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Chapter IV
S*S
The rest of summer dwindled far to soon for Wendy's likening, time speed away in last minute rushing for new school clothes, notebooks, and writing supplies. All these things having utterly slipped the Allens' minds in their need to cling to August's fading shades of green and gold. The consequences were that the girls found themselves rushing about the house, trying to make everything ready for the first day back at school in the morning.
Such a task was daunting enough as it were. But the prospect of an entirely new body of students to meet and greet made it doubly so, a body of students who had known each other -or at least known of each other- all their lives. First impressions were something that allowed no do-overs, no second chances.
Wendy and Connie took that seriously. Which was why they were in the middle of Wendy's larger room, the place looking like a bronc saddle show had torn up the place. Freshly brought clothes lay on the vanity chair, window-seat, and were draped across the younger girl bed's with the seriousness of the affair. By unspoken agreement, the Allen sisters acknowledge how one dressed would effect how the other would be seen, so they didn't bother pretending not to care as they repeatedly vetoed each other's fashion sense.
Or lack of it as it were.
"Oh no. No. Not the plaid dress Wendy," Connie commanded firmly, jerking the clothing out of her sister's hands and dropping it as if it had burned her. "You'd look like you just come out of the confession box."
"And if you wear those new heels, you'll look like your on your way to the confession box," Wendy retorted back, hands on her hips. "Or the hospital, if you trip on the stairs and break your neck."
Connie pursed her lips, considering, before she nodded and tossed the scandalous looking things to the floor, where they clanged together like prison manacles. Wendy flinched. Why any girl wore those torture devices was beyond her. "Fair point. Heels should be for steady ground. What do you think about this skirt?"
She held it up, and Wendy tilted her head at the smiling poodle carefully stitched into it's front...looking far to happy for Con's vinegar and ice personality. Plus, Virgin Mary blue wasn't really her color. Nothing about Connie was maternal in the slightest.
"How 'bout this," she tactfully suggested instead, offering up an knee-length, ivy green button dress that would flatter her top, while the small V-shape at the collarbone was sharp enough to hint at what was hidden inside.
She'd chosen her mark well, as Connie's eyes lit up with cool interest as she took the offering and held it against her form.
"I have a dark pair of shoes that would go great with this," she murmured softly, which was the closest thing to thank you as Wendy ever got in Connie-speech. "I supposed you'd want the poodle skirt then?"
Nose crinkling, Wendy shook her head. "No...it's too sweet for me."
That got her a raised eyebrow. "Since when? Had to break it to you Wen, but your sweet enough to give people cavities. It's kinda disgusting."
"I just don't want to wear the poodle. Okay?"
That eyebrow arched higher. But Connie covered any surprise with a toss of her curls. "Suit yourself...how about that dark blue skirt with the thin white blouse? The one with the quarter sleeves?"
Wendy fished them out from the mess and held the two articles up But together, they wouldn't look too different from Connie's dress, right down to the little bit of V-neck. Her heart jump a bit. Usually Connie never let her match her style. "These ones?"
"Yep," Connie popped, smirking. "It just screams love me, I'm the goody two-shoes teacher's pet. I read the textbooks for fun in my spare time."
Wendy felt her face get hot. "Just the history and English ones. They can be interesting you know..."
Connie snorted, before inelegantly flopping on the bed with a knee bent, expression dull. "Wen, you have got to get a boyfriend."
Wendy tried to scowl at her, she really did. Cause really, until a year ago, Connie's opinion hadn't meant two cents...but good Lord, why did Connie's your-so-pathetic-glance have to match Mama's patented I'm-disappointed-in-you look? With all the high expectations and none of the encouragement. How was that fair? Like always, Wendy ended up looking away, lowering her gaze while her hands sought comfort in the process of folding all those lonely, unselected clothes, bringing some neatness back to the space.
Also, they'd be easier to put away then. Just tucked away and forgotten. Until they were useful that is. Only to just get put away again after that. Again and again.
She sucked in a shaky breath, startled to find it thick with unshed tears. Blinking, she swallowed them back. Connie didn't noticed, she had turned on the bed, and was flipping though a Twiggy magazine, running a finger over different styles of mascara. Wendy bit back a sigh. Of course.
Getting Sam and Eric ready wasn't nearly as emotional. She almost envied them, being boys and twins, all they had to do was make sure they remembered to put their shirts on the right way.
And they were together -sure, they were nervous about starting a new school as anybody was, but they already had a friend walking in besides them, bonded and connected in a way the Allen sisters would never be...Wendy would count herself lucky if Connie spared her a glance in the hallway. Again, a year before, that was just fine and dandy by her. She and Connie were different people. With different lives and interests.
