Just Pretty Frosting {Jackson}

[PICKLE ABREY]

Feed Alligator, do the assignment. Granted it wasn't for a grade per-say, however Christian had strongly advised that it would be a good idea to be Michelle and reintroduce herself as such. That meant abandoning the preschool colors and simple designs of her usual clothes, dressing a little more her age and not...quite acting so spazztastic. Compose herself, no stuttering, speak clearly. There were even makeup tips on how to minimize the dramatic look of her eyes, ways to tilt her head to make the massive orbs feel less intimidating. He had assured her that she could do it--but Pickle was still nervous. No matter how much pretty wrapping she was put in, she would always be Pickle. At least, when Christian was around she wouldn't introduce herself as such. She was still trying to get used to her new-old name, and it was a bit daunting.

However, one thing hadn't changed: her baking. They were always great conversation starters...okay, well she hoped they were. Maybe this time people would actually enjoy them. So when she stepped out of her dorm room with the basket carefully about her elbow she took her deep, careful breaths and tried to remember. Shoulders back, chin up. Poised, careful. She was no awkward gazelle, she was a calculating, strong predator. There was nothing flimsy or flakey about her. Right. Right? Right.

Her blonde hair had been allowed to fall loose, and even then she had taken time on that. Carefully conditioning it to tame the frizzies, curling it and sealing it with a flexible spray so thick, round curls fall about her shoulders, frothing forward in golden waves. She looked pretty, and completely new. She had even begun to adopt a new way of thinking, but that was coming on a bit slower. These were her baby steps, and she took them by offering the cupcakes to the people along the courtyard she spotted--taking in compliments on her new clothes, and introducing herself as Michelle. Honestly, she did her best not to burst into confetti whensome of them actually bit into the cupcake right away. Before--that wouldn't have happened. Either these people didn't realize she was the awkward, bulbous eyed strange girl, or just a simple matter of clothing had changed their outlook on her.

In all fair honestly, she was hoping they didn't realize who she was. It made something deep inside of her chest bubble with anger at the simple thought that a few changes in clothes could change someone's outlook. It wasn't on the outside what mattered, it was what was on the inside. But this was high school, appearances were everything. But it didn't mean that the hatrid and anger wasn't bubbling in her chest. Actually, it was becoming so overwhelming, that with a polite smile, Pickle excused herself and very nearly stomped away. Some of the people, she remembered from before. She had an excellent memory; she remembered some of those people that were just so very nice to her had made fun of her previously. It was just the matter of clothes. All of this time, and it was because they didn't like her clothes.

The basket crunched and groaned under her fingers as her grip tightened on it. She very nearly wanted to throw the basket across the ground and stomp away from it. But the cupcakes didn't do anything. A deep breath went into her chest, clearing her mind. Breathe, calm, easy. She could very easily turn around and just go back to her dorm, and shut herself away from these jerk faces for a whi---what was that? Pickle stopped mid-turn, and braced the basket with one hand. A boy with curly hair, not too far away looking almost...sullen? Her head turned to the side slightly, watching curiously. His problems weren't her problems, she didn't have to concern herself with them. Only--that single strain of thought made her heart suddenly ache. That's not who she was. The outside packaging might have changed, but to lose herself in this...and had Christian thought the same thing, she'd probably be locked up somewhere hated by everyone, still.

So, Pickle adjusted her gait and carried herself on spindly legs towards the sullen looking boy. A hand carefully reached into the basket, and pulled forward a chocolate cupcake with frosting on top. "Chocolate chunk with mocha frosting. I have other kinds if you aren't a fan of chocolate." She said quietly, holding the cupcake daintily out towards him, before slowly taking a seat next to him on the bench, resting the basket next to his feet while she crossed one leg over the other. "It's a lovely day, what's the matter?"

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OUTFIT

[JACKSON HIRSCH]

Jackson had sent his mom the letters he had written from the past week today. Letter days for him were always black or white and never gray; either it was great because he had good news for his mom, or bad because he thought of how she was all alone back in Iowa on the farm. Even if Aura visited her sometimes (which he didn't doubt, even Jackson and her had a falling out, he knew Aura still considered Kayla Hirsch a second mother), she was still alone most of the time.

Today was a black day.

He couldn't decide if that was just because the thought of his mother all alone, reading his half-assed attempt to try and fix whatever loneliness she may have, or if it was that and the fact that he couldn't see Grace Holladay to feel better. She was volunteering somewhere today, which he didn't mind, of course, as that was one of the 74693204325780465792454789 things he loved about her, but it meant that he couldn't see her unless he volunteered with her, which he couldn't do because he had to go and send his letters.

