“Good morning,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”
You nod, returning the smile. “Yeah.” Picking up the coffee he’d slid over, you take a sip and try to hide the grimace that spreads over your face. He’d forgotten to put any sugar in it. Ew. You valiantly take another mouthful anyway, trying to hide how bad the taste is.
It’s a wasted effort, though; he just gives you an amused grin. “You don’t have to drink it,” he observes. “I guess I made it wrong?”
You put the cup down with an embarrassed smile and nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “You didn’t put any sugar in it. Sorry.”
He shakes his head, his smile fading a little. “You don’t have to be sorry. Pass it here, I’ll make you another one.” He doesn’t even let you pass it to him, though— he just reaches over and takes it. Rude, but you’ll let it slide.
The coffee machine is merrily boiling away again a few moments later, and Dad is chatting animatedly away in the kitchen. He’s talking about something at work, you’re not really sure what— something about the mayor approving funds for the hiring of machinery, or something. You just nod along, making vague “uh-huh” and “okay” sounds at what you think are appropriate intervals.
Then— oh. You wait for there to be a pause in the conversation, then, “I’m going to be home late today.” He looks up at your interruption, but he doesn’t look as confused as you expect him to.
“I heard the voicemail,” he says. He doesn’t sound judgemental that you didn’t tell him about your job, which you are glad about, but you’re a little annoyed that he doesn’t even sound surprised. “Do you need me to take you there?”
You shake your head. “I’m going shopping with Madison,” you reveal. You feel a little vindicated when his eyebrows do lift in surprise this time, but he schools his expression back down to calm neutrality very quickly.
“What are you going out for?” he asks.
Shrugging, you look off to the side, trying to fight down a blush before it can form. You’re moderately successful. “Just some clothes shopping for Madison,” you say. “She wants me to go with her so she has someone to give her a second opinion on what she plans on buying.”
He raises his eyebrows at that, giving you a quick once-over. You’re not sure what he’s implying, but you feel indignation rising in your gut anyway. He must see that, because he quickly gives you a charming smile and hurries over with a fresh cup of coffee. You make sure to scowl at him anyway as you take a sip of the coffee, just so he doesn’t think he got away with it. At least he remembered the sugar.
“Alright, well,” he says once you’ve visibly calmed down a little. “Will you need any money? I don’t have very much, but I have a little bit set aside in case you wanted to go out with friends.”
For a moment, you consider it. Madison would probably pay for her lingerie herself, but it would be pretty mean of you to make her pay for everything when the two of you went out. “Maybe just a little?” you ask hesitantly. “I won’t have much time for dinner between this and work, so we might just get some while we’re out.”
He shakes his head, but pulls his wallet out from his pocket anyway. “Don’t worry about dinner,” he replies, handing you a twenty. “Get you and Madison something small while you’re out. What time do you think the two of you will finish?”
You shrug. “Fiiiiive-ish?” you hazard. “Or maybe five thirty? We have to head there after school, but that shouldn’t take too long. Yeah, five thirty.” That should give you just long enough to take a bus home, shower, and head off to work.
Dad nods. “I’ll pick you up after work, then,” he declares. “I should finish a little after five today, so I’ll pick you up around then. We’ll get some dinner on the way. How does that sound?”
“Do we have the money for that?” you ask, a little startled. You didn’t think you would— you’ve been running short, and even though you’ve been dropping small bits of change in the change jar, you don’t think it’s been helping very much.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gives you a cheesy grin and a thumbs-up with both his hands. “It won’t be much, but we can pick up a burger or something.”
“Okay!” If he says he has enough money, you’ll trust him on that. He’s the one who handles the finances, after all. “Thanks, Dad,” you make sure to say to him.
He walks over to your side and pulls you into a one-armed hug, squishing your head against his chest. “Don’t thank me,” he says. “It’s not a hassle.”
The two of you end up idly chatting for a while. As it winds closer to the time you leave, you head into your room and get your bag, then head back out and snag your phone— you’re pretty sure Dad sees it, but he doesn’t say anything— and what you think is a granola bar from the cupboard. It’s not the greatest breakfast you’ve ever had, but it’s something.
Eventually, it’s time for you to leave. You give Dad a quick hug before you run out the door, swinging your bag over your shoulders as you go.
Miracle of miracles, the bus is still on schedule. You’re not sure exactly what has led them to getting to school on time, but you’re not going to complain— not if it means you can see Madison before the bell rings. You do spend the time the bus spends winding around the city streets replying to your good morning texts from your girls. Even Amy has sent you one today, although hers is appended by a note asking about your headache— you make sure to assure her that it’s gone, and to thank her for the painkillers again. You sent her several texts last week doing so, even though you’re pretty sure they didn’t help at all.
Today, you interrupt her as she’s stealthily sliding your locker door open— the broken lock makes a squeaking sound as it swings open, masking your footsteps. Remembering what happened the last time you surprised her, you wait until she’s put your lunch in your locker before you step forwards and slip your arms around her and pull her into a hug.
“Hello, Maddie,” you purr into her ear. She squeaks, her cheeks reddening a little.
“H-hello, Taylor,” she stammers. She doesn’t even look at you, which sends a little thrill through you. She knows your voice well enough that she doesn’t even have to verify that it’s you. “Um, sorry I didn’t reply to your text yet. I was going to, but-“
You hug her tighter for a brief moment, then step away, allowing her to turn around. She reaches for your hand, and you let her take it. “It’s fine,” you say soothingly. “It’s only been ten minutes anyway. Come on, let’s go to class.”
The bell hasn’t quite rung when the two of you arrive at the classroom. Only one other person is here— that girl who’d been sitting next to Madison a while ago, Charlotte. You ignore her presence, turning back to Madison.
