Damsel (Z Berg/Ryan Ross, co-written with softlyforgotten)
softlyforgotten and I spent almost all of last Sunday talking and writing about these girls (and boy). This is one of the results.
Bandom (The Like/The Young Veins) | Z/Ryan | 4,100 words | PG-13
Summary: High school AU. Z's maybe not the carefullest of girls.
Warning: Real Person Fiction
Disclaimer: Neither of us know any of the people in this story. This is fiction, written for fun and with affection.
Damsel
by softlyforgotten & cest-what
All of Z's friends were assholes. She wasn't sure how she'd never noticed before.
"Oh my god, not funny," she hissed. "Get me fucking out of here, guys."
Tennessee was gasping with laughter over the line. Z could actually see her and Laena crammed into the phone booth just outside the school, a splash of yellow sundress and Laena's dark hair. Reni was outside the booth, leaning against the glass, her bright red fringe covering her eyes. She lifted her hand in a little wave. Z growled.
Tennessee broke into giggles all over again. "We are," she managed, "we are absolutely going to get you out of there." Laena was humming the Charlie's Angels theme in the background now, and Tennessee started snorting with laughter. Then there was a clatter in Z's ear and the laughter went distant, and Z didn't have to be able to see them to know that Tenn had let the phone fall from nerveless fingers while she slumped giggling against the glass.
Z lowered her cell phone, looking around. She crept a little closer to the edge of the roof and leaned over the barrier. There was no fire escape on this side of the building. There weren't even any window sills you could shin down, if you were, you know, desperate and also insane. She bit her lip and turned to look around the rest of the roof.
The roof trap door was only unlocked on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when the debating club was allowed to practise up here, under supervision. But there was a forty minute window at the end of the day when you could hang out up here and smoke without getting caught, before the security door locked down at 5.30. They were always careful to be out before then, but Z had had to come back for her phone, which -
Z loved her phone, she really did, but it wasn't worth being trapped on the school roof overnight for. Also, as a tool for getting help it was apparently useless, because her friends thought her misfortune was the most hilarious thing that had ever happened to them.
Z blew them a kiss, then flipped them off. Tennessee had come out of the phone booth to lean on Reni. Z could see her making tragic wide eyes, her chin on Reni's shoulder.
"Shit," someone said from behind Z. She spun around, phone clutched in her hand.
A gangly boy was sitting on top of the partition between this flat roof and the peak of the next wing, frozen in the act of climbing over. His eyes were wide, fixed on Z.
Z took a second to take in the newsboy cap, the tangled scarf, the stovepipe trousers, before she placed him. The weird Ross kid; the one who hung out with Jon Walker and Pete Wentz and their crowd, and sometimes painted black birds on his cheek.
He was staring at Z as if she was something horrifying.
"Z?" Z could hear Laena tinnily through the phone. "We've found the security guard's number. Do you want us to call him?"
Z lifted the phone. "Hold on a sec," she said, her eyes fixed on Ross. (Ryan, she thought, Ryan Ross.) "I might... just hold on."
"I'll just -" Ryan Ross was making twitchy movements back the way he'd come. "I don't want to -"
"What?" Z said. "No, hey! Don't go away. Are you -" She looked around, helpless. "Do you know how to get down?"
He stared at her for a second longer. Then his face changed, his expression awed. He gave her a crooked smile, something shy and pleased in it that Z, suddenly, didn't know what to do with. "Wait," he said. "Are you saying - do you need help?"
"Um," Z said. "Um. Yes?"
He slithered the rest of the way down the roof, an ungraceful tangle of limbs.
"Okay," he said. He wasn't meeting her eyes now. "I have, uh. I have a key. To the trap door."
"Oh shit, I love you," Z said.
He looked at her properly then, a warm look, rolling his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I bet."
Z lifted the phone to her ear again. "Definitely do not call security," she said. "I met -" She turned back to Ryan. "Wait, why do you have a key?"
He was fumbling through the key ring he'd pulled out of his school bag. It had, Z noticed , a fuckton of keys on it.
"I was an office aide last year," he muttered. He ducked his chin. "I stole it and got it copied so I could come up here out of hours."
Z bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Um, never mind, I'll tell you later," she said to Laena's questions.
Ryan finally found the right key and dropped to his knees, struggling with the lock for a second. He got it open and got back to his feet. "After you."
His smile was crooked and warm again. Z swallowed.
"You're Ryan Ross, right?" she said, one foot on the top step. "I'm Z."
"I know," Ryan said. He ducked his head again, and this time there was a faint red tinge on his cheeks.
*
"Henderson's going to kill you," Tennessee said when Z got in the car, and Z made a face.
"He is not," she said. "I like this shirt."
"Sure you do," Tennessee said, grinning at her and twisting the car out onto the road. "That's not going to stop him from killing you."
"Henderson is an old-fashioned asshole," Z grumbled, slumping down in her seat and folding her arms. "It's not like I'm wearing booty shorts with Take Me Now printed across my ass or anything. Why are bellybuttons so offensive?"
