Chapter I - Classies
DandranePOV
As I tried to explain how to pronounce my name for the millionth time the whole class was hunching over their desks and narrowing their eyes at the board as if it would help them gain understanding of what was written on it. "Dan," I said, very slowly, "drane." Gesturing to my name for every syllable. "Dandrane."
They all tilted their heads and rested them on their shoulders. Damn, these people are stupid. I smacked my face, a show of my frustration, but not a sign of giving up. I never give up.
"Okay!" the teacher, Mr Glowits, said with a hand on my shoulder. "Let's not steal any more of the precious time we have. Ten minutes have already gone by with explaining your name. Please, seat yourselves." He looked at me, who was yet to move as the other students did. "That includes you too, Miss…" He cut himself off, picked up a paper from his desk and pushed his glasses up his nose bridge. Frowning, he squinted his small eyes and his chin was suddenly trying to reach the floor. "H-Ha-" he stuttered, "Hadi-Had-Uh… How do you pronounce this?"
I rolled my eyes, gave an almighty sigh, and pointed at my name. "Well, you begin with the H…"
Daaamn this shit is boring.
I gave the headboard my coldest glare.
Daaamn I hate Spanish.
I looked around the classroom.
Daaamn these people are ugly.
"Daaaamn this shit is boring," I exclaimed loudly, interrupting Mrs Something, didn't care to remember her name. Her eyes darted up from the book she had just been reading aloud from, narrowing at me. Well, narrowing as much as they could, considering the Asian type to them.
"Perdón?" she asked.
"Never mind," I said flatly, "See you tomorrow." I left the classroom and continuing down the hall, I wondered what to do. I looked to the window. Not a chance in heeell was I staying inside. The suffocating air of the corridors was tainted with the lingering odours of ordinary, filthy commoners.
Daaamn this is pissing me off.
I walked out of the building, putting my headphones on and searched for a window low enough to work as a mirror. When I finally found one in this god-forsaken school and started practicing, the bell rung, screeching right through my music.
Fanfuckingtastic. Let's go find the midget.
ZenaPOV
I looked about the still empty classroom, unable to stop squirming in my chair. After having met the teacher, Miss Marielle Veronique, my senses had only gotten edgier. Every distant sound of chatter or laughter made me rise from my chair, using the footrest of it as my ground. Resembling a five year old as always, by the disappointed glint in Miss Veronique's eyes with which she returned to her papers.
Five minutes of the ticking clock and the maddening, buzzing sound of the fluorescent lights later, the chit-chatty voices and footsteps echoed into this classroom. I flew up on the footrest again. Seconds passed, and the first pair of backpacked, pencil-armed students entered, followed by a whole wave of them.
So many people!
I flashed them a perky, involuntary smile and waved.
"Hi new classies!" I beamed loudly.
For a mere second, an awkward silence overtook all voices and actions. The students – brunettes, blondes, pink-wearing, blue-wearing – stared at me, their brand-new classmate imported from Sweden, with several feelings of shock, confusion, reproach, excitement and most of all curiosity. As always. Something among them stirred then, and the students remembered their goal which they had entered the classroom with. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they stalked over to their seats, a low murmur emitting the dispersing herd.
"I´m Zena!" I unperturbedly continued, not awaiting Miss Veronique to speak for me. "You pronounce it with ee or e, doesn´t matter! I´m from Iran, but I was born in Finland, and lived in Sweden, and finally moved to the States. Been here for less than forty hours with my BFF!
"Nice to meet y'all!" I finished with a smile that had widened for each word, just as mock incredulity grew among all others. I watched them eagerly behind me, and they watched me. No response was made for a second, and that was enough for me to pipe up again. "Oooh, I´m sorry, should I have said that in French?" Several pairs and lone eyebrows shooting up. "Je suis Zena, on le prononcer avec ee ou e-"
"That"- Miss Veronique cut in with a breathy voice –"is quite enough. Thank you." She shared the briefest, almost unnoticeable sympathy with the baffled students, before regaining control in her posture. "Good day, everyone. Now that our new student has introduced herself, class may begin… Maintenant!"
Doing as told Miss Veronique took the attendance, my classies could not seem to tear their eyes away from me. I felt them on my back, my cheeks, my nose, my sadly swelled up hair from a recent, panicked shower caused by a baby on the plane barfing over me. I smiled to as many as I could, making most of them indiscreetly turn away, when I noticed an awful emptiness conquering Miss Veronique's desk.
"I'm sorry", I interrupted innocently, leaning across the desk on my forearm, pointing with my free hand. "But I couldn't help but notice that you have no pencil sharpener." At her bewildered face, I explained matter-of-factly, "I need a pencil sharpener." There was that overly amusing silence taking over the classroom again. But Miss Veronique was quicker than she had been before.
