Chapter Two: A Special Kind of Fresh Meat
The bell rang, and as Emma was stepping out into the hallway, the deep voice of Mr. Booth called her back in.
"Yes, Mr. Booth?" Emma smiled politely.
He looked at her seriously. "You're special Miss Swan," he stated, erasing the board.
Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If I had a nickel..." she trailed off sarcastically.
"Perhaps the reason why so many people tell you so is because it's true. You're obviously smart - you wouldn't be in the class if you weren't - but there is so much potential in you, not only to be an exceptional student, but to also be exceptional in so many other ways as well."
Emma was struck by his compliment, but pretended to brush it off. She didn't want him to know that she thought he had meant 'special' in more of a 'mental issues' way, or that this was the first time anyone ever thought her exceptional at anything except for screwing up.
"Thank you," she stammered, remembering to be polite.
Mr. Booth stopped his work and focused solely on her. "I think these first months, however be they the last as well, will be bright ones for you, and hopefully, even better after you graduate. And, Emma," he said, using her name for the first time, "I hope you have an extraordinary experience in this hell hole." He smirked as a form of dismissal.
Ms. French was right, Emma thought as she shoved her books in her locker, Mr. Booth is an amazing teacher.
When she scuttled to the base of the staircase (English, as Ms. French had directed, was located upstairs) she was surprised to see Mary Margaret waiting for her.
"Hi Emma!" she greeted cheerily.
"You didn't have to..." Emma began.
"But I wanted to," Mary Margaret's smile only seemed brighter in her all-white apparel. "Besides," she continued, "first days can be tough, and I thought you might want someone to eat lunch with."
Emma was about to protest, but saw the sincere generosity in her classmate's voice. Plus, she hadn't talked to a girl her age in months. (Bickering with her foster sisters, Aurora and Ella, didn't count.) And with Gold's deal in the back of her mind, she could be sure not to get into any trouble with an angel like Mary Margaret acting as an extra conscience. So Emma smiled in agreement, not nearly as brilliantly as Mary Margaret, but a smile nonetheless.
A horde of teenaged pack animals were surging onto the quad for lunch, the two girls out-of-place among them. To Emma, the sight of desperation for nearly inedible food was nauseating. A plain PB&J was a step up from human cadavers tossed in a mix of spaghetti sauce. Mary Margaret on the other hand, remained unfazed and in a form of oblivion as to what primitive behavior her peers were manifesting. It wasn't too difficult to figure out why - David Nolan, captain of the football team, and winner of Mr. 'McDreamy' in every single girl's diary was strutting across the parking lot in his Letterman jacket as if he owned the place. Mostly because he did own Storybrooke, along with his gorgeous girlfriend who was sashaying along with him: the infamous head-bitch Regina Mills, who was also mentioned in every Ugly Betty's daily journal entries. Except instead of imagining steamy make out scenes as girls did with David Nolan, they fantasized about decapitating Regina and throwing her corpse onto the lunch menu. No one would mind except for David, seemingly ignorant of the possibility that a person could be anything less than nice. Sadly, Mary Margaret was no different. She would absolutely melt if David just smiled in her direction, or said a brief 'hello' while passing in the hallway. What set Mary Margaret apart from all the other suitors was that she was supportive of his relationship with his girlfriend. And this people secretly admired her for, earning her the discreet attentions of Victor Whale, the resident Science Whiz on campus.
Where Emma was concerned on thoughts of David Nolan, there wasn't much of any. He was good-looking. Big whoop. And she wasn't afraid to voice her opinion once she and Mary Margaret sat down at a vacant lunch table, along with another girl, Ruby, who Mary Margaret had known all of her life.
"What's with all the commotion about this David kid?" Emma asked, curious but nonchalant at the same time.
"He's really cute and really athletic," Mary Margaret replied dreamily, staring somewhat discreetly at the table where Regina was perched atop, David feeding her grapes from his probably mommy packed lunch.