He thought about seeing where the bros were, but he'd still probably be sullen and there was no way he'd risk his bros seeing him like this. The insults he would get, though he knew they would just be jokes, wouldn't help.

Once he got back to Baum, he sat on one of the benches in the courtyard, tired from the walk to the post office (he was out of stamps), and wondered what to do. He tried to make himself look as invisible as possible, though he was a pretty popular guy and had to wave and smile a bit at the friends who acknowledged him. Some of them were holding cupcakes, and he wondered where they got them from. A cupcake would be perfect right now, wouldn't i-

As if fate could read his mind, a girl sat next to him and was holding out a chocolate cupcake. She looked vaguely familiar, but... not how this girl should have looked.

Of course, he had heard of 'Pickle' Abrey, not that he thought of her much. He didn't know her, just knew what people said about her, and he really hated it when people gossiped about others they didn't even know behind their backs and he didn't want to involve himself in that at all. He wasn't totally innocent of course, he had been included as the subject and in the spreading of some rumours, but only about people he knew personally, and never anything completely malicious.

And what he heard about the girl was malicious, and definitely not what the girl in front of her was. Maybe it wasn't her, but he heard Pickle dressed like a first grader and stumbled awkwardly and was a bit creepy. He had seen her once or twice, but never actually came close. This girl was dressed nicely and wasn't being awkward at all, really.

This was why he didn't cae for malicious rumours.

"Oh, chocolate's brilliant, thank you," he said with a smile and carefully took the cupcake out of her hand. and turned to her as she sat down next to him. It was a nice gesture, though he didn't understand why-

Oh, that's why. Was he that obvious? "It is a very lovely day out... The weather's perfect for being, uh, outside." He took a bite of the cupcake, nearly choked on how good it was (it made sense, okay), and nodded. "This is excellent, did you make these?" He thought he had heard something about her baking.

Standard Jackson, stalling so he didn't have to be serious for just a few moments longer.

"But yeah, I guess I'm kind of down. Though this cupcake has definitely improved my day, thank you." He glanced away from her as he said that, kind of exaggerating. The cupcake did make him feel better, but he wasn't exactly 'cheered up'. He looked at his feet and back at the girl, considering opening up to her. The only one he really had for that was November, and Grace on some subjects, but that was it. He bit his lower lip as he usually did when he was pondering, then took another bite of the cupcake. If she asked him again, he'd probably tell her, but honestly, he didn't know her that well yet.

[/justify]

[PICKLE ABREY]

The look, the trying to place her face--Pickle was extremely used to it, and had learned to just brush it off, carry about doing what she was doing and let them get their fill. It only made them more nervous to stare back, and could be seen as aggressive if she called them out on it. Neither of which she wanted to do. A smile graced her face again when he thanked her, and took the cupcake.

"I did. It's a hobby of mine." She placed her elbows on her knees, and laced her fingers, and rested her cheek on her fingers while she looked at Jackson. He seemed to brush her off with the second thanks, and the vague answer. Old Pickle would have nervously scuttled away, stumbling over her feet and legs that seemed to be too lanky for her own body. But she couldn't expect that he'd spill his guts to a complete stranger. Instead, she picked her head back up and reached into the basket, pulling out another cupcakes for herself, carefully peeling back the wrapper.

"I grew up in New Orleans, right on the outskirts. My dad would catch fish in the bayou and sell them in the little local market. Our neighborhood was tiny, but the people on our street were really nice. Sometimes we'd have cookouts, drag the tables into the street and we'd all have dinner together with nothing but porchlights." Pickle grinned, nibbling on the edge of her cupcake while her eyes seemed to stare into the distance. "My mama and one of the neighbors, Miss Penny would do all the sweet baking. But one thing Miss Penny made like no other were beignets. She always knew when someone was sad, or having a bad day--she'd come over with those beignets and listen to the person just talk. She'd always say that everyone likes sweets, and it's real good for making new friends."

Pickle smiled to herself and took a bit out of her cupcakes, leaning back on the bench, stretching her legs out in front of her, and looking down at her shoes, before letting them drop back to the bench. She swallowed the mouthful of sweetness, before glancing back towards the curly haired boy. "My name's--" She paused again. Michelle? She should introduce herself as Michelle, that's what Christian would want anyway. But...he wasn't around. And she was still adjusting to the use of her actual name. "My name's Pickle." She extended her empty, boney hand towards the boy, offering a close-mouthed grin. Her chocolate cupcakes had a tendency to stick to teeth, so to prevent a chocolate covered smile, mouth remained closed. But that didn't mean any light was exempt from her happy eyes. "What's yours?"

