Disclaimer: Yes, I do own CSI, but just for the record, let's pretend that I don't and maybe this way I can keep out of jail.
A/N: My first fanfic! As aforementioned in the description, this fic is
about the CSI team in high school. They're all Freshmen (like me!)
exept for Gil and Jim, who are Sophomores. I might put some characters
in other grades, too. I know if this were at all realistic, age-wise,
this story would be impossible, but just let me have some fun. I like
high school (though I haven't started yet, only a week left!) and I've
always wondered about what would happen if the CSIs knew eachother
before the show, so to speak. Anyway, enjoy!P.S. It's in modern times,
and they all live in Vegas.
P.P.S. I'm dedicating this chapter to AmberKyep, who's fiction (High
School Times, High School Problems) inspired me to explore this area of
fiction writing. Thanks!
XoXoXoXoX
Nick Stokes stared out of the window of his mother's car. A street
lined with depressing grey buildings was sliding across his vision,
edge to edge. Keeping his nose pressed to the glass and his eyes
halfway closed, he barely noticed a dark-haired kid walking in the same
direction as the car. With nothing better to do, Nick looked back to
see if the kid was his age, maybe heading to his school, but the boy
was gone.
He jumped out of the car as soon as it pulled up in the parking lot of
McKinley high. He didn't know why, but there was something depressing
about the way his mother was acting. She had been fussing over Nick,
and he could barely see the tears in her eyes, but he knew they were
there. Last night he had overheard his parents talking, the usual "Our
little boy is growing up so fast!" deal, but there was something
different about it, this time.
Nick dismissed it as a parent thing, and went inside to his homeroom,
looking over his schedule as he walked. He had an algebra class, the
more difficult of the math classes offered to Freshmen and Sophomores.
He hoped that they would be doing actual work, even though it was the
first day of school. Nick had always been good at math, and he hated to
admit that he actually enjoyed it sometimes. "Well, here goes nothing,"
Nick mumbled, his voice barely audible above the din in the hall. He
pushed open the door to his homeroom.
XoXoXoXoX
On her bike, Sara Sidle sped down the
street towards McKinley. She nearly knocked over a dark-haired boy who
was clutching a book and reading while he was walking. She thought of
stopping to apologize, but no. This was more important. Sara was racing
to get to her school, racing to see if there were any seats in the back
of the class. She hastily locked her bike to a bike rack on a
sidestreet, then dashed inside, just barely making it to the last seat
in the back of the room. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of
the pocket of her ragged jeans, and her overly big brown eyes scanned
the first two lines.
After homeroom, she had French. A look of displeasure spread across her
thin face, vanishing just as quickly as it had come. She didn't want to
draw any attention to herself, but it was hard to resist cringing at
the horrible prospect of French."Why did I take that again?" she
thought to herself, but a stern voice in the back of her mind answered
her before she had the chance to ponder it. "Mom says it's good to
speak another language if you want to get into college." Sara felt
annoyed at this other person, after all, what did her mother know? She
was a hippie who had run a bed-and-breakfast with her lazy husband
until she had killed him, not being able to take the abuse. But, Sara
always felt her mom was trying, in her own way, to be as the best
mother she could, even though she was only allowed to see Sara once a
month, and she sent letters even less frequently. "Well," Sara
reflected, "I guess it can't be as bad as it seems."
XoXoXoXoX
The bus opened it's doors the same way
it had for the last twelve stops he'd been on it. Squeeking horridly.
Warrick Brown stepped gingerly onto the pavement, pushing his thick
glasses up his nose as he did so. He blinked his blue-green eyes,
staring at the enormous school that lay accross the street. He hadn't
had a good time in middle school, and he didn't figure that this would
be any different.
He was a short black kid, and he always got picked on for his eyes, his
glasses, his hieght, and anything else you could think of. Warrick set
off across the street, noticing as he was about ten feet away from the
brick-red doors that he wasn't alone. A dark-haired boy wearing square
glasses over his blue eyes was watching him through a window in the
door. The boy was tall, and he had a weird aura about him. Like he knew
something that no one else did.
