Her real name was Jennifer, but nobody who had an interest in keeping all their teeth would have called her that. She went by "Jack". And even then there was still a fairly good chance you might end up face down on the curb. She was trouble. Anyone could tell. She had an undercut, and usually wore a leather jacket, biker boots, tank top and baggy pants on a deceptively skinny frame.
So far, she hadn't made any friends at the school she'd transferred to a few months ago, but a good number of enemies. Not that she seemed to care, or even notice much.
Miranda wouldn't have wasted a single thought on her if she hadn't been getting really good grades. It irked her. As if it wasn't enough that that Jane Shepard girl was becoming increasingly popular without even trying. At least she didn't run for student council. Yet.
She'd never hear the end of it if she wouldn't get re-elected.
She was watching her through the library window. Jack was standing just outside the school perimeter, smoking in a devil-may-care manner. Something about her was strangely enviable, Miranda had to admit. All that freedom. She was sure nobody forced that girl to attend violin practice and join tedious extracurricular clubs and school pseudo-politics. Nobody probably had a say in who she got involved with, either.
He's doing it for you, she chided herself the next moment and looked away, forcing her attention back to the essay she was trying to finish. After another twenty minutes, she gave up for the day. She should be getting ready for her violin sessions, anyway.
The sharp scent of tobacco announced her, even before Miranda had turned around and looked up at her. God, she'd never seen her up close. Despite her get up – or maybe because of it – her pale, heart-shaped face had an almost vulnerable quality about it. Like a porcelain doll someone had had their way with. She had beautiful brown eyes rimmed in heavy black eyeliner. And her lips... Miranda felt something in the pit of her stomach stir.
"Do you still need that book, cheerleader?" she asked gruffly.
"I'm not a cheerleader," Miranda said automatically.
"Huh. I suppose you all just look the same, then."
"Charming." For a moment she wanted to tell her to get lost, but then she'd probably have to stay here longer, and she couldn't do that just to spite the other girl. "I'm done here. Shouldn't you burst into flame in a library or something?" she added as an afterthought.
"Aw, she thinks she's funny. That's not a redeeming quality in a girl like you."
Miranda narrowed her eyes.
"Tell me about girls like me and I'll tell you all about the attention-seeking little fuck who thinks she's so godawfully different from everyone else, because she's oh so edgy and dresses differently. Shocking!"
Miranda couldn't help herself. Would she get beaten up in the school library? Part of her suddenly hoped the other girl would be expelled for that. Another part of her really, really liked her teeth and didn't want to lose them. She steeled herself, she'd had a lot of self-defense lessons after all, but the other girl just raised her eyebrows mockingly.
"You're spunky for a posh little princess. That's sort of cute. Don't be scared, I don't usually beat up people who have no chance of fighting back."
The smug grin bothered her, but Miranda was smart enough to realise she probably shouldn't test Jack's limits any further. She grabbed the history book and held it out to the other girl.
"Here, book, now leave me alone."
She packed her stuff, then turned around again and gave her another glare.
"Why are you still here?"
"I'm waiting for you to leave, this is a nice spot. Secluded."
"Not secluded enough," Miranda muttered under her breath, huffed, and took her bag and jacket. "You're in my way."
Jack took a step back, but Miranda still had to brush against her as she made to leave. She forced herself not to look back as she walked along the rows of books and desks, but she froze when a slightly hoarse voice yelled after her:
"Now I remember you! You're that girl with the great ass!"
Fortunately, there was hardly anyone left in the library, and nobody saw her face grow fiercely red as she walked off, flustered and irritated and confused.
. . . . .
"Really now?"
"Hey, cheerleader."
"My name is Miranda. And this is my spot!"
Jack raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, I must have missed the sign."
Miranda glared at her.
"There is an empty chair next to me. And if you need that book on the westward expansion, it's right here."
"Ugh, dammit."
Miranda sat down reluctantly.
It wasn't as bad as she'd expected. Jack was quiet and astonishingly studious, and she said she'd taken enough notes for Miranda to have the book for a while. She still felt on edge, but it dissipated after a while.
"You really need to eat something!" Jack laughed.
