Lizzy Bennet has no time to put up with anyone's shit. Especially not Caroline Bingley's.
Caroline shouldn't even be in this class. Creative Writing is a junior class, and most seniors like her are taking AP English Literature and Composition. However, Caroline failed many a class last year and Honors English just so happened to be one of them. Moreover, their teacher, Mrs. Annesley, had thought it a brilliant idea to seat the two of them right next to each other.
When she walks into class and takes her seat, whispers from Caroline's side of the bench make their way over to her ears.
"Did you hear?"
"Darcy, apparently-"
"-very handsome-"
"-single, for God's sake-"
It doesn't take a genius to know that they're talking about a boy. Lizzy rolls her eyes. Dumb idiots. Boys are nothing to her, nothing more than a human with no breasts, a dick and an extremely large ego - although she must admit that the latter of the three doesn't apply to every male, Charlie being an example.
Lizzy takes out her textbook, putting space between her and Caroline so she can maintain a level of sanity. On the inside cover is her name, scrawled on the crisp paper with bright orange ink. Elizabeth Marianne Bennet.
Suddenly the entire class quiets down drastically, and Lizzy glances upward to see what's going on.
"You're late, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Annesley says, but not in a strict or demanding way. Her stance is relaxed and her eyes are smiling.
"Apologies," the boy in questions responds. "I had a bit of trouble with my locker. We don't have those back in London." London? Lizzy's taken aback. If this Darcy is so rich he could live in London, what made him move to the middle of nowhere in Meryton?
"No worries. If I could have your first name, please? You're not on the attendance sheet yet."
"Will," he replies, watching Mrs. Annesley write his name down. "William Darcy." Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy sees Caroline bat her eyelashes at Will, and there's no doubt that the rest of the girls are swooning at his perfect accent.
"Welcome, Will. Why don't you take a seat between Lizzy and Caroline?" Lizzy tries not to snort at Caroline's frantic surprise, and she stays put as Will takes his spot. She refuses to acknowledge him.
"Hi, Will," Caroline greets, twisting a strand of auburn hair between her fingers. "Do you prefer 'William'? It's a much better sounding name, isn't it?"
"Eh. I like Will better. 'William' gets on my nerves a lot." Turning away from a rather abashed Caroline, Will looks to Lizzy, who's staring at her book. "Well, hello to you too."
"Hi," is all she says. She wonders if Will was expecting something more from her, but doesn't venture to say anything else. Instead, she settles for observing his lean frame, perfectly chiseled face and unruly dark curls at the top of his head. She isn't staring at him like the other girls - Lizzy Bennet has an artist's eye, and she very much looks forward to sketching Will now that she's found that his features are perfect to translate onto paper.
Will glances up at her. Lizzy notices his eyes, the clear blue of the sky, hidden partially behind wire-frame glasses. She has the perfect colored pencil for that shade, she thinks.
The silence between them is getting to be way too awkward, so Lizzy decides to say something.
"How was it like, back in London?"
"It was fine. I lived there for most of my life, so I obviously liked it better."
"Why'd you move to Meryton?"
"Well, aren't you just straight to the point?" Will raises one eyebrow at her. Even his eyebrows are perfect. But Lizzy knows from experience that the most perfect pictures take tons more effort to draw.
"It's a question," Lizzy shrugs, blowing her blonde hair out of her face. She's annoyed - Jane braided her hair this morning, but it's already beginning to unravel. "So I asked it."
"I like the way you think, Bennet."
"You still haven't answered my question, Darcy. Or should I say, William." Will narrows his eyes at her.
"Don't."
"I just did." Lizzy smirks, sticks his tongue out at him, and proceeds to start penciling in a tiny leaf on the inside cover of her math textbook.
"You're not allowed to do that," Will says again. God. Won't that idiot just leave me alone?
"Do what?"
"Draw on your textbook. It's not your property. Plus, it doesn't even look nice."
Lizzy rolls her eyes. "You know what else doesn't look nice?" She looks him up and down until he finally gets her point. Groaning, Will falls back in his chair.
"I hate how I have to put up with you for the rest of the year."
Lizzy grins evilly. "And I pity that you do."
Surprisingly, Will turns up in Lizzy's AP French two periods later. She gives him a scrutinizing look as he decides on the seat behind her.
"Don't look at me like that," he says. "I know my French. I'm probably better than you."
"Dit le snob le plus arrogant de la planète."
"Hey!" A delicate smile dances on Lizzy's face, delighted at the sight of a thoroughly vexed Will. She says nothing, instead turning to talk to Charlotte next to her. Knowingly, Charlotte rolls her eyes, also smiling.
"Have you found someone else to prey on, Lizzy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your wit does not become you, Lizzy. I can't keep up with you sometimes. One second you're as immature as Lydia, and the next you're going totally smart-aleck on Madame Senne." Charlotte smiles.
"I do not go smart-aleck on Madame Senne."
"Yes, you do. Remember when you spent a whole fourteen minutes trying to convince the class that attendre should mean attend and not wait?" Lizzy blushes, her cheeks turning rosy pink.
"Charlotte! You counted!"
"Well, duh. I was bored beyond my wits. You know I hate this class, Lizzy. I'm only here because Dad wanted me to take French and not Spanish, which would have been a whole lot easier. I could have had a better GPA, but no." Lizzy opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off by a shrill voice.
"Bonjour, la classe! Vous êtes prête pour aujourd'hui?"
"Oui," the class drones back. Lizzy sighs. Mrs. Annesley is a kind, understanding teacher, the one that always makes sure you have everything you need - the kind you could always go to if you needed something for your period and wouldn't feel uncomfortable talking to. Madame Senne is haphazardly different, a strict woman who either likes you or hates you. Lizzy seems to be the rare exception of smack dab in the middle, as her relationship with this teacher fluctuates regularly.
"D'accord. Vous parlerez avec des partenaires aujourd'hui. Je vais assigner vos partenaires pour éviter toute décision imprudente." As Madame Senne pulls up the wheel with all the names written on them, the class groans once more. Lizzy sits back in her seat, contenting herself with blowing her hair away from her forehead. "Lizzy? Tu parles avec Will aujourd'hui."
"Merci," Lizzy nods, leaning back to look at Will upside down. The look on his face makes her sit upright again and break out in loud laughter. Will stares at her quizzically.
"Quel est le problème, mademoiselle?"
"Ce n'est rien," Lizzy manages through giggles. "Vous êtes trop arrogant pour comprendre quand même." But it's the totally done look on Will's face after her clever slight that sends her spiraling into a fit of laughter that doesn't subside until half an hour later and leaves her with aching ribs and a dry throat.