Behind Their Backs || Douxie Casperan

1 || I Built a Life

Based on Season 1, Episode 1: Becoming: Part 1

(Unedited, Not Proofread, 4120 words)
Trigger Warnings: None

"Hey... Vicky..." Toby says in an over-the-top suggestive voice as I approach where he's standing on Jim's driveway, "you didn't happen to... oh, I don't know... finish the homework?" His expression shifts to one of desperation as he subtly asks me for my answers, and I can't help but chuckle at his plea. I roll my eyes just to make it clear that I'm disappointed, but I'm not mean enough to deny him help completely.

"I did," I reply, really playing up the British accent because I know it annoys him, "but if you want it, you'll have to beat me to school." 

"Hey, that's not fair!" Toby exclaims, crossing his arms and shifting his weight as his bike leans against him. "I'm not exactly an athletic one-twenty, you know?" 

"Rules are rules," I respond, holding my hands up innocently and letting my bike lean against my side as well. "Hey, when's Jim coming out? We're going to be late." The sun shining overhead— as well as the watch that clearly displays the time on my wrist— tells me it's almost eight, which means we're definitely going to be late. 

"I don't know, he must be hung up on something," Toby replies. We both look at Jim's garage door and, before either of us can start our playful guessing at countdowns, the garage starts to open. 

Jim appears behind the garage door wearing his signature blue and black outfit with his hair combed neatly and a smile on his face. He glances to the side as the garage fully opens, and the smile drops from his face as he mutters, "Ugh! Racoons!" A trashcan I hadn't noticed until now is flopped over on its side with a few pieces of trash sprawled out nearby.

"We're late for school, Jimbo," Toby warns his friend, and I sling my leg back over my bike as I watch Jim pick up the trash and put it back in the trashcan. 

"Sorry, guys," Jim says honestly, "I was busy with the lunches. One for me, one for Mom, and..." Jim hands the third bag to Toby, who accepts it graciously as Jim and I start to tip-toe our bikes to the edge of the driveway. 

"Balsamic mushrooms, meatloaf, chunky, sun-dried tomatoes," Toby says after sniffing the bag, his uncanny accuracy still surprising me even though I've been exposed to it for months now. 

"And cardamom," Jim adds as he and I come to a stop at the edge of the pavement. 

"Ooh! Taking a chance there, Chef Jim," Toby compliments him. 

"What's life without a little adventure?" Jim asks. 

"Safe," I tease, and the dark-haired boy throws a playful glance at me before turning his attention back to Toby. I take a second to put on my helmet and toss my blonde braid back over my shoulders. 

"I can't eat this," Toby says with a sudden solemn tone, "I'm on a diet." He tries to give the bag back to Jim and I roll my eyes again, this time because I know they're dragging this interaction on. 

"You've been a diet for the past fourteen years, Tobes," Jim argues, and I kick off and start riding my bike out onto the road. 

"I know!" Toby exclaims. 

"You're fifteen!" Jim yells back as he starts following behind me. I hear Toby respond, but I can't quite tell what he's saying. 

We ride fast, but Jim makes the last-minute decision to cut through the canal to try and get there faster. I'm ahead of him by the time he turns, so I yell, "I'll meet you there, hold the door for me!" and continue on without slowing down. The brakes on my bike are less than effective, so it would be useless to spend time turning around and following them through the canal when I can just keep riding and not run the risk of falling off or further ruining my bike.