Chapter Text
Herrington High was... something, if that's all you could think of. Located in a town priding itself purely on it's fabled football team, their wasn't much other to the place then rich people and jock-straps.
The school itself was mundane in its looks, the only interesting part of it being the student-body. However, it wasn't interesting to you anymore - scratch that, it never had been, since you had grown up with these weirdos all your life.
Herrington Town consisted of the same families and names, and it was a rare occasion for new-comers or people to leave. The class of '98, your current body, were filled with faces of your childhood. And fucking hell, did some of them turn out odd.
There were a few honourable mentions that you could pick out from the masses as you entered the school grounds. Delilah, your best friend since birth, however there was always a thinly veiled animosity in your interactions with her ever since 8th grade when you grew a rack and she didn't.
There was Stokely Mitchell - you called her Stokes one time two years ago and then it got stuck. She hated you even more so for that. You never really understood her. The girl had never even given you a chance for you to be nice to her.
"Take that pathetic little ray-of-sunshine bullshit out of my face," she had spat at you last year. You had devised then that Stokes seemed to hate your popularity, or whatever it was that you stood for with it. Delilah just thought - still does - that she had a crush on you, given the horrendous bullying that started three years ago when she cut her short and presumed dark clothing. Apparently homosexuality was the only plausible cause for her new look.
She could have your popularity though, if you were being completely honest. Sure, it got you privileges like party invites, which you truthfully enjoyed most of the time. But the synthetic friendships and one-ticket relationships that boys tried out with you just made you hate high-school even more.
However, for a school like Herrington which prides itself on social cliques, you seemed to be the middle-woman of the institution. You talked to everyone and anyone, and people like Delilah always tried to pin you back down to the group you 'belonged to'.
"You're meant to be untouchable," Delilah hissed, dragging you away from a timid girl in the year below that really just needed a friend after you witnessed a group of girls attacking her for no reason. "Stop fraternising with freaks, babe. You're better than that."
How sweet of her to look out for you. But there was just some people that you couldn't ignore. For example...
Firstly, it was Casey Connor.
Sweetest kid you've probably ever met, and he hangs onto every word you so much as whisper. He was always quiet and reserved, and never really got along with people. It wasn't like he didn't try too, he just had the loser label stick around from first grade, and stayed that way still in high school.
You watched from your car as he accidentally walked straight into the elbow of one of the football team's jocks who was showing off a ball pass. He was slammed back by the action, and immediately, blood began dribbling from his nose to which he cradled it. "Ugh!" he groaned, before pitifully shrugging his hand, "Sorry. My fault."
You cringed at both his pathetic withdrawal and the obvious sting of his nose. You couldn't help it - you stepped out of the car, shutting the door with your ass as you bent over to grab your backpack. You were in a mini skirt, so it wasn't really the best idea, but oh well.
The moment you were out of the car, people began greeting you, and you returned the gesture with matching energies to each. A sullen 'hey', and they received a purse-lipped smile with a furrowed brow and finger-wave. A bright and cheery 'hey girl!' got them one just in turn with an airy laugh. A - what they think - seductive 'sup girl' got the small group of jocks nearby a smirk and wave, returning it with a 'hi boys'.
You just knew how to play the field, that's all.
Secondly, came Stan Rosado with this group of jocks. Popular yet considerably quiet for a jock like him, Stan was always going to be separated from his clique from the day you met him. As much as it pained him to admit it, Stan was different than the usual quarterback should be like. He was surprisingly sweet and gentle, and never went to bully first, sometimes even sticking up for them with a half-assed wave off to his friends.
He had watched you from your car as you applied lipgloss whilst talking animatedly with a girl from the debate team who stood by the vehicle. You hadn't gotten out of the car though, another prissy trait you had.
That's why some called you princess.
"Hi," Stan greeted with a husky breath to his voice. You smiled at him a little softer, the smirk fading into something genuine. Because he always looked at you like this.
His gaze was gentle, and there wasn't an ounce of you-know-what in his eyes like his friends around him, and if their was, it was well concealed.
"Hey, quarterback," you murmured in turn, glancing at him over your shoulder as you came to pass. One of his hands was shoved into the pocket of his letterman jacket, whilst the other loosely tied around the strap of his backpack. "Good luck this Friday, huh?"
"You'll be there?" he asked dumbfoundedly.
Another thing about the princess of Herrington High? You never went to the football games that were hosted every second week of the month. It wasn't your cup of tea, so why go?
"Well, if I can get convinced," you emphasised on the last word, raking your eyes over him as you twirled around on your feet to walk backwards for a moment, "Then maybe you'll see me there."
Stan couldn't respond, watching as you turned away with another smile and continued your walk towards the school grounds. "That shit weakness the legs, meat," Terry joked as he wrestled him out his daze.
He grunted from the sudden impact, shoving the guy's away from him as he manoeuvred around them to watch you go. "Hey, wait!"
You couldn't help the smirk, subtly shaking your head as you slowed down slightly until fully halting when Stan reached you. You turned just as he went to grab your hand to turn you around. You both glanced down at it, how his was bigger and rougher, whilst yours was soft to touch.