Tennessee blinked at her. "Because Henderson is an old-fashioned asshole?" she suggested, and Z groaned and tugged uselessly at her shirt. Anyway, she thought, this was a good thing, she was making a stand, and also Reni might have a sweater she could borrow. She could make a secret stand, which would have much the same effect, minus a trip to the principal's office.
Neither Reni or Laena had a sweater when they got to school, so Z employed the tactic of hiding in the group of them and scurrying from class to class as quickly as possible. She was actually doing pretty well, she thought - she made it through English, Trig and French, and it wasn't until she was on her way to Study Hall that the dreaded voice sounded.
"Miss Berg?" Henderson said.
Z stood very still with a sinking feeling. She should have picked history too, and then she would be safe with Laena, not caught alone with The Asshole in the corridor.
She turned around and smiled brightly. "Yes, Mr Henderson?" she said, putting on the cheery tone that Reni said made her sound like she was five.
"Miss Berg, I am sure you are aware of school policy regarding appropriate dress," Henderson said, coming down the hallway towards her. Seriously, Z thought, biting back a snarl, who spoke like that? Miss Berg, what the actual fuck. Henderson gave her a venomous look. "As a senior, you are expected to be an example to younger years. Midriff-baring shirts cannot be considered suitable."
"I'm sorry, sir," Z said, schooling her face into an expression of regret. "I just forgot. Pretty much everything else I have is in the wash."
"Be that as it may," Henderson said. Oh my God, Z thought, I will punch you in the face. "I think it best to send you to the principal's office. Off you go, Miss Berg, and tell them why you are there."
"Yes, sir," Z said, turning on her heel and slouching away. What a waste of a study period, she thought glumly; she had a whole set of lyrics to work on and a good book on the go, but no, Henderson was busy making everyone's life a misery. Teachers should have to get psych tests, she decided, bag bumping into her knees, with an automatic exclusion for anyone who fit in the 'vindictive bastard' category.
"Henderson sent me," she told Mrs Denkins at the office, who gave her a sympathetic look.
"Have a seat, dear," she said. "I'll send you in in a minute."
Z sat down, tilting her head back to scowl at the ceiling. Midriff tops, she thought, preparing her speech in her head, were a perfectly valid fashion choice. The school was trying to stifle her individuality. She sent that off in quotation marks with a question mark to Tennessee and got a prompt response of haha sucker.
Z glared at the screen. i was so supportive that day you came to school barefoot, she sent back, and shoved her phone back in her pocket with a little more force than necessary.
"Wow," someone said. "What did that phone ever do to you?"
Z looked up, and raised her eyebrows. Ryan was standing in front of her, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth awkwardly. He gave her a small smile and said, "Hi, again."
"Hey," Z said. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan made a vague gesture. "Running an errand for Mr Lewis," he said, and Z nodded. "What about you?" he asked. "You get trapped on a roof again?"
"No," Z said, rolling her eyes. "Henderson didn't like my outfit."
Ryan twisted his mouth down in a grimace, and Z bit back laughter. "He's a jerk," Ryan said. "He banned me from wearing my favourite vest."
"Why?"
Ryan shrugged. "He didn't like the roses. He made up some dumb thing about the velvet catching on shit, but I bet if I was a girl he wouldn't have minded."
Z blinked at him. "Your vest has velvet roses on it?" she said. "Where did you find that?"
"Oh, I sewed the roses on," Ryan said, like it was obvious. Z waited, but he didn't say anything else, just made an awkward sort of face at her, mouth twisting into an O.
"In you go, Elizabeth," Mrs Denkins said, and Z stood up.
"I'll see you around," she said. "Gotta go be called an evil hussy for daring to show my stomach."
"I think you look nice," Ryan said. Then he turned hastily to leave. He tripped over three different things on his way out. Z watched, bemused, as he hunched up his shoulders and darted down the hall without looking back. When she turned to go into the office, she was smiling.
*
Z still maintained that spending forty minutes in the principal's office getting the sadly disappointed lecture and the thinly disguised girls like you end their lives as streetwalkers lecture was an absolutely valid reason for going out to the pier on a Thursday night with the girls and a bottle of vodka.
Laena stumbled into Z's shoulder as someone pushed past her in the corridor. She gave a weak groan, clutching at Z's arm.
Z clutched back, her head pounding. High school was hell. High schoolers were animals.
Someone whooped, ploughing into a group of his friends, and then there were guys all up the corridor shouting and doing some kind of footballers' chant.
Z made a pitiful noise and buried her face in Laena's neck, feeling sick.
The principal had told Z that she was trouble, yesterday. As if that was something people actually said: You're trouble, Elizabeth. Z didn't think that she was, particularly, but she felt like she got into trouble all the time.
The hangover had maybe been her own fault.
She felt sicker when they finally got to English and found a note taped to the door, telling them that no relief teacher had been found to cover Ms Andover's unavoidable absence, and the class had a free period. The note ended, somewhat optimistically, with the hope that they would take the opportunity for some quiet study in the library.
Z stared at it, letting people jostle around her. A couple of jocks were high fiving each other over her head. Shit, she hadn't even had to come. She could have still been in bed.
