(Author's Note: Wow, I didn't realize it's been over a year since I updated this! As of last week, I am a college graduate and have finished my student teaching, so it's time to get back to the stuff I really enjoy :))
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.
6:45am
Allison sat on the steps of Shermer High, trying to ignore her tumbling emotions by sketching. No matter what, she always carried her a purse almost as large as a duffel bag, just in case inspiration struck while she was away from her art studio. Paper simply wasn't safe around her, so she made sure to carry a lot of her own around.
She remembered, briefly, using her allotted essay paper to sketch a covered bridge. And she cringed as she remembered shedding her dandruff on it to create a snowfall. i God, I was kind of hygienically challenged! /i , she thought. She touched her hair softly, reassuring herself. Her shampoos were made mostly fruit herbal extracts and mild castile soap, leaving her hair always soft, always clean.
Returning her mind to her sketch, she struggled to streamline her thoughts, not allow them to roam all over the place. Instead of landscapes, she now did fantasy art – mostly book covers, commissions for roleplaying characters, and faeries that New Age-y shops screen-printed onto t-shirts. In fact, her periwinkle-blue faerie shirt was one of her own creations.
"Hey, that picture's as hot as my ex, Sandra – but, Jesus, I wish Sandy's boobs had been that big!" The voice came from behind her, intrusive and welcome and entirely Bender.
Allison blushed, but laughed anyway. Jumping to her feet, she swung her arms around him, still laughing, and accidentally smacking him upside the head with her sketchpad, still lodged in her hand. "Sorry!" she cried, unable to control her laugh and her grin. She stepped back to study him. The two of them had become especially close in high school. Brian still had his brain-friends, but Allison had nobody, and it was more fun to get high with Bender than it was to study with Brian.
They'd been close enough, that the several times Bender's father had thrown him out of the apartment; she'd helped him sneak into her own house, sleeping on the floor of her bedroom. Always, always, on the floor.
Bender looked healthier now – no more half-hidden bruises. His stance was easier too . . . he no longer looked like he was expecting to be hit at any moment. He looked free.
"So should I ask you what you've been doing for fifteen years, or should I wait for everyone else to get here?" she asked.
"Might as well wait – that way we don't all have to tell things fifteen times."
They settled down on the steps together and, as they did, several cars pulled up. Out of the cars stepped teens, grumpy and sleepy-eyed, reporting for their Saturday detention.
Allison had to smile. She leaned in closer to Bender and giggled, "I wonder if Vernon still runs detention!" When he laughed, she continued, "Should we ask?"
"I think we should find out." John stood, tugging Allie up by the hand. "Let's take a stroll down memory lane!"
"Hey guys!" Andrew jogged down the street towards the two adult-sized figures in his vision. He could never forget Allie's hair color, and no one but Bender would wear biker boots with slacks. "Wait up!" he called as he slowed down . . .
. . . and saw the two were holding hands.