"Yeah?" you urged softly.
"I..." Stan stared at you, and you cocked an eyebrow, your lips twitching. He smiled back, teeth crooked and on display before starting up again, "I wanted to... talk to you."
"I see," you nodded. "What about?"
"You and I are friends, right?"
Your eyes remained steady and bright as you studied him. Hmm. Would you consider being friends with Stan Rosado? There wasn't really anything that would warrant a yes or no.
You didn't really speak allot, even as kids. He was busy being a star athlete, and you were busy doing anything else but that. In middle school, it was passing glances and the occasional smile whenever you were seated at the same table for a class project. And in high school, you would see him at parties, surrounded by his little entourage of football friends that he just didn't really seem to click with. They all gassed up and tried talking to girls, but he enjoyed nursing a beer and people-watching.
You would always see him in the crowd, and then you started talking to him. After every Friday game, an afterparty would ensue at somebody's house. You would just catch each other's eyes for an hour before either one of you approached the other.
Stan was, in retrospect, a nice guy. He seemed invested in whatever you would talk about, at school and outside of it. He would offer to drive you home if he hadn't been drinking, always watching you belt out lyrics to a song on the radio or the way the open roof of his Jeep would make your hair fly in the wind.
But were you friends?
"No," you answered honestly, and Stan glanced down at his feet. He looked up at you again just as you took a step closer. "But I'd say we know each other enough to talk." Stan's smile was small and soft, and just as he went to speak, a cringe danced along your face as you glanced over your shoulder. "But not right now."
"Not right now?" he repeated back.
You could only offer him a scrunch of your nose alongside a shrug, paired with an actual remorseful wince. "I'll find you later, okay? Or you can find me."
He sighed gently when you turned away from him again. Stan thumbed at the bag strap over his shoulder before turning around and venturing towards the school entrance.
You moved towards Casey, who was just being hauled by a group of four boys. They spread his legs out, and like the usual once-a-week ritual, they made their way towards the flagpole.
You quickened your step just as they too began speeding up the crushing of balls that was just about to happen, to which you spoke, "Hey!"
One of the jocks immediately turned around, throwing the other three into a mess as they lost control of Casey's body. The smaller boy crashed to the floor, nearly subject to being stomped on as the group reset their footing.
Gabe said your name in surprise, before smiling slightly and moving towards you. "What's up, girl?"
"Cute," you deadpanned, side-eying him as he made himself comfortable next to you. He's been trying this play since sophomore year when he joined the football team and grew an ego.
"You give me nothing," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes before stepping away from you. You ignored him and the others as they said their goodbyes, as if you actually cared about the farewells, keeping your eyes on Casey.
He stared at up at you from the floor, wiping his nose and leaving a trail of blood on his hand. With a look of defeat, he watched as you merely stepped over his fallen body, and he evaded looking up your skirt. That's why you did such.
You heard Casey scrambling to his feet, and quickly fall into stride just a step behind you. He murmured your name with a request for you to slow down, along with, "I appreciate that. Again..."
You've saved his butt from this treatment over a dozen times - at first, it really bugged you seeing him getting treated like that, but your capacity to care about anything now regarding high school was slowly dwindling, along with Casey's testicular feeling.
"When are you gonna stop being such a pussy?" you muttered as you moved up the stairs.
If it were anyone else, Casey would've curled up in a ball with a tears in those baby blue eyes of his. But it was you. The girl next door, who had lived there since he could remember. The girl that forced him to follow her around with a loud voice, even though she never would have had to order him - he would've just followed you blindly.
The girl who, although always pretty, got even more gorgeous and started ignoring him when they hit middle school. Who had completely shut him out all of freshman and sophomore years of high school, before slowly slipping back into his life a few months ago at the start of senior.
Casey knew you didn't mean it like that. Sure, it was obvious he was, in fact, a pussy, but you meant it because you cared. You should've really said, 'When are you going to start sticking up for yourself?', but you settled for the vulgar option before compiling that other one up.
"Well, I've got a course this weekend that should cover the basics, so..." he trailed off in a joking manner, smiling stiffly when you turned your head to look at him as you entered the large double-doors of the school.
Casey was even more surprised when you came to a stop. He automatically halted as well, and even though you were more in the way of the entry doorway than he was, Casey still got hounded on by students as they passed.
"Pussy."
"Out of the way, bitch."
"That's a new one," Casey murmured mostly to himself when someone made a reference to his dick being as thin and small as a toothpick. You barely raised an eyebrow, folding your arms over your chest, which didn't help his focus.
"How's the photography thing going?" you asked, loosening your arms slightly to pinch at the camera strap carding over his chest.
"I've had this photography thing going since seventh grade," he frowned, tightening the strap slightly.
"And it still bores me," you shrugged. The conversation, which consisted of those three sentences, seemed to be enough for you as you walked past him.
You didn't bother with a farewell, making your way down to the end of the hall. Just as you turned a corner, you bumped into a solid mass of body, only seeing a flurry of burnt orange tee and a white-button up.
"Woah, princess."
