a/n: for angel (angels entwined) in the very frosty winter exchange on fanfiction imagination. sorry for the horrible incorporation of the prompts! :c this is really different from what i usually write, and i'm not quite sure if it's a good different. i'm working on improving my writing, i promise.
modern AU, set in san francisco. beta-read by the fabulous sharine (tyrells)!
rocky roads
jason/reyna
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"Welcome to San Francisco High School. I'm James Grace, your principal. And you are?" The blond haired man with sideburns, a short haircut, and a toothy white smile spins around in his large black principal's chair. He looks like he's in his upper-30s, maybe lower-40s. Either way, principals are not supposed to be like this. Principals are supposed to be mean, nasty, and quite ugly. Principals are not supposed to be handsome and young. He's wearing the typical suit and tie, but he rocks it in a way no one else can. There's a certain aura about him that is unexplainable.
"Reyna," the girl with her raven-colored hair in a braid responds curtly. She's wearing a white polo and a red pleated skirt that she thinks she looks ridiculous in. She picks at her fingernails and crosses and uncrosses her legs nervously.
Principal Grace doesn't say anything; instead, he raises an eyebrow. She knows that he's asking for her last name. She can almost hear him say, 'Reyna what?'
She sighs. Her last name isn't something that she likes to give out. She wanted to leave her past behind, along with her last name, but unfortunately, giving out her last name is inescapable. "Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano," she answers reluctantly. "But I would much rather go by Reyna Avila."
The principal folds his hands on his lap and smiles at her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Reyna. I'm required to use your given last name here at school. But you may go by that name anywhere else, just not here."
Reyna bites her lip, but nods.
"So, ah, your old school — where was it again?" He whirls his chair back around and retrieves a pad of paper and a pen from his desk.
"Florida," she mutters.
"Right, so your old school in Florida hasn't mailed me your student records yet, but I assume it'll be here soon. In the meantime, I'll need to know what grade you're going to be in and what classes you're going to be taking. Your father has already given me all your personal information, such as your birth date."
"Eleventh and I'm not sure." Reyna pauses. "I mean, my school system was different back in Florida . . ." she trails off.
"No worries," Principal Grace says. "I can wait a few more days. It's just that maybe the counselors can't. Would you be okay with it if you were put in on-level classes? You look like a smart girl."
Reyna thinks of her old principal back in Florida, who was nothing like Principal Grace; she had appeared to be pretty and kind, but in actuality, was nasty and cruel. She was a strong feminist — which wasn't a bad thing, but her opinions were just a little too strong — and felt that all men should be exterminated and turned into women's servants. Her father had decided that it was not a healthy learning environment for Reyna and her sister, and promptly moved them to California. Well, not her sister, but that was another story for another time.
She remembers that Principal Grace is expecting an answer and shakes her head. "I don't mind."
"Very well." He deposits the pad of paper and the pen back on his desk. He grabs a thick handbook with the words San Francisco High School printed on it and hands it to Reyna. "In this handbook, you'll find everything you need to know about San Francisco High." His eyes flicker to Reyna's outfit. "Oh, and we don't have a dress code here."
Reyna suppresses a smile as she accepts the handbook. It's really heavy and she almost falls off her chair, but manages to upright herself.
"Well, you should go enjoy what you have left of summer. I'll see in you in two weeks, Ms. Reyna. I'm sure you'll love it here." Principal Grace winks at her before leaving the room.
Reyna slowly gets up too, and follows him out. She pushes open the double doors of the entrance and walks outside. She is greeted by a swarm of mosquitoes and lets out a little yelp. She groans as she swats at them. She didn't think San Francisco would have mosquitoes too. She already had enough mosquito bites to last for a lifetime—one of the downsides to living in Florida, where it was extremely humid 90% of the time—and certainly didn't need any more.
Her hand comes into contact with something that feels like skin. She realizes that she had been squinting and opens her eyes. Reyna's dark brown eyes meet a pair of ice blue ones. She feels herself blushing and moves her gaze upwards, only to find golden blond hair just like the principal's. "I-I'm so sorry," she stutters, "I was swatting at the mosquitoes and I must have—"
The boy grins. "It's fine. I hate mosquitoes too." He rubs his cheek where Reyna had slapped him. "You're actually pretty strong, you know." She blushes even harder and stares down at her Converse sneakers. "By the way, my name's Jason. Jason Grace."
