A/N: It's been so long since I've written something on FF that it feels almost weird now. I'm used to writing things on Tumblr now, truth be told. But, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Emily, I'm blonde, and I draw 13's on my right hand. I'm currently on spring break, and since I'm outside on the beach and have nothing to do, since it's too cold to get in the water, I figured I'd work on this, especially since I was stricken with the idea after listening to, of all things—Starlight, by Taylor Swift. This is an AU story; there's your warning. If you have any questions, leave them in the pretty little review I know you're going to leave me after. Enjoy!
Emily Fields and I are polar opposites of each other, despite what anyone may say.
Emily is one of those girls that can stay naturally tan year round, no sun necessary; I have to spend hours out under the baking sun in order to just begin on getting rid of the luminous white glow on my own skin. Emily could get run over by a transfer truck and still have a radiance equivalent to the sun's; even after much time spent on doing my hair and makeup, I look like an extra who walked off the set of The Walking Dead. Emily thinks something is a bad idea? Easy; I think it's a perfectly good idea and that nothing bad could ever possibly derive from it. Emily does something she's never done before and is absolutely perfect at it; it always takes me several rounds of trial and error before I can get it ideal. Emily says one thing, I do another.
I'm sure that in Emily's eyes, all of those comparisons are either reversed or have a different spin on them. Of course they would; we are on totally different sides of the spectrum. However, there's one comparison in the entire sea of them that we can both agree on.
Emily and Toby Cavanaugh are quite the dynamic duo, and Toby and I are absolute mortal enemies.
It's always been that way. Toby and I literally hate each other with a passion that burns so bright, it could blind someone. All other feuds in history can't even hold a candle to the immense hatred we have for each other. Emily, however, thinks Toby is some kind of saint. The two of them had been fairly good friends for some time now; ever since they were assigned as each other's lab partner, they formed a bond that was pretty much unbreakable. That didn't stop me from hating him any.
Toby and I were in the sixth grade when we realized that we'd be spending all of our time spitting in the direction of the other and using their name as the most offending curse word in the book. We're both perfectionists, so we want something done how it's pictured in our mind and no other way. The two of us were partners in something—pretty sure it was English, and we both had different versions of how our project should be done. Toby was the one who messed everything up, of course, and I remember throwing my pencil down and yelling at him. The yelling began to escalate from both sides of the battle field. Everything ended up with Toby and I in a very…promising position, ready to rip each other's vocal cords out. We've hated each other ever since.
Emily thinks our little feud is a bit outlived and overrated; she thinks the two of us should just wave our white flags and write our own version of the Treaty of Versailles. I laugh in her face. Toby and I will die enemies; I'm even requesting my headstone to say 'Suck it, Cavanaugh.'
Maybe I'm exaggerating on the last bit, but I wouldn't put it past us. The amount of hatred we have for each other is that high.
So when I have to walk right past the devil himself, I make a humongous deal about it. When I pass by him, I make sure to bump into his shoulder, shooting him a death glare when his head whips up to see who it is. Our eyes connect for a nanosecond, before I snarl and turn back around. Emily rolls her eyes, her fingers wrapping themselves around my arm and yanking me forward.
"What the hell was that, Spence?" Emily hisses.
"When you see an opportunity, you take it," I explain, as we turn and make our way towards the ladies room, where Hanna and Aria are surely awaiting us. Emily, however, shakes her head in disapproval.
"I think that you're just trying to pick a fight with him. I told you, he's just as ready for this…petty disagreement to be over as I am," she explains, picking and choosing her words carefully when describing the kind of fight. Although, I'd have to say that calling it a petty disagreement is an understatement. It's more like World War III.
"Em, this little petty disagreement doesn't really involve you; and besides, I highly doubt Toby Cavanaugh is over this. Just last week, he almost ran me over. And he could see me clear as day," I protest. I wasn't making it up; I was still somewhat emotionally traumatized by that. Emily doesn't say anything; instead she holds the door to the girl's room open and lets me go in front of her.
"Still doesn't change the fact that some of us want this to be over," Emily mumbles under her breath. I pretend as though I don't hear her little comment, and walk happily into the confinements of the bathroom. Hanna and Aria are sure enough inside, waiting for the two of us. It seems as though Hanna's repainting her nails, and Aria's giving her a look that I'm sure matches my confused one.
Aria looks up and sees the two of us, smiling happily. "Oh, hey guys." Hanna's response is different.
"About time you two got here." Aria nudges her sharply with her elbow, giving her a glare. Hanna shrugs. "What? We've been in here for fifteen minutes; I've had time to paint my nails a lovely shade of Tangerine Tango," she says, flashing her hands in front of us. The painfully bright orange nail polish gleams back up at us, and Emily and I nod out of habit. Better to just agree with Hanna than to try and argue.
"Sorry about that, Spencer had to go out of our way and make sure that Toby was aware of her presence and that their dispute is very much alive," Emily says, shooting a glare over in my direction. Aria gives me a look similar to the one she just gave Hanna, and Hanna rolls her eyes.
"Dear god, are you two still on that 'I-hate-Spencer-I-hate-Toby-let's-make-the-other-s uffer-along-with-the-rest-of-Rosewood-in-the-proce ss' business?" Hanna grumbles. "Get in a cage and fight to the death, make out, do something productive with all that hatred. I hear angry sex is the best kind," she says flirtatiously, winking in my direction.
"Oh, god, I think I'm gonna be sick," I say, putting my hand over my mouth as I try to erase the image of myself having sex with Toby Cavanaugh, of all people.
"Okay, you two, enough," Aria regulates, stepping up before Hanna plants any more demon visions in my mind or I wring her throat because of it. "Spence, are you still covering for me this afternoon?" she asks, and I give her a little salute.
