literature

The Darkest December:Chapter 4 (JackFrostxReader)

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  It is cold and empty in the halls of Burgess High School. A few random lockers are left unlatched, their contents spilling out lazily onto the dirt-caked floor. Hand-painted signs advertising year books and dances are carelessly taped to every corner. Within the walls of the classrooms there are large quantities of teenagers, fatigued and desperate to escape the educational prison. On the upper level, in the easternmost wing of the building, is where you are. Ms Hart's classroom. 7th period. Trigonometry.

   She is standing there in front of the classroom, scribbling a triangle onto the blackboard with a crumbling piece of vanilla chalk. Deep purple veins protrude from her pale, wrinkled hands. She has a single piece of jewelry - a brooch in the shape of an apple - which clings to her chest at all times. It is, or rather was, painted gold. It has gone through as much wear and tear as its owner, now donning a mildew green color with specks of corroded gold glinting towards the center. Her clothes are outdated by at least a few decades. She is dressed in a rumpled amber sweater, most likely knitted by herself. A brown plaid skirt constricts her narrow waist and extends to graze the laces of her bulky clogs. She turns to the class, a million pop questions whizzing through her mind.

   "What are the values of the missing angles on the triangle I just drew?" she demands. Her eyes squint through the lenses of her glasses and scan the room for any defenseless victims. She spots a lanky boy slouching in his chair, drooling in a dreamy trance. "Logan!"

   The boy jolts in his chair and gawks at the teacher with wide eyes. "What?" he slurs, stretching his arms.

   Ms Hart pinches her chapped lips together, looking more like the Grinch than a person. "Mr. Prior, I suggest you wipe the drool off of your chin and pay attention." She hands him a slip of paper. "You'll have plenty of time for shuteye in detention this afternoon." Logan groans and shoves the paper into his pocket.

   She marches back to the blackboard and points to the triangle. "Can anybody tell me the answer to the problem?"

   "You made it up. You should know it," sasses a bold girl in the second row. The girl, Scarlet, has her legs crossed and her leather boots shoved against the head of another sleeping student.

   "Excuse me?!"

   "You heard me, witch."
   
   Ms Hart stomps over to the teen's desk, thin slip in hand. "Miss Davis, this is your third detention this week. One more and I will be making a phone call to your parents."

   Her eyes roll as she clips the paper between two fingers and twirls it around. "Pfft, like it'd matter to them."

   "What did you say, Miss Davis?" She glares at the rebellious adolescent.

   Scarlet puts on an exaggerated smile, making her snakebites stand on edge with her suddenly spirited voice. "Oh, nothing, Ms Hart." Her grin, if at all possible, widens and she bats her eyes at a mile a minute until the teacher turns away. She proceeds to make a rather rude gesture with her hand, quickly covering up her act by running her fingers through her jet black hair.

   Ms Hart now addresses the class, teeth clenched together. "You children have a desperate need to become more mature. I have never seen a group of young ladies and gentlemen with such a lack of respect. Because you are unable to give me your attention, I am taking away your free time. Problems 1-50 on page 394 must be completed by tomorrow, no exceptions. I expect to see all of your work done on the paper. Failure to complete this assignment will result in a detention."

   "Eh, what's one more detention gonna do?"

   "Miss Davis! I am call-"

   DIINNGGG!

   "Sorry, Ms Hart. School's over. Can't be late for my detention!" She hops out of the room with a smirk, waving her paper slip like a victory flag.

   You gather your notebook and calculator in your (favorite color) backpack and head down the stairs and out the main doors. The schoolyard is obscured with scattered leaves, each one long dead and ready to move on with the seasons. Autumn's crisp wind still lingers, but it is cut short by an early winter gale. Clusters of students stand socializing on the lawn. One boy is sitting on the concrete stair rail reading a book about Bigfoot. Yes, even at this age, he still is fascinated by myths and legends.

   The boy is Jamie Bennett, and he is your best friend.

   It all started 6 years ago. You had just moved to Burgess from (your hometown). You were the dreaded "new girl", destined for shame and humiliation. You entered school on the very first day, shy and alone. Your mother had put your (hair color) hair in braided pigtails just for the occasion. After all, it wasn't every day you moved to a totally different school.

   The embarrassment began with your very first steps into the hallway. The principal was escorting you to class, pointing out everything as though you were a toddler. "This is the cafeteria, where we eat our lunch every day." "Oh, there's the girl's restroom, sweetie, right next to the boy's restroom. You know which one to use, right?" All you could do was nod and tell yourself that it would be over soon.