Reyna stops staring at the ground and returns her gaze upward. "Jason Grace. As in . . . Principal James Grace?"
"Yeah, he's my father."
"I can see the resemblance." The two of them share an awkward smile. "Oh, I almost forgot. My name's Reyna."
"Got a last name?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. She swears he looks exactly like his father when he does this.
She makes a face, which extracts a laugh from Jason. "Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano. Use it and die." She makes sure to look threatening and intimidating.
"I'm sorry, no can do, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano," Jason says with a laugh.
Reyna glares at him. "Grace is a girl's name," she states, "I gotta go; my dad's waiting for me." She gestures towards the parking lot, where her father's beat-up old van was parked. She smirks as she starts running towards the car.
"Nice meeting you, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano!" he calls after her.
She just rolls her eyes.
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San Francisco is different from Florida, to say the least. There are skyscrapers and there are rarely clear skies. Like today, for instance; the city is covered by haze, even though it is summer. It was also quite humid, which Reyna found strange — in Florida, they always had clear blue skies, even though it was humid. Florida was more tropical and a place for relaxation, while San Francisco was busier and it was quite easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the city. Nevertheless, there was the Golden Gate Bridge, and the fact that it's near the ocean.
Reyna's father tells her to go outside and get some "fresh" air and just explore the city, their new home, while he unpacks and moves stuff around in their new apartment. Home is an ambiguous term, she thinks. She has never really had a home. She was born in Puerto Rico and moved to Florida when she was seven or eight. She's gone to a lot of schools in Florida, always staying within a ten-mile radius of her original Florida home.
Her mother left them when Reyna was just a child, or so her father tells her. All her life, people have been leaving her; first was her mother, then her friends in middle school, and then her sister, Hylla, who left to attend an all girl's college somewhere in the Northeast. What really baffles Reyna is the fact that Hylla was accepted to Stanford, but chose not to go. Why didn't she go? She could've been with her family.
All she wants is a home to stay at for good, to stop moving around, and for people to stop leaving her.
She skips out of the apartment building with nothing on her except for her wallet. The hustle and bustle of the city is a strange thing to her. There are so many places to go, but Reyna ends up choosing an ice cream parlor. Ice cream has always been her favorite food. Memories of birthday parties and amusement parks come flooding back to her. Yes, ice cream it is. Ice cream never gets old.
Reyna pushes open the door to the ice cream parlor and inhales the sweet aroma of milk and cream and all sorts of flavors and toppings. It feels like home — ice cream is universal and it's comforting to know that wherever she goes, there'll always be ice cream.
She sits down in a booth, all by herself, and tells the waitress that she would like a "medium-sized rocky road with hot fudge, please". It's her usual order, although she sometimes likes to mix it up a bit by ordering mint chocolate chip, or cookies and cream, or adding sprinkles, or something. For the time being, she wants to keep it simple; it's also reminiscent of the past.
When her ice cream arrives, she doesn't scarf it down; instead, she takes small, dainty spoonfuls, trying to savor the taste as long as possible. Reyna's eyes wander around, taking in everything and everyone around her. She's more of an observer; her father always said she had a keen and sharp eye.
She watches the people in the ice cream parlor, the people strolling along outside the window, everything. Her gaze passes over a little girl licking a chocolate ice cream cone, a couple holding hands and walking down the street, a group of teenagers laughing and having an ice-cream eating contest — then she sees a familiar pair of ice blue eyes. She sits up straight and tries to act nonchalant, all the time praying, please don't' see me, please don't see me, please don't see me —
"Well, isn't it you again, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano!"
Reyna looks at the wall, refusing to turn around. She just wants a break and to be by herself for a while, is that too much to ask for? (Okay, fine, her father was the one who insisted that she get out of the house, but she actually likes being by herself.) Besides, did Jason Grace think that they were friends? Maybe she gave off the wrong impression yesterday, because Reyna does not like making friends, at least not anymore. She just can't stand getting close to someone and then having them leave her or vice versa.
"Hello? Earth to Reyna?" Seeing that he used her first name instead of her last, she turns around. He's holding a bowl of three scoops of plain vanilla ice cream with no toppings.
"Jason Grace." She nods, not meeting his gaze. "Why vanilla, and why no toppings?"
"Because," he says, sliding into the booth seat across from her. Reyna scooches more towards the wall. "It's pure, and plain, and not fancy. I can't have everything fancy all the time, can I?" He glances at her bowl of rocky road ice cream. "Why rocky road?"