"Wonderful," you sighed out, already registering the voice of the boy in front of you as you took a step back.
But the attempt was futile as he stepped forward, towering over you he always did - curse him for being just a hair away from 6'4 - his smirk making you roll your eyes.
Third and last, but certainly not least, as you angled your head to meet his gaze, was Zeke Tyler. Your average low-life, there was one in every school. Dabbled in drugs and fake ID's, a nuisance to both the student body and faculty of the school, and always, always had something to say to you.
You've never gotten along with him, even as a kid - he had spat gum into your hair and chased you around laughing as you screamed for your mother to remove it, and that was your first impression of him. You assumed he would apologise, but then he scribbled all over your drawing the next day in class with a black sharpie when you were strictly using pastel highlighters.
And then, from there on out, his treatments and pranks only got worse and more tactful, up until eighth grade, when you finally made a comeback after he spread a rumour about you and Andrew Sumners, Coach Willis' teaching assistant who was two years older then you.
From then on, you two were constantly at verbal war.
"Where are we headed off to in such a rush, princess?" he questioned with that same smirk.
"Class, because we are in school," you drew the words out with slow nods of your head, and he scoffed at your veiled jab at his schooling. So what he had to stay back another year? Everyone does it at least once in their life... right?
"I thought we could head somewhere else." Zeke's voice dropped, as did his neck which dipped so that his lips could hover just over the shell of your ear. "Somewhere more... private."
Another thing about Zeke Tyler? He was, without a doubt, and it actually angered you so much to say this, probably one of the most attractive guys you had ever met in your life.
You hadn't even realised how his hands had settled loosely over your hips, and you glanced down slightly, watching as his fingers played with the end of your shirt, playing with the fabric.
You looked up once more, and he was closer than ever, your nose brushing against his cheek as you inhaled shakily. Zeke smirked even moreso at the sound, tilting his head slightly. Doesn't his neck hurt from this?
He's done this whole thing before. It's always been subtle and barely concealed, but there was implication in the way he spoke to you. The way he had been speaking to you for all of high school. When you were kids, it was genuine animosity - he just didn't like you, and you just really hated him.
But then, you got older and hit middle school, and whilst he meddled in pranks and continued acting like a child, you started to grow up. You matured, put education first and used your academic tendencies to maintain good grades. You gained popularity, the kind where every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted you.
You didn't have time for Zeke anymore. Didn't have time for his childish antics.
You started looking at him like everyone else did.
As the years passed and you all grew up into your adolescent selfs, he realised that after the little incident in eighth grade, he had your attention for a bit. It was only a little, but he was back in your orbit again.
So, for the better part of middle school, he spread rumours and ticked you off in front of peers so that he was constantly on your mind. You would scheme for ways to get back at him, and Zeke was just happy to be on your mind again.
And you were still doing it. Even now, in your last year of high school. And what did high school bring that younger schooling didn't, that fuelled most arguments with Zeke these past few years?
The usual. Pure and plain stimulation of the horny opposite sex.
He had shifted your positions, the cold metal of the lockers seeping through your clothes, offering something to lean against and tempering your body heat.
"You know what we need for that then..." you trailed off, and Zeke pulled back only a tad, eyes widening partially, however still remaining cocky in their light.
He couldn't act surprised that you were going along with this. You have never entertained him like this before, nevertheless the idea to come.
"That is?"
"I saw you parading them around when you were hacking Ms. Burke in the parking lot," you whispered, and you trailed your fingers lightly over his stomach, feeling the muscles constrict at the touch. You remembered how put off she looked and genuinely upset at his words when all she had tried to do was encourage his studies. Zeke was - and only a few people, yourself included knew - actually smart, especially in the science department. "What did you say about them? Magnum sized... Cherry-flavoured..."
Zeke watched you with parted lips that could barely be called a smile, eyes dipping to your own pair that were glossed in a shiny red-sheer gloss that only fuelled his desire for a fucking cherry.
"You know, Zeke..." You were whispering now, and he had to bite back a groan as you came so close to him, your mouth brushing against his cheek as you spoke, "I can't believe you're actually falling for this."
Out of nowhere, you hiked your knee and hit him where those damned cherry condoms could go to waste. You shoved him away from you just as he doubled over and nearly clutched you like before.
You slipped around him as he leaned against the locker, blowing out breaths as he groaned out, "Fuckin' hell..."
"See you in Lit, jackass," you scoffed with a victorious smirk.
That's where you found yourself half an hour later with - as coincidental as it seems - Ms. Burke. She smiled at you softly when you entered the classroom, not as timid as she usually was with the other students. You were very passionate about English as a subject and literature, and you were the top student in the grade for it. Ms. Burke appreciated your academic incline for the subject, and always enjoyed your thoughts on certain pieces.
That, and the fact that you were the only one to treat her with an ounce of respect unlike the other students and even most of the faculty.
You cast a glance over your shoulder, meeting the dark stare of Zeke. He was leaning over his desk, almost hunched over, with his hand between his legs. You couldn't help but offer him a little smile, and he pinched his eyes at you in a mocking expression, clenching his jaw a little.
