Chapter Text
“Powder I swear to god if you don’t get your ass down here in 2 minutes—I’m going to confiscate those damn headphones.”
Violet Lanes was in a sour mood. She woke up 20 minutes after her alarm—10 minutes later than usual, and it had messed up her whole schedule. She was waiting for her younger sister, Powder, to finish the girl’s extensive morning routine. After checking the clock on their microwave, she cursed at its ever-changing state.
Powder could not care less about getting to school on time, finding the whole curriculum a waste of her time—excluding the science department. Yet, she heard the threat of her headphone’s potential confiscation—her body went into hyper-speed.
“I’m coming! No need to be so bitchy.” Powder cried from upstairs, yelping in pain as she bumped her head on her bathroom cabinet.
She cursed under her breath as she paused her music, her statement coming out more squeaky than intended. Running downstairs, she grabbed a piece of toast Vi had so graciously laid out for her on the kitchen counter. She stuck it into her mouth, theatrically bowed at Vi, and skipped over to put on her shoes.
Vi rolled her eyes at her sister’s unimpressive performance as a slight smile appeared on her face.
“C’mon. Mylo and Claggor are waiting outside.”
The two sisters made their way out the doorway of their quaint house, with Vi making sure the door was locked before they left. She waved at Mylo and Claggor, who began to make their way towards the bus stop. Mylo rolled his eyes at the sight of Powder, a frown appearing on his lips.
“Of course, it’s up to Powder to make us late. Again.”
Powder scrunched her face at him as she defiantly stuck out her tongue. Although she was 15, she tended to cling to a couple of child-like expressions.
“Shut up, Mylo.” Vi said while shooting him a glare, “Being pissy in the mornings is not a good look on you.” Mylo opened his mouth to protest, but Vi cut him off before he could speak. “—And don’t act like you don’t take 5 million years in the morning to do—what exactly? Half-Ass brush your teeth? ‘Cause I can still smell your stink from over here.”
Claggor chuckled at her jab as Mylo shot them both a scowl.
“Whatever.” He muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
On the bus, Vi glanced out the window of her neighborhood. It wasn’t the prettiest place, as most houses had an abundance of graffiti on their garages or walls, but it was home. Although it was slightly embarrassing that she, as a senior, was still riding the bus to school, she had no choice. Vander could barely afford his run-down truck, let alone a car for her.
“…And then he was like—‘I’ve worked so hard for this award and blah blah blah, and I thank my mother and whatever,’ even though we know—”
Powder looked up at her sister’s face with a frown. “Are you even listening?… Earth to Bimbo?…” She tapped her freshly painted nails on top of her sister’s scalp.
“Huh?” Vi turned her head to face the menace and was met with blue eyes squinted in annoyance.
“I was talking about the science geek that’s in your year. He had a dumb speech at this festival, and it’s infested my YouTube feed all week.”
Vi stared at Powder blankly, not grasping who this ‘Science Geek’ was—but nodding anyway.
“Whatever.” Powder muttered in exasperation, mirroring Mylo’s tone earlier that morning. Her body slouched into the bus seat as she began to pout.
Vi sighed in response, ruffling her little sister’s shoulder-length hair.
“Sorry, Kiddo.” She muttered with a faint grin. “I’m out of it this morning. How about you tell me more about it over lunch?”
Powder’s eyes immediately lit up with newfound excitement as she shot back up in her seat.
“Alright. But only if you promise to not space out this time.” She warned, her pinky finger held out expectantly.
“Deal,” Vi replied, clasping Powder’s pinky firmly.
Violet walked through the clean floor of her school building, squinting at the pristine lockers shining in the bright daylight. Although her school did have some kids from the less fortunate parts of the city, it mainly consisted of middle to high-class areas, which led to better funding and an influx of stuck-up students.
Her 1st period was PE—which she probably should’ve taken in her 1st year of high school. She put it off ‘till she couldn’t anymore because she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be sweaty all day. Most of the kids in her class were either in 9th or 10th grade—as well as the occasional junior, except for one.
Caitlyn Kiramman.
Caitlyn Kiramman was the princess of the school, with perfect hair and perfect grades and all that crap that the average peasant like Vi never had time to worry about. Because of those facts—and a couple of other gripes, Vi wasn’t too fond of Little Miss Perfect. Fortunately for her, the spoiled brat didn’t seem keen on talking to people anyway, especially not kids like Vi. She assumed that Princess Piltie thought she was too good for other people.
And even if that wasn’t the real reason, why should she care?
Caitlyn hated her PE class. It was right in the morning—which ruined her entire day because she barely had any energy to begin with. She didn’t even have any friends in her class, although that was generally the case. Her counselor had messed up her schedule for the past 3 years and managed to avoid the topic of her physical education credit entirely. Now she was stuck in this idiotic position with even more idiotic people.
