Chapter Text
Caitlyn Kiramman’s junior year was in bound, the year of SATs, college choices and every little step to becoming an adult. There was one instruction she missed on the manual, however, and it was to make friends.
But she actually has friends. Just…not friends her age. That shouldn’t be a worry, right? She has good grades, her GPA stands out, she doesn’t need to worry about love or friendship.
Jayce was her closest, well, only friend. They always hung out when they both had the time to, which was rare. They did find time to hangout, however, during the first week back at Piltover High. Caitlyn and Jayce had met up at Jayce’s loft, both laying on the second-hand couch. The blue-haired girl was on her laptop, creating plans on her calendar app as Jayce stared at her with concern.
“You really need to join something.”
“I’m in a lot of activities already, I don’t need to join anything else.” Caitlyn continued to type away, face way too close to the screen. She focused on the little details though it was just a calendar app.
“You really need to join something with interaction.” Jayce slurped from his mug–a tall, white, ceramic mug with a pack of dogs photographed from a wide angle. He slurped loudly, the type where you can feel your upper lip vibrate against the cup, something that Caitlyn despised.
“Can you not do that?” Caitlyn set the laptop down on the woody coffee table and pinched her nose bridge, closing her eyes hard to avoid his eye contact.
Jayce looked at her as he continued his antics before pulling away for a slight second. “Can you join an extracurricular with real people your age?” He then started again.
Caitlyn covered her face, screaming “Fine! If you stop, I will!”
And Jayce stopped. He smiled and put his mug down, picking up the laptop back up and browsed the school website for a list of clubs. He started to read down the alphabetical order of clubs, each where Caitlyn shook her head or said no to.
“Sprout, we went down the whole list. You seriously have no interest in any of these clubs?”
“They all sound too weird or boring. I’d rather listen to my mom blabber about how good I am at the shooting range, and I’ve heard that more than a million times.” Caitlyn sighed and covered her face, slouching so her elbows dug into her thighs. “Maybe I should just be homeschooled.”
Jayce snapped in front of her face and shook his head, pursing his lips like a disappointed English teacher. “You don’t say that, homeschooled kids grow up to believe that aliens are real and are roaming the earth.”
The younger pupil took her right hand off her face just to slap his shoulder, smiling as she heard those words. She then took her other hand off, scratching her head as she thought of the clubs she could join.
“Do you want me to choose for you?”
Caitlyn looked at him with a raised eyebrow, then tilting her head like he grew two more heads. “You’re going to put me in the anime club.”
“Am not!” Jayce laughed, then started from the top of the website, starting over and skimming through the list again. He thought long and hard, occasionally shaking his head at the screen. He knew Caitlyn for a long time–so long that he would know the real Caitlyn if she had a doppelganger. After a long time of consideration and looking from the computer to Caitlyn, Jayce picked a club for her.
“Journalism.”
“What?” Caitlyn’s accent shined through her exclaim, her brows furrowing and her jaw so open it could hit the floor.
“You said choose a club, so I did.” Jayce smiled, proud of the club he just chose. “It says there is already a class for it though, so it’s like a free trial thing. You only have access to newspapers or photographs for the articles.”
Caitlyn clearly wasn’t pleased, raising an eyebrow because he had clearly missed the memo. “I’m not doing journalism, and I technically never said yes to you picking for me.”
“Yeah, you are, sprout. You need human interaction. And so what if I did choose for you anyway? You hang out with me and I’m almost 23. You hang out with boomers.”
“Ew! Jayce!” Caitlyn made another disgusted face, her dark blue power chains peeking through the reaction that Jayce wanted. “You’re so old.”
· · ─ · 📷 · ─ · ·
Once Jayce signed Caitlyn Kiramman to the Piltover High Journalism Club, it felt as if she had joined a new dimension. Standing before the door that loudly read “Journalism” in bold and big letters, she held her breath as she knocked twice. It took a few seconds before someone could answer, and once the door opened there were a bunch of pupils that were the complete opposite of her inside that room.
“Hey! You here for the club meeting?” A blonde girl who looked to be a senior popped her gum, smiling as she chewed. The younger scholar quickly nodded and she was led inside, examining the large room of tables and computers throughout. Ordered to sit at any table, she did as she was told and sat in the front.
She stayed throughout the entire meeting, start to finish, learning the different tasks you could do in the club. There were two specific jobs in the “free trial,” and Caitlyn Kiramman had made a mental list of pros and cons of each.
If she had joined the newspaper, she could have been recognized. She had written essays before and scored an A on all of them, so this would've been good for her–until she learned about the AP style. The concept wasn’t difficult, but the adjustment and the rule to stay unbiased bugged her.
There was also photography. The ability to escape shooting range practices and occupy your hands for something other than a gun was nice, but she had no clue how to work a camera. Luckily, the officers at this club are nice enough to teach her, but maybe she wouldn’t be as recognized for her work like writing. She felt as if she was on a bridge that was about to tear and she needed to choose a side before it snapped and took her down with it.
In that moment of her mental list she had to make a choice. That same blonde girl that greeted her was asking everyone to fill out a survey on which job they would like to suffice before the club meeting ended. She opened the form and filled her personal information, the questionnaire sailing smoothly until she had to choose her job. The young scholar still pondered, going over her pros and cons once more, but she decided there was only one way to solve it–to ask the boomer that taught mathematics.
