Chapter Text
“Week two update: um, it’s week two. The end of week two. And I still don’t have any friends.”
Laura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked into the webcam. It stared back at her, a single, unfeeling black eye. She took a deep, slow breath - her video journals had always brought her solace, and now was not the moment to start getting camera shy.
“I’m embarrassed,” she said. “I want friends, you know? I wouldn’t have spent this much money on clothes if I didn’t care about making an impression. Moving isn’t easy. But nobody seems to notice me, and I think I bought the wrong kind of clothes. I thought people at a private school would look really, you know, country club, but they don’t. They look normal and I look like a sixteen year old professional golfer.” She rolled her eyes, thinking of the pink polo she had worn that day. She’d since changed into pajamas. “There’s one nice person, I guess - in my chemistry class. I don’t think they’re too happy about getting paired with me, even though they’re nice, but maybe I’m just being paranoid. Their name’s Laf. It’s short for LaFontaine. It took me two classes to figure out they weren’t telling me their name was Laugh.”
She buried her head in her hands.
“I need a hot chocolate. Like, a big one. I’ll see you later, journal.”
* * * *
The beginning of week three rolled in, cold and soft and snowy, and Laura was comfortable in her argyle sweater and ugg boots. She felt like a real news anchor when she walked into school with her new hair, highlighted and curled, and just a little mascara accenting her soft brown eyes. She had been unpopular and lonely at her old school, but she was determined to change that here. Two weeks wasn’t that long, people just weren’t used to her yet. Today would be the day. Someone would invite her to something - to a party, to a study session, to a lunch table, she didn’t care. Something.
It happened in fifth period chemistry. She pushed her goggles up on top of her head, glowering at her worksheet. The room hummed with the chatter of partners talking to one another, complaining, explaining, gossiping. She and her partner, Laf, hadn’t talked much since the experiment had finished. Laura glared harder at her paper.
She heard a dry cough, and looked over at Laf. They arched one eyebrow.
“I heard oxygen went on a date with potassium.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It went OK.”
Laura was quiet for a moment, mouth slightly open, and then she began to giggle.
Laf smiled. “That’s better. You looked like you were going to tear your worksheet in half.”
“I was thinking about it.”
“I haven’t been a great lab partner.”
“Oh, you’re fine-” Laura started to say, more than a little taken aback, but Laf talked right over her.
“You’re new and everything, and I’ve been just so moody - my, uh, best friend and I are fighting, you don’t care about that but it’s true, and I haven’t been helpful at all - it’s not your fault, and you need help with your worksheet. I’m good at this stuff.”
“I know.” Laura gestured to Laf’s finished worksheet.
They grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Let me walk you through it.”
It was the longest conversation Laura had had with anyone at the new school, and she was happier than she would have thought possible by the time the worksheet was done.
“Have you joined any clubs yet?”
“No.” She perked up a little. “Is there a school paper?”
“Nah, just yearbook, but maybe you can start one. Do you like acting?”
Laura blushed. “Um, yeah, I’ve done some acting.”
A younger, bolder Laura had loved theatre. Sixteen year old Laura was embarrassed, but determined to not let that stop her this time.
“Good,” Laf said with relish, “The drama club is in desperate need of some new blood. I just build sets, I don’t have any stage presence to speak of, but there are some really cool people there. I think you’d like it. Auditions for Midsummer are on Friday, you should come.”
“I like Shakespeare.”
“I figured.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I saw the Hufflepuff socks you wore yesterday. You’re a nerd. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Laura smiled, a real, full smile that somehow still managed to be less toothy than Laf’s. “Thanks.”
“Any time.” Laf reached over and patted her desk, an affectionate gesture that made Laura grin even wider.
She couldn’t hide the spring in her step as she walked to her locker after the bell rang, gathering her thick coat in her arms in preparation to brave the chilly walk to the coffee shop where she did her homework after school. As she walked outside, she saw the same sight she always did, and as she had every day, she slowed her walk just a touch, looking at it curiously.
It was a motorcycle, silver and black, parked in one of the school’s extremely limited parking spots. It shone in the cold winter light, and curious Laura, in her pastel blue argyle sweater and light gray winter coat, felt an indescribable urge to take off her mittens and touch the chrome with her bare fingers. She realized she had stopped walking, hovering under one of the small trees that struggled to make the parking lot seem less industrial. Something held her there, staring at the motorcycle. Who drove it? She had never seen them.
She waited, pretending to go through her backpack, as if she might have forgotten something in her locker. This is what a real journalist would do, she told herself. Investigate. She stood in the cold for fifteen minutes, and was about to give up and leave when the owner of the motorcycle approached.
Laura forgot that she was supposed to be pretending to search her bag and instead just stared at the girl who was carrying a helmet under one arm. She was dressed from head to toe in black, from her leather boots to her eyeliner, and walked confidently, chin up, with the dark brown gaze of a bored model. Laura was suddenly very aware of her white knit hat with the pompom on top.
Was the girl wearing lipstick or were her lips just flushed from the cold?
Laura gave her head a quick shake and hurried in the opposite direction, not caring that she’d have to walk the long way around the parking lot in order to get to the coffee shop. She just didn’t want to walk past that girl. She looked scary. Hot, but scary. Scary hot.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she muttered to herself under her breath. “Shut up, brain.”
There were lots of things to think about besides girls. She needed to make friends before she could even think about getting a crush on someone, regardless of what that particular someone happened to drive. There was no point.
Once she was done with her homework, she’d read Midsummer Night’s Dream again. That would remind her what her goals really needed to be. She’d wrap her hands around a paper cup of hot chocolate, and that would help her stop thinking about running her fingers over chrome.