Usually, she would just go through the warm ups and play whatever stupid sport tactics they were going over that day, but today didn’t have much of a lesson. The weather outside was perfect, so her teacher had dragged their class to the fields at the back of the school to do any kind of physical activity. Some students chose to play soccer—some chose to play basketball. Caitlyn Kiramman, on the other hand, decided to sit at the foot of the tree and people watch. It was one of her favorite activities, just observing how others interact with their environment.
As she stared at a group of girls in the distance walking around their school track, a ball came barreling toward her face at approximately 30 miles per hour.
“Sorry!” A faraway voice shouted out, not a hint of empathy in their tone.
The soccer ball hit Caitlyn square in the nose, and in shock, she sat frozen and attempted to process what had just occurred. Blood began to stream down her face before she could process it, dripping upon her perfectly ironed white blouse and navy blue skirt.
Caitlyn glanced at the group of boys in the direction where the ball supposedly came from. She could hear their voices and ecstatic cheers, clearly celebrating their direct shot.
Sighing, she unsteadily got up from her previous position, cupping the blood from her nose with one hand while regaining her balance with the other. As the world grew too bright for her head to handle, a tall figure with swooped pink hair began to jog in her direction. The girl wore a red hooded jacket with a white tank top underneath—and a pair of black gym shorts that looked fairly used.
“You good?” The girl asked in a casual tone. Her shoulders rolled back, exuding an air of confidence from her stature. Slightly intimidated, Caitlyn looked up to see a hint of concern plastered on the girl’s face as she shielded her eyes from the sun.
Caitlyn slowly nodded and lost her grip on the tree. The action managed to get more red on her already blood-soaked sleeves.
As the other girl walked into the shade of the tree, her eyes widened as she took sight of the damage. “Damn, they fucked you up.” She muttered as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Are you gonna go to the nurse's office?” Her eyebrow raised, with her arms crossed over each other.
“I-“ Caitlyn paused. She knew that her nosebleed was relatively severe—her father had debriefed her on the signs a couple of years ago—but she also didn’t want to go to the nurse’s office. In her sophomore year, she excused herself to go to the nurse's office due to a migraine. She had expected to be there for a few minutes to escape the bright lights of her 4th-period history class. She had never expected the nurses to refuse to accept her request to turn the clinic lights off. They instead sent her off immediately after claiming that she was entitled to think that her ‘slight headache’ warranted a significant disruption to their day. Apparently, it wasn’t only her classmates who resented her for her status.
“It’s fine. I’ll head to the restroom.” She stated in confidence. From a young age—Caitlyn Kiramman had been instructed to speak with confidence. Speaking with apprehension demonstrated weakness and susceptibility to scrutiny.
The intimidating girl gave her a hesitant stare but didn’t argue further.
Caitlyn attempted to take a step forward but was sent tumbling towards the ground. Unbeknownst to her, getting hit square in the face with a ball also affects your balance capabilities. That was a miscalculation on her part.
“Woah there.” The girl said as she crouched down beside the defeated girl. “You need some help?” She asked, holding out a hand.
Usually, Caitlyn Kiramman did not pay much attention to the people around her. They generally only talked to her to climb up the social ladder of high society or were waiting for the opportunity to squeeze her money out of her.
But as this random girl—who seemed to be in the same year as her, crouched down and looked at her with the most beautiful huh? grey eyes she’d ever seen, she began to focus on the details. She noticed a faint scar on her lip, a tattoo of the Roman numeral ‘6’ on her left cheek, slight freckles dusting her face in the most perfect of places, and her lashes that were so thick and soft looking that she just wished she could reach out and touch—wait .What was she thinking? Did the girl in front of her say something?
“…Kiramman? You still in there?” The girl pursed her lips and put her hand under her chin.
“Ah—sorry, I was spacing out. What did you just say?—Wait. How do you know my name?” Caitlyn tilted her head—but quickly remembered her nose was still bleeding profusely and hurriedly adjusted her hand’s position.
The girl chuckled. “Who doesn’t know your name? You’re practically a celebrity—even I know that.” She pushed off her knees and dusted them off.
“So, are we gonna clean you up or not? You look a little pathetic just sitting here.” The girl said with a grin as she held out her hand for the second time.
Caitlyn, stunned by her newfound acquaintance’s brutal honesty, hesitated.
“I-…Alright.” She took the calloused hand hovering in front of her and pulled herself up, cautious not to spill the massacre in her other palm.
“Before we go, I have to ask, what is your name?” Caitlyn questioned, a curious look appearing on her bloodied face.
“Oh—right.” The girl chuckled, an awkward smile flashing on her face.
“It’s Vi.”