Fettered

The Day We Met

Moving out to the sticks wasn't exactly what Persephone Black wanted. If she had it her way, she'd still be living in Chicago. Of course, her father had other plans.

Persephone sat in AP Physics 2, playing with the peeling bat and skull stickers on her binder, almost glad to be at school. It was a place that felt oddly cathartic, as crazy as that sounded. Though she didn't know anyone and sat in an unfamiliar place, she could breathe without being surrounded by boxes and boxes of crap. She instead distracted herself with schoolwork, not once needing to cross paths with 'drill sergeant' Dad, Ronald. Ever-invasive thoughts of him kept her from resting too easily, though. At least her new school enveloped her in peace (and the muddy, scummy smell of swamp).

Dulvey High School — the place where all the hick kids seemed to go. Not nearly as prestigious (pretentious) as Northside College Prep, but Dulvey was the best she could get on two week's notice, ala the much-impulsive Ronald. Her high school career would be over soon anyway, thank god. Winter hadn't quite arrived by the time she'd moved and classes were probably easier here, so she wouldn't be losing much progress. Lucky her — Ronald's castigation knew no bounds when it came to slipping grades.

The teacher, Mrs. Tompkin, got her attention by announcing a project where students would be working in pairs. Her shoulders dropped and she rolled her eyes. Pairs. Ugh, she did not need to make nice with her classmates, not when she only had a few months around these no-name hicks. She tuned out Mrs. Tompkin calling partners by last names until she heard her own.

"Miss Black and Mister Baker."

Baker... What was his name again? Lewis? Laurence? Something like that. She glanced around the room but no one in particular stood out to her — not that she really knew what to look for.

"All right," said Mrs. Tompkin curtly, "everyone find your partner. I'll be handin' out guidelines, so start plannin'."

The sound of scraping chairs followed. Students stood to pair up and Persephone's eyes darted every which way. Who in the hell was Leon Baker again? Or whatever his name was. While everyone else got together, she noticed one guy sitting by himself. He had his book open, seemingly waiting for his partner to find him while putting as little effort into reciprocation as possible. She approached with her book in hand.

"Baker?"
"Yep," he replied shortly, not looking at her.

She observed him as she took her seat on the opposite side of the desk. The boy had probably the worst hairline she'd ever seen on a high schooler and damn did he have a thin face.

Mrs. Tompkin came by their table, dropped two project guidelines before them, and went on her business. Persephone took half-hearted notes as she read, the chattering all around making his silence more noticeable.

"So, uh," she started, tapping her eraser against her book. "Name's Persephone."
"Lucas," he replied absently, scrawling in his notebook.
"That's what it was," she said, smacking the table. "I thought it was Lewis or Leon or something — but don't worry, I'll remember."

Lucas said nothing. She fixed her glasses and examined his notebook. He didn't write anything about their assignment. Instead, he sketched something electronic-looking, naming and annotating certain aspects of it. Is this really what she had to work with? Someone who didn't care about the project? Great, she'd be pulling most of the weight. College here was going to be horrible, wasn't it? If she had to put up with this kind of shit — this Chicago-ass lack-of-giving-a-shit shit — it sure would be. She wasn't looking forward to another decade of schooling, not if she'd have to put up with people.

"What?" Lucas demanded.
Oops, she'd been staring. She cleared her throat, eyes wandering away. "Nothing."
"Expectin' me t' take this project seriously 'r are ya just gawkin'?"
She shrugged. "Honestly, I think we could get by half-assing this whole thing."