A/N: Yep, still alive. Anyhoo... Anywho? ...Whatever, this was, as usual, planned as a oneshot, but hey, that never seems to stay as the case, so here's the first chapter to a relatively short fic(I hope). Since it's meant to be short, I figure we'll use each chapter as a sort of scene transition, so this and chapter 2 will go up together, followed by the next two(?) after that. Basically, if you're reading this, I should already be halfway through the third chapter, and if I'm not, feel free to light a metaphorical fire under my lazy ass.
Sniff...
The red-haired seventeen year old, known by most of Dimmsdale's inhabitants as 'Vicky'; inhaled deeply as she held a small card, not unlike one you'd give to someone on their birthday; up to her nose, flooding her nostrils with an unknown, yet decidedly flowery, scent. "Hnn..."
"'Nother Valentine... For the Valentine?"
"Gah!" Vicky jumped at the voice that suddenly emanated from her left, sending the flowery-smelling card flying into the air, only to reach out for it with near-inhuman speed as it came back down, catching it with both hands before tightly holding it to her chest in a lame attempt to hide it from the voice's owner.
"Tss..." Said voice's owner, a girl about Vicky's age and height, sporting a head of black hair with now-faded green highlights, light skin, blue eyes, and wearing a black t-shirt with similarly colored jeans; giggled in such a way that it sounded more like a low hiss than a noise of amusement, though her slight grin gave her away pretty quickly. "Paranoid much?"
The red-head narrowed her eyes at the all-too perky, self-proclaimed goth. "No, I'm just not used to people sneaking up on me when I'm thinking!" Vicky spoke in an annoyed tone through gritted teeth, forgetting for the present moment that her intimidation tactics seemed to just glance off this girl; her friend, Theresa.
"Your thinking?" The dark-haired girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Vicky in disbelief. "It looks a lot like smelling. Your boyfriend leave you another card proclaiming how his love for you burns with the-"
Before she could finish, the pink-eyed girl slapped her hand over Theresa's mouth, driving her intention to silence the girl home with a steely-eyed glare. "He- Or... She- Agh! Whoever this person is! ...Isn't my boyfriend!" Vicky shouted, her voice echoing down the relatively empty hallway of Dimmsdale High School.
Luckily for the teen, her rather infamous reputation was well-known even here, so anyone with half a brain in their skull; be they student or school faculty, knew better than to even look at her funny, nevermind reprimand her for yelling in the halls.
And while her usual abrasive personality kept just about everyone away, Vicky had somehow managed to find the one person who was completely unaffected by her threats, whether because she didn't take her seriously, or that she simply wasn't afraid of her, the red-head wasn't sure, but what she was sure of was that Theresa had her uses. The slightly younger girl was intelligent, if a bit lazy. Sometimes naïve, but she made a good sounding board, and occasionally had a good idea pop into her head when the older red-head had a problem she couldn't figure out on her own.
Taking a small step backward, Theresa freed her mouth from Vicky's hand. "So they're... What? A secret admirer or something?"
"Hmph..." Vicky brought her hand up and pressed it palm-first to her forehead as she leaned backward against her locker. "Or something... I haven't the foggiest idea of who it could be..." She glanced down at the card again, then brought it up to her nose, giving it another quick sniff. "But whoever it is... They're really cliché. I mean, who sprays perfume on letters? Flowery perfume? I don't even use flowery perfume!"
"Or perfume, for that matter." The dark-haired girl deadpanned, joining her friend and leaning her right side up against the row of lockers they stood next to.
"Not the point." Vicky spat out in an annoyed tone. "You haven't noticed anyone coming by and sticking these damn things in my locker?"
"Nah, interesting as it would be to stand around watching your locker all day, I much prefer the thrilling pastime of watching paint dry." Theresa remarked sarcastically, earning her another glare from her friend. "Why not just set up some kind of surveillance cam or something? You could probably buy a little cheap one at Wall2Wall-Mart...?"
"No... That wouldn't work. I dunno if whoever's doing this is actually going into my locker, or if they're just slipping the... Notes, in through the little slits in the door. If they have my locker combination, they could just take the camera and erase the footage, then put it back when I wasn't around. If they're slipping them in, then a camera wouldn't help me in the slightest." Vicky hummed in thought as she fell silent again, wondering just how she could figure out who this admirer of hers, was.
Theresa, seeing that her red-haired friend was deep in thought, opted to stay quiet and pass the time by looking at her fingernails, followed soon after by her phone, and eventually just her surroundings, noticing the odd classmate of theirs passing through the halls every now and again. "...So is this a common occurrence for you? Just hanging out-"
Riiiinnnngggg!
The goth flinched at the unexpected sound of the school bell, indicating the end of one of the school's multiple lunch periods. "Hah..." She sighed and shook her head, knowing that, unlike Vicky, there were repercussions for her if she missed classes. "Well, good luck with your boyfriend or whatever, I gotta get to History."
"Mm." Was Vicky's only response as her gaze remained trained on the small scented card in her hand, her brain once again comparing the handwriting to all the ones it could remember, hoping to find some commonality between the note's writer, and anyone's handwriting she'd seen before. "...Why do I even bother? It's the same handwriting as the last... However many I've gotten! It's only familiar because I've seen it so damn often!"
"Right... Well, have fun with your mystery, Sherlock. I'll see you at lunch, I guess?" Rather than wait for a response, Theresa turned away and quickly began walking away; her class being on the other side of the school building. "Worst case, you could probably set some kind of trap to catch them, if those stories about that kid you call a Twerp aren't made up." The dark-haired girl called over her shoulder with a shrug, not noticing as Vicky's eyes widened, then quickly narrowed at the idea that popped into her head, the corners of her lips curling up into a devious smile.