She just thought...well, at first Wendy had thought that things might be different, when Mama got worse. Thought Connie might want to draw closer, like she and the boys had. That they could be friends, allies, safe harbors in a rapidly shaky world.
But it wasn't to be. Connie made it abundantly clear that she wanted no support, no comfort. And had absolutely none to offer either.
Wendy just had to live with that.
S*S
The next morning was a blur of rushing through the house, with the typical hassles of four kids tripping over themselves to remember the things they might've forgotten.
"Why do we have to get up with you anyways?" Sam whined as Wendy yanked a comb through his hair, having already finished with Eric (who was ruefully massaging his scalp). "Our school doesn't start for another hour!"
"Because, I want to make sure your ready before I go," Wendy huffed back. "Do you have the lunches I packed?"
"In my hand, Wendy," Sam groaned. "You just put it there."
Oh...right. "And you'll wait on the step until the bus comes?"
"Yes Wendy..." both of the boys chorused together, like a broken record.
"I think you mentioned that, didn't she Eric?"
"I think so Sam."
"Just once-"
"Or twice-"
"A minute-"
"All summer-"
"Oh, enough, both of you," Wendy snipped, giving their heads a light shove to silence their sniggers.
Eric fiddled with strap of his book bag. "How come Dad couldn't take us?"
Wendy tried not to wince. "He's already at work. I told you Eric."
Dad had taken the early hours at his new practice without running it by her first, apparently trusting in Wendy's abilities to get her siblings up and moving while he caught up on the work he'd missed. You can handle it can't you Wen?
Her answering smile had felt like through was glass in it, cracked and breaking. Of course Daddy.
Her reward was a proud kiss to the top of her head. That's my best girl.
The boys didn't need to know that.
The sudden honking of a horn saved her from any further questions, making them all look up. Striving towards the window, Connie peered through the blinds and hummed. "Bob and Cherry are here Wen. Gotta go."
Wendy nodded in absent agreement as they made their way out the door. Though Connie ended up having to take her sister by the wrist to the blue mustang when Wendy turned back to make sure the boys were sitting obediently on the step. Too obediently.
"You stay there until the bus come, you hear?"
"Yes Wendy!" they called back.
S*S
Will Rogers High School was a massive building of imposing brick, filled with hundreds of yammering kids that scurried about like a hill of ants or a swarm of bees. Wendy blinked as she slide free from her seat and out into the bright sunlight, squinting her eyes.
Cherry came up besides her with Connie while Bob looked over to where some guys in letter-men jackets were calling him over.
"You girls okay to walk in?" he asked them, though they way he asked struck Wendy as odd. It sounded more like a guard worried about deserting his duty than a boyfriend just trying to be sweet. It was probably only a hundred yards to the front doors. What on earth could happen?
Cherry however, lit up, and lifted herself on her toes to peck Bob's cheek. "Yeah we'll be fine. Doubt anything will happen on the first day. See you at lunch?
"Always," Bob grinned, before giving a lazy salute and santurering of like a tiger, trim and sleek. Wendy tilted her head, and tucked a stray raven lock behind on ear. She could see why Cherry liked him a bit...Bob always had the graceful power of command in his step, a gleam in his eye.
Still to tall for her however.
"Well come on, I'll show ya to the main office," Cherry told the sisters brightly, hustling them along. "You can pick up ya schedules there. Hope to have you in some of my classes."
Though technically, that last comment was addressed to both of them, her green eyes found Wendy's while she said it, and Wendy could see why.
Beside them, Connie's mouth had curved into a enigmatic smile of a thousand meanings, her steps gaining confidence as her hips began to sway ever so slightly under her tiny black belt. Head up, shoulders back, the older Allen girl strolled into the school like she was the Queen, Aphrodite out of the sea, and Cherry and Wendy her retinue.
Wendy watched with pity as a few poor boys actually stopped what they were doing to watch her sister waltz by, one even walking clean into a wall. They had no idea that Con, while not wholly bad, was merciless when it came to her admirers, wit and sarcasm as stinging as her ivy green dress.
That wasn't even the worse of it...no that would be raising outrage in the faces of those boys' girlfriends, faces that reddened and paled with incredulous disbelief at this interloper on their territory.
...It probably didn't help that Connie then arched a brow, and smiled at them.
Well. There was a first impression that wasn't gonna go away. Not anytime soon. If ever. Wendy just walked closer to Cherry and tried to focus on the number of doors they were passing.
