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'You should take yourself more seriously. You're very smart. I would hate to see you leave here.' 'You'd "hate" to see me leave?'

God, why another catholic school? Her family were just barely Catholic themselves, and if it weren't for her Nani, she wouldn't have even done her confirmation if it were left up to her parents. "It's the only place that'll keep you in line", they said. That, and they believed the education was apparently better compared to the secular co-eds. But Dana was used to co-eds. This was her first all-girl experience. And…it for sure wasn't St Trinian's.

Chapter 1: Ave Maria, Gee It's Good To See Ya!

AO3 ver. here

word count: 4,6083 category: F/F rating: general audience fandom: Interview with the Vampire ship: iwtv multiship ensemble tags: one-shot collection, genderswapped, iwtv female au, catholic girls high school au, human au, fluff, teen angst, girls in love, classic yuri tropes, wlw, loustat, dm, lesmand, loumand, danstat, danlou, miscellaneous others, cute lesbian queer gay shit

a/n: i wanted a yuri iwtv high school fic and couldn't find any, so i wrote it myself.

Te Mane Laudum Carmine

Chapter 1: Ave Maria, Gee It's Good To See Ya!

He was a skater boy / She said, "See you later, boy" / He wasn't good enough for her / She had a pretty face / But her head was up in space / She needed to come back down to earth (Avril Lavigne - Skater Boy)

DM

Only one student sat at the back of the classroom, eyes darting about to keep them from falling asleep.

If it wasn't the magnolia, then it was Mother Mary, and if it wasn't Mother Mary, then it was fucking magnolia.

Look down, and it's dishwater blue carpet. Look up, it's white grids and LED.

To the right, next to the door, the Star-Spangled polyester. To the left, freedom via window.

The room was quiet, aside from the ticking of the wall clock up beside the dozing sister's head, the buzzing of mosquitoes, and the rustling of the summer-lit trees outside.

Dana had her outstretched arms over the desk, picking at an old scab on her left knuckle. She had already named every single saint on the banner above the board, front and back, and if she had to read the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be posters for the tenth time again, she was going to explode.

She was going stir-crazy, like chewing through a leg caught in a trap crazy. The room was sticky, despite the air conditioning, and Dana looked at all her options, with the only one she felt lucky about being Option Window.

Sister Germaine sat behind the desk with a gossip mag in her hands, fighting the will to sleep and sorely losing. Her glasses were gently sliding down her moistened nose, and every so often, she would push them up and knock her head back.

Dana's phone sat on Sister Germaine's desk, and her hands itched as her eyes fell on it, then on the sister, then back to the phone again.

'Ugh, why am I even here, dude?'

The sister jumped out of her lull and rolled her eyes at her, turning a page of her magazine.

'It's, like, totally Draconian, Sister! C'mon!'

'Shut it, Molloy.'

'Ain't it a sure sign we're headed back to the Dark Ages if chomping on a piece of gum gets you booked?!'

'You know that's not the only reason you're here.'

'Okay? But am I like not allowed to use my voice or practise my First Amendment rights?'

'Keep talking, and it'll be another week, girl.'

The sister turned another page and looked up at Dana through her half-moon glasses. 'And that "right" only applies to government interference.'

Dana let out a loud sigh and sat back in her chair. If she picks at her scab any more, it'll start bleeding again. What was she even doing here? What kinda school monitors its students' social media anyway? She rolled the rosary beads under her fingers against the table, hard enough to leave marks.

Time ticked slowly, and, feeling deflated, she ran her hands through her short, curly shag, which was a frizzy mess thanks to New Orleans' hot, humid climate and her new school's strict rules against hair products.

No gel, no mousse, no hair dye, no unnatural colour hair extensions, no face piercings, no body piercings—one small earring per ear only—no tattoos, no makeup, no false lashes, no nail polish, no fragrance. No slip-on shoes, no clogs, no "Crocs", no sandals, no moccasins, no flip-flops, no open-toed or heeled shoes, no sneakers, no boots, no denim, no hoodies & no leather jackets.