Actually the library and quiet study sounded really good. She turned to say so to Laena, but Laena was chatting to one of the football guys. She'd transformed in the blink of an eye from fellow sufferer to sassy hip-cocked girl, her bag dangling from her fingers.
Laena's weakness for football jocks was tragic but well-established. Z folded her arms anyway, giving her a betrayed glare. Laena looked around after a second and caught her eye. She chewed her lip, putting a hand up to her forehead.
"Ow," she said.
Z rolled her eyes. "I'm going to the library," she said. "I'll see you second period?"
Laena reached out and snagged Z's bag, grunting at the weight. "Do you need any of this before next class?" she asked. "I can lug it around for a bit."
Z loved her friends. She nodded pathetically.
The library, when Z had made her painful way over (seriously, high schoolers, so loud, so many of them) was blessedly quiet. Z sank down at a corner booth behind the literature shelves, pillowing her head in her arms.
It was about ten minutes later that she lifted her head, feeling bleary and wondering if someone had said her name. After a second she realised that there were a couple of guys talking on the other side of the shelf behind her. One of the voices was an odd, toneless drawl she knew - Ryan, and someone else. Maybe Jon Walker?
"You don't know anything about it," Ryan was insisting.
"I'm just saying," the other guy said. Z was almost sure it was Jon Walker. He sounded as though he was kind of laughing. "Maybe it would be simpler to just. Ask her out for coffee or something."
"It's not -" Ryan huffed out a breath. "You don't know her, okay. She looks at you and she's all - "
Walker was definitely laughing now.
"Whatever," Ryan said, sounding as though he was scowling. "You haven't seen me trying to have a conversation with her."
They rounded the end of the bookshelf and Z was caught, blinking at them.
Ryan flushed bright pink. Walker bit his lip, his eyes bright.
Z gave Ryan a heavy-eyed nod, waggled her fingers in a hello, and put her head back on the desk.
Because the universe hated her, half a second later a bright, cheerful voice out in the main floor of the library called, "Hey, is Z Berg around?" Z lifted her head again, wincing.
"Mr B called an extra jazz band practice," the girl continued more quietly - talking to someone. "Have you seen her around?"
Z felt her eyes widen. Ryan had been about to leave but he glanced back now, meeting her horrified stare. Jazz band, god, this was a nightmare.
Ryan gave her an unreadable look, then slipped around the end of the bookshelf, out of sight.
"Hey," she heard him say a second later, "were you looking for Z? She was heading over to the cafeteria when I talked to her a minute ago."
Z blinked at Walker, who gave her a wave and followed Ryan.
Z let her head fall back onto her folded arms. She slept until Laena found her for second period.
*
"Huh," Reni said. Z looked up sharply. Knowing and loving Reni as she had for the past four years, she liked to think that she was pretty fluent in the nuances of Reni's speech; enough, at any rate, to know that that particular brand of huh meant that very shortly, Z was going to be really pissed off.
"What," she began, and the car stuttered to a halt. Reni looked at her sheepishly and Z said, flatly, "You have got to be kidding me."
"I always forget to pay attention to the fuel gauge," Reni said, in a vaguely interested tone, as if the whole thing was a curious sort of adventure and not the two of them in a broken down car fifteen minutes before Z's curfew.
"Reni," Z began in a voice that promised death, and Reni hurriedly tried to start the ignition, maybe in the hope that the Gas Fairies had paid an unexpected visit. The car made a disgruntled noise, and Z said, "Oh my God."
"I'm sorry!" Reni said. "But it's a warm night and it's only a half hour walk home, it'll be fine -"
"Are you kidding?" Z said. "I have to be home in fifteen minutes! My mom said if I'm late again I'll be grounded for a week."
"Can't you call them and explain?"
Z rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many times I've used the Our Car Broke Down excuse?" She sighed, rolling her head back in something that hopefully looked like heroic despair. "I'm doomed. I'm going to spend the next week inside with no phone and no internet, listening to the Best of the Eighties."
"Come on," Reni said, reaching back for their bags and opening the car door. "We'll just hurry home, and I'll come in with you and explain."
"Doomed," Z repeated, getting out and locking her door. "I can already hear the distant wailing of Pat Benatar."
Reni slanted her a guilty look and they started walking. High heels really weren't made for the trek, so Z slipped hers off and dangled them from one hand, grateful for the soft grass beside the road. Every now and then a car passed them, headlights slicing cleanly through the dark.
Until one of the cars slowed, and Z exchanged a glance with Reni and gripped her keys in her hand. The car dawdled to a crawl alongside them. Z kept her gaze firmly straight ahead, until a familiar voice said through the window, "Z?"
Z stopped and turned, and Ryan switched on the light in his car, giving her a small wave. "Uh, are you going somewhere?" he asked. "I could give you a lift, if you like. I mean, unless you want to walk."
"Oh my God, it's just like Transformers," Reni said. Z blinked at her but Reni just grinned, delighted and secretive at once, while Ryan ducked his head, hair falling across his face. He didn't move, though; the car idled beside them, waiting.
