Chapter Text
The first thing Lenore Vandernacht sees upon entering the theater of Nevermore High School is her best friend since fifth grade, Duke Fortunando violently waving at her from the back row. Lenore gives him a little salute before heading to join him. Plopping down in the seat next to him, she props her hands up on her cane, leaning forward. “Duke.”
“Lenore.”
“Do you think Monty’s quit?”
“God, I fucking hope so.”
Montresor has not quit. As if on cue, he walks in, eliciting a loud groan from Lenore and a sigh from Duke. The blond tailed by his girlfriend, Ada, the only reason he joined (Eulalie had overheard her nagging him many times last year), and his best friend (if you could even call them friends), William Wilson, directs a glare in the two's direction.
“I’m gonna shoot myself if we have to deal with him all year,” Lenore mutters under her breath.
“Bring extra ammo for me, mon amie,” Duke whispers in response, and Lenore stifles a laugh. A few moments later, she hears a ping from her phone, pulling it out.
the only good ginger: wheres the theater again? I got lost, sorry :(
Lenore quickly types out a reply, and Morella walks through the doors of the theater in a matter of minutes, joining Duke and Lenore in the back. Sitting down next to Lenore, the ginger wrings her hands, “sorry I got lost! I’m still not used to how big this school is!”
“It’s alright!” Lenore is quick to respond, a twinge of pity for the girl in her gut at the apology. Although she's a sophomore, Morella’s been homeschooled up until this year, no one could really fault her for getting lost.
It’s a few more minutes before Berenice and Eulalie join the group, forming the last of their little gang. “I’m going to do tech this year, I think,” Eulalie says as she sits down, playing a with a strand of her purple, recently redyed hair.
“Oh?” Lenore asks, sitting forward, “why’s that?”
“I’ve realized I’m not a good actor!” Eulalie responds, cheerily as ever, “also I want to paint the sets.”
Berenice nods, “I’m also going to try and see if Miss. Poppet will let me do costumes as well as act.”
On that note, the group lapses into not-so-quiet conversation, talking about classes and homework, and what the winter play this year could possibly be as other students file into the room. It’s not until a short boy with hair over one eye enters the room that Eulalie perks up, “Pluto!! Pluto, come sit with us!”
The boy- Pluto (Lenore thinks she's seen him around the school before, but never in theater)- stops in his tracks turning to face the group (most of whom are looking at Eulalie quizzically), “um. Me?”
“There’s no one else named Pluto here! Probably.”
And so Pluto, a bit nervously, if you were to ask
Lenore, wanders to the back row, leaving a few seats between him and Eulalie, who’s on the edge of the group. “He’s in my compsci,” Eulalie explains to the group, “he’s always alone. It makes me sad.”
She says this not at all quietly, and the boy sinks into his seat, and Lenore immediately feels her stomach drop, and based on the rest of the group's expressions, theirs are too. Berenice whispers something to Eulalie, whose lips form a little O shape. “Oh! Sorry, Pluto!” Berenice drops her head into her hands in frustration.
“I-it’s ok!” Pluto says, just loudly enough to be heard. He’s blushing, Lenore realizes. Duke seems to as well, as he turns to face Lenore, gesturing vaguely in Pluto and Eulalie’s direction, like, are you seeing this? Lenore nods.
Duke takes this as a sign to cut in before the conversation can be wrecked any further, “Has anyone seen Prospero?”
Come to think of it, Lenore has not. Which is odd. Prospero is always on time. Before she can voice this, Morella shyly raises a hand, “who’s that?”
“Student director from last year, babe,” Berenice replies, “posh. Kind of stuck up, if you ask me.”
“Well, he’s also the only one here responsible to direct,” Lenore counters, “so he better not have quit.”
Duke nods, “Lenore’s right. Malheureusement. He better get here soon.”
With that, the group goes back to conversing, Eulalie directing a few questions towards Pluto, who answers them very awkwardly. Five minutes pass, and then Prospero enters the room. He’s not alone.
Prospero is trailed by a short, blond girl, her hair in golden ringlets and posture perfect. And Lenore can’t take her eyes off of her. She can’t remember seeing this girl in the halls or cafeteria or wherever else she would’ve ever the last two weeks. And Lenore is absolutely sure she’d remember someone that pretty, because who wouldn’t. The blond girl is dressed much nicer than most of the theater kids, sporting a blouse, blue coat, frilly skirt, and blue high-heels.
Lenore is snapped out of her reverie by a very loud “finally!” from Duke, “Prospero, where were you?” He calls down to the brunette.
“ Please don't yell in the theater. I was telling Annabel Lee, here, about clubs. The deans asked me to.” Prospero says cooly, probably adding that last bit to avoid any counter from Duke.
But shit, the girl’s name is pretty, too.
“And thank you for that, darling.” Annabel Lee says, nodding towards Prospero, before heading over to sit next to Ada, who is waving frantically at her.
Fuck. Even her voice is pretty. It’s British and posh and holy fucking shit.
📽️₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧🎭
Annabel Lee is being stared at. She can feel it, even as Ada, from her third period, rambles incessantly in her ear.
And so, Annabel nods, gives Ada a polite little, “one moment, dear,” and turns to face Prospero, sitting on her other side. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabel hazards a gaze up to the back row.
Her admirer is a girl with black-and-white hair, blue eyes, each with a mole under them, and very pretty lips. Annabel tries to ignore that thought, turning back to face Ada, who’s now telling her something about how stupid it is that they don’t even do anything on the first day of club, and Annabel nods politely.
It’s only a few minutes later that the theater teacher, Miss.Poppet, as Annabel soon learns, enters onto the stage, goes over standard rules, and the bell rings. And even as she leaves the room, Annabel Lee is still thinking about that girl’s lips, even just in the back of her mind.