TW for brief use of ableist language
Bobbi woke up feeling terrible, but it wasn't her knee or her ribs that were bothering her. It was her nerves. Normally, she didn't get nervous about most things. Stuff with her dad had been an obvious exception, but things like school and tests and soccer games usually didn't rattle her. Everything was different here, though, and the prospect of her first day was turning her into a basket case.
Up until now, she hadn't really had time to think about how new and different everything was going to be from this point on. The first day had been a whirlwind, with Miss Hand whisking her from the hospital to her house – her old house, now – to get her stuff to the Coulsons' house, and with so many people to meet and get used to. The kids, Skye and Jemma, seemed okay. They asked a lot of questions, but she knew they didn't mean any harm. They were trying to be friendly, at least, even if the smaller one, Jemma, seemed painfully shy. Bobbi had never been a big talker, she preferred to let her actions speak for themselves most of the time, but Jemma made her look like a chatterbox.
They also hadn't ratted her out about her batons, at least as far she could tell. She had spent the whole day with May yesterday and the woman hadn't said a word, so Bobbi figured they hadn't told. It might not be a big deal to May and Phil that she had them, but there was no way to be sure. Miss Hand didn't seem to mind when she had asked her for pens in the hospital and she didn't say anything when Bobbi packed the batons in her duffel, but her dad had always hated her twirling. Said it made her look like a "flippy spaz." Bobbi shook herself to stop his voice from ringing in her ears. She wasn't going to be a spaz here if she could help it. She had gotten good at hiding things from grownups, her dad especially. She figured that would come in handy now that she was going to be moving from house to house and from parents to parents.
Her fingers twitched, and she took a steadying breath, trying to fight the urge to twirl. She wasn't sure what time it was, and she didn't want to chance someone walking in and catching her. Just because her new sisters thought her batons were cool didn't mean May and Phil would.
They seemed nice, though, May and Phil. May had helped her up the stairs that first night, and was kind enough not to bring it up the next day. She hadn't said anything about the fall, or about how Bobbi had flipped out at her and Phil when she thought he was her dad. In fact, most of the day yesterday May had let Bobbi take the lead on what they talked about, which had been a refreshing change of pace from the constant barrage of questioning that Bobbi felt like she had been enduring ever since she had landed in the hospital. They had talked about basic stuff, like what classes Bobbi might like to sign up for at the school and what Bobbi liked to eat for breakfast in the mornings, but May had also been fine with the quiet. Bobbi had appreciated that.
The doctor's office had been a little different, since the doctor practically wanted to know everything there ever was to know about her. Most of the info he had wanted was pretty basic, so it wasn't hard to relay it all, even if she was beyond tired of reciting the same things about herself and her life over and over again. When it had been time to talk about how she had gotten hurt she all of the sudden felt her voice fly away from her, but luckily May had read all of the paperwork from the hospital that Miss Hand had brought over, so she was able to fill in the gaps that Bobbi couldn't.
Besides being a little too nosy for Bobbi's taste, the doctor seemed okay though. He told her and May that he worked with a lot of kids who were athletes and that he had a good track record when it came to getting his patients back out on the field. That had cheered Bobbi up more than she wanted to admit. She hadn't told May anything about all the anxiety that caused her stomach to curdle every time she thought about not being able to play soccer anymore, but something told her that May already knew. It was like the woman had a sixth sense or something.
They had gone over to the high school after that, to meet Phil. Thankfully, he didn't say anything about the previous night either, but Bobbi wasn't sure if that was because he was being nice or if it was because he was too excited about lunch to comment on her late-night freak out. Apparently the restaurant they went to – some retro-looking diner that, admittedly, did have some seriously good blueberry pie – was one of his favorites. Their waitress had greeted him and May by name, so Bobbi figured they must be regulars.
There had been other things, too, like getting her class schedule worked out and taking a quick tour of the school building, and by the time she and May had returned to the Coulsons' house, she was exhausted. She had disappeared into the den and propped her throbbing knee up the minute they cleared the front door, and May hadn't seemed to mind. Maybe she could tell that Bobbi needed some space.