"That'd be awesome," Z said. "Reni's car broke down back there and I have to be home in seven minutes or something."
Ryan looked at her with a strange sort of caution. "Hop in," he said, and Z turned to Reni.
"You know, I think I'm going to walk," Reni said cheerfully. "Fresh air and all. You kids have fun, though."
Z gave her a suspicious glance but shrugged, walking around to the passenger side. "Where to?" Ryan asked when she got in, and Z gave him the directions to her house. He was, she noticed with amusement, clutching white-knuckled at the steering wheel in the ten and two position. She wondered how long he'd been driving; Reni had always been nervous at the beginning, too.
For a few minutes they drove in silence, or close to it - Ryan's car made rattling sounds that sounded like something in its death throes, but Ryan didn't seem too concerned by them so Z decided not to worry. Eventually, she asked, "So where have you been?"
"At my friend Spencer's place," Ryan said, and Z nodded. He hesitated, then said, "You?"
"Party," she said, and it was Ryan's turn to nod. "Pretty boring one," she added, and Ryan glanced at her and smiled, which made Z feel a little less awkward. She straightened in her chair and said, "The girl who was running it, she kept insisting that Pink is the greatest singer-songwriter of all time -"
"Oh my God," Ryan said, and Z laughed.
"I know, right?" she said. "Clearly it's Beyoncé."
Ryan gave her a startled glance, and Z smiled at him. "Um," he said. "I guess Destiny's Child were pretty -"
"I'm kidding, Ryan," Z said, and laughed at his utterly relieved expression.
They made it to Z's house with a minute to spare, and Z jumped out of the car, shouting "Thanks!" back over her shoulder. She closed the door and leaned down to grin at him through the open window.
"Really," she said. "Thanks. You're my saviour."
Ryan looked up at her through his eyelashes and smiled, shy and surprisingly sweet. "Any time," he said.
*
"... which is when we decided we all had to get matching bleeding dagger tatts on our collarbones for graduation."
"Mm hm," Z said. "Wait, what?" She turned around, focusing on Tennessee.
Tenn gave her an innocent grin. "Oh, are you here, Elizabeth?"
Z flushed. "Shut up. I was listening. You were talking about ... a drum kit. Something. That one you found online."
Her eyes strayed back across the parking lot to the beat-up old car parked under the tree. Ryan was fumbling in his jacket for his keys, his schoolbag dragging his other arm down. Z couldn't see his face under the newsboy cap.
Tennessee crossed her legs out on the curb. "I was thinking black blood," she said. "And maybe a banner curled around the handle with the word 'Daddy' on it."
"Mm," Z said.
*
Z was maybe thinking about Ryan more than she was going to tell Tennessee. That wasn't a good enough reason for her to actually fall over the next time she saw him, though.
She was coming down the close-walled outdoor cement steps outside the arts wing, and Ryan was leaning with his back against the wall at the bottom of stairs, texting somebody. His hair was falling in his eyes and he was biting his lip. Z's legs did something fuzzy and stupid and she tripped over the bottom step, falling heavily onto one knee.
Ryan's head jerked up. "Shit," he said. "Are you -" he took two steps and dropped down in front of her.
"Fuck," Z muttered. She curled her knees around and pulled herself up to sit on the bottom step, giving the blood beading through the torn material of her tights a morbid look.
Ryan frowned, leaning close over her knee, his fringe slipping into his eyes again. "I think it's okay?" he said. "I think -" He looked up, searching her face. "You feel okay, right?"
Z was mostly embarrassed. But maybe not as much as she would have been if he had been anybody else.
"No - I'm fine," she said. She gave her tights a sad look, the white-on-white polka dots with a jagged tear over the knee. "I liked these," she added.
Ryan gave them a considering look, and Z wanted to laugh because he was staring at her legs and thinking about polka dots. When he looked up at her again, though, his colour was higher, so maybe not so much.
Ryan's eyes were wider and darker than usual, and Z couldn't make herself look away. Her breath was coming a little bit juddery, and there was a nervous, warm curl in her stomach.
"You -" Ryan said quietly, leaning forward, one hand not quite touching her cheek. He sounded nervous. "Can I -"
Z bit her lip and leaned forward to meet him. He gave a soundless gasp when their lips met, his hand touching her hair. When she leaned back again he was staring at her, blank-faced. He had a dried leaf in his hand.
"You had." he said. "In your hair, I was just going to -"
"Oh fuck," Z said, mortified. "I thought you were - fuck, I didn't mean -"
"No!" Ryan said. "Don't -" He was smiling, slow and happy. He leaned forward again, curling his hand around her cheek, and this time the kiss was longer, sweet and warm. Z melted into it, relief making her weak.
"This is way, way better," Ryan said against her mouth.
"Yeah?" Z said, hearing her voice come out husky and pleased. Her knee was throbbing, and her tights were still ruined, and one day, one day she would be the kind of girl who didn't trip over a step when she saw a boy she liked. One day she would be the kind of girl who didn't get into trouble of one kind or another every freaking day.
