Author's Note: I'm new to this, so if someone would tell me how to format this, I would be extremely grateful. I think I've fixed it, but I'm not entirely sure. I could use help with the summary as well. Also, there is a small amount of swearing so if anyone objects to the rating, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy. Even if you don't see the Rob/Rae, I promise it'll be there.
Disclaimer: I own the world in which my story takes place and my word choice. Otherwise, regrettably, however much I love Robin, nothing is mine.
Ice cream and Secrets
Rachel imagined an energy field around herself to shelter her from her classmates. She'd tried to imagine herself in a different reality, but had been unable to maintain the image. It was only fifth period on the first day of school and denial was already dead. Reality insisted on its loud intrusions into her daydreams.
"In the name of fuck . . ."
"That ain't no way to learn me history!"
Rachel walked to her locker and felt seconds of her life drift away as she listened to her fellow students mutilate her native language. In one year, she'd have a high school diploma and an International Baccalaureate diploma and she would leave crowded hallways behind her forever. Maybe she'd even have a purple moped. Rachel did not know what her future would bring, but she was optimistic. All of life could not be the mixture of boredom, annoyance and perfectionist terror that was high school.
When she reached her locker, it was blocked a crowd of joyous, chatting friends, all too completely absorbed in their conversation to notice that their position was inconveniencing others. Rachel watched as another student tried to politely ask the crowd to let him through. Once, Rachel had been a polite, respectful student who would never push her way through a crowd. Now, she raised a hand to either side and walked forward, Moses parting the sea to reach her locker. She wished she could use telekinesis; it'd be a lot more fun. The crowd, noticing her for the first time, parted before her. Rachel took a moment to enjoy the feeling of power that came from parting crowds with a wave of her hand as she took her calculus book out of her messenger bag.
Having rid herself of the heavy book, Rachel set off for English.
In English, there was a seating chart that was very different from the one she would have chosen. On one side was Caleb, her "rival" and friend, at least in his mind. They were both near the top of their class and she regarded him with good intent that often ended in annoyance. Friendly and slightly ambivalent acquaintance was the best she could grant him. Rachel hoped that his proximity to her would prove to be helpful rather than irritating. She believed he'd matured in the past few years, but sometimes he was still the annoying younger sibling she never wanted. He liked to sneak up on her to try to startle her. He'd only scared her once, but she had reacted to the same degree she usually did. She didn't jump or scream; her shoulders tensed slightly and then she looked up at him. Caleb never knew he had actually won once. To Caleb's credit, he didn't try anything today. His entrance was uneventful. The same could not be said of the person who sat on the other side of her. The seat remained empty even after the bell rang.
The teacher, Mrs. Quin stood up, but to Rachel's surprise, didn't start the usual frighten the students with the difficulty of the class and go over the syllabus in mind numbing detail.
Instead, after the initial welcome, Mrs. Quin said, "We're starting with an activity to get to know the person sitting next to you. It's important you get to know each other because you will be partners for the rest of the semester. I want you to start by exchanging names and asking each other one question. I want you to think about the question for a moment, because I don't want it to be favorite color or number of pets. I want you to ask a question that really reveals something about who you are."
Rachel's partner was, to her relief and disappointment, an empty desk.
Then the classroom door flew open to admit a boy with dark, disorderly hair and bright blue eyes. Rachel looked at him, noticed the rest of the class gaping, and looked away, using her peripheral vision to satisfy her curiosity.
The new boy flashed a smile at the teacher.
"Sorry, Prof. I got lost. Then I went to room 221 instead of 122. The teacher there gave me directions, but either this is a hard classroom to get to or I'm terrible with directions, because I got completely lost. I finally wandered into the right room though," the boy said, aiming for and succeeding at charming rambling.
"At least I hope I did. Mrs. Quin, IB English HL 2?" he added.
"If you're Xander Davol, you're in the right place. Your seat's next to-"Mrs. Quin checked the seating chart "- Rachel Roth. Raise your hand Rachel."
Rachel raised a hand in a casual, disinterested wave and tried to will her blushing cheeks white. She could feel her classmates' eyes raking over her like claws.
Xander saw her embarrassment, but pretended not to notice. Shy meant handle with care. He slid into the seat next to her, gently met her eyes, and inclined his head slightly. When Rachel returned his nod, he smiled and looked away. Rachel let out a soft sigh of relief. The moment was over; she could breathe again.
"For those of you who arrived late," Mrs. Quin began with a look at Xander, "you're learning your partner's name and asking a significant question. We'll regroup in ten minutes." She gestured for the class to begin.
Rachel turned to Xander.
"Hi partner," she said.
"Hello, Miss Roth," he replied. "I'm Xander."
Rachel was young and female. She couldn't help it if some suppressed part of her heart responded to his smile and courtesy, but she shut it down.
"Call me Rachel." She grinned at him. "So, do you have a very significant question you're dying to ask me or shall I come up with something?"
"I do as a matter of fact." Xander grinned at her, a bit impishly. Rachel returned the look, beginning to forget her earlier shyness.
"Oh?" she asked, tilting her head at him. "Do tell."
