Don't Stand So Close To Me [Angel!]

[bandersnatch]

David hated the first day of school. He always had. And as this was his first day as an actual teacher, he was starting to hate this one even more. Student's brains were shut off, and he wasn't going to have it. Just because he taught electives didn't mean that he wouldn't get right down to business, or allow his students to slack off. It had been as such all day. Introduce himself, in a friendly manner to establish a nice repertoire with his students. "Hello class. My name is David Thorne. As I won't be calling any of you by your last names, I don't expect you to call me by mine. David is fine."[/b] Big smile. One that was returned warmly by the girls in class. As the day went on, it seemed that word had travelled about the 'hot' new young teacher. Regardless of how attractive David was though, it was simply the fact that he was, in fact, young.

The worst part about that particular rumour was the students response. Emily Smith in the front row had undone the top few buttons on her shirt, showing off her ample cleavage. Taryn Weller's skirt was far shorter than regulation. It seemed that Bethany Miller had just applied a fresh coating of makeup. Tiffany Daniels was rummaging through her purse, showing off the pack of cigarettes that she had someone else buy her. All of them were attempting to catch his eye, all of them trying to rush their aging process, to appear older. Cultivating fantasies of him telling them that they were so mature.

He fought back a bitter smirk as he fantasized telling them that they were better off dressing like Sabrina Johnston. She put no effort into her wardrobe, or the way she looked. She looked like a normal 16 year old girl, and it intrigued him. No make up, hair in a ponytail, flashing her braces in a warm smile. There was a sweet innocence to her, and he just liked it. He shook his head, and started in on the syllabus.

"Alright then. Now that enough of us are here, I should be able to start. This course deals with the inner workings of the mind. What makes everyone tick? This course will cover everything from Social Behaviors, to different brain disorders, to sexual perversions-"[/b]

At that moment, The door to the class flew open with a bang. Some attention seeking late comer, no doubt. David's face arranged itself into a scowl. Fucking first days.

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

OUTFIT OF A LATE ANGEL.

Sitting, basically spread eagle, in front of what her schedule told her was an elective psychology class was not exactly what Angel Dihanie had had in mind for the day. But, there she was, wincing as her hot pink striped shorts was on display for the class to see. Not that many attempted to avert their eyes. Some even craned their neck for a better look. They wouldn't see anything but black and pink stripes, but come on. A little class boys.

Not that that was her exact area of focus at the moment.

Angel's attention was more completely focused on her coccyx, which stung REALLY REALLY bad. "Owhow-ow... My butt." She whined quietly, through her cheeked lemon lollie, eyes screwed up in stingy pain from behind her Lennon-like glasses. Her skateboard rolled lazily, bumping into the teachers desk, almost as if fleeing from the daily abuse from it's mistress. Looking up over her beanie flattened bangs, she saw the latest teacher that would have to suffer through her this semester. "Uhh... psychology with Mr. Thorne?" She inquired, face forming an innocent little smirk.

Getting up gingerly, Angel brushed off her shirt-dress-thing, tail bone still vibrating with pain down her backside. She looked like a mess. But Angel always looked like a mess. Under dressed, over accessorized. Like how a child always imagined dressing when they got grown up. Grunge chic. She sported four pairs of earrings, which climbed up the cartilage of her ear like ivy, the silver roach earrings tangling into her thick black hair. The hair itself looked vaguely combed through, and the only real look of maintained-ness was the peacock feather that was blended in off to the side. Three rings on one hand, bangles on the opposite wrist. Colorful tights which clashed with the damn combat boots, that had proven to be her undoing.

Note to self, trying to balance on a skateboard while opening a door a little to fast... not smart.

A little sheepish, with an edge of cheek, she waved to the class, before approaching the desk, and thereby the teacher. The teacher who was in the way of her and her skateboard. "Angel Dihanie..." She said, jabbing her chest (which was almost slightly noticeably without a bra as usual) with her thumb. "Present." With a big smile, she tried to figure a way to maneuver around the Sir, without bending over to reveal more to the class.