She thought she'd enjoy prison more, but she'd been kicked out of her schools twice already back home, and it was either this or military school—which Dana saw as an empty threat since where exactly were her cheap ass good-for-nothing parents gonna get the money for the enrolment fee alone?

Dana chose to live with her father following her parents' inevitable divorce, while her mother and Lennon the Cat high-tailed it back to her native Brooklyn to "start over" with her new man, Ermanno. It wasn't so bad living with Chris in San Francisco, having left the metaphorically arid wasteland of Modesto, and she even began to feel settled in her, by then, third high school, until a new job called her father to the Deep South. Of all the places in the world, Chris decided to take a job in the equivalent of the Christian Fundamentalist State of Saudi Arabia?! Dana thought of it as a backward place full of buck-toothed, pea-brained, inbred tribalists who believe homophobia and racism were their God-given right bestowed to them by the Great Republican Mandate of Heaven. With an "Abortion is murder!" but "for you, not for my mistress!" and a "Oh, bless your heart" translation, "Kill yourself, you ugly, dissident bitch!" Hee-yuck-yuck-yuck! Dana kicked herself for not choosing Eryka in the end.

She didn't really see herself as that much of a delinquent, and every time she got in trouble, she believed it was most likely due to extenuating factors. She has pretty good grades, especially in English, which was one of the many prerequisites she had to meet when the Ursuline-run St Monica’s Roman Catholic School for Girls decided to admit her; she was an active member of her swim team back home and was politically involved in her community. She was just…a little different from everyone else. She dressed differently, talked differently (read: smart) and used obscure pop culture references no one knew or gave a shit about. She unironically listened to and enjoyed turn-of-the-century divorced dad rock; she liked to hang out with kids society deemed disreputable; she had a smart mouth that always got her into trouble; she ditched classes she didn't care much about, absolutely hated being told what to do and was an unashamed, loud & proud lesbian. It caused a lot of headaches back in Shackleford, but she really came into her own when they moved to Upper Haight. Until now. Now, it feels like she just took ten steps backwards.

The adjustment to New Orleans was not easy for the West Coast gamine. First of all, it was humid as fuck! Second of all, if you didn't like jazz, and Dana didn't, then there's fuck all to do. Last but most certainly not least, their "quaint little shotgun", as Chris likes to call it, was later found to have been the home to termites when Dana had been given a delightful welcome surprise as she opened the microwave and found some inside. And the blood in New Orleans must be made of the finer stuff, because the mosquitoes were tough as shit. Chris suggested that they'd get a cat from a rescue, but Dana just wanted out of there altogether.

Granted, she was still new to The Big Easy, but she was used to the kind of artistic vibrancy and diversity that San Francisco opened up to her. New Orleans was friendly enough, maybe…too friendly. Too laid-back. Too slow for Dana. And the lame time capsule of a school she's stuck in was wearing away her patience. She got two warnings already.

The first was for her piercings, which she refused to remove the first week she got there. She got detention every day until she removed every single one. Eventually, she acquiesced but replaced them with retainers. She hid her paragraph mark tattoo on her wrist with a bandage for athletics. Early sign that the school was gonna be a pain in her ass. Even the catholic school she previously attended back in California wasn't that strict, and she thought it was stupid to receive a warning! And that was the second warning—questioning the first one.

Now she was stuck in a week-long detention for an "unsavoury tweet" about the school's administration, which they, somehow, caught wind of. They forced her to take her account down (which she promptly reactivated), and it was either detention or an actual suspension, the latter of which Dana could not afford right now. She just had two more years of this bullshit. Just needed to keep her grades up and pray she gets into Berkeley and away from this swamp.

God, why another catholic school? Her family were just barely Catholic themselves, and if it weren't for her Nani, she wouldn't have even done her confirmation if it were left up to her parents. "It's the only place that'll keep you in line", they said. That, and they believed the education was apparently better compared to the secular co-eds. But Dana was used to co-eds. This was her first all-girl experience. And…it for sure wasn't St Trinian's.

