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A Soulmate!AU in which everyone has a series of numbers on the back of their hand. The number represents how many steps that person has to take until they figure out who their soulmate is/meet their soulmate.
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Casey's POV
It was an ordinary Thursday morning. There was nothing special about it, except the cold weather that managed to squeeze itself in after a few days of it reaching around 70 to 80 degrees.
It was a sweater weather kind of day.
Comfortably warm, yet uncomfortably cold? Thankfully, most of my classes are inside Clayton Prep.
And that leads to where I am now; in the History and Literature classroom. The teacher we had was droning on and on about Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed or the "amazing" work of Plato's Allegory of the Cave. In my opinion, it wasn't that interesting. Like, what could Freire's theory of banking the concept of education help with today's society?
Well, it was a good thing to know, but that wasn't the point.
My attention wasn't put on Socrates, no- it was focused on a girl who sat in the front. Her dark hair draped like a waterfall behind her shoulders and her hands were carefully folded as if to not dare wrinkle her uniform. But that girl wasn't a stranger to me.
That girl was Izzie. One of my best friends.
Or more.
More in my mind, at least. I would never say anything of the sort aloud out of the fear of jeopardizing our friendship. Thing is, ever since I first attended Clayton Prep, I felt this pull toward her. Not the pull that I got out of Evan when we briefly dated- this one was stronger. More intense. More... alive.
Another thing that clouded my thoughts from Plato and Freire was the numbers that littered the back of my hand. I never really knew what they meant until a few years ago; apparently, it's like a counter. It ticks down with every single step you take. Once you finally reach 0, you'll meet your so proclaimed "soulmate" or whatever.
Yeah right. That was totally true.
"Ms. Gardner, what are your thoughts on what Glaucon says on the second page?" My History teacher said, yanking me out of my thoughts. I blink. Half of the class has turned to look at me like they usually do.
I go back to biting at my pen cap.
——
By the time the bell struck 3:15 PM, I already had my notebooks in my locker, though my backpack was slowing me down. Since I had to go to my track meet, I was stuck trying to shove my backpack in my already full locker, groaning quietly as I finally pushed the metal door closed. As I averted my gaze to the side, I was met by someone familiar.
"Oh, hey."
"Hi."
It was Izzie, of course. We'd usually walk to practice 5 minutes early so we could take our time. She had already changed into her running clothes; a long-sleeved shirt and some sweats. Crowley wasn't too hard on us with a specific dress code. We could wear whatever felt comfortable as long as we were fast.
And if we weren't fast, well- we'd be off the team.
"Sorry about the fact that I'm taking so long. My stupid backpack wouldn't fit." I say, letting myself lean against the cold, maroon-colored lockers as Izzie smiled.