   When you finally reached your classroom, she brought you to the front of the class. "This is (your name), and she is going to be joining your class. Isn't that exciting, boys and girls?" The crowd of 5th graders just stared, some faces more blank than others. The principal shook her head. "Well, Mr. Caligo, I'll let you take it from here." And with that, she left.

   Mr. Caligo, oh, how you hated that man. If there was a prize for making students feel the least welcome, he'd win it hands down. As soon as the principal was gone, he stood up from his squeaky desk chair and directed you to the seat in the very front of the class. "Miss (your last name), you will be sitting here for the remainder of the year. I expect you to behave and answer questions promptly when I ask them. Take your seat." You took a step forward, oblivious to the foot blocking your path. You fell flat on your face and, naturally, the room erupted in laughter.

   "Silence!" he yelled. Immediately the laughter stopped and each child froze, awaiting their next order. "To your seat, Miss (your last name)." Hastily you scrambled to your feet and sat down at your desk. "Now then, last have a little pop quiz, shall we? What is the difference between reflection and refraction? Miss (your last name)."

   "W-what?" you croaked, clearly unprepared for a test.

   Mr. Caligo raised his chin. "I will repeat the question. What is the difference between reflection and refraction?"

   "Umm, I'm not sure," you shrugged.

   He lifted his eyebrows and cleared his throat. "I see. Can you answer me this: what is the product of 6 and 8?"

   "Ehh.." Slowly, you sank in your seat.

   "Hmm." He folded his arms behind his back and began pacing around your desk. "I will give you one more chance, Miss (your last name)." His eyes shot daggers as he scoured his mind for difficult problems to asses his newest pupil. "Ah. Who was the president of the Confederate States during the U.S. Civil War?"

   Your throat became dry and you weakly confessed, "I don't know."

   Mr. Caligo chewed his lip and marched back to his desk. "Well, since there is a student who is behind in her education, we will have review for the next few days until she is caught up." The class groaned until the teacher gave an angry stare. "Don't blame me. It is my job to make sure that you all know everything you are supposed to know. I must make sure that our...less intelligent student learns what she is supposed to learn, not just 'I don't know' and 'I'm not sure'." His cold stare and harsh criticism stayed with you until lunchtime, where new terrors anticipated your arrival.

   Your classmates pushed you to the back of the line right away, so your much-awaited mystery meat was more stale than three-week-old bread and just as appetizing. Every seat in the cafeteria was taken except for one lonely chair at the table by the garbage can. Seeing as you had no other choice, you picked up your tray and headed over. After a few minutes of picking at your "food" and cringing your nose in disgust, the table behind you started giggling.

   "I don't know anything, sir. I'm just a stupid little baby who's going to make everyone fall behind."

   You knew who they were mocking.

   "Poor little me. I don't even know what 2 plus 2 is."

   It was you.

   "I don't even know what state I'm in. I'm too dumb to know anything."

   And you did not find it humorous.

   The chuckles got louder as they started to throw peas in your pigtails. You just sat there, squeezing your spork and willing yourself not to cry. "What a dumb baby I am. I'm too stupid to notice what's going on around me. Why, I bet I wouldn't even realize if milk was being poured on my head." Your stinging eyes quickly widened as you realized what they were about to do, but it was too late. A kid was already spilling a jug of milk onto your hair. The cold liquid flowed down your face and onto your clothes. Instantly, tears rolled down your cheeks and you hopped up from your chair. Another kid saw his moment of opportunity and stretched out his leg to trip you. The cafeteria burst into laughter as you fled to the girl's restroom.

   You looked in the mirror and saw a girl with hot cheeks and eyes outlined in red. There was a stutter in her breath from the fresh tears. Carefully, you undid your braids and washed out the milk from your hair and clothes. There was no way you could face those kids again, not like this. You leaned against a stall and cried until you couldn't get out any more tears. Eventually, you shuffled out of the restroom and found a boy waiting outside the door.

   "Hi. My name's Jamie. I'm in your class." You gave a gentle wave and a heartbroken frown. "Look, I saw what those kids did to you, and it wasn't nice at all. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry for it; for what happened to you today." He smiled lightly, offering his hand.

   You looked to his outstretched hand and back to his warm smile. Cautiously, you place your palm in his. "Thank you."

   From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. He introduced you to his friends - Pippa, Cupcake, Caleb, Claude, and Monty - and they gladly welcomed you into their group. The bullying soon stopped, and you were gradually accepted as a regular student.




   You tiptoe down the concrete stairs, weaving yourself between seniors and underclassmen. You scope out Jamie, his red and blue jacket tossed lazily onto the ground with his backpack. He sits cross-legged on top of the gritty stair rail. His mind is lost in a paperback world of legendary creatures, much to your advantage. You creep past gaggles of freshmen girls on their phones and reach the railing. You slide against it and work your way down, humming the James Bond theme song and stepping in time to perfect your mission. Of course, you don't forget to add in some dramatic spy poses on each step. After all, the rest of the world is too busy texting their exes or fixing their makeup. Why not have a little fun?

