Just a note that this story contains a general trigger warning, please proceed with caution!
Enjoy,
Sophie xx
Lopsided on the faded white wall, just above the blackboard, sits a standard looking clock. It's white border and red hands make a face if you squint hard enough and usually Emma stares at it with her head tilted to the side, in an attempt to amuse herself. However; today it seems to be taunting her as it ticks agonisingly slowly - the clicking sound it makes only adding to the infuriatingly clear fact this class is never going to end. Subconsciously she begins to tap her pencil against the desk in time to the clock, her beach blonde ponytail swaying behind her as her head gently rocks to the non-existent beat. Gradually the noise of the world around her fades to a background hum, and her mind entirely focuses on counting down the minutes until the shrill ring of the bell signals that freedom awaits.
Suddenly Emma is pulled from her headspace by an ear-piercingly shrill sound… unfortunately it's not coming from the source she was hoping for – instead, the glare of her thin faced teacher greets her, as she shakes her head trying to bring herself back to her senses and figure out who is screeching her name. Emma rolls her eyes as she realises Miss Nardone is reprimanding her for something, again. Yesterday it was the leather jacket that Nard claimed broke the college dress code, the day before it was for being caught skipping class to make-out with Graham in the stairwell, and no doubt today it will be to do with her choice of bright red lipstick.
"For goodness sakes Miss Swan does this look like a nightclub to you?" Miss Nardone drones on, "I've told you once about the jacket and I'm writing you up for having the audacity to come into my class wearing a crop top and heels. We don't even have time to discuss what drove you, when you got up this morning, to don ripped jeans in the middle of winter!"
Emma rolls her eyes pointedly and attempts to go back to staring at the clock but Nard isn't done with her yet. Nope. Now she's striding over to her desk, "For fucks sake" Emma curses under her breath, folding her arms and tilting back on her chair.
"EXCUSE ME?" Nard barks, now stood directly in front of Emma's desk.
Entirely pissed off that Miss Nardone managed to hear her curse and that she's just generally being a bitch, Emma tilts her head to the side and flashes the sickliest sweet smile she can conjure, whilst raising her eyebrows. "OUT NOW" Nard screams, her face turning bright red as she stretches her bony finger out to point towards the door.
"Alright then." Emma shrugs and kicks her desk forward to stand up, before slinging her backpack over her shoulder. The brass swan pin, haphazardly poked through the left shoulder strap, catching the light as she does. Her desk is right at the front of the room, where most teachers prefer her to sit, so she's out and into the empty corridor in less than three steps – forcefully slamming the classroom door behind her, for effect, and letting the rattle echo through the building. At least Nard didn't get around to moaning about the lipstick, she thinks - stalking off down the hallway, desperately looking for something entertaining to do until lunch. If it was up to her she'd just get in her bug and drive off, but she promised Ruby they could go for a ride at the end of the day and if Emma ditches her she'll be pissed.
Reluctantly Emma continues wandering the corridors, occasionally, and half-heartedly, kicking a locker or two for good measure on her way past. Everyone always led her to believe senior year would be the best year of her life, but she's tired of this place, and these people, and all she wants to do is get out of here and forget any of it ever happened.
As she can't physically leave campus she settles on the next best thing, turning left down a small offshoot of the corridor and carefully prising open the rusted fire door that waits for her at the end, it wasn't until the second half of her freshman year that she realised the door actually opened. She'd always figured it was bolted shut, until one day she'd been royally pissed off and kicked it wide open in a momentary lapse of judgement. She seems to get those a lot nowadays. It turned out to be a happy accident in the end anyway, because now she had a way of slipping out the building when she had a sudden craving and didn't feel like attempting to blow smoke out the bathroom window without getting caught.
As usual the cool breeze of fresh air is refreshing compared to the stuffy and confined classrooms, and Emma breathes in deeply as she pulls a cigarette from her back pocket to light up. She drops her rucksack onto the floor besides her and leans back against the wall, one knee bent. Her entire life she's been told that smoking kills but at this point she just wants to shout back and ask what there is to live for.
Day in day out she drags her sorry ass into the bleak four walls that every student in this pathetic town calls home for the entirety of their high school career. It's depressing, and the only things that make it mildly bearable are Ruby's sarcastic comments, and being slammed against a wall by Graham once in a while so that they can shove their tongues down each other's throats - although thinking about it, she even does that on autopilot now, and neither of them really give a shit about each other. Graham's an alright guy, but really they're just two teenagers in close proximity to one another who occasionally need release from the monotony of adolescence. She pushes the thought to the dark volt at the back of her mind, where she stores all her other crap, and instead focuses on the bitter taste of the cigarette smoke curling its way through her insides and wrapping her in an empty blanket of security.