"Miss Moore, if you could please meet at Principle Drake's office, please."
Your eyebrows furrowed partially at the broadcast announcement, which was followed by a slight string of 'oooo's, your peers wondering what the princess of Herrington could be in trouble for, if you even were.
Ms. Burke murmured your name, gesturing to the door, "Please turn your report in at the end of the day, if you have time too."
"Sure, Ms. Burke," you nodded as you passed her with your books. You ventured out of the classroom, glancing over your shoulder and meeting Zeke's gaze just as you passed the threshold into the hallway.
You made your way towards Principle Drake's office, taking your time and humming softly to yourself. You finally made it to the office, and your eyes caught onto a girl through the crack in the office door. From what you could see, she had bright blonde hair that fell over a tacky floral sweater.
Suddenly, both her and Mrs. Drake, who was smiling at her from the other side of the desk, both looked at you, the former turning around in her seat. They moved together as if in sync, and you furrowed your eyebrows slightly as you manoeuvred through the waiting area outside of her office.
Mrs. Drake greeted you as you stood by the doorway, "Come in, dear."
You spotted a smile for her and a nod, moving to sit down on the adjacent seat by the blonde-haired girl. You met her eyes as you chanced a look at her, finding the girl staring at you with a bright smile.
"What did you need to see me for, Mrs. Drake?" you asked, looking away from her.
"This is our new student, Marybeth Louise Hutchinson," the principal answered, gesturing towards the girl.
"Of Atlanta," Marybeth added in a chirp, abruptly thrusting her hand out in the space between you both.
You didn't risk an odd glance at the principal, pasting on a small smile as you proceeded to shake her hand. You offered your name with the introduction, "It's nice to meet you. Welcome to Herrington High."
"Thank you so much," she gushed with a large smile. "Golly, you're the first person here to talk to me all morning."
Because I have too.
"Don't worry, people here aren't really used to newcomers," you said instead with a light shrug.
"Dear, I was hoping you could show Marybeth around the school and help her find her classes," Principal Drake intercepted, and you looked at her. You couldn't help but squint your eyes as you looked at the woman. She had a smile on her face - that was the weird part. She thoroughly avoided students and if she did, she was anything but nice, just a restricted tolerance for you all.
And she never, ever called you dear.
"Uh, sure," you confirmed after a moment.
"Wonderful," the older woman beamed, before glancing between the two of you. "She shares biology with you as your next period, with Mr. Furlong. You'll do good at securing her a lab partner, won't you?"
"Oh, can I be yours?" Marybeth asked, clutching her hands together in a motion of prayer. Okay, she was definitely kind of weird.
You pursed your lips, nodding your head slowly. "Sure," you murmured. Suddenly, the bell rung overhead, meaning that the next period would soon be starting. "Well, we should probably head off then."
You rose from your seat along with Marybeth and Mrs. Drake, the latter moving around the desk. She abruptly placed her hand on your arm, and you flinched at the feeling, taking a minor step backwards. She watched you with that same smile that unnerved you.
"I appreciate your hospitality," she grinned again.
You glanced at her with a sidelong stare, smiling shortly that would be deemed polite enough. "No stress, Mrs. Drake."
"Bye, Principal Drake!" Marybeth waved at the woman before following you out of the office. You were quiet as you moved out into the bustling hallway, weaving through students alone, in pairs and groups. You weren't the biggest fan of biology and science in general - you preferred classes like English, history and arts. Mathematics and science were never really your strong suit.
"I like your shoes."
You glanced over your shoulder, finding Marybeth beside you, and you cursed yourself for nearly forgetting about her. "Oh, thanks," you smiled softly, taking a glance at the pair yourself. They were a gift from your aunt - just because. "I like your necklace," you offered back.
"Thank you," she beamed, clutching the silver heart locket resting on her chest. "My mama gave it to me before I left Atlanta."
"That's sweet," you murmured. "So, what else did you need for the day? We only share a few classes, but I'm happy to hunt you down and help you find the others."
"Oh, I'd really appreciate that," Marybeth hummed, apologising brightly at a girl who purposefully bumped into her. "Um, I guess all I need is the status quo of this joint. I just wanna know who's who, you know?"
"Uh, sure," you chuckled in amusement, casting another greeting over your shoulder at someone who tried speaking to you. Marybeth watched the exchange with intrigued eyes - nearly everyone you passed seemed to like you enough to say hello or at least smile ay you.
Guess you're one of the lucky ones who have it easy.
"Just point someone out and I'll see if I can help," you offered with a shrug and a quiet question in your tone - I mean, is that what she meant?
"Well, let's start easy," she grinned as you turned a corner. "Who are you?"
You couldn't help but have a dual reaction; your eyebrows raised in surprise but you still smiled nonetheless. "What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone here seems to like you," Marybeth said rather bluntly. "I've only been here for a few hours, and everyone is so hostile towards each other... Not to you though."
"Oh, I..." you trailed off, sort of at a loss for words. Of course, you picked up on this. You've known it forever. But how can you say that without sounding like a total asshole? 'Oh yeah, I'm just super popular and everyone loves me'. You didn't want to sound like a conceited bitch yet. "I didn't realise."
