stealing the highschool romance au cause I'm lazy

[restingstitchface]

[Crane clears his throat and peers around the edge of his book. He observes his classmates with some curiosity that doesn't quite make it onto his face. They're talking about Sherry. How tragic an accident it was. How they had warned her about this, that and the other. They hadn't. And they didn't even know he'd done it. God, he's a genius.

He leans forward, stretching his arms over his desk, mustering the most impartial expression he can dredge up. He spots Harleen at that moment and a sudden feeling of nausea rumbles his stomach and upsets his throat, which tightens.

He stares her down. God, does he hate her.]

Comments

[itistolaugh]

[ Harley's whirlwind entrance in the middle of the semester had been an instant shot up the ranks of popularity, and a swift disappointment for everyone who put her on that pedestal.

Sure, she was pretty and from A City and immediately joined the cheerleading team (no official gymnastics team? the first sign this backwoods hick town OFFICIALLY SUCKED), but she laughed too loud at the wrong things and she wouldn't even talk about A City (because when Daddy gets in the kind of hot water that find your family suddenly uprooted across the country, talking about anything is definitely against the rules).

At least the dead girl meant people would stop paying too much attention to her now. Not that Harley wasn't sad, or knew she was supposed to be sad, but ... It wasn't like she really knew Sherry. They'd been teammates. She was a good flyer, and shared her hairbands that time Harley's snapped before practice. Boo hoo, total bummer, way sad.

Jonathan staring at her is a welcome excuse to break away from the cluster of mourners, even if he definitely didn't mean it as an invitation. ]

Hey! I got a bone to pick with you.

[ She pokes his shoulder with an amateurishly manicured finger. ]

Stop taking out all the deviant psychology books at once. I've been on the reserve list for a week!

[restingstitchface]

[His body stiffens.

The sensation overwhelms him and he begins to feel sick again. His eyes seek shelter in his reading material. It does a merciful job of hiding the color that's draining from his cheeks as he feels his neck turn stuff. He otherwise appears as unmoved by her sudden presence as he had the first time she'd surged into the classroom.

Being without one's favorite books.

It's enough to make him cry. Almost.]

... Not my problem.

[He says flatly. Though it's less malice or disinterest than passive avoidance.]

[itistolaugh]

[ At her old school, she'd been on the fast track for a full athletic scholarship to any college she wanted. But now she's here and this place has nothing. If she wants out, she'll have to be the top at everything. And dear god in heaven, does she want out.

She thinks, idly, of sinking her thumbs into his eye sockets. It's soothing. ]

You don't need all of them. At least let me have The Gift of Fear. I have to write a paper.

[restingstitchface]

[The corners of his mouth curl up in a smile. He desires his freedom too. His grades are part of his plan of that. He does not make books available. He doesn't give up his time. He's going nowhere based on his looks, even if the manner of his appearance unnerves people who can't quite believe he's taken after his mother.]

That's certainly an unusual task to be given in high school.

[He says dryly.]

[itistolaugh]

[ She's leaning against his desk and looking down at him with her arms crossed. ]

It's extra credit. Come on, you don't even need it! You've had it out enough times you probably have it memorized. Please?

[restingstitchface]

[The closer she leans, the more frozen he seems. He shifts and sits straight. Doesn't retreat. Doesn't move an inch. No expression shows itself, except for a small scrunch of his nose. A microscopic reaction to a problem that isn't in the classroom.]

... Alright. Tomorrow, then.

[If Granny hasn't found it first.]

[itistolaugh]

[ She grins at him in that warm, open way that helped her so easily slip in with the Cool Kids. ]

You're a pal.

[ She nods at their classmates still agreeing with each other about how Sherry was super great and this is all, like, super tragic. ]

You knew her, didn't you?

[restingstitchface]

A little.

[He glances past her at those cool kids. He doesn't grin. Reveals no emotion. He observes them in the same fashion he'd done before; mild curiosity; caution; from a distance. They're not really like him at all.

Perhaps it speaks to his expectation of trouble that he immediately follows that with one simple question.]

Why?

[itistolaugh]

It's just, you don't seem very. Y'know. Grief-y.

Not a criticism, by the way. It's kind of a welcome ... relief? If Linda tells the story of the time The Great Sherry bought her a Diet Cherry Coke after practice like it was a personal message from God one more time, I swear I'll cut off her hair.

[restingstitchface]

[Later on, in a different city, he will encourage this odd behavior. You do that, you. This moment? He's the oddest one here. Probably.

No comment.]

Um. If you say so.

[Proto-encouragement! But then his nose in buried in his book. Flawless evasion tactic is go!]

I'd just set it on fire.

[itistolaugh]

[ She snorts a laugh in that too-loud way she has and gets some disapproving side eye. ]

Yeah? But the smell. Eugh.

[restingstitchface]

[That gets his attention. He closes his book, resting his hands atop its cover, and stares at her.]

But the act itself wouldn't prove difficult for you?