Just another hour and a half to go, and Dana was free. A tiger fly waltzed in from somewhere, and Dana watched entranced as it buzzed around the sister's drooping head. Sister Germaine was on her way to the Land of Dreams until a soft knock on the door caught her attention, to Dana's mild chagrin. The door opened, and Dana thought she was about to have a stroke.

'Good afternoon, Sister.'

Sister Germaine sat up and had to adjust her glasses to check whether she was actually seeing what she was seeing.

'Oh, Miss Romano! How may I help you, dear?'

'I'm here to serve my detention, Sister. May I take a seat?'

The sister looked down at her sheet, and from her dumbstruck reaction, Dana reckoned she found her name. She sat up straight and tried to look disappointed, but it came across as more confused than anything, and she nodded for her to come in. The girl faintly smiled as she walked toward the middle desks, and that's when her cognac-brown eyes met Dana's hazel-grey.

Even from far back as she was, the girl was absolutely striking. Like Italian giallo bombshell gorgeous. Like Zeudi Araya, Laura Gemser gorgeous. Or she could be if she wasn't so…girlishly perfect. Maybe not a Laura Gemser but rather more like a Pier Angeli. Her eyes were huge and practically glowed gold in the sunlight, framed by her long, dark lashes. She was unbelievably tall—unbelievably, because she seemed the type who should've been born short; she was made like Audrey Hepburn, Dana likened. Her uniform, which they all had to wear, that Dana found atrociously ugly and had obviously not been updated since 1936, was neat and pressed, and the skirt hit perfectly below the knee, above white knee-highs. Her white blouse was pristine, no sweat marks at all, and she wore those minimising bras to flatten her chest so that the square yoke sat flush, which only seemed to make her look younger.

Dana tried to convince herself she looked like a lemur; that way she'd feel better in a sense instead of feeling embarrassingly nervous whenever she looked at her. But that only served to make her look even cuter in her own mind. She moved like a dancer, gently pulling the chair out, flattening the bottom of her dark navy pinafore with her hand, before elegantly lowering herself into her seat with a completely straight back.

Romano had long black hair that she kept in a low, looped, braided ponytail that reached her waist, which meant her hair was even longer, although Dana had never seen it undone. It was always perfectly slicked back, pin-tucked, and not a hair out of place, fastened by a barrette or, at other times, a ribbon.

Dana never thought she could be so enchanted by someone, by anyone, as she was by Romano. Her skin was ethereally deep olive brown, completely even and shone like lacquer. She had an elegantly long neck, delicate features that were small and close-together, a narrow chin, and a short but full, dainty mouth. Besides her round, doll-like eyes, her best feature was her nose. It was slender with a high bridge and only slightly hooked on her right side. It gave her petite diamond-shaped face a distinct, regal look.

What was the self-possessed honour student, three-time Science Olympiad winner, State Fencing champion, Regional Scholastic Art finalist, and President of the Student Body Council for St Monica’s Roman Catholic School for Girls, Miss Armande Romano, doing in detention?!

It was a mystery, and Dana Molloy can't stand a mystery.

She ran her hand through her curls and watched as Sister Germaine started to nod off before she made her move. She got up and slinked over to the seat next to Romano. The girl didn't move, and at first, Dana thought she had earphones in, which would've been even more scandalous for the girl nicknamed "Goody Romano" in certain circles, but on closer inspection, they were actually those noise-cancelling earbuds you wear to sleep. She had a red book in her hand, and Dana rolled her eyes when she realised it was a copy of Augustine's Confessions, the text they had to read for Latin class, which was oddly compulsory in this school.

'Hey.'

No answer. The earbuds can't be that good, Dana thought.

'Hey.'

She still didn't move, merely turning to the next page of her book.

'Okay, rude. I know you can hear me.'

Romano suddenly lifted her head, took a bud out of her ear and turned to face Dana. She looked her up and down without moving her head, then gave a little "hmm".

'Is there something I can help you with?'

What accent was that? It was slightly European or even strangely transatlantic, but not quite. Dana couldn't place it, but she was happy that Romano had finally acknowledged her because Dana was grinning ear-to-ear.

