I finally decided to name my new pipe Malachite instead of ElsAnna yaaaaay.
This was inspired by the song Don't Stand So Close To Me
Elsa Clark liked to think herself well to do.
Or well off. Or whatever- she had a nice life, kay? She was the only child of the upper-middle-class Clark's, and thusly had a comfortable, quiet life. Daddy was a banker, and she didn't know much other than that but his job provided a few luxurious perks. They had a pool. A big oaf of a golden retriever. She had her own car.
Things of that nature.
Beyond just that, however, she was blessed with intellect. She was gorgeous AND popular. Which, ok, so maybe being popular isn't all THAT important as long as you're happy, right? But her popularity didn't make her unhappy so it counted. She wasn't really selfish. Only so much as a high school girl ever is. So she did get everything she wanted. She was content. She was comfortable.
Well to do or whatevs...
And she really liked to consider herself as happy, you know? That is to say, she wasn't UNhappy, ok? She wasn't, she didn't sit around moping all day, all woe-is-me-what-a-world-what-a-world. And maybe she didn't really feel all that much you know... Brief moments of joy when appropriate, along with sadness anger all that bull... but she didn't really feel all that much about really anything.
BUT, despite that, she liked to think she was happy anyway! Because she was lucky. She had a nice life; so what if she didn't feel happy, at least she didn't feel awful! That meant something. At least it did to her. She was ok. Things were all ok. And sure she wanted them to be great but Jesus, she was just eighteen she had time to pursue those lofty goals.
She was good. She was content. Basically happy. Almost, anyway. And she never even noticed that something was missing. Because as far as she'd known, nothing was. She had all she needed right at her fingertips. Everything the light touched was hers and that was good that was wonderful life is simple.
Err... well, was simple.
It was the first day of her last semester as a high school senior. She'd been walking with one of her companions and she'd been... ok, so she'd kinda been starting to tune her friend, Ariel, out. No offense to her, just that she could listen to the girl swoon over the boy she might ask out already only so many times before it got old.
So she'd been tuning Ariel out and while she hummed and hawed at all the right times, eyes roving the parking lot, she noticed this sexy car she'd never seen at the school before and got curious.
"Ok, hun? Huney bunch? I love you, but shut up for a sec and tell me if you know that car?" Ariel does look miffed to be interrupted but she's an unusually sweet sort so she shrugs it off.
"I don't know it... but..."
"But?"
"Well, I heard from Yuki that Mr. Barnes broke his knee or his leg. Or had something like, happen with his leg... I wasn't paying attention," she laughs, almost embarrassed. "But yeah, some shit with his leg and he'll be out all semester so... substitute? Replacement?"
"Yeah one or both probably," Elsa agrees, frowning. She'd been waiting to have Mr. Barnes since freshman year. The last year he taught any grade except seniors. He was only the single greatest teacher since, like, ever. "Well that sucks. Did Yuki tell you anything else?"
"... So did you miss that part where I said I wasn't really paying attention?" She wants to be angrier but she's not. She just laughs and shakes her head.
"Well listen up, Gingy," she pokes Ariel as she says this. Because it annoys her and Elsa likes annoying her friends. "I was seriously looking forward to Barnes' so I'ma go check out this mystery box of a teacher."
"Mystery... box?"
"Seriously," she laughs as starts walking backwards, cautiously. "Watch some television every once in a while."
"That stuff will rot your brain!" Ariel calls after her, grinning. She's already turned to walk right, so she only chuckles and shakes her head, throwing a hand up in a brief wave. Either in response to the comment or to genuinely wave goodbye she leaves up to Ariel's imagination. She's got a mission.
People - mostly seniors and juniors - throw up waves or call out greetings as she passes by, heading for the front entrance to the school. She's smiling politely and nodding, to the few she knows well she actually calls back. But she doesn't stop and no one gives chase so that she pushes one of the double doors open and slips into the rotund entry hall, pausing only then to consider which route to take. Barnes had been in the Quads once, but since the addition of the East Wing, he'd gotten his own brand spanking new classroom.