Just then, Mrs. Quin came by to see how the questions were going. Xander reconsidered his question, but decided Mrs. Quin would be much easier to win over than Rachel and that he could still win over both of them.
"Well Rachel, if we're going to work together on English assignments, there's one question I must know the answer to: What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"
"Now, Xander," Mrs. Quin chided, "isn't that a bit of a superficial question?"
Rhetorical question. Strike one, Rachel thought. Xander didn't mind.
"You'd be surprised," he said. "Rachel?"
"Mint chocolate chip," she told him.
"Yum," he said. "Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, M&Ms? This is your ideal ice cream."
"Dark chocolate M&Ms without a doubt," Rachel replied. By now the class was watching. Xander knew, but Rachel was too engaged in the conversation to care.
"An excellent choice. Now, Mrs. Quin, the significance." Xander flashed Mrs. Quin his most charming smile, but his next words were addressed to Rachel. Looking into her eyes, he said, "The base ice cream is mint chip. It's cool, sophisticated, a bit understated but refreshing. M&Ms are fun and colorful. I'd say under the mint, you've got a playful, joyful, maybe even mischievous side. And dark chocolate . . . Underneath everything, you're rich and fulfilling. From your favorite ice cream, I think we'll get along rather well."
Mrs. Quin was speechless and the class was quiet. To everyone's surprise, Rachel laughed. Her laugh was light and warm.
"Well played," she laughed. "Symbolism, flattery, and show up the teacher. Congratulations on winning over the entire class."
"Thank you." Xander gave her a mock bow. "Now, I believe it's your turn to ask me a question."
Xander looked deep into her eyes, asking her not to remember the class and think about them thinking about her. He wasn't only arranging his own audition at the school; he was re-auditioning her. Eyes on me, he thought.
Rachel blinked thoughtfully, her chin still tilted inquisitively at him.
"Where do you wish you were right now?" she asked.
Images Xander worked hard to file away sprang to the front of his mind. His breath caught in his throat.
"What do you mean?" he asked, stalling.
Rachel smiled at him, a little sadly but not completely without mirth. Six billion people on the planet and most of them were just going through the motions of living, really. If someone cut away society the marionettes would collapse in on themselves and fall. It was almost funny.
"You're not the only one who can read your classmates. Students want to talk to their friends, travel the world, play video games. The one place they don't want to be is here. I, personally, would be in a café somewhere in Europe drinking Earl Gray tea – the good kind, loose leaf – and some sort of pastry with chocolate, looking out onto a busy cobblestone street. For company, I'd have either a good book or a good friend, maybe Jinx. Maybe I'd even be lucky enough to have both. What do you want that isn't in a public school English class?"
Now it was Xander who felt the pressure of the audience. Rachel had a splendid re-audition. Xander could see the girls dreaming of romantic corners of Europe and all of the students respecting her view of their English class. Unfortunately, Xander had earned a little bit too much attention with his question. He couldn't answer Rachel's question. He could barely think about it when he was alone let alone answer it with the class watching.
"An excellent question," Mrs. Quin said. "Xander, you did a brilliant job with the significance of ice cream. What do you say to Rachel's question?"
Xander took a deep breath with the lyrics "No good deed goes unpunished", from Wicked, echoing in his head.
Then, he smiled.
"There was this time John and I went to the mountains, allegedly to fish. Really, we just sat out in the middle of the lake. It was cold, but I could breathe, and it was . . . nice. We got caught in the rain on the way back and stopped for hot chocolate at some diner. It was pouring outside, but I was warm."
Xander met Rachel's eyes. He was surprised to see an odd brightness in them, like tears shining before they fall. He wondered what he'd said that he hadn't intended to.
"I wish I could stay then," he said.
"A lovely memory. Thank you for sharing it. Now . . ." Mrs. Quin turned to address the other groups and silence became a low murmur and then a quiet roar as the class began to work again.
Xander looked at his desk, tracing the lines another student had carved into it. He stayed there until the bell rang. As he brushed by Rachel on his way out the door, he found himself catching her arm.
"Yes?" she asked.
"What?" he asked her, as if she had stopped him rather than the other way around.
"Yes," she said. "I saw. I don't know what it was, and it's none of my business. You told me a truth in answer to my question, even if it wasn't the truth, so I have no reason to complain. I did see though. I can't help that. If you ever want to tell me what I saw, I'm here. Otherwise, you're clearly intelligent and understand basic literary devices so I look forward to working with you."
"Rachel –"
She turned to meet his gaze, the depths of her brown eyes more present, more real, than the room in which they stood.
"I see a lot of things. Everyone's hiding something, somewhere, or some when and I see a lot of it. That doesn't mean I go in for a closer look. Your life, your secret. I'm going to class now."
Rachel slipped her arm out of Xander's hand and walked away, telling herself that she felt no regret. She had nothing to regret. Was she impressed by her new classmate? Absolutely. Did she find him intriguing? Most definitely. But was she slightly smitten with him and did she have the ability to fall for him? Well, yes she did. She wasn't going to though. She was in a café drinking tea or in the library with no obligations and plenty of time to read everything, so she felt nothing and walked to orchestra.
