Cassandra Crane slid unhappily from her seat in the sleek, black Buick, and towards the building which had been a center of torture for her since turning 14.
Gotham High.
"Well, then. . .Have a pleasant day," said the beautiful woman in the car, as if speaking to a stranger. The woman's name was Dr. Evelyn Hallows, Cassandra's mother. She had short strawberry blonde hair, full pink lips and big brown eyes that should have been filled with warmth.
She did not smile as she spoke to her daughter.
Cassandra grunted slightly in reply and pushed the door shut. She stared at her white sneakers as she listened to her mother drive away, tires squealing.
Cassandra was a tall girl, around 5'9. She was thin and slightly curvy, but had always felt she was just a gangly geek compared to her model-like mother. She wore a pair of thinly rimmed glasses, propped up on the bridge of her pleasantly shaped nose. Her eyes were large, almond shaped and a dark shade of blue; framed by long, dark eyelashes. Her brown hair was back-length and slightly unkempt, though she never tried much to make lay otherwise.
Cassandra looked around the prison of "learning" she entered every day and selfconciously tugged at her dark pink, turtle neck sweater, which seemed too long for her. She wandered away from the sidewalk, and towards a bench she always liked to sit on; beneath one of the few oak trees on the grounds. Her right knee bobbed up and down nervously as she waited for the schoolweek to begin again, only imagining what humilations her Junior year would bring. Nothing but the sound of early morning communters could be heard, the usual bustling city of Gotham.
Opening up her brown leather book bag, she let her elegant fingers run along the spines of her textbooks, and felt a moment of calm. The feel and smell of new books always made her feel a little cheerful. She stroked them like cats and unconciously took note of how early she was; because only the "Teacher's Pet's" were just begining to arive, many of them glared at Cassandra as they passed. Whether out of envy or hatered she was never sure, and after so many years of it she didn't care.
"Hey, Crane!" a rediculously shrill female voice called out.
Cassandra turned slowly to look at Lauren Beckins, who was walking towards her with a spring in her step.
Not exactly the typical Barbie, head cheerleader; mean-girl type.
She was pretty, there was no denying that. With her long, glossy black hair that was always done in ringlets. Bright green eyes, made more vivid by the black eyeshadow and mascara which was her trademark. And despite living in damp and dreary Gotham City, she was always tan.
Lauren was a volleyball superstar, incredibly fit, and one of the school's shinning intellectual stars. Second only to Cassandra; which annoyed her beyond reason.
"Lauren," Cassandra greeted with a sigh.
At one point her and Lauren had been close friends. But where Cassandra was distant and focused on school, Lauren was an extroverted soul and loved having a large number of fans. As they'd reached High School they grew steadily apart. At first their battles of wit were friendly, but they'd slowly become more and more intense and competitive as the scholarships to Gotham University and jobs at renowned institutions were put on the line. Both of them were smart, from well off families and, even if Cassandra never admitted it, very pretty. But Lauren had both her parents, her mother loved her, and her father wasn't Johnathan Crane.
Cassandra was torn from her dismal train of thought as Lauren was joined by her girl-jock cronies.
She looked from the equally tan and overly made-up faces of each memeber before giving another sigh and saying rather coldly, "I assume you've prepared some new and perhaps some original insults you wish to try out?"
Some of the girl's just smiled, others looked annoyed and because of these reactions; Cassandra knew she'd guessed correctly.
"That's an astute assumption Cassie," Lauren said, smiling.
Cassandra actually let herself sneer, "Well, lets hear them then. Because unlike some of us," she emphasized, "I don't have to meet with the lovesick nerds to make sure mywork is correct."
Lauren's face turned red, her cronies backed away quickly. "What did you say?"
She laughed without humor, "I've seen you tossing your hair back and batting your eyes at them. For guys who are supposed to be so smart they're pretty naive don't you think? Fawning over you." Cassandra scoffed, "Is this a lack of confidence or some need for attention?"
"Are you accusing me of cheating, Crane?" she snapped.
Cassandra smirked wickedly and raised an eyebrow, "Not accusing," she said simply, "Just implying."
