Disclaimer: I own nothing.

– – –

Carol hugged her new binder to her chest, her backpack fitted firmly against her spine, and she inhaled deeply, nearly sucking in an auburn curl that dangled inchs from her lips. She shook her head, feeling the clip holding most of her hair back tug, and she whined softly, trying to shake the anxious feeling out of her gut. She hated the first day of school with probably an unholy passion. It was always the worst. Especially when your mom was now your homeroom teacher! God, at least she didn't have to endure that alone. That was the only plus.

"Carol." Andrea flagged her down and tackled her. "I haven't seen you all summer!"

She laughed at her best friend's energy and hugged her back with one arm. "You did too see me."

"Yeah, but we're not supposed to talk about that night." She grinned. "You look so cute."

She blushed. "Shut up."

"You do. You finally figured out how to style your hair. It only took...pfff, ten years?"

"Eleven." Michonne joined the girls. "It took eleven."

"Assholes." She rolled her eyes. "My mom helped me with it."

"Ah, yes. Your mom." Andrea nodded. "I get it now, and you've lost points. I'm no longer impressed."

"I wasn't trying to impress you. Come down from the Monster high, all right? We talked about this." Carol started to walk down the hall when Michonne stopped her. "What? I have to get to homeroom."

"The first bell hasn't even rung yet, and I want to know your schedule." She held her hand out. "I have Williams and Williams with Andrea, what do I have with you?"

She turned her binder around and held it out. "We have Williams together too. Sasha, anyway. I have physical education as my first."

"Cool, we also have Douglas together. Oh, and Horvath." She smiled. "I have classes with both my friends. This semester might not be total hell."

"Yeah, but we have Williams." Andrea reminded her. "She'll work us to the bone in P.E. She makes the old coach look like a soggy waffle. She has a six pack."

"How do you know this?" Michonne handed Carol her binder back.

She shrugged. "I listen?"

"Right." She smirked at her and turned to Carol. "I'll meet you guys in first. I have to grab something to eat. I'm thinking Poptarts." She scurried off to fight fellow students for the last cinnamon brown sugar Poptart.

"I already ate." Andrea walked beside Carol. "Dad and Ames are quite the cooks."

"Did the rich girl enjoy her caviar and boiled goose eggs?" Carol teased.

"Ew." She sent her a glare. "And no. Toast and normal eggs with bacon and pancakes. Nothing fancy there, and don't call me that."

"Well, sorry. I had Fruit Loops." She pushed her index finger over the spine of her binder. "Look, Andrea..."

"We said we wouldn't talk about it, and we're not." She met her eyes. "It was a stupid teenager thing, okay? We'll laugh about when we're older. For now, I have to track down my homeroom. They changed me to Greene."

And just like that Carol was left alone in the hallway. She shuffled her feet and headed to her homeroom. No one else should be there yet, and she wanted to talk to her mom. She wondered if she could still go home. Dad was at home. At least for another hour then he had to leave for work. She could fake sick, and nobody would care. Well, her parents would care, but nobody here. Michonne had other people to hang out with for second and fourth. Or she could find some.

"Hey, why the long face?"

She looked up to find her sister outside their mom's class room. "I don't have...a long face."

"And I'm not adopted."

"Lori."

"What?" She laughed. "Dude, calm down and sit. Mom's having a word with Ty."

"About what?" She sat down beside her.

"I dunno. How French and Marketing have nothing in common." She set her purse on her lap and studied her. "Did you eat this morning?"

"No." She couldn't swallow anything. Her stomach was a massive knot. Though if she told Andrea that, she'd haul her down to the cafeteria and force her to eat. She was against skipping meals since her baby sister battled (and still continues to battle) it out with anorexia. "I'll eat at lunch."

"You'd better. I don't have first lunch, but Andrea does. Michonne might. I don't know."

She rested her hand in her palm. "I'm so tired, and it's not even close to the end of the day."

"The school year has began," Lori teased. "Get used to it."

