Everything I Am Not (Margo/Jenny)
Title: Everything I Am Not
Author: leithal
Pairing: Margo Pike/Jenny Prezzioso
Timeline: middle school was the loose request but I went with high school because I realized that was probably the only time they would attend the same school - since they would be four grades apart and middle school only lasts for three grades...
Disclaimer: not mine, I'm just playing!
Words: just over 1000
For: mayhap, whose prompt was "opposites attract [check!!]; lipstick and nail polish [points for a passing mention??]"
I've been watching Jenny Prezzioso since the first day of school. She sits ahead of me in homeroom, pretty much the only possible class that a freshman (her) and a senior (me) can have in common. Until this year, had you asked me about homeroom I would have told you how stupid it is, how pointless to have to report to some classroom in the most inconvenient wing of the school for ten minutes before real classes start for the day. I would have told you that we could listen to the staticky daily announcements just as effectively (or, you know, not) in our first actual class, rather than in dumb, no-purpose homeroom.
In the two weeks since school started, I have not missed a single day of homeroom. I spend those ten minutes every morning watching her, trying to make it look like I'm not watching her. Looking quickly away when she glances in my direction. Gathering my belongings slowly at the end of the ten minutes so that I can watch her back as she leaves the room. Then I eagerly hope to catch a glimpse of her in the hallways between classes, and I practically count down the minutes until formerly-stupid homeroom the next day.
In the two weeks since school started, I have reached the following conclusion:
Jenny Prezzioso is everything that I am not.
She slips through the world without disturbing much. She eases around corners quietly and when she passes through even the largest crowd of people in the SHS hallways, no one gets jostled.
I can't walk past one person without causing a collision.
She is tiny, elf-like, where I am big-boned and solid.
She can finish a school day still looking crisp and pressed. I leave my house in the mornings looking rumpled. Her lipstick is always perfect; the closest I ever come to cosmetic finesse is the chipped glitter nail polish on my very-bitten fingernails. She never has a hair out of place - she has one of those short, pixie haircuts that is supposed to look tousled, and she still never has a hair out of place. I have one of those longer, layered haircuts that is supposed to never have a hair out of place, and it is of course perpetually tousled. Her clothes are always spotless. I rarely make it to lunchtime without spills or smudges, or snagging and tearing my shirt on something, and it doesn't even have to be something sharp.
She doesn't talk much, but when she does talk people listen. What she has to say is always smart, often thought-provoking, and usually very, very funny. Her sense of humour is dry, a bit dark - sometimes, people miss it altogether. I never miss it.
I ask Mallory, who used to babysit all of Stoneybrook, about her.
“We used to call her our brattiest client - Mary Anne was the only one who didn't mind sitting for her. She was prissy. She hated getting dirty. She threw temper tantrums. She was mad jealous of her baby sister. She actually wasn't so bad, looking back on it - just really, really particular. Remember I was used to a house full of chaos - a four-year-old who didn't like getting dirty was kind of a foreign concept. Why do you ask?”
“Um, she's in my homeroom. I kind of... noticed her.”
“Are you blushing??”
“No. Shut up.”
“You are!! Margo's got a cru-ush!! On... Jenny... oh that is so wrong.”
I decide that I hate Mallory.
Next, I ask Vanessa, who babysat almost as much of Stoneybrook as Mallory did.
“Ness, what do you remember about sitting for Jenny Prezzioso? She sits in front of me in homeroom,” I say quickly before she can ask any questions, “And I was just wondering. I mean, because I remember her from when we were all little and doing day camps and stuff, but I haven't seen much of her since, and I know almost all of the other kids in my homeroom.”
Luckily, Vanessa doesn't seem to find the question strange. Then again, Vanessa doesn't seem to find much of anything strange - I figure it's because she's strange enough herself that she just doesn't notice it in other people. Ever.
“Jenny Prezzioso? Hmmm... Mal and a lot of the older girls hated sitting for her, but by the time Byron and I joined the BSC, I think she'd mellowed a bit. She was always trying to please her parents, as far as I could tell - but sometimes she had a hard time doing it. Her little sister Andrea was one of those perfect-types, and I don't think the Prezziosos ever realized they were playing favourites, but they kind of were. Jenny got quieter, and I always felt a little sorry for her. She's smart, that one.”
Finally, I ask Karen Brewer. Karen's my debate team partner, and probably the closest thing I've got to a best friend - although we spend almost as much time fighting as we spend being inseparable in any given year. We're both loud and opinionated and, yeah, kind of bossy - and what can I say, we win a lot of debates. I ask Karen about Jenny because Karen's younger brother, Andrew, seems to be the only person that Jenny spends time with regularly at school.
We're setting up a classroom for the first debate team meeting of the school year when I ask, and Karen laughs at me, and I mean laughs. Doubled-over, tears running down her face laughing. I am just about ready to decide that I hate Karen - again - possibly even more than I hate Mallory.
“You're not very subtle, you know,” she finally squeaks, “You're bright red. And that is so funny, because Jenny was over at the big house hanging out with Andrew on the weekend, and she asked me...”
...and just then, the classroom door opens and in walks Jenny Prezzioso. Karen trails off and I clam up and Jenny smiles and the rest of the room fades as she kind of waves awkwardly and says, “Hi. I... want to join the debate team? I'm Jenny.”
I find my tongue finally. “Hi, Jenny. I'm Ma...”
“Margo Pike,” she says, and she's smiling again - this time a little bit sheepishly. “I know. I've been watching you since the first day of school.”
