"So, do you have a name, or am I going to have to keep referring to you as 'The Bitch Who Went Ballistic on Shane Connell's Ass This Morning'?"
"Jack," Jack retorted, slamming her locker shut and stalking off down the hall. She was still fuming in the aftermath of her encounter with the asshole squad, even though two hours had already passed since the fireworks had ended.
Was she lucky? Had the curious blonde taken offense at her rude dismissal and ditched the effort to communicate with her? A quick glance over her shoulder told her no, the tall girl who'd appeared almost out of thin air by her locker was almost jogging to catch up with her. It just really wasn't her lucky day. She tried walking faster, but the blonde caught up anyway.
Damn her, and her long legs too!
"Jack what? That some sort of swear word where you're from?" the girl asked half-pleasantly, but Jack wasn't buying it. Her whole attitude was far too world-wise. She too was probably a villain, just as much so as those boys in the lobby. It seemed her whole class was turning out to be evil.
You used to like evil.
Shut up.
Jack gave her a quick side-glance. Seeing as she wasn't going to lose her any time soon, she decided to grace the hanging question with a response containing multiple syllables. "Jack al-Walid. It's my name. And yes, I'm straight. I just hate being called Jackie." There it was. A nice, efficient response. Now hopefully this girl would fuck off and leave her the hell alone.
The girl smirked a bit, as though genuinely amused by her candor. "Hmm, Jack huh? I like that, it fits you. With the white wife beater, cargos, and combat boots you look like a Jack. Now, let me ask you another question, Jack. How the hell can I get you as a new best friend?"
"Gotta kill a few people," Jack deadpanned immediately, once again throwing a mostly-disinterested look the girl's way. "Get yourself sent to a Slam where you'll never see daylight again. Dig up a doctor, and pay him twenty menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs...so you'll be able to see who's sneaking up on you in the dark."
The girl furrowed her eyebrows, experiencing a rare moment of complete confusion. "Huh?" she finally asked.
Jack sighed tiredly. Her attempt to throw the girl seemed to have been a simple waste of time. "Nothing, just an old inside joke this guy and I used to have," she explained. "Listen, whoever you are. You look smart, so I assume you are smart, and that means that you don't wanna be friends with me. I'm a senior, and even if I wasn't, I'm just passing through. More likely than not I'll be expelled, or I'll transfer, or I'll loose my temper and end my ass up in a juvenile detention center before Homecoming. If not sooner. You see how it sort of defeats the purpose of even trying to make friends?" Jack asked as she dodged around oncoming traffic in the busy hallway, trying to make her way to some classroom somewhere in the building. She didn't know exactly where, her map had been in her pack, and her pack had incidentally been stolen from the bench where she'd left it that morning.
All the King's Horses, And All the King's Men, could not possibly fuck up Jack's day any worse than Jack can.
The girl gave her a semi-thoughtful look. "Tell you what, why don't you let me be the judge of who I choose to be friends with, Jack? Me and my group of friends sit at the table closest to the west door of the cafeteria at lunch. Sit with us today, get to know us. We like to think we're a bunch of hard ass bitches too, so maybe you'll find you have more in common with us than you think," she half-joked, but Jack knew she was serious about that much at least. They probably did consider themselves a bunch of hard ass bitches. Did girls like that come any other way?
And then there was the mystery of her motives for wanting Jack as a friend in the first place. Hell, this was probably the glitz/glam girl of the senior class, the leader of the pack of female wolves that ran rampant through just about every class in just about every high school in the galaxy. It would be wise to tread softly in her presence. Jack had learned that much dealing with all the other feminine pack leaders she'd ever encountered. However, there were benefits to associating with them, sometimes. She wasn't above using a clique to help her survive, if it made life easier.
And who knew. This pride of lionesses might just be her ticket to smooth sailing through her senior year.