"And completely clueless!" Ruby interjected, bringing everyone back down from the Seventh Heaven of David Nolan.
"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret prompted, surprisingly sweet and genuinely caring about Ruby's point of view. Emma was almost impressed. After all, she'd witnessed hundreds of catfights that started out as tense situations over hot quarterbacks.
"He's totally unaware of the manipulative shrew he's dating, behind all the designer purses and cheerleading uniform!" Ruby elaborated.
"She's just a spoiled little brat who's so bored that her only entertainment is making other people's lives miserable," Emma groaned, flicking her gray-green eyes over to David eating a PB&J with the crusts cut off, and Regina scanning the crowd of teenagers, trying to see if she could turn anyone to stone. The other two girls' eyes followed and hey nodded their heads in agreement.
"It doesn't help that she's out to get me either." The group turned their attention back to the hopelessly in love Mary Margaret. "For something I did in the seventh grade! The seventh grade!" she complained, exasperated. "All because I kissed stupid Daniel playing spin the bottle in the stupid seventh grade," she murmured and muttered other things under her breath, but soon became her cheery self once again.
"So, Ruby," Mary Margaret began perkily, as if her total angry rant had never even happened, "has anyone asked you to the Valentine's Day Dance yet?"
"No," replied Ruby, dejected, fingering her long, red curls. "Who would want to ask the lunch lady's granddaughter? Need I remind you I'm related to the person slapping dismembered bodies on people's plates every day?"
"Why don't you just ask someone yourself?" Emma shrugged; inadvertently trying to remind them both that she was still sitting there.
The two burst out into abrupt, uncontrollable laughter, earning them a few confused stares and one perfectly evil glare from Regina Mills, now resting daintily on her boyfriend's lap.
"Us?" they both asked in unison, as if the idea of some form of feminism was absolutely hilarious.
"In case you haven't noticed, we aren't exactly on the popular page!" Ruby snorted.
"I don't see the problem in asking someone," Emma argued defensively. "Anyway, what would you guys have to lose? Like you said, it isn't as if you can get any lower of the social food-chain."
"Gee, thanks Emma..." Ruby said sarcastically.
"You guys are missing the point," Emma continued stubbornly. "All I'm trying to say is that it's worth the risk. It's your senior year, after all. Have a little fun!"
Emma secretly envied the two for being completely normal seventeen year-olds. She didn't get the luxury of 'having a little fun'; she'd experienced the repercussions brutally enough to never try 'fun' again.
"I know Ruby would," May Margaret teased. "She's got her sights set on one boy, and one boy only."
Ruby turned bright pink.
"Vic Whale," Mary Margaret cooed dramatically. "He's just so... hot, you know, underneath his goggles and lab coat."
"Shut up!" Ruby reddened to the exact hue of her name. "And hey," she added, "at least Vic Whale is attainable. No offense Double M - " Emma could only assume she meant Mary Margaret - "but the idea of anyone prying David Nolan - excuse me, The David Nolan - out from the Evil Queen's grasp is just too good to be true."
Mary Margaret somberly murmured agreement. Girls like her didn't get Prince Charming; girls like Regina did. It was the natural order of things. The only time she ever spent with David without that harpy on his arm was every Saturday morning - starting at 7:15 am sharp; they volunteered at the pet shelter together. Well, not together, together, but they were conveniently at the same place at the same time doing something positive for the world. Regina didn't do work, and especially didn't get her hands dirty, so she was forced in that interval of time not to be inspecting her boyfriend's every move. Rather, she threw darts at a picture of Mary Margaret and celebrated with a mani-pedi, which was nearly as satisfying.
Emma just sat there in a haze, fingering the hem of her red leather jacket. She didn't really partake in boy talk - even before she'd totally given up on men. There had only been one guy, and falling in love with him came so fast that there wasn't time for sleepover confessions before she took the plunge. And what a mistake that had been.