And with that she turned on her heels and walked away. She heard Lauren spitting something unintelligible behind her, and Cassandra felt her lips pull back in an even larger smile.
Ah smiling, she hadn't done that in days.
She pushed all thoughts of her former friend from her mind and headed to her first class, Social Studies.
The morning went by mechanically.
After every class Cassandra would move as fast as she could towards her locker, trying not to bump into anyone. However, there was always one person who insisted on tailing her.
"Good morning, Lewis," she said.
It may as well have been a recording, she said it every day. The boy with the sandy blonde hair beamed at her recognition.
"And a lovely morning to you, Cassie." His bright smile reached his green-blue eyes, and Cassandra had to force herself not to return the smile.
"I think you're a little earlier then usual this time," she said, hunching up her shoulders so as not to be infected by his happiness.
Lewis's smile widened, "I just had to see you at least once today." He frowned suddenly and said, "I feel like you've been trying to avoid me."
"Now what on Earth would give you that idea?" she asked blandly.
"Well the cold attitude, the doubled efforts to get to your locker," he counted them off on his fingers. "The stealthiness. You peek over your shoulder quite a bit, Cassie," Lewis tutted, "doesn't exactly help your subtlety."
"I don't have time to talk," she said, becoming annoyed quickly.
"Oh please," Lewis said, sounding a little annoyed himself.
Cassandra perked up and looked at him, she'd never heard him sound like this before.
"Why do you refuse conversation from someone who genuinely wants to talk to you?" he asked throwing his arms up slightly. "I care about getting to know you, not your brain, Crane."
He knew immediately that he'd made a mistake by mentioning her last name. Even some of the nearby students turned their heads to look. As Cassandra's shoulders and neck stiffened one could almost feel the drop in temperture.
Cassandra straightened herself up to her full hight and glared at him. This was easy, he was not even an inch taller then she was. Lewis's eyes widened slightly, the ice that rimmed her eyes was enough to make anyone quake.
"You know I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Cassie, I honestly don't care what you're called, I told you, this isn't some psychological experiment or evaluation. . ." Her eyes continued to bore into his, frosty and unwavering.
"I'm sorry!" he said, his voice suddenly high pitched, "You can't hold this against me forever can you?" This last bit was almost a whine.
Cassandra sniffed and looked down her nose at him. How a boy of 17 could act like a child was beyond her. This wasn't to say he was immature. On the contrary, Lewis was one of the more mature people she'd ever met; it was his emotions and how he handled them. He was very kind and always talked to her, but sometimes his easily hurt feelings annoyed her.
"I might," she growled.
She only hoped he didn't know that she didn't mean a word of it. At least not to him.
They didn't break eye contact. Lewis with his backpack slung over his shoulder, and looking very down-trodden and Cassandra, books clutched against her chest and glaring fiercely.
"I have class," she stated flatly, still not looking away.
"Science, we take it together. R-remember?" he asked nervously.
Cassandra closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and let it out through her nose. "Yes, unfortunately I do."
Lewis was begining to look hopeful, "Then, shall I acompany you?"
"If you must," she groaned in reply, finally caving.
I must find a better way of shaking him off, she thought to herself as she turned and left.
Lewis was practically skipping as he followed Cassandra to the classroom; which was filling up a great deal as they entered.
"Who'd have thought you of all people would be the last to show up for Science, I thought it was your favorite subject?" Lauren called from across the room. Their eyes met briefly, Lauren looking very smug. "I didn't know you and Dodgson were together."
"Ooooh," one of her companions sighed mockingly, "Kissing in the halls? Casting loving glances as you part for your lockers?" Laughs erupted from the clique.
"If I was so dolt-like that I focused more on a useless relationship then my studies at least I'd have better taste in intelligence, Amanda," Cassandra spat back, "I hear your boyfriend, what's his name? Michael? I heard he got held back a grade. . .again."
Amanda's face grew red, "Well. . .its not everythingCrane!"
"Yes it is," Cassandra snorted, looking disdainful.
