Edge of Awareness
Lady DeathAngel
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: language
A/N: So, here's chapter three. I've finally finished chapter six and will be sending that off to my lovely and wonderful beta, Neoinean today, which is happy news. Also, Beast Boy/Gar is finally introduced in this chapter! Exciting. So, please read, enjoy, and as always, review. I'd love to hear what you think so far.
Intrigued
San Paulo High School was a school famous for its star athletes, high test scores, and college turnout. At orientation they passed out huge, glossy folders full of numbers and percentages that impressed the right people, usually the rich ones. They had a credo, something about service to the community, to the school, to the city, and to the country. It was engraved on the gold plaque outside of Principal Selnar's office.
Raven didn't pay much attention to it. The principal, a tall, stately woman whose short hair was spiked and frosted gray, pointed it out to her. She told Raven (whom she referred to as Ms. Roth in a deep, authoritative tone) that she would, as a student at San Paulo High School, be expected to memorize the credo as well as the school song.
"We like to promote solidarity, especially during the coming months," Mrs. Selnar explained as they made their way to a wide desk in the front office. "The annual Homecoming Pep Rally is in three weeks time and you'll be expected to sing the school's fight song along with everyone else."
She informed Raven that San Paulo discouraged lack of school spirit. Raven thought that they were really discouraging individuality and the right to refuse to do something as stupid as sing a fight song. The looks that Selnar kept shooting her indicated she was well aware of Raven's thoughts, and a few comments about the fates of loners in San Paulo were obviously meant to intimidate her.
Raven wasn't easily intimidated. Besides, it was only for a few months and then she was gone. After she graduated she'd move somewhere else and never have to see Mrs. Selnar, or San Paulo's credo, ever again.
"As I'm sure Ms. Halliwell has informed you," Selnar said as Raven was handed a student handbook and several papers to sign. "Today's dress code is relaxed. The Student Government has sponsored a free dress day. Usually the dress code is only relaxed on Friday's. The rest of the week we wear uniforms. Girls are to wear crisp, white, button down blouses with either a plain black tie or one with black and red stripes. Blazers and sweaters are optional. Black slacks are permitted, but black pleated skirts no shorter than mid-thigh are preferred. Black socks are required and knee-high length is preferable, as are black shoes. Facial piercings, tattoos, and unconventional hair colors are not permitted. The ramifications of being out of dress code are detailed in the student handbook, along with what is considered appropriate attire for days on which the dress code is relaxed."
Raven frowned at the thought of pleated skirts and ties and blazers. She balked at the thought of having to shop for and wear a uniform at all. She finished signing random pieces of paper thrust at her and stuffed the student handbook into her messenger bag. Mrs. Selnar nodded at her and handed her two more sheets of paper.
"One of those has your locker number and combination," she said. "The other has your course schedule and on the back you will find our common bell schedules. Today is a regular start which means all classes commence at precisely eight o'clock. Now, any questions Ms. Roth?"
Raven glanced down at her schedule and shook her head.
"Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."
Selnar swept back into her office, closed her door, and left Raven standing in the school's main office feeling mutinous. With a deep frown she stalked out of the room and into hallways that were filling steadily with students.
San Paulo was a far cry from every other school Raven had ever been to. Small town schools were never very big, but San Paulo was smaller than any school she'd ever attended. According to some figures Selnar had thrown out, there were only four hundred and eighty students in attendance. They were all the best of the best (or the richest of the rich) and Raven was sure that with that kind of supercilious attitude running the school, she was a long way from ignorant dreamers and well into it with intelligent elitists.
Not that they made it easy to tell they were snobs. From the way the girls were dressed you would think San Paulo was famous for the number of students who went on to star in bad porno flicks rather than the number that went on to college. The boys were dressed in the standard jean-and-t-shirt fare with a few variations on the theme. The girls were a completely different story. For the longest time Raven had blended into the crowd with her hooded sweatshirts, faded jeans, and baggy cargo pants.
Here, she stood out.
Every corner she turned on the way to her locker led to another corridor full of tanned girls wearing as little as possible. They preened and checked each others' makeup, tugged their shirts until they were lined up just so beneath their boobs, adjusted skirts that were too short to be legal, or squirmed in capris and jeans that looked too tight to allow proper breathing. Raven's own pants were loose and hung off of her waist, and her hoodie was a little short. The only skin she ever showed, face and hands aside, was a small strip just below her bellybutton and that was only because she had owned the hoodie since she'd been in the seventh grade. There was a certain amount of sentimental value that was automatically attached to something you'd had that long.
