Bubble, bubble, POP POP, it snap, crackles within her mouth, teeth made to gnash over the peppermint taste that cools her temper when her nerves burn a little too hot. Teacher intoning, and, clock made to tick, tick, down to the end of the world at the barrel of a gun, the bell rings to signal that it’s all fucking over, the litany of books slamming shut filling the air, a symphony in motion, Toni kicking her book bag out from beneath her desk, belongings slotting in neatly within. Phone left to a back pocket in skin tight jeans, she’s shifty eyes and tongue slick over pink gloss, Cheryl’s off today, babysitting their earlier endeavours involving dead bodies and rivers, a rarity with which she finds herself, alone, for once.
But that’s not something that lasts. It never does, a breath taken, and familiarity flickers within her vision, right there, SERPENT LEATHER BLACK taking a tour of the hallway as a fainter grin finds her expression, a foot kicked out to pin, whisky neat, against metal lockers, and effective stop despite her miniature stature. “And what are you doing here exactly? Little old for high school girlfriends, don’t you think?” a drawl within her voice that drips sarcasm, but to him is a betrayal, he’ll hear how she’s missed him there in her tone, leaning in to slap her hand to his, excentricities of childhood handshakes and greetings, another language best spoken within the Southside.
“Dude the fuck, I haven’t seen your ass in a straight minute.” ebonics where, you don’t need to play pretend, where she isn’t the straight A student of Riverdale High that she knew she could always be, but the girl from back home, both of them straight TRAILER TRASH, but that was still theirs to own and to have. A raised eyebrow, chin jutted at an angle, upwards -- not since he’d found her on nights at Le Bonne Nuit, slinking in on midnights for a burger as she and the girls manned the upstairs. “You lookin’ for someone? Need help?”
@apocalypseacademia // felix auburn