Besides that, what she would have to be blind not to noticed was the divide running through the student body. On one side, there were kids like her...dressed like her in neat new clothes, minimum make-up on the girls -that in Wendy's case, hadn't wanted as it always bothered her skin, but Con point blank told her wasn't optional. Which was how she wound up with a dab of mascara and blue eye-shadow- and clean hair cuts for the boys. Socs, according to what she had been told.
Which meant the other half would be the Greasers. Of the two, they were the most noticeable. How could they not be? The girls were caked with make-up, hair curled more wildly than Connie ever tried. And some of their clothes sprouted hemlines that made Wendy wonder if they even planned on sitting down at all. The boys were clothed in t-shirts, plaids and leather, hair shinning in the light from having been greased back. They looked hard beaten.
"Well here we are!" Cherry announced suddenly. Wendy looked forward to see the words main office painted in black letters on clear glass. "See ya'll at lunch right?"
"Right," Wendy assured her -no way was she sitting alone. Con merely nodded.
"See ya then."
"Bye."
The office was another tripped into the Twilight Zone...creepily identical to the one the Allen's girls had left behind them in D.C. Right done to the sound's of typewriters and the Auntie, willow frame looking secretary.
"Hello dears," she greeted them around her horned glasses, pulling her cigarette out of her red painted mouth and setting it in the ash tray. Wendy was reminded of her Aunt Jeanie, a happy, cowgirl of a lady who still wore make-up for the pleasure of it, even though she was a teacher. Dad had mentioned now and then of going to visit her out in Windrixville. But nothing had ever really come of that.
"Your the new girls, right? Connie and Wendy Allen?"
"Yes ma'am," they chorused together, nodding their carefully curled heads. The lady beamed, and happily fished out their schedules form a folder. While this was happening, their was a commotion from inside the principles office, the sound of exasperated adults, demanding a Mr. Matthew explain just how Mrs. Adolini's car ended up covered in eggs?
"Don' know what to tell you folks. Birds been actin' strange lately. Must be something in the feed they been getting," was the cheerful reply of a tall boy with rusty side burns.
Wendy stared, then quickly pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a giggle. Good golly, Even Con's mouth was twitching a little with genuine mirth. They weren't they only ones, even the principle seemed to biting chuckles back. Not that it stopped him from giving the boy detention.
"I'll clear up my schedule then!" the kid answered cheerfully, bouncing out of the room. His hair proclaimed him a Greaser, but the fun in his steps made him much less imposing than his fellows. He even tipped an invisible hat to the girls, eyeing them up and down playfully, before holding a finger to his lips as he swiped the secretary's cigarette and stole away.
"Here you are!" the obvious lady sang merrily, like Debbie Reynolds in Singing in the Rain. "I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
Wendy's mouth tipped up in another smile. You'd think they were at a hotel or something.
"What do you have first Wen?" Connie muttered as they left the office and arrived to their neighboring lockers, eyes scanning her sheet before her. Wendy held her own up, trailing down the room numbers for the day.
History - Room 301 8:00 A.M. to 8:45 A.M.
Science - Room 101 9:00 A.M. to 9:45 A.M.
Gym - 10:00 A.M. to 10:45 A.M.
Study Hall Room 122 11:00 A.M. to 11:30 A.M
Lunch 11:30 A.M to 12:30 A.M
Art Room 121 12:30 A.M to 1:35 P.M.
English Room 102 1:35 P.M. to 2:30 P.M.
By the end of the list, Wendy was sure her jaw was open. Lord above, she'd be running ragged all over this place. Her legs were tired just thinking about it.
Even Connie was sympathy when she looked it over. "Well, at least you got English right before you go home. That's your favorite right?"
Wendy tried to keep her shoulders from slumping. "Right..."
S*S
Despite trying to put a positive spin on things, Wendy was nevertheless huffing and puffing by the time she had bounced up the stairs to history class. She made just before the door closed, and tried to explain why to the teacher, a dark haired Italian woman with cool, Connie-eyes, but she just waved it aside.
"Just take a seat Miss Allen," she said, a bit to her voice that said she wasn't having a good day. Her introduction as Mrs. Adolini explained why.
"Yes, ma'am," Wendy wheezed, hardly in the mood to argue.
The rest of class didn't get much better. No one person was paying attention to the teacher, preferring to look at Wendy, with the obvious question of "Who the heck is this kid?" plain in their eyes. Soc and greaser alike were semi-unified in their examination of her, trying to place Wendy on one side of the scale or the other.