"Easy for you to say. People are nice to you," she muttered that last part, not wanting to worry her. She could handle a few bullies. Paula might find a new target, or a sense of humanity and cut the bullying part out of herself. That might be too much to ask for, but it might happen. She had lost her braces before this year started, and the acne had cleared up too, so sophomore years was looking up thus far. Day one of the next ten months of her life.

"You know you can transfer?" She peered at her sister. "Become an office aid like me. We can do errands and just chill out fourth period."

"No, I can only do it once. I'm gonna save it for senior year." She pulled her legs in. "You should've too."

"I'm not one to wait." She leaned towards her. "Which is why I'm gonna go for him this year."

"What? Who?"

"Rick." Her eyes widened and screeched duh! at Carol. "Who else? Shane? Caesar? Or that Dixon kid?"

"Yeah, don't go with the "bad boys"."

"Did you just say that?" She laughed. "Have you met them? Shane is as bad and dangerous as a butter knife."

"He's on the football team. Or he's gonna try out for it." She picked at the sleeve to her cardigan, peeking at her sister. "So is Caesar."

"Ae you gonna try out for cheer?" She stretched her legs out, and Carol vigorously shook her head no beside her. "Why not? You have the hips to hold up that skirt."

"I do not!" She blushed. "I—I don't even want to be a cheerleader anymore, and—and when I did, I was six!"

"I still think you'd be good at it." She tucked hair behind her ear. "Michonne's trying out for dance."

"Really?"

She nodded. "So is Andrea. I think they'll make it. Mom's the coach, so their kind of grandfathered in, you know?"

"Yeah, and Michonne's really good. She always upstages us at parties. Not—not, like, intentionally. She just...can't hold back, and we suck." She laughed, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"You didn't suck at Tobin's end of school bash." Her eyes sliced over to Carol's, and Carol visibly tensed. "At least not at dancing."

"I didn't—"

"You drank so much, I thought you were going to get alcohol poisoning and die. Carol, we had to carry you to the car the next morning. We couldn't even find you the night of the party! Hell, you weren't even there..." She lowered her voice. "I couldn't lecture you when it happened, or after 'cause we had to get summer jobs "to build character", and our hours conflicted, but I am now."

"It won't happen again," she vowed. "I—I just didn't want to be a...a loser or a spaz, so I drank. The wine coolers tasted really good."

"Carol."

"I'm sorry." She averted her eyes to the white and green tilted floor. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Good, because you're heavy to lift. You were like a jellyfish, all blaahh." She slumped over Carol to cheer her up, and Carol giggled. "Don't take it so seriously, kid." She didn't why Carol was half passed out on the sidewalk outside Tobin's house, but they found her and got her home. Lori just hoped nothing had happened to her prior to them finding her. She was all puffy eyed and pale. It might have been the drinking, or it might have be something else. Something worse, but honestly who could say? Carol didn't talk about the party. She might as well have not been there.

"I'll try." She smiled.

"Am I interrupting?" Karen stood in the doorway with Tyreese behind her. "Or is Lori dying?"

"Gee, thanks for the concern, Mom." Lori stood up.

"I'm full of concern. Like why you're wearing that sweater. Yellow isn't a good color for you." She tugged on the hem of the knitted yellow sweater her daughter wore.

"I'll take this as my excuse to leave." Tyreese smiled at the girls. "I'll see you in class, Miss Callies."

"Oui," Lori replied, "Je... I'm looking forward to it."

He laughed.

"What? I'm still level one on Rosetta Stone," she mused with a smile. "I only know how to say Je, which is I, and...yes, but everyone knows how to say yes in French."

"That is true, but hopefully by the end of the year, you'll be able to say I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too, sir."

"I'll see you later, Karen." He walked off towards the teacher's lounge to try and swipe some free coffee.

Karen showed them inside, gesturing to her vacant desk. "See? No embarrassing photos of either of you. Are you happy?"