"Then you must bring your own, Miss…"
"Esfandiari." My eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, not liking what I sensed. "Had you actually been a teacher considerate of her students, or her résumé, you would have inquired my surname fifteen minutes ago. When we met. When you should have at least checked my name instead of sighing about the dreariness in correcting the tests of what could be our future senators.
"Now, does anyone else have a pencil sharpener? I'm sooo sorry for the delay I've caused the lesson, but I simply cannot survive it without a pencil sharpener…"
Skipping down the hall alone – for some reason, my fellow classies had evacuated the classroom in a matter of seconds when the bell had rung, just like the lesson before – I suddenly stopped, having reached a crossroad. There was a scarce amount of students, wandering about with and without books and company, in all different directions. I looked ahead, where another turn quickly followed, then to my left, where some tall jocks were heading my way, and lastly, to my right. This road continued for a while, and I sniffed the air delicately.
Smiling broadly, I lifted my right leg and bounced off the left one, almost hopping my way down the right corridor. I could hear incredulous murmurs and barks of laughter behind me, and knew it was only a matter of time now.
"Hey, girly", said a way too arrogant tone to my left. Giving the towering teenager a huge smile, I kept my pace.
"Hello!" From the corner of my eye, I noted how he seemed to be unable to come up with something to say. And so he did the only thing he could – cast his jock-minions a cunning sneer to seem confident.
"So, girly", he repeated in that tiring tone. "What's your name?"
"Tittie!"
Choking on what seemed to have been his saliva, the jock fell behind for a second, giving me the satisfaction of a succeeded plan. "I- I'm sorry – what?" he squeezed forth in between his coughs.
"Zena!" I chirped.
He frowned. "Didn't you just say-"
"Zena?" I finished, crinkling my nose and grinning with my mouth wide open. Taken aback, the jock had finally realized his mistake and retreated to known territory. Without. Another. Word. Then, a brilliant thought hit me. "Oh, hey, jock-schmock!" I shouted, turning around to the addressed one. He looked back with resentment, his friends chuckling at me. "Where's the cafeteria?"
"Further down the hall", he told me after a lot of inner debate. I smiled my thanks, and gleefully continued on my way. Two minutes later I had finally found my already favorite part of the school. The cafeteria.
In awe I walked inside where the tables were already crowded by teens eating and babbling away in ignorant bliss. Seeing some girls from my previous class glancing at me, I managed to catch some of their treacherous words.
"They're even weirder than the Cullens…" a brunette, Lisa, said, joining the others in their agitating snickers.
Still wearing my five year old like grin though, I went to buy me some food. Once done, I surveyed my situation – where to sit. Close to the centre of the room I spotted Dandrane, standing behind an empty chair by the jocks table and making exasperated gestures with her hands, as if though she was trying to explain something. And, judging by the looks on all of their faces, they were not following.
"But…" I whined for myself, "Where is my clique?" My dark brows furrowed as the corners of my mouth dropped. "Screw it," I said, pulling myself together, "I´ll create my own clique. Dandrane!"
Dandrane looked up and once she caught sight of me quickly gathered her things and gave the others an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she hurriedly strutted my way, swaying her hips enough to turn heads. Right, left, right, left, right…
"Why did you not wait for me?" I inquired, looking up, since I was by far the shortest one in our duet.
DandranePOV
She had the most adorable looking sad facial expression I had seen in a long time. Her big doe eyes glistened with tears in the light coming from the sun outside and the fantastically irritating lights of the cafeteria. She was pouting with her bottom lip that was slightly shaking, while the upper one was slightly sucked in. She was looking up, so her chin was tucked out a bit further than usual.
"You disgust me," I said, looking at Zena. She blinked at me, and then turned her head down in shame. I rolled my eyes, "Why do you keep faking it? When you knooow I always get it when you do?"
"Shut up. Anyway! D'you wanna know what I just heard from a bunch of babbling buffoons?"
Dandrane gave away a snort now. "Whatever did you hear, oh eavesdropping Gamgee?"
She paused, failing to put in the dramatic effect she desired. "We're weirder than the Cullens!" I frowned, looking at Zena, who grinned at me.
"Who the hell are the Cullens?"
Zena kept fantasizing about who these notorious Cullens could be throughout our social studies lesson and gym class. Her constant babbling faded into a shrill beeping noise in the background as I dragged her along the running track. We were supposed to be warming up. Which failed, epically, as Zena kept knocking down all the runners with her limbs flying all over the place.
I came to an abrupt stop and soon felt a face, boobs and legs crash into me, almost knocking me over. Turning around, I saw Zena. Babbling. On her now sore butt, which she was absentmindedly rubbing.