Marybeth just giggled softly, slowing down to match your pace. "Yeah, and you've got some cute admirers too."
This made your eyes widen and your brows shoot up. "Oh, I do?"
"Well, yeah," she chuckled. "You haven't noticed? You've got the king of stereotypical jock kings." You pinched your lips slightly at the nickname she had picked out for, you assumed, Stan. "And then that tall and gorgeous bad boy?"
You looked over at her, barely containing an amused grin, "Their names are Stan and Zeke."
"Well, I saw you and Zeke in the hallway," she shrugged her shoulder, "Boy, you two leave nothing to imagination."
A sprout of quiet laughter erupted from you, and you couldn't help but shake your head at the girl. Okay, so maybe she was a little weird at the beginning, but she's proving to be a bit of spitfire. "You're very bold, Marybeth of Atlanta."
"Bold?"
"And early for bio," you added as you stepped into a classroom. Marybeth followed after you with a smile, immediately taking in the sight of the biology classroom. There were a few students already, and she spotted the girl from before that she had tried speaking to during the break. Stokely, she recalled.
The girl watched the two of you enter, a scowl mainly directed at you that you seemed to just ignore. Marybeth thought that you might say something like that Delilah girl had done - about her being a bitch or violent, or maybe something about her sexuality again.
But you merely ignored it, heading over to the man behind his desk. "Mr. Furlong," you called, and the man looked up, smiling crookedly at you.
"Present," he joked.
"Got fresh meat for you," you smiled, glancing over your shoulder as Marybeth trailed behind you. "Marybeth Louise Hutchinson."
"Of Atlanta," the girl added, just as she did when you first met her.
"Oh," Furlong nodded.
"Definitely don't forget that part," you teased.
"Never, that's the most important part of who you are, Marybeth," he smirked, before waving his hand in both a greeting and to brush off the teasing nature of your little jabs. "Nice to meet you. I'll find you a lab partner."
"I can't be hers?" the girl wondered, pointing at you.
"Sorry, I've already picked them out. The kid's had a few weeks to scope each other out like usual before I paired them up."
"That's a shame," you murmured in a half-assed attempt to sound upset about the whole ordeal. Marybeth seemed to fall for it, pouting softly. "Who'd you pair me up with, Furlong?"
"Drumroll, please," he requested, and you tapped your manicured fingernails against the back of your textbook. He joined in the drumming of his fingers against the side of his desk. "Because I hate you so much, I've got you with Zeke."
Your lips parted, and he could only shrug with a slight smile. "I hope you don't mean either of that."
"Okay, not the first part - you're probably one of the only students I can tolerate," he conceded, but then pursed his lips. "But, second part is true."
"Sir," you practically whined.
"It's all I've got," Furlong cringed, holding his hands up. "You're the only he listens to, and he doesn't threaten you with a scalpel like the other kids. You're my best bet at avoiding a law suit."
"Wow," you deadpanned, rolling your eyes, "It's nice to know you care about my wellbeing."
"Favourite student," he called out in the air as you turned away from him.
"Who, me?" Casey smiled softly as he entered the classroom. Furlong smiled shortly at him as he approached him with a hop in his step. He passed you with a grin before looking at his teacher. "I found something on the football field. Thought you might want to take a look."
"What is it?"
"I was hoping you could tell me."
Your interest couldn't help but be piqued as you slowly edged towards the desk where Mr. Furlong had pulled out a microscope and began investigating whatever the hell Casey had found. A few students gathered around, before most of the class was surrounding the desk.
"This certain Mesozoan only exists in the kidney of certain squid and octopi..." He rose from the desk with a deep frown settled on his features. "Which doesn't make sense because-"
"This is Ohio," Casey finished.
"Right..." Mr. Furlong leaned back down as he placed his glasses on, a constant furrow in his forehead prominent. You watched as he worked with a pair of tweezers as he tapped at the thing under the scope. It looked disgusting, to be completely honest. Wrapped in weird skin and the size of a cockroach, it looked like some type of creature you'd find in an alien movie or something. "Well, it's a pelagic organism."
"What's pelagic?" Gabe asked from beside you and Stokely. You were surprised she chose to come over - you didn't think she was big on science or anything remotely educational - and she always chose to stand by you.
"Sea-dwelling organism."
It was sounded from a little way's behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Zeke sitting at the table near the back. Your books were stacked neatly on one side, whilst a single ripped up notebook and a pen were chucked haphazardly on his side of the desk.
"Exactly," Mr. Furlong confirmed with a quiet hint of shock that he had known the answer. "But see, I don't recognised the surface tissue at all. Casey, I don't wanna blow smoke up your butt here, but I think you found a new species."
"Yeah right," Gabe scoffed with a smirk.
"Hey, it could happen," he defended as you all inched a little closer to look at this mysterious organism. "New species are discovered every single day. Don't be so cynical."
There was shuffling behind you, and you looked up to see Zeke moving through the small heard of students to the side. He inched past Casey and Marybeth, the latter looking over at you with a quirk of her lips.
