4/4)

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, you know?” said Chris. “It’s almost over. In just a few weeks we won’t be kids anymore. We’ll be on to the next stage of our lives.”

“Chris, if you don’t shut up and study, you’ll get to enjoy this stage for a little longer,” Robby said flatly, then ducked the pencil Chris threw at him. He threw it back, only for Chris to catch it.

Isabelle laughed, shifting to lay her head on a softer part of Chris’s thigh. The southeast hallway past the computer labs was carpeted, but the carpet was thin, and Chris was happy to be a cushion for his girlfriend. “You’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ve seen your grades. You’re good enough that you could probably just not show up for finals and still graduate.”

“I’m not gonna push my luck.” Chris twirled his pencil in one of Isabelle’s fiery curls. “What about you?”

Hero Worship (3/4)

He probably could have given Hazard and Howler his real phone number—they were heroes, and he trusted them not to take advantage—but he went out and bought a burner because it seemed like the thing to do when you were a secret superhero.

He spent the rest of the day checking it, giddy and hopeful.

He had Hazard’s number.

The thought was ridiculous, but Chris reveled in it anyway. Hey, anything was possible. This wasn’t high school and he didn’t have to worry about anyone’s judgment. A guy could dream.

Hero Worship (2/4)

“Little tame for you, isn’t it?” said Chris. “No offense.”

Talking in this form had taken some getting used to. Considering that his face was in a completely different shape from how it usually was, he was lucky he could talk at all. The tongue got in the way sometimes, or cut itself on his teeth on certain consonants. But it was worth it for the gravely bass that puberty alone had never given him.

The three of them had retreated to the rooftop of an apartment building. Night was falling, and no one had noticed them scaling the fire escapes for some privacy. Howler was on alert, standing watch for anyone and anything that might disturb them. Hazard, on the other hand, sat near Chris on the low outer wall, airgun propped against his shoulder.

“You call armed robbery ‘tame’?” Hazard sounded amused. Friendly. Chris could feel his tail trying to wag again.

Hero Worship (1/4)

Two months after the accident, Chris quit his job and moved six hours away to San Francisco.

It had taken two weeks to recover physically, four days for the changes to manifest, another week of experimenting to fully map out the extent of them, and the remaining month-and-change to practice making them happen when he wanted and not happen when he didn’t.

It had taken a morning to pack everything he cared about from his shitty little studio apartment into his car, an afternoon to cart the rest to the nearest Goodwill, and the rest of the day to kiss LA traffic goodbye. He’d held up his middle finger out the window for good measure, as the I-5 took him up through Santa Clarita and beyond.

It’s All About Presentation

The employees of J.D. Barrett and Co. Fine Jewelry realized quickly that they were in for an interesting afternoon—first when Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began blasting over the store’s speakers at a higher volume than they’d ever achieved before, second when every light went out and came back on in a riot of different colors, and finally when Latchkey burst in from the secure backroom with a flourish and began absolutely throwing ass.

Between the bass-boosted music, the flashing lights, the vigorously gyrating supervillain, and the incapacitated security guards, there wasn’t much anyone could do but take cover, maybe pull out their phones, and watch as the store was thoroughly and enthusiastically robbed.

Forbidden Knowledge

When it was over, she cracked open what passed for her mouth and did her best to scream. All that came out was a rattling whisper, like stale air escaping from a tomb.

The music was gone, but still his beloved voice echoed in her mind, crying out in desperation as she was ripped from his arms. She tried to open her eyes, but she had no eyes to open. She groped for any sort of clue, but her reaching hands clattered uselessly against the hard surface beneath her, feeling nothing. A rattling inhale brought no smells to her. Her teeth clacked dryly together, with neither tongue nor palate between her jaws.

She could hear.

For the first time in thousands of years, someone stood beside her and breathed.

High School Time Travelers, Part 2

“So. Spill. What the fuck is going on with you and Angelique?”

Raph fidgeted uncomfortably, and something within Erin roared out in protest at that. They were in her room, surrounded by her clutter and band posters and the stuff he kept at her house to keep his mom from throwing it away. He wasn’t supposed to be uncomfortable here.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I time-traveled last night.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said wearily. “I woke up in a house I haven’t set foot in for years, across the hall from someone I promised myself I’d never talk to again. It happened, and if you’re stuck on that part then this conversation can’t continue.”

High School Time Travelers, Part 1

(CW: bullying, including homophobic and ableist language, mentioned drug use, gender dysphoria, depression)

When Angelique Lancaster dumped a backpack and a brown-bag lunch on their table before sitting down with a huff, all Erin could do was stare.

First off, she’d never seen Angelique wear a backpack before. Erin didn’t even know she owned one. It wasn’t like she needed one—there wasn’t a single freshman boy at Chapman High who wouldn’t have carried her textbooks for her, and paid for the privilege.

Second off, Angelique wasn’t wearing makeup, aside from eyeliner that looked at least two days old. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, for fuck’s sake—again, since when did Angelique Lancaster own T-shirts?

Since when did Angelique Lancaster even look at this table, much less schlep over and sit at it?