Deciding to ignore the strange kid, Warrick pushed open the doors and
hurried to his homeroom. He couldn't be late on the first day of
school! "Grams says she can't drive me, so I guess I'll be taking the
bus every day," he thought forlornly. His grandmother was his only
family, and his only friend.
He had Chemistry second period, right after homeroom, which he was
vaguely happy about. Grams had convinced him to take it, and he wasn't
about to let her down. As Warrick entered his homeroom, and took a seat
in front of a skinny brunette girl sitting in the back corner, next to
the window.
XoXoXoXoX
"Crap,"
thought Catherine Willows, as her high-tops pounded the pavement. She
was fine with being late, even skipping homeroom, if necessary, but she
didn't want to miss second period. She was taking a CIM English class
that focused on poetry. Catherine snorted, thinking of what people were
going to say if she, an infamous school bully, turned up in a poetry
class with a bunch of nobodies and hopeless romantics. She jumped
nimbly over a recyclying bin, colliding spectacularly with the trashcan
that stood next to it. She righted the can, then went right on running.
Once inside the school, she ran straight into a boy who was walking in
the opposite direction. He had dark hair and something about him made
Catherine uneasy. She picked up his books for him and was gone.
Catherine skidded into her homeroom just as the door was closing, and
twenty-six pairs of eyes trained on her immediately. She glared at
them, and all eyes were instantly averted. That was how you delt with
Catherine. You did whatever the hell she wanted.
Catherine sat down in the middle row, a seat away from the window. The
boys on either side of her eyed her cautiously. They knew full well
that no one was allowed to date this girl sitting between them, but no
one could blame them for wishing. Catherine was one of the prettiest
girls in school, even if she was by far the meanest.
XoXoXoXoX
The wheels of Greg Sanders' skateboard
spun wildly as he sped down the street, eyes fixed on the school doors.
He glanced down at his watch, then back up at the school. McKinley high
was only a few seconds away, he could make it. When he reached the
steps he grabbed up his skateboard and bolted up the stairs, three at a
time. Pausing only for a moment to style his hair using the window as a
mirror, Greg was soon off and running to get to his homeroom. He and a
boy with dark hair reached the door at the same time, and, much as he
hated to say it, the other boy was intimidating Greg.
"Hi, I'm Greg Sanders," he stated. The other boy neither looked up, nor
replied. In fact, he was already halfway into the room when the words
were out of Greg's mouth. Greg followed the boy in, and took a seat at
the only desk available. The middle of the front row. "Well isn't this
a dandy way to start the new year," Greg thought sarcastically. At
least he had a good subject next, Social Studies. He'd always been kind
of interested to learn about other parts of the world, and although he
wasn't all that enthusiastic, he would probably make some friends. Greg
had always been good at making friends. .
XoXoXoXoX
The teacher, Mrs. Wells, had written her
name on the blackboard (as was customary) and was staring over her
entwined fingers at the class sitting in front of her. She was only one
of the 40 or so teachers at McKinley, but she always felt that she got
the oddest bunch of students for homeroom. Her normal subject was band,
and that always went well, but homeroom always had a bunch of the
weirdest teenagers in the school.
Mrs. Wells began to call roll. When she got to "Brass, Jim" a boy
sitting in the second row waved his hand nonchalantly and continued a
hushed conversation with the dark-haired boy next to him. She vaguely
remembered both the boys from the previous year. Next was "Brown,
Warrick" who, Mrs. Wells thought, looked as though if anyone turned to
look at him he might sink into the ground and die. She reached
"Grissom, Gil" on the list and the boy sitting next to Jim answered
politely. "Sanders, Greg" came right before "Sidle, Sara" who was right
before "Stokes, Nick." Mrs. Wells thought they all looked a little
weird, but dismissed it and went back to the list. The final name to be
called was "Willows, Catherine" who gruffly answered."These
kids definately seemed like an odd bunch," the teacher thought.
"Definately not the ones you'd want to have in your class"
XoXoXoXoXoX
A/N:
So what do you think? I feel like a loser asking for you to review, but
as an aspiring writer I'm always open to critique. Do you like the
mysterious Gil Grissom? Sorry I had to just say "dark-haired boy" over
and over, but you knew they were all the same person, right? If you get
any ideas on how I could improve, feel free to let me know! I love you
all for reading,
Maddy