"Could it be gnathostomulida?" he questioned, moving Casey out of the way before swooping in to look at the microscope.
"No, they-"
"They escaped detective till the mid-20th century," he interrupted Furlong's guide of mistake.
"You just know everything," you commented.
Zeke looked up at you for a moment, meeting your eyes before smirking and looking back down into the microscope. "I'm a contradiction," he said in a low voice.
"And corny as fuck," you smirked, a few chuckles sounding at your jab, including Marybeth's snort.
"Check the mesodermic follicles on its underbelly," Furlong advised, not even bothering to pull you up in your language.
"What does that mean?" Casey wondered.
"Means we gotta call the university, let them take a look, maybe even get in on some of that federal grant money," he murmured at the end, before sprouting up to look at his class. "Our secret, right?"
As he moved the organism onto a board in the centre of the desk, you heard Gabe mutter with a teasing smirk, "Hey Stokely, maybe it's from your planet."
"Oh, blow me, blood fart."
She nudged his shoulder with a scoff, but the action made Gabe knock over a glass of water. It spilled over the desk, landing directly into the tray and filling up the bottom of it.
Your eyes widened as the creature twitched in the water, immediately speaking, "Did you see that?"
You all lowered, with Gabe moving over your shoulder and Stokely pressed up against you as you titled your head. "What's it doing?" the former questioned with a curl of his lip.
"Ka-ching," Furlong grinned as he swooped the tray up. You were so intrigued as you followed after him alongside a few students, and you felt a presence coming up behind you.
"So you think it's amphibian?" Zeke questioned as he walked beside you. You couldn't even curse him out or try to throw a jab at him, too intrigued by this random phenomenon on this Thursday morning.
"Well, water resuscitated it."
"Yeah, but couldn't this kill it?" you questioned as he came to a stop in front of the large fish tank at the back of the classroom. "What if it drowns?"
"One way to find out," Furlong said as he tipped the tray over and sent the organism diving into the tank. Immediately, the creature thrived in the water, shuffling about before fully snapping back into its state, sending the students in a fit of shocked gasps. Furlong reassured the others but you were too caught up in watching the mysterious organism.
It was translucent somehow, so you could see through its thin skin where its organs were on display. Somehow from the water, strings of red had popped out of its body, along the middle of it and its tail. With each second, they seemed to grow.
"Mr. Furlong, what are you doing?" Gabe questioned at the sound of synthetic rubber snapping against his skin.
"Just gonna check his prostate," he answered as he adjusted the glove. "Actually, the surface texture changed so..."
"Sir, that's probably the dumbest thing you could do," you sighed, and he glanced over at you with an assuring smile as his hand descended into the tank.
"I just want to feel it," he said absentmindedly just as his fingers traced the creature. It swam out of his grasp, fiddling past his palm, when all of a sudden-
"Did that thing just double?" Gabe gasped.
Your lips parted in shock when you watched it happen - it just split apart somehow, and then another creature identical to it merely appeared in the water, swimming around. "It can replicate," Mr. Furlong murmured in quiet shock.
"Okay, maybe you should remove your hand no-"
"AH, FUCK!" Furlong suddenly shouted, wrenching his arm out of the tank with a vigorous thrust of water. It splashed everywhere, landing on your shirt as you stepped away from the man in fear. "God damn it!" he exclaimed as he held his finger up.
"I told you, god," you hissed as you looked at the appendage. Blood sprouted from the bite? cut? slice? You didn't know, but it pooled down the glove.
"I-I'm okay," the man stuttered out. "It has teeth."
"Where did it get teeth?" Casey questioned, glancing between him and the bloodied finger.
"... I'm gonna call the university."
Mr. Furlong stepped away from the tank, moving through the gaggle of his entire class whilst the rest of you stayed near the table. You glanced over at Casey, and he met your eyes with a deep furrow in his brow.
Below, Stokes pressed her hand against the glass of the tank, and the creature moved its long antennas along the surface and tracing her fingers like a mirror.
Later that day when school had ended, you were reminded about Stan earlier this morning. He seemed adamant on it, upset when you said you couldn't at that very moment. And then news about Mrs. Brummel started filtering around the hallways, and you found out from Gabe as he talked your ear off in history about how Stan was the one who found her. Or she found him, per se, because she walked in on him showering.
You moved through the hallways as the last of classes ended, finding Stan and Casey at the nursing office. The former was speaking Mrs. Olson, his hair still wet and the curls defined from the moisture.
He saw you before you could speak, saying your name as he uncrossed his arms and took a step towards you.
"Hey," you murmured, catching his arms and trailing your hands down them. Stan followed the movement, before retracing back to your eyes. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," he nodded with a small tug of his lips, before nudging his head towards Casey. He was seated by the window, watching you with his camera up. "Good thing this perv was creeping by and saw her as well."
"I am not a perv," the boy rolled his eyes, rising from the seat and walking towards you. "And I was not creeping."
