Title: Starfleet's Finest
Authors: Sita/T'eyla
AN: Thanks to TLI, Exploded Pen and KaliedescopeCat who reviewed Chapter 4 and to everyone who reviewed so far. Here's the last part, hope you like it, please r&r (one more time :-) )!
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#5 Wild Thing
Hoshi Sato checked her reflection in the bus window and frowned. Somehow it didn't look right. Although she had tried to make it look like it did on all those women in the magazines, it still looked strange on her. Maybe she had taken to much eyeshadow, after all. Rummaging through her school bag she dug out her Mom's mascara and unscrewed the top. Using the bus window as a mirror, she carefully began to apply the green mascara to her lashes when suddenly the bus hit a bump in the road.
"Ouch!" She'd poked herself in the eye and when she checked her reflection again, there was a green smudge on her cheek and her eye was red, the mascara smeared everywhere.
"Aw, shit." Hoshi took a kleenex out of her schoolbag and tried to rub the mascara off her cheek, only managing to spread it even further on her face. She looked at her reflection in the window again and grimaced.
Great, Hoshi, she thought. Now you look like a zombie.
Once more she tried to restore her make-up, but the kleenex dissolved in her hand and she gave up in frustration. Stuffing the mascara back into her schoolbag she leaned back in her seat and miserably stared out of the window, trying to ignore her greenish reflection.
She hated the school bus. When she'd still been at her old school, she'd never had to go by bus, the school had only been a few minutes away from her home. And there had been people she could talk to on the way to school, people who had other things to talk about than who had the most expensive clothes, the fanciest hairdo or the newest Armani purse. People who didn't come to school in their own limousine driven by their personal chauffeur. Normal people.
Hoshi remembered how happy she'd been half a year ago when she'd won the scholarship to the best private language school of the state. Her parents had been so proud when the principal herself had called them at home, telling them their daughter had won the state contest. She'd known she would have to leave all her friends when she went to that new school, but then she hadn't really thought about that, and her parents wouldn't have allowed her to refuse anyway. Now she just wished she never had won that scholarship at all. On her first day in the new school not one of the girls had talked to her; they had stared, sniggering behind her back and Hoshi had heard them saying things like: "Just look at those sneakers she's wearing!" and "Oh my God, the shirt - I bet she bought it second-hand!"
Now it was her third week already and if anything, it had only gotten worse. She'd had a lot of friends at her old school, but these snobby bitches at the private school were just horrible, always dolled up like mannequins and looking down their noses on everybody who didn't get a pedicure twice a week. This morning Hoshi had taken a good look at herself in the bathroom mirror and had come to a decision. It couldn't hurt to try, she'd thought.
She'd been wrong, it seemed. Her eye was still red, burning like hell where she'd poked it and she couldn't even wipe the tears off because that would smear the carefully applied eyeliner.
The bus stopped and Hoshi realized they were already there. Trying not to think of how she looked, she picked up her schoolbag and got off the bus. Together with the few other students who came by bus she crossed the parking lot. As always, there were small groups of girls standing together in front of the entrance and when she passed by she heard them giggling. Deliberately not looking at them Hoshi walked down the hallway heading towards her classroom. Checking her timetable she sighed. Two hours German class. Well, it was better than math or physics, but generally Hoshi preferred French.
Just as she entered the classroom, the bell rang, but there were only a few students here yet. Hoshi sat down at her table in the front, taking out her books. As she dug for her pen in her schoolbag she heard the voice of Mrs.Schönwälder outside in the hallway.
"Come on, girls, class has already started! Let's move it!"
The door opened and seven or eight girls came in, followed by Mrs. Schönwälder who glanced at the clock over the blackboard, a sour look on her face. Hoshi looked over the crowd. Someone was missing. Hoshi was already getting her hopes up, but no, there she was - Patricia Walther, the leader of the gang. As always, she was the last one to sit down, a bored look on her face which made it clear what a waste of time she considered this to be. Patricia was thirteen, a year older than most of the girls, and ever since she had sauntered into the classroom on the first day of school she'd had the class under her thumb. She was always surrounded by a bunch of crownies who giggled at her jokes, admired her new outfit and listened to her stories. Most of the time she talked about another car, villa or private jet her father had bought, or about her latest shopping trip to Paris. Sometimes she would stop her recital of her family's latest acquisitions to make snide remarks about people who didn't own three hundred pairs of shoes and who were actually paying attention in class. Needless to say, Hoshi hated her.