Heck.

Holding her hands up for him not to move, she put her leg in between his, careful not to brush him any. With her foot, she rolled the skateboard back in front of her, stepping down on its end to make it point up. Grabbing it, and quite impressed with her lack of bending over to accomplish it's retrieval, Angel gave a small grin. "Uh, right, yeah, that was my bad." Angel wondered if she was going to have a detention.

Again.

There were a few possibilities, after all. Disrupting class, bringing a skateboard to class, being late. All of the above. She was just sorta at the mercy of her teacher's temperament.

Sucking on the lollie, Angel turned to the seat, a small groan crossing her as the only available seat seemed to be right up front. Fiddlesticks. Glancing over her shoulder, she started to head to what she assumed was going to be her doomed seat. "I'll just..." Moving quickly, she sat down, earning a few chuckles from her classmates. "You were saying?"

[bandersnatch]

His scowl softened immediately when the distraction made itself completely clear. The site of the girl landing flat on her ass was endearing in a way that made him almost smirk. At the same time, he was desperately trying to keep his eyes from wandering down to the dangerous flash of hot pink that stood out from her black shirt and mocha skin. This girl. She was gorgeous. She had so much 'idontgiveafuck' attitude about her, it was captivating. She stood, slightly wincing, which made him worry about her tailbone, it looked like she landed on it pretty hard.

And then he remembered. Teacher. Right. He wasn't supposed to be worried about her. He was supposed to be very cross with her for causing such a disruption. He cut her off on her way to retrieve her skateboard. "Ah, Miss Dihanie. I received a warning about you this morning." Which was true. Apparently, the previous art teacher had had to quit because of this Angel girl's antics, explaining why he also had to teach two photography classes a day. "Let's hope I can handle you better than Miss Parker could." Poor choice of words. With her so close, and gesturing to her chest, he started imagining all the various ways he could 'handle' her.

Fuck. Cross. Cross. Cross. He was cross. He was angry. She was being disruptive and WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE DOING WITH HER LEG? He couldn't have moved if he tried. He was utterly frozen with shock. This girl was hardly an angel. She was a demon, dragged up from the seventh circle of hell to be his undoing. His own personal demon, there to expose him for the sexual pervert he was. How fucking stupid had he been. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to handle this job, and this lollipop sucking siren stuck in the front row was perfect proof.

He should have given her detention, because the other students were staring incredulously. If he didn't give her detention, the other students would think they could get away with murder. And he wouldn't exactly be upset at having to spend an hour alone with her. WHICH WAS WHY GIVING HER DETENTION WAS OUT OF THE QUESTION. Then again. Who the hell was she to dictate who he was? He might have thought her attractive, might have noticed the way she sauntered into her seat, and the little mischievous half smirk that flitted across her lips. But she was just a girl. And he was the one in control. Not only of her, but of himself and his urges too. He could do this. He was her teacher! He could handle spending an hour with her. This demon would not get the better of him. He crossed his arms, and smirked.

"I was just going over the class syllabus. I'll update you on everything you missed so far this Friday in detention."

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

Angel couldn't help the guilty grin that crossed her lips, at the mention of Miss Parker. Not because she was particularly proud. Sometimes, Angel's little pranks just ran away from her. But she didn't really regret it, because that went against Angel's mantra on life: Regret Nothing. Be a rotating chicken, Baby. She did it, it happened, nothing could be done. In her defense, she really hadn't known that cockroaches could breed THAT FAST.

The mischievous little scamp, last year, had put a container full of cockroaches in her old teachers desk. The cruel little spinster had accused Angel of something she HADN'T EVEN DONE, and then suspended her for it. Anyway, the point was, there was no sign of her little buggy friends on Monday. At least until the next Monday, when Miss Parker investigated a strange hissing noise in her desk and found it filled with roaches. The woman had a panic attack, decided that her meager wages were not worth all the bullhonkey that she was going through, and quit.

