A/N: Story is likely to be bumped up to an M next chapter, so yep... a genuine action chapter this time.
It was odd. It was really odd in fact. Perhaps Alex was to thank, or maybe time, perhaps even the fact that her grade was a now a steady high C, but for whatever reason, people didn't seem to hate her so much now. Christie had mainly been a ghost over the holidays, as other than her daily hour with Alex –who had insisted they didn't take a break over the holiday, ranting on about how she'd forget everything- she had barely seen a soul, other than when she slipped out at night to make some holiday money.
When school term started once again however, there was a definite change in people's attitudes towards her, and it was rather surreal to pass amongst a corridor full of people receiving nothing but brief glances or even small smiles, which after seven weeks of foul glares and judgemental lookovers, were rather terrifying. What was worse however, was when they all started talking to her.
"You know, I've been thinking something." Clara, a cheerful redheaded girl who was captain of the cheerleading team was sat at the science lab in front of Christie, who as usual was sat on her own, but she turned round when she spoke, eyeing Christie curiously, "Don't you think that Christie looks just like the old queen?" Turning around to see what she was talking about, the three over girls at her lab also looked over at Christie.
"You mean like when she was painted for that picture in the palace?" A brunette girl named Katelyn inquired, watching Christie with no malice or deep-set dislike, just open interest.
"Oh my god, she totally does!" A tiny little girl with curly black ringlets called Rebecca suddenly squeaked, looking completely overjoyed by her own realisation.
Christie, who had been trying to ignore them up until this point due to the fact that she was confident that they were just leading up to some elaborate trick, now glanced over at them, frowning. Whatever they were trying to get at, she could already feel it wasn't going to be good. "You know," Clara began again, her voice lowered into a mysterious whisper, although it somehow managed to be just as loud as her speaking voice, "they say that the young princess survived the accident, for her body was never found."
Oh dear. Christie could see where this was going. Rebecca gave a little yelp at that piece of information, hurriedly apologised to the teacher and then stared in awe at Christie. Trying her best to look as if she hadn't been listening into their conversation, turning the back of her head on them, Christie winced when Rebecca repeatedly hissed her name, drawing the attention of more and more people with every repetition.
Sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose in agitation, Christie glanced over at Rebecca in resignation and didn't need to say anything for the over-excited teenager to continue. "Christie, were you adopted?" She demanded, ignoring any such thing as privacy or silly things like that. Biting down on her lip, Christie was tempted just to lie to get herself out of this, but then they could always check school records, and if they then discovered the truth they'd think she was hiding something and then they were bound to make assumptions, so in conclusion, she was cornered.
"Yes," She answered tightly, glowering at a spot on the wall mutinously, not knowing how on earth she in any way resembled the queen, but she and everyone else in the room could tell what they were getting at.
Gasping theatrically at her answer, Rebecca and her friends shared several excited looks before all turning to face Christie, who was still trying to get over the fact that people, living, breathing, human people, were talking to her. "Christie, we think you might be the lost princess!" They announced, in their terrible whispers that meant the entire class and the teacher heard.
Around them, the class erupted into a chain of whispering, everyone gossiping and craning their necks to observe the similarities between Christie and some painting of the dead queen. Meanwhile, Christie had her head in her hands, cursing her own bad luck. Unnecessary attention was one thing, but everyone convincing themselves that she was a princess?
Then the nerves and sense of being in an unwanted spotlight vanished and she started smirking. Of course, they didn't know that she'd been born a male. With a great sense of dramatic irony, Christie covered her mouth with the back of her hand whilst she smirked and tried her hardest not to laugh. They were all getting so worked up and excited about the fact that she could be the long lost princess, not having a clue that it was rather impossible.
Still, when she spotted Marian, she wasn't sure if she was supposed to laugh more or finally be scared of the girl. Scowling at her mutinously, Marian had never looked quite this angry, not even when she'd beaten her in the book-balancing competition. For once, everyone's attention was on Christie, and this time it was positive.
It didn't stay in the classroom either, when Christie made to leave, she suddenly found she had three girls on her shoulder, asking incessantly about her past, trying to piece together the parts of a puzzle that they didn't realise already couldn't fit together. At first it was rather pleasant, very unnerving after half a term of stony silence, but a nice change.
