A/N: Emison is by far my favourite pairing from the show which is why I wanted to write a fic. However, this is my first one so I'd really appreciate any feedback. I'm from England, so I might use some phrases which don't make sense to some of you (please let me know!) and I also apologise for any inconsistencies when it comes to schooling, the American education system will forever confuse the crap out of me.
Just some background, none of the 5 girls know each other and CeCe is the same age as Ali and the others. There is no A. Like I said, I'd really appreciate any feedback! :')
Her alarm clock's shrill ring pierced the air for the fourth time that morning, resulting in Alison deciding to finally leave her bed – albeit begrudgingly. She made her way into the bathroom, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she'd overslept by an hour. A familiar voice laced with annoyance called her name from downstairs.
"Yes mom, I am aware of what time it is. As I am about the day of the week. Technology really is mind-blowing these days." Alison shouted back, rolling her eyes.
She could almost hear her mum sighing in exasperation from here. It always thrilled Alison to have the upper hand.
Half an hour later, she stood in front of her full length mirror, inspecting her appearance to ensure she was without any imperfection. So called female role models were liars as far as Alison was concerned. Imperfection wasn't beauty – imperfection was weakness. Beauty was in strength, in fierceness and the ability to win. And no one knew how to be a victor as flawlessly as Alison Dilaurentis.
Walking down the hallways, Alison went about her business in the same way as usual. She directed flirtatious smiles in the direction of the handsome jocks, she feigned compliments at a few wannabe girls – and she reminded some of the trash of their exact status at the school.
A figure lightly bumped Alison's shoulder as she made her way down the corridor.
"Watch where you're walking!" Alison snapped, angling herself to study the face of the clumsy fool. She smirked in recognition.
"Oh no, how many times do I have to tell you? When it comes to right of way in these hallways, we follow a hierarchy. "She spoke in mock sweetness, dragging out every syllable as if her mere demeanor wasn't patronising enough.
She took a step closer to the quivering mess before her, a small crowd beginning to form as she prepared to launch a major blow.
"You see," she continued. "It goes Alison, jocks, cheerleaders, dogs, vermin…hermaphrodites." She finished, raising her voice at the latter. Their surrounding peers sniggered, while Lucas stared at his feet, as if there were some fascinating artefact on his worn Converses.
"S-sorry Alison, I'm s-so sor-" He stammered, lips quivering as beads of sweat began to form above his brows. The sniggers turned into an eruption of laughter as Lucas pushed through the crowd and bolted down the hallways before being subject to any further embarrassment.
Alison basked in the stares of admiration and commendations on her episode as the crowd began to dissipate. Occurrences such as this were merely a spot on her daily routine – she exercised her full power wherever she went. There was nothing about Alison that didn't evoke awe. She wasn't just your average blonde-hair-blue-eyes pretty popular girl, she was a queen. It would be insulting to describe her luscious locks as blonde – they were golden. And her eyes, they were oceans with depth beyond anyone's imagination – but they were icy guarded all at the same time. Alison Dilaurentis was an enigma, and there wasn't a guy – or girl who wasn't dying to unravel the mystery that she was.
"Late to school but still time for a little Hermie-roasting, you're practically superwoman!" her current best friend and side kick CeCe gushed excitedly as they made their way to class. Alison internally rolled her eyes at her try-hard attitude. She flashed CeCe her signature smirk as she replied.
"That was just prep, I haven't even turned on the heat yet."
Alison drowned out the rest of CeCe's blabbering as they neared her English class. She'd become an expert at tuning in just as people may have become suspicious of her ignorance. She was an expert at feeding them phony reassurance that she was concerned about their every whim, although she frankly had more interest in American history – and her teacher could easily tell you how little that was.
"Sure CeCe, he's probably dying to ask you out – but maybe you should tone it down on the foundation. After all..that," she gestured towards the taller blonde's face. "is your face and not a colouring book." Her tone was still sweet, but CeCe took the hint. Their conversation was over, it was Alison's decree.