"You could totally ask Victor, Ruby," Mary Margaret encouraged, Emma grateful that her flashbacks were interrupted.
"What makes you think he's going to say yes?" Ruby inquired skeptically.
"What makes you think he's going to say no?" Mary Margaret shot back. "Do really think Whale's ever been on a date? He'll want to say yes before you have a chance to change your mind! And like you said, he's attainable." She said her last sentence disdainfully, sneaking a longing glace at David.
"It's too bad," Ruby said wiggling her finger, directing her attention to the newest member of Storybrooke's community. "Emma doesn't have a guy to obsess over yet. How can we tease her?"
Mary Margaret giggled, and Emma forced a weak smile. I did obsess once, she thought, you just weren't there to see it.
"It won't be long before she's fallen head over heels for someone," Mary Margaret breathed airily, still somewhat lost in David Land. "But at least give us some leverage," she continued, straightening and snapping out of her funk. "There's got to be one embarrassing story you can tell us about a boy."
"There's never been anyone," Emma lied through her teeth. These girls are reaching out, Emma, they're trying to become your friend, her conscience scolded her. Why lie? The past is the past.
Because you can't risk getting hurt, by anyone, ever again, The devil inside spoke up.
Ruby and Mary Margaret, thankfully or unthankfully, bought into the façade without question. "So when you screw yourself over in the love department, we'll be the first to witness the carnage," Ruby laughed.
They already were. They got caught in the aftermath. And it wasn't going to be pretty.
Luckily, the conversation was dropped when a boy - more like a young man - in motorcycle jacket and combat boots strode into the parking lot, his hair askew and hanging wispily across his forehead. He held a toothpick in between his teeth, gnawing on it as if he were a menacing bloodhound chewing on a bone.
"Speaking of princes," Ruby groaned, referring to the boy who was making his way forcefully through the lunch benches.
"That's Killian Jones," Mary Margaret whispered fearfully. "They say he killed his step-father."
"Ha!" Emma scoffed.
"She isn't kidding," Ruby warned. "Sure, he's hot, but he's also a lot of trouble. You can even see Regina quiver."
"What's the difference between him and her then?" Emma asked.
"Regina feeds off of the misery and forced adoration of others. We've all seen her wrath inflicted without mercy, time and time again. Killian Jones, well, no dares to bother him because none of us want to find his breaking point. And if the rumors are true, then that vengeance could be lethal." Mary Margaret whispered with a sense of urgency.
"I don't buy it for a second," Emma huffed. "I've seen dozens of Killian Jones'. They're deadbeats who have found some way to contort their image to cause people to fear them. He probably never laid a hand on his step-daddy."
"You sound so sure of yourself," Ruby observed. "How many schools have you been at?" she quizzed.
"Enough to know," Emma snapped, flashing back to Tallahassee for a split second, shivering as she recalled her home in Florida just a few short months ago.
Emptying those memories from her mind, she got up and went to go through her sandwich wrap away. She walked confidently past the Popular Table, toward the waste basket underneath the canopy, and tried to ignore the infamous Killian Jones leaning against the chain-link fence, a cigarette now hanging loosely out of his mouth. The embers clustered on the butt smoldered and smoked, much like the effect his forget-me not eyes - both literally and color-wise - had on the back of Emma's head as she turned away, taking her time throwing her trash away. It might just as well have been a cigarette singeing her long blonde hair.
"You're the new girl." He stated, chuckling lightly in his gravelly voice.
"Otherwise known as Fresh Meat?" Emma joked rudely. Killian seemed unfazed.
"The hot mysterious blond I just can't wait to sink my teeth into," he shot back, playing along.
Emma rolled her eyes and started back for Ruby and Mary Margaret, when Killian stretched his hand out lazily. "Killian Jones."
"Emma. Emma Swan," she said over her shoulder, refusing to shake his hand.