She goes straight into what she likes to think of as the main thoroughfare, quickly cutting a right through what used to be a back hallway(still is a back hallway), veering around a giggling group of freshman milling about before the drama classroom, slowing slightly to walk almost leisurely through the windowed connecting corridor of New and Old, and finally she comes upon the library entrance and the far side downstairs hall of the New East Wing.
A plain plaque, white background with bold black lettering, marks the classroom of Barnes. 'What should have been.' she thinks. She stalks over, hating that it's still his comics pertaining to books and grammar that are pasted over the single window next to his door. Two years lounging around in his classroom on lunch breaks and during any free period, waiting for the day he'd be her teacher again...
Wasted.
It brought a bitter taste to her mouth. It set a scowl to her face. She knocked, attempting for politeness... but was ignored. YES, ignored; she could hear someone in there, talking it sounded like. Sucking her teeth, blowing out a breath, she opens the door wide and steps forth into-
'Whaaat the fuck.'
There's. No way to say it delicately... This substitute might be the worst singer in the history of bad singers. The literal WORST. There's a pair of bright pink ear buds stuck firmly in his ears blasting what she's assuming had to be Roxanne, due to his very passionate butchering of the song. No, seriously, it's SO bad. She thought butcher but she meant slaughter. Quite literally laughably horrible, but especially so when he starts hopping around and dancing on the balls of his feet, tossing his head back and forth as he wails along with Sting.
Sting would be insulted. Miss Elsa Clark swings her backpack off her shoulder, takes a seat with a grin and watches the show. She takes note of him, this mysterious sub with his dance moves and his tone deafness. He's tall, REALLY tall, sporting dark slacks and a starched white shirt, though the collar isn't as crisp as it could be, and his bright red tie is all askew. But then again, that could have a lot to do with his impeccable(hilarious) dancing skills. That could, in fact, have absolutely everything to do with those skills.
Or really lack there of.
She finally finds herself snorting with laughter, and then flushing nearly as bright red as Mr. Substitute's tie as she glances around to make sure the room is still empty. She usually tries to subdue her laughter to avoid such unattractive sounds. But, she supposes that in this instance such graceless noise would be fine. No one to hear her shame, after all.
"Oh jeez!" She blinks, glancing sharply up(when had she stopped paying attention?) to meet-
' Ok. Wow.'
She flushes bright red again. He's. Ok. So. He's. He's gorgeous. If there is such a thing as a handsome woman, then she feels very little foolishness saying this is a beautiful man. Dear Christ on a cracker. His eyes are positively glowing with energy. A bright, brilliant sea foam. And she's never seen so many freckles on a grown man's face. So maybe she's sheltered or maybe he's a ginger that likes the sun. He's certainly tanner than she is. His hair was reminiscent of rust in the sunlight and his angular jaw was covered in a fine layer of blood red hair. And, oh yeah, he was starting to turn pink in the cheeks and it was. It was fucking adorable.
"... please tell me you didn't witness that?" His voice sounds just a touch rough, as if he'd been singing horribly off-key for a few hours. He pulls at an ear bud and it pops out, dangling by his hips bringing only brief attention to his phone, or iPod or whatever-it-is he's listening to music on, just sticking out of his front pocket. She doesn't mean to be so slow about dragging her eyes back up to meet his but by the time she finally does her cheeks have cooled(slightly) and she's managed to find some amount of her usual sass.
So she's wearing an incredibly amused grin and cocking one brow up high. She asks,
"What do you think?"
He groans. God it's a throaty sound and it hits her pretty hard. Maybe someday if she believes hard enough, she'll never blush again like she is now. Not that he notices (small favors), too busy cradling his own flushed face in his hands.
"Oh jeez," he's muttering, mostly to himself, "What a grand first impression to make on a potential student..." His head whips up and he steps a little closer, eyes sparkling and face full of hope. "You're just here to visit a teacher, right? Barnes?"