Author: leithal
Pairing: Margo Pike/Jenny Prezzioso
Timeline: middle school was the loose request but I went with high school because I realized that was probably the only time they would attend the same school - since they would be four grades apart and middle school only lasts for three grades...
Disclaimer: not mine, I'm just playing!
Words: just over 1000
For: mayhap, whose prompt was "opposites attract [check!!]; lipstick and nail polish [points for a passing mention??]"
I've been watching Jenny Prezzioso since the first day of school. She sits ahead of me in homeroom, pretty much the only possible class that a freshman (her) and a senior (me) can have in common. Until this year, had you asked me about homeroom I would have told you how stupid it is, how pointless to have to report to some classroom in the most inconvenient wing of the school for ten minutes before real classes start for the day. I would have told you that we could listen to the staticky daily announcements just as effectively (or, you know, not) in our first actual class, rather than in dumb, no-purpose homeroom.
In the two weeks since school started, I have not missed a single day of homeroom. I spend those ten minutes every morning watching her, trying to make it look like I'm not watching her. Looking quickly away when she glances in my direction. Gathering my belongings slowly at the end of the ten minutes so that I can watch her back as she leaves the room. Then I eagerly hope to catch a glimpse of her in the hallways between classes, and I practically count down the minutes until formerly-stupid homeroom the next day.
In the two weeks since school started, I have reached the following conclusion:
Jenny Prezzioso is everything that I am not.
She slips through the world without disturbing much. She eases around corners quietly and when she passes through even the largest crowd of people in the SHS hallways, no one gets jostled.
I can't walk past one person without causing a collision.
She is tiny, elf-like, where I am big-boned and solid.
She can finish a school day still looking crisp and pressed. I leave my house in the mornings looking rumpled. Her lipstick is always perfect; the closest I ever come to cosmetic finesse is the chipped glitter nail polish on my very-bitten fingernails. She never has a hair out of place - she has one of those short, pixie haircuts that is supposed to look tousled, and she still never has a hair out of place. I have one of those longer, layered haircuts that is supposed to never have a hair out of place, and it is of course perpetually tousled. Her clothes are always spotless. I rarely make it to lunchtime without spills or smudges, or snagging and tearing my shirt on something, and it doesn't even have to be something sharp.
She doesn't talk much, but when she does talk people listen. What she has to say is always smart, often thought-provoking, and usually very, very funny. Her sense of humour is dry, a bit dark - sometimes, people miss it altogether. I never miss it.
I ask Mallory, who used to babysit all of Stoneybrook, about her.
“We used to call her our brattiest client - Mary Anne was the only one who didn't mind sitting for her. She was prissy. She hated getting dirty. She threw temper tantrums. She was mad jealous of her baby sister. She actually wasn't so bad, looking back on it - just really, really particular. Remember I was used to a house full of chaos - a four-year-old who didn't like getting dirty was kind of a foreign concept. Why do you ask?”
“Um, she's in my homeroom. I kind of... noticed her.”
“Are you blushing??”
“No. Shut up.”
“You are!! Margo's got a cru-ush!! On... Jenny... oh that is so wrong.”
I decide that I hate Mallory.
Next, I ask Vanessa, who babysat almost as much of Stoneybrook as Mallory did.
“Ness, what do you remember about sitting for Jenny Prezzioso? She sits in front of me in homeroom,” I say quickly before she can ask any questions, “And I was just wondering. I mean, because I remember her from when we were all little and doing day camps and stuff, but I haven't seen much of her since, and I know almost all of the other kids in my homeroom.”
Luckily, Vanessa doesn't seem to find the question strange. Then again, Vanessa doesn't seem to find much of anything strange - I figure it's because she's strange enough herself that she just doesn't notice it in other people. Ever.
“Jenny Prezzioso? Hmmm... Mal and a lot of the older girls hated sitting for her, but by the time Byron and I joined the BSC, I think she'd mellowed a bit. She was always trying to please her parents, as far as I could tell - but sometimes she had a hard time doing it. Her little sister Andrea was one of those perfect-types, and I don't think the Prezziosos ever realized they were playing favourites, but they kind of were. Jenny got quieter, and I always felt a little sorry for her. She's smart, that one.”
Finally, I ask Karen Brewer. Karen's my debate team partner, and probably the closest thing I've got to a best friend - although we spend almost as much time fighting as we spend being inseparable in any given year. We're both loud and opinionated and, yeah, kind of bossy - and what can I say, we win a lot of debates. I ask Karen about Jenny because Karen's younger brother, Andrew, seems to be the only person that Jenny spends time with regularly at school.
We're setting up a classroom for the first debate team meeting of the school year when I ask, and Karen laughs at me, and I mean laughs. Doubled-over, tears running down her face laughing. I am just about ready to decide that I hate Karen - again - possibly even more than I hate Mallory.
“You're not very subtle, you know,” she finally squeaks, “You're bright red. And that is so funny, because Jenny was over at the big house hanging out with Andrew on the weekend, and she asked me...”
...and just then, the classroom door opens and in walks Jenny Prezzioso. Karen trails off and I clam up and Jenny smiles and the rest of the room fades as she kind of waves awkwardly and says, “Hi. I... want to join the debate team? I'm Jenny.”
I find my tongue finally. “Hi, Jenny. I'm Ma...”
“Margo Pike,” she says, and she's smiling again - this time a little bit sheepishly. “I know. I've been watching you since the first day of school.”