Please Note: The Roswell Elementary stories are not to be archived anywhere, under any circumstances. Only linking to the stories is permitted.
(a RE prequel)
By Emily
That weird boy with the icky hair was standing up by Mrs. Donaldson's desk, scowling at everybody. Maria DeLuca's head kept popping up from the cursive paper they were supposed to be doing so she could keep her eye on him. She wouldn't put it past him to do something slimy and boylike when she least expected it.
The boy's name was Michael Something-or-Other-That-She-Didn't-Bother-to-Remember, and it was his first day ever at Roswell Elementary. So Mrs. Donaldson made him get up and mumble a few words to the class. Yeah, that's exactly what he did. He mumbled and he kept his spiky head ducked way down like he didn't even want to look anybody in the eye. She couldn't even understand him hardly at all when he talked. Not that she wanted to. Although he might've had something interesting to say. You never know. Stranger things had happened before.
She was all depressed and distressed because Lizzie wasn't in her class this year. How could the teachers do this to her? Separate her from her bestest friend and she would surely die a slow agonizing death in captivity. Didn't they know that? She growled to herself in disgust as she picked up her boring yellow pencil and began to copy from the board again. Someday she'd have a whole collection of cool pencils with crazy animal print designs printed on them and stuff. Or sparkly ones, like those wicked cool ones at the drugstore. But Mom always bought her the yellow ones, because they were cheaper. She sighed. Picking a few cents of extra money over style was just a sad, sad thing.
"Maria DeLuca," Mrs. Donaldson chose that moment to say.
Her head popped up again. "Huh?"
Innocent look. Give Mrs. Donaldson an innocent look and hope for the best. The last thing she needed was to start her very first day of fourth grade hanging out with Principal Anderson. She wasn't even doing anything wrong this time. Unless Mrs. Donaldson could read her mind with magic psychic powers like all those fat weirdly-dressed ladies with gobs of makeup on their faces that were in the ads during late-night tv. Late-night tv sucked, especially when you were all alone in the house the entire night and huddled in your afghan just waiting for your mom to come home from a date to make sure she was okay and she wasn't gonna leave like some people Maria could name.
"Would you show Michael here to the bathroom, please?" Mrs. Donaldson asked.
"Uh huh." She nodded with relief, her blonde curls bouncing all over the place. Tommy Hilligan was sitting behind her this year. And if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't pull her hair. She never ever let anybody get away with touching her hair. But he didn't. Good.
She got up and pranced down the aisle. Her feet just always had this crazy urge to dance with an inner grace whenever she moved, and she couldn't control it. She stared at the boy waiting for her at the end of the aisle. He was glaring hostilely at her with his arms crossed. Was she supposed to be scared or something? She giggled. Hurricane DeLuca always called a bluff when she saw one.
"You must be pretty dumb if you can't even find your way to the bathroom by yourself, y'know," she began as they walked out of the classroom together. Well, okay, if you wanted to be more exact, he shuffled, and she bounced. "It's not like Roswell Elementary is just so big and huge that you could get lost or something like that."
"I didn't ask for some stupid tour guide. It was the teacher's cheeseheaded idea." His voice was low and kinda gravelly-sounding. It gave her weird shivers to hear it so clearly, without all that mumble-jumble from before.
"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."
"Well, you're just a creepy boy."
"I hate you!" he exclaimed, glaring at her.
"Ditto," she replied calmly, with a toss of her curls to show her complete lack of caring for this spiky-haired rebel boy who needed a personality transplant on top of his probably already scheduled hair transplant.
They reached the Boy's Room then. He violently shoved the door open and stalked inside. "I hope you drown in the toilet bowl!" she joyously called in after him before the door slammed right in her face.
Hmmph. What kind of rude icky boy was he anyway? She was now officially sorry she had ever tried to be nice to him this morning. Except this morning he'd looked lost and scared and all alone in the world. Like he needed somebody to come along and give him a little bit of golden sunshine. Heck, he needed a whole year's worth of golden sunshine before he'd be even remotely worthy of her time and company. She'd work on him this year maybe. Wear him down a little. He could be her next project or something.
Then he was barging out of the door again. His eyes looked a little funny. They were a little watery and red and puffy. But maybe he just had allergies. Yeah. Probably that was it.
"You're lucky you're not sitting near me," she piped up as they walked back to the classroom together.
"Yeah, why's that?" he asked.
"Because then I could get you every hour of every day."
"Next year maybe."
"Yeah." She smiled at the thought. "Then I can have a whole extra year to plan out my strategy." Brilliant.
"Next year, I'll be ready for you too," he decided, giving her a shove and glaring at her. "Stupid cheeseheaded girl."
"Dumb ugly dorkbutt boy." She smiled sweetly at him and shoved him back.
His big rough hand found its way into her curls and he stopped walking to stare into her eyes. His eyes were dark angry thunderheaded clouds that made her feel all dizzy and weak inside. She forgot about the nobody-touching-her-hair rule in an instant as he smirked at her. And his stormy eyes cleared for just a tiny little blink-and-you-miss-it second. He gave the curl he was still holding a gleeful yank and turned on his heel, slinking into the classroom without a backwards glance. She grinned and followed after him. She could still just barely feel where his hand had been.
Yeah, she liked Michael right from the start.
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