"Boys." You all looked over at Mrs. Olsen, who seemed to only have eyes for you. She looked so... different - you had noticed it this morning as well. Usually, her hair was curly and pulled up into a messy bun, thick glasses over her eyes, no make-up and a frumpy skirt. But today, she showed up in a full face, hair blown out with no glasses, and a pant suit. "I hope you can reassure me that the situation at hand does not spread. Even with how convincing Miss Moore is."
Your face mirrored that of surprise at her words, and you could decipher the hidden meaning in it, as well as her smirk.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Olson," Stan murmured after a moment, a deep frown painting his features as he looked at her. "We can keep quiet."
"Hm." The woman smiled at each of you, showcasing her lipstick lacquered lips. "I'll see you kids tomorrow. Have a good rest of your day."
She manoeuvred around the three of you, casting an odd smile past her shoulder as she entered one of the offices. A weird feeling settled in your stomach when she disappeared, and your face must've shown it, because Stan swooped a little to see you.
"You okay?"
"Mm-hmm," you nodded, before your lips pulled into a tiny smile. He returned it immediately. "I wanted to see you."
"You did?" Stan asked, eyes twinkling.
"Well, yeah," you smiled. "You said you needed to talk to me. I'm sorry I couldn't find you today. I was haggling the new girl."
"Right," he recalled, nodding his head. "Yeah, I did want to talk to you."
However, he didn't speak yet, seemingly happy with whatever was happening right now. You felt his fingers on your arms again like before, and you daringly met his eyes-
"Ahem." Casey cleared his throat. "What's going on here?" he questioned, his eyes latched onto how close you and Stan stood, and how the boy was practically holding your hands.
"What's going on is that you're gonna fuck off," Stan answered as he pulled his eyes away from you.
His hostility only fuelled Casey to disappear, not without a glance at you first. You just notched your head to the doorway, and he scrambled out into the hallway with the rest of the students. If you remembered correctly, he would be meeting up Delilah for the school newspaper.
"So..." you called, and Stan looked at you. "What's going on?"
"Can I grab my stuff from the locker room? I didn't get a chance too because of the Brummel thing."
"Yeah, of course."
The two of you left the office, walking through the halls of the school. There were still some students idling about, leaned up against their lockers and getting the last of their things, and some entering classrooms for clubs like the debate team or chess. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
The locker room was coming up, and Stan turned to you for a moment. "Wait for me?"
You merely hummed with a nod as your answer, and he sent you that crooked smile again before disappearing into the locker room to grab his things. You were humming again, leaning against the wall and twiddling your fingers.
However, a sudden sound made you look up. The door to a classroom was waning open, and you realised it was Ms. Burke's room. Your eyes furrowed slightly, before they widened with realisation. You had forgotten to hand in your paper like she had asked.
You started making your way towards the classroom whilst also handling your backpack and trifling through the books and supplies to find what you needed. You fished it out in its clear plastic binder just as you came towards the door.
It was slightly ajar, but you came to a sudden stop when you heard movement. You could hear Ms. Burke and her timid voice - she sounded... scared. More scared then usually did.
And then you heard another voice.
"Ms. Burke, if you would please..." Mrs. Olson. "There is something that needs to be discussed."
"But, Mrs. Olson... I know what I saw."
You heard a thrash down the hall, turning around with a gasp. There was nothing there for a moment, until a few boys, including Gabe, exited the locker room. The paper was clutched to your chest as they moved down the other end of the hallway where the exit was, laughing loudly about the bloodshed tomorrow.
Of the opposing football team.
You were so caught up in all these noises and thoughts running through your head, that you nearly missed the gasp coming from the classroom. You went still when you recognised it was Ms. Burke.
Without a second thought, you slowly raised your hand towards the door, ready to push it open. If you saw something wrong and screamed, Stan would hear you and come out to save you.
You did, in fact, scream.
It was short and more of a shrill gasp, but Ms. Burke didn't flinch at all by the noise. She stared at you from the open doorway, her red nails digging into the wood.
She stated your name almost robotically, her eyes unusually wide and her smile long and unnaturally bright. She never looked like that ever, not even when you told her good news.
"Ms. Burke," you breathed out.
"Hello," she responded. "How can I help you?"
"My..." You stopped, squinting your eyes at her as you caught your breath. "My paper."
"What about it?"
"You wanted me to hand it in?"
"Oh, yes," the woman smiled, holding out her hand towards you. Silently, you slipped the sheet over her palm and she clutched it in a sudden vice, making you flinch with a light jump in your shoulders.
"Miss, you sounded..." you trailed off, shaking your head slightly. "Are you okay?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Ms. Burke questioned, feigning confusion.
"I heard-"
"Ah, hello." Your eyes widened, and you found yourself taking a step back at the sight of her. Mrs. Olson slunk up beside the other woman, sending you a wide-eyed, tight-lipped smile. "It's you again."
"Mrs. Olson," you murmured softly in greeting.
She continued smiling at you, and looked as if she wanted to move closer to you. You looked down at the hallway - empty and quiet now. As you stepped back once more, head curving slightly when Ms. Burke followed, you shot up at the feeling of mass behind you.
