Guardians Awakening/Chapter Three/ The First Day

A/N: This was previously known as Burning Girl and the Rebel Leader. If you've read that you don't need to read this.

Monday morning Verlaine is slumped down in her Mom’s car telling herself the same thing she told herself every morning when she went to school. “It’s not for them, it’s for you, it’s for knowledge, the material for your books,” she mumbles. Seven times she has to mumble this before hopping out of the car and grinning at her mother. “Thanks for the ride Mom, I’ll bike back home.” She shrugs on her backpack and runs to the trunk to get her bike. Danielle insisted on driving her to school, a first day ritual for them. Every other day she’d have to ride her bike. Once Verlaine gets her bike Danielle blows her a kiss and drives away, heading for the hospital. After hooking her bike up to a rack and securing it with a combination lock and chain, Verlaine looks up to marvel at the school building. It’s bigger than her last school’s campus and has a lot more garden, though everything is dying with the oncoming winter. Still, she loves it.

With her head high, she walks up the front path to the stone stairwell. She notes every crack in the stone, every chink in the bricks, every speck of rust on the black, metal railing, and the shine on all the windows. The building is old with new additions; above the doors is a stone banner with that quote from Bacon. Knowledge is Power, it reads. She nods in respect as she likes that quote and pushes open the left of the two heavy mahogany doors. The floors are made of faux wood and the lockers are all painted jade green, one of the school colors. A picture of old Elias Rill stood in a case in the lobby, the face matching the statue out in the yard. Verlaine picks up a pamphlet from a box sitting on the edge of the glass case’s dais and opens it, scanning the school map. “Main office, main office,” she says under her breath.

“Looking for the main office,” asks a male voice behind her.

She turns around to find a boy a foot taller than her with shoulder length black hair wearing a leather jacket. He grins at her, a mischievous grin.

“Um, yeah can you help me?”

“Yup, I’m Thorn Connolly, Rill Institutes very own troublemaker. Remember my name kay?”

“Sure, I’m Verlaine Ishida, I got kicked out of New York City for being a menace to society, remember my name.”

He laughs, “Verlaine, what kind of name is that?”

“It’s a made up name, my mother put Vera and Elaine together and boom,” she throws her hands back. “Verlaine. It’s supposed to mean the true or faithful light. Ishida is Japanese, just like Connolly is Irish.”

“Wow, someone sure knows there Gaelic family names.”

“Yeah, I like Ireland the most out of the Gaelic/ Celtic countries. Although I’m Scandinavian.”

“Didn’t you just tell me you’re Japanese?”

“My father is Japanese, my mother and grandmother are Swedish. Sweden is in the Scandinavian region. Anyways, you said you could help me find the main office?”

“Yeah, follow me Vera Elaine,” he says, walking off to the left.

“It’s Verlaine,” she calls with a frown, and follows him.

“Whatever.”

Several corridors later and a few gibes about her silver hair, Verlaine is thankful that they have finally made it to the main office because she was one gibe away from elbowing Thorn in the gut. She settled for beating him at his own game, which won her the quote on quote, bad boy’s, respect. He delivered her to the main office with time to spare before the first bell. He leans against the wall beside the door, not planning to move until the second bell. Verlaine rolls her eyes and walks into the office and right to desk where this ash blonde secretary in a baby blue long sleeve shirt and denim jeans sat. Thinking the woman couldn’t be less out of place in the antique, business appropriate front room of the main office she sets her hand on the desk and speaks.

“Hello, my name is Verlaine Hedgerow-Ishida; I’m the new student from Manhattan. Can I get my schedule here?”

“Huh, oh yes, let me just print it out for you,” says the woman, voice laced with a southern accent. She prints the schedule out from the printer beside her and hands the hot paper to Verlaine. “Looks like you’ve got Brass right now; he’s our History teacher. He doesn’t really follow much of a curriculum.”

“Good to know, thanks Ms. Um?”

“Just call me Zoe, everyone does, but don’t let Headmistress Rill hear you,” she mock whispers the last part.

Laughing, Verlaine nods. “Alright, thanks Zoe, hope I’m not in here often or my parents will move me again.” She waves the schedule behind her and leaves the room.

“So, who do you have first,” Thorn asks, pushing himself off the wall as she walks past.

“Brass in room 309.”

“Hey we’re in the same class, come on, I’ll let you ride the elevator with me.”

“They allow that here?”

“Nope, elevator rights are for the juniors and seniors who have classes on every floor and the kids in certain clubs. The rest of us walk, but according to this doctor’s note, I have asthma and am allowed to take the elevator.” He waves the note he’s just pulled from his pocket in front of her. “So come on Ishida, let’s not be late on your first day.” He grabs her arm and pulls her along behind him, heading towards the elevator.

Laughing, Verlaine lets herself be tugged along. “Though I’m not one to judge a book by its cover, I think you’re gonna be pretty fun Thorn,” she says in the elevator.

“I’ve never heard that from a smart girl before.”

“Why do you say that? That I’m smart that is?”

