The New Girl - A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter One

"Viranda, it's time to get up!"

Five more minutes, she wanted to say, but knew that it would get her nowhere, not today. Groggily, the seventeen-year-old throws off the covers and slept-walked down to the overly-bright yellow kitchen.

You could cut the tension with a knife. From the moment the teen's grey eyes met the adult's blue eyes, dark circles meeting powdered skin, both bodies stiffened. Serious and bubbly stood still, becoming a binary like black and white, lively and deadening.

"You look half-dead," Elaine comments, attempting to joke.

"I feel half-dead," Viranda states plainly. With a nervous smile, the step-mother places a plate in front of the teen, the sight of a stack of pancakes matching the aroma of the room.

"It's the big day today. Thought I would whip you up something."

Viranda attempts to smile, but it no way expresses how she felt. Why did everything have to be so new? The house, the school, the state, the step-mother? Why couldn't everything, for once, stay the same like it should?

Here's to being, yet again, the class fool.

She downs a glass of orange juice before starting to pick at her plate. Stepping on egg shells, Mrs. Thompson slides into the chair next to the brunette.

Get away from me.

"I know I'm not your mother—"

Then why are you replacing her?

"—and I know that we haven't known each other long—"

You knew my father for all but three weeks before you guys eloped behind my back.

"—but I think you should give this a fair shot." Viranda slams down the fork in her hand. I have to get out of here.

"Where's Dad?"

"He got called down to the office early, but I can drive—"

"I'll just take the bus." Before Elaine could object, Viranda pushes aside her plate and ran up the stairs.

~

No one talks to her on the bus; actually most people ignored the fact the bus had stopped at a new house. Some students were sleeping, others were listening to their music, and a few finishing the last of their homework. But for the select few that did look up at the stranger, the reactions were the same, the typical silent code: keep walking, remember you're treading in our waters, and maybe you'll survive more than our cold stares.

But Viranda gave them the same stare back, but hers was with confusion. Albeit it, she hadn't gone to a regular school since sixth grade, she definitely would have remembered if the students had more or less than two eyes, antennae coming from their head, less than five fingers, tentacles or the bottom of another animal instead of hands and feet, scales or fur for skin, or floating heads or brains in tanks.