Still, in all the excitement, she hadn't really had time to dwell on just how frightening the prospect of a new school was. She wasn't even used to waking up in a different bed in a different house, and now all of the sudden she was expected to walk… to crutch, technically, into a brand new school full of new kids she had never met before. She had gone to school with the same people since she was five years old up until now. She had never had to worry about anything being new.
Her stomach flipped over like a pancake once again, and she eased herself up into a sitting position, careful not to jostle her knee or her ribs too much. Her ribs were actually feeling a lot better, just sore when she took too deep a breath, mostly, but she was still trying to be careful. That was one of the things the doctor had said yesterday: "no unnecessary exertion."
Her fingers twitched again, and with a grimace, she gave in to the urge. She slid her batons out from under her pillow where she'd been stashing them. She knew herself well enough to know that nothing else would make her feel remotely better about the day she had ahead of her, and she figured it was worth the risk if it meant she could get rid of the queasy butterflies that were parading around in her gut.
Once she had calmed her nerves slightly, she wasted no time in making her bed, getting dressed, and tossing some basic supplies into her backpack before hauling herself down the hall to the kitchen, crutches thumping the whole way. May was sitting at the table with a mug in her hand, and Phil was nowhere to be seen.
"Good morning," May greeted her over the rim of the mug with a warm smile. "You're up earlier than expected."
"Oh." Bobbi felt her cheeks grow warm. "I'm sorry, I can go back—"
"No, no, that's not what I meant," May assured her. "Phil's upstairs waking Skye and Jemma up. I was going to come and get you up once he came down, but you beat me to it, that's all."
"Okay." Bobbi eased herself into an empty chair that May had pulled out for her and accepted the empty bowl that was handed to her. She was filling it with cereal when Phil bustled into the kitchen, trying to walk and tie his tie at the same time.
"The girls are up," he said as he joined May and Bobbi at the table. "They'll be down soon. Skye seems to be in a much better mood than she was last night, so that's a plus." He filled his own bowl and took a bite before turning his attention on Bobbi fully.
"Good morning," he said. His voice was chipper, and his eyes had that twinkly look in them that, in a weird way, reminded Bobbi of a cartoon Santa Claus. "How are you feeling?" Feeling. Feeling. How was she feeling? Jumbled up and kind of overwhelmed. She decided to stick with the physical and avoid the emotional.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "Still sore, I guess, but a little less stiff than yesterday."
"That's good," May nodded. "That was one of the things the physical therapist said we should be looking out for. You can take some medicine before school, if you want." Bobbi nodded appreciatively. The pain meds did a good job of numbing the pain in her knee, and, if she was being honest, they did a good job of numbing some of the other things she was feeling, too.
"What about school?" Phil asked. "How are you feeling about that?" Bobbi suddenly became intensely interested in her cornflakes, jabbing her spoon in with a little more force than was probably necessary. She quirked her mouth to one side, trying to decide how much to say. Her dad usually tried to stay away from touchy-feely questions like that, and her old friends weren't the type to ask how you were feeling, unless it was about an upcoming game or some random boy.
"Weird," she settled. She hoped that would be enough for now. She wasn't sure she knew how to elaborate.
"That's understandable," Phil said with a nod. "It's not easy to start at a new school, especially when you've never done it before."
"The first day is usually the hardest," added May. "Everything seems less scary once you've already made it through the first time."
"I'll be there all day if you need anything," said Phil. "And I know a bunch of nice kids who I could connect you with, if you're interested."
"That's okay," Bobbi said quickly. She hoped her voice hadn't sounded too harsh. She didn't intend for it to be mean, but she had enough sense to know that asking a teacher to set her up with friends on her first day was probably not the most auspicious way to start her career at Manitowoc High School.
"You're probably right," Phil chuckled. "I forgot for a second how precise high school politics can be. Seriously uncool for a teacher to stick you with a welcome buddy." He laughed again, and this time May joined him. All Bobbi could offer was a weak smile.