"Don't deny it Cassie," Lauren purred from the corner, "You'd just killif you could walk with a boy on your arm." More giggles."Its so cute, the way he follows you around like a little, lost puppy," Lauren continued, a wicked gleam in her eye, "Even if he is the biggest weirdo to ever walk the halls of Gotham High."
Cassandra stepped forward threateningly and she was sure she saw some of the group flinch away. "He's not a freak," she heard herself hiss.
"Just like you, Cassie, to stand up for him. You really are two of a kind."
"What do you-" Cassandra began but was interupted by the teacher, who had walked into the room to find the school's two smartest girl's at each other's throats.
Anyone who remained standing was quickly ushered to their chairs. Cassandra and Lauren gave each other hateful glances as they passed.
Lewis did not seem to take any notice, he just stared off into space; looking wistful. This irked Cassandra.
"Whats the matter with you?" she asked him as they sat down.
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking surprised and a little upset.
She blinked, "Never once in a day that I've known you have I ever seen you fight back. You just let these people walk over you without a word! At least when someone comes at me I make them regret it later."
He gave her a small smile, looking like he'd just been asked a silly question by a small child. "But why would I want to instigate a battle of meaningless words? My dear Cassie, I am no fool when it comes to these quips, but honestly such people are not worth my time." Looking flustered at his indifference to the situation, Cassandra began to stutter. He held up his hand for silence, looking a little worried.
"What?" Cassandra said in exasperation.
"Why does it bother youso much what these people think?"
Now there was an excellent question, one she'd never been asked before by anyone. Cassandra just sat there, staring at him; unable to think of a decent reply. Finally she looked down at her desk, hunched her shoulders and growled: "I just don't want people thinking they can get away with it, that's all!"
"Don't hunch," he sighed, "Its bad posture." The look she shot him could have incinerated.
"What are you? My mother? Because we all know how much shecares!" she snapped angrily.
"Keep your temper," Lewis said with a little smirk.
She didn't speak to him before any other class again after that.
It was raining heavily when school ended. Students ran for the busses and cars with their books and coats over their heads. Cassandra sat on the steps, shielded from the rain by the small roof. Her mother still hadn't arrived, and she didn't expect her to for a long time.
As the scuffling of the other teenagers faded away, Cassandra was surprised to see someone standing close to her. She craned her head up to look at Lewis.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Oh you know, I heard the bell, I saw people run for the door. Natural curiousity you know." He smiled in that infectious way and Cassandra quickly ducked her head.
He plopped down beside her, setting his backpack on his lap. "I assumed you would be long gone by now," Lewis said softly.
She shrugged, "Mom's not here yet."
He nodded and it was followed by a long span of silence. He knew better then to ask why.
The rain continued to pour, chilling the air and dampening their clothes and they both stared out at the schoolgrounds, neither saying a word but seeming to understand the other.
At long last a green van pulled into veiw and honked the horn. Lewis immediately stood up. He took a few steps before turning to look at Cassandra with a thoughtful smile.
"Would you like to come with us?" he asked, "We could drop you off at your place. . ."
Cassie felt her heart drop into her stomach. As much as she would love to go with Lewis and his mother, she was certain Evelyn would not be happy with her, or the Dodgson's.
"No. . .thanks, Lewis, really," Cassandra said quickly. The sad look that slid onto his face made her stomach feel all funny.
"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow," he said, forcing a smile. She watched him jump into the car and drive away, the rain still coming down. . .down. . .down.
Her hands were numbing to the cold and her hair was begining to plaster to her face as the rain continued to pour, steadily heavier, and her mother refused to show. Eventually, driven by anger, Cassandra tucked her books safely away, got to her feet and headed out onto the streets. Around her the world was nothing but a curtain of water from which drenched actors did their parts in a play she didn't know the lines to.
Two well dressed men arguing animatedly on a street corner. A group of young women, college students maybe? Were laughing and running to their car, shopping bags and purses flopping about. Children in bright rain coats and boots playing and splashing in puddles, uafraid of the dangers the streets of Gotham held. They were giggling, smiling. Happy.
They appeared to be friends, or maybe they were strangers. How odd it is, children so happy to be with their own kind, how easy it is for them while adults are so wary.