In the meantime, there were some kinds of trouble she was okay with getting into. You met the best people there.
Fin
Bandom (The Like/The Young Veins) | Z/Ryan | 4,100 words | PG-13
Summary: High school AU. Z's maybe not the carefullest of girls.
Warning: Real Person Fiction
Disclaimer: Neither of us know any of the people in this story. This is fiction, written for fun and with affection.
Damsel
by softlyforgotten & cest-what
All of Z's friends were assholes. She wasn't sure how she'd never noticed before.
"Oh my god, not funny," she hissed. "Get me fucking out of here, guys."
Tennessee was gasping with laughter over the line. Z could actually see her and Laena crammed into the phone booth just outside the school, a splash of yellow sundress and Laena's dark hair. Reni was outside the booth, leaning against the glass, her bright red fringe covering her eyes. She lifted her hand in a little wave. Z growled.
Tennessee broke into giggles all over again. "We are," she managed, "we are absolutely going to get you out of there." Laena was humming the Charlie's Angels theme in the background now, and Tennessee started snorting with laughter. Then there was a clatter in Z's ear and the laughter went distant, and Z didn't have to be able to see them to know that Tenn had let the phone fall from nerveless fingers while she slumped giggling against the glass.
Z lowered her cell phone, looking around. She crept a little closer to the edge of the roof and leaned over the barrier. There was no fire escape on this side of the building. There weren't even any window sills you could shin down, if you were, you know, desperate and also insane. She bit her lip and turned to look around the rest of the roof.
The roof trap door was only unlocked on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when the debating club was allowed to practise up here, under supervision. But there was a forty minute window at the end of the day when you could hang out up here and smoke without getting caught, before the security door locked down at 5.30. They were always careful to be out before then, but Z had had to come back for her phone, which -
Z loved her phone, she really did, but it wasn't worth being trapped on the school roof overnight for. Also, as a tool for getting help it was apparently useless, because her friends thought her misfortune was the most hilarious thing that had ever happened to them.
Z blew them a kiss, then flipped them off. Tennessee had come out of the phone booth to lean on Reni. Z could see her making tragic wide eyes, her chin on Reni's shoulder.
"Shit," someone said from behind Z. She spun around, phone clutched in her hand.
A gangly boy was sitting on top of the partition between this flat roof and the peak of the next wing, frozen in the act of climbing over. His eyes were wide, fixed on Z.
Z took a second to take in the newsboy cap, the tangled scarf, the stovepipe trousers, before she placed him. The weird Ross kid; the one who hung out with Jon Walker and Pete Wentz and their crowd, and sometimes painted black birds on his cheek.
He was staring at Z as if she was something horrifying.
"Z?" Z could hear Laena tinnily through the phone. "We've found the security guard's number. Do you want us to call him?"
Z lifted the phone. "Hold on a sec," she said, her eyes fixed on Ross. (Ryan, she thought, Ryan Ross.) "I might... just hold on."
"I'll just -" Ryan Ross was making twitchy movements back the way he'd come. "I don't want to -"
"What?" Z said. "No, hey! Don't go away. Are you -" She looked around, helpless. "Do you know how to get down?"
He stared at her for a second longer. Then his face changed, his expression awed. He gave her a crooked smile, something shy and pleased in it that Z, suddenly, didn't know what to do with. "Wait," he said. "Are you saying - do you need help?"
"Um," Z said. "Um. Yes?"
He slithered the rest of the way down the roof, an ungraceful tangle of limbs.
"Okay," he said. He wasn't meeting her eyes now. "I have, uh. I have a key. To the trap door."
"Oh shit, I love you," Z said.
He looked at her properly then, a warm look, rolling his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I bet."
Z lifted the phone to her ear again. "Definitely do not call security," she said. "I met -" She turned back to Ryan. "Wait, why do you have a key?"
He was fumbling through the key ring he'd pulled out of his school bag. It had, Z noticed , a fuckton of keys on it.
"I was an office aide last year," he muttered. He ducked his chin. "I stole it and got it copied so I could come up here out of hours."
Z bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Um, never mind, I'll tell you later," she said to Laena's questions.
Ryan finally found the right key and dropped to his knees, struggling with the lock for a second. He got it open and got back to his feet. "After you."
His smile was crooked and warm again. Z swallowed.
"You're Ryan Ross, right?" she said, one foot on the top step. "I'm Z."
"I know," Ryan said. He ducked his head again, and this time there was a faint red tinge on his cheeks.
*
"Henderson's going to kill you," Tennessee said when Z got in the car, and Z made a face.
"He is not," she said. "I like this shirt."
"Sure you do," Tennessee said, grinning at her and twisting the car out onto the road. "That's not going to stop him from killing you."
"Henderson is an old-fashioned asshole," Z grumbled, slumping down in her seat and folding her arms. "It's not like I'm wearing booty shorts with Take Me Now printed across my ass or anything. Why are bellybuttons so offensive?"
