Nothing But a Bully {Silas}

[PICKLE ABREY]

Everything was topsy turvey--then again, that's how Pickle typically seemed. Topsy-turvey, unbalanced on her knobby knees. Awkward and strange. How things could be so different--she'd never imagine. In New Orleans she belonged, no one looked at her strange. It wasn't terrible living on the outskirts of the French Quarter--it was within walking distance of her house. The way she could move in the crowds without ever touching somebody, the way the city seemed to breathe her, to fill her with life. Passing by shops and resturaunts, waving at random people, talking to strangers on the street, watching the artists in Jefferson Square. New York wasn't TOO different--but everyone here seemed busy. A little more superficial. Like a baby New Orleans.

But Pickle felt out of her skin. For one night she felt fine, with Tyler. Her lips felt different after that, fresher, newer. Almost like someone else's. She had changed, but only on the inside. It was the outside that still remained gangly, awkward and weird. Her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked down at her phone. Her thumb ran over the screen, where a picture of her and Tyler took up her wall paper. Where did they stand? Of course--there was still that but of RJ that made her heart thrum faster. But Tyler was a safety, a warm comfort. Like a favorite blanket. The picture had been them with their cheeks pressed together, crossed eyes, tongues out. A funny face, one that resulted in laughter.

But even looking at it, Pickle had a hard time smiling. It was...strange. Around Tyler, she didn't feel like a leper, or the strange girl that everyone whispered about or teased. She was on the brink of fleeing back to Louisiana. A place where her lazy drawl didn't seem so out of place. A place where it was okay to stop and talk to random strangers, share your life and move on. Where the weird thrived, and breathed. Where things couldn't possibly be weird, and the people didn't seem to have a mean bone in their bodies. A horribly different place than New York.

Pickle's long legs were still carrying her down the courtyard, across the hill. A hill she had slid and slipped on previously when hurrying to tell Tyler her wonderful plan of getting him an Addison together. A hill that if you went too fast, you could just fall right on your bum. But Pickle's legs were familiar to this little hill, and carried her easily down the hill. Her hair had grown from it's awkward chin length, and fell just a few inches past her shoulders. The roots had grown out, since she hadn't dyed it again. All in all, Pickle looked like a mismatched mess from head to toe. A mismatched mess that wasn't paying attention to where she was going, as she zoned out, still staring at her phone.

OUTFIT

[SILAS SCHMIDT]

The taxi ride had been torturous. Silas had received seven calls from his mother and four from Adler. Sure, he had left in a hurry, hadn't said goodbye, but they knew him well enough to know that he was just ready to get out of there. He felt just a twinge of guilt as he ignored all eleven calls from home. They worried too much. He was just fine.
He'd decided to take a bus from the airport to get nearer, then after that he'd waved down a taxi. The middle eastern driver had given him a strange look when he told him where to go, but didn't ask any questions. Silas supposed that it wasn't normal for a teenager to come to this school alone in a taxi. People were probably dropped off by parents or drove themselves. Well his parents couldn't drop him off. One was dead and the other was back in Minnesota. He shook off the thoughts of his dad that threatened to appear and stared out the window. His phone began to ring again and he sighed, glancing at the screen. An eyebrow flew up in surprise at the name and he answered out of sheer curiosity.

"Isaac?"

"What the hell, Silas?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Do you have any idea how worried Mom is? You could have at least told her that you were leaving. Adler's been trying to calm her down, but he's at school now. I thought you were waiting until the weekend to leave."

"I changed my mind," Silas muttered, scowling, "I didn't want to stick around anymore. What's wrong with that? You and Chris are AWOL, so why am I obligated to stay?"

"Look, you should have told someone. Left a note or something. Just because you're nineteen doesn't mean you can do whatever the hell you feel like."

"You mean like you did when you were nineteen?" Silas shot back, now irritated.

"Things were different then. It's time to grow up, Silas. Dad would-"

"Fucking shut up. You don't know what he would want, because he's not here. Don't pretend to know."