"I'm sure you'll figure out some way to wrangle me in, Teach." Angel spoke, with an obvious false confidence. No one- man, animal, vegetable, or mineral- could wrangle Angel in. With a cheeky grin, she exchanged glances with the good Mr. Thorne, who she was sure would try. They all tried, especially the greenies. So filled with... What do you call it? Gusto? Looking down at the syllabus sitting all prettily on her desk, she looked down, grabbing the key chain of baby sharpies from within it, slipping her sunglasses off.

As she began to doodle her little drawing of neon bright, toonish, bugs, she nodded in acceptance as he assigned her attention. There was a quiet ohhh that circled around the class, followed by a few snickers. Honestly, it was like breathing at this point.

Tapping her lemon lollie on her tongue, she remembered something. "Uh, Teach? About that? I already have detention on Friday... and... well... everyday but today this week." She shrugged. "First day and all, no one wants to deal with the detentions on the absolute beginning of this shiny new year." With an only half serious grimace, she stared with her round brown eyes at her teacher.

Maddie Daryll, who was in no way, shape, or form starting the Angel-Dihanie-Fanclub, snorted disdainfully. "Defective."

"Well dang Teach, you must be a heck of a Shrinking Teacher. Mads's got me all figured out!" Angel quipped back, her grin a little cocky, her eyes back to focused on her doodles as if she didn't care that she was just put in a nutshell.

Instead of telling herself how Madison Daryll's opinion of arose no feeling other than general boredom, Angel applied her focus on something less droll. Whatever was going on with this syllabus, which was becoming increasingly less legible as the sharpy ink bled into it? No. Her week was almost completely consumed by detention, but the teachers had no baring on her evenings. Her and Wes were due for an adventure.

Eyes looking out the window, she stopped her doodling, her attention drifting out the window. They should start the school year in November. After it stopped looking like summer outside. It was so beautiful out, it seemed almost criminal to be stuck under these florescent lights of doom.

Ugh.

Look at that squirrel.

Nomming its acorn like it was all awesome.

Being a squirrel would be awesome...

As she mused on the epicness of that being a squirrel, Angel twirled the lollie in her mouth, barely registering that she was still in class. After detention tonight, her and Wes wold have to go and do something. Something awesome. Possibly involving squirrels...

Yeah.

[WESTON BRODERICK]

LE OUTFIT

Late again.

He hadn't meant to make a habit of it by any means--in fact, this time it was entierly accidental. But there was only so many times someone could hang out with Angel and not show up late every once in a while, even when not with her. Wes walked the hall slowly, pass clutched in his hand, trying to decide whether or not he was looking forward to this particular class. It was an easy enough answer; Angel was there, so it would at least be bearable.

God, her voice carried...Wes couldn't help smiling to himself as he neared the door of the classroom, equally as delighted as exhasperated that Angel was already testing her boundaries. Usually, they were minute. Wes tended to be given a bit more leway despite his involvement in most of her schemes, simply because he was the quieter one, the one that actually turned in his assignments more than ten times over the course of the entire year. He lingered for a moment just outside the door, unable to control the rolling of his eyes as he heard his best friend issued yet another detention. This had to be a new record of some sort. No doubt she'd brag about it later--or at least pretend to complain.

Wes entered the classroom with significantly less gusto than the girl before him. He adjusted the way his backpack slung over his right shoulder, doing nothing about the aviators still over his eyes as he thrust the blue slip out in the direction of the man at the front of the room. Obviously the teacher--he was young. Looked like he didn't want to be here any more than the rest of them did. "Sorry I'm late," he spoke soflty, although there was no trace of timidness. Without waiting for a real response, he turned back towards the rows of desks in hopes of spotting--oh. As if he had to guess. Angel always ended up front and center, one way or another.

