Fanfic

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara found Kitty on the way to her next class, and literally picked up the Freshman girl and shook her vigorously. 

  “What the living heck?” said Kitty. “What’d you do that for?" 

  "I just wanted to see if there were any brains rattling around in there, or if you’d completely lost them all." 

  "Like, *huh*?" 

  "Did you have the Froshtie tradition at your old school?" 

  "No…?” Kitty blinked at the string of non-sequiteurs. 

  “And Lance originally went to your school, yes?" 

  ”…yeah?“ 

  "So what could possibly make you think he’s been indoctrinated into Bayville traditions?" 

  ”…uh…“ said Kitty. 

  Sara patted her on the head. "You can’t look a foo’ if think things through…" 

  Kitty was left staring in the direction she’d gone. "But I like, thought I *had*…" 

+

  They officially had study hall. What they usually *un*officially did was hang out at the bleachers and huck random objects at the jocks when nobody was looking. 

  Only this time, Lance was disinterested to the point of near coma. 

  "Heh. Got another one,” crowed Todd[1]. 

  “Blam! Right in the kisser!” Tabby laughed. 

  “…eh…” said Lance. “What’s the point?" 

  "Kitty dissed yo’ again?" 

  "Pretty much permanently,” said Lance. “Made it clear she didn’t care if I lived or died." 

  "So shock, her, yo. Keep on livin’." 

  "Yeah? And what, exactly, is there to live for?" 

  "Dinner?” said Fred. 

  “Fashion,” said Pietro. 

  “Meaningless fucks?” suggested Tabby. 

  “Shuddup,” said Todd. “Look, if Kitty’s all you got to live fo’, yo, then maybe you aughta think about gettin’ another hobby." 

  "Name one that won’t cost me a fuckin’ fortune." 

  "Zen,” said Todd. 

 [1] No prizes for guessing where this line came from 

~

  Duncan Matthews could feel his heartbeat in his ribcage. He’d be out of here in a split second if it wasn’t for the hot-tempered redhead looming over him in the next chair. 

  “There’s no need to worry,” said Jean in her dangerously friendly tones. “I’ll be *right* with you for moral support." 

  _…yipe…_ 

~

  They met while Sara was on her way to Drama. 

  "Janine." 

  "Thara." 

  "How’s life?" 

  "Thuckth pretty much bad,” Janine summarised. “I got a D-minuth in English." 

  "Start reading those books I gave you. You’ll find them helpful." 

  Janine looked extremely helpless. "Could you… give them to me again? I… kinda threw them out the last time…" 

  Sara grimaced and fished for a wallet. She produced a card. "Here. This place sells them. I don’t re-give non-perishable gifts." 

  "It'th gonna be painful, isn’t it?" 

  "I’m not exactly economically advantaged at the moment, either, dear. Life for some may be a box of chocolates, but ours–" 

  Janine joined the chorus, ”–ith a box full of wrappers.“ She sighed. "I get it. Thankth." 

  "I’ll appreciate it if you show learning,” Sara called over her shoulder as she made her way to Drama class. 

  “You’re late,” said Ms Terwillager. 

  “First time finding the place,” said Sara. “This particular area’s a labyrinth." 

  "Nevertheless, latecomers pay the penalty. Pick a task from the Tardy Jar." 

  As she walked up to it, some students began chanting, "Tar-dy, tar-dy, tar-dy…" 

  "And the winner is…” Sara unfolded the paper. “Create and sing lyrics to the Hornpipe with a finishing qualifyer. One minute." 

  "You have one minute to think it up, then you have to perform,” supplied Jean. 

  Sara concentrated. Her tongue slid out between her teeth and her brow lowered as she stared at nothing. 

  “Ding,” said an anonymous wag. 

  “Fries are done,” laughed his compatriot. 

  Sara shook her head. “I can’t do it. It’s almost lewd." 

  "You must perform the task,” said Ms Terwillager. 

  Sara cleared her throat. “I appologise in advance for my supreme lack of voice.” She took the pose. “It’s the hornpipe dance and I’ll show you how it goes/ Gents you stand up on one leg/ Ladies take off all your clothes/ And then you hop/ And then you bop/ And don’t you stop/ Until you drop/ And that’s the hornpipe that you’re dancing when you’ve got a runny nose." 

  Blushing from her toes, Sara took her seat. 

  The rest of the class was deathly quiet. 

  "Dude,” said the wag. 

  “Whoah,” said Jean. 

  Sara curled in her chair. Supplicant’s pose. Hands under her thighs, both feet firmly on the floor, knees jammed together… head down, shoulders supporting the weight of her upper frame… and elbows spiritedly attempting to meet in the middle. 

  Awful. Awful. Awful. Awful. Awful… 

  Someone started clapping. Someone else joined. Then the whole class… 

  What? 

  Ms Terwillager lifted Sara’s chin up with her pinkie. “It’s called ‘applause’, darling. A sign of appreciation. You, my dear, are the first Tardy to *ever* accomplish a Tardy Task." 