Aria has, oddly enough, managed to sustain a rather stable relationship with none other than good old Ezra Fitz. Personally, I think she's barking mad to keep on going full throttle, especially with her parents in the know about it and despising the idea, but it's her relationship. Plus, she and Ezra make a cute couple, so I guess it all works out in the end. She smiles. "Thanks, you're a life saver. And here," she says, rummaging in her life-size bag and pulling out a twenty, shoving it down into my hand. "For being my alibi. I figured you might like it better if you were holed up with McDreamy and McSteamy."
"This is why you're my best friend," I say, giving her a hug. "Hope you two have fun tonight."
"Tonight? Where are you two lovebirds going?" Hanna asks, rejoining the world after admiring her freshly done manicure.
"If you were listening earlier, you would know," Aria says, as though she's talking to a five year old. "Ezra and I are going out to eat at this really fancy restaurant I've been itching to go eat at for quite some time."
"That's awe-" the bell cuts Hanna off loudly, and rather annoyingly, as well. "Well, we're off to another hour of torture, this time in the form of Chemistry," she groans, pushing her way towards the door. "See you guys at lunch?"
We all nod, making our way out of the girl's room. Lurking in the corners, waiting on who has to be Emily, stands Toby Cavanaugh. His eyes settle on me, his face turning up in a distasteful snarl. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hanna mouth what looks a whole lot like 'angry sex' with an extremely happy look on her face. She then flounces off in the direction of her Chemistry class.
"Hey Emily," Toby says, smiling when he sees her. I scoff, rolling my eyes at the sound of his voice. He then shoots me an ugly look, his eyes blue slits. "You."
"It," I respond, crossing my arms over my chest as I refer to him in the best way I can without getting myself into any sort of trouble. "Why are you here?"
"Em and I have French together. The real question, I think, is why are you here?"
"Am I not allowed to do as I please?"
"This isn't Hastings world, so no, I guess not."
"Whatever."
"Whatever!"
"I hate you."
"Hate you more," Toby says sourly, before Emily forces his arm to link with hers and drags him off in the direction of their French class. I toss my hair over my shoulder, making my way towards one of the trillion AP classes I decided would be a good idea on taking.
. . .
Study hall is the one time during the day that I don't feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can sit down and take a second to breathe, before making my load a little less heavy. Work on a paper, study for some big test, I manage to make all of my study halls unlike most kids in here. They spend their time gossiping in the far corners of the room about the rumors that they listen to and furthermore, believe, or throwing those annoying little paper balls at each other. It makes me feel like we've downgraded back to the third grade.
I pull my laptop out of my bag; it seems like a good idea to check up on the courses Hollis offers and see what's been added to the list. I was expecting to have to finish a paper, but all things happen for a reason. I guess Mr. Garland doesn't want that paper as soon as he did last week. Sighing, I open it and my home screen pulls up.
The bookmarked page I have, dedicated to the list of courses offered on the Hollis website, gets pulled up, and I stare at it blindly. It's the same things, except this time, the words are blurred. This past week has absolutely dragged, no wonder I'm about to be reduced to tears by a simple list of college courses. Usually I find some sort of comfort in looking at lists of college courses; it reminds me that there's a future outside of little old Rosewood and all of the bullshit that accompanies it.
There's something up in the tabs of the browser; some chat room that Hanna must have been on when she had her greedy little paws on my laptop. That's what Hanna likes to do when she gets a hold of any of our computers. She gets on these insane chat rooms and talks to strangers on our laptops because apparently, the Internet at her house 'is so horrific, it makes those old TVs that have nothing but static on them look like they're crystal clear'. I highly doubt an old TV has anything to do with Internet service, but it's Hanna.
I click on the chat room tab by accident, instead of the little 'x' by the tab to close out of it. Hanna's sure enough, signed onto some chat room, and I can see her stupid username glowing in a corner of the screen. My guess is that Aria created the name for her, because it's nothing that Hanna would ever be caught going by. 'Shopaholic_Grll1105' is illuminated in an all-too cheerful bubblegum pink, flashing underneath one other name on the list. Hanna has chat room buddies.
I'm wondering what possessed her when she even got the idea to get on one of these chat rooms, because I'm pretty sure that goes against the guidebook on how to be Hanna Marin. I sigh, figuring that it's safer to go ahead and close out before Shopaholic_Grll1105 kills me with her Tangerine Tango-manicured hands.
That is, before the other person in the room sends a message, making its presence known with a faint ding. I squint my eyes in order to read the message. "Are you from Rosewood?" is the question asked by someone that's going by without a name. They're just a guest. There's a bunch of warning signs that are flashing in front of me but my fingers have a brain of their own.
Yes, why?
The reply is almost instantaneous.
Well, that's what it says under your info. And I'm from Rosewood too, so talking to a familiar face never hurts. Info? Like information? You can have something with your information on these chat rooms? Dear god, what else am I going to learn about Hanna; does she secretly run some kind of support group for the mentally insane as well?
I poise my fingers over the keyboard, thinking about what I should say. There's barely five minutes left in study hall, and then it's off to lunch. I shake my head, quickly typing in a response. It'd be nice to talk to a somewhat familiar face too. Email me; I won't be able to get on after this. I hit enter after typing in the private email I use for non-school related things, and then close out of the chat room.
God, what has Hanna started?
Well, this is the end of the first chapter. Like I said, leave a pretty little review or Hanna will come in your room while you're asleep and paint your nails Tangerine Tango. And hack your laptop and get on random chat rooms. ;) If you have questions, leave them in the review, PM me, or message me on Tumblr! xo