Tennessee blinked at her. "Because Henderson is an old-fashioned asshole?" she suggested, and Z groaned and tugged uselessly at her shirt. Anyway, she thought, this was a good thing, she was making a stand, and also Reni might have a sweater she could borrow. She could make a secret stand, which would have much the same effect, minus a trip to the principal's office.
Neither Reni or Laena had a sweater when they got to school, so Z employed the tactic of hiding in the group of them and scurrying from class to class as quickly as possible. She was actually doing pretty well, she thought - she made it through English, Trig and French, and it wasn't until she was on her way to Study Hall that the dreaded voice sounded.
"Miss Berg?" Henderson said.
Z stood very still with a sinking feeling. She should have picked history too, and then she would be safe with Laena, not caught alone with The Asshole in the corridor.
She turned around and smiled brightly. "Yes, Mr Henderson?" she said, putting on the cheery tone that Reni said made her sound like she was five.
"Miss Berg, I am sure you are aware of school policy regarding appropriate dress," Henderson said, coming down the hallway towards her. Seriously, Z thought, biting back a snarl, who spoke like that? Miss Berg, what the actual fuck. Henderson gave her a venomous look. "As a senior, you are expected to be an example to younger years. Midriff-baring shirts cannot be considered suitable."
"I'm sorry, sir," Z said, schooling her face into an expression of regret. "I just forgot. Pretty much everything else I have is in the wash."
"Be that as it may," Henderson said. Oh my God, Z thought, I will punch you in the face. "I think it best to send you to the principal's office. Off you go, Miss Berg, and tell them why you are there."
"Yes, sir," Z said, turning on her heel and slouching away. What a waste of a study period, she thought glumly; she had a whole set of lyrics to work on and a good book on the go, but no, Henderson was busy making everyone's life a misery. Teachers should have to get psych tests, she decided, bag bumping into her knees, with an automatic exclusion for anyone who fit in the 'vindictive bastard' category.
"Henderson sent me," she told Mrs Denkins at the office, who gave her a sympathetic look.
"Have a seat, dear," she said. "I'll send you in in a minute."
Z sat down, tilting her head back to scowl at the ceiling. Midriff tops, she thought, preparing her speech in her head, were a perfectly valid fashion choice. The school was trying to stifle her individuality. She sent that off in quotation marks with a question mark to Tennessee and got a prompt response of haha sucker.
Z glared at the screen. i was so supportive that day you came to school barefoot, she sent back, and shoved her phone back in her pocket with a little more force than necessary.
"Wow," someone said. "What did that phone ever do to you?"
Z looked up, and raised her eyebrows. Ryan was standing in front of her, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth awkwardly. He gave her a small smile and said, "Hi, again."
"Hey," Z said. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan made a vague gesture. "Running an errand for Mr Lewis," he said, and Z nodded. "What about you?" he asked. "You get trapped on a roof again?"
"No," Z said, rolling her eyes. "Henderson didn't like my outfit."
Ryan twisted his mouth down in a grimace, and Z bit back laughter. "He's a jerk," Ryan said. "He banned me from wearing my favourite vest."
"Why?"
Ryan shrugged. "He didn't like the roses. He made up some dumb thing about the velvet catching on shit, but I bet if I was a girl he wouldn't have minded."
Z blinked at him. "Your vest has velvet roses on it?" she said. "Where did you find that?"
"Oh, I sewed the roses on," Ryan said, like it was obvious. Z waited, but he didn't say anything else, just made an awkward sort of face at her, mouth twisting into an O.
"In you go, Elizabeth," Mrs Denkins said, and Z stood up.
"I'll see you around," she said. "Gotta go be called an evil hussy for daring to show my stomach."
"I think you look nice," Ryan said. Then he turned hastily to leave. He tripped over three different things on his way out. Z watched, bemused, as he hunched up his shoulders and darted down the hall without looking back. When she turned to go into the office, she was smiling.
*
Z still maintained that spending forty minutes in the principal's office getting the sadly disappointed lecture and the thinly disguised girls like you end their lives as streetwalkers lecture was an absolutely valid reason for going out to the pier on a Thursday night with the girls and a bottle of vodka.
Laena stumbled into Z's shoulder as someone pushed past her in the corridor. She gave a weak groan, clutching at Z's arm.
Z clutched back, her head pounding. High school was hell. High schoolers were animals.
Someone whooped, ploughing into a group of his friends, and then there were guys all up the corridor shouting and doing some kind of footballers' chant.
Z made a pitiful noise and buried her face in Laena's neck, feeling sick.
The principal had told Z that she was trouble, yesterday. As if that was something people actually said: You're trouble, Elizabeth. Z didn't think that she was, particularly, but she felt like she got into trouble all the time.
The hangover had maybe been her own fault.
She felt sicker when they finally got to English and found a note taped to the door, telling them that no relief teacher had been found to cover Ms Andover's unavoidable absence, and the class had a free period. The note ended, somewhat optimistically, with the hope that they would take the opportunity for some quiet study in the library.
Z stared at it, letting people jostle around her. A couple of jocks were high fiving each other over her head. Shit, she hadn't even had to come. She could have still been in bed.