  "But… it was awful…" 

  Ms Terwillager produced a tissue and daubed gently at Sara’s proto-tears. "I see you’re here for confidence issues,” she said, just above the noise of the class. “You’ll be *fine*.” She turned, slamming her cane on the bare wood floor. “Enough! We shall commence, today… roleplay.”

~~

  Todd found her after class, completely croggled, and actually lead her halfway towards detention before she spoke. 

  “I think I’ve been through the singularly most surreal experience of my life… and I get to do it again on Thursday." 

  Todd nodded. He’d seen her schedule. Crowded was not the word. In order to compensate for Sara’s… information capacity, the school had juggled some of her lessons. Today’s English class was supposed to be Study Hall, but since her study materials had yet to arrive, she was free to go where she whist. 

  She still got the homework, of course, every day; but the classes she attended were spread across the board. 

  _And tomorrow, she’s taking Art with me,_ he thought, and practically glowed. Aloud, he said, "So what was this surreal thing, yo?" 

  "I think it distils as LARPing through time and space,” said Sara. “We were given… pieces. Artifacts. The task was to become the character they belonged to for twenty minutes." 

  Todd could just picture fifteen or so kids dressed up from the Drama department’s rag-bag of leftover costumery. "Yo?" 

  "Military jacket and a sort of beret thingy with a medal on it. I became the very model of a tinpot dictator supreme.” A brief, pained look crossed her features. “The character was male and… very crude. I swear he spent fifteen of those twenty minutes *flirting* with Jean beause she was playing -er- a lady of negotiable affections." 

  Todd noticed the very subtle distinction between Sara and the person she’d been for a space of time. "You okay?" 

  "Mostly. The perverse little man tried to follow me home, but I sealed him firmly in his box." 

  His face must have projected the _Uh oh…_ for a mile and a half. 

  "No, darling. An actual cardboard box. In the storage room.” Her eloquent hands sketched the dimensions, but never let go of his hand. 

  He sighed. “Don’t *scare* me like that, yo." 

  "I swore off boxes, darling. They’re bad for me. Except the physical kind.” She broke off holding his hand, but only to give him a hug. 

  _Mmmm… head at breast level…_ Todd felt better about his place in the world. “C'mon. We don’t wanna be late fo’ detention." 

  "O yes,” Sara agreed. “We can’t miss the whirlwind excitement of completely random, yet boring tasks." 

  "Should we both do the 'what ho’ stuff this time?" 

  "Please?”

~

  Jean caught the edge of it when she came to pick them up. 

  “What, hoe?" 

  "Hoe." 

  ”*HO-ooooooo*…“ 

  "Hoe, ho!" 

  They were tilling soil under the supervision of Mr Kian, who seemed to be the one teacher immune to the Tolensky-Adrien comedy duo. 

  "Ho-ho, hoe." 

  "What?" 

  "Hoe." 

  Jean watched. Evidently, they’d used no more words than variants of 'what’ and 'ho’ for half an hour. She was personally amazed that Kian wasn’t a twitching wreck by now. 

  "Are they done, yet?” she asked. 

  “What ho, 'ho?” said Todd. 

  _Gah…_ 

  “Hoe, what?” said Sara. 

  “Oh, ho ho…" 

  Mr Kian sighed. "I’d hoped ignoring it would work… but evidently not, m'kay." 

  "Hoe, hoe, hoe, hoho, hoe hoe, hoho, hoe hoe - ho[1]…" 

  {Bedeep.} 

  ”*Now* their time is up,“ said Kian. "Do you know how to make them *stop*?" 

  "Joke’s over; both of you." 

  ”'Ho, ho!“ 

  Sara leaned over to kiss Todd. "Enough, darling. The aim is to make the punishment reverse. Not spread." 

  They handed their hoes in and then indicated the egress with a final, "Ho!" 

  Mr Kian shook his head. "At least they’re not destroying property…” he muttered. 

 [1] To the tune of the Anvil Chorus.

~~

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara breezed into her seat and arranged her books. The text had proved some interesting reading. Sara had checked it against her younger self’s work and had seriously considered suing the teachers that had told her that she’d never have to worry about such work. 

  _Never say ‘never’, hm? I wonder what else of my old works was quashed because of a 'never’?_ 

  “Ms Adrien?" 

  Sara looked up. "Twenty-eight.

Continued from yesterday:

  Lance sponged the last of Todd’s spit off his pants leg and shoe. Ack. Why was it, when Todd *had* to gargle lysol, some of the mixture of slime, blood and disinfectant always landed on *him*? It was fate or something. He might as well give up now and wear clothes that were easy to wipe clean. 

  And when he left the boy’s lavatory, there was Kitty. She looked displeased with him and about to

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara emerged ruffled from the towel, reaching automatically for the hair treatment that, in conjunction with the hot iron, removed all traces of unruly and unpredictable kinks in her tresses. 