“One, because I can see your schedule,” he says, pointing to the paper filled with AP classes that Verlaine tries to hide too late. “And two, because Rill Institute has very high standards, you wouldn’t be able to transfer unless you were a genius. So, what’d you get on the application test?”

“I didn’t get any application test; I didn’t even know I’d be here until the last minute. Truth is I got into some trouble; okay a lot of trouble, in New York City. My parents probably thought I needed a change of surroundings.”

“Oh really,” he says, arching a brow as he leans back into the wall, arms crossed. “What was the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“Nothing major, I just got busted for selling cigarettes to some girls in my old school and spent a few hours in the slammer until my parents came for me. They treated it as if I committed murder. Then again whenever I do something bad they automatically think something is wrong with me.”

“Have they suggested therapy yet,” he asks jokingly. “The school counselors seem to think I need it.”

“I’ve had therapy. My doctor said I was fine,” there’s a smile in her voice as she speaks, a sarcastic one. “Although it did convince my parents to give me whatever I want, sort of.”

“Don’t you have siblings?”

“I’m an only child, what about you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She fixes him with a look.

He sighs, “Fine, I’ve got two older sisters in college, I’m the youngest.”

“Aw, you’re the family baby.”

“Well so are you. Your parents probably obsess over you.”

She shrugs, “True. Hey this is our floor,” she grabs his hand. “Which way to the classroom?”

Thorn has enough time to say ‘left’, before she pulls him out of the elevator and runs left. They join the throng of students swarming into classrooms just before the last bell rings. Verlaine lets go of Thorn’s hand and walks over to a tall man in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair, broad shoulders, eye-glasses, and a tweed suit. She hands him her transcript but before he can read it an old woman with smartly cut hair and a cross face walks in the room.

“Good morning Headmistress Rill, is there anything I can help you with,” asks Brass in a surprisingly light, enthusiastic voice.

“No, it’s not you I’m here for, it’s her,” she points to Verlaine.

“What, I can’t be in trouble already, I just got here,” Verlaine defends, shocked.

Headmistress Rill laughs, shaking her head. “No, no, no my dear. You see, my silly secretary neglected to tell you an important detail about your time here at Rill Institute Ms. Ishida. You aren’t going to be a student here; you’re going to be a student teacher.”

“What?”

“Your mother and a Professor H.J Winters from Harvard recommended it. Come; let’s talk in my office so I can explain this better?”

Verlaine groans, “They never told me any of this, and they say I’m sneaky.” Following Headmistress Rill out of the classroom, Verlaine catches the eyes of a girl with blonde hair in pigtails wearing a tie-dyed shirt staring at her. Then again, everyone is watching her leave so it shouldn’t seem significant, but she swears she sees a sparkle of recognition in the girl’s eyes. She shrugs it off when the door closes behind her.

In the Headmistress’s office the old lady explains that Verlaine’s old professor from when she was still living the “child genius” had recommended a counseling experience would be beneficial to her studies once she went for her Masters. She had whizzed through high school, was sent to Harvard on scholarship, and got her Bachelor’s degree in three years. Apparently Danielle and Professor Winters thought she was still going to get her Masters and become a psychiatrist.

“They said they wanted to surprise you. Oh, and I just wanted to say what an honor it is to have you here Ms. Ishida, a child prodigy like yourself might motivate the kids to work harder in school,” says Headmistress Rill.

“That’s nice, but I was really hoping to be a student for a change. You know, have a normal teenage life like every normal teenage girl should.”

The headmistress laughs a ‘ho, ho, ho’ laugh. “My, why ever would you want such a thing? You’re not a normal teenage girl you are a genius among geniuses, a star of the elite. Rill Institute would be proud to have you as one of our staff members.”

“What exactly would I be doing?”

“You’re going to be a guidance counselor, and not just for the seniors but for the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors as well. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Verlaine thinks about it, “I guess. But wouldn’t you rather have an adult do that, someone who’s already gotten their PhD in this subject?”

“No, that won’t do, we need someone who is still in the mindset of a teen and you’re the perfect candidate. Think of it as a community service, it’ll look great on your resume and application form for when you go for your Masters.”

“Well, I guess that does look good and I am still in a high school, though not the way I was expecting to be, so—. Rill, you’ve got yourself a deal, when do I start?”

Delighted, Rill thanks her and tells her that she is starting tomorrow. “For now, just learn your way around the school, the campus is big you know. Go meet some of the students too.”

“Alright, can I go?” she says, though she’s already standing.

“Yes, yes, go. See you tomorrow Ms. Ishida.”

The lunch room is filled with the chatter of students, the sound of chairs scarping back and forth against the linoleum tile, and the trays hitting the tables. Hex, a girl with chocolate skin, long, dark brown hair tied back into one thick braid going down her back, walks over to an empty table in the back of the lunchroom. Her mind was filling with questions she needed to tell her friends and reporters for the school newspaper, Abbi and Yen to ask the new girl, Verlaine. She was lucky to have Brass first class on Monday morning, if she hadn’t she wouldn’t have been able to find the perfect new story for the paper, and as editor and Chief of the paper it was her job to make sure the whole school new about the child prodigy who would be gracing the institute with her presence. After Headmistress Rill left with Verlaine she had asked Brass to use the bathroom so she could go listen in on the conversation between principal and student-teacher. When the redhead Latina, Abbi, and the hyper-active/overly enthusiastic Vietnamese girl, Yen, sat down at the table with her, Hex filled them in.