Actually the library and quiet study sounded really good. She turned to say so to Laena, but Laena was chatting to one of the football guys. She'd transformed in the blink of an eye from fellow sufferer to sassy hip-cocked girl, her bag dangling from her fingers.
Laena's weakness for football jocks was tragic but well-established. Z folded her arms anyway, giving her a betrayed glare. Laena looked around after a second and caught her eye. She chewed her lip, putting a hand up to her forehead.
"Ow," she said.
Z rolled her eyes. "I'm going to the library," she said. "I'll see you second period?"
Laena reached out and snagged Z's bag, grunting at the weight. "Do you need any of this before next class?" she asked. "I can lug it around for a bit."
Z loved her friends. She nodded pathetically.
The library, when Z had made her painful way over (seriously, high schoolers, so loud, so many of them) was blessedly quiet. Z sank down at a corner booth behind the literature shelves, pillowing her head in her arms.
It was about ten minutes later that she lifted her head, feeling bleary and wondering if someone had said her name. After a second she realised that there were a couple of guys talking on the other side of the shelf behind her. One of the voices was an odd, toneless drawl she knew - Ryan, and someone else. Maybe Jon Walker?
"You don't know anything about it," Ryan was insisting.
"I'm just saying," the other guy said. Z was almost sure it was Jon Walker. He sounded as though he was kind of laughing. "Maybe it would be simpler to just. Ask her out for coffee or something."
"It's not -" Ryan huffed out a breath. "You don't know her, okay. She looks at you and she's all - "
Walker was definitely laughing now.
"Whatever," Ryan said, sounding as though he was scowling. "You haven't seen me trying to have a conversation with her."
They rounded the end of the bookshelf and Z was caught, blinking at them.
Ryan flushed bright pink. Walker bit his lip, his eyes bright.
Z gave Ryan a heavy-eyed nod, waggled her fingers in a hello, and put her head back on the desk.
Because the universe hated her, half a second later a bright, cheerful voice out in the main floor of the library called, "Hey, is Z Berg around?" Z lifted her head again, wincing.
"Mr B called an extra jazz band practice," the girl continued more quietly - talking to someone. "Have you seen her around?"
Z felt her eyes widen. Ryan had been about to leave but he glanced back now, meeting her horrified stare. Jazz band, god, this was a nightmare.
Ryan gave her an unreadable look, then slipped around the end of the bookshelf, out of sight.
"Hey," she heard him say a second later, "were you looking for Z? She was heading over to the cafeteria when I talked to her a minute ago."
Z blinked at Walker, who gave her a wave and followed Ryan.
Z let her head fall back onto her folded arms. She slept until Laena found her for second period.
*
"Huh," Reni said. Z looked up sharply. Knowing and loving Reni as she had for the past four years, she liked to think that she was pretty fluent in the nuances of Reni's speech; enough, at any rate, to know that that particular brand of huh meant that very shortly, Z was going to be really pissed off.
"What," she began, and the car stuttered to a halt. Reni looked at her sheepishly and Z said, flatly, "You have got to be kidding me."
"I always forget to pay attention to the fuel gauge," Reni said, in a vaguely interested tone, as if the whole thing was a curious sort of adventure and not the two of them in a broken down car fifteen minutes before Z's curfew.
"Reni," Z began in a voice that promised death, and Reni hurriedly tried to start the ignition, maybe in the hope that the Gas Fairies had paid an unexpected visit. The car made a disgruntled noise, and Z said, "Oh my God."
"I'm sorry!" Reni said. "But it's a warm night and it's only a half hour walk home, it'll be fine -"
"Are you kidding?" Z said. "I have to be home in fifteen minutes! My mom said if I'm late again I'll be grounded for a week."
"Can't you call them and explain?"
Z rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many times I've used the Our Car Broke Down excuse?" She sighed, rolling her head back in something that hopefully looked like heroic despair. "I'm doomed. I'm going to spend the next week inside with no phone and no internet, listening to the Best of the Eighties."
"Come on," Reni said, reaching back for their bags and opening the car door. "We'll just hurry home, and I'll come in with you and explain."
"Doomed," Z repeated, getting out and locking her door. "I can already hear the distant wailing of Pat Benatar."
Reni slanted her a guilty look and they started walking. High heels really weren't made for the trek, so Z slipped hers off and dangled them from one hand, grateful for the soft grass beside the road. Every now and then a car passed them, headlights slicing cleanly through the dark.
Until one of the cars slowed, and Z exchanged a glance with Reni and gripped her keys in her hand. The car dawdled to a crawl alongside them. Z kept her gaze firmly straight ahead, until a familiar voice said through the window, "Z?"
Z stopped and turned, and Ryan switched on the light in his car, giving her a small wave. "Uh, are you going somewhere?" he asked. "I could give you a lift, if you like. I mean, unless you want to walk."
"Oh my God, it's just like Transformers," Reni said. Z blinked at her but Reni just grinned, delighted and secretive at once, while Ryan ducked his head, hair falling across his face. He didn't move, though; the car idled beside them, waiting.
