Chapter Text
As Clarke steps into Ark High School for the first time after summer vacation, the crisp September wind sends a flurry of auburn leaves about her feet. The hallway sheds a faint florescent hue over the masses of students gathered. Last week, while camping with her friends as a last ‘hurrah’ of summer, Clarke had (drunkenly) yelled that senior year would be their year. But now, the scent of cleaning chemicals filling her nose, she didn't see a single familiar face. A flash of elaborate russet braids catches her eye, and Clarke grins to herself. She knows only one person who has that much patience with their hair - Octavia, one of her closest friends.
Clarke dashes forward, dodging backpacks and reunited students, until she is right behind Octavia. Without a pause, Clarke reaches forward and her hand collides with the girls ass - and holy shit, that is not Octavia.
The figure standing before her reacts to the attack in a fluid motion: seriously, was the girl a black belt, because in half a second Clarke’s back collided with the locker and she let out a surprised yelp. Pale green-grey eyes, feline-like, gaze down at her sharply. Clarke’s lips may have parted, just a bit - this girl was seriously attractive, and the fact her face was inches away didn't help either. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, but Clarke was not about to let herself get cornered, not by anyone (including hot mystery ladies). She lifted her hands in surrender, trying to put some distance between herself and the girls’ lips.
“Shit, sorry, I thought you were my friend,” Clarke let out a light laugh.
Oh, she’d done it now. The other girl cocked her head, eyes still narrowed in consideration. It was not a mean look, but it was ferocious; maybe if she were someone else, she would've quaked under the state. But she was Clarke Griffin; she didn't surrender to anybody.
“I see. Thank you for your apology,” her voice was low and solemn.
She spoke to Clarke formally, nothing like the colloquial conversations classmates usually engaged in. Clarke was about to respond, ask for her name - her mouth opened, but before she can speak, a shriek sounds close to her ear. Octavia jumps onto her friend in joy, with Bellamy following close behind. He smirks at Clarke, tossing a “hey, princess,” in her direction.
Clarke laughs, hugging O back, but quickly looks over her head for the nameless girl. To her disappointment, but not total surprise, she had disappeared into the crowd. Clarke lets her friends pull her away (off to find Monty and Jasper, no doubt) but a part of her mind lingers on the girls’ persistent eyes and detached mannerism. She was a puzzle, alright - but Clarke was determined to figure her out, and once her mind was set, nothing could get in the way.