Rating: PG
Summary: The team at Tuscadero High School, Nevada...
Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I'm back, I'm dangerous, and I'm totally PYSCHOTIC. Please don't ask why this is set in the present day: I just couldn't be bothered to send the team back into the mid-nineteen-eighties. Additionally, there are too many age gaps so large in size, that I have used Poetic Licence to shrink them. Although I think it would take a truckful of Poetic Licence to turn 15 (between Grissom, oldest, and Sara, youngest) years into 1. If you really love me, you'll ignore that. *Grins*
***
The school bell rang shrilly out through the building, rattling Catherine Willow's perfect teeth. She gave her reflection one last glance, and left the girl's bathroom. Although not particularly tall, Catherine, even at the age of fifteen, possessed shapely legs and a curvy figure. Her calculating blue eyes had a glint of intelligence - the first clue that she was no air head – and shoulder-length blonde hair fell around her face.
Upon exiting the bathroom, she was greeted by her best friend, Lindsay. Despite her Cosmo-girl looks, she was not an It-Girl, and she planned on keeping it that way. Instead, Catherine ignored cheerleading tryouts and continued on with her studies, content to know that she could make any peer group she wanted.
Lindsay smiled and hugged her best friend. "So, have a good summer?" she asked, starting toward their homeroom. Catherine – following suit – replied, "Yeah. It was OK."
"Only OK?" Lindsay enquired, shifting her text books in the crook of her arm. She was answered with a shrug, as her friend pushed open the door of room fifteen, and a wave of noise hit them. "It was fine. What about you?" Catherine let her friend in first.
"Thanks. It was great." they stopped their conversation when they took adjacent seats halfway down the classroom. Their form teacher had arrived.
***
A brunette girl sat alone at the back of the class, her face angled down as she made her way down the pages in front of her. Distracted when a paper aircraft landed on her head, she brushed it away, thinking, 'Fourteen years old and still struggling with aerodynamics. So infantile.'
Her name was Sara Sidle, and she was officially Class Swot. She'd filled the role since the age of about five, and she guessed her classmates would have it no other way. However, she disliked the thought of becoming one of those forgotten people on the edge of high school society, and so she made her claim to fame by mildly throwing her intellect in other people's faces.
Another aeroplane landed on her desk, and she craftily flipped it back at the offender, who promptly got in trouble for trying to manoeuvre it back at her. Apparently, even jocks had trouble with tact.
Her form teacher finished the register, and dismissed the unruly class. Picking up her backpack, Sara made her way to her English lesson. As she walked, she double-checked her timetable. 'Miss Lee, Room 15', she read, arriving outside the room. Before school had started, Sara had wandered around the hallways to memorise the floorplan – that was seemingly futile now: the class she was looking at now, was a class full of sophomores.
***
Gil was surprised when a freshman entered his physics class, clutching her timetable and looking confused. "Is this Miss Lee's class?" she asked, timidly. The teacher shook his head.
"Miss Lee has had her lesson relocated to the top floor." he replied, already scanning the class for a suitable chaperone for the young girl. His eyes rested on Gil, who immediately knew what was going to happen. "Uh... Grissom, take her to room twenty."
Obligingly leading the girl into the hallway, he wondered what the hell he was going to talk about all the way up three flights of stairs. As it turned out, she had quite a bit of spare confidence herself. "Was that Mr Long?" she wondered aloud, fiddling with her hair.
"Yes." came the simple reply.
"I've got a double period with him on Wednesday." Sara stated, smugly. She knew that freshman students rarely had Mr Long for any subjects.
"Oh. Bit of a science geek are we?" Gil threw back, without realising the potential hurt he could cause.
The comment did sting a little, and Sara's defence mechanism came up. "You'd think a teacher would pick a more friendly student to help an underclassmen." she shot, rounding the corner slightly behind him.
"I'm nice." he said. Sara snorted. "Well, this is it. Don't get lost again." he whispered, opening the door for her. She shot him a sweetly patronising look, and stalked into her class.
