Part 6
What was her story? Jean was immediately suspicious of this Ivana Tempov girl. The girl was almost /too/ nice. She'd been there two days, and started at the high school.
"At least she had the sense to snub the Bitch Squad," Paris pointed out as he leaned against the locker next to hers.
Jean shrugged. "That doesn't tell us a whole hell of a lot. Why are you defending her?" Her eyes narrowed at him.
He just looked evenly back at her. "I'm not, I'm just /saying/ You live with the girl, you might actually consider being nice to this one."
Jean laughed harshly as she shut her locker. She knew she was being difficult, she couldn't help it. It was her instinctive reaction, especially when other girls came. The first worry was some prettier, normal girl was going to steal Paris from her, the second was she'd get another bitch who would make it her purpose in life to make Jean as miserable as possible. "Yeah, and I might sprout wings and fly," she sneered.
Paris snorted, a few strand of his white blond hair falling across one eye. "Yeah, knowing you, you just might."
"Oh shut up," Jean muttered, trying not to smile. How did he /do/ that? He seemed to know just the right thing to say to cheer her up. Even when she was determined to sour, he could just say something to make her feel better.
A bell ringing told her that lunch period was over now. Paris leaned forward and kissed her softly. A few lockers away Jean could hear some freshman girls muttering to each other jealously as they watched. "I'll see you after last period?"
Jean nodded, sighing as she watched him walk away. She couldn't help a little smirk as she walked past the jealous freshmen. It felt good to have someone who was unattainable to everyone but her. Paris's unwavering loyalty to her never ceased to amaze her. He'd remained her friend throughout the years, and now stayed with her as her lover. That was enough to even put a smile on her face.
In her English class Jean took her usual seat in the back next to a pale, overweight girl with long plain brown hair. Brenda Williams was only human, but actually hadn't been afraid to become Jean's only other friend. She had no idea what Jean was, she was just from a family who had moved from somewhere else and settled in.
"Where the hell were you yesterday?" Brenda asked her.
"Paris cooked me dinner," Jean answered, taking her books out her bag.
"I thought /we/ were supposed to be going to the movies," Brenda pointed out, she sounded annoyed and disappointed. "Then for pizza, I waited for you for an hour."
Jean felt a flush of guilt. "I felt a message with your brother."
"I didn't get that message," Brenda said sourly. She turned away from Jean and opened her copy of Milton's Paradise Lost, the book their class was studying.
Jean sighed as she took her own out. She was starting to think Milton had missed out the level of Hell that involved studying his damned book. She knew she shouldn't have blown Brenda off. But Paris had called, telling her he'd found a movie theatre in the next town showing /RebelWithoutaCause/ one of his favourite movies. He loved the old classics.
The original plan had been to meet Brenda at the mall and go to the movies there, and see whatever was on, as neither of them had had much to do last night. But Paris had called, and Jean just hated to see disappointment in his beautiful violet eyes.
She tried to catch Brenda after class. "Bren, I'm really, really sorry," she apologised. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." Though she didn't really have any idea how to do that. Jean sighed. She just wasn't very good at dealing with people. She hadn't had a lot of friends to cope with.
Brenda just glare at her, unhappiness plain on her face. "Yeah, sure," she bitterly, "until the next time that brat of yours needs you to blow his nose, or brush that /perfect/ white blond hair, or - or breathe for him and you'll be there faster than the speed of light to oblige him. Forget it, just don't call me anymore." She turned and stalked off.
Jean looked after her, feeling miserable herself.
"Poor girl, she should have known better than to trust a freak like you." The voice had a sing-songy tone to it. Jean knew it well. It belonged to Charlie Steigman, one of Crystal's friends who chose that unfortunate moment to pass by.
"Fuck off," Jean snapped, her bad mood was back. She turned and walked off. She was so used to this scene by now she was able to let the cruel words slide off her like water. People around her got out of her way. Jean forced her expression to remain calm and neutral. She could feel the tears, but was determined to not show any emotion. Deep inside, the words still cut her and scathed her no matter how often she might hear them.
"Hey, are you all right?" A concerned hand touched her shoulder.
Jean whirled around and flung it away, glaring at Ivana Tempov, who had appeared behind her. "None of your fucking business," she snapped.
Ivana just looked calmly back at her, Jean's anger and bitchiness just seeming to slide off her. She shrugged. "Maybe if you weren't so hostile - "
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jean interrupted. "You don't know anything about me or what my life has been like."
"I've got a fairly good idea."
Jean wanted to slap the girl. She was just /standing/ there, so calm and cool and collected, with an unmistakeable air of confidence to her. Jean felt her own rage slowly draining away, leaving her lost and empty. "What do you mean? Who are you?"
Ivana smiled. "If you let me in, someone who can answer all your questions."
Could she trust this stranger? The halls emptied, leaving the two girls alone, facing each other. Jean didn't know what to think. All her life she had ached and yearned for someone like her, someone with the same powers, who could tell her what she was, who knew what it was like to be different. It just seemed to her to be too unlikely that this Ivana Tempov girl could be the one with those so sort after answers. She didn't know why she felt that way, she just /did/.
A bleeping filled the awkward silence. It took Jean a few minutes to work out that it was her cell phone. A text message from Paris telling her to meet him at specific cabin by Lake Eremeya. They'd have a night to themselves. A smile pulled at her lips. Perfect timing, she thought.
"We'll talk later," she told Ivana, turning and hurrying away, jogging to her next class. She had waited seventeen years with no explanations, she could wait another night.