"Very." Lori sat on a desk, her feet propped up on the seat. "The baby pictures weren't cute, Mom. And the middle school ones? You pretty much picked every shot where my acne was raging. I looked like a tomato. A flat-chested tomato."

"What's changed?" Karen mused.

Lori laughed once. "Mom!"

"What? The only reason you own a bra is because your dad made us buy you one."

Carol snorted and set her binder on the desk behind Lori, who sent her a glare. "What?"

"Don't worry about it. You're a late bloomer." Karen put her hands on her hips. "It's probably something you get from your father."

"Really?" Lori turned on the desk. "You never talk about my father."

"And I'm not." She turned away to face the whiteboard. "Get off the desk, Lori."

"Why?"

The bell rang them, Lori slipped off the desk immediately, and thus began the flood of students rushing to get to homeroom. Well, the ones that actually care about being on time. The stragglers would come in just after the last bell, and then that ones who honestly didn't give a shit weren't in school. They were committed to skipping. Like a certain character who Carol hoped and prayed skipped school today. He was the last person in the entire world she wanted to see today. Please, please let him skip!

Phillip Blake entered the room, rubbing jaw and scanning the room for his friends, and his eyes landed on Carol and Lori. He smirked at the sight of them and ambled to his desk, nodding to his friends.

The second bell rang, and Blake to Dylan had filled the seats, save for a few who had skipped, and Carol released her breath, though it seemed only in sound. An air bubble had settled in her chest. She chose to ignore it and pulled a pen out of her binder, in case they had to sign a seating arrangement or whatever Mom—er, Ms. Callies pulled out of her hat. When Mom was at her desk, she was straight up their teacher, nothing more, nothing less.

"All right." Karen stood at the podium, running her eyes over the students who filled in the seats, seeing at least four that were missing. Two weren't a surprise, one had been pulled out last minute due to them shaving down the D last names, and one had transferred last week. They had yet to update the roster. She crossed their name off the list and began to call attendance.

As she neared the end of the Cs one of the students who wasn't a surprise to been missing showed up. He slipped into one of the back seats without a word, blonde hairs blocking his vision, his chin resting on his knuckles as he looked uninterested in the world around him. She was stunned he'd made the effort to even come to homeroom. He likely got caught in the halls and was slapped with a warning. She would have to thank Tomas for that.

"I'm glad you decided to join us," Karen called him out, "and next time I expect you to have a note from the office explaining why you're tarty."

He said nothing.

Karen didn't bother to push. It was the first day back. She would be able to pick a fight with him later on in the year, probably tomorrow. She would lay off the first week, but if it continued, she would take action. He was already on thin ice as it was, and this school year had just begun. They were barely an hour into this school year, and he already had an attitude. If he kept it up, she'd give him a reason to have an attitude.

The bell dismissed them for first, Lori spun around in her seat to ask Carol if she wanted to swing by the snack machines for a much needed Kit-Kat, but Carol was gone. She blinked and saw her rushing out the door towards first period. She frowned and wondered who lit a fire under her ass today. She never rushed to P.E. Hell, people rushed away from physical education, but never towards it, save for jocks. Even then it was mostly for show or the hot gym teacher. Geez.

As she shouldered her purse, she caught Phillip chuckling and motioning to Carol's vacant seat. She almost approached him, but her first was with Douglas, and he was across the building. She would have to weave through bodies and fight with freshmen who didn't know the halls yet, and she would deal with that assmunch later. They likely shared a class, because they always did. It was a joke with no punchline. Eleven years of schooling, with Phillip right there in one of her classes every year. If there was a punch line, it better be fucking brilliant. Until then...American At War was calling.

– –

Carol sat in the back of the class with Andrea and Michonne, shrinking into the desk, trying to catch her breath, and she buried her face in her hands, trying to shake herself out of this mood. They weren't going to talk about it. She wasn't going to think about it. It was a stupid party, and it couldn't haunt her. Phillip could go choke. Asshole.

"You okay?" Michonne studied the curly-haired ginger.

