Chapter Text
Ever since Mindy McPherson came out of her mum's vag crying like she had been forced to listen to the worst band of all time, she was a future-policewoman. Every time her uncle brings up that "adorable" cop onesie she would cry if she didn't get to wear, or that pig-police teddy (ha!), or how she tried to arrest Hobie for ruining her marble-painting, she forces a plastic smile.
Her best friend since year 1, Hobie Brown is the total opposite. He has freedom, he's anti-establishment and he has no one to tell him what to do or who to be. Mindy is naturally jealous, even with his situation. Hobie's dad left him at a young age, and his mum died of cancer around five years back. Luckily for him, some random guy from a bar that he played guitar at took pity on him and let him live in his apartment complex. It wasn't the fanciest of places, there is definitely a mould problem and the building codes are a massive joke to whoever build it a million years ago, but all he has to do was work at the corner shop downstairs a couple of times a week, for his own place. His school grades are dropping, and his eyebags are getting darker. Mindy pretends not to notice. Not because she doesn't care about him, she does, a lot, but because she knows that even if she asked, he would just brush it off. Hobie's laid back attitude really gets Mindy angry sometimes. "Why can't you just care?" She always says. And his response, "There are bigger things to care about."
What's bigger than sixth form? And why did he have to be so vague all the time? Mindy's thinking of all the possible answers to these big questions when, speak of the devil-- "Aye, watch it girl." For a moment, Mindy thinks it's a chav with a freakishly deep voice, but when she looks up she gleams at Hobie's familiar piercings and spiky-ish hair. He chuckles at her concerned face, flashing his dimples. "You're at school," She states happily as they walk down the hallway. It reeks of hand sanitiser and straightened hair, the walls are uncomfortable blank and grey compared to the now grafitti-painted streets. Trophies sit in glass cabinets, collecting dust. But, yay..! The hallways not that crowded, there's enough space to do a little spin if you really wanted to, but Hobie still stays close to her, their arms touching a tiny bit every step. It's Winter, so Mindy doesn't mind, his body heat making her feel cosy. Her navy school jumper barely gives her enough warmth, her rolled-up skirt doesn't help much either.
"Every ten days, or the pigs come check on me." Mindy frowns. "Right." Her green eyes are focused on the floor, but she can still see the shadow of alterations Hobie made to his uniform. His jumper and shirt is cut into a vest and his wrist has a singular spiky band on it. His doc-martens' laces have been replaced: yellow on one shoe and blue on the other. His pants are the only things that aren't violating dress-code, but most of the teachers turn a blind eye.
The two turn a corner, entering their English class. Smiles are sent Mindy's way, whilst judging looks are sent to Hobie. A regular routine. "Mindy, you coming to the netball game Friday?" One of her friends, Charlotte, yells out. "Yeah, GD," Mindy replies with a thumbs up. "We're versing one of them all girls schools," she adds and laughs. She places her bag to the side of her regular seat and sits down on the boring grey chairs, eyes looking at the whiteboard. Hobie sprawls out next to her. And so they both just sit there, awkwardly, waiting for the second bell to ring.
Hobie finds his eyes drifting over to his best-friend. Her light-brown hair is going almost blonde in the sun that blinding her, she's trying to cover it with her hand, uncomfortably scrunching her face to protect her eyes. He finds himself laughing and Mindy hits him on the arm playfully. "What about me going blind do you find funny, mate," she says between laughs, still trying to covering the sun. Hobie puts his hand up, and covers the sun perfectly. "Great, now just hold your hand there for the entire double-period, alright?"
"Right."
The teacher drawls on about colleges and how strict they are with grammar and how the class really needed to step up their revision game if they wanted to actually be a contributing civilian. No one's listening, girls near the open window are sucking on their vapes like it's a dummy, hiding it in their sleeves. It makes the room smell of water-melon instead of the former almost puke-like smell. Hobie doodles little stick men fighting each other with his right hand on one side of the hand-out sheet. Meanwhile Mindy copies the answers with her left hand from her paper on the other side of his paper. Their hands do an awkward kind of dance, careful to not mess the other person up. When Mindy's done putting in the answers, he smiles gratefully. "Cheers, Mint." The clock on the wall ticks, and it feels like it's going in slow-motion. Tick.... tick.... tick...
"Spider-punk doesn't have a PHD in English," one boy yells out, and his mates laugh obnoxiously, the teacher is quick to tell him off, giving everyone a window to talk freely without being given a pointless detention. Hobie makes a face. "Spider-punk?" he utters under his breath. Mindy looks at him, and says, "Thought you'd love that, Hobie, with your whole thing goin' on." He shakes his head slowly. "I don't like labels." She bites her lips, hard, to the point where they almost bleed and digs her nail into her hand.
Tick... tick... tick... Mindy looks over and realises that he's still holding his hand up to block the sun-- Brrring! Everyone erupts when the bell finally goes, packing up their books and pencils and rushing out for break. Hobie's about to walk out when Mindy pulls him gently back with her hand. "What?" Mindy looks back to the window, where the sun is streaming through, she opens her mouth and then closes it, looking down at Hobie's hand. "Never mind, um, I'm gonna stay behind and get some extra service-work in," she eventually says, Hobie says his goodbyes and then leaves. Mindy turns to Mrs Osborn.
"The service work is... sorting out this unorganised cupboard," Mrs Osborn says whilst getting up from her chair, beginning to waddle over to a wooden cupboard. When she opens it, Mindy goes into a coughing fit, the dust flying into her nose. "Miss--" But Mrs Osborn has already fled the scene by the time Mindy manages to pry her eyes open, she fans away the dusty air and backs up, analysing the cupboard. "Where am I supposed to start on this thing?" She kneels down and pulls out a few folders sitting messily on the top, placing them to the side until she finds room for them to fit. Mindy pulls out another folder, she feels something crawling on her skin, but ignores it.
Continuing to pull out misplaced folders, she finally looks down when her hand begins to sting with pain, she sees a spider and flicks it off swiftly. "Ow," she mutters, waving her hand back and forth to get distract herself from the pulsating pain. It bit me, she thinks, staring down emptily at the two red spots on her hand. Mindy glances down at the now dead spider. It's bright pink, which probably isn't normal for a spider. But considering it just came out of a pre-historic cupboard, Mindy brushes it off.
"Whatever."