"Well," she's grinning and it's entirely too huge and self-satisfied. "I was here visiting my homeroom, and the teacher I'm to have this next semester. And it WAS Barnes but alas he's not here, won't be for the whole school year, and then I happened upon your little show..."
He groans again and she's no more prepared for it than she was the previous one, but the delightful chill that dances up her spine is at least a little more familiar. He slumps himself down into the nearest seat to hang his head. She wonders, giggling quietly, why such a dramatic man isn't the drama teacher. Especially when he heaves a sorrowful sigh and looks up at her, pouting and petulant. It almost looks as though his bottom lip is quivering.
"You're not going to tell on me to the other students, right?"
"Hmmm, it's tempting," she admits, shrugging and slowly roving her eyes around the room before settling them back on him. He looks horrified and she almost snorts again. "I'm kidding. Your secret is safe with me." She mimes zipping her lips shut, locking them and throwing away the key, followed with a wink that ISN'T all that saucy. Well, not really anyway. Not very. Only a little. Somewhat.
And if he keeps up that groaning she's going to have a serious problem. He stands very suddenly, nearly knocking the chair he'd momentarily claimed right onto its hard plastic back, but he's grinning like he's won the biggest damn prize and she can't help grinning back. He strides forward and on those long legs of his it doesn't take very long to reach her.
"Well!" He begins, too cheery for it to be so early and in such a hellish place as a high school. He holds out a hand for her to shake and she hesitates only a moment before pressing her palm to his. And his hands are huge, warm and only slightly calloused. "I believe this is the start of an excellent student-teacher friendship."
And for some reason she tries to be as firm in her handshake as possible, wanting in some way to impress him. And she does; the next thing he says is,
"That's an excellent handshake you've got there, miss...?"
"Clark!" She blurts out. Then, "Like the Kent. But, you know, I'm not, I'm not him or anything. Obviously. I don't even look like him! And I mean Superman is great and all but I'm not that much a fan, I really prefer Batman so I guess it's kind of a bad comparison..." Holy shit she needed to stop shaking his hand and babbling. She does just that, pulling her hand away and smiling a rather nervous smile. "... And I'd really just prefer Elsa."
"My that's a beautiful name. It very much suits you-" had he just? "I'm Alexander. Like The Great. But I'm much less an accomplished conqueror and much more of a whiny drama queen, not to mention a professional opera singer!" He winks at her and she chuckles and rolls her eyes. "And I really prefer any shortened version of my name, but you'll mostly have to call me Mr. Gray."
"Mostly?"
"Weeeell, on accounts of we bein' good friends n sich, I might let you get away with my first name, so long as it's not in front of the rest of the students."
"I think I can do that," she couldn't stop smiling if she'd wanted to. And she really didn't want to. He nods, eyes pretending to be serious but grinning all the while.
"You better or we can't be friends!" And that just wouldn't do.
"Then I absolutely will keep it safe and secret. Like my knowledge of your dance moves." He winces almost in perfect time with the shrill shriek of the first bell telling everyone to run to homeroom.
"I get this awful feeling you won't let me forget the terrible, great secrets you witnessed this morning..." He grumbles, shoulders slumping slightly. His smile returns before she can confirm or deny anything, and he just shrugs. "Ah well! Gotta finish my board work before the stampede!" And turns on his heel to head back to the board. He's only halfway there before he stops quite suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Oh yeah!" He turns back around to give her the glow of his forever smiling face. "Not that it matters, but you'd make a way better Harley Quinn anyway."
hi. I'll update this when I fucking feel like it. Also it's two thirty in the morning and I'm tired and have to get up in a few hours to drive four hours back to my own backwards, trans-hating state. Surprise visit to mum for mum's day n all. It's fun but the ride to and from kill me... so I'll fucking fix mistakes some other time. So forgive them, get over them, or point them out. K thanks.
Peace out ninjas.