“What?” exclaims Abbi, after hearing the story.

“Wow, that’s so cool,” says Yen. “We get to have a teenager be our guidance counselor.”

Hex nods, “Yup, and we need to find her and interview her before lunch is over?”

“Um, why can’t we just do it after school,” Abbi asks.

“Because,” says Hex, impatient. “We don’t know what time she’ll leave and I’d like to get the story written by today.”

“Okay, okay. Yen and I will do the interview and get a few photos of her, I’ll write the story, and you can edit and publish it.”

“Oh, yay,” Yen squeals, holding out a camera hanging from her neck. “That means I get to use my camera today. But do you think she’ll want to do an interview?”

“Your right, if she’s supposed to be some genius she might hate being interviewed, how are we gonna get this girl to talk?” Abbie says.

“You can ask,” says a voice from behind them. The three girls break from their huddle and turn to see a short, thin, silver haired girl smiling at them.

“Hey, I’m Verlaine Ishida, nice to meet you,” she says.

No one speaks, but the thought “Speak of the devil,” floats through Abbi’s head and for once, she doesn’t voice it.

Hex is the first to recover from her surprise. “Hi, I’m Hex Xavier, this is Abbi Garcia and Yen Long, we’re on the school newspaper. Do you mind an interview?”

“As long as you don’t mind me eating lunch during it,” Verlaine says, sitting down across from Hex.

“Nope. Yen, Abbi,” Hex says, pulling a pencil from behind her ear and a note pad from her knapsack.

Yen readies her camera and takes a shot of Verlaine, who smiles with her eyes closed to avoid the camera’s flash temporarily blinding her.

“Alright, first question,” says Abbi. “Hex, what’s my first question?”

Hex sighs and hands her the notepad and pencil. “I’ll ask the questions this time and you write down the answers.”

Abbi nods and Hex starts. “Alright, where are you from?”

“I was born in Brooklyn, New York but because of my habit of getting into trouble my family moved me from Queens to Manhattan and now I’m here,” Verlaine answers, pulling a bento from her bag.

“Where are you parents from?”

“My mother and grandmother are Swedish and my dad is Japanese. We alternate every holiday, so if we go to Japan for Christmas we have to visit relatives in Sweden for New Year’s Eve.”

“Uhuh, and where did you go to school?”

“Well, I went to P.S 91 in Brooklyn for two years and my teacher thought I was schizophrenic so my parents put me in therapy, weird because it’s normal for six year-olds to have imaginary friends. One thing led to another and I ended up not finishing elementary school and instead took several tests that got me sent straight into high school. I graduated from Beacon at ten and went to college to major in psychology. But the high school I just came from is an all-girls school called Winston Academy.”

“Wait,” says Abbi. “If you already graduated from college why go back to high school?”

“I wanted to try high school again, have a normal teenage life for once, and not be my parents’ prodigy child,” she says. Using chopsticks, she takes a bite of a sausage shaped like an octopus.

“Right,” says Hex. “What do you have to offer to the students at our school?”

“Besides knowledge of college,” Verlaine asks.

“Good point, do you have any hobbies, what’s you sign, and how old are you again?”

“I’m 15, I play guitar and I’m currently looking for a part-time job, my sign is Capricorn.”

“Alright, can you give the students one piece of advice for tomorrow’s paper?”

“Yes, never trust your parents,” she says, a little too angrily.

“Um, hello,” says an annoyed voice behind them. They all look up to see a tall girl with curly, strawberry blonde hair wearing a golden brown turtleneck and a green skirt that stops at her knees.

“Verlaine, meet Rill Institutes Miss Popular and all around mean girl, Jazmine Cassidy. Jaz, this is our new student teacher Verlaine Ishida,” says Hex.

“I don’t care, all I care about is that you’re in my seat new girl. Move,” Jaz demands.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay. Besides, you’ve got the rest of this side of the table,” says Verlaine, poking her chopsticks back into the bento and retrieving a sushi roll.

Jaz grumbles, but sits a few spaces beside Verlaine. “So why’s your hair silver, did you dye it?”

“No, I was born like this. I just don’t know how or why.”

“Ha, I don’t believe that. You’re just another emo freak with an attitude.”

“And you’re just another spoiled princess with no future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jaz snaps.

“It means you’ll peak early,” Verlaine says calmly. “Most bullies/jocks and mean girls, especially the blonde ones, peak early. You will fold sweaters for a living and the jocks will be changing our tires and oil. But that’s only if you let yourself fall into the stereotypes.”

“Hey look, Jaz is speechless for once,” says Abbi in a not so quiet whisper. Jaz shoots her a glare and she smiles innocently.