[itistolaugh]

[ She looks back at him and holds his gaze for a while, one corner of her mouth quirked up. She turns her eyes back to Linda and considers the question. ]

Well, ya know...

[ She shrugs as casually as if they were discussing the lunch menu. ]

Not really. I wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

[restingstitchface]

[His gaze is as unblinking as his great-grandmother's. He tilts his head in consideration. Then he turns away.]

You're just saying that.

[Friends will lead you astray, Jonathan! They lie, cheat and steal. Blahblahblah etc.]

[itistolaugh]

[ She snorts again and shakes her head, but she's still smiling. ]

Well, yeah. I'm not actually going to set someone's head on fire in the middle of the classroom. The actual thing to do would be...

[ She trails off, chewing on her glossy lower lip (strawberry flavored, snuck into her pocket unpaid at the pharmacy). ]

Shift the balance during a flying stunt. Broken wrist, dislocated knee. Happens all the time.

[restingstitchface]

[There's a strangeness in hearing words like his own coming from someone else's mouth. He pulls his book closer and folds his arms over it.]

It hurts more if you say something that gets into their mind, though.

[itistolaugh]

[ She scoffs and tosses her hair. ]

What mind? I mean, god, just look at her. There's nothing going on in there.

[ Since they're having an actual conversation, she sits at the desk in front of his and twists in the seat to face him. She props her elbow on his desk and cups her chin. Just two regular teens, talkin' 'bout regular teen stuff. ]

Okay, so here's her whole thing. Cheerleading is, like, her entire world. No exaggeration. The only thing she wants is to be part of a team and date a football player. But nobody actually likes her? Even Jason is only dating her because he's into the uniform, and nobody else gave him the time of day.

So one little slip? One teeny tiny injury? Bam. That's it. End of story.

[restingstitchface]

[Too close. He stares through her for a moment. Too close physically. Too close intimately. Though it doesn't matter too much. He'll be gone in a matter of months anyway. He removes his hands from his book and folds them together in his lap.

And honestly. He deserves this conversation if nothing else.]

Um, that's...

[Twisted? Unbelievable? He doesn't actually care about her, now that he thinks about it. Cheerleaders. :| ]

Completely wrong. [Wait for it.] Girls like that keep themselves attractive because they find self-worth through attaching themselves to morons... like the football team. You should scar her looks. Then she's really got nothing. [He chews his lip contemplatively.] That should work.

[itistolaugh]

[ She rolls her eyes a little. Really? Jonny Crane thinks he knows what girls are like? ]

Uh, no. That would make her a tragedy. She'd get all the pity parties she could ever want, and Jason wouldn't dare break up with her because then he'd be a total shallow asshole. Which he is, but not enough for anyone to call him out on it.

Nobody's gonna shut her out for getting scarred, but she'll be dropped like a hot potato the second she's useless.

[restingstitchface]

[He pulls the book closer and cradles it.

Please. His understanding of girls is flawless.]

So you're saying to approach it from another angle, right?

[itistolaugh]

I'm saying... Y'know. Subtly. She gets maimed or something, that's a terrible thing, poor girl, let's all be super extra nice! She has a little "accident" because she was "clumsy"? [ Yes, finger quotes included. ] What a dumbass! Can you believe we ever hung out with that loser?

[restingstitchface]

[Mmmh.]

Well, I guess that could work.

[He steals a look at the group again.]

Seems more your style anyway.

[itistolaugh]

My style. Pff. Okay.

Hey, whose desk is this? I'm gonna switch.

[restingstitchface]

[A shrug.]

Um, well-

[Faces had changed throughout the year. No matter who sat there, they were taller. But he was smarter - smarter than anyone in this dump. He narrows his brows in contemplation. He doesn't smile. It's too early for that.]

I'd like to think it's yours. You're sitting there. [He seems to shrink in his seat.] They'll just have to get on with it.

[itistolaugh]

[ She grins slow and easy and gives him a considering once over. He's awkward as hell, and more pretty than handsome, but there's potential. Anyway, it's not like she needs eye candy sitting behind her. At the very least, it will be a nice oasis away from footballers pulling her ponytail and begging for dates.

And she really, really needs him to hand over those books. ]

Cool.

[ She goes to fetch her bag from her old desk and brings it back. ]

[restingstitchface]

[He's just satisfied she's likely not going to beat him up and steal his money. Because she looks like those girls. Blonde. Happy. Fragrant. Duplicious.

He gulps and looks at his hands. Turns them over so he's facing his palms. He doesn't really trust her not to pull something. He slids them under his arms.]

Tomorrow, then.

[For those books.]

[itistolaugh]

Tomorrow. And if you forget, I will come get it.

[ She jabs a scolding finger at him, but it comes with a wink so it's hard to register exactly how much is in jest, and turns her back to him with a flip of her perfect hair. She's gotten all she needs from him, for now.

And when Linda has a misstep her first time practicing Sherry's old cheerleading moves, well, isn't that an unrelated story. ]