Still, she tugged it down self-consciously and wondered what had happened to Selnar's strict enforcement of the dress code. If anything, the only rule seemed to be that there were no rules. She'd have to flip through her student handbook. Maybe it was somewhere between 'too much skin is never enough' and 'all articles of clothing must be at least two sizes too small.'
The senior corridor was empty by the time Raven got to it, for which she was grateful. She was tired of being on the receiving end of dirty looks. No matter how much she expected them and no matter how little they bothered her on a personal level, it was too early in the morning for Raven to be patient and all she wanted was to be back in Kingsland with Arella, curled up under a mountain of blankets with a book.
"I didn't think it would be this hard," Raven whispered to herself as she halted in front of her locker.
With a soft groan she took hold of the lock and spun the combination. She didn't foresee visiting her locker that often. She'd always been more inclined to stuff as much into her bag as it could take without splitting and going to her locker only for emergencies. She just didn't have the time to waste on them. She tossed a few things in anyway, stuff that she didn't particularly need but that she might want at some point; a few books lined on the shelf, extra notebooks and pens at the bottom of the locker, and a mirror that Linda had given her with a convenient magnet for the inside of the door.
"Dude, aren't you hot in that?" a voice asked from behind her.
Raven whirled around only to find herself face to face with a . . . green boy. He wasn't very tall. In fact, he was no taller than Raven herself, and she wasn't tall at all. Not that he seemed daunted by his lack of height. Then again, if Raven had green skin, she probably wouldn't care about much else either. His hair was a deep shade of black and cut short in a way that exaggerated his angular jaw, his eyes were dark, and he had the look of someone who was quick with a grin and a laugh. She lifted an eyebrow and tentatively pushed the hood from her head.
"Excuse me?"
He smirked at her.
"You're wearing a sweatshirt in September," he said, as if that explained everything.
She glanced off to the side and then back at him.
"Yeah? So?"
He chuckled.
"No need to get defensive. It's just that usually free dress days are a girl's excuse to dress like a slut and you're . . . not."
Raven nodded slowly and turned to close her locker, throwing 'go away now' vibes in his direction with all her might. When she turned back around, it was obvious that he hadn't gotten the point. The boy was still there, staring intently at her with a small smile on his face. Finally he extended his hand.
"I'm Garfield Logan, but nobody calls me by my full name."
Raven sighed and took his hand in hers, shaking it briefly.
"So what do I call you then?" she asked, partly to be polite but mostly because no one had ever stuck around this long when she was trying her best to look creepy and not-very-friendly-at-all.
He shrugged and linked his hands behind his head, stretching his white t-shirt across a surprisingly lean and muscled chest.
"Well, there's the ever-popular Freak, but most people don't say that one to my face. Then there's Buddy, Pal, Green Dude, Hey-can-I-borrow-some-cash? and Gar."
Raven bit her lip and smirked.
"I think I'll use the latter, but the one before that has its charm and appeal, too."
Gar laughed. "You're not so bad," he told her. "Even if you do dress kinda weird."
"Thanks," Raven told him dryly. "I really appreciate that."
He grinned at her. "Anytime."
Raven shook her head at him and turned, falling back to lean against the lockers. He did the same and they both turned their heads to look at each other.
"So, what's your name?"
"Rachel Roth, but nobody I actually like calls me that."
Gar's eyebrows lifted and he nodded slowly.
"Oh? So . . . what do people you actually like call you?"
"Well . . . back home there was the ever-popular Freak, Creepy Chick, Spawn of Satan, Daughter of Evil, and Raven."
Gar stared at her like he was trying to figure out if she was serious or not. Finally he nodded.
"Creative. I kinda like that 'Spawn of Satan' one myself, but I guess Raven's cool, too." His smile brightened. "Sooooo," he said, drawling out the word. "Where do you hail from, oh Princess of Darkness?"
Raven snorted and shrugged. "A small town about five hours from here. I just moved to Jump City yesterday, and now I live with my dear old dad and his fiancée."
"Don't sound so excited."
Raven rolled her eyes. "I didn't even know he existed until a few weeks ago," she said. "He's insanely rich, though, and his girlfriend's okay. She's an English teacher here, I guess."
Gar's eyes widened and he turned his body to face her.
"Your dad's not Trent Ryder, is he?"
Raven nodded slowly and Gar laughed.
"Nuh-uh! Dude, my dad's always eating lunch or dinner with your dad."
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack! My dad's, like, the fifth richest man in the world, so he's always chatting it up with people like your dad. You know, they're both rich and everything. No offense, Raven, but your dad's kinda boring. And Ms. Halliwell is a ditz."
Raven smirked. "Yeah, none taken. So, does this mean I'll be seeing you around a lot on weekends?"
Gar shrugged and winked at her.
"Only if you're lucky."