"That'd be awesome," Z said. "Reni's car broke down back there and I have to be home in seven minutes or something."
Ryan looked at her with a strange sort of caution. "Hop in," he said, and Z turned to Reni.
"You know, I think I'm going to walk," Reni said cheerfully. "Fresh air and all. You kids have fun, though."
Z gave her a suspicious glance but shrugged, walking around to the passenger side. "Where to?" Ryan asked when she got in, and Z gave him the directions to her house. He was, she noticed with amusement, clutching white-knuckled at the steering wheel in the ten and two position. She wondered how long he'd been driving; Reni had always been nervous at the beginning, too.
For a few minutes they drove in silence, or close to it - Ryan's car made rattling sounds that sounded like something in its death throes, but Ryan didn't seem too concerned by them so Z decided not to worry. Eventually, she asked, "So where have you been?"
"At my friend Spencer's place," Ryan said, and Z nodded. He hesitated, then said, "You?"
"Party," she said, and it was Ryan's turn to nod. "Pretty boring one," she added, and Ryan glanced at her and smiled, which made Z feel a little less awkward. She straightened in her chair and said, "The girl who was running it, she kept insisting that Pink is the greatest singer-songwriter of all time -"
"Oh my God," Ryan said, and Z laughed.
"I know, right?" she said. "Clearly it's Beyoncé."
Ryan gave her a startled glance, and Z smiled at him. "Um," he said. "I guess Destiny's Child were pretty -"
"I'm kidding, Ryan," Z said, and laughed at his utterly relieved expression.
They made it to Z's house with a minute to spare, and Z jumped out of the car, shouting "Thanks!" back over her shoulder. She closed the door and leaned down to grin at him through the open window.
"Really," she said. "Thanks. You're my saviour."
Ryan looked up at her through his eyelashes and smiled, shy and surprisingly sweet. "Any time," he said.
*
"... which is when we decided we all had to get matching bleeding dagger tatts on our collarbones for graduation."
"Mm hm," Z said. "Wait, what?" She turned around, focusing on Tennessee.
Tenn gave her an innocent grin. "Oh, are you here, Elizabeth?"
Z flushed. "Shut up. I was listening. You were talking about ... a drum kit. Something. That one you found online."
Her eyes strayed back across the parking lot to the beat-up old car parked under the tree. Ryan was fumbling in his jacket for his keys, his schoolbag dragging his other arm down. Z couldn't see his face under the newsboy cap.
Tennessee crossed her legs out on the curb. "I was thinking black blood," she said. "And maybe a banner curled around the handle with the word 'Daddy' on it."
"Mm," Z said.
*
Z was maybe thinking about Ryan more than she was going to tell Tennessee. That wasn't a good enough reason for her to actually fall over the next time she saw him, though.
She was coming down the close-walled outdoor cement steps outside the arts wing, and Ryan was leaning with his back against the wall at the bottom of stairs, texting somebody. His hair was falling in his eyes and he was biting his lip. Z's legs did something fuzzy and stupid and she tripped over the bottom step, falling heavily onto one knee.
Ryan's head jerked up. "Shit," he said. "Are you -" he took two steps and dropped down in front of her.
"Fuck," Z muttered. She curled her knees around and pulled herself up to sit on the bottom step, giving the blood beading through the torn material of her tights a morbid look.
Ryan frowned, leaning close over her knee, his fringe slipping into his eyes again. "I think it's okay?" he said. "I think -" He looked up, searching her face. "You feel okay, right?"
Z was mostly embarrassed. But maybe not as much as she would have been if he had been anybody else.
"No - I'm fine," she said. She gave her tights a sad look, the white-on-white polka dots with a jagged tear over the knee. "I liked these," she added.
Ryan gave them a considering look, and Z wanted to laugh because he was staring at her legs and thinking about polka dots. When he looked up at her again, though, his colour was higher, so maybe not so much.
Ryan's eyes were wider and darker than usual, and Z couldn't make herself look away. Her breath was coming a little bit juddery, and there was a nervous, warm curl in her stomach.
"You -" Ryan said quietly, leaning forward, one hand not quite touching her cheek. He sounded nervous. "Can I -"
Z bit her lip and leaned forward to meet him. He gave a soundless gasp when their lips met, his hand touching her hair. When she leaned back again he was staring at her, blank-faced. He had a dried leaf in his hand.
"You had." he said. "In your hair, I was just going to -"
"Oh fuck," Z said, mortified. "I thought you were - fuck, I didn't mean -"
"No!" Ryan said. "Don't -" He was smiling, slow and happy. He leaned forward again, curling his hand around her cheek, and this time the kiss was longer, sweet and warm. Z melted into it, relief making her weak.
"This is way, way better," Ryan said against her mouth.
"Yeah?" Z said, hearing her voice come out husky and pleased. Her knee was throbbing, and her tights were still ruined, and one day, one day she would be the kind of girl who didn't trip over a step when she saw a boy she liked. One day she would be the kind of girl who didn't get into trouble of one kind or another every freaking day.
In the meantime, there were some kinds of trouble she was okay with getting into. You met the best people there.
Fin