𝟬𝟬𝟭. like montague and capulet
【 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗰𝘆 ━━ 𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 】
𝗼𝗻𝗲 ✴ like montague and capulet
𝗲𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 - 𝘄𝗼𝗹𝗳 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻.
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❝IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SOPHOMORE YEAR, COME ON.❞ DAD SAYS SCREWING THE CAMERA ON THE TRIPOD.
Just like the year before, and the year before that, and the one before that.
Sighing, I hold up the cracked and chipped wooden mini blackboard with chalk marks on it from years of writing, that never truly faded over time. Now having the word 'Sophomore' written on it.
Clicking the button Dad runs back before the timer ends. Holding me tightly as the both of us smile for the picture.
Moving to the camera after the burst of frames were taken he looks it over, a sad smile pulling on his lips as a sigh leaves him, "I'm so proud of you." he said looking up.
Nodding I try not to take it in so deeply, already feeling my throat tighten up as I do.
"Your mom would be so proud of who you have become."
Looking down, you smile sadly. It had been a while since he brought her up, but old traditions always bring him a sense of nostalgia.
His phone rang breaking the moment. The name making me swallow thickly: Jenna. My father's new wife, his second love, twin flame, or whatever he calls her these days.
I on the other hand like to call her Tremaine, Gothel, Frieda, or any variation of the stepmother character with a name.
It is not like she hasn't tried, she has. Too hard in my opinion, but who's to say it's not like I want to talk to her anyway.
And maybe that's unfair, but it's too soon.
Clearing my throat I pull my bike from the pavement as I place the blackboard down. Taking the seat, untangle my earphones, "Uhm, I have to get going━"
"I can drive you."
Plugging one earbud in, I place my phone into the front pocket before making sure my backpack leans on the carrier properly.
"Don't worry, I could use the ride." I say not looking up at him.
But if I had, I would have seen how his face had fallen before he puts it back together, a thing he does often. Slowly nodding at my words, "Maybe we can have dinner, talk about our first days back?"
Pushing off I nod, the tension not realising from my shoulders, "Yeah, see you tonight."
Staring to petal I wave at him before turning the corner at the end of the street making him disappear behind the bushes. Plugging in my other earbud, I continue to make my way to school.
Looking at the scenery I think back to how I acted and if I shouldn't have shut down the moment I saw her name on his phone.
But the shuffle of the music app is greater than me as, at that exact moment, the soft bass of my parents' song starts playing.
Soon Ben E. King starts singing 'Stand by Me' and because of his gentle voice, I am a lot kinder to myself as I handled that situation as gracefully as possible given that the tradition, that moment, the act of celebrating a new academic year was touched by mom, and broken by her phone call.
✴
Arriving at school I set your bike in the rack before locking it. Walking up to the entrance I pay no mind to the friends embracing each other like they hadn't seen each other in years.
"The best thing that happened here since... ━ Tabitha Hayek!" a voice suddenly calls out.
Pulling an earbud out, I move my head around already having a guess as to whom the source of the call was, "Better hope you didn't slack off and did your readings." Stilinski says when our eyes connect ━ confirming who said my name ━ already talking about school work before I had even entered the building.
Rolling my eyes, "Duh!" I say as I make my way past him, "I'm going to crush you."
"No, you're not!"
"We will see, pretty boy!"
"You think I'm pretty?"
"Pretty stupid!"
If only I had turned to see the heat rise to his cheeks and the raised eyebrows his best friend had sent him. It would have been perfect teasing material.
But at last, I hadn't, and instead made my way to the office to pick up this semester's schedule and locker number.
Sighing relieved at the number 237, the locker number I had last year as well. Opening my new━old locker, the same pictures and cards are still stuck to the locker door making me grimace.
Don't get me wrong, I am happy that it's still there as I forgot to take them out, but it also confirms that they really do not clean the school during the summer.
A loud squeak, makes me look up from the pictures with my favourite blond to her in the flesh. Who is currently vastly making her way over to me. Gasping, I open my arms for her to run into.
Hugging her tightly, she lets out a sigh of relief, "Ugh, never leave me for this long ever again." I tell her, as she squeezes me.
"I missed you every day."
"As you should, I am very missable."
"Shut up. Don't ruin this moment." Erica says, slapping my back for the comment. Squeezing her tighter in return, "Also, we have totally become one of those girls." She groans, trying to pull away from the death grip.
Humming, I shrug my shoulders, "Who cares." I mumble. Stepping from side to side to continue to bathe in the hug, "I got you something." She says after a moment.
Pulling away, she opens the front of her backpack, pulling out a pretty keychain. Holding my hands out, I smile at the mini fairy, "I saw it and thought that belong to my Tabby." The blond says.
Clipping it on my bag, I can't help but continue to smile, "Now I feel bad, I didn't get you anything." I tell her.
Shrugging, she links her arm with me, "You didn't go anywhere this summer." She says, leading us to walk to her locker.
"Don't remind me." I groan, "I love my grandma, and I loved having her here all summer." I tell her, not wanting to complain about what comes along with her visits.