"Just tired." She forced a smile and crossed her arms. "Ms. Callies lectures."

"She really does." Andrea smoothed on some lip balm. "But she's a great teacher. I'm taking her Marketing class next semester. And the others next year."

Michonne smiled at her enthusiasm. "Maybe I should give her class a shot then. I haven't heard you this interested in a course since...uh, first grade."

"I resent that." She was smiling back at her, though. "It's true, but I resent it."

All of a sudden music began to fill the room, everyone looked around for someone with their phone out, but no one did. It was an upbeat song, very fast paced, but it felt kinda old. They were confused why it was playing when out of nowhere appeared Sasha. She was holding the door open with a slight smile.

"Come on, guys, let's go the gym."

Then it fell into place as the chorus began to play: I'm just running in the 90's. Come on baby run to me. We are running in the 90s. It's a new way to set me free.

And here began the physical part of physical education. They ran laps around the gym, she was timing them, and she made the stragglers pick up the pace. Carol was one of the stragglers along with two other girls and two boys. It was really quiet sad. She used to play sports, but if she told anyone, they'd claim playing laser tag with your dad on the weekend wasn't a sport. They didn't know how intense it got when they hit the course. They were jumping and dodging, like the laser was a damn bullet to them, so they made sure they weren't gonna get hit. And by that logic when they did get it, it became this big dramatic thing. They'd done it since she was seven. Dad kept it a tradition.

"All right." She rounded them up on the bleachers. "Well, for starters you should all be proud of yourselves. None of you passed out, and you all look awake now. I'm proud of you."

"Whoo," dryly came from Tobin.

Sasha chuckled. "Yes, whoo. Now, let me explain this little jog you all performed. It wasn't for my amusement." Though watching these teenagers trying to husle around a gym or just gather the energy this early in the morning was pretty funny.

"What was it for then?" Paula—Carol's arch-nemesis—asked. "To get the blood pumping?"

"I can think of a few ways to do that," Phillip commented with a smirk.

"And you'd better keep them to yourself," Sasha retorted, a sharp glare flashing in her eyes before fading as she now addressed the class as a whole. "No, it was to test your physique. Some of you are in great shape, and...some of you could use some improvement."

Carol knew which category she fit into. She rested her chin on her knuckles and blew out a soft sight. She felt someone's eyes on her, and she tried to ignore it, but she was curious. She looked over and saw the kid who'd she hoped would skip. She instantly looked away and focused on the coach.

"That's why I'm partnering you up."

"Do we get to choose our partners?" Shane inquired, leaning toward his buddy Martinez.

"No, you'd only pick your friend, and nobody would improve." She cleared her throat. "When I call your name, come stand on the blue line, okay? And don't be nervous. This is just your partner for the rest of this semester, and their participation and effort affects your grade as well."

Carol gulped. Please don't let her be partnered with Paula. Please don't let her be partnered with Paula. Please don't let her be partnered with Paula. Please don't let me be partnered with Paula. She crossed her fingers in her lap and prayed. Please, God, please.

"...Michonne Gurira."

"Wish me luck," she uttered to her friends before hoping up to take her place next to Shane.

"All right." Sasha walked the length of the line she'd created. "For those still on the bench, I want you to look at your mentors for the next eighteen weeks. You'll be assigned one of them. What this means is you'll help each other with homework. You'll work together in the weight room and out on the field. You'll be partners in every sense of the word. One of you falls behind, you both fall behind. If I feel your partner is intentionally ragging you down, I will drop only their grade. I will not change your partner unless the circumstances are extreme. Understood?"

Some nodded, some verbalized their understanding.

"Good, now let's introduce you to your partner." She crossed something off her clipboard. "Andrea Harrison, come on down."

"Oh, yeah, I'm first." It was a dry murmur to Carol, who snickered softly through her nose, and she pushed herself up and trotted down the bleachers. Whatever happened to alphabetical order?

"You will be working with Shane. You two have a similar personality. I think you'll do well together."