"Guten Morgen, Kinder. Please take out your books; page 35." Mrs. Schönwälder's voice still sounded a little gruff. When she saw that half of the students didn't have their books with them, her frown deepened.
"Let's repeat the text. Who can give a summary of the last paragraph?"
Mrs. Schönwälder picked one of the students in the last row, who quickly put away the magazine she'd been reading under the table and frantically leafed through her textbook. As the girl answered, stumbling over the words of the unfamiliar language, Hoshi sighed. She scanned through the paragraph and out of boredom began to translate the simple sentences into French. After the third sentence Mrs. Schönwälder's voice got her attention again.
"Well, Janine, next time read the text at home, and not five minutes before class starts. All right, let's turn the page. Who can translate the following: 'Es liegt auf der Hand'?"
Mrs. Schönwälder looked over the class and her eyes fell on Patricia who was talking to her neighbour, not bothering to keep her voice down.
"Patricia, maybe you want to try? 'Es liegt auf der Hand', in English, please."
Patricia gracefully crossed her legs. "Um... that would be... 'It lies on the hand'."
A few students snorted and Hoshi rolled her eyes. Of course Patricia wouldn't know the expression, since it had been in the vocabulary for today and after all, only freaks and losers did their homework. Mrs. Schönwälder pressed her lips together.
"Maybe you should spend less time in front of the mirror and more time on your homework. Patricia Walthers. All right, is there somebody who *did* their homework? What about you, Hoshi?"
Hoshi felt a blush creeping up her face. Because she'd won that scholarship, most of the teachers thought she was some kind of genius and always resorted to her as a last help when nobody else knew the answer. The problem was, usually Hoshi did know the answer. She cleared her throat.
"'Es liegt auf der Hand' means 'It's obvious'."
For the first time this morning Mrs. Schönwälder smiled. "That's right, Hoshi. 'Es liegt auf der Hand' is a German expression; literally translated it does mean 'It lies on the hand', but the actual meaning is, like Hoshi said, 'It's obvious'. Es liegt auf der Hand that many of you need to study harder."
Mrs. Schönwälder smiled thinly and Hoshi rolled her eyes.
German humor strikes again, she thought and sneaked a glance at the clock. Another ninety minutes to go.
Finally, class was over and the girls filed out of the room. Hoshi put her book away and picking up her school bag she followed the others, heading for the cafeteria. As she passed a window she quickly checked her reflection. Her cheek was still green and despite all her efforts there was a smudge of eyeliner under her left eye now as well. Hoping no one would notice, Hoshi got in line, digging in her schoolbag for her purse. She got herself a strawberry milkshake and a doughnut and picking up her tray she went looking for an empty table. There was one near the window, and Hoshi sat down, careful not to spill any of the milkshake as she put down her tray. Staring out at the bright blue summer sky she absentmindedly took a sip of her drink. After a few minutes she heard subdued giggling behind her back. With a sense of foreboding she turned around and looked into the face of Patricia Walthers, who stood there, hands on her hips, surrounded by her fanclub who were leering expectantly. Hoshi swallowed, but decided she wouldn't back down this time.
"What do you want, Walthers?"
Patricia raised one perfectly pencilled eyebrow. "Oh, Sato, not busy doing your homework for next class? But of course you don't need to, you did it all at home already, didn't you?"
The crowd sniggered. Hoshi felt anger rising up in her stomach.
"What business is this of yours?" she said, her voice sounding more aggressive than she'd intended it to.
"A little cranky this morning, are we? What's wrong? Did you get less than a hundred percent for your brilliant translation in German class?" Patricia made a show of looking Hoshi up and down. "But no, I know what's eating you. I'd be pissed off too if I was running around looking like that. What were you trying to do, paint a Picasso on your face?"
Hoshi got up. "Get lost, Walthers."
