Disclaimer: I don't own, I rent.
Summary: AU The bohos are sophomores in high school! Canon couples, probably mostly Angel/Collins.
A/N: So, I decided to have a go at a high school fic! Yay! I don't know how well it's going to turn out, so I need reviews to keep me going! They might be a little OOC: attest it to the fact that they are teenagers rather than adults, and none of them have AIDS. Have fun reading!
"POOKIE!!"
The drama queen's voice rang out through the hallway as she ran up to Mark Cohen and practically tacklehugged him. He stumbled back into the wall, grinning widely, a blush tinting his cheeks. "Maureen!" Ignoring the giggles coming from nearby students, she gave her boyfriend a little peck on the lips, then drew back to peer around.
"Oh! Hey! It's Collins!" she exclaimed, waving at him energetically. Sure enough, the dark-skinned teen soon came pushing through the crowd to join them, wearing, as always, his knit cap.
"Isn't it a bit warm for that?" he questioned Mark by way of greeting, pointing to the scarf around the filmmaker's neck. It was August, after all.
Mark just shrugged and changed the subject by pointing off into the crowd again. "Look, there's Roger!"
Collins looked in the direction of his pointing and saw their angsty friend moving slowly through the crowd towards them. Roger seemed to be focused on putting one foot in front of the other, not looking around at all.
Maureen zipped out into the crowds and returned a moment later pulling Roger after her. "Were you gonna come say hi or what?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
"Oh… sorry…" he muttered, finally looking up at his friends. "I didn't see you."
All three of them knew exactly why he was so depressed this morning. Near the end of the last school year, his girlfriend, April Erickson, had killed herself. No one was entirely sure why, but it had left Roger devastated. As of a couple weeks ago, he'd finally been getting back to his normal self, but these halls must be bringing back memories.
Collins put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We're here for you, man. You know that, right?" Roger nodded wordlessly, focusing hard on a spot on the wall.
Maureen broke the silence by starting to babble on about the play for that year, though none of the others were really listening. They only really snapped out of it when
BRIIIIING!!!
The bell rang loudly and obnoxiously. "Seeya later, guys," Collins said, heading off to his first class. The others exchanged similar goodbyes and headed off.
Collins pulled his schedule out of his pocket, glancing at the first period. "Damn… math first thing in the morning on a Monday." he groaned and plodded off to the classroom. He was in advanced math, sure, not that he ever studied. He was just… 'gifted', as his teachers often put it.
He walked into the quiet classroom, everyone yawning and looking entirely exhausted. The young anarchist dumped his backpack next to an empty chair. Looking around, he saw that most of his classmates were juniors, with even a couple seniors. There were no other sophomores in the room. Oh, WONDERFUL. This is gonna be fun. he complained to himself, leaning back casually in his chair and waiting for the class to start.
Roger ambled into his first period, Latin, to see Mark already seated in the second row, staring in horror at the board. Every square inch of the white surface was literally /covered/ in writing, and none of the words meant anything to anyone. A single, big, underlined word at the top proclaimed: VOCABULARY.
The songwriter looked around at the other students as he made his way to sit next to Mark. His breath drew in sharply as his gaze fell on a beautiful Latina girl with long, curly brown hair. She was talking animatedly to a short-haired Latino boy sitting next to her; were they brother and sister or something? Roger's eyes fixated on her, despite the guilty feeling he was getting, like he was betraying April.
His dilemma was soon solved when he tripped over a desk with a crash, faceplanting into the ground. Laughter exploded around him as he slowly stood up. Face red, he quickly slid into his seat beside Mark. The filmmaker stopped snickering into his hand long enough to ask "You okay?" Roger nodded and glanced back at the girl he'd seen earlier; she hadn't seemed to notice his embarrassment, seemingly too involved in her conversation to be bothered.
He let out a sigh of relief and turned to face forwards again, just as the teacher came in. "Quiet!" she almost-yelled, slapping a ruler onto her desk. There was instant silence, everyone's eyes fixated on the teacher.
"Good. Now, see all these words on the board? Copy them down. You will be expected to learn them by next Friday; we will have a quiz on them. Do that now as I get your names." She waited while everyone pulled out their notebooks, the rustling of notebook paper filling the otherwise silent room.
Roger didn't pay attention to names except for when it reached the Latina girl and her friend. Then he listened intently for her name.
"Mimi Marquez," she stated, twirling a strand of bushy brown hair around her finger.
"And I'm Angel," the boy next to her added, deep brown eyes flickering around to look at all of them. A few whispers sprang up, but were quickly silenced with a glare from the teacher.
As the name-telling continued, all of the students hurried to finish copying down the notes. The rest of the class passed without incident.
Maureen had Language Arts first, much to her dismay. What was so interesting about some old guy with a funny name writing hard-to-understand plays? The only fun part was when she got to read and could act out her part; it was no fun answering stupid questions about what the writing meant or whatever.
The only thing interesting about the class was the girl she sat next to; Joanne Jefferson. The dark-skinned girl was stunningly beautiful, but also stunningly uptight. Despite Maureen's best attempts, the other had refused to talk to her during class. And yet, the drama queen was intrigued by this new girl, and determined with her usual stubbornness that she would find out more about her.
Second period came by, and Collins once again found himself alone, this time in Biology. The chairs were set up two to a counter. By the time Collins found the classroom, most of the seats were taken. The only open one was next to a petite Latino boy with short black hair.
Collins wove through the chattering masses and plopped down next to him. "Hi, I'm Collins. Tom Collins."
The other turned around and met Collins's eyes with his deep brown ones. "Hi. I'm Angel." They shook hands, and Collins felt a weird electric tingle go up his arm. Angel's eyes widened as he felt a similar tingle, and both blushed and quickly looked away.
"Nice to meet you, Collins." Angel said calmly, pretending like he wasn't blushing pink. Collins nodded and chuckled nervously. His heart rate sped up slightly as he glanced at Angel.
Now, let's just get something out of the way here. Collins knew he was gay. He'd known since the seventh grade. But he'd never really had a crush on anyone.
It seemed that that particular fact was about to change. This is gonna be an interesting year…
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