The kitchen was soon filled with the hectic activity of Skye and Jemma, who took some of the attention off of Bobbi. Skye looked bleary-eyed, but wolfed down her breakfast, while Jemma picked at hers until Bobbi was sure the cereal had turned to mush. Jemma didn't seem to mind, however, because she ate with much more haste afterwards. May chatted with the younger girls while they ate, asking what they had planned for the day and checking with Skye to make sure she had remembered to put her homework in her backpack, while Phil began popping from one side of the room to the other, gathering up his things and clearing the table.
"Oh, and you both made sure to get those parent-teacher forms Miss Hill wanted us to fill out?" May asked, giving Skye and Jemma a pointed look as she finished what was left of her tea. "Phil and I picked some times next week that were back-to-back so we could have both of your meetings on the same night." Jemma nodded and Skye grumbled something that Bobbi couldn't fully make out but seemed to be in the affirmative. Bobbi remembered how reluctant Skye had seemed when she slid the crumpled form across the table last night at dinner.
"Good girl," said May, giving them both a smile that appeared to put them at ease. Jemma at least lost the deer in the headlights look she had been wearing, and Skye sat up a little straighter.
"We're excited to meet your teachers," Phil told them, clipping his bag shut and making his way towards the door. "I mean, I've already met most of them, of course, but I'm excited to meet them as a parent and not a coworker." He glanced around and checked to make sure they had all finished eating before telling them to grab their things and meet him at the car. Skye and Jemma scampered off, leaving May and Bobbi alone once again.
"You're going to do great today," said May. Her face was straight and plain-looking – a serious face, but not a stern one. Just one of someone who believed what they were saying. "Be yourself, and don't be afraid to ask for help. It's a lot to take in all at once." Bobbi nodded and felt herself clenching her jaw. Everything about the last few days had been a lot to take in. School was just one more thing to add to the list. May smiled then and made sure Bobbi had taken her meds before shooing her out the door and towards Phil and the car.
Phil dropped Skye and Jemma off at the middle school first, and they wasted no time in bounding off across the blacktop.
"I guess they must like their new school," Bobbi said to herself. Phil, having heard her, smiled.
"It took them a few days. They were both really nervous at first. Neither one of them talked to me at all on the car ride over on that first day." Bobbi had no trouble believing that Jemma had been silent before starting school, but she found herself feeling surprised to hear about Skye. "I think the biggest thing that helped them feel better was making a friend. Once you have that one person who you know you can talk to, things get a little easier."
"I guess so," mused Bobbi. She wondered if that was one of the reasons why her life back in Two Rivers had felt so out of control all the time. She hadn't had anyone who she could talk to, really talk to, about the things that were going on in her life. Sometimes it had felt like every interaction she had with her classmates was all one big performance.
"So, I know it's not exactly hip to hang out with your foster dad while you're at school," Phil said as he steered their car into the high school parking lot, "but if you're interested, the AV club is meeting today at lunch. The kids there are really nice, and if you ask me, it beats navigating the cafeteria jungle. No pressure of course, just know you're invited."
"Thanks," Bobbi said, and she really meant it. Lunch was always the hardest part of any day, since there weren't the same clear objectives as there were in the classroom. She figured she could play it by ear, but knowing that there was someplace to fall back on served as a comfort.
"Well, school awaits," Phil announced, shutting the car off and grabbing his satchel. "Do you need any help getting in?" Bobbi shook her head and began the process of extracting herself and her crutches from the car. Phil, to his credit, let her work her way out on her own, and didn't stand too close to her as they headed into the building together.
For as much as Bobbi had been worried about the newness of her new school, there wasn't really a lot to differentiate the halls of Manitowoc High from her old school in Two Rivers. Same linoleum floors, although these had beige tiles instead of white, same walls of lockers, same hordes of kids flooding the halls like enormous schools of fish traveling through a stream. There were more trophies in the case in the front hall, and a number of boys who were actually wearing letterman jackets. Kids in Two Rivers didn't wear those kinds of jackets, even if they had varsity letters. She had honestly thought letterman jackets were something you only really saw in movies, but here she was surrounded by a whole pack of beefy-looking jocks all wearing the same red and black jackets. So that was new.