Yet then the questions about her background didn't stop, it was all anyone wanted to talk to her about, ever. Now people would genuinely, openly smile at her in corridors, but then they'd come up to her and try to wriggle something out of her. Christie didn't know whether to lie, to tactfully divert the subject or just to remain silent. After so long of being hated, being this close to being liked was rather exhilarating and she didn't want to lose it, but it wasn't as if she could give them what they wanted, so eventually they were bound to get bored.
Whether they were getting bored or not however, Marian showed no signs of getting less angry as eventually even Jean and Abigail wandered over to Christie at the lunch table one day and asked her if she'd ever seen the painting of the queen, and this time she was able to honestly confess that she had not. The look on Marian's face would have made her day, if she was not so sure that something awful was going to come of it.
And come it did. Assigned as the one who had to stack the chairs at the end of poise class, Christie finally got to enjoy the peace and quiet of having no one else around to bother her, the endless questions that she could not answer beginning to get on her nerves. Everything was perfectly tranquil and calm until she'd finished, locked the store cupboard and then went over to the huge double doors leading out of the dance hall.
Tugging on the door handle with all her might, she quickly realised that the door had been locked. That was when her head was smashed against it.
Swearing colourfully, Christie should have seen that one coming. She was not going to be caught out again though, these were pretty little pampered princesses and she'd grown up in the shittiest part of town, where crime was at an all-time high. If they thought they could fight her, they were sorely mistaken.
"Oh Christie," The voice of Marian sighed. Idiot was making the first mistake in fighting someone; don't start talking and revelling in your victory until your opponent is safely secured and/or unconscious. Ignoring whatever smug little speech the girl had clearly prepared for her, Christie rolled up from her collapsed position on the floor and kicked out at the girl who had smashed her head against the cold hard metal of the door handles, feeling a little light-headed from it, but otherwise able to fight.
Upon turning, she discovered Marian had at least been smart enough to plan this out. Gathered with her were four other girls, although Christie was surprised to see none of them were her usual blonde minions, Jean and Abigail. Christie didn't know whether to be touched that the pair had denied the opportunity to beat the crap out of her, or to panic that the four who had replaced her were all talented sports players, one the hockey captain and the other three all on the team.
She recognised them vaguely, although none of them were in her class. They were some of the remaining individuals who still held a cold antipathy towards her, which might have something to do with the fact that she'd made a rather snide comment about hockey to their captain's face, not realising who she was at the time. Now it appeared her bad behaviour was coming back to bite her, hard. Still, even with four versus one, she had background training and righteous justice on her side… sort of.
Calmly stepping back out of her foot's reach, Marian sneered down at her, in every way the perfect, smug little bitch Christie had hoped she wasn't. "See, this is the kind of behaviour we just can't allow from the future princesses and lady royals," She sighed dramatically, looking back at her gathered audience who just snarled aggressively, watching Christie as if she were an animal to hunt. "How can we possibly allow someone like you to be the future of our kingdoms?"
This wasn't good. This really was not good. Christie had now noticed that not only were the gathered minions hockey players, but they were also carrying their hockey sticks. Being a prostitute, Christie had faced abuse before, especially as a male prostitute in an area where homophobia raged angrily and freely from the local rednecks. Baseball bats were a particular favourite amongst several gangs, and Christie knew it was almost impossible to move without seizing up with pain after one of those group beatings.
She couldn't let them win though; she needed to go out tonight, well aware that the money jar back at home was empty and had been for two days, since she'd been unable to creep out due to a recent increase in security from someone else trying to break into the school. If she was a bloodied, beaten mess, no one would hire her, and Emile could not only be thrown out of the house they'd fought for so long to keep, and end up starving. A twelve year old on the streets was a very different thing from a fourteen year old prostitute, and Christie knew that despite all his angry backtalk, Emile wouldn't last two days without a door to lock and a bed to crash in.
So screw these rich bitches. Jealously and prejudice all seemed like such petty, selfish emotions in the face of what she needed to do, and so yeah, she did have righteous justice on her side, even if it was so she could go out and get paid to be fucked.