He offered her a small smile before glancing towards the boy sitting next to her. Definitely enjoying the way her legs looked with that shirt-that-wasn't-quite-a-dress leaving so much out in the open. Instantly, his face hardened. If that little pervert thought he was keeping that seat for the rest of the class period...well, he had another thing coming. Eyes narrowed to slits, Wes stood in front of the boy without so much as a sound, head tilted slightly downward so as to better glare. He felt a slight twinge of guilt after the five second mark, seeing the way he was obviously squirming. Hell, Wes didn't even know the kid. Did that make it better, or worse? Still, he didn't break eye contact, didn't shift his weight, milking the fact that he was standing and Whatshisname wasn't for all it was worth until finally, inevitably, the kid caved. They usually did.

Offering the shrimp a slightly apologetic smile as he vacated the desk with a squeak, Wes slid into his newfound seat easily, dropping the backpack on the floor and removing the sunglasses in an overdramatic motion he honestly hadn't thought he'd be able to pull off. Even if he'd failied, though, Angel would probably have laughed. He didn't mind being laughed at by her. Not about things like that. With a little half-shrug, Wes turned to look at his best friend, smile breaking across his face before glancing back at the teacher. No doubt he'd have noticed the two of them were obviously close friends. It would have taken an idiot not to; and besides, the whole class knew it anyway. Wes and Angel weren't exactly low-profile buddies. He twirled the glasses around a few times, apparently more interested in the black blur they made as they spun than anything else in the room. Except perhaps the girl sitting next to him; Wes couldn't help but look up at her again as he settled down into the seat at a comfortable slouch. Maybe this class wouldn't be so bad after all.

[bandersnatch]

This girl. This Angel girl. He could see his world caving in before him at the expense of this impossible girl. Everything about her screamed both innocence and maturity. The perfect, deadly combination that turned David Thorne into a puddle of mush. He narrowed his gaze on her. Her words made him nervous. Did she want him to wrangle her in? Did he want to wrangle her in? He licked his lips nervously, a tick he had developed in College. He had heard f her sick fascination with bugs. He didn't mind insects all that much, and arachnids were fine. He wasn't weak. Well he was, but not about such trivial things like that.

"Uh, Teach? About that? I already have detention on Friday... and... well... everyday but today this week. First day and all, no one wants to deal with the detentions on the absolute beginning of this shiny new year."

Of course. Of course that was the case. He had had fair warning about Angel. Not the warning he would have needed of course, but still. Angel Dihanie was a bad seed. Held the Baum Academy record for most punishments in one school year/semester/week. He sighed heavily, to the students it was a picture of annoyance at Angel, but truly the sigh was over the internal battle in his head. Of course, he needed time before he was alone in a room with this girl. He wasn't even sure he should ever be alone in a room with this girl, but so far, nobody else had earned a detention. But still, his authority needed to be established. He had heard too many horror stories of teachers fresh out of college, broken into madness by their students, simply for being too much of a friend, and not a disceplinarian. No. There was nothing for it. "Very well then. I'll see you after school tonight, Miss Dihanie."[/b] He rather enjoyed the way her name lilted off his tongue in a peculiar French way. He could only imagine other things...

No.

After shooting a warning look at Madison and Angel, he went back to business. Which was becoming increasingly difficult as he watched Angel twirl her sucker around her mouth. No. Stop it. He cleared his throat, and turned away, walking slowly around the desk until he was behind it. "Now, I know. I'm the new guy. The youngest teacher here at Baum. And I want to be your friend. I really do. But, I won't tolerate any more outbursts-"

The door opened. Jesus what now? He looked up at the newcomer, and raised a brow. All the students on his roster were now present. Who was this kid? The hairs on the back of David's neck prickled, he had a feeling that this kid was going to be...problematic. The blue slip of paper told him all he needed to know. Weston Broderick, new student due to schedule swapping. Oh. Not another interruption. David felt slight remorse for the sudden hostility to the student. He was just annoyed by the introduction of Angel, and his immediate...attraction to her. Damn him.

"Welcome to the class, Westo-" He looked up from the slip in his hands to notice that the kid was just standing there, mean-mugging the shit out of poor shrimpy Benedict Johnson. Ben quickly jumped up from his seat and snagged one in the back. Looking satisfied, Weston just sat, giving a knowing smile to Angel. Oh God. He was her boyfriend. Of course. Somehow the knowledge simply made his attraction to her that much more powerful.