A few kids gave her an odd look as she propelled herself down the hall, crutches clacking against the tiles, but no one seemed interested enough to actually make a comment. She had made sure to put on long sleeves when she got dressed that morning, so no one could notice the bruises that still spotted up and down her arms at least.
Finding a relatively calm alcove, Bobbi ducked inside and propped herself up against the wall so she could dig in her pocket for the paper schedule that the secretary had printed out for her yesterday.
"Haven't seen you around here before," came a deep voice from the shadows behind her. The blood in her veins turned to ice and she whirled around wildly, searching for the person who had spoken. Without thinking, she swung one of her crutches in a wide arc, and it didn't take long for the metal to collide with something, making a dull thwump. The thing she had hit made a grunt of pain, and she realized it was a person.
"Whoa, that's some serious hardware you're rocking there." A boy stepped into the light, massaging his hip, where apparently Bobbi had struck him. He was tall, one of the tallest high schoolers Bobbi had ever seen, and nearly as broad. He had dark skin, solid, wide shoulders, big, strong-looking hands, and, thankfully, was wearing a smile despite the fact that Bobbi had just attacked him for no reason.
"I'm so sorry," Bobbi spluttered, lowering her crutch back to the ground and teetering closer to him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It'd take more than a little swing like that to do any real damage," the boy assured her. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you've got quite an arm, but it's all good. I shouldn't have startled you." He paused, then extended his hand. "My name's Mack."
Balancing carefully, Bobbi gave his hand a quick shake before introducing herself. "I'm Bobbi. I'm new."
"That's what I figured," the boy, Mack, said with a chuckle. "I'm pretty good with faces, and I thought I hadn't seen yours before. You a sophomore too?"
"You're a sophomore?" Bobbi asked incredulously. The kid was a whole head taller than her, and she wasn't exactly short. She caught herself. "Sorry, you probably get that all the time."
"You're not wrong about that," he admitted. "Perks of being the big guy. I won't hold it against you, though." He smiled again, and Bobbi felt her own face rearranging itself to match his expression. It was like she couldn't help but return his friendly look, and she had Phil's words about finding one friend and May's about asking for help echoing in her head. She decided to take the plunge.
"Think you could help me find Ms. Diaz's homeroom?" she asked, gesturing towards the paper in her other hand. "This place is a little bigger than my old school and it's kind of a maze."
"Definitely," Mack said, stepping back out into the hubbub of the hallway. "I'm in there, too, actually. Your last name must start with something between an 'L' and a 'Q' if we're in there together."
"It's an 'M,'" said Bobbi as she followed behind him. Mack's size meant that there was a much clearer path for her to travel on, as kids seemed to part around him in the hall.
"Last name buddies," Mack called over his shoulder. Bobbi scrunched up her brow in confusion. Mack clarified. "Mackenzie. That's my last name. Also an 'M,' so we're, like, name buddies."
"Oh." Bobbi was quiet for a minute, focused on keeping up with Mack's long strides. It wasn't until they arrived at Ms. Diaz's classroom and Mack led her to an empty stool at a lab table before she spoke again.
"Thanks for the help," she told him, lowering herself onto the stool and leaning her crutches up against the edge of the table.
"No problem." He took the seat next to her without missing a beat, and Bobbi was surprised at how pleased she found herself feeling that Mack didn't seem interested in dumping her right away. "What classes do you have today?"
Bobbi pushed her schedule over towards him, and he glanced over it briefly.
"Not too bad," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "You'll be back in here for bio later on this morning, Mrs. Diaz is cool… Watch out for Mrs. Hampton in English, she's a tough grader." He paused, cocking his head to one side slightly. "Wow, you must have a thing for languages. You've got advanced Spanish and French on here. Are you multilingual or something?"