You learnt to defend yourself. Unless you were an idiot, if you lived in the slums, you learnt to defend yourself. It didn't matter what your ethnicity was, your sexuality or your gang membership, no matter who you were, you always had to be prepared to run or fight for your life. It was how you could tell the difference between a slum-dweller and everyone else, they moved faster, had quick reflexes and were always watching everyone else to work out where the next threat was coming from. Which was why she was going to win this.
Whilst Marian continued on with her little speech about propriety and what was right, she forced herself to stand up, wincing slightly as her head spun, feeling the blood sliding down the side of her face. She'd had worse, so she quickly ignored the pain and focused on her opponents. They outnumbered her, so she'd have to target one at a time and avoid the rest, taking them out quickly. She knew exactly who to start with.
Grabbing Marian by the front of the shirt, she pulled her away from her minions and then, without remorse or hesitation, punched out at her face, which had now morphed into a look of terrified shock. It would have been a very satisfying action if four hockey jocks hadn't just started charging towards her.
Marian's nose was bleeding now and she was screaming, clutching at it. For the little princess, that would have to do, as now Christie had to demonstrate how slum life increased speed. Dodging past the four girls, she sprinted flat out to the back door. Fuck, this one had been locked too. Twisting around, she found she was still being pursued, now by a group of angry girls all armed with hockey sticks.
Dithering for just a moment, she launched herself away from the back door and ran over to the storage cupboard, fiddling with the keys Dame Devin had given her to unlock it. Seconds before the hockey team reached her, the lock clicked open and she slid inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Impossibly, she managed to relock it before the angry gang of girls chasing her managed to charge through it, so they ended up running into it, bashing against the wood but not breaking it down.
Stood in the dark of the cupboard, surrounded by stacked chairs and books, Christie exhaled heavily, her body trembling slightly with the shock of this all happening rather fast, panting to catch her breath. Audible from the other side of the door, Marian was clearly outraged, shouting her head off furiously, coming closer as she stormed over to inspect the locked door for herself. Christie could hear her high heels pacing around before it as she no doubt contemplated her next more in her ingenious evil plan.
When her voice finally spoke, it was dangerously soft, filled with quiet anger, so Christie had to strain her ears to hear it. "You think this makes any difference, lottery girl?" She purred quietly, a muted fury trembling in her voice as she whispered to her, "The whole school will quickly grow tired of this little theory of theirs, and then you'll be alone again," She laughed, not a horrendously evil cackle or anything fantastically comical like that, it was low and musical and it sounded almost innocent, "it's not as if you have any actual, real friends."
Christie was locked in a cupboard, cornered by four hockey jocks and an angry future queen, but that didn't mean she could resist pissing them all off further. "Actually I think you'll find your little love interest, Alex and I," She began, both smirking and shaking as she spoke, "us two, we're really close."
It had the desired effect, although Christie didn't know if that was a good or bad thing anymore, she seemed to be signing her own death warrant, but at least she was having fun doing it. Yelling at her furiously, Marian started rattling off the usual insults, "I am going to kill you Christie Summers, until… until..." She seemed to struggle to finish that sentence, and Christie could practically hear her hands waving in the air in despair, "Until you are dead!"
Because there was nothing else she could do, Christie just laughed at that, "I'd hate for you to kill me until I was alive Marian." She drawled sarcastically, earning herself another round of insults, until the sounds of Marian's footsteps indicated she'd stormed off to vent elsewhere. The hockey jocks said nothing, but followed after her a few moments later, muttering between themselves, the words incoherent to Christie in her cupboard.
Exhaling slowly in relief at finally being left alone, Christie heard the bell for next lesson ring, but did not move to unlock the cupboard. Instead she leant against the locked door and closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She wasn't going to cry, because that was the kind of things these people would do. She just needed a moment to breathe, since it didn't matter how worn out she felt; that night she would have to go out and earn the money she needed to keep her brother alive and her mother in hospital. Her world was just like that, and there was nothing she could do about it, other than qualify as a lady royal and graduate this hell hole.