"Sorry," Miranda muttered.
"That sounded downright feral."
Miranda's stomach growled again.
"You're not one of those girls, are you?" Jack asked.
"What kind of girl now?"
"The ones who don't eat."
Miranda rolled her eyes.
"Of course I eat. It's just not on my schedule for the next two hours."
"Seriously?"
Miranda quickly drank some water.
"That won't help for long. Come on, you're not sitting here next to me distracting me with those noises."
"Hush, don't make a scene!"
Jack pursed her lips.
"Come on. Break. You need to eat something and I need a smoke."
Miranda rolled her eyes, but reluctantly followed the other girl outside, hoping no one would see them together.
. . . . .
Jack watched the other girl wolf down her burger. She didn't seem the type who ate fast food a lot. Probably had a maid to cook healthy, wholesome meals for her. Jack dragged on her cigarette one last time, then crushed the butt under her heel. She raised her eyebrows and smirked as Miranda licked her fingers clean. That, she thought, that was just a little bit hot.
She put her foot down on the bench next to Miranda and leant over her.
"You've got something on your upper lip," she said and brushed her finger over a trace of ketchup, lingered on the soft, warm skin for a second too long. Pale blue eyes widened as Jack looked into them, then she took her hand away and licked the offending condiment off her own finger.
"You smell like an ashtray!" Miranda said a moment later, pulling away.
"And here I thought we were having a moment."
Jack almost sniggered at the confused, slightly pissed-off look the other girl gave her. So far she had stayed away from the other students, but this one was just too much fun to mess with. Cute, too.
"Tell me about that tight schedule of yours that doesn't allow for food when you're hungry."
"I have lots of things to do and right now I'm behind on that essay."
"Because you took in nourishment! Simple carbs and saturated fat, the best kind of nourishment!"
Miranda shook her head.
"What else do you have to do today?"
"Student council meeting from 5 to 6.30. Dinner, 7 to 7:30. Shower, probably. Study from 8 to 10. Maybe read something, go to bed at 11."
"You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me!"
Jack stared at her.
"Is that some kind of control freak thing?"
"I didn't ask for your opinion!"
"Are all your days like that?"
"And what if they are?"
Jack shook her head.
"What right have you to judge me? I mean, look at you!"
Jack's eyes narrowed.
"Yes, tell me what's wrong with me. I can't wait. You seem to have some insights there. Let's hear them."
Miranda just got up and walked past her.
"Fucking stuck-up bitch!"
Jack let herself fall onto the bench and lit another cigarette after a moment.
All right. All right. She knew this had been her fault. Damn, she just couldn't be subtle. Ever. But on second thought, it was funny how defensive the other girl had gotten at once. Wasn't it?
Fuck. She probably ought to apologize. She hated that shit.
. . . . .
Miranda stared at the lumpy little parcel with her name on it. She looked around in the library, then sat down and opened it furtively. She felt her face grow hot as she read the small message, written in tall, loopy handwriting.
'I'm a fucking idiot. Sorry for what I said yesterday. Got you some sugar and fat because we're evolutionarily unable to resist the combination, also caffeine for your essay. j'
Miranda unpacked the chocolate-covered coffee beans in disbelief. But she couldn't stop the slow smile spreading on her lips. Thoughtful, she thought. Downright sweet. The nicest thing anyone had done for her in a long time. She'd been in a bad mood all day. Ever since she'd stormed off the day before. She shouldn't have been bothered like that, part of her realized. And she shouldn't be so happy now, either. And her heart shouldn't have raced the way it had done when Jack's fingertip had touched her lip the day before. And she shouldn't be thinking of those eyes, and those lips, and that indomitable strut.
And she really had to finish that essay.
. . . . .
"You're in a good mood tonight."
Miranda's hand clenched around the note in the pocket of her jeans.
"I've finished an essay today. And violin practice went very well."
Neither of which was a lie.
Her father looked at her for a moment and she felt like he was seeing right into her.
She'd never mention Jack.
"Jason is coming over for dinner tomorrow."
"Yes, I know," she said, fingers gently rubbing over paper.
"Good."