[/b][/blockquote][/blockquote]

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OUTFIT

[JACKSON HIRSCH]

Jackson smiled. Honestly, his health didn't need any more friends with baking as a hobby, but his tastebuds disagreed. "Well, keep going, because you're excellent." He paused, thinking he ought to open up a little, and brightened up. "My girlfriend bakes, too. She's a wonderful cook. Perhaps you know her? Grace Holladay. Most beautiful girl on the planet." Oh - wait- "No offense? I guess..." He shrugged awkardly and his face and shoulders fell again. Well, you tried, Jackson. He could imagine Andie just popping a gold star sticker onto his forehead (she had literally done that before, it was kind of funny).

While she told her story, he continued munching on the cupcake, looking at her and listening intently. He never liked to ignore people when they were saying something personal like this, something from their childhood. He knew he'd be hurt if someone ignored him when he talked about Sunday dinners with both his parents, or when his mom made something not completely kosher and told him and his dad that they were like Catholics eating meat on a Friday. They were never quite so orthadox, were they?

Jackson had never tried a beignet, but he figured they were delicious and the epitome of comfort food, the way the blonde described them. Miss Penny sounded like one of those people that could get all up in your business at any point of the day and you couldn't stay mad at them.

When the story was over, Jackson was smiling and content with the picture it painted in his mind. He knew the girl wanted him to open up to her, but it was so much easier to do that when he had a name...

As if on cue, the girl announced that her name was... Pickle. So this was Pickle Abrey, the hamster, the queen of awkward turtles, someone to avoid otherwise you might catch a wide-eyed disease. He could imagine how bad those wankers would feel if they had just sat down and talked to her before listening to stupid prejudice. It made him mad, but not at Pickle, so he kept half-smiling and shook her hand without hesitation. "It's Jackson." He paused, thinking of how to start this. "I haven't been to New Orleans. It's probably much more interesting than Birmingham or Random-farm-town, Iowa." Jackson never spilled his guts in an instant, he started off slow and allowed for interjection so he wouldn't bore people with whatever he was saying.

Because Random-farm-town, Iowa was the most interesting thing ever. Yeah.

[/justify]

[PICKLE ABREY]

A laugh overtook Pickle as Jackson mentioned Grace. “No offense taken.” She reassured. No, he hadn’t called her ugly or even made fun of her. She never expected herself to reign anywhere near beautiful people. But it was expected for someone’s loved one to be above all else. If anything it was sweet and charming. He did brighten for that moment, before it wilted in awkward shrugs and a different expression. Her smile fell as well as her brows knitted together.

“Nice to meet you, Jackson.” She reached into the basket, pulling out another cupcake as he finally started to speak. Her large eyes rounded on him as he started to open up. Almost. A little. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m biased—because I love it. But I’ve never been anywhere other than Louisiana and Mississippi. Oh, and of course New York.” She nodded, before looking back at him. “Farm towns are the best, I think. The people are more genuine.” Easing him on, letting him know it was alright. In a way, Jackson was reminding her of a bunny. Shy, timid. Needing just a little bit of coaxing.

Most people, she would assume would have just left by now. Not taking such an interest on why a random boy was quite so sad, or so off. Hell, she didn’t even know him. Maybe this was a regular speed for him. Maybe this was normal. But Christian gave her a mission—change people’s perspective on her. She could have done just that, and walked away. But the person she was, the Pickle deep down—was genuinely worried about her classmate. Taking a bite of her cupcake, she filled her mouth so she wouldn’t be tempted to yammer on—and looked back at Jackson as she waited for him to continue.

After all, what was the point of changing people’s minds if you didn’t make them your friend? As she waited for him to talk, she tried to picture him as a farm-boy. Her head tilted slightly. Maybe he was the sweet type of country boy—the one that brought goods out to the market, helped pull in the horses. Or maybe he’d surprise her. People were always a mystery—look at them on the outside and your mind makes up a story. Your mind plays a trick, makes you think they’re something just by the way they look. And then get them talking, and they’d unravel their secrets. They’d surprise you. People did it to her—read her on the outside when her inside was completely different.

And that’s the joy of meeting new people, She thought to herself, as she waited for Jackson to begin his story.

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OUTFIT