Mr. Fitz walked into the class a couple of minutes after Alison had made her ever hotly anticipated arrival. He scribbled a few notes on the board before turning to face the students. She paid little attention to his words as he most likely rambled on about something ridiculous, like love or feelings. English as a subject to study made little sense to Alison. She loved to read, to escape reality if even just for a while. To be transported to another person's world. She also loved to write – to recount her greatest conquests, even though she did admittedly exaggerate them. But Alison would never understand an English teacher's need to dissect a text to such great extents. Because come on, if a writer says that 'The curtains were red,' then Mr. Fitz would suggest that this room was one filled passion, love and angst. He would probably go on to suggest that the owner of the room felt happy or elated when the room was decorated. But do you know what Alison thought the writer meant? That the curtains were fucking red.
"..And so, this is going to be a project that I want you to work on in pairs." She heard the teacher say as she escaped her thoughts. She felt a familiar gaze that was of Noel Kahn on her. Alison met his eye and half smiled. He slipped her a wink.
"..but yeah, I'd like to get some new interaction going – so your new seating plan and assigned partners are up on the board." Mr. Fitz finished, earning a chorus of groans from the class.
"This is a literary masterpiece!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in defence. "I'm sure you're all going to enjoy the project." He paused as he was met with looks along the lines of 'yeah, right' by his students.
"Well, this is something you'll need to work on outside of class too, so at least you can count on no extra assignments for the next few weeks?" he attempted meekly. Accompanied by another chorus of groans, the class was filled with the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling as they repositioned themselves according to the new chart. Alison stayed in her seat, nonchalant as always. Alison didn't go to people, they came to her.
The blonde didn't turn to the figure that took the seat next to her, she instead continued to buff her nails while the rest of the class got to work.
"H-hey, I'm Emily.." came a female's voice from beside her. The voice was tentative, shaky. Alison could already feel the control that she was in as she turned her head slightly. Her new partner was a tan skinned brunette who she quickly racked her brain to search for some dirt on. Alison's brain was basically a mind palace of secrets and gossip, insecurities that she could use to manipulate anyone she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was only when the girl spoke again that Alison realised she had no recognition of Emily whatsoever.
"It's nice to meet you," Emily smiled, holding out her hand for Alison to shake. The blonde looked down at the other girl's hand, wearing a sour expression on her face as though she had contagious leprosy. The brunette's smile wavered and then quickly disappeared as she allowed her hand to fall.
"Whatever." Alison finally returned, dismissively. She always hated projects where teachers selected their partners for fear of being lumbered with an obvious dork such as Emily. Not fear – Alison reminded herself. Alison Dilaurentis was fearless. She knew that her face communicated her distaste, and she sure as hell intended for things to be that way. The blonde turned abruptly to Emily who was fidgeting uncomfortably beside her.
Locking eyes with the brunette and injecting a moderate dose of venom into her voice, she began. "We work on this on my schedule. When I summon you, you respond to me. You don't speak to me until I speak to you. I happen to need this grade so better not be slacking." She paused to check that her words were registering with the other girl. Sure enough, her eyes betrayed hints of shock, her mouth slightly agape. Alison continued, her tone still stealthy,
"And DON'T for a second assume that this makes us friends." She scoffed at the last word, rising from her seat as the bell rang, perfectly timed for a typically dramatic Ali D exit. The blonde sashayed away without another glance in her victim's direction, who sat completely perplexed. A small part of her was in utter shock that someone could be so conceited whilst the rational part of her was completely expecting Alison's hostility judging by her reputation. She wondered if the blonde's attitude towards her would soften throughout the course of their project, before mentally slapping herself at such an absurd prospect. Alison Dilaurentis didn't change for anybody.
I know the scene where Emison meet isn't very descriptive but that's because even though this chapter is written in the third person, it's sort of most Ali orientated - and I wanted to stress that she doesn't find anything about Emily (or anyone else) very intriguing. Yet... ;)