Emo Tom is Emo (V)
Sandi Griffin, Stacy Rowe, Tiffany Blum-Deckler, and Quinn Morgendorffer.
The Four Horsewomen of the Fashion Apocalypse.
Lawndale High's Self-Declared Fashion Police, the insurer's of good fashion in the hallways of their 'fine' center of academic learning.
Were rendered mute by the sheer horror of what they were witnessing walking down the street towards them.
One was a girl, a person they vaguely recalled having seen before at their school but usually ignored since she wasn't anywhere NEAR popular.
The other was a boy they hadn't seen before, and wished they never had.
They were walking hand in hand, and they were wearing... they were wearing.
"Eep!" Stacy managed to squeak out very weakly.
That broke the dam.
"I... never... have... seen... so... much... black... ever..." Tiffany Blum-Deckler managed to drawl with a valley girl accent, which made no sense
considering her Jewish last name and Asian-something ethnicity.
"OhMiGod!" Quinn wheezed, "They look even worse than my distant cousin and her weird friend!"
Sandi sniffed as the couple came within hearing range, "Hey, You two! Come here!"
The couple stopped in mid-step, the girl began to look pissed and the guy just raised an eyebrow.
"What?" He called out and took a step towards them.
"Tom!" the girl said quietly, "Let's just go. I don't want to deal with these twits!"
He turned and said, "Don't worry Andrea, I've got this."
"Ex-cuse me!" Sandi yelled, "Who are you calling a twit you, you loser!"
Tom's kohl painted sea green eyes narrowed and gave a fierce death glare at the snotty suburban princess in front of him.
"Oh please!" He sneered through a snarl of contempt, "You preppy bitches are the losers! Just look at you! Wearing what the fashion rags tell you what to wear, doing all the so-called right things because you want to fit in with a group that's doing the exact damn thing! Pfffttt!"
The raspberry that he blew had Andrea chuckling a little.
Quinn tried not to look at her (slightly) overweight frame as it moved with each chuckle.
Sandi did her best to rally with, "At least we don't' spend our time all depressed and sad like misery people!"
Andrea chortled, "You spent too much time with Tommy Sherman."
"What?! Why I never!" Sandi began stammering, Tom however asked who that was.
Andrea whispered some stuff to him, and try as they might but the other three members of the Fashion Club were unable to hear the exchange. Since Sandi wouldn't quite down in time.
"Oh..." Tom said sadly, "You had a brief love affair that ended in tragedy..." *his eyes began to tear up* "... and death!"
Andrea adopted a stoic stance as Tom sucked in a deep breath.
"Oh my poor Andrea!" He cried and pulled her into a hug, and unwittingly pulling his shirt sleeves up revealing his latest scars and cuts, "Life is so cruel and full of suffering and pain! I wish I could make you feel better..."
Andrea's stoic face gave way to a lusty grin and she said, "Oh I think you can..."
She then grabbed his face and began to neck him, right in front of the Fashion Club.
Their collective eww's and demands that they get a room echoed across Lawndale, and proved to be an aphrodisiac for Tom and Andrea.
Stacy passed out when they got to the heavy petting.
By the time the cops had been called due to an old person witnessing 'lewd and disorderly conduct' Tom and Andrea had found a nice bush to play in.
The Fashion Club, paralyzed by sheer terror at so many sexual things happening at once had born witness to all of it.
But when dragged into court found themselves unable to speak of these things, due to how confused and ucky it made them feel.
Not to mention that they were each five thousand dollars richer, courtesy of Angier Sloane.