She nodded and joined him, smiling. Perhaps it won't be so bad. She low-fived him so coach wouldn't see.

"Tobin Garret, you'll be with Paula. I think you'll balance each other." She continued down the list, Carol's grip on the bleachers only tightened as she worked her way through the names of the students still on the bleachers and finally came her name. She was panting, her heart pounding, and she felt physically ill. All great signs, rights? "Carol Callies, come on down."

She whimpered and climbed down the stairs, trying to hide her shaking knees. "Yeah?"

"You're with Michonne."

"Oh, thank God." She exhaled.

"Don't seem so excited. Michonne's my star pupil. I expect you to keep up." She sent her a wink though, and Carol nodded, joining her friend with a wide smile. "Daryl Dixon?"

Carol turned to the last student on the bleachers, clad in black jeans, a grey tee and leather jacket, and she swallowed, knotting her hands together.

"You and—"

"She's the only one left," he interrupted her. "Kinda don't see a point in you tellin' me."

"Actually, Daryl, I'm not putting you with anyone."

"What?" He scoffed. "That's balanced."

"You don't need a partner." She held put her clipboard. "You and Maggie will be in charge of grading. What I don't see, you two will. I expect honesty, and if you fail me, you'll be put through the most brutal exercise I can think of that is allowed by the school board. That goes for both of you."

He stood up and accepted the clipboard. "Why me?"

"Because I know you're quite athletic already—quiet, Phillip," she hissed before he could comment. "You and Maggie both competed in the summer tournament, both got the gold in your respective categories, so I know what you're capable of. But if either of you do need help with assignments, please lean on each other."

"Only action goth boy's gonna get," Phillip snorted.

"Blake, give me twenty around the gym, and the rest of you can watch." Sasha crossed her arms. "We have twenty minutes left, so you'd better hurry. I can keep you over if I have to."

"You gotta be shitting me—"

"That's thirty. Keep it up."

He scoffed. "Does she have to do them too?" He pointed to his partner Jeanette. "She's my partner."

"The partnerships don't kick in until tomorrow." She smiled sweetly. "Now go."

He scoffed again but complied, knowing she'd run him into the ground if she wanted. "Bitch," he whispered as he hurried to finish up these laps.

"Okay, if anyone has any questions or concerns, please come and find me. Or ask me now." Sasha announced. "I like my free period, so please try not to bother me then."

Carol chuckled and looked at Michonne. "I'm so glad I'm with you."

"Me too. I thought I'd get Phillip or worse—Tobin."

"What's so bad about Tobin? He's sweet."

She set a hand on her shoulder. "Carol, honey, he's one tall glass of boring. Sweet, yes. Boring? On a level you cannot understand. He talked to me once, and I hope he doesn't repeat it."

"Oh, come on. We had study hall together last year. He lent me pens all the time."

"You didn't actually talk, though, right?"

"No." She shook her head. "Mr. Monroe doesn't allow talking, only studying."

"Be grateful for that."

"You're so mean."

"I'm honest."

"The truth can hurt."

"And it can also set you free."

She rolled her eyes but laughed. "You're a dork."

"We're both dorks now. P.E. dorks."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"Probably." She nodded.

"Whoo." She pumped a fist weakly and unenthusiastically.

"I'll say whoo." She whirled around and cupped her hands together. "Move it, Blake! We don't have all day to finish the first lap!"

He glowered at her, but he didn't dare speak least Williams load him with more laps.

Carol giggled. "He's gonna get you for that."

"He'll try." She nudged her. "Let's go find Andrea and Shane and see if we're gonna stop by the snack machine at break."

"I could use a Kit-Kat." The anxiety of waiting to be called on nearly killed her after all.

– – –

Horvath's America At War began with assigned seats, Carol was nowhere near Andrea or Michonne, who were just about right behind each other, and she found herself in the back of the class with Daryl Dixon on one side of her and Phillip Blake on the other. She didn't know how in hell that'd happened, but she suddenly wanted to go back and take her mother's maiden name. Or hell, anyone else's that didn't begin with C!