Maybe they were brothers and sisters too?
Cassandra felt herself drift into thoughts of her own childhood. When was the last time she'd felt that innocent?
When I was 5, a voice in her head said. It had been so long ago. Yes, she'd been 5, it was Fall and she'd been playing with the crows. . .
The memory hit her like a baseball bat to the head, blunt and painful.
She was squealing with glee, running around as the mob of crows flew in great circles around her. Her brown hair was cut short, chin length, and windswept. She flapped the long sleaves of her black coat as if pretending to be a crow herself. "
Look at me, I can fly!" she laughed.
The orange and gold leaves kicked up as she ran through them, determined to keep pace with the birds. The to big, thick rimmed glasses of her youth bounced on her nose, but she seemed to pay no mind. Panting she stumbled to a halt as the birds flew off into the woods and out of sight.
"Buh bye, birdies!" she called, smiling after them and waving both her arms.
A chuckle came from behind her, giving her a start. She turned to see a man sitting on a bench, a long brown overcoat hid his frame and a beat up, wide-brimmed hat sat upon his head.
"I'm sorry,"
he said, seeming genuinely so, "I didn't mean to scare you."
A younger Cassandra leaned forward and thought she saw a frown beneath the shadow of the hat. "Funny how that works, I suppose. . ." he said.
"You did't scare me," the little girl said, puffing out her chest and looking proud, "I don't scare easily."
He chuckled again. The man turned his gloved hand upward; there were seeds in it. One of the crows swooped down and latched onto his wrist, it cawed and began pecking at the food vigorously. "Oh!" Cassandra gasped, clasping her small hands together, "How did you do that?"
"Years of practice," the man said, tilting his head to the side and smiling a little.
"My name's Cassandra!" she said, so delighted by the trick with the bird that she skipped forward, "Cassandra Crane. What's yours?"
The stranger seemed to pause, "Cassandra, that's a nice name," he said softly, sounding a little sad.
Tilting her head in confusion, she asked again, "What's your name?" She couldn't understand why this man sounded so sad, why would he be when he could perform such miracles as to call to a bird and have it come? She would love to be able to do that.
"My name is John," he said, and that gentle smile came again, "Pleased to meet you, Cassandra Crane." She grinned ear to ear.
"Cassandra!"
Her face paled, and so it would seem, did the man's.
"Cassandra!"
The man stood up abruptly, causing the crow to caw angrily and flutter away.
"Cassandra, don't make me call you again!"
"Where are you going?" Cassandra asked, frowning at the stranger.
"I'm afraid. . ." he stopped himself, "I have to go now, Cassandra. Take a leave, as it were. It. . .it was very nice to meet you."
"Cassandra!" her mother the man was gone, as if he'd melted into the horizon.
"Ow!" Cassandra cried as her mother gripped her arm.
"Where have you been? I called you three times! Why didn't you answer?!" The little girl stared up into her mother's angry brown eyes and trembled.
"I was talking to someone," she whispered.
"What?" her mother snapped, looking around suddenly, "To who?"
"A-a-a man," she stammered, trying to break her mother's grip.
"How many time's have I told you not to speak to strangers? Hmm? How many times?" Evelyn Hallows voice rose.
"I'm sorry!" Cassandra cried, her eyes becoming wet.
"Don't you dare start crying here! I don't need a scene, thank you very much."
She practically dragged her small daughter across the park to where their car was, catching many stares as they went. So many times Cassandra wanted to look at them, pleadingly, but she kept her eyes down in an attempt to mask the tears that so dissapointed her mother.
Cassandra was frozen in the street, water dripping from her hair and slidding off her nose. Her glasses were fogged, blinding her, but she was to lost in the memory to pay any mind to reality.
When she finally came out of it she spluttered and mentally scolded herself for getting all wet and cold. Hands chilled to the bone, she gently removed her glasses and wiped the lenses clean before placing them back on. She gasped and jumped what she thought must have been a foot at least. Across the street, was a man in a large brown overcoat, with a beat up, wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face. And yet Cassandra had no doubt that he was looking right at her.