'Yeah. I've got a question.'

Romano nodded.

'What is the famous Miss Armande Amedea Aruna Romano Ghoshal doing in detention?'

Romano looked exhausted by the question already.

'Miss Molloy, this hour is a time for self-reflection. Please use it wisely and do not disturb others, as one would hope not to do to you.'

She turned away without putting the earbud back in her ear, but placed it on the table, and went back to reading.

'So, you know who I am?'

Armande didn't lift her head. 'Yes, I know who you are, Miss Dana Luz Alidz Molloy.'

Dana got a chill when she said her full name. It sounded kinda sexy in her accent.

There wasn't a lot that Dana knew about Miss Armande Romano. Or rather, a lot that she was truly interested in knowing. She knew that Romano was an adoptee of a high-ranking diplomat and art collector socialite, crazy rich and crazy smart, scoring an impressively exact 850 for the LEAP. She vacations with her family at their restored Roman villa in Italy, lives in a grand town mansion in the Garden District, and has an equally brainy older brother who attends their version's wario catholic boys school a few blocks down. She's a member of the Art Club, Drama Club, Science Club and Literature Club. She quit fencing to join the volleyball team. She seems to have a lot of admirers but few friends, which primarily seem to be Louise de Pointe Du Lac, Fareeda Bhansali, Samantha Barclay, Frances St James and a senior called Maria Romano (apparently a cousin). Okay, so maybe Dana knew a lot more than she cared to admit, but nothing really substantial.

She looked over to Sister Germaine, who was long gone and shuffled a little closer. Dana peered over Romano's shoulder at the passage she was reading.

'Is that the part when he snags some fruit and wastes pages sobbing about it?'

'I'd prefer if you would return to your seat, please. At the back of the room.'

Dana scoffed and moved a little. What's her deal? It seemed like all of the girls at this school were prissy and stuck up, playing up that Southern Belle bullshit all the time. If it weren't for Louise keeping her on the straight and narrow, Dana would've been kicked out as soon as she arrived. Outta habit, she combed her fingers through her hair again, interlacing them in her ringlets. She could hear her mother's voice in her head.

"Listen, Dana, you ain't exactly a stunner, but at least you've got beautiful eyes, alright?"

Dana was not exactly sure why that came to mind. Perhaps she was feeling a little insecure, which wasn't hard when you're in the room with a living goddess.

Dana wore her hair short, and along with her piercings, got her some looks when she first arrived in Louisiana. She was going for a Roberta Colindrez or like a masc Alia Shawkat sorta vibe. Eryka said she looks like a beardless Oscar Isaac, which is why everyone she's come across thinks she's a dude. Jokes on her because that was a compliment of the highest order—Oscar Isaac would be so hot as a woman.

Dana Molloy wasn't dainty or small or ladylike. Everything was big (ego included). She had big, downturned hazel-grey eyes that gave her a constant bored expression, set under massive straight caterpillar brows that met together like a fan of blades, of which Eryka constantly hounded her to tweeze or wax off. She had a tousle of thick, dark curly hair that grew wild when she used to have it long back in 6th grade. She was a hairy girl, a most sacred blessing from Mother Armenia, with hairy arms, legs, neck, back, sideburns and a slight mush. Her nose was big, her lips were plump, and she was decently tall. At least her face was round and rather small with a soft jawline, which Eryka says is a good thing, and rather flat-chested and slim with a natural build. Dana liked how she looked. She was butch and was proud of it.

Yet, it was hard not to feel othered in St. Monica despite being in New Orleans, supposedly the liberal heart of a rather conservative state. St. Monica had a certain type of girl that was revered, and Dana was definitely not it.

The St. Monica girl has perfect hair that withstands humidity, a "natural", carefree look that's both effortless yet curated, polished but not overdone, and stands out without deviating from the Southern Belle paradigm of femininity. Minimum requirements: at least be tall, tan and blonde.