   You climb onto the rail and crawl over to your unsuspecting friend. You cup your hands around your mouth and lean in close to his ear, taking a deep but silent breath. 3, 2, 1. "GGRRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRRLLL!!!

   "Gah!" Jamie pivots and loses his balance, crash landing on his backpack with his book not far behind. He rubs his temple while you nearly fall off yourself from the fit of laughter you're experiencing. "That was not funny, (your name)!"

   "Yeah, it was!" you snicker.

   Jamie giggles and shakes his head. "Alright, I guess it was."

   You leap off the rail and reach out your hand to help him up. "Still trying to find Bigfoot?"

   "You bet!"

   Your eyes roll upwards and you let out a slight chuckle.

   "I know you don't believe me, (your name), but trust me, he's out there. I just know it." He bends down to gather his backpack and book, wrapping his jacket around his waist and tying the sleeves at his stomach. "If you'd actually take some interest in it, you'd see that I'm not crazy."

   "I don't know..." you tease.

   He rolls his eyes back at you and you give him a playful punch on his sturdy arm. "Come on. We need to go home."

   A brisk gust of wind nudges both of you down the pale sidewalk. It carries fragmented leaves, zigzagging past skateboards and school buses. The sun is turning gold, implying shorter days to come. You skip over the cracks on the pavement as though you were a young child again.
   
   "You seem awfully happy."

   "Is that such a crime?"

   "No. I'm just not used to seeing you jump around like a 3-year-old."

   You smile. "Well, maybe I'm just in a good mood today."

   Jamie stares ahead. "Hey, are you free tonight?"

   Your feet stop walking and you look towards your best friend. "W-what?"

   "I asked if you had any plans."

   "Umm, why?"

   He looks at you like the answer is obvious, then, seeing your eyebrows knotted in confusion, he explains. "Remember how I told you how I was working up the courage to ask a certain girl out?"

   "Yeah..." This isn't looking good for you. You and Jamie are friends. That's it. Nothing more, whatsoever.

   "And how I wouldn't tell you who because I knew you'd run to them and tell them?"

   "Uh huh..." No, you think. Don't do it, Jamie Bennett. Don't ruin this friendship. Stop it, right now.

   "Well," he sighs, "I asked out Pippa today."

   You blink a few times. "You what?"

   "I asked out Pippa. She's the girl that I like."

   You mentally wipe the nonexistent sweat from your forehead. "Really? You like Pippa?!"

   Jamie's cheeks get rosy. "Yeah."

   "Oh my gosh! What did she say?" you squeal, jumping around him impatiently.

   "She said yes."

   "Jamie, that's so wonderful! And you're going out tonight?"

   "Yup. But I have a problem. I'm supposed to be watching Sophie tonight while my mom's at a meeting."

   "Say no more, I'll watch her for you."

   "Really?" He leans in and gives you a half-hug. "Thanks, (your name). You're the best!"

   You readjust your backpack and start walking again. "Anytime."

   You spend the next few minutes conversing about his plans - where they were going, what they were doing, food, transportation, everything. Who could blame you for being curious? This is your best friend's first date, after all. After numerous questions and several sarcastic "Really" 's from Jamie, you reach your house.

   "I'll tell my mom that you'll be there at 6," he calls, strolling down the sidewalk to go home. "See you then!"

   You put a hand up to your mouth. "Just make sure you have everything ready for your date. I don't want to have to run through a checklist when I get there!" He smiles and walks off, leaving you at the door to your house. You slip your hand in your jeans pocket and pull out the key, turning it in the lock and pushing the door open. There is a bowl of (favorite fruit) on the counter. You casually grab one and plop yourself down on the couch. Your hand snatches the remote, prepped for its daily dosage of channel surfing, when something crosses your mind. Aw, man. I have Trigonometry homework.
Sorry it took me a month to update...again. You all probably hate me. Oh well. When you have 3 straight weeks with a rehearsal/concert on every night, then you'll understand what I've been through.

I've finally started writing it in the typical "reader insert" style. Go fanfiction!

Chapter 1: fav.me/d6nxtwr
Chapter 3: fav.me/d6vy54s
Chapter 5: fav.me/d78a3so

Leila Revanche: fav.me/d6khr4f 

Rise of the Guardians and all things related are © Dreamworks
Leila Revanche is © me
The Darkest December is © me
© 2014 - 2024 HermioneFrost
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