A/N: If you don't like the pairing, please don't read the fic. And don't flame. It's just not nice.
She Walks in Beauty
by Mallory
Haley always likes the first day of school, especially today; it's her last first day of high school. Yes, Haley has always liked the first day of school; it's just the days that come after it, the second, and the third, the fifteenth, and the eightieth, that she cannot stand.
And it's not because Haley's not good at school – unlike Nathan, who hates school because he has to work hard to manage a C average – it's because she is bored. Haley wants excitement. Haley wants intrigue. Damn it, Haley wants something. If only that something wasn't so ambiguous.
At the beginning of the day, first thing, they go to administrative homeroom. In Haley's there is a Jackson, a Jacobsen, Jake Jaglieski, two other Jameses and a Jahnke. Mrs. Smythe passes out their schedules.
Haley and Jake are in the same philosophy class, and Haley thinks that Jake must be one cool philosophical dude, so they slap hands. Haley says, "All right," and Jake says, "Rock on."
Philosophy is her first period, which means that her regular homeroom will be in – she checks her schedule – Mr. Stone's classroom. She thinks Lucas is in that class, too, or, at least, he signed up for it; she supposes she'll know in about half an hour and they can compare schedules then.
The rest of her schedule isn't much to talk about. Just Calculus, then AP European History, then Ethics, then Lunch, then her free, then AP Spanish, then English.
Haley wonders if her life had just suddenly became boring or if her life was always this boring, and it only just started to bother her?
Lucas is there in her philosophy class and they pick seats right next to each other (on her other side, Peyton sat down, and next to her, Jake). "Let me see your schedule," Haley says, holding out her hand.
Lucas passes his over.
"Damnit," says Haley. "We're only in two of the same classes. Ethics and Philosophy."
"What?" says Lucas.
"Yeah, 'cause you're not taking Calculus – you were always better at reading then you were at arithmetic – you're not taking AP European History, because you took that in the tenth grade when I took World History, we actually have lunch together – that's good – during my free you have French, and then – wait. It says here you have AP English sixth period. That's when I have Spanish. And then – wait. I must be in regular English."
She looks at Lucas in horror.
"I'm supposed to be in AP Lit," she says. "I love English. It's my favorite subject! I'm always in the honors classes for English. Ever since we were in the first grade! Do you remember that Lucas? Remember how they first put me in the dumb reading group and then they saw how well I could read and they moved me to the smart reading group? You remember that. I'm not meant for the dumb reading group. Not in elementary school. Not here. Not ever."
Lucas looks at his friend sympathetically. He does indeed remember when she was put in the 'dumb' reading group. He also remembers the temper tantrum she threw when she found out that she was in a lower level group.
He says, "Why don't you go talk to your guidance counselor?"
"Yeah," Haley says, "Yeah. I suppose – Yeah. That's a good idea."
She goes to the guidance counselor in between first and second periods. The guidance counselor is an older woman with salt and pepper hair named Mrs. Montgomery. When Haley complains to her, Mrs. Montgomery says, "I'm sorry, Haley. Sometimes there's just no way to accommodate all fifteen hundred kids in this school."
"But—"
"I looked over your schedule. You're in all the other classes you wanted."
"But I wanted—"
"I'm sorry, Haley, there's just nothing I can do. I think it's time for you to get back to class."
Haley officially hates the first day of school, and when seventh period rolls around, it is not without resentment that she approaches the door to her new English class.
She doesn't know anyone in her new English class – the product of spending six years with higher level students – except for Brooke Davis, who is leaning against a desk and batting her eyelashes at some boy Haley doesn't know.
The bell rings and everybody takes their seats. Haley, who had been standing in the doorway, is last to sit down and is left with no choice but to sit next to Brooke.
The teacher stands up from her desk. She is young and blonde and look like she is about to make the first-day-of-school-welcome-to-my-class speech.
"Good morning," she says. "Or rather, good afternoon. It's the last period of the day and I suppose you all I just raring to get out of here," She sounds rather perky. "But, and I'm telling you, right off the bat," her voice has gone all low and deadly, "this does not mean I will tolerate any kind of unruly behavior on your part. This is a serious class.
"Ok." Back to perky. "Now, that I've said that. Let me introduce myself. I'm Ms. Hart."
"Um, duh," Haley hears Brooke whisper. "It's written on the board." Haley looks up for the first time since she came in the classroom, and sure enough, it is written on the board.
"I'm 23 years old and this is my second year of teaching."
"We'll be able to walk all over her," Haley hears Brooke whisper again, probably to the boy sitting next to her, the one she had been batting her eyelashes at earlier.