She only shrugs. "It's what I usually get; what I've gotten ever since I was little."
"Whoa," Jason exclaims. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"
"Don't you ever get tired of vanilla?" Reyna shoots back, refusing to actually answer his question. She places her spoon back in her half-empty bowl. "You know what, let's just not talk about it."
"Okay," Jason says. "So my dad told me you just moved here from Florida." She meets his gaze this time, as if to say, what about it? "I was just wondering . . . what's it like in Florida? And how are you liking San Francisco so far? It's a great town. I could show you all the good stores and restaurants around—"
Reyna laughs, surprising Jason. "Really? Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine on my own." She gets up, leaving her half-finished ice cream on the table for the waitress to collect. I'm really not that hungry anymore, she tells herself, trying to sound convincing. "Oh, and if you want to be friends, no thanks. Again, I'm better off on my own."
She walks out the door, leaving a dumbfounded boy with the hair of spun gold behind. She tells herself that it's for the best; that she really shouldn't let herself get close to anyone. (She can't risk getting her heart broken again; she can't risk him leaving her. No, Reyna cannot love, or have friends.)
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Two days later, Reyna really regrets walking out on Jason just like that. They were getting along fine that first day. She actually enjoyed having a friend; she was actually having fun. And hadn't her father promised that they would stay here, at least until she graduated from high school? It was compensation for how they had moved around all those years, how her mother had left them, and how Hylla left them as well for the East Coast.
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The next day, she finds herself back at the ice cream parlor.
She spots Jason immediately; he is sitting by himself at a booth, swirling his spoon around in his vanilla ice cream bowl absentmindedly. "Grace is a girl's name," she says. Without waiting for him to answer, she sits down across from him.
He stops moving his spoon around and stares at her, a surprised look on his face. He soon recovers and clears his throat. "So, Ramírez-Arellano, have you come back to reconsider my offer?"
"Maybe." She calls one of the waitresses over and orders a bowl of rocky road ice cream ("medium, please, thank you"). Jason looks at her expectantly. "Oh!" she exclaims. "Um, so you want to show me around? Yeah, sure, that could work . . . I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this; well, I mean, I've never had an actual friend before — no, sorry, let me rephrase that — I've never had a friend who hadn't deserted me in the end, and I'm just not sure if I'm willing to trust you or not."
She looks down at the table, and once she sees the gooey ice cream stains, she wishes that she hadn't. "I'm sorry; you shouldn't have to deal with me." Reyna curses herself for being so awkward around people in general, for not being able to make friends to keep, for just not being able to communicate well with people.
"Hey, look, it's fine." Jason surprises her by saying this. He had always struck her as more of the popular jock type of guy, y'know, the type of guy that never pays her any attention at all. (She's just Reyna; always just Reyna; nothing special.)
Reyna manages a small smile at this. Her ice cream arrives, and she is grateful for the distraction. This time, instead of taking small spoonfuls, she takes a big one, and scarfs it down in one gulp. Jason looks amused, and her smile just widens. "Hey, so do you really want to know why I like rocky road so much?" Reyna finds herself saying.
"Yeah, sure, why not? I already told you why I like vanilla so much."
She finds the situation extremely awkward. She wants to stop talking and bolt in the other direction, but she tells herself that she needs to do this; she needs to learn how to deal with people. "Um, okay, so I think it represents life?" It comes out as more of a question. Reyna takes a few deep breaths to calm the nerves that she didn't even know she had.
"In life, there are good things, and there are bad things. There are bumps in the road, and there are euphoric moments. I think rocky road ice cream represents that. It's not like cookies and cream, when everything is sweet all the time and you know exactly what to expect. It's bold and daring, and you never know if you're going to get something hard or soft. Sometimes, you get marshmallows, which symbolize sweetness; sometimes, you get nuts, which are a little harder to chew and swallow, but you have to eat them if you want to get to the good stuff.
It's just all a part of life, the good and the bad. But you have to go through all of them to really live."
"Well, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano, now you're making me feel bad about liking vanilla," Jason jokes.
"Sorry." Reyna laughs, surprising herself. It's a genuine laugh, not one of those forced ones you make at corny jokes because you don't want to be rude. "Your reason for liking vanilla ice cream is actually really good."
"Thanks." Jason takes another bite of his ice cream, leaving him with an empty bowl. He pushes the bowl towards the center of the table. "You know, I've never really met a girl like you."