She swallowed and glued her vision to the syllabus passed back to her, rubbing the back of her neck with her fingertips. It wasn't relaxing her at all, and she felt like throwing up. She was trapped between the two worst people in the world to be trapped between. The sexist pig and the broody mute. How was she going to survive the next eighteen or so weeks like this?

"Carol?" Dale called to her, and she lifted her head. "Are you all right? You look...flush."

"I'm fine." She tried to smile but failed miserably.

"Do you want to see the nurse?"

"No, no, sir. I'm okay. Really."

"Do you want me to get your mother?"

She blushed and stared with horrified eyes. "No, sir, I'm really okay. But thank you." She dropped her eyes to the paper before her once more. If anyone was curious about having your parent work at your school, it sucked. Especially when they asked that fucking question. No. It would always be no. She could be dying on the floor, and not want her mother there. Why did they always have to ask that fucking question? God. It was so embarrassing!

He moved on and began to discuss the syllabus.

"Hey, Carol?" Phillip tapped her light gently with his machanical pencil.

She looked over at him tenatively. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're all right? You do look a little pale."

She smiled at the gentle concern in his voice. "I'm okay."

"So, you don't need your mommy?" he cruelly mocked her. "Or a blankie? How about a pacifier?"

She glared at him, hating herself for not seeing his true purpose behind asking, and she was too flustered to reply, so she rolled her eyes to cover the tears forming there. God, could it get any worse? She wiped at her eye, seeing Daryl studying her, and she felt like melting into a puddle. This was the worst day in the history of her high school experience. When would it end?

The bell rang, it was time for first lunch, and Carol lingered in the class room for a moment to calm herself down. She told Michonne and Andrea she'd catch up to them, that she had to ask Mr. Horvath about the type of paper he wanted them to have. An obvious lie, but they understood and headed out.

She buried her face in her hands and snuffled. When this day was over, she would be truly happy. She dropped her hands and stood up, collecting her things and discovering someone lingering with her. She couldn't breathe at the sight of him, and she wanted to cry even more now.

"He's a prick." Daryl made an effort to look in her eyes. "Don't let him bother you."

"He didn't."

"Lair."

"I'm wearing fake lashes. They irate my eyes," she lied. "You don't know me."

"I think I know you pretty well." An arrogant smirk crossed his lips, and she felt peeling off her flesh. "But hey, I'm just a kid in the back of the class." He shrugged and strolled out of the room.

"You—" she cut off, trying to not get his attention, trying not to start a fight. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it.

"I?" He was holding the door open. "I what?"

"You're an asshole, Daryl Dixon." She stormed by him, hitting him with her shoulder, and she sped towards the cafeteria, hearing him chuckle and comment on that. She rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration. The amount of rude fucking people at this school, I swear to God!

"Someone's pissed." Michonne lowered a chip from her mouth. "What is it?"

"Asshole Blake and—and that Dixon... Ugh. I hate guys at this school. Immature jerks." She slammed her binder down on the table, catching the attention of the people sitting further down from them. "I think I'll transfer out of Horvath's, trade it out for my English course. I'll take Dale next semester."

"What? No." Andrea frowned. "It's the only class I have with all three of us, and I have some pull. Dale's like my uncle. He'll totally give us an easy time. You know me, and that's enough that he'll let things slide. Plus he played the mom card with you. He already pities you."

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

"Hey, were you okay?" Michonne crossed her legs. "You didn't look comfortable at all. You were flush."

"I was. I am." She tucked hair behind her ear. "I'm gonna grab lunch. What are we having?"

"One side is hot dogs, the other is hamburgers." Andrea held up her hamburger. "Salad in the middle."

She nodded. "Salad it is."

Andrea watched her saunter off to grab her lunch and pried open her milk. "She's not okay."

"Not by a long shot." Michonne opened the baggie containing her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "She hasn't been since the party, you know it?"