After a few minutes the cool breeze turns to a bitter chill and the cigarette clutched between her fingers has become more ash on the ground than substance, but Emma is reluctant to stub it out, knowing it will symbolise the end of this brief period of relief – so she stays and lingers. Until the cold begins to bite through to her bones. Begrudgingly she drops the cigarette to the floor, stubs it out with the toe of her heel and picks up her rucksack, before turning to go back inside, forcing the door open and letting it drop with a loud bang behind her.
The bell is about to ring, so the low hum of chatter in the distance floats down the hallway, towards Emma as she heads to her locker. Confidently she walks straight at the oncoming crowd of bodies mingling and merging as they filter out of their classrooms - they disperse in a well-rehearsed manner when they reach her, sidestepping to avoid getting in her path. Her reputation preceding her as always. When she reaches her locker she is greeted by the only girl in school who gets more dress code write-ups than she does – Miss Ruby Lucas. "Hey Ruby, we still on for that drive later?" Emma asks fiddling with the combination lock.
"Of course." Ruby says, before blowing her pink bubble gum in a perfectly round circle and then letting it deflate. Her finger traces similar circles on the faded blue locker she's leaning against and it takes Emma a split second to notice that today Ruby is wearing even less clothes than usual. A white tight fitting blouse, probably from their middle school days, is tied in a bow at her waist to make it into a crop top – showing off the tan skin of her flat stomach, and the red mini skirt she has paired with it is short, even for her. It matches the streak of red in her dark hair though, and the extremely uncomfortable looking stilettos she insists on wearing everywhere.
"Okay." Emma nods slowly, rummaging in her locker for the apple and cinnamon mouth spray that helps her avoid being pulled over by any nosy members of faculty in the building - who decide that whether she's been near a cigarette is more important than actually doing their jobs. She finds the spray hiding under a pile of old books and quickly spritzes some into her mouth before throwing it back in and flipping the locker shut. "So, who are you all dressed up for?" She asks Ruby, spinning round to lean on her own locker so she is facing her.
Ruby tilts her head and smirks, leaning in and beckoning Emma to do the same - who rolls her eyes but follows her friend's instructions all the same. "Well…" Ruby starts, whispering as quietly as she can - despite the fact there's a cacophony of sound cocooning them from the passers by talking about the latest instalment in their own love lives. "There's this new chemistry tutor that I've got my eye on." She flicks her hair off her shoulder and throws her head back in laughter when she sees Emma's disapproving stare.
"Please tell me you're joking." Emma says, not even bothering to lower her voice to a whisper. Ruby just continues to grin back at her.
"His names Dr Whale… he's a doctor Emma." Now she's clutching her hand over her heart and looking up to the ceiling – being deliberately dramatic just to rile Emma up.
"You could have your pick of anyone and you choose an old and crusty member of staff?" Emma points out, sighing when Ruby says nothing. She takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what runs through the girl's brain when she comes up with these ridiculous, and always highly inappropriate, crushes.
After a moment, Ruby breaks the lingering silence - twirling a strand of chestnut brown hair round her little finger. "You could also have anyone you wanted and yet you still seem to insist on sucking face with Graham of all people."
Emma half-heartedly glares at her, wanting desperately to have the urge to defend him and their relationship (of sorts) but she finds herself surprisingly apathetic about the whole situation, and then when she finally finds the energy to open her mouth - in an attempt to utter something, anything to make it seem like she cares, Ruby interrupts. Her perfectly manicured hand is reaching behind Emma's head to the locker she's leaning on. "Speaking of Graham." She says, plucking a post-it note, neither of them had previously noticed, from the front of it, "I'm going to assume this is from him."
As she's pulling it back Emma grabs the bright yellow note from Ruby's hand, narrowly avoiding being scratched by a sharp red nail in the process. It simply reads; 'Usual Spot 12:30' in scrawled handwriting. Both girls know exactly what that means. "Are you going?" Ruby asks, deliberately licking her lips and feigning innocence with wide eyes and a cheeky smile. Emma playfully slaps her on the shoulder.
"Of course I'm going." Emma adjusts the backpack on her shoulders and stands up straight, pulling her hair out of her ponytail in the process and letting the blonde waves fall around her shoulders. Ruby reaches for a strand and lightly pulls it forward so it frames Emma's face, "What have you got now?" Emma asks.
"Chemistry" Ruby replies, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous sparkle. She pushes off the locker and adjusts her mini skirt. "Have fun with Graham." She says starting to walk off, "Oh and try not to get caught by Nard this time!" she adds, turning back to laugh.