  _Wait. Why am I doing this?_ 

  Mother, being someone with a natural curl to her hair, thought straight hair was lovely. And since Sara’s locks were neither, the morning routine had been there since time immemorial. 

  The treatment failed the instant Sara got her hair soaked, and

Continued from yesterday:

  The work would have gone well, if it wasn’t for the constant interruptions. 

  “Sara? Can you like, ask your boyfriend what he did with my hair ties?” said Kitty. 

  Evan was next, “Hey, your frogness, where the heck are my board tools?" 

  And then Sam, "Uh. Hate to intrude ‘n’ all, but has th’ Toad seen my plectrum set anywheres?" 

  And Rogue, "Ah swear, Todd, if y'all

Continued from yesterday:

  When Ororo returned to the kitchen, there was not a lot to do. Sara the habitual tidier and apparent housework ninja had struck again. Logan was pacing the kitchen on the phone and there was no sign of Todd. 

  The benches were clean. The washing up had been washed, dried, and placed back where the various items had come from. There was even a helpful list of things they’d run out of on the fridge. 

  Damnit. She

Continued from yesterday:

  Constant practice with her shields - now that she had a good reason to constantly practice - meant that they were getting better. 

  She was learning to tune out those damn clocks and the random noises of someone trying to be quiet at BF in the morning. At most, she would awake, identify Sara as the source, and slide gratefully back into slumber. 

  She was even learning to tune out that goddamn little morning song. 

  Therefore, it was a

Continued from yesterday:

  “*Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh*…” said Sara. She was prone on the grass and watching the clouds. “I’m'a sit here and not move until the grass itchies drive me berzerk." 

  "Sounds like a plan, yo,” Todd had settled nearby. He was mere centimetres from touching her, but he was enjoying her closeness. “How long we got?" 

  "Well, I could show you how to make your very own spring-foam locker-troll. Y'know…

Continued from yesterday:

  Todd was starting to admire the change. Sara stood straighter, acted with more confidence… okay, so she was a little bit disarmingly honest and had gained the ability to make atrocious puns, but she was getting *better*. 

  Entertaining visions of Sara in full confidence-mode, with longer hair and him on her arm took most of his full attention for the last delivery. 

  “Now, I know these ones were pleasant thoughts,” said Sara. “You haven’

Continued from yesterday:

  Danoz found his partner in the small kitchen, eating a doughnut-shaped pastry. “Hey, Roxy…[1]" 

  "You should try these. They’re surprisingly good… Coffee’s the *bomb*." 

  "Yeahyeahyeah,” said Danoz. “I just wanted to ask you something." 

  "Yeah?" 

  "Notice anything… *weird* about this house?" 

  Roxy took a swig as she stared through her partner. The way she stared through people had unnerved

Continued from yesterday:

  The sales clerk frowned at Sara’s bruises, Todd’s cast, and then Logan. Something compelled him to make up a story. 

  “Some fuckhead broke my hand an’ she beat him up, yo,” said Todd. 

  “You should see the other guy,” grinned Sara. 

  Logan glared at them. 

  “What? It’s not like they’d believe the truth,” Todd muttered. “Fuhgeddaboudit. ’T'cha havin’, sweets?" 

  "

Continued from yesterday:

  Such a crack could have ended the universe. 

  It could have very well ended Sara. 

  Todd stood, watching Logan reel under the force of the blow. His feet were rooted to the spot as the canuck staggered backwards. 

  Everyone was holding their breath. 

  Logan regained his footing. Straightened himself. Then, calm and cold as ice, put his jaw back into its socket. 

  {krik'l… *Krak*!} 

  “Lady Favisham’s girl, anh?” he said. 

  Sara, her hands over

Continued from yesterday:

  It was the first five-course meal the Mansion had had in well over two decades. It was also the first meal with a significant portion of the brotherhood present. Tensions should have been high, yet there was amiable chatter between the two teams. 

  Fred was talking about some of the fun he’d had in the truck rallies, Lance had struck up a conversation with *Scott* - of all people - comparing foster homes, the food, the amenities,

Continued from yesterday:

  She was still asleep. Still motionless and pale. Xavier had positioned himself on one side of her bed. 

  Todd took up her hand on the other side, made himself as comfortable as he could on the visitor’s chair, and held her hand against his cheek. 

  “Be strong, baby,” he whispered. 

  Xavier frowned. “What you’re doing could be dangerous,” he warned. 

  “Ain’t leavin’ her,” he said. His

Warning: This episode contains depictions of a mental/emotional meltdown.

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara didn’t know why she continued to argue her case, but she did. “Adrian Essel doesn’t *exist*,” she protested. “Do I have to provide documentation? DNA? A *physical*?" 

  "Paying attention in class is more than sufficient, Mr Essel. You are on my rolls as Adrian Essel, and Adrian Essel you shall remain." 

  _Joy. A freaking beaurocrat._ 

  They entered the