"W—why would I? It was just a party. We were all out of it, drunk and...yeah. I mean, no. Wait, like, did she say something to you?" She felt her heart begin to race. "Or...something?"

Michonne stared at her, both confused by the babbling and concerned for her friend. "No. Should she have?"

"No." She answered too quickly, so to cover she shoveled in her hamburger. Michonne didn't stop staring at her. "What?" She spoke with a full mouth.

"Am I the only one who's not falling apart?"

"I'm not." Lori dropped down beside them. "Where's my sister?"

"Salad line." Andrea downed her bite of burger with cola. "And are you ditching class?"

"No, 'course not. I switched out of P.E. for Home Eco, so I'm with you guys in that period and lunch now." She dug her lunch out of her purse. "Pringle anyone?"

"Yes." Andrea accepted a few and licked the dust off her fingertips. "Hmm, we have a question."

"What about?" She twisted the cap off the sprite she'd gotten at break and drank from it.

"What's up with your sister?"

"She's a tiny ball of anxiety and low self-esteem," she replied. "She's also a sophomore in high school. That's a lot to take on for a sixteen year old. Plus she's a Gemini, so she's super weird because of that."

"And I'm a Sagittarius," Andrea retorted. "What difference does that make?"

"All the difference." She opened the can of Pringles and nodded to Carol who was coming back.

"What are you doing here?" Carol popped open the plastic container her salad resided in.

"Schedule change. We know have third together, so first lunch here I am." She grinned wickedly and crunched down on a chip.

"She's a lazy hoe." Michonne rephrased. "She didn't want to take P.E."

"Yet. I'll have to take it, but not this semester. I have it next—with Ford."

"Transfer back to Williams," Andrea advised. "Ford is murder. He is cruel and will work you like you're straight up in boot camp. Don't do it. Sasha is easy and nice and can relate to you. She understands when your ankle is sprained that you need to rest it. Ford just makes you hobble around on the other to avoid further injury."

"I'm sure you're over exaggerating." She shrugged a shoulder. "Besides I can't. Mom won't let me without a legitimate excuse. I'm out of 'em, so Ford it is. If he kills, he'll have to fight her. She can take him."

"Or your dad can."

Carol busted out laughing, and so did Lori and Andrea and Michonne, who made the comment. Axel was a great guy with strong believes and a good heart, but he wasn't a fighter. He would crumble like a box if he had to fight anyone, least of Ford. It would leave Karen a widow and the girls fatherless. It wouldn't be pretty either. Out of the two of them, Karen was the fighter. And Lori—for Carol. She was too meek to really fight for herself. They hoped she grew out of it. Since she hadn't in elementary school, they were shooting for once she was out of high school. If not then well, perhaps college?

– – –

The rest of the school day blew by, Karen had the girls go home with Michonne and her mom, as she lived a couple blocks from them, and Karen had to finish up some things. They said goodbye to Michonne and headed inside, Lori went upstairs to her bedroom, and Carol headed downstairs to hers. She dropped her backpack on the chair in the corner and dropped onto the bed to decompress, hugging her butterfly pillow to her chest.

She was happy she had won the basement bedroom argument. It wasn't between siblings so much as her and her dad. Lori didn't want anything to do this place. She wanted her own room with windows and sunlight, and she didn't want to move the big ass frame attached to her bed. She adored that frame, and she didn't want to damage it on the move down two flights of stairs. She knew their parents and herself could hardly lift the damn thing, so no moving it. She was content anyway with her free space.

After sharing a room since age two, they decided on the day of their 8th grade graduation that they needed separate rooms. They were growing up in differently directions, such as Carol adored plants and filled the entire house with them—even the bathroom—and Lori adored clothes and music. Carol said her music depressed her plants, and they bickered over it. That was when the solution came to them. That, and Mom telling Dad he needed to clean the basement and garage out. Also that they needed to hush or be grounded.

