Taylor has changed

You get on the bus the next day and make your way to the back, wadding through rows of sweaty, rowdy teenagers. You see a new sight there. Taylor, in her civvies, is sitting in the back. Alone. She's never alone. If she's not with the crew other hanger-ongers surround her. Come to think of it, you've never seen her with less than three people flanking her. But there she is, no one next to her, like she's radioactive.

She's bundled in a grey sweater and navy blue baggy jeans. Her brown open-toe sandals show chipped pink nail polish. You take a risk. worst case scenario your new power will protect you.

"Can I sit here?" You ask. She gives you a disgusted look.

"I guess." She scoffs. She moved her bag off the seat and you can sit down where it was. Her body language is all off. Her back is bunched over and she has her arms under her stomach to make a walk between her and the world.

"Why aren't you up there, with your friends?" You point at the front where kids are laughing and messing about.

"What is this? Fucking twenty questions?" She spits out. "Shut the fuck up or get the fuck away from me."

"I'm sorry, geez." You say. You don't like your attitude. Maybe you should change it. While she looks out the window you concentrate on her. You try to zero in on that pull your powers give you but that pressure just isn't there. You focus harder, visualizing smoothing out that jagged persona.

"Stop staring at me," She says a bit too loud for comfort, breaking your concentration. You're back on the bus and nothing has changed. She still hates you. "You're a fucking creep. Get up or I'll scream. Now."

You know not to risk it. You scramble to grab your bag and start moving back up the aisle. For whatever reason, your bars just don't work. Was it a one-time thing? Are you stuck being normal again? You have to check. You dart your eyes around at the front where the queens of the pack sit. All of Taylor's old friends are laughing and teasing the jocks around them. You sit right behind them and start to silently panic. You throw out the first change that pops into your head at the first girl you lock eyes with.