Don't Trust The Weatherman

Welcome To Seaside High

Seaside High School was just as miserable as every other high school in America. The hallways were lined with blue lockers, each accessorized with its own set of scratches, stickers, and partially scratched stickers that will remain until the end of time —or until the janitor decides he's sick of looking at them. The floors were an off-white tile with a wax coating that dulled with time and had a not-so-unique pattern of scuff marks and old gum stains from the hundreds of students that walked across it 5 days a week. And, of course, the entire school was smothered in its prideful colors —blue, lighter blue, and brown— like an old cat lady that really wants you to know she likes cats.

The social scene was equally cliche; Joey was partially convinced that the creators of High School Musical had taken a crack at Seaside High before she arrived just to see if they could make it as platitude as possible and get away with it.

There were the obvious sports jockeys who paraded around the school as if the blue, blue, and brown stripes on the floor were painted just for them to walk on; their girlfriends who, like any unreasonable teenage Disney show, all happened to be on the cheerleading team; so-called nerds, which just meant anyone with glasses, good grades, and zero affiliation with popular groups A and B; and everyone else who broke off into small, insignificant coteries of their own.

Joey belonged to no real group. She could've been clumped in with the nerds —not that she cared— but Joel happened to be captain of the football team and was dating Holly Stewart, a flier on the cheerleading squad, and in a small town like Seaside, twins are socially affiliated whether they want to be or not. This is not to say Joey didn't have friends. Actually, the teenage girl had picked a modest few from her peers to call friends and was currently weaving her way through a shoal of students to reach two of them.

Tyrone Harris and Mariana Vasquez were an unusual pair; polar opposites one might argue.

Tyrone was inconceivably tall with thin lengthy limbs that vaguely resembled those of a Daddy Long Leg. His skin was a deep hickory brown color —though most of it was covered by bright colorful clothes— and his hair was just a shade shy of black. Mariana, on the other hand, struggled to reach the middle shelf and, at some places, the bottom. She was usually found in dull colors like black, very very dark gray, and, on the rare occasion, purple. Her hair had been dyed more times than she could count but she never dyed her eyebrows to match so they always remained a contrasting auburn against her pale skin.

Opposites.

"Hey, Ty, Mars." Joey greets her friends when she's close enough and the un-matching pair wave, speaking in unison. "Hey, Joe."

The three start in a new direction, taking up little space in the hallway but enough that the crowd of students parts around them, all in their own rushes to make it to their next class. They walk at a comfortable pace, following the same path they do every day at 12:02 with the intent of making it to their lunch table by 12:04.

"Where's Alycia?" The question leaves Joey's mouth as she notices a missing body from their small group, the trio usually moving as a quad.

Mariana shrugs, her hands fishing through her bag for something that's clearly more important than a missing friend. "I didn't see her in P.E. today."

"I didn't see her in art either." Tyrone jumps in, his tone holding the same lack of concern as his shorter counterpart. "But you know who I did see...?"

And that kicks it off. As the three walk into the cafeteria, Tyrone begins to spill all of the juicy gossip he acquired over 5 periods of schooling. Joey never cared for gossip —mainly because she could predict it all before it happened— and she recently found herself viewing her friends as Flavius and Marullus whenever they giggled and hated on their more popular peers, but that's probably just because she has English right before lunch and Julius Ceasar has been a prime topic.

"I heard that Holly Stewart..." Joey's head perks up at the sound of her brother's girlfriend's name, "had a party over the weekend while her parents were out of town and the cops showed up." Mariana finishes offering her sliver of information as the three sit down at their designated table.

Joey shrugs, the news already feeling old to her, and she takes a glance over at the table situated 4 tables away from hers. Holly's table. She rests her head in her hands and rolls her eyes at the sight of her brother tossing grapes into Connor Callahan's mouth, the entire table roaring unnecessarily loudly when he makes one in.

Holly is predictable.

"Oh my shit, it makes so much sense now!" Tyrone exclaims, pulling the small table's attention back onto himself. "This picture was getting thrown around of Eli Hewitt kissing Vegas Knightly at a party —I thought it was photoshopped or something, but Vegas would totally be at Holly's party and so would Eli."

Joey frowns, her eyes glued to the back of the brunette boy's head as she processes the rumor. It was not out of the ordinary for Eli to go around kissing every girl he could find, but in all of her years, Vegas has had only one boyfriend to date. The tale didn't make sense.

"Are you sure it was them?" She asks, trying her best not to sound awkward with the information, though her words still came out strained and, to her, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Tyrone nods with closed eyes and a concentrated expression as if he were picturing the scene behind his eyelids. "Yeah, I'd know his biceps anywhere...because he parades around with his shirt off all the time...no other reason."

This earns the lengthy boy a backhand from both of the Eli-haters at his sides and he grumbles, clutching his chest. Mariana continues to scold him about his Eli-related fantasies, reminding him about that time in first grade when the boy scared him so bad he peed himself and swore to hate him forever; while Joey silently watches the table packed with its assortment of cheerleaders and players on the teams being cheered for.

Connor catches the last grape in his mouth and takes the empty vine from Joel as he rises from his seat, stands up on his chair, and howls triumphantly. His actions are obnoxious, repugnant, and downright annoying to everyone not sitting at his table, but that was just Connor.

Connor is predictable.

Joey's eyes wander to her twin brother Joel as he claps now that his hands are free of grapes. He brings an arm around Holly when Connor settles back into his seat and the cheerleader nudges her boyfriend playfully; Joey internally groans, finding the public display of affection to be undoubtedly nauseating, but not something she had become accustomed to by now.

Joel is predictable.

"Do you think they might be dating?" Mariana inquires in reference to their initial conversation, her reaching across Tyrone to flick Joey. Joey simply shrugs, her eyes narrowed on the girl sitting 3 seats away from Joel with her gaze locked on the screen of her phone.

Vegas Knightly is not predictable.