Summary: The team at Tuscadero High School, Nevada...
Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I'm back, I'm dangerous, and I'm totally PYSCHOTIC. Please don't ask why this is set in the present day: I just couldn't be bothered to send the team back into the mid-nineteen-eighties. Additionally, there are too many age gaps so large in size, that I have used Poetic Licence to shrink them. Although I think it would take a truckful of Poetic Licence to turn 15 (between Grissom, oldest, and Sara, youngest) years into 1. If you really love me, you'll ignore that. *Grins*
***
The school bell rang shrilly out through the building, rattling Catherine Willow's perfect teeth. She gave her reflection one last glance, and left the girl's bathroom. Although not particularly tall, Catherine, even at the age of fifteen, possessed shapely legs and a curvy figure. Her calculating blue eyes had a glint of intelligence - the first clue that she was no air head – and shoulder-length blonde hair fell around her face.
Upon exiting the bathroom, she was greeted by her best friend, Lindsay. Despite her Cosmo-girl looks, she was not an It-Girl, and she planned on keeping it that way. Instead, Catherine ignored cheerleading tryouts and continued on with her studies, content to know that she could make any peer group she wanted.
Lindsay smiled and hugged her best friend. "So, have a good summer?" she asked, starting toward their homeroom. Catherine – following suit – replied, "Yeah. It was OK."
"Only OK?" Lindsay enquired, shifting her text books in the crook of her arm. She was answered with a shrug, as her friend pushed open the door of room fifteen, and a wave of noise hit them. "It was fine. What about you?" Catherine let her friend in first.
"Thanks. It was great." they stopped their conversation when they took adjacent seats halfway down the classroom. Their form teacher had arrived.
***
A brunette girl sat alone at the back of the class, her face angled down as she made her way down the pages in front of her. Distracted when a paper aircraft landed on her head, she brushed it away, thinking, 'Fourteen years old and still struggling with aerodynamics. So infantile.'
Her name was Sara Sidle, and she was officially Class Swot. She'd filled the role since the age of about five, and she guessed her classmates would have it no other way. However, she disliked the thought of becoming one of those forgotten people on the edge of high school society, and so she made her claim to fame by mildly throwing her intellect in other people's faces.
Another aeroplane landed on her desk, and she craftily flipped it back at the offender, who promptly got in trouble for trying to manoeuvre it back at her. Apparently, even jocks had trouble with tact.
Her form teacher finished the register, and dismissed the unruly class. Picking up her backpack, Sara made her way to her English lesson. As she walked, she double-checked her timetable. 'Miss Lee, Room 15', she read, arriving outside the room. Before school had started, Sara had wandered around the hallways to memorise the floorplan – that was seemingly futile now: the class she was looking at now, was a class full of sophomores.
***
Gil was surprised when a freshman entered his physics class, clutching her timetable and looking confused. "Is this Miss Lee's class?" she asked, timidly. The teacher shook his head.
"Miss Lee has had her lesson relocated to the top floor." he replied, already scanning the class for a suitable chaperone for the young girl. His eyes rested on Gil, who immediately knew what was going to happen. "Uh... Grissom, take her to room twenty."
Obligingly leading the girl into the hallway, he wondered what the hell he was going to talk about all the way up three flights of stairs. As it turned out, she had quite a bit of spare confidence herself. "Was that Mr Long?" she wondered aloud, fiddling with her hair.
"Yes." came the simple reply.
"I've got a double period with him on Wednesday." Sara stated, smugly. She knew that freshman students rarely had Mr Long for any subjects.
"Oh. Bit of a science geek are we?" Gil threw back, without realising the potential hurt he could cause.
The comment did sting a little, and Sara's defence mechanism came up. "You'd think a teacher would pick a more friendly student to help an underclassmen." she shot, rounding the corner slightly behind him.
"I'm nice." he said. Sara snorted. "Well, this is it. Don't get lost again." he whispered, opening the door for her. She shot him a sweetly patronising look, and stalked into her class.