"…that really hurt, by the way, and I still wonder if the Cullens are good at gym…"
"Will it ever cease?" I sighed, pulling her up.
"I hope I'll get to meet them in the future, maybe we'll turn out to be great friends, do you think they'll like me? I hope they will, and maybe there's even someone short among them, like me! I wonder what he or she would be like, I hope that person has a great sense for fashion…" The rest was muffled behind the grip of my cold hands.
"Shut up, for fuck's sake!"
"Mm mhmm hmm, mmhmhmmh! Mmhhh, mm!"
"… Miss Hadziegric?" the gruff voice of our gym teacher suddenly blurted out. "… And Miss Esfandiari. What exactly is going on here?"
"Mm-"
"We", I cut in, not removing my hands from that terrorising machinery of speech, "were just about to go fetch some water. Right, babe?" I gave Zena a pointed look, who stared at me, frowning like she did not agree at all.
"M-"
"And later we'llwatch Phantom of the Opera with a bunch of junk food that'll compensate for all the highly valuable calories which we lose during your most efficient exercises, Mister White." I flashed him a persuasive smile, squeezing Zena's cheeks a bit too hard when I felt her lips parting. She wailed noisily, but Mr White had already gotten enough and walked away to reprimand some of the girls simply lying scattered along the track like talkative corpses. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak out to the changing rooms without causing a bigger scene.
We did not get further than to the hall though, partly because Zena continuously fell behind, and then because, well, someone bumped into me. Really hard.
"Ow!" a noisy, girly voice exclaimed, and I looked a bit up to see a girl with her hair in a tight, black ponytail. Water dripped from a bottle in her hand, which had also managed to stain her too small white tee, and the all too familiar stuck-up, bitchily confused frown was on her face.
"Excuse me, could you like, watch where you're going?" she asked shrilly.
I eyed her, head to toe. "You're the one who bumped into me, but whatever…" I moved past her, noting Zena trying to do the ninja-walk along the wall, but a wet hand flew to my shoulder, gripping it. I stopped dead in my tracks. Slowly, I looked down at one of my favorite Christian Audigier tees, to see that a filthy commoner's hand had stained it with not only water, but what I realized was sweat mixed with make-up from her forehead.
I turned around with a glare that would hopefully set her ablaze. It did not.
"You have to apologize…?" she said almost questioningly. I raised a brow. "Apologize, you know, to say you're sorry about something…?"
Oh, I'll give you something to say you're sorry about. "Dry-cleaning."
She started in shock, and then laughed mockingly, pissing me off even more. "Excuse me?"
"Is there any other advanced phrase in your vocabulary than 'excuse me'?"
She stared at me for a second and then opened her stupid mouth again. She looks like a goldfish, I mused. "I-I'm sorry?"
"I will accept your apology, once my shirt is clean on your expense. Of course." I smiled brightly, probably annoying her much more than I had intended.
"Why would I do that when you're the one who bumped into me?"
I felt my face heat up, and strained to keep my voice composed. It wasn't helping that I was currently having my period, which equals mood swings. "Correction: You bumped into me."
"You stand corrected," Zena suddenly implied, joining us. "Literally."
"I beg to differ!" Miss Long Legs fired back. "Who are you anyway? A leprechaun off duty?"
Zena's mouth fell open, and even I was taken aback. Impressive. "I applaud you," I said irritably, yet nodding my approval, "Though nobody is allowed to call her by her true name but me, I have to admit, that was a nice line."
"Whatever."
"Now," I reached my hand out toward her, my fingertips barely twitching with restraint anger, "May I please have the money for the dry-cleaning?"
"No."
"That is a shame, I will have to take them by force if you don't cooperate," I looked at her suggestively.
"You should listen to her," Zena nodded as she stood on her tip-toes.
"Shut up, midget!"
Oh, that's it.
I shoved her shoulders, hard. She staggered backwards with a gasp. Oh please.
"Woo-kay now, hold on a se-" Zena tried, but a fist had already struck my solar plexus. "Or you could just tear each other to pieces, yeah that's just great, TEACHEEER!"
After catching my breath I made for a counter attack. I brought my right hand back and hit her with an uppercut in her chin. Her head tilted back violently and she hit the back of her head on the wall. I took the opportunity to grab her neck and knee her stomach once. She folded over in coughs, and I was just about to kick her to the ground when a hand grabbed my leg.
The hand twisted, my body following, and then started dragging me backwards along with it toward the exit. I shouted to let me go, not escaping the opportunity to cuss like a sailor, and struggled violently as I was still only standing on one leg. Or more like jumping on it.