What was her story? Jean was immediately suspicious of this Ivana Tempov girl. The girl was almost /too/ nice. She'd been there two days, and started at the high school.
"At least she had the sense to snub the Bitch Squad," Paris pointed out as he leaned against the locker next to hers.
Jean shrugged. "That doesn't tell us a whole hell of a lot. Why are you defending her?" Her eyes narrowed at him.
He just looked evenly back at her. "I'm not, I'm just /saying/ You live with the girl, you might actually consider being nice to this one."
Jean laughed harshly as she shut her locker. She knew she was being difficult, she couldn't help it. It was her instinctive reaction, especially when other girls came. The first worry was some prettier, normal girl was going to steal Paris from her, the second was she'd get another bitch who would make it her purpose in life to make Jean as miserable as possible. "Yeah, and I might sprout wings and fly," she sneered.
Paris snorted, a few strand of his white blond hair falling across one eye. "Yeah, knowing you, you just might."
"Oh shut up," Jean muttered, trying not to smile. How did he /do/ that? He seemed to know just the right thing to say to cheer her up. Even when she was determined to sour, he could just say something to make her feel better.
A bell ringing told her that lunch period was over now. Paris leaned forward and kissed her softly. A few lockers away Jean could hear some freshman girls muttering to each other jealously as they watched. "I'll see you after last period?"
Jean nodded, sighing as she watched him walk away. She couldn't help a little smirk as she walked past the jealous freshmen. It felt good to have someone who was unattainable to everyone but her. Paris's unwavering loyalty to her never ceased to amaze her. He'd remained her friend throughout the years, and now stayed with her as her lover. That was enough to even put a smile on her face.
In her English class Jean took her usual seat in the back next to a pale, overweight girl with long plain brown hair. Brenda Williams was only human, but actually hadn't been afraid to become Jean's only other friend. She had no idea what Jean was, she was just from a family who had moved from somewhere else and settled in.
"Where the hell were you yesterday?" Brenda asked her.
"Paris cooked me dinner," Jean answered, taking her books out her bag.
"I thought /we/ were supposed to be going to the movies," Brenda pointed out, she sounded annoyed and disappointed. "Then for pizza, I waited for you for an hour."
Jean felt a flush of guilt. "I felt a message with your brother."
"I didn't get that message," Brenda said sourly. She turned away from Jean and opened her copy of Milton's Paradise Lost, the book their class was studying.
Jean sighed as she took her own out. She was starting to think Milton had missed out the level of Hell that involved studying his damned book. She knew she shouldn't have blown Brenda off. But Paris had called, telling her he'd found a movie theatre in the next town showing /RebelWithoutaCause/ one of his favourite movies. He loved the old classics.
The original plan had been to meet Brenda at the mall and go to the movies there, and see whatever was on, as neither of them had had much to do last night. But Paris had called, and Jean just hated to see disappointment in his beautiful violet eyes.
She tried to catch Brenda after class. "Bren, I'm really, really sorry," she apologised. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." Though she didn't really have any idea how to do that. Jean sighed. She just wasn't very good at dealing with people. She hadn't had a lot of friends to cope with.
Brenda just glare at her, unhappiness plain on her face. "Yeah, sure," she bitterly, "until the next time that brat of yours needs you to blow his nose, or brush that /perfect/ white blond hair, or - or breathe for him and you'll be there faster than the speed of light to oblige him. Forget it, just don't call me anymore." She turned and stalked off.
Jean looked after her, feeling miserable herself.
"Poor girl, she should have known better than to trust a freak like you." The voice had a sing-songy tone to it. Jean knew it well. It belonged to Charlie Steigman, one of Crystal's friends who chose that unfortunate moment to pass by.
"Fuck off," Jean snapped, her bad mood was back. She turned and walked off. She was so used to this scene by now she was able to let the cruel words slide off her like water. People around her got out of her way. Jean forced her expression to remain calm and neutral. She could feel the tears, but was determined to not show any emotion. Deep inside, the words still cut her and scathed her no matter how often she might hear them.
"Hey, are you all right?" A concerned hand touched her shoulder.
Jean whirled around and flung it away, glaring at Ivana Tempov, who had appeared behind her. "None of your fucking business," she snapped.
Ivana just looked calmly back at her, Jean's anger and bitchiness just seeming to slide off her. She shrugged. "Maybe if you weren't so hostile - "
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jean interrupted. "You don't know anything about me or what my life has been like."
"I've got a fairly good idea."
Jean wanted to slap the girl. She was just /standing/ there, so calm and cool and collected, with an unmistakeable air of confidence to her. Jean felt her own rage slowly draining away, leaving her lost and empty. "What do you mean? Who are you?"
Ivana smiled. "If you let me in, someone who can answer all your questions."
Could she trust this stranger? The halls emptied, leaving the two girls alone, facing each other. Jean didn't know what to think. All her life she had ached and yearned for someone like her, someone with the same powers, who could tell her what she was, who knew what it was like to be different. It just seemed to her to be too unlikely that this Ivana Tempov girl could be the one with those so sort after answers. She didn't know why she felt that way, she just /did/.
A bleeping filled the awkward silence. It took Jean a few minutes to work out that it was her cell phone. A text message from Paris telling her to meet him at specific cabin by Lake Eremeya. They'd have a night to themselves. A smile pulled at her lips. Perfect timing, she thought.
"We'll talk later," she told Ivana, turning and hurrying away, jogging to her next class. She had waited seventeen years with no explanations, she could wait another night.