"But?"
"No butts."
Feeling her eyes burn into my cheek, I look to see her brow raised, "But being a translator sucks." I finally cave.
Making her snore, "It is such a hard job. People want me to translate things word for word, but it doesn't make sense like that." I complain.
"Don't remind me, I am never tutoring anyone ever again."
Unlinking our arms, she moves to open her locker. Having the same as last year as well. "And you know what's worse?" She asks.
"What?"
Taking out the books she needs, she puts them in her bag. "You are going to leave me. Being in your stupid smart people classes." Erica groans.
"Well not yet, have to retake the requirement tests."
"Huh? Since when?"
"Got an email over the summer."
Slamming her locker closed, she marches away. "You are going the wrong way!" I call, knowing that she has History first.
Being completely ignored, she continues to walk, "Where are you going?" I ask, following her, "We are going to curb-stomp him."
"Erica!" I whisper scream, not loving the unwanted attention, "I could take him." She says determined.
Making my face crunch up in confusion, "In a fight?" I ask, astounded by her confidence.
"I could."
Looking her up and down, "Sure..." I trail off, not believing her for a second.
Erica is a lovely girl, she truly is but she is also relatively small and definitely can't take a full grown adult man. Even with the element of surprise on her side.
"You know the plan;" I tell her, "Nail the tests, get good grades, early admission to Princeton, rub it into his face when I tell him I'm not going." We say in unison, having talked about the plan for a year now.
"Exactly..." I nod, holding her arm, "Not curb━stomping our teacher. We could get expelled." I tell her.
Making her sigh, rolling her eyes, "Or arrested." She mumbled. Nodding, I sigh, "Stop saying you are going to fight someone." I say pinching her arm.
"Ouch," The blond curses, rubbing her arm, "you would fight someone for me too." She adds. Before I could answer the the bell interrupts me, walking backwards, I point at her, "That is so not the point." I say, turning to walk to my first class.
"It is!"
"Is not!"
Putting her fingers on her ears, "La, la, la!" She calls, vanishing in the crowd of people before I could answers.
Groaning, I turn around. Not paying attention to the people around me I bump right into someone, "I am so sorry." I start to apologize.
Kneeling to help them pick up the books, I made them drop. Helping stack them up, I look up at the person, seeing the face attached the tension leaves my body.
"Oh, it's you." I say, not that worried about what he thought.
"It's me..." He trails off, "Stiles." A small smile pulled up his lips.
"I know your name, Stilinski."
Standing up along with him, holding the books out, "Why are you holding your books?" I ask confused, seeing his backpack open and empty hanging off his shoulder.
"I- Uh..." He stutters, trying to come up with an excuse that is not the truth of him running from his locker when he saw her, just, so he could ask for her schedule, "The bell rang, needed to get to class." He eventually says.
Making me nod, holding the flap of his bag as he shoves them in, "So... what class do you have now?" Stiles asks, finally having all his books in.
"English."
Starting to walk, "Wow, me too." He says, following close behind. Humming, I look down at my binder, and check over my schedule that is tucked on the front, "Mister Collins?" I ask, seeing if we have a teacher this semester.
Making him nod, "Can I see your schedule?" He asks, holding his schedule up. "Knock yourself out." I tell him, giving him the binder.
Looking along with him, "We have a lot of classes in common." The buzzed boy voices what we both notice.
"Yay me." I say, taking back my binder that Stiles holds out for me. A small smile on his face, "So... how was your break?" He asks, continuing to follow along.
Shrugging, he lets me move in front of him as we go up the stairs, "It was alright. Erica wasn't here, so, I hung out with my grandma, worked, helped out at the library." I say.
"Me too." Stiles says. Making my brows furrow as I look back at him, "Hung out with my granddad, not your grandma." He clarifies.
Nodding, we turn the corner, "What else did you do?" I ask.
Blinking for a second, he stands still, at the continued conversation, "Hung out with Scott, practice for lacrosse." Stiles says, continuing to walk with me.
"Think you going to make first line?"
Causing him to snore, "No," He says, laughing softly at the question. Making me look up, "Why not?" I ask, I mean he is not the greatest and he is mostly sitting on the bench, but with practice, he could be better.
"I am not good."
Humming, I play with the book and binder in my hand. "You should practice with Danny." I tell him.
"Yeah, maybe." He says shaking his head. Rubbing his head, "I don't think Danny likes me very much." He says after a moment.
"I wonder why." I say.
Knowing the amount of dislike the Māhealani boy has for him simply because he talks a lot, about not a lot, and switches topics at any given moment, which are all slight nuances.
It was set in stone last year when he almost hit Danny with a car during the school's learning permit event.
"Did you hear about the cut-off body in the woods?" The boy says, suddenly changing the subject.
"I heard about it at the diner but I thought it was fake, to be honest." I say.
"Oh, no, it is very real." He says with a smile.
Side-eyeing him, my nose crunches up, "Don't say it like that. You sound like you killed her." I tell him.
