Chapter Text
Deanna strode down the hall with the easy, practiced gait she had long mastered. Her ponytail swung behind her as she made her way over to Jo Harvelle and Bela Talbot, two of the few girls at Lawrence High School that she trusted. Deanna didn’t really like Bela, but she had to admit that there were times when Bela’s rude comments could be funny. Even rarer were the moments when her snarky exterior dropped to reveal the true fucked up-ness of Bela’s life.
Deanna knew what it was like to have a dysfunctional family; other than her younger brother, Sam, she didn’t have much of a family. Their mom had died when Sam was young, and though he didn’t remember it, Deanna and their father, John, were still haunted by recurring nightmares of that night. The nightmares plagued John into drinking to the point of passing out almost daily. She was only 18, but Deanna held the weight of her entire family on her shoulders. It was what made her strong.
It was also what made her lonely.
“Dee!” Jo called out, pulling Deanna out of her reverie. Before she could reply, Jo was talking again. “There’s a new girl in our grade and Bela says that her “sources,” said she was pretty hot.”
It wasn’t that big a surprise to anyone when Deanna came out as bisexual freshman year. Though she had a clear preference for girls, the guys in their school thought it was hot- of course they did. Deanna didn’t mind, as long as she was getting some.
Deanna asked, “Do you know what classes she has?” Despite the fact that the rest of their grade, if not the whole school, would be all over this new girl, Deanna wasn't going to pretend she wasn't just as curious as the rest of them. Jo shook her head, “No, but I think she’s got an older sister who used to go here, Anna Milton.” The name rang a faint bell, maybe she had read it somewhere on one of the many plaques and awards around the school, but Deanna couldn’t put a face to the name.
The bell rang, signaling the end of small talk, and the start of hell on earth.
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Meanwhile, a white Lexus convertible pulled into the school parking lot. A redhead with bright green eyes peered up at the sign of the school she had left 3 years ago. Next to her, another girl scrutinized the sign with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
"It's not that bad, Cassie, I promise," Anna said gently. Castielle shook her head; anything other than the catholic school she had transferred out of would be considered "that bad." She was so far from prepared for the experience of public school. Castielle had no idea what made her parents think that forcing her to transfer for senior year would be in any way beneficial. Her grades at Garrison High had been good enough to get her a scholarship at a respectable university. What was the point of flipping her whole life upside-down?
Anna walked her to Principle Singer's office, and Castielle had to physically restrain herself from clinging on to her older sister's hand, refusing to let her leave.
Principle Singer was clearly a "take no shit" kind of guy with a soft streak even Castielle could see. He gave her a brief rundown of the school before shoving a piece of paper into her hands, "your schedule," shooing her towards the guidance office.
Pamela Barnes was an interesting character, to say the least. Castielle sat opposite her on a comfortable couch that Castielle wished would swallow her whole, squirming under the knowing gaze of the guidance counselor.
"So, Castielle," Pamela started suddenly, making her jump. "Do you know why you're here?"
“Isn’t that what the police ask people who have just been arrested?” Castielle asked. Pamela didn't reply. “I know I’m here in your office because Principle Singer sent me",; Castielle continued. "I know I’m in this building because my sister, Anna, drove me here; but I am completely clueless as to why I’m in a guidance office in Lawrence High School in Kansas instead of hanging out with Hannah and Inias back in Pontiac.” Her tone became more shrill as she finally trailed off, having to sit back and take a breath after her rant.
Pamela just looked at Castielle thoughtfully.
Castielle hadn’t really thought about it before opening her mouth, but once the words were out, the weight of being in a strange new place hit her like a ton of bricks. She blinked, surprised to find her face wet with tears. Pamela smiled sympathetically and handed her a box of tissues.
"As you know, I'm your guidance counselor, and we’ll be meeting once a week or so to keep up with your progress at Lawrence High. Of course, you can always stop by if you ever just want to talk," Ms. Barnes told her. "Despite your misgivings, I think you’ll grow comfortable in due time."
Unless Pamela could teleport her back to Garrison High, Castielle doubted it.