Me: Jayce! I need ur help
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: whats up sprout im grading papers right now
Me: I’m filling out that journalism essay but I don’t know if I should do photography or article writing!!! ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)° ｡
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: well, did you make a list of pros and cons?
Me: Of course I did…anyway, I would’ve done article writing if they hadn’t used that stupid rule of being unbiased! You know I’m strong about that my opinion!! (◞‸ ◟) Jayce just get me out of this club already
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: to hell you’re not leaving, kid. what about photography?
Me: I don’t know how to use a camera ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)° ｡ ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)° ｡ ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)° ｡ ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)° ｡
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: thats something new to learn, then!
Me: you’re not freaking helping.
Caitlyn placed her phone face down and took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she stared at that question:
“What job do you think best fits you? Why?”
She stayed frozen for a few minutes before she felt a presence over her, this time a different person. He had a shaggy haircut with blue undertones just behind his ears, square glasses and jewelry galore. If you were friends with him, you could hear his trinkets from a mile away.
“Is everything okay over here?” He spoke with a flat tone, his voice a bit quiet.
“Yeah, um, I just need help with…deciding.” Caitlyn took a deep breath and exhaled nervously, her body still clenching as she breathed out. “Do you…offer photography lessons?”
l“Yes, we do…uhhh…” The older one looked around, putting the side of his hand right above his eyebrows to look for someone. “Mr. Viktor offers them, I just don’t know where he went. But, if you’re completely new to using a camera, your advisors can also help you. Like me.” He gave the blue haired girl a thumbs up before walking away to help another student, leaving Caitlyn with even more curiosity.
Mr. Viktor…he sounds familiar.
Caitlyn took a deep breath and recited Jayce’s words in her mind as she typed her answer into the box.
· · ─ · 📷 · ─ · ·
“Photography? And you talked to Jayce before me?” Cassandra Kiramman sat next to her husband and across from her only daughter, stirring her tea whilst interrogating her child.
“It was his idea…he wants me to involve myself with people my age.” Caitlyn scooped two sugar cubes before dropping it into her teacup, stirring lightly before sipping quietly. “He thinks it would be good for me, and I’m already trained with guns, so cameras wouldn’t be as difficult.”
“This would interfere with your range shooting, no? And who is funding this? Is there a fee?” Cassandra rambled on a slew of questions before her husband calmed her down, asking her to take a deep breath and a sip of her tea before continuing.
l“I would agree with Jayce, a lot of your activities are independent. It’s good that a growing child connects with other pupils her age, Cassandra.” Tobias placed a hand on her back, slowly rubbing in circles. She looked away before looking back at her daughter. “Who will teach you? Surely, there must be a teacher there.”
“The officers said Mr. Viktor can teach me.”
“Mr. Viktor? He’s from Zaun.”
“Mom!” Caitlyn furrowed her brows. “Piltover and Zaun have been interconnected since I was in the sixth grade. You should know that.”
“Obviously I do, but–” Cassandra cut herself off and took another deep breath, closing her eyes before exhaling. “Fine. I will let you do this…photographing activity. But no unprofessional business. If you do anything as breaking the camera, I’m sending you back with Grayson.”
“Yes, mother.”
Once Caitlyn was excused to her room, she
immediately texted her older brother figure.
Me: Jayce!! My mom let me! And also…uh, who is Mr. Viktor? I filled out a form they gave us and I applied to be a photographer.
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: Hey! Mr Viktor is a friend of mine. He’s a science teacher, but he is the advisor for the journalism club…for some reason. Nevermind that. He can teach you how to use a camera, maybe.
Me: Yeah, another student told me that. Is he…nice? My mom was a bit concerned because he’s from Zaun.
Annoying Extraterrestrial Being: He’s respectful if you respect him. He’s strangely laid back, but I trust you with him. You’ll be fine!
Me: Okay. Thank you, Jayce!
Caitlyn set her phone down and fell face first into her mound of pillows.
· · ─ · 📷 · ─ · ·
For the next few meetings, all members in the journalism club were assigned roles and then separated into two groups: photography and newspaper writing. Luckily for Caitlyn, she had landed the role she wanted, steering away from any AP style writing. During her club time, she learned about what was on a camera, how to hold it, use it, and angles from presentations, never actually learning from the model itself. Aside from slideshows, she also learned from videos, searching up tutorials and tips on the internet. After a few meetings of learning, it was time for their first official cycle. “For this club, I will let you guys be paired–only one photographer and one writer, please.” Viktor stood by the board, looking at all the new students at their tables. “If I see two groups working together, newspaper will be handwriting their articles and photography will draw for them. You have two to three minutes to find a partner.”
It took a minute for students to realize those three minutes started now, so the silence of the room erupted with multiple chairs on wheels moving around for students to get with their friends. Caitlyn looked around, not finding anyone familiar, so she’d rather let Mr. Viktor assign her a partner. That was, until, a ginger girl walked up to her with a bright smile.
“Hi! Are you a photographer or a writer?” The girl had short, ginger hair just below her ears and freckles spreading across her nose and cheeks. Her accent was clear; a smooth, Scottish accent but it wasn’t anything remarkable. However, for some reason, it struck a cord–similar to a violin being plucked and strung for the first time, Caitlyn couldn’t help but pull her attention to her.
“I’m a photographer.” Caitlyn smiled back, looking up at the girl. She watched the girl in front of her smile wider, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of her.
“That’s great! I’m a writer, we can work together. What’s your name?”
“Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman.”
“Cute name. I’m Maddie Nolen.”