"Nniargh! Zena, help!" I yelled, but she was just standing there, gawking at my kidnapper as if though he sparkled. The last thing I saw before the door shut in front of me was the teacher, pulling Miss Long Legs away. I could feel the rain in my face and on my body and I growled, trying to turn around while still hopping along with the mystery hand. I was screaming and cursing at whoever it was the whole time.
"Who the hell do you think you are, interrupting a fight between women like that? Huh? You think you're sooo cool, don't you? Like you saved me, or some shit? Not likely! I was doing just fine before you came and ruined it all. How am I going to get her to pay for the dry-cleaning now?"
I was cut off by the sudden movement of my captor - he, and I knew it was a he from the strength of this guy - had let go of my leg and turned me around so I was facing him. Or facing his torso, was more like it, this man was tall. I looked up and really wished I hadn't. I wished I was back in there being 'taken care of' at the principals office. It felt like I had been punched in my solar plexus again because the dude was breathtaking.
His hair was a menacing, chocolate mess, like he had been running his fingers through it too much. His hairline was almost straight, he had sharp eyebrows and a small layer of stubble across his cheeks and jaw. His eyes were placed kind of deep into his rectangular face and they were a colour of golden honey liquid. His nose was straight and he had beautiful cheekbones and his jaw was too delicious looking for his own good, I wanted to nibble on it so bad… And he had that totally fuck awesome sexy-ass dimple in his chin. And his lips were so kissable, they were full and luscious and just perfectly sculptured, he was the most ravishing man I had ever seen. And I had only seen his face. Yet.
As my eyes adjusted to his handsome face I realized what situation I was in – my eyes widened and I shuddered as I ripped my shirt off of me.
"Mja-ah-aah," I yelped shakily, "I'm filthy! Disgusting! Ew! Ugh!" I started pacing and jumping around as I made exasperated gestures with my hands. I was feeling atrociously dirty and I had to make a visit to the shower, quickly. While I was screaming complaints and shuddering and feeling dirty I heard the man talking to himself.
"What to do," he muttered, and my mind noted briefly the British accent, which added more to his sexiness, if possible, "God? Help?" He waited. "Oh, right – I'm cursed, you won't help me. Uh…"
I was still pacing.
"Excuse me? Are you alright?" he asked me hesitantly. I stopped and looked at him, my eye twitching. Oh my god, I think I'm losing my sanity.
"Do not. Use that phrase ever again."
He looked confused as he said, "I´m sorry?"
"No, not that either." I resumed my pacing.
"Can I help you?"
I looked at him, desperate and utterly annoyed at myself. "Take me home so I can tear off these clothes and take a shower. Fast." I think I'm gonna cry.
"Okay…" He turned around and started walking.
"Hey, where are you going?" Why did I just ask that?
"To take you home." He turned around, "Or is that not what you asked me to do?" I stared at him, dumbfounded, but followed him nonetheless. I walked a few steps behind, staring at his black leather covered back and wondered what it would look like without anything covering it. I didn't notice the black MV-Augusta F4CC until he was shoving a helmet in my face.
"I can't ride that," I told him seriously but he just rolled his eyes at me and tried handing me the helmet again.
"And why is that?" he asked, "If you're scared you don't have to be, it's not that dangerous as long as you ride with me. I promise," he assured me with a wink. If I had not been occupied with my disgustingness I would have been either swooning over him or jumping him. Instead, I glared at him.
"No, I'm not scared. I have my own damned bike at home: so don't give me that bullshit. I can't ride it because if I do I'll have to wrap my arms around you as you drive and then you'll get dirty, as well as your bike because stupid me sat on it and then you'll have to wash the bike, take a shower and change and wash your clothes."
We stared at each other for a few moments, he was seemingly staring due to the fact that he didn't know if I was serious or not, and if I was he didn't know how serious. Lucky him for not knowing. Yet.
"That's ridiculous," he snorted, "I won't get dirty from you touching me," he said matter-of-factly as a smile graced his full lips.
"Yes, you will, because that bitch touched me with her disgusting sweat and make-up covered hands, which leads to my conclusion that I. Am. Dirty. And I am not putting my butt on that thing. I will walk," and so, I turned to start walking but lets just say that it turned out to be harder than I thought. Suddenly my feet were no longer making contact with the ground and I was being carried, princess style, to the bike.
"What the-!" I had now been placed on the monster machine and a helmet had been placed in an awkward position on top of my head as mister hottie was taking a seat in front of me.
"Shut up, I will drive you and you are going to thank me when we get there."
Brrrooom!
In panic, I wrapped my arms around his waist but before we were out of the parking lot he stopped and hesitantly turned his head around and asked, "Where do you live?"
A/N: Hello dear classies! Tina the Terrorist here together with Element Of Art. We salute you.
In case you were wondering how to pronounce the notorious last name of Dandrane: Ha-dji-e-gr-itch.
Over and out.