He shook his head. "Great. Now we're all situated, we can begin. Midterms are the first week of October, and then we'll begin our work on Sexual psychology. You'll need your parents or guardians to sign this waver stating that you can take part in the discussions. If your parents don't sign it, you'll have to spend the class period in the Library, doing alternate assignments."[/b] There was a collective groan from the students who were sure that their parents wouldn't let them discuss sex. "Hey, I don't make the rules. If I did, I'd throw that one out. This is a world where children dress like prostitutes and grannies wear fuck-me boots. I'd say you're all old enough to discuss it maturely." He smirked as his words hit the class. Since he had established that he was 'The-Cool-Teacher-that-treated-you-like-an-adult' the chances of any outbursts were minimal. Simple Psychology.

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

There was something very rewarding about looking into an adults face and seeing them become completely flustered. Of course, being that Angel was a student, and that the good Mr. Thorne was a teacher, she had no actual idea what he was flustered about. And he tried to contain the flusteredness, which made the fact that Angel could make note of it even better for her. She nodded flippantly, eyes still on the squirrel yonder, at the demand that she attend detention after class.

It was all so very automatic for her, attending detention. What would her punishment be? At this wonder, her brown eyes focused on the teacher, Angel's stare penetrating. Lines? Assisting with grading papers? A long discussion on how she needed to prepare herself to be a good, functioning, member of society. No, he'd want to make an impact. New Teacher's always needed to swing their dings about, make sure the rest of the school knew they were not to be messed with. He'd want Angel to go out and tel tales of big, bad, Mr. Thorne. He could be your best friend, or your worst enemy.

Before she could wonder further, the door opened. Eyes leaving her squirrel friend, Angel looked to see who the latest intruder was. The face coming through the door put a grin of mischief and joy on little Angel's face, and it spread in a pretty little curl across each cheek. Wes! Wes was in her class. Well, at least class life could become interesting.

Wes, in class, had two effects on Angel. Either he made her behave, and the two were simply left to their own devices. Chittering and chattering, small discussions with hushed tones. It almost never was on the subject that the teacher wanted them to talk about. Usually it was Angel doing most of the talking, unless they were passing notes. Sometimes paper foot ball would ensue. Then there was the other effect. Where Wes became her partner in crime. Angel was free to express any whim, and Wes almost never said no. Sometimes she would simply surprise- as Angel loved a surprise- and speak with her eyes. Look at the chalkboard, wink and nod, silently requesting he draw a dirty little ditty or something.

Angel's smile managed to grow wider, when Wes stared down the person. Everyone in school had this idea of Weston Broderick. Assuming things. Wes rarely smiled when at school- though he did sneak her one as he sat down, and received a small wink and smirk in return. But because he rarely smiled, and his skin was so pale, and his hair and eyes were so dark, the world assumed he was a bad boy. That, because he associated with Angel, and smoked ciggies, and skateboarded, and would occasionally play guitar in the courtyard that he was a delinquent. As Maddie Daryll put it: a defective.

This couldn't be farther from the truth. Left to his own devices, Wes was a sweetheart. He did his work, he showed up to class on time. He was intelligent, and thought in depth about every word he said. Wes was Angel's anchor, God love him. And though sometime she'd wonder why he enjoyed being around her so much (as his quiet disposition greatly countered her rough and tumble), she knew no one was quiet up to snuff with his job.

"Alright Jack?" Angel asked, her voice quiet. Mr. Thorne went on, the nice little first day for teacher speech. Sucking on her lollie, she offered the teacher a bit of her attention. The taste of lemon tingled her lips, her chin resting in her palm lazily. The introduction that Mr. Thorne gave was rather cute, in its way. Angel rarely cursed, but never minded it. And the fact that a teacher just did so sent a wave of tittering giggles across the classroom. But not from Angel, who stared at him blankly.