You spun around with a gasp, immediately feeling hands on your arms that steadied you quickly. "Woah, woah, it's just me," Stan rushed out, and you nearly groaned from the flurry of emotions all packed into this single minute.
"Oh, dear," Ms. Burke tutted. "You are so jumpy today. Perhaps you should head to Nurse Harper. See if she can spot anything."
"No!" you exclaimed rather loudly, breathing in deeply and clearing your throat slightly as you adjusted yourself in Stan's unrelenting hold. "No, I.. Thank you, Ms. Burke, but I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Mrs. Olson questioned with a tilt of her head.
"Yes, very," you answered immediately.
You felt yourself curl closer to Stan, and he immediately wrapped his arm around you slightly, trying to get a good look at you as to how you had changed so much when he just disappeared for a minute or two.
"How sweet," the woman mused, glancing between you both. "Well, we will see you tomorrow. Get home safe."
You didn't answer her, turning around and sending Stan a look that screamed 'We need to get the fuck out of here NOW'. He amended immediately, nodding stiffly at the two teachers who watched you both walk away until you were out the door and trailing towards the car park.
"Okay, what happened?" he questioned as he watched you thread your fingers through your hair.
"I don't know," you muttered.
"Well something must've because you looked scared shitless."
"I said I don't know, Stan," you repeated with a venomous emphasis. "Just give me a second, fuck." He went silent with a barely interruptible sigh, leaning against his Jeep whilst he watched you pace slowly. You wrung your hands and twisted your shoulders. "... Okay, I heard something."
"Heard what?" he questioned immediately.
"When you went into the locker room, I saw the classroom door moving. It reminded me that I had to give Ms. Burke the paper that was due today because it was her classroom," you started. "Just as I got there, I heard a really weird conversation. And then I heard some kind of gasp - she sounded terrified, Stan."
"But..." the boy sighed, shrugging a shoulder to try and think up something to say, "Ms. Burke is always like that. You could whisper something and she would scream."
"No, Stan, this is different," you denied, shaking your head. "Something happened. And Mrs. Olson... she's been weird since this morning."
"She's always weird."
"You're not listening."
"I'm trying," he said, leaning off from the jeep when he heard the light break in your voice. "I just... I don't know what it means either."
You let out another sigh, sniffling slightly. Your fingers massaged your eyelids, before you snapped back up. "Wait, I forgot why I'm even here." You took a step towards him, tilting your head. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Oh," he recalled, before shaking his head with a light wave of his hand. "It's fine. It's nothing important."
"I'm sure it is, you've been trying to track me all day," you rebuked. "Tell me."
Stan's tongue danced through his mouth and over his teeth before he blew out a breath. "I quit the football team."
"Oh," your eyes widened slightly at the news. Ever since you had known Stan, he was always in one sport. For him to not be attached to any type of athletic activity would be almost uncanny. "Why?"
He chuckled, though it sounded more like a scoff. "Just tired of everyone kissing my ass cause I'm Captain of the football team. The coach, the students, even the teachers... Last year, after we won the 2-way conference, I made a D on a biology test right after, and Mr. Furlong changed it to an A." Stan pushed off from his car, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned around to look at you. "He said I deserved it for having such a strong arm. That really bugged me, you know? I worked hard for that D. That was my D. I deserved that D..." He trailed off, once more leaning against the jeep and looking up at the sky. "I just wish people would let me be... you know..."
"A D student?" you offered with a tilt of your head.
"Yeah," he smiled, shaking his head slightly. You chuckled softly, and he matched it, before pursing his lips a little. "You probably think its stupid."
"No," you denied with a curl of your lip. "I think it's amazing."
"Amazing?"
"Amazing," you nodded, bracing off from the car and moving to stand in front of him. "I think you want to be more than what people say you are. You want to try new things. You want to be an A student." He smirked at your last point, but still looked at you, although squinting from the late afternoon sun. "So, yeah... I think you're amazing."
"You changed that."
"I did?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "You said 'it'. Then you said 'you're.'"
"Silly me," you chided lightly. "Boosting your ego." There was a soft tension in the air that was bubbling. You looked at Stan as he looked at you, and you pursed your lips into a smile. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me."
"I'm glad you listened," he laughed softly. "But I'm more glad that you supported me." You hummed slightly, before picking your bag from the floor that you had tossed in your nervous pace.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded at you, and you turned away, beginning your short walk towards your car. It was easy to spot, both with its colour and the fact that the parking lot was pretty empty.
"Hey." You paused at Stan's voice, turning slightly to look at him. "I wanna listen to you tomorrow."
"About?"
"About today." You frowned at that, and all the quiet happiness faded into a light sense of fear. You were brought back to the feeling from before - heart hammering, shaky hands, a fear palpating in your chest like a heartbeat. "And I promise I'll support you," he stated.
You met his eyes in the hot sun of the afternoon. Stan waited on your reply, but you didn't answer, instead slowly turning and walking towards your car instead.
You definitely didn't want to come to school tomorrow. And not because of Stan... You looked over at the school, eyes tracing the windows. You looked away before you spotted anything suspicious.
Even though you could feel eyes on you.