Bobbi shook her head and felt the corners of her mouth curl into an embarrassed sort of half-smile. "I just like languages. I took French and Spanish at my old school, and I was going to try and cross register with one of the UW branch campuses next year to try and start something like Mandarin or Russian, but now I go here, I guess, so I don't know if I can do that anymore." She clamped her mouth shut. She was rambling for some reason. Why was she rambling? Mack wasn't going to care about how she had wanted to take Mandarin, and if she wasn't careful, talking about moving could quickly turn into talking about her dad, which she did not want to do under any circumstances.
"A real smarty-pants, then," Mack said. His eyes were bunched up in a happy look, so Bobbi figured he was doing the friendly kind of teasing, rather than making fun of her. "That's cool. Everybody's got to have their thing."
Their conversation was interrupted by the morning announcements crackling over the intercom, and by Mrs. Diaz taking roll. She paused when she spotted Bobbi sitting next to Mack and took a moment to rifle through a couple of papers on her desk.
"You're Morse?" the teacher asked, not unkindly.
Bobbi nodded. "Bobbi. With an 'i' not a 'y,'" she explained. She wanted to make sure she said her own name before Mrs. Diaz felt the need to call out 'Barbara' instead. Luckily, Mrs. Diaz just made a small note on her sheet and smiled at her.
"Welcome to Manitowoc High."
Bobbi and Mack parted ways after homeroom, although not before she had Mack point her in the direction of Mr. Gonzales' Spanish class.
"I'll see you later on," he called as he started heading in the opposite direction. "We have history together in 4th period." He didn't disappear completely into the crowd after that, he was too tall to ever completely vanish, Bobbi figured, but the strong currents of students had pulled them far enough apart that Bobbi knew it was pointless to try and reply. Giving the handles of her crutches a quick squeeze as a way to steel her nerves, Bobbi plunged herself into the fray and thumped her way towards the classroom Mack had directed her to.
It took less time to find the room than Bobbi had expected, so she had a few minutes to take in the room before class started. It was a standard classroom, with some maps and flags hung up on the walls for decoration, and a spidery-looking plant resting on the windowsill. Most of the other students were lounging at their desks, scrolling through their phones or chatting with the other kids around them. If Bobbi had to guess, based on the disaffected looks on most of their faces, she would have said most of these kids were seniors. She felt her shoulders tense. She wasn't intimidated by older kids, necessarily, but the prospect of being both the new kid and the youngest kid in the class made her senses feel like they were kicked into overdrive. She quickly decided that her best strategy would be to blend in and not draw attention, so she headed for an empty desk near the back.
The seat she chose was one removed from a lithe girl with bright red hair cut in a tousled bob. The girl was playing a game of hangman on a scrap of paper with a solidly built blonde guy who looked bored out of his mind. He had a serious cowlick, so the front of his hair stuck up at a funny angle. Whether or not the cowlick was intention styling or the result of forgetting to comb his hair that morning, Bobbi wasn't sure.
Her plan to go unnoticed was immediately foiled by the red-headed girl, whose eyes instantly locked onto Bobbi as she tried to ease into her desk without knocking her crutches against too many things.
"Are you in this class?" the girl asked. Her tone was short, and her gaze was unwavering. An angry face? Or maybe just one looking for answers. Bobbi hoped it was the latter. She wasn't interested in getting some senior girl mad at her before class had even started.
"I think so," Bobbi told her. She tried to keep her own voice steady and to hold the other girl's gaze. As nervous and out of place as she felt, there was no way she was going to cower to anyone. She had faced down girls twice the redhead's size on the soccer field without a second thought. This was just another game. "This is Spanish with Mr. Gonzales, right?"
"Yeah." The girl didn't look convinced. "I've never seen you in here before, though."
"I'm new," Bobbi muttered. She didn't offer any further explanation. Nothing about this girl so far had indicated to Bobbi that she deserved any more details than absolutely necessary.
"Oh," the girl's face immediately softened, and she leaned back in her seat. "Okay, cool. Welcome to Spanish, then. I'm Natasha."
"Bobbi."