Picking out the parental note from the syllabus, she held it up to Wes, eyebrow raising, grin telling him that she found this to be quite the joke. "Isn't he so cool, Weston?" Angel stage whispered. "A teacher who cusses! I feel like I can really trust him." It was obvious she was play acting, that this was a big joke. Smirking at the teacher, she made it clear that her feelings were not meant to be a secret. Quickly she wrote the name A. Dihanie on the parental signature line, sliding it up the face of her desk for the teacher to take. The last time her Father signed a permission slip, Angel had been twelve. He condoned her signing for him, as he was a busy man. Thus, she'd become quite good at signing his name. "There you are, Teach. Happy happy?"

Hrm, what sort of brown was that squirrel?

[WESTON BRODERICK]

Wes didn't like him already. The way he carried himself, how he seemed to be trying to obnoxiously hard to keep the balance between "cool" and stern. It was a bit pathetic, really. If he hadn't looked so downright pleased with himself, Wes might have gotten up and given him a consoling pat on the back--or thought more about it, anyway. Acknowledging the teacher's greeting with little more than a nod in his general direction, Wes went back to the twirling of his glasses. He never corrected them when they called him Weston. Although he didn't particularly condone the use of his full name, teachers usually shortened it to Wes anyway or forgot all-together, what with him speaking an average of two words a week and all.

This class would probably be different, though. They usually were with Angel. Either because of their own private conversations or small, mischevious antics, or by wrecking some sort of havoc spawned from Angel's diabolical mind. Either way, when he was in a class with Angel, they always remembered his name. And it was always shortened to Wes anyhow. Apparently "Wes and Angel" flowed off the tongue a bit better than "Weston and Angel" in the staff of Baum's general opinion.

The teacher's voice was reduced to a low, bothersome buzzing int he back of Wes's mind the second Angel spoke. He sat up a bit straighter, turning his head to look at her with a smile and a shrug. "Better than I'd be in Chemistry," he admitted, happier than ever at the office for making their scheduling blunder. Voice quiet enough to be semi-discreet, he continued. "And you, Sally? I miss anything exciting?" her getting detention hardly counted as news, but knowing Angel there could very well have been something incredibly interesting going on in this first five minutes of class he'd been absent for.

Leaning back into his seat, Wes turned to face the teacher just in time to catch the end of his spiel about permission slips. He sighed. Fingers running their way through his hair, he removed the slip with his other hand, giving it a quizzical once-over before glancing back up at the man blabbering about what a great teacher he was going to be, eyebrows raised. It sure seemed as though he was trying awful hard to convince himself of that fact, in Wes's opinion. Especially with the swearing.

Turning towards the girl beside him once again, Wes couldn't help but chuckle at the act. Angel was amusing, no doubt about that, even when she was looking trouble square in the eyes. He cracked a smile and nodded, responding with a far more pathetic, infinately quieter stage-whisper, "Not just any swear, Sal. That was the f-bomb," he nodded a few times, eyes wide in what was apparently supposed to be shock. Had anyone else initated the thing, Wes would have kept quiet. Laughed to himself, turned back to the teacher, overall remaining silent, not disruptive in the slightest.

He watched as Angel scrawled her father's name across the sheet. Having known what was coming the moment she'd whipped out a pen, Wes hunched forward a bit in his seat, fist pressed up against his lips as he grinned, trying not to crack up. He turned to look out the window, pretending to take a sudden interest in the squirrel perched on the ledge in hopes that it would cease the urge to give his best friend a high-five. Already, he could tell this was going to be that class.

[bandersnatch]

The class tittered, most of the students taking the bait. The girls who had gone through such great lengths to impress him were now giggling uncontrollably, as though he was the funniest human on the planet. A few slackers in the back were hi fiving, because this was obviously gonna be the 'cool' class. He was pretty pleased with himself.