It was like being an ant under a magnifying glass. She could feel her wrist itching. 9:00 A.M couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, she was flying out the door, desperate to make it back down the three flights of stairs for science.
Going down was easier than going up, and she made it was better time to spare, but nevertheless granted herself the luxury of just tuning out the intro to class in order to catch her breath. Though she wasn't to sure what she'd do for the rest of the year.
Gym was a relief, as ironically, there was nothing to do for the first day. By the time this year was out, she be fit as an Olympic runner. And she supposed she'd have Study Hall to relax in for a while, until the real work load started. And praise God, her next class was right next door to it after a lunch reunion with her sister and their group.
There was another welcomed surprise to this. In Art class, the person running in late was Ponyboy Curtis, the boy from the stand at the rodeo, looking just as harried as she'd felt this morning. Now, Wendy had to admit, she was surprised to see him, as it blew her thought that he was twelve out of the water. Still it didn't stop her from wincing in sympathy as kid nearly turn to jello in his seat, barely able to comprehend as the teacher asked after Sodapop Curtis.
"He's alright, sir," Ponyboy answered, when he could. "Just on bed rest for a week more cause'a his ligament. He ain't sorry for missing school though."
"Course the grease monkey isn't," muttered the boy next to Wendy. David was his name, one of Bob's numerous friends. Fortunately, Ponyboy didn't hear, though the kids that did snickered. Her wrist itched. Still, all and all, it promised to be a good class. And the next one, mercifully down the hall, was her favorite subject.
Her mood uplifted the moment she stepped into the room, sunlight steaming in from the windows with the friendliest looking teacher she'd seen yet in this school. Mr. Syme was a tall, gangly man in a gray suit and gold rim spectacles, and a kind smile. He was meticulous though, since he was the only teacher Wendy'd meet so far who'd taken the time to make a seating arrangement.
All the incoming kids were made to stand against the wall, waiting while Mr. Syme called out their names and filled the seats row by row in a gradual trickle. Wendy didn't really pay attention until a "Jonathan Cade" was called, and she got another blast from summer.
Stepping forward quietly was the shadow in the blue jean jacket, the friend at the booth. His wary face smoothed into a calm expression as his hands rested in his pockets. Without a word, he made his way back to the corner desk by the window, as directed, and Wendy felt a touch of envy. Rats. She was hoping for that space.
"Miss Allen?"
Blinking, she straightened. "Yes sir?"
Mr. Syme pointed. "To the right of Mr. Cade if you please."
Oh, well. Alright then. One desk over wasn't bad. Not at all. Nodding obediently, she briskly walked over and took her designated seat, smoothing her skirt before she sat down.
When everybody was settled, Mr. Syme addressed them all.
"Some of you are probably wondering why I decide to do things this way," he started calmly, hand resting on his desk. "But over the years I've had too much nonsense over projects and people unable -unwilling- to work together for petty childishness. So here the deal," he gestured vertically to the line along the window. "Look to the person on your right...go on. Look."
Eventually, the line did so, not fully following what was going on, and Wendy instinctively turned her head to look back, though she had a hard time making herself meet Jonathan's gaze. She fidgeted in her seat, and was only a little relived when he did likewise, though he hide it better, only chewing his lip a little.
"This will be you partner on all project assignments that involve two people. So I suggest you get along with 'em."
This caused a noticeable stir among the students, but Wendy didn't really hear it, she was too busy blinking, trying to process what she'd just been told. Project partners. English usually had a lot of writing assignments and such, project based on books weren't uncommon. But Wendy hated having project partners back home. Somehow, she always ended up doing all the work.
She took a breath. That doesn't mean it will happen here. Sucking in some courage, she made herself look Jonathan in the eye, black and blue. They were as startled as she felt, and cautious as he looked her over. Like he was worried. Well, if they would eventually work together, it was best if they got of on the right foot.
With that in mind, Wendy forked up a smile, shy smile, and held out her hand.
"Hello, I'm Wendy," she greeted in a soft whisper. That seemed to surprise him some, judging from the flickering in his depths of his gaze, as they traveled from her hand to her face, to her hand again.
Wendy felt her smile fade a little, and she considered pulling her hand back. Before she could do so, her partner slowly reach out his own arm, and eased his long fingers around her palm. His grip twitched a little, and he held her hand loosely, like he expected her to pull away; but when she didn't, he allowed it to become a little more firm.
"Johnny," he whispered back.
Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.
Okay, so our heroes have met! How was the trip back through high school, I had to search my memory banks. Hope the characters are forming along nicely. If anything in here doesn't sound authentic let me know.