They see her name and, for some reason, expect some freckle-faced, snub-nosed redhead, and instead got something even more undesirable. Dana can see it in their mind, looking at the colour chart à la Family Guy and deciding whether she belongs in the "Whites Only or Colored" section. They don't say it outright, but she can feel it. It was amusing at first. Dana arrogantly felt a little pride in arousing a sneer from her WASP sistren (or whatever the catholic version was), but it got old really fast. She never experienced anything like it back in California. Sure, Dana understood the irony of not necessarily feeling othered in the state known to have created the Hollywood It Girl. But where she was from, most of them looked vaguely spicy white, and the punishing white girl cult of Hailey Bieber was reserved for the more affluent and aspirant, but St. Monica really had her humorously start the question, "Am I really white?"

Not like her Wonder Bread Irish-American father could relate when she'd spend hours debating it with him. And her mother has subtly and not so subtly suggested that if she were just to "fix" her nose, get laser hair removal and a straight perm, her life would be a hell of a lot easier. Dana was aware, however, that St. Monica was previously a private boarding and day school, which was only truly desegregated in 1976. A pernicious culture as old as her parents would be hard to shake. She wondered how Armande dealt with it, being as dark as she was and with an exotic name like that. Does money and privilege shield you from all of it? Louise says not as much as one'd think.

Dana shifted in her seat, then tugged at her collar, twirled a few of her curls and then bounced her knee until she couldn't continue to not say anything at all. She had been stuck in a room with a woman who snored like a vacuum and painted walls that they must've got at the same shop as the mental hospital. She was jonesing for a stimulant, and what better kind of upper than to annoy miss golden brown, texture like sun.

'So, what're you in for? Cursive illegible? Margin too crooked? Had nothing to spill at Confession? Or—'

'Miss Molloy…'

'Dana is fine.'

'Miss Molloy, wouldn't you think a non-response is a response in itself?'

'Well, I would call it evasion.'

Armande remained silent and scribbled down some notes on her notepad that Dana only now noticed was in front of her. She had a charming profile, like a little tit bird. Chickadee, chickadee, Fly through my window. Dana could see the subtle shadow that her cheekbones cast and the roundness of her cherubic chin. Dana wanted to know her—every last bit.

'C'mon, Ella Enchanted! What'd you do?'

Armande cast a quizzical look at Dana, and the latter smirked.

'Ella Enchanted? The Anne Hathaway movie?'

'I haven't seen it.'

'You haven't? Wow…that's a bummer, I think you'd vibe with it.'

'Why is that?'

'It's about a girl who gets a gift from her fairy godmother to obey every command she is given.'

Armande tilted her pretty head slightly, musing on it a while, and the grin on Dana's face felt devouring.

'Why would you think I'd relate to a fictional character?'

'I don't know…maybe "my mission is to serve all students, the school and God, and to do what is asked of me, unfailingly" might've sounded a little familiar to me.'

'Amazing how you can quote my opening assembly speech word-for-word.'

'What can I say, I have a memory for stuff like this.'

Armande didn't laugh or even smile, but in her eyes, like warm honey, there was something. Something Dana couldn't quite make out. Armande turned away to look over to Sister Germaine, although Dana didn't think she needed to because they both unfortunately could hear that she was still asleep. The clock had passed its hour, and Dana had only 30 minutes to go. She wasn't going to let this fish out of her net.

'Why'd you join the volleyball team?'

'You scored at the 90th percentile on the HSPT at your former school and scored at a Level 4 on the CAASPP.'

'Umm…okay? Weird that you know that. And you're dodging my question.'

'I'm simply curious. As you are…curious.'

'And what's the question?'

'Why do you continue to put it all in jeopardy?'

Dana scoffed and almost laughed out loud, but she didn't want to wake up Sister Bissell.

'An answer for an answer first.'

'Okay. I joined because I like the sport.'

'But you're a fencing champ? Isn't that like a far more suitable sport for someone as intelligent and strategic as yourself?'

Armande tilted her head again, which Dana initially took for confusion but now realised she was analysing her. What a fun game.

'I've given you an answer; will you fulfil your end and answer mine?'