"Isn't he so cool, Weston? A teacher who cusses! I feel like I can really trust him."
"Not just any swear, Sal. That was the f-bomb,"[/color]

Of course. A normal student hearing that their teacher spoke to them on their level would react with glee, would make them more excited for the class. Subconsciously, it would make them pay more attention, there by making better grades. Actually learning something. But then again, that was a normal student. So of course, he should have expected dissent from the two misfits in the front row. He scowled, annoyed, and having that distinct feeling of unworthiness he used to get when cheerleaders used to make fun of him back in High School. He watched, torn between embarrassment and interest, as Angel stood, sauntered her way up to his desk, and slammed the forged signature down. David forced his eyes downward as she made her way back to her seat, staring at the fake signature like it was a lifeline.

He sighed, long and drawn out, before looking back at the class. "Okay, look. Today is my first day teaching. I love Psychology, I love people. I like relating to people. I'd like to see you all as equals. I'll talk to you like I talk to my friends. But, if it goes unappreciated..."[/b] he shrugged, picking up a stack of papers from the desk. "I won't waste my time. So, you can all thank Angel and Weston for the absolutely staggering amount of classwork I'm assigning you right now."[/b] He started passing back packets to the collective groans of the class. "That. Is a list of 150 vocabulary words pertaining to psychology. The definitions are in the back of your textbook, and if you don't finish, it's homework for tomorrow."[/b] He sat at his desk, a tiny smirk on his lips.

[ANGEL DIHANIE]

Angel looked over at Wes, her chocolate brown eyes radiating her impish nature and amusement with her best friend. Her Clyde, her Jack, her Wes. Despite the tittering before, when she and Wes spoke, a heavy silence fell over the classroom, as they awaited the good Mr. Thorne's reaction. Even Angel was left in anticipation, watching him closely, twisting the lollipop in her mouth. It was near a nub now, which was unfortunate.

The tension in the room became even more so apparent, as David Thorne made she and Wes the least liked people in the room. But Angel did not mind it any. Her smile grew and twisted, as she locked eyes with her teachers. But when she murmured, it was to Wes, and quiet enough that only he would hear. "I don't think he likes us, Jack..." It was a hushed, wondering tone, with which she spoke, smile growing. But her eyes were those of a challenger, ready to meet her foe.

Her eyes went momentarily to the packet, which was all to be completed as a punishment for her and Wes's petulance. Around her she could feel the scowls burn into her at all angles and edges. As if it were to make it better. All Angel had done was make a comment, it was Mr. Thorne who decided to assign this ghastly work. But Angel didn't seem to worried about it, as her eyes rebounded back up at the teacher. Her teeth cracked into the rest of the lollie, cleaning it off the stick. Carefully, she tore the top sheet from the packet, and began to fold it into a little box. She hummed softly, as she folded, not enough to stop any of her classmates from their work, but enough to amuse herself.

Enough to irritate Mr. Thorne.

Angel was an unyielding little misfit, and even she knew it. No, she was not so delusional as to think what she did wasn't wrong. But what is the line there, if not to be tested and tip toed. Who would make a line, if not to tempt people to cross it. Heck, if there were no lines at all, Angel would have nothing to fight against. Anarchy! Anarchy! Anarchy!

Putting her lollie stick into the folded box, Angel smiled at her handiwork. Tearing off another page, she folded it as to make it a perfect square instead of rectangle. As she licked the edge- making her want a joint in the worst way- she grinned at Mr. Thorne, eyes round and innocent, as if unaware of her current infractions. Still, with a sideways glance to Wes, it was obvious she was well aware.

Nimbly, she started folding a paper crane, working with great diligence. It was not particularly time consuming, and in five minutes, she held up the finished work. Facing it's little folded face at Wes, she cocked it a little to the side. "Wah." She said, mimicking a noise that sounded more penguin than crane. With a smirk, she set it down, wondering what to make next. Perhaps a cootie catcher?

But her eyes caught her teacher's, and a small knowing smirk came to her lips. Cootie catchers, especially for girls who paid little attention in class, were easy to handle. So, defiant til the end, Angel could multitask the stare down with the folding. Still in a low, private, voice as before, Angel spoke to Wes. "This should make an interesting semester, don't you think, Jackie boy?" She inquired, licking the edge of the paper, to once again make it a square and not a rectangle. Her eyes never left David, as she spoke. "I'm thinking a bet is in order."