For the few minutes before class, the two of you sit around, going over her notes from Friday. She’s doing better in class these days— much better, she tells you with a proud and thankful little grin— but she still has a ways to go before she’s doing as well as she’d like to.
Then the bell rings, and the two of you file into the classroom. You lead her to your seats, then release her hand, choosing to slip your arm around her waist instead.
It’s not a very exciting class, and the noise level is high enough that you don’t think anyone is going to be able to overhear you, so when the teacher finally assigns you to a task— a full fifteen minutes after the bell rang— you gently pull on Madison’s sleeve until she looks over at you.
“We’re not going to tutoring today,” you murmur to her. “We’ll go shopping for those new clothes for you instead. Can you call your dad and let him know, or would you like to borrow my phone?”
“I can call him and let him know,” she says with a little grin. “I left my purse at home, but I can get him to bring it over after school is over. He’ll drive us there if you want.”
You consider it for a moment. “Yeah, that’d be good,” you murmur. “We’ll get something to drink afterwards. I have to be at work by six thirty, but we’ve got some time.”
She twitches towards you briefly, but restrains herself. Her hand, resting on your leg, does rub it a little— a little gesture of appreciation— and she flashes you a warm smile. “I’d like that.”
You rub her hip gently, then nudge her back towards her schoolwork. She pouts slightly, but turns back to it without much reluctance.
It’s harder to keep yourself interested come second period, when you don’t have Madison beside you. Luckily, you do have the books on business you borrowed from the library, so you’re not left completely and utterly bored, but… honestly, you’re growing a little spoiled. You have Madison in first class, and Sophia with you in Chemistry. Why can’t you have someone with you all the time?
Without turning your head, you know that Sophia and Emma are both in your class now. Maybe you could get Sophia to sit next to you— but then you’d be leaving Emma alone.
And you’re not sure it’s a good idea to leave Emma alone right now.
You’ll just have to keep finding new textbooks to keep you interested during class, then. Texting helps, too, but it’s hard to do that without the teachers noticing.
Still, reading through your textbooks keeps you occupied, at least until lunch. There, you send Madison a quick apology text— “Going to be a bit late to lunch today, sorry”— and head off around school.
Sophia had recommended that you talk to the newer kids, and while you’re not sure if she would actually have the best idea of the situation at school, she certainly has a much better idea of what the “factions” in the school are like than you do. You had briefly considered asking Madison, but even if she’d know, she’d want to know why you asked, and you’d feel bad if you had to lie to her. Emma might know, but, well. That mess.
The problem you quickly encounter is that there isn’t precisely one unified group of students you could call the “new kids”. As you walk around the school, you quickly find that you can’t even tell many of the groups of students apart by age. Which does make sense, you suppose— a lot of these people would probably know each other outside of school.
It’s annoying, though.
After a good five minutes, you despair of finding a group that’s even remotely approachable. A couple of times, you almost think that you could approach one of the smaller groups of men sitting around and laughing to each other over their lunches, but no matter what some people might think, you’re not actually naïve enough to believe that you can walk up to just anyone and get information about the gangs from them. You wouldn’t get anything if you approached it like that.
No, you’re looking for something a bit less suspicious; someone you can set your hooks into, and might be able to provide you with the information you’re looking for.
And— eight minutes past the lunch bell, by your watch— you stumble across gold.
It’s a small group, only six people by your count. Five of them are gathered on the chairs of one of the outdoor tables in the quad, and sitting cross-legged on top of the table is a girl making— okay, those are very crude gestures. You grimace and attempt to forget you ever saw them.
Your attention is drawn immediately to her. And not just because of her fiendishly good looks, although you’re not ashamed to admit that she is hot. You’re a sucker for girls with dark skin— well, you’re a sucker for girls with any colour skin, but you really like seeing the contrast of your pale skin against girls like this one and Sophia. She’s pretty, too. Not the same kind of pretty as Emma, or even Madison, but she's still very pretty.
You’re not even drawn to her because of how trashy she looks. It’s like she’s deliberately gone out of her way to make herself look as trashy as she can. Her jeans are somehow both tight and torn, in what you’re pretty sure is a deliberate fashion statement. She’s wearing a full-length shirt, but has it tied up beneath her breasts, emphasizing them and enhancing the already potent effect of how low-cut her shirt is. Even her hair hasn’t been left untouched; she’s bleached a long stripe of it, a large strip of which is coloured purple. You don’t like being judgemental, but she really does look trashy.
No, your attention isn’t drawn to her because of how she looks. Your attention is drawn to her because she’s broadcasting her emotions loudly enough that your power reaches out to her as you walk past, almost without your consent.
She’s not the only girl in school like this— you usually have to keep your power lightly restrained as you walk through the school, because there’s about a dozen girls you pass by most days who broadcast their emotions stronger than most people do, most notably Madison. Probably more that you just never walk past.
This is the first girl you’ve met, however, who you think might actually know something about the gangs at school— if only because two of the boys trying to stare up her shirt are bearing what you recognize as ABB tattoos— and who feels particularly susceptible to your power.
It’s the perfect combination.
Glancing at your watch, only nine minutes has passed of your forty-minute lunch period. Good.
You turn and head towards a nearby unoccupied table, where you set your bag on the table and rummage through it for your phone. As you do, you reach out with your power, searching adroitly for the girl’s emotions.
Her emotions aren’t tangled so much as they run deep, mixing and blending in to each other. Resting on the surface, most easily accessible, is some kind of happiness. That disappears quickly as you delve deeper in, though— surface happiness often does that. The happiness doesn’t disappear entirely as you go down, not quite, but it’s tinged by an oily grimness that grows stronger as you move down. You’ve felt that before, but not often. Mostly in Sophia, although hers is less oily and more just… there, omnipresent through her. To a lesser extent in Emma, too.