Isaac sighed on the other end of the line.

"You should call Mom when you get to Tyler's. She's upset."

"Whatever."

Silas hung up on his oldest brother, fuming. Finally the driver reached the campus and Silas tossed him some money. Picking up his only bag, he slung it over his shoulder, threw a smirk at the cab driver and said, "Thanks for the ride, Achmed."

"You son of a-"

The remark was cut short as Silas slammed the door shut and started walking across campus. He stared down at his phone, texting Tyler repeatedly. He knew Ty hated that, people constantly texting and not waiting for a reply. As he walked, he didn't watch his step and suddenly collided with a small figure. He paused and looked at the little blonde girl he had run into. An eyebrow traveled upwards slowly as he took in the girl's odd appearance.

"Holy shit. You have got the biggest eyes. Did someone glue your eyelids open or something?"

That was Silas. Always the charmer.

[PICKLE ABREY]

Of course, it would be just like a brick wall to jump out of nowhere and mow her down. Surprise didn’t really hit her as she crashed to the ground. More of a exasperated sigh, as though this was a common occurrence. Looking up, she expected to see one of the many classmates she seemed to encounter day, after day after---who the hell was this guy?

“Yeah, another eye joke. Try and be a little more original, right?” Pickle was 110% done with this shit, and was currently looking for her phone that had fallen out of her hands. Preferably to find it before some loser crushed the screen with their uncaring shoes. Pushing on the grass, she stumbled to her feet and brushed off the seat of her shorts. Surely she’d have grass stains on her butt. Again.

This was beginning to hurt less and less. Maybe this was the acceptance stage. Maybe this was how she knew that she would have to go back to Louisiana. She was dying on the inside and she didn’t exactly care. Taking her eyes off the stranger, she pushed her hair behind her ears and leaned over, looking for Tyler’s face within the grass. “Deer in the headlights, bug-eyes. Oh, shit! Did someone squeeze you too hard as a baby?” Pickle rolled her eyes before looking back up at the stranger and narrowed her eyes. “I’ve heard it all before, so if you’re trying to be cool—you’ve failed.”

Sassy Pickle was sassy.

She hadn’t seen this kid before today. Then again, there were thousands of students in the school. It would be impossible for her to know everyone. However he looked about her age, which meant he had to be in her grade. And he was surprised over her eyes—so either he was living under a rock and the whispers of the school pariah hadn’t reached him, or he actually was new.

And if he actually was new—that’d just be one more jerk to add to the jerk-meter. Awesome.

OUTFIT

[SILAS SCHMIDT]

Silas grinned as the blonde girl with big eyes glowered at him. Damn, she looked every shade of unhappy right now. She didn't look as hurt as he'd expected though, and she proceeded to inform him of the cutting remarks that she'd obviously listened to before. He'd have to do better then.

Unfortunately, Silas was one of those people who didn't understand the concept of tact. And that may have been why, when he got into these situations, he just dug himself deeper.

He lit up a cigarette and inhaled, rolling his eyes at her attempt at getting him off her back. Silas blew out a stream of smoke.

"Ooo, ouch," he replied, his voice dripping with derision, "I bet you were up all night trying to come up with that one, sweetheart. I've heard more coherent things from a schizophrenic with Tourette's."

The crushing weight in his chest lightened considerably. It was easy to be a jerk to people. It helped get out the aggression that he bottled up, and when he bitched at strangers, there was little in the category of consequences. Besides, it would be best if he would meet Tyler in a good mood. He'd hate for his best friend to throw him out for saying something dumb on the first day. He watched her search for her phone as he smoked. Silas blew a cloud at her and smirked.

"Well babe, I'd love to stay and chat, but somewhere out there is a tree, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breathe and I think you owe it an apology. I've got somewhere to be."

Sneering, he stepped right over her and bent over, swiping up the dropped cell phone and depositing it into his sweatshirt pocket.

OUTFIT