Chapter Text
Doleson Memorial High School
Early September, 1999
Cosima haughtily shoved her schedule back into her rucksack in dreadful anticipation of the first period bell. She glanced at the clock at the end of the hallway. In a few minutes another school day would begin. She threw her ‘Exploratory Spanish’ textbook into her rucksack while attempting to keep the cascade of study notes from escaping her cubbyhole of a locker.
She had Sr. Bellivue first thing. Nothing better to wake me up than Spanish grammar on this bright and early morning, she thought.
Spanish III Honors. There was not a single cell in her body that did not detest that class completely. Cosima had found no use for it and being in Sr. Bellivue’s class was painful. His perky Southwest European lilt was the main cause for aggravation. It was the equivalent to listening to nails on a chalkboard. She was amused at his confidence as he slaughtered the entirety of the Spanish language one lesson at a time.
She only had the short walk from her locker to the language wing to build up the required amount of tolerance for the agonizing class that was ahead.
Cosima dreaded the halls almost as much as she hated Spanish class. She walked faster than average and it was made difficult by the looming students who grazed the hallways, stalling to get to their classes. They chatted in perfect circles with their peers. Cosima picked up snippets of conversation. "Where were you last night?" and "You won't believe how dumb Jake's acting. He's being, like, so unfair." A melody entered her head.
"Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,"
Ticky tacky, she thought. That's all we are.
Lockers crashed and students coolly strode in late. She glanced into other classes and saw people begin to take their seats. She meticulously weaved through the crowd and looked to cross to the other side of the hallway when the impending doom of Spanish class hit her again.
It’s only an hour. She sighed. There's a green one and a pink one and blue one and a–
THUNK. “Woah. Sorry.” She hadn’t even noticed the girl pacing toward her. Her binder full of papers stacked on top of a pile of textbooks diffused across the ground upon their charged impact.
“I totally didn’t see you there.” Cosima said as she helped the girl gather her homework off the ground. Students briskly paced past them and paid no heed.
“Oh, it’s fine.” The girl replied. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled, frantically trying to gather her things. By the time Cosima had slid her glasses back onto her face the girl had strode away, presumably toward her first period class. Cosima could only make a few ringlets of goldenrod hair as the girl made her way down the hall.
Cosima gathered herself off the ground and straightened her glasses as she walked across the hall to Sr. Bellivue's room.
What a great start to my morning. She pictured the girl frenziedly rushing toward her class. The girl was probably going to be late because of her.
“¡Buenas días, clase! Saquen sus tarea y preparan para repasarlo.” Sr. Bellivue’s voice boomed with glee.
“Shit.” Cosima mumbled under her breath. She knew she had forgotten something important.
A few students who understood his esoteric pronouncement began shuffling things around on their desks while others reached into their backpacks. A majority ogled him icily.
“Your homework, students.”
The class roused in realization. A myriad of “Ohhh”s came from the mass. “Nobody can understand him” someone protested. “They don’t even talk like that in Spain” said a student flippantly as the class dug out their assignments. Many continued to voice their indignation.
Sr. Bellivue was already making his daily rounds to check for homework by the time Cosima had gotten to her seat near the back of the room. She quickly racked her brain to think of an excuse or find a friend to bail her out and give her their homework to copy. But she had remembered that this was one of the few periods she had without her friends. She scoped her neighbors for a merciful savior but they all glared at her liked a hapless delinquent. So much for student solidarity, she thought. She was just going to have to take the F for her homework this time.
Cosima noticed that it always seemed like things were smooth sailings for her peers when everything crashed and burned for her.
She had already committed to zoning out to Sr. Bellivue’s droning when in walked a taller than average blonde girl with perfectly groomed curls, clinquant chestnut eyes, and slender legs that seemed stretch a mile. Her curls bounced in synchronized tempo with the mellow flowing of her body movements.
“A note from Ms. Henlee.” She said with a vibrant grin as she sauntered up to Sr. Bellivue and handed him the note before turning to leave.
Just another overachieving track star. Cosima scoffed to herself when in a purely chimerical moment, the girl made swift eye contact with her. It was petrifying yet sent a chill vibration through her body. She quickly grabbed the pencil at the edge of her desk for distraction and by the time she looked up again the other girl was gone. The crashing realization came upon her that she was the very girl she had run into just a few minutes prior. There went the prospect of paying attention for the rest of the period.
Cosima smiled to herself as Sr. Bellivue entered the abyss of linguistic mundanity and began his daily drawl. Maybe she’d see the girl again if luck was on her side.