"What? No!"
Stopping, I turn to him. Raising my brow at him, "I didn't! Blood makes me squeamish. Hate it." He defends.
Continuing to look at him, he tilts his head, looking back, "I listen to my Dad's phone calls." Stiles caves. Making me nod at the truth of it, his Dad is the Sheriff after all, "Invasion of privacy..." I hum, "Still bad, but better than a possible murderer."
"Exactly! Focus on that."
Turning to walk again, I hum, "Okay, if we were a fictional duo, who would we be?" The hyper Stilinski, asks, often changing topics to continue a conversation.
"Haven't really thought about it. Who do you think?"
"Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley? ...Or Elizabeth Bennett and Fitzwilliam Darcy? Maybe even Princess Leia and Han Solo?" He says, fairly fast, making it known he had thought about it before.
Glancing at him, he is playing with his bag straps not looking at me, "Don't all of them end up together?" I ask, a little confused.
"I mean yeah, but they are all rivals. And that is the focus."
"Why are you reading so many romance stories?"
"I find them soothing."
"Fair enough." I nod, '"And I see us more as the Montague and Capulet." I say, giving him my answer.
Entering the classroom, the boy follows close behind, "So, Romeo and Juliet?" He asks. Placing my bag on the desk before taking a seat. As he does the same with his own, "But without the ancestry deep feud, right?"
"I mean we could start one." I tell him, taking my stuff out.
Glancing up, he shakes his head fast, "And, no, we are more like their dads." I clarify, leaning on the back of the chair to look back at him. His seat is diagonal from me, one column back to the left.
"So... you're fat with a moustache?"
"At least I can grow one."
"I have one."
Pressing his lips together he moves closer for me to see his non━existing stubble. Squinting my eyes, I try to look for it, "I don't see it." I say honestly.
"It's because I shaved." he says, sitting back in his seat, scratching his jaw. Humming I nod unconvinced, "Sure." I say sarcastically. Making him sit up again, "I did-" he tries again.
Getting cut off by the teacher walking in. Looking back to the front, I could still hear him huff.
Causing me to cover my mouth, laughing softly in it. Seeing his annoyed face will never not be amusing. It is truly very funny.
"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." Mister Collins starts as he writes down the first assignment on the whiteboard.
Taking a deep breath for the next part of his monologue, "And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened." our teacher continues, oblivious to the lack of excitement at the topic at hand of his 'macabre brained' students, or simply not paying attention to it.
"But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody," he says, finally finishing his board graffiti. Clicking his marker in a dramatic fashion, "which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."
Giving us all a moment to read over the syllabus. I am relieved to know that most of the books written down I have already read, or at the very least already recognised.
Thank my grandmother and her interest in the English language. One that I didn't share, as to me personally French and Russian have way more interesting concepts, linguistic components and idioms than English could ever provide.
It is pretty calm in class as everyone reads quietly so when the door suddenly opens revealing the principal all the attention is on him.
Or rather the pretty girl trailing behind him. She has long dark hair and fair skin. She's wearing a brown jacket that compliments her well, "Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome." he says, pulling the attention back to him before at his quick introduction before leaving Allison stranded in front of the class.
She picks up on it quickly and makes her way to the only empty seat in the room. Behind Scott McCall, who turns around with a pen ready the moment she sits down.
My brows furrow at the action but she smiles sweetly at it accepting the offer. It seemed odd to me. Maybe that is something that straight people use as a mating call? Who knows, I have seen weirder things but it was still very odd.
"We begin with Kafka's metamorphosis on page 133." Mister Collins says now officially starting with the class.
And so started the hour-long torture of popcorn callings and mediocre attempts at giving a more in-depth meaning behind Kafka's words.
Not that I didn't like hearing my teachers' interpolations, but more that there is a problem with how it is taught. You can't teach anyone how to comprehend more complicated concepts without a good foundation.
One that Beacon Hills Highschool sadly did not offer and because of that most of Mister Collins's efforts were in vain.
Nevertheless, the class ended, and just like everyone else I packed my stuff up as fast as I could to get out before the hall rush started.
"I bet you I can read it faster than you can." an all too familiar voice says.
"No, you can't."
"Tomorrow, here, let's see how far you got." Stiles says as he continues to push his stuff into his bag while trying to catch up, "Deal."
Holding my hand out, he glances at it. Quickly licking his hand, before shaking mine, "Oh, God, Stilinski, that is disgusting." I say, pulling my hand away from his.
"It is a spit deal, those are unbreakable." he screams running down the hall.
Bumping into people without a care, seeing him do so I can't help the small smile that tucks up my lips.
Until I look down at my hand, nose crunching up as I shake it making my way to the bathroom to take care of the disgusting saliva now fully covering my hand.
God, why is it so thick and slimy?
✴
UN-EDITED
WORD COUNT: 3206
authors note
i adore their moments, so much!
it will definitely be up and down but always special to me. mostly because i started this story years ago and am finally re-writing AND publishing it!
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