"What do you mean by that?" Reyna crinkles her brows together, not sure if she understands what he means by this.
"You're so mysterious, but in a good way, of course. You're a puzzle yourself. I'm still not sure exactly who you are. I've been wondering about you for days. You like metaphors, even in the smallest day-to-day things that most people here just take for granted, like ice cream." He lowers his voice and his head, like he's too shy and embarrassed to say the next words. "You're also the first girl I've met who didn't like me."
Seeing the expression on Reyna's face, he quickly adds, "I mean, usually girls fall in love with me. And usually I don't like them back, in that way. If you can keep a secret, most of the time, they do it because my father's the principal. I can always see right through them, though. But not you. You joked with me. I find you fascinating, and would love to know more about you. Am I even making any sense?"
"No, but I never said being nonsensical was a bad thing," she answers. "I don't make any sense when I talk to people half the time."
"It's so strange how I know nothing about you, I might add," Reyna finally says after some pondering.
"The truth is," Jason admits, "I don't even know who I am myself. If you haven't noticed, I'm one of the more popular boys in school, but not exactly because I want to. Everyone seems to know so much about me; they claim I'm a 'walking legend.'"
"I've always thought of you as more of a jock," Reyna muses. "Do you play sports? I mean, okay, practically every boy plays sports, but are you like, really good?"
"I'm okay, I guess. I'm on the school basketball team and the cross-country team, but playing sports isn't really my favorite thing in the world."
"Then what is your favorite thing in the world?"
"Again, I know nothing about myself, but I've always liked mystery novels and solving mysteries myself. I like puzzles, the [touchable] ones with pieces that you have to put together and mind puzzles as well. I also like talking to people?" Jason's voice raises at the end of the sentence, making it sound like more of a question. "But at the same time, I like being alone. And it's better if I'm talking to a small group of people."
"Wow," she says, "I've never met a boy whose favorite hobby wasn't 'sports'."
"I'm not your typical boy, if you haven't noticed. And not just because of whom my father is. What about you, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano? What's your favorite hobby?"
"I like reading," she tells him, "and avoiding people." She swallows the last bite of ice cream and pushes the bowl to the center of the table like Jason did. "I don't know; I'm just really socially awkward."
Jason's eyes flicker to the clock hanging on the wall. "Oh, god, it's late. I have to go meet my father. I promised him I'd help him with back-to-school stuff. I'm really sorry." He stands up, and Reyna thinks that he looks genuinely sorry and decides that he isn't lying. (Finally, someone she can trust.) "So, I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano?"
"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Reyna teases, winking playfully.
"Ah, mysterious. I like that."
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The third time they meet at the ice cream parlor, Reyna doesn't even flinch when he says her last name. She just responds with, "Grace is a girl's name."
They sit down in their usual booth and order their usual ice creams. "Well, mystery solved," Jason comments, and Reyna cracks a smile.
They eat in silence for a few minutes. The only sound that can be heard is the clinking of their spoons against their bowls and, of course, all the people shuffling around in the ice cream parlor.
"So what was your past like?" Jason asks suddenly, breaking the silence. He's quite curious about this girl sitting across from him, the mysterious girl. Said mysterious girl's face turns cloudy, and she drops her spoon in her bowl and stares at the wall. He immediately knows that he's touched on something that she doesn't like to talk about and wishes he could take it back. "I—" he begins.
"Don't," she whispers. "Just don't."
He feels really guilty and wishes he could find a way to amend this. He's finally met a girl he thinks he might actually like. He can't screw everything up. "If it makes you feel any better, my mother's in a mental institute. My family isn't exactly the most perfect one, no matter how hard my father tries to make us look perfect."
This makes Reyna turn around. She looks concerned and her big brown eyes are very wide. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Why is she there, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I'm not sure, actually. I think it had something to do with her having a fight with my father. I was very young when it happened, maybe around two or three."
"And she's still there? Oh my god," she breathes.
"I'm fine with it. I never really got to know her, but it still makes me feel sad every Mother's Day. I don't even know where she is; my father won't tell me. My sister — she's a few years older than me; she's in college now — told me everything she could about our mother. I think she was a nice lady, and it's such a shame that she ended up the way she did. I wish I actually got to know her."
"Where's your sister now?" Out of all the questions she could've asked, this is the one Reyna picks. She curses herself silently, wishing that she had sympathized with him more.