So, they made a deal with Dad. They would clean it up, box up anything personal and sell what wasn't. They mostly ended up throwing it away since it was junk not even collectors could want. They then installed some more lights, as Lori's behest, and they knocked out part of the wall for a window for Carol's plants. They painted it, moved her things down, and now it was Carol's room. Extra junk went on Dad's workbench. Or in Mom's "supply" closet, which was just a junk closet. They have to clean it out every few years or it'll pour out and crush the unsuspecting. It happened to Michonne when she opened the wrong door to fetch Carol a towel to help clean up spilled pop.

Carol loved how isolated it was from the rest of the house, especially now. She needed some time to herself. The hectic chaos of a first day could wait until she...settled her thoughts. She had far too many of them right now. She buried her face in her pillow and whined.

"Hey, kiddo."

Shit. She sat up. "Dad."

"Your mom told me you were feeling sick in Horvath's class?" He stood in the middle of the steps, not technically in her bedroom, but not technically out.

"I'm okay. I'm ready to eat dinner and go to bed. Can it just be that simple?"

"It can be, but you've been acting weird all day. Is something wrong? Is it...your period? Before you go off on me, I know it doesn't affect you all the time, but you do get in moods sometimes."

"Because I'm kind of, you know, in pain."

"Er, are you now?"

"No."

"Well...then you might be soon. It's about that time. I'll ask your mom to swing by the store on the way home." He tapped his thumb on the railing. "Do you want to talk about your day? Did something happen?"

"Just a boring day in high school, Dad. That's all. I'm ready for the longest nap ever."

He chuckled. "Stick with us a bit longer. I'm making taco shells for dinner, and there's ice cream."

"I do have to water my plants. Lisa's looking a little dry." She smiled at his smile. "And I should check on Amy. She's out with the flu."

"Poor kid."

"Yeah, Andrea's trying not to catch it. She wears a mask around the house and lives on vitamins."

"That sounds like her." He checked his watch. "I should start dinner soon. Your mom's had an appetite the last couple days."

"'Cause she stays up working on her assignments for the semester," Lori spoke from behind Axel. "And she forgets to eat until dinner."

"Sounds like someone else we know." His eyes moved to Carol.

"I eat," she protested. "I snack all the time."

"Then help me snack on these chips and catch up on a TV show." Lori slipped by Axel and plopped on the bed. "You know you want to."

"I actually just want a nap," she confessed. "Can we watch it tomorrow?"

She sighed. "Okay, but I'm coming down early for yoga." She hopped up. "I'll help you with dinner."

"Why can't you and Mom do yoga together?" Carol groused. "You both do it super early anyway."

"Because I like it down here. The plants and low lighting set the mood." She smiled. "You should join me."

"I bend like a sheet of metal," was all she said.

"Party pooper." She headed upstairs with her dad.

Party. Carol cringed at the word. She hated the word party. Her first and last experience was at Tobin's end of school bash. He invited their entire class, and they invited people who invited people who brought beer and wine coolers and a keg. Mom dropped them off when it was calm party then all those people came. The music began to blare, people were pushing each other all over the place dancing, and there were no rules. Not a single one. Carol's want to let loose and have a little fun was feed by that energy...God.

She slid off the bed and walked over to the full length mirror, tossing a blanket over it. She didn't want to see herself. She was so angry at herself. It was her first high school party, and it should have been a blast. It should have been calm or whatever, but it wasn't. She wasn't. She wanted to be someone else, and she suceeded. She went too far, and she did something so incredibly stupid. She hated herself for it. Her first party wasn't supposed to be like that. It wasn't supposed to leave her feeling this way. It'd been weeks since the party, months even and she still felt like this. Disgusted and irked and so damn sad. So many things had changed that night, and she couldn't keep it all in anymore.

Andrea wouldn't talk about it. Michonne didn't know about it. Lori was busy dancing the night away with a few friends to notice it. That left Carol to replay the events brought on by beer and wine coolers alone. What she did, what happened that night, how she felt about it now. All of it kept creeping up on her. It was nothing illegal, but...honestly with how she felt, it might as well have been.