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(A Roswell Elementary Prequel)
By Emily
Oh man, just his luck he had to get stuck with that crazy girl from before school in his class. The small, laughing hyena one, with the daisies in her hair and the angry green eyes. There she was, sitting towards the back with those blonde curls taunting him and saying, "You can't have me, nyah." Not that he wanted to touch her stupid curls anyway. Not like his fingers were just itching to reach out and grab one when he walked down the aisle to ask their teacher where the heck the stupid bathroom was.
She wasn't paying attention to him anyway. She had her head down doing some stupid lamo work assignment. He hated school already 'cause they were already making him do work and he hated work. He'd rather be back in the orphanage all angry and wanting to burn something 'cause nobody wanted him than here. Even though *they* were here. The ones from before. Max. Isabel.
They were the ones he belonged with, not a little blonde girl who looked like that Tinkberbell fairy from when he'd watched the Disney Peter Pan video at the orphanage one night with all of the other annoying, smelly kids. So how come he couldn't stop glaring at her while he waited for the teacher lady to stop writing in her little gradebook thing and look up? How come it made him feel all swirly inside when her eyes slid from the cursive she was supposed to be copying from the board over to him every once in a while? Dammit. He was supposed to be watching *them*, not her. What was the matter with him? Maybe she had some weird Tinkerbell girl magic or something. That was what was making him feel all funny.
Finally the Donaldson teacher lady person looked up harshly from her little gradebook and rasped, "Yes, Michael?"
Amazing she knew his name already. This wasn't a good sign. Not good at all. He stared at her dumbly, his mouth stammering. "I need the bathroom," he finally said in a harsh voice.
"Hmm," Mrs. Donaldson considered, peering over the tops of her glasses at him.
What the heck was that supposed to mean? he wondered. Man, did he already mess up? Maybe he wasn't supposed to ask about going to the bathroom or something? It was only his first day. She could give him a break here, come on. It wasn't his fault he didn't know where the bathroom was, right?
"Hmm," Mrs. Donaldson said again, taking out her attendence book and flipping through it idly. She ran her fingers down one of the pages, the one with the listing of all the kids in the class he guessed, and then her fingers finally came to a rest on... "Maria DeLuca."
DeLuca DePukeah DeSpookah De-- oh. *Her* head popped up. That girl. That... Maria girl. "Huh?" she asked.
He smirked. She was such an airbrain. He could tell already. Complete and total fizz inside of that empty little head. Fizz to go with those soft frizzy curls. Fizz and frizz. Not that he knew her curls were soft.
Yet.
"Would you show Michael to the bathroom please?" Mrs. Donaldson requested.
"Uh huh." And she nodded, making those curls boing around everywhere like springs. Man, if it was him sitting behind her like that, he would've yanked them like there was no tomorrow. But the kid sitting behind her now, some stupid jock-in-the-making from the look of it, looked too scared to.
Yeah right. What was so scary about her? She was just some little itty bitty harmless cheesecurl girl. He could beat her up with both hands tied behind his back. And blindfolded.
She was walking towards him now. It was like dancing was the way she walked, with her feet bobbing up and down all over the place and those curls bouncing along behind her. He glared at her again, and she actually had the nerve to giggle at him.
That's it. He wasn't even going to look at her anymore after that. He just shuffled along behind her with his head down, following after her like some stupid sheep who'd get lost without her around to lead. She pranced out the door and turned left, walking down the long, wide hallway.
"You must be pretty dumb if you can't even find your way to the bathroom by yourself, y'know," she finally said. Her voice was all soft and low and comforting. Sweet and musical. "It's not like Roswell Elementary is just so big and huge that you could get lost or something like that."
He groaned. He should've known she couldn't keep those big full pouty lips of hers shut. "I didn't ask for some stupid tour guide," he informed her. "It was the teacher's cheeseheaded idea."
Then she said something he'd never expect in a billion years. She turned and looked at him, her eyes blazing angrily with a fire he'd never seen burn quite so hot in anybody else's eyes. "Yeah, well, you look like the kinda boy who needs a map just to find your fat butt."
"What do you know anyway? You're just a weird girl." He was gonna brush her off. It was the only thing to do. She shouldn't mess with him. Didn't she know that? He was mean, and tough from his years of being on his own with nobody else to count on except for himself, and he didn't let anybody into his heart without permission. Then how come this, this small human *girl* was already worming her way in?
"Well, you're just a creepy boy," she fired back, all bold and sassy.
He gaped at her for a minute, outraged that she just wouldn't let it go. "I hate you!" he exclaimed in a fit of passion.
She only tossed her curls in a self-congratulatory way. Like she knew that getting him to explode like that meant that she'd won in whatever weird little game they were playing. Damn her. "Ditto," she replied calmly, with none of her earlier anger.
Then the Boys Room materialized in front of them. Relieved, he shoved the door open. He had to get away from her. And fast.
He sniffled as he looked at himself in the mirror after he'd peed. He didn't like what he saw. He didn't like this at all. How dare this stupid girl come out of nowhere and get to him like that? He paced around the Boys Room angrily, letting off steam. He almost felt like kicking at something. Or burning something, like that time when he'd made his stupid new foster dad's toast burn in the toaster a couple nights ago after Hank had yelled at him. Sometimes he could burn stuff. Sometimes he could break stuff. When he was mad. And he was mad now. Furious.
I want to go home, he decided to himself, a lone tear running down his face before he could get strong enough to stop it. He slumped down by one of the walls, feeling more sad and alone than he ever had. I want to find home, he thought as he got up and wiped at his eyes. Stupid, weak tears.
He could never let them see him cry. Her either. Especially not her.
She shot him a kinda curious look as he came back out of the bathroom again. Say anything about it and die, he thought moodily. But she was strangely quiet. For a minute anyway. And then, of course she had to open her mouth again and ruin everything.
"You're lucky you're not sitting near me," she crowed self-importantly.
"Yeah, why's that?" he asked tiredly.
"Because then I could get you ever hour of every day."
Hmm... that could be kinda fun. Getting into a war with her. That might make school kinda bearable. Might make life kinda bearable, actually. Just as long as he won more than he lost.
"Next year maybe," he said absently, already planning how he'd attack her later at recess. Those little pebbles on the ground would be just perfect for tossing at her. Just perfect.
"Yeah." And she grinned at him. A bright smile like he'd never seen before. At least not directed at him. He usually got scowls. It felt... nice. Warm. Like the sun. Like a home with a blazing fire inside, waiting for him to come and curl up there and live comfortably for once in his life. "Then I can have a whole extra year to plan out my strategy."
"Next year, I'll be ready for you too." Or maybe just next period, he thought to himself, smirking. He shoved her as they reached the door to the classroom, kinda liking the way his hands felt on her. He didn't do it hard though. Not as hard as he could have. "Stupid cheesehead girl."
She gave him another one of her sweet sunny smiles, startling him. "Dumb ugly dorkbutt boy." And she shoved him back, her hands all light and gentle as he bounced back slightly.
His eyes slid down to her curls. He just had to find out what they felt like. He couldn't resist anymore. His hands snatched at one roughly, awe filling him at how soft they were. He took a peek at her face and she was just standing there, letting him. All of her fight gone. At least for now. He smirked down at her. He quickly got a hold of himself and gave one hard yank. He turned away before she could see the doofy look on his face at getting away with that and walked back into the classroom. His hand still tingled from where he'd touched her.
Defeat was just around the corner. He could feel it. Not even a single day and already he was completely whipped.
Disgusting.
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