Haley, however, doubts that they will be able to walk all over her. She is still hearing the echoes of that low and deadly voice.
"I'm originally from Kansas – "
"Corn-fed hick," Brooke whispers.
"But I went to Duke University, where I majored in English, and I liked North Carolina so much that I decided to stay."
That perky voice is really starting to grate on Haley's nerves.
"I'm very bad with names. So if you'll please at least stay in the seats you're in for the next couple of weeks, I'd really appreciate it."
"Yeah, right," Brooke whispers.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're going to get to know the person next to us."
She is talking to them like they were babies. And the person next to Haley is…
Brooke.
Brooke first turns to the guy on her left, the one she had been flirting with earlier, but obviously her flirting attempts hadn't worked, because he had turned to the other girl sitting next to him, so Brooke, with a slightly disgusted look on her face, turns to face Haley.
Haley likes Brooke's clothes. She's wearing a red halter top and blue jeans. Brooke always seems so put together. Haley wishes she was like that.
"Hey, Haley," Brooke says.
"Hi, Brooke," Haley says, looking at her hands. The nail polish is chipped. She glances over at Brooke's hands. They're perfect; just like everything else about her.
"So, let's just get some particulars and get this over with, 'kay?"
"Like what?"
"Well, how old are you?"
"Sixteen. I'll be seventeen in November."
"Oh. So you're a young seventeen. I'm a very old seventeen. I was born in January. My favorite color is pink. What's yours?"
"Green."
"Green's a good color. I always wanted green eyes. My eyes look kinda green when I wear green shirts, but not really."
"My eyes do that, too!"
"You, tutor, right? I cheerlead."
Haley nods. "Yeah, I knew that. I watch you sometimes. When the games get boring. I don't like sports that much, but I like watching the cheerleaders build pyramids and dance and stuff."
Brooke smiles at her and she smiles back.
"Um…What else, what else? I like mac and cheese," Brooke says.
"So do I," Haley grins.
A pause.
"I guess that's it," Brooke says, and turns away. Haley is a little sorry when she does.
"So," Lucas asks a little while later, when they are on their way home from school, "How was your first day? How was – " a dramatic pause – "regular English?"
"It was okay. You know who's in it?"
"Who?"
"Brooke. And I think you know – maybe you were right about me getting to know her. If I got to know her then I'd like her. Maybe that's right. Maybe I should. 'Cause we did have to talk today and we both like mac and cheese, you know?"
Haley knows she has a tendency to babble and at some point she can make herself shut up. She shut up.
"Well, that's good, I think, really good. I'd like the two of you to be friends, especially since I'm dating her."
"Yeah."
"Hey, are you working tonight?" Lucas asks, stopping and turning towards her.
"Yes."
"Are you going to stick around after your shift and eat dinner with us?"
"Yeah, probably. Unless it's chili. I can't stand chili. Why?"
Lucas hesitates for a moment and then says, "I'm bringing Brooke. Mom doesn't really know her, and I'd like her to, and you just said –"
"Forget about what I just said," Haley says suddenly. She feels sick at the thought of eating dinner with Brooke.
"But you just said –"
"And then I said forget about it."
And that settles the matter.
The next English class, true to the whisper Haley had heard the day before, Brooke sits in a completely different seat. Haley sits in the same one she sat in the day before. And she doesn't know why, but she regrets that she isn't sitting next to Brooke.
"Good afternoon, class." Ms. Hart smiles at everyone. "Now that the first day's over, it's time to get down to business. Our first unit is poetry."
Haley hears a few people groan. She thinks Brooke might be one of them.
"We'll being doing poetry for the next month and half until we move on to the next unit, the short story. You will have to read a poem each night and write a response to it. Then we'll go over it in class. In addition, you have this month and a half to choose a poem and creatively respond to it. You may write another poem, rewrite the poem, illustrate it, or anything else that you can think of to creatively respond to it. Then you will have to write a one and a half or two page paper describing how your response fits the poem."
Haley thinks she now hears everyone in the class groan.
"You may," Ms. Hart goes on, "do this in partners."
Haley doesn't like doing things in partners, so she decides that, if someone does ask her, she will say no.
They spend the rest of the class going over things like imagery and rhyme scheme and imperfect rhymes, the difference between a sonnet and a villanelle. Not that Haley doesn't know what all these were all ready – she had been in advanced English classes up to this point.
At the end of class, Haley gathers up her things and is ready to go. She is walking out the door when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns around.
"Hey, Haley," Brooke says. "Do you want to work on the project together?"
"Sure," Haley says.