Jason doesn't seem to mind, though. "At some all-girls school somewhere."
"Really? Oh my god, that's where my sister's at too! She could've gone to Stanford, but she ditched us for the East Coast. What if they're at the same college? That would be insane."
"Yeah, I guess it would." Jason shrugs. "So what happened in your past? Are you ready to spill?"
"Okay," Reyna gives in. She figures that if he was willing to share that information with her, she might as well tell him everything about her past. "Well, here goes." She takes a deep breath. "Like you, I never really got to know my mother. She left us when I was little. I was probably two or three at that time as well. My father still won't tell me where she went, and I've stopped trying to figure out. It's hopeless.
We moved to Florida when I was seven or eight. We moved around a lot there and I went to a lot of different schools, always staying in the same area. I don't think I ever stayed in the same house for one year. It didn't help that my sister left us recently. So my father moved us here, and, well, you know what happens from then on. I don't know, I just feel like I've never really had a home, a safe place to land."
Jason reaches across the table and grabs her hand. Reyna feels instantly more confident. His hand is warm and soft and a bit bigger than hers. "You'll always have a home here," he promises her, "in San Francisco, at the ice cream parlor, with me. I promise."
"No one's ever kept any promises they've made to me," she says quietly. It's true — her sister, Hylla, had promised that she'd never leave her. But then she did. Every time they moved to a new house, her father had always promised that they wouldn't move again. But they always ended up moving. She doesn't even know if she can trust him.
"There's a first time for everything," Jason says, and Reyna smiles. Maybe, just maybe, she can trust him. Jason Grace, son of Principal James Grace. The boy who loves mysteries.
"Oh yeah, may I ask one more question?" he asks her. She nods. "Why do you always have your hair in a braid?"
She strokes her long black braid fondly. "Force of habit, I guess. And it makes me feel . . . stronger, in a way. Like I'm in control of everything. Well, at least my hair. By putting it in a braid, I know that it won't blow in my face and get in the way and that just reassures me."
"You know what, Ms. Ramírez-Arellano? I think I'm starting to get to the bottom of this mystery."
"Oh, but there's still a lot you don't know." Reyna smirks on the outside, but she's really willing to share everything with Jason. It's nice, having someone who's willing to listen, someone to confide in. A friend, perhaps (or something more). It's different. It's a change from what she's used to and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she could get used to opening up to people.
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And so begins the tale of two unexpected lovers who don't seem to have anything in common except for their love of ice cream. It's a little strange, but who said this girl and this boy aren't strange themselves?
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The day before the first day of school, the boy finds the girl sitting on one of the benches in the park reading her book. He silently sits down next to her and hands her an ice cream cone. She isn't really too surprised to see him; they have a knack for running into each other suddenly and at the weirdest of times.
"Rocky road," she says as he hands her the ice cream cone. "How did you know?"
"Lucky guess?"
She shuts her book and they laugh together and lick their ice cream. It's a beautiful summer day, at least by San Francisco standards. They can actually see the blue sky, dotted by clouds, and the sunlight radiating from the sun fills her with warmth. Kids are running around on the playground, teenage boys are playing soccer on the field, mothers are going for leisurely strolls, some pushing their strollers, and Jason and Reyna are, well, eating ice cream together on a bench.
"You never told me what your favorite thing in the world was," Jason comments, breaking the long silence.
"Ah, if you have to know — ice cream. Rocky road ice cream." Reyna sees Jason smile out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't say anything more. She likes the peaceful quiet that is rare for San Francisco.
As she watches all the people at the park from all different backgrounds and with all different interests, she can't help but think that despite all their differences, they all have a common home. San Francisco. They all like the park. This city is made for everyone; there are places for everyone. For Jason and Reyna, it's the ice cream parlor.
It's not perfect — it's not like one of those sappy romance novels or movies; it's a relationship built on ice cream, by the gods — but at least it's something. It makes her happier than she's ever been before, and she's found a home in this city. San Francisco isn't New York City or even Los Angeles. It's not as famous and doesn't have all these beautiful and breathtaking landmarks or celebrities like Tristan McLean, but it's a place that makes her feel like she belongs.
In the end, that's all that really matters.
a/n: i wanted to include the other characters in here as well, but i honestly didn't know how, so i'll just leave it at this. and this ended up more friendship-y than romance-y idek. hope this wasn't too bad?
if you have any title suggestions, please feel free to tell me!