She had decided, right then, that she would continue the stare down until the end of class. And then, well then, her detention would begin. Last hour of the day. Angel wondered what trouble she'd get herself into, during the detention. Certainly something her and Wes could laugh about during a joint, when she was cut loose. "I bet..." Her voice lowered, making sure it was only for Wes to hear. Not even those sitting directly behind her would be able to her but a mumbly little hum. "After a year with me, he'll quit."

Tearing her eyes from Throne, she looked at Wes, grin completely spread as far as it would go across her face. The idea of a new project, that put a rush through her. It would be an impressive feat, to get a brand new teacher to quit. They were the stubborn ones, after all. Fresh out of the University, ready to change some lives. But Angel was sure she could manage.

Looking back to the teacher, her smile shrank down to a more casual grin. But still, her eyes had an intensity about them. She finished off the cootie catcher, and tapped her lips thoughtfully, trying to think of what to make next.

[WESTON BRODERICK]

Wes couldn’t help but smile to himself; a sly smile, hidden beneath the dark swoop of his hair. God, Angel was brilliant. How she did it, he had no idea—he’d never had any—but it was admirable, that much was for sure. Ordinarily, he might have been a bit annoyed at how she was acting (Oh, who was he kidding? He’d given up on that ages ago; it’d never worked, anyway), but this…this was an exception. Or rather, this teacher was an exception. Wes couldn’t help it and he didn’t really want to bother dissecting what little information he had. All he knew was that he loathed him, quite possibly even more than he’d loathed the boy in who’d tried to kiss Angel behind that tree in the third grade. In third grade, all he’d had to do was give the other boy that cold, unsettling glare from across the classroom for a good week or so (after breaking his finger trying to punch him, but that was, again, beside the point) and the problem had gone away. Just like that.

It was different now. He could feel it. And, well, either way, maybe it wasn’t even a problem. Maybe he was just being stupid, and hating the teacher for assigning the impromptu shit ton of unnecessary work he wouldn’t even grade later on. They never even glanced at it again, most of the time. Being best friends with Angel, Wes had had countless experiences like this one, and he’d always redeemed himself in his teacher’s eyes later on. This time, however, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Or that it was even possible.

“Do most?” was all he said in response to Angel’s statement, a shrug and a small smile in her direction following the softly spoken words. He took the packet with a glare in David’s direction, slightly more defiant than usual, perhaps due to the presence of Angel. She did tend to do that to him.

Still, her effects reached only so far. While Angel chose to tear off the front page of her packet and construct origami, Wes merely chuckled under his breath and flipped open to the beginning of the list of vocab. Perhaps…he glanced once at the text book, then back at the paper, then to the textbook again…maybe just this once. After all, it wasn’t as if he and Mr. Thorne had started off on the right foot to begin with, was it? Just a bit more messing wouldn’t hurt. And something told him this guy deserved it, anyhow. Wes prided himself in being, if nothing else, an excellent judge of character.

So, he set to work immediately on the vocabulary list, although instead of defining the words, he doodled. They were the sort of scribbles that would have amused Angel immensely had they been put up on the board, as he sometimes did per her request, and decidedly more profane than Wes chose to be on a daily basis. Still, he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he drew, angling the paper towards Angel in the event that she had any suggestions. So engrossed was he (as was usual, once he really got something started) that he offered little more than a nod and a “Mhmm,” in Angel’s direction as she spoke, although it wasn’t uncharacteristic in the least.

He was listening, alright. The glance up to the teacher’s desk and back to his best friend at mention of abet was enough to make that clear. Slowly, a grin spread across his face as he put his pencil back down on the desk. “You’re kidding, right? Six months,” he held his hand out for her to shake, sealing the deal. Glancing back to Mr. Thorne, the grin fell slightly into a colder sort of stare. God, he hoped he was right.