"And this," Natasha jabbed her thumb over her shoulder towards the blonde boy, who was still doodling away on the scrap of paper, "is Clint. Say hi, Clint." The boy, Clint didn't move or acknowledge Natasha at all. Natasha rolled her eyes and flashed Bobbi a smile before turning to Clint. She flicked him on the shoulder, then made a gesture with her hand. She hooked her pointer finger and tapped it twice against the side of her head, right above her ear. Clint looked surprised for a split second before reaching up and fiddling with something in his ears.
"He forgets sometimes," Natasha informed Bobbi, as if that explained everything. "Clinton, say hello to Bobbi. She's new."
"Don't call me that," he grumbled. "Hi Bobbi, I'm Clint. Welcome to stop one on the Snoozefest Express."
"Um, what?" Bobbi scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. She had no idea what Clint was talking about.
"He's just being a grouch because he thinks – incorrectly, I might add – that Spanish is a boring class. And because I made him turn on his hearing aids. Sometimes he can get away with leaving them off all class, so he doesn't have to hear Gonzales talk, but when he does that, I end up having to go over everything with him later, so I try to make sure he remembers, for both of our sakes."
"Oh." Bobbi wasn't sure what to do with the bundle of new information that Natasha had just dumped in her lap. Her brain latched on a piece that she felt like she could turn into decent small talk. "Is it? A boring class, I mean?"
"Painfully," Clint said, crumpling up the hangman game and tossing the paper towards the garbage can. It went in without touching the side of the can at all. Swish.
"It depends on who you ask," Natasha supplied, cutting Clint off. "Gonzales is a bit of a curmudgeon, but he knows his stuff, and everything that we learn is super practical. Plus, we get to read actual literature and stuff, not just grammar worksheets all the time like you get in the lower levels. If you actually care about learning Spanish, you won't be bored."
"I like languages," Bobbi said for the second time that morning. Natasha smiled again.
"Then you'll be fine." Fine. Fine. Fine. For some reason, it was easy to believe Natasha, and Bobbi felt like things actually were going to be fine in this class.
"Are you both seniors?" asked Bobbi. She was curious if her assumption from earlier had been right. Natasha nodded.
"Yeah, what about you? It must be hard to move right at the start of senior year. Where'd you come from?"
"Oh, no, I'm not…" Bobbi paused, trying to backpedal and figure out how to answer multiple questions at once. "I'm a sophomore. I just moved here from Two Rivers."
"Oh, wow, so you must really like languages, then." Natasha looked impressed. "If you're taking this class as a sophomore, I mean." Bobbi just shrugged, unsure of how to respond.
Fortunately, she was saved from having to do so by the arrival of Mr. Gonzales. He was a portly Latino man with shiny grey hair and a droopy mustache. He looked grandfatherly, or at least, what Bobbi imagined someone who looked grandfatherly to be like. She had never met any of her own grandparents, since they had died before she was born. The most interesting thing about him, in Bobbi's opinion, was the silver-handled cane that he walked with. He had a considerable limp, and the cane thumped slightly with each step he took, and Bobbi couldn't help but be reminded of her own thumping steps on her crutches. He struck her as the kind of teacher with high standards and little time for people who messed around, and something about him filled her with a desire to exceed whatever expectations he might have of her.
"Saque sus libros y pase a la pagina 71," he announced. His voice was gravelly and held little warmth, but Bobbi wasn't bothered. She was more concerned that she didn't have a book to take out like the rest of the class. She raised her hand. Mr. Gonzales noticed her then, and his bushy eyebrows crept up his forehead.
"Ah, new student," he said. "No book?" Bobbi shook her head. He gestured towards a shelf near the door with his cane. "Puedes tomar uno."
Bobbi began the process of clambering to her feet and arranging her crutches, but Mr. Gonzales noticed and help up a hand to stop her.
"Clint, tráeselo, por favor." Clint looked up at their teacher blankly, until Natasha mumbled something to him out of the corner of her mouth. Once he had gotten the furtive translation assistance, he quickly retrieved the book and handed it over to Bobbi, flashing a big smile towards Mr. Gonzales.
"No problemo, señor," he announced, his American accent still thick. Natasha was biting back a laugh and Mr. Gonzales just shook his head, but made no further comment.