It took her ten minutes to find the cafeteria at lunch. She knew she was late, and was pissed at herself for it. She hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, not especially in the mood to face Riddick and Shella while they were together and Old Horny was cooing over 'Dear Ricky', bustling about getting his lunch ready like a good little house wife. Besides the fact that there was the dog...Jack shivered just thinking about the dog.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure the lunch line out. Jack stood behind the girl at the end, waiting, trying not to appear to be staring at anyone in particular. She glanced briefly at the girl ahead of her, a short girl with curly golden hair down to her shoulders. The girl briefly gave her a tight little smile, one that said 'I'm nice, but I really hope you don't talk to me, because I'm not that nice'.
Typical. Just like every other school in the galaxy. What the hell ever happened to 'Love your neighbor'. Imam sure liked that one. Let me guess, it's a Chrislam thing...
When she finally got to the front of the line Jack picked up a tray, only to find that there was no more silverware. And just as she was starting to cuss the cafeteria for that little inconvenience she looked up to discover that one of Big Red's friends was the tall, skinny, mousey haired boy dishing up the food she'd be eating.
Or rather, the food she wouldn't be eating. His harsh, piercing blue eyes never left her face as he gave her a large serving of the burnt-to-a-crisp fish sticks located on the sides and at the back of the large stainless steel pan. And not only did they reek, but they were covered in grease left behind by the edible fish sticks they'd been cooked next to. Put together with a scoop of smashed peas and Jack was positive that she was experiencing the grossest lunch she'd had since she'd been on the run.
And even that was a stretch.
Feeling defeated, and not even remembering to pick up a milk for herself, Jack sauntered over to the table that the girl she'd met earlier was sitting at.
The blonde looked up, recognizing her. "Oh, Jack, sit here with us. I'm glad you made it...eh, what happened to your lunch?" she asked, switching subjects suddenly upon noticing the display of what could barely even be described as dog food on Jack's tray.
Jack took a seat across from the pack leader as other girls moved aside so she would have a spot to sit. "That guy, the server, he was a friend of the guy I beat up this morning. Little bit of payback, I guess," she said half-heartedly, sounding dejected.
"That's Johnny Mathews. He has to work with the lunch department as part of his probation," the girl to her left informed her, a note of sympathy present in her voice.
Jack nodded. Very typical. "Think I'll call him Johns from here on out," she mumbled, her stomach growling.
Fucking Blue Eyed Devil. Bet you're laughing at me now, aren't you Johns? Having a good time in hell laughing at Riddick, and laughing at me...
But mostly you're laughing at Riddick, right?
Hope Anderson. That was the name of Jack's 'new best friend'. She was smart, cunning, and probably ruthless. And during her lunch with them, Jack discovered that for the most part all of Hope's friends had been cut from the same mold. Heck, they were even all blonde. What a fuckin' coincidence.
It didn't seem to matter that Jack was the odd ball out. Her hair was brunette, she had more than a bit of muscle gracing her frame, she talked more to herself than to others, and most importantly of all she was not in the habit of playing games.
During seventh period math, her last class of the day, Jack mulled over the events of her already morning and afternoon. Decisions were going to have to be made about what she was going to do, if she was going to gang up with Hope's lot. She was seriously considering it. It had become more than obvious that if she was going to beat Shella at her own game, Jack would actually need to learn how to play that game. And who better to learn from than a group of teenaged professionals?
Yet the other half of her mind rebelled against the idea. She was not a fucking conformist. Never had been, never would be.
You know, it would probably be a lot easier if you just took Shella down the same way you did Big Red this morning. A lot less hassle too. No wonder everyone believed it when you said you were a boy Jack, you practically ARE one of the guys.
"Just tack on a dick and call me Mr. B. Badd," she mumbled to herself while staring out the window at a tantalizing blue-skied day. "Can't let myself fall into these traps. Only been away from home a week and already turning into..." What?
Something you're not, that's for sure.
"You'd probably still be pretty even if you did have a dick, so that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"
Jack turned around slowly to glare at whoever had interrupted her thoughts, wondering how the guy behind her could've possibly heard what she'd said, and for the briefest second she thought was losing her mind
