Okay...how to start? I've written my first and only fic a couple of years ago and thought I'd give it another try. English is not my native language, so I apologize for all the mistakes I might have included unknowingly - and for those I was just too dumb to detect ;-)
Sadly enough I don't own Skins, I just borrowed the characters.
Chapter 1
She took one last deep breath to steady herself before she opened the door and walked briskly inside, ignoring the stares of the about thirty students who followed her every move until she settled into an unoccupied seat at the far side of the course room, her schedule and floor map still tightly clutched in her hand. Fucking hell, another "first day" at university and she hated every part of it – all eyes on her, scrutinizing the newcomer who'd been stupid enough to switch universities right after her freshman year and who was obviously unable to navigate successfully through the maze of different buildings and corridors because she had managed to be late for her very first course. Great. The professor - sturdy, probably in his late fifties with a brown corduroy suit that wouldn't quite fit to his blue-and-white-striped neck-tie - stopped his lecture mid-sentence and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "I'm so glad you could arrange to attend my course after all, Miss....?"
She sighed inwardly and cleared her throat. "Campbell."
"Miss Campbell, I see." He scanned the attendance list which was lying on his desk with a furrowed brow, stroking his beard absent-mindedly. "Naomi Campbell, I take it?" She nodded curtly while a ripple of laughter ran through the class, a reaction she'd got used to over the years. Two girls in the row in front of her stuck their heads together and snickered. "Naomi Campbell......her mother's wishful thinking, I bet. And look what she got instead!" the redhead whispered loud enough for her to overhear, which gained her another chuckle from her neighbor. Stupid cow.
"What did you say?" The two girls at the desk in front of her had turned in unison, staring at her accusingly. The redhead's eyes flashed angrily at her, daring her to repeat the words she'd obviously mumbled under her breath without realizing it. She held her gaze, her piercing blue eyes boring into the redhead's brown ones. "You heard me the first time." she stated calmly before she focused on the professor's explanations on the blackboard instead, dismissing the girl silently.
"Who do you think you're talking to, bitch?" the girl hissed angrily, her eyes sparkling with fury, her body tensed as if she was about to leap from her seat any second now to take a punch at the peroxide blonde with the shoulder-length hair who'd dared to insult her.
"Miss Fitch, I take it you would like to share your thoughts with us and tell us about Ronald Reagan's political influence on the east-west-conflict in the early 1980s?" The professor glared at her from across the room, awaiting her response. The red-headed girl turned towards the professor again, now visibly fuming. "Sorry", she murmured without offering any further comment.
Great, so much for a good start – this time it had taken her less than five minutes to get into a quarrel with one of her fellow students, that had to be her fucking record so far. She couldn't grasp the reason why she wouldn't fit in wherever she went, which of her characteristics made her stand out from the others and forced her to fill the role of the outsider. Okay, scratch that. Of course she knew it didn't really help that she didn't care too much about "social networking". She was neither interested in idle small talk while pretending not to be bored as hell nor in getting too attached to one person only to let herself be disappointed shortly afterwards. Been there, done that. Besides that, she wasn't into that "You're my best friend and I'm telling you all my secrets"-kind of crap, at least not since she'd left kindergarten. That didn't mean that she was a total loner, she just preferred casual friendships instead – people she could have fun with, often hardly more than acquaintances whom she could keep at a safe emotional distance at all times and who wouldn't try to invade her privacy which she'd declared her inner sanctum ever since. 'My emotional retard' her boyfriend had always teased her with a smile, nonetheless only half-joking. Right. Make that an ex-boyfriend now.
"Miss Campbell, would you be so kind and help Miss Fitch out on this topic?"
Naomi ignored the redhead's gleeful snicker and replied in an almost bored voice. "By the early 1980s, the USSR had built up a military arsenal and army surpassing that of the United States. Ronald Reagan began massively building up the United States military not long after taking office. This led to the largest peacetime defense buildup in United States history." She cast a thin smile at the scowling redhead who'd turned towards her again and continued. "After Reagan's military buildup, the Soviet Union did not respond by further building its military because the enormous military expenses, along with inefficient planned manufacturing and collectivized agriculture, were already a heavy burden for the Soviet economy."
The professor nodded while he struggled to hide his surprise about her accurate response. "Very well, thanks, Miss Campbell. Now let's have a closer look at the consequences of this conflict for the Soviet population." Naomi leaned back in her seat, clearly satisfied. Take that, bitch. Politics had always been her strong point. She stole another glance at her – a perfectly mussed up "just out of bed"-hairdo which must have taken her an eternity to create, heavily applied make-up, lilac high heels, black mesh tights, a skirt so short that it left little to the imagination and a matching cleavage. Why not just add a "Fuck me!"-sign to her forehead? Although dressed like that it wouldn't really be necessary. Didn't they have a rule against dressing up like that at university or something? Disgusting.
As the lesson had finally drawn to an end, she gathered her textbooks, her schedule and the floor map in her arms, slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the exit. Suddenly someone bumped into her shoulder from behind, making her stumble and sending her gatherings flying to the floor. "What the f...."
"Would you fucking get out of my way instead of blocking the whole entrance, bitch? God!" the redhead shouted, glowering at her as if Naomi had barged against her instead. With that, she turned on her heel, gave her pen a final kick and stomped off before Naomi could even form an appropriate reply in her mind.
"Wait up, Katie!" the girl who had sat next to the redhead called after her and shot Naomi a last scornful look before she left.
So Katie fucking Fitch it was. It's obviously no coincidence that "Fitch" rhymes perfectly well with "bitch", Naomi thought as she gathered her belongings which still lay scattered on the floor. But two can play this game, rest assured.
..........................................
Naomi turned off the ignition, got out of her car, a battered red Toyota Corolla which she'd squeezed into the last available parking space right in front of the entrance, and squinted into the sun. Lucky on this one. She pushed through the doors and headed straight up the stairs, a take-away coffee clutched in her hand, now merely lukewarm. She was glad she'd used her free period yesterday to get familiar with the premises so she wouldn't feel like a total idiot because she had to ask for the way to the toilets or something.
Once she'd reached the first floor, she turned left towards the rows of lockers, her gaze immediately drawn to the cutting of a magazine that had been pinned on hers. "Naomi Campbell – voted for 'Most Arrogant Person of the Past Decade'" it read in bold letters. Very original. What is this, kindergarten? She opened her locker, retrieved her textbooks and slammed it shut. She crumpled the cutting in a tight ball, suddenly aware of two girls chuckling in the far corner of the corridor.
That fucking redhead Fitch again, of course. Although she looked oddly different today – her brightly red hair which had been expertly tousled yesterday was now combed straight with a slightly slanting fringe, besides that she was wearing a gray cardigan over a flowery-shirt, a dark-blue skirt that reached down to her knees and black ballerina-shoes which were reasonably flat. What was wrong with this girl? She was either suffering from some kind of severe personality disorder or desperately trying to impress one of her professors by switching from slut-style into full cutie-pie-mode. Probably a female professor who would barely be tricked by her usual tacky appearance and "Come on and have a good look at my tits"-approach. Sorry, Missy, I will so rain on your parade.
Thanks for reading, I'd be more than happy about your feedback!
