FTRS/RAR One-Shots

Alicyn-High School AU

Hey guys! So this is really really bad, but I had to rush it because of time issues. This is a modern high school Alicyn AU I am doing as part of @RandomWeirdOne (pinterest)'s FTRS ship weeks! If u wanna participate all info can be found under the pinterest board FTRS/RAR FANDOMS UNITE! under @localjillystan (me)'s account. also this is my fanart again tehe :) Happy reading!

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Today, by Jocelyn's standards, had been a complete waste of everything.

Harlow woke her up in the morning, irrationally insisting that Jocelyn get up and attend school, despite all of Jocelyn's protesting. Why should she attend school that day? She had no tests, no exams, and no quizzes. It was a quiet day. She could skip, call in sick.

Harlow had none of it. She forced some rather burnt toast on her little sister and ferried her into the car. Harlow knew better than to allow Jocelyn to walk-if left alone to her own devices, she would inevitably gravitate toward the chemistry lab she interned at and spend the day there instead of in class discussing history and literature.

At least, Jocelyn thought, as she grumbled out of the car, tossing a black backpack over her shoulder, she had advanced chemistry today.

FTRS was a private school for 'troubled children', as the principal Mrs. Flora claimed. Jocelyn's annoying english seatmate, Oliver Funklehouse, insisted that it was just a way of keeping delinquent kids out of the mainstream school system. As frustrating as he was, Jocelyn found it difficult to disagree with him.

She marched through the doors, bumping thoughtlessly into other students as she did. A few students dropped books or pencils in the shuffle, along with either a glare or fearful glance at her passing figure.

Today, she had outfitted herself in a formidable sleeveless purple shirt and black jeans, along with black vans and a matching choker. It was a confident outfit, one that made her feel proud and comfortable, something that could slightly dim the horror of Economics class. As she made her way toward the door, she felt a sudden bite of anger. Gilly.

Gilly Cobbler, Jocelyn's arch-nemesis. She frowned as she saw Jocelyn, casting a look at the boy next to her. Jax. Gilly adjusted her shirt, pulling the blue fabric over her jeans. "Nice outfit," she said, "bet your sister wore that when the cops found her."

Jocelyn shook with rage. Harlow had recently experienced a stint in prison in reminsice of her earlier deliquency days. The officers let her off with a warning, but not before the whole school knew about it. "At least I can afford it," she shot back. "Your snivelling little family and your broke dad probably had to scrap together for months to get you that second-hand getup."

Jax's smile slipped off his face. "What?"

"I'm not gonna say this again," Gilly said, "We all know you were working with your sister to get that shooter in. The principal should have expelled you, but he didn't. Don't throw threats around with me, because I will fight you."

"I'll deck you right here and now," Jocelyn said.

Jax yelped in protest, but soon the two girls were on the ground, bashing each other with fists and feet.

Anyways, here Jocelyn was. In detention. No big surprise. Principal Flora was very disappointed in her. Gilly had landed in detention as well, but it had been Mrs. Cleo's idea to stagger their detention times so as to avoid further conflict.

She looked around her, at the hard metal chairs lined with rows of people. She reached into her bag, thinking maybe she could get some homework done, when the door opened and she walked in.

She was as small and pretty as a button, with a round face and bright pink cheeks. Her hair spun around her in lush ringlets, and she wore a dark gold shirt with flats and a pair of jeans. The mayor's daughter, Allison Grace. In FTRS! And in detention, no less. What on earth was she doing here?

Allison Grace turned in her card and sat beside Jocelyn, withdrawing a neat pink notebook from her immaculate book bag. Jocelyn stared at her as she began making perfectly rounded notes, composing what looked like sheet music. Jocelyn couldn't help herself. "What are you in for?"

Allison Grace looked up. "Oh, hello. Who are you?"

"Jocelyn," Jocelyn said stiffly.

"I'm AG." the girl smiled, as if instilled with liquid sunshine. Jocelyn shuddered inwardly. "What are you doing here?"

"I"m in detention," Jocelyn said, rather roughly. "I got in a fight. What are you doing here?"

"Oh," AG said, dusting pencil shavings off her page. "Me too."

Jocelyn's eyes went wide as saucers. "With who?"

"Josh Tryan," AG replied distractedly, making more marks on her design, "he kicked Gladys's puppy. I can't stand animal abuse."

Jocelyn blinked. "Did you win?"

AG smiled, and for the first time, Jocelyn saw a spark of mischeif behind her childish facade. "Yes."

Maybe there was more to Allison Grace than met the eye.