Patricia snorted. "Why on earth did you combine red eyeshadow with green mascara, anyway? You look like a Vulcan with a headcold."
Patricia's friends giggled and Hoshi felt herself blush, which made her even more furious.
"Why do you believe I care what you think? You're so dumb you can't even spell your name right."
Although she was still smiling derisively, something like anger crossed Patricia's face.
"You know, it's *obvious* that today was the first time you ever put some makeup on. Nice try, Sato, but I think you're fighting a losing battle there."
Without thinking, Hoshi grabbed her milkshake and the next moment it was spattered all over Patricia's pink tank top. Patricia let out a horrified shriek and jumped back, crashing into one of her friends who were all staring at Hoshi in shock.
"You damn freak, you ruined my shirt!" Her face red and dripping with milkshake Patricia advanced on Hoshi who stood paralyzed, unable to believe what she'd just done. That moment someone came up from behind and grabbed Patricia by the arm.
"Walthers! Sato! What's going on here?" Mrs. Schönwälder stared in disbelief at Patricia's disarranged state. With her free hand Patricia pointed at Hoshi.
"She spilled her milkshake all over me!" she wailed. Mrs. Schönwälder's eyes fell on the empty plastic cup in Hoshi's hand.
"Sato! What on earth were you thinking? You, of all people!"
Hoshi swallowed. "I-"
"You two come with me, we are going to talk to the principal about this!"
With her other hand Mrs. Schönwälder grabbed Hoshi's arm and off they went. All the way to the principal's office she ranted on about "two *girls*, for God's sake!" picking a fight, but Hoshi didn't really listen. She was in shock. Her third week and she was already being taken to the principal, which had never happened to her before in her whole life. What if she got expelled? Her parents would be so disappointed.
When they arrived at the office, Mrs. Schönwälder let go of them and knocked at the door.
"Come in," said a deep voice behind the door and Hoshi felt her insides contract.
Fifteen minutes later Hoshi followed a disgruntled Mrs. Schönwälder out of the principal's office, feeling rather shaky. It hadn't been that bad after all. Mr. Roberts had listened to their story and Hoshi had gotten the impression he'd found it quite amusing, judging from the way he'd fought to keep a straight face most of the time. When he had asked her why she had attacked her classmate with a milkshake, Hoshi hadn't really known what to say, mumbling something about how sorry she was. Patricia hadn't said anything at all, tearfully fishing pieces of strawberry out of her bra. Not really knowing what to do with them, Mr. Roberts had suggested they should help cleaning the cafeteria after lunch for one week and after they'd promised it wouldn't happen again he had dismissed them.
Mrs. Schönwälder closed the door of the office behind them and turned around.
"I'm very disappointed in both of you. If something like this ever happens again, I'm going to see to it that you won't get off that easily." She looked as if she was going to add something more, but then she just gave them a last piercing look and turned to go.
Patricia glared at Hoshi. "I'm so going to get you for this, Sato," she hissed, keeping her voice down so Mrs. Schönwälder wouldn't hear her.
Hoshi looked at her and suddenly she had to grin. The oh-so-glamorous Patricia Walthers looked really funny with strawberry slime all over her pink expensive shirt.
"Quit bitching, Walthers, that strawberry stuff doesn't even look that bad on you."
Without waiting for an answer, Hoshi turned around and headed down the hallway. Back in the cafeteria she picked up her schoolbag and was on her way to the door when she heard someone calling her name. Looking back she saw Janine, one of her classmates, coming towards her. To Hoshi's surprise she was grinning all over her face.
"What did Mr. Roberts say?" she asked. Hoshi shrugged.
"Not much. Mrs. Schönwälder was quite pissed off, though."
Janine rolled her eyes. "I bet. I can't stand that woman, anyway." She smiled. "I think it was so cool, Walthers all soaked with milkshake. She was asking for it for some time now."
Hoshi felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe." She looked at Janine. "What's your next class?"
Janine checked on her timetable. "French."
"Mine too. Well, we'd better get going."
Together they went down the hallway and Hoshi felt there was a chance she might survive the day, after all.
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Note: Freaking out at the right moment can certainly improve your day.