'What was it again?'

'Why are you drawn to ruin?'

Dana muffled her cackle with her arm. Armande continued to watch her like an owl who watches the bush for mice.

'Ah, you're hella weird, man. Sure, suppose I like the risk. Teetering so close to the razor's edge. Gets the blood pumpin' and the mind turnin', feel me? What's the point to life if not to have fun? Fun—do you know what that is?'

This time Armande scoffed. It was the cutest damn sound Dana had ever heard.

'Of course, Miss Molloy.'

'Call me Dana.'

She smiled at her. And if looks could kill, then Dana would be bloodied and chopped on the side of the road after bearing witness to such a smile.

'I like to keep to formal address, if you don't mind?'

'No, I mind. I don't do all that Miss bullshit.'

'It's simply a sign of respect.' Her tone felt a bit hard there.

'Uh-huh. So what got you the detention, "Miss" Romano?'

'You want to know so badly?'

'Yeah, I do wanna know. "So badly".'

Armande smiled again. Fly through my window. My sugar lump. And find molasses candy.

'An answer for an answer?'

'Sure.'

'I'll tell you why I was given detention, and you tell me why you were suspended from your last school.'

'I'm sure you already know the 411 on that, Miss President.'

'I want to hear it from you.'

There was something warm there, in her voice. Brandy warm and rich in the ear. Dana thought about it a little. She looked at the clock, which read only 5 minutes left, and she looked at the sister, still snoring loud enough to rival the horns at the docks. She ran her fingers through her hair and shook her curls.

'Okay, sure, whatever, dude. I got busted with a little dime bag.'

'Who gave i—'

'Uh-uh! I gave you an answer; now it's time to "fulfil your end".'

Armande smiled again, and Dana fell. She closed her book and put it back in her bag, along with her notepad and pen.

'Sister Germaine?'

The sister shot up and choked a little mid-snore.

'I believe our time is up.'

'Hey?!'

Dana watched as Armande got up and walked towards the nun. Sister Germaine nodded and adjusted the headband of her coif.

'Be sure not to find yourself here again, Miss Romano.' She looked over to Dana, 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Sister Germaine held up her phone, and Dana sulked towards her to take it. She ran out of the classroom to catch up with Armande and grabbed her by the arm. She felt light as a feather.

'Not very good-natured to walk out without answering my question, is it?'

'Our detention was over.'

'Technically we still had five minutes left. And, like so?'

'And you still want to know?'

'Who even are you, David Lynch? Duh, just tell me.'

Armande looked her up and down with her eyes like a robot scanning for intel. It was kinda creepy how much Dana liked it when she did that.

'Very well. The reason I got detention today was that I had exceeded my warnings.'

'Yeah, for?'

'For unauthorised tutoring of younger students.'

'Shut the fuck up!'

Armande was taken aback and frowned. 'What?'

'Like, you're kidding, right?'

'Why would I make a joke like that? It wouldn't even be remotely funny either.'

'God, you're serious?'

'You seem very easily shocked, Miss Molloy.'

'This fucking school! Who gives a detention to someone helping out kids?'

'It was unauthor—'

'Who gives a shit?!'

Armande straightened up. She looked past Dana's shoulder as if in her own thoughts, and Dana still couldn't believe how beautiful she was. She wasn't exactly attracted to femmes, but by God could Romano convert her. Armande looked at her again and nodded.

'I suppose it was a bit harsh.'

Dana was going to go on but felt too trapped by Armande's beauty and humility to care.

'You should take yourself more seriously. You're very smart. I would hate to see you leave here.'

Now Dana was the one taken aback.

'You'd "hate" to see me leave?'

'Take care, Miss Molloy.'

Armande walked off. Gentle steps, barely making a sound. Into the summer light out the doors.

Dana just stood there in the hallway. New Orleans was a lot of things, but Dana never thought it could be the place she would finally get her shit together.

Miss Armande Romano said she'd "hate" to see her go.

Well, Dana supposes she'd have to keep her happy then.

- la suite au prochain numéro -

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