Chapter Text
9:20 AM
The polynomials lecture the teacher is currently running through is horrifically boring, to say nothing about the fact that Amity already understands all the material. Yet, a Blight sees things through, and she also knows that diligent work is what will cinch her seat at Harvard; so she sits, and focuses, only jotting down short-hand to prompt and reinforce her memory later.
And so Amity is sat politely, attentive to the shit she knows already, reinforcing everything in her brain. She's so locked in the bell actually startles her, she jumps slightly at the sudden ringing and is a scant beat behind the crowd at packing everything up.
"Okay! Do questions 6 through 43 on chapter 4 please! By tomorrow!" The teacher calls out through the rising din of backpacks and procured phones and chatter. "Alright y'all don't care anyways." The teacher mutters as the throng all pours out. Amity slides her thin notebook into her bag, then she stands with elegance. Then someone neatly bumps into her, quickly twisting to the side to lessen the impact at the cost of increasing the duration of contact. A bolt zaps through Amity's spine, she goes suddenly rigid for a fleeting moment, then it's over.
"Oop, sorry Amity." A tanned girl with a long near-black ponytail chirps, skirting by with an awkard wave before rushing out the door with a cheery "See ya tomorrow dude!" To the teacher. Then, just as rushed and breathless as the rest of her, she's gone.
Amity stares for a solid ten seconds, forgetting to bother with her phone at all. "Who the hell is that girl?" She whispers to herself, shouldering her bag and making her way to Social Studies.
11:12 PM
"GOGOGO!" Her opponent shouts as they pass the ball to the last girl Luz wants to get near. Her minty hair is in a cute little pony, revealing an auburn undercut. Amity is bearing down, the rugby ball tucked neatly under her lithe arm. Amity is off like a shot, and Luz is the closest to intercept.
This puts her in an awkward situation, in that she's a sweaty mess and she has to touch Amity Blight as a sweaty mess. The girl's fiercely determined face has Luz's jelly legs threatening. But, there's nothin' for it. She moves quick, her longer legs coming in clutch yet again in her storied P.E. career. Amity pushes herself harder, but there's nothing for it, her initial positioning doomed her. Luz ducks down, reaches out, and catches Amity around the waist. Bringing her to the ground in a fell swoop.
There's a beautiful moment where Luz is convinced this isn't gonna be weird as shit. Then the rest of the teams cram in around them, crushing them together. Luz's leg is tangled between hers, Amity lets out a soft oof, and Luz yelps as someone's hand winds up smooshed on her tit.
The coach blows the whistle a few seconds later, a bulky hulking woman with the meanest mouth ever, shouting at them, "Break it up girls! Break it up! Fuck's sake, that's not a ruck. It's a masssacre."
"S-sorry… bout that." Luz pants, trying to catch her breath as the ladies all scramble off them. Amity straightens up, huffing and puffing and wiping grass off herself.
"It's fine. Nice one by the way." Amity says, "That tackle was clean, great work." She finishes off with a cute little, "See ya round." Before she jogs back to her team. Leaving Luz unsure of which she's doing harder, shaking, or blushing.
12:15 PM
"What the fuck, she's in like, all my classes." Amity says moodily, eyeing the back of Luz's head. It's been a strange day. Despite being fairly certain that she's never ever noticed her before, Luz is suddenly everywhere. In her classes, and between her fucking legs during P.E. Luz has technically hit second and a half base with her. How mortifying.
"You've said that like seven times Ams." Skara points out, eyes glued to her phone as she texts her latest boyfriend, some boy with frosted tips named Brendan. They're lounging against the side of a hallway, Amity is furiously chewing bubblegum to get the lunch taste out of her mouth.
"I know. It's still weird." Amity intones, staring at Luz as she carries on down the hall with her gaggle of weirdos. Willow, whom Amity still has a distant but decent friendship with, that blond trust fund kid, the smart kid who skipped two grades, and Luz herself. Simple jeans and a simple graphic teeshirt under a beaten up old letterman. It works so fucking well, somehow, with her ponytail and her bright smile.
"So? She's a weirdo in your classes. It happens all the time. That burner chick Viney is in all of Boscha's classes too." Skara counters, the only one even half paying attention to Amity's sudden fixation on this girl. The rest of the group are chattering about gossip, and how apparently some chick gave a boy a handy on a public bus.
Gross. Amity pushes off the textured wall with a grunt. "I wanna walk." She notifies the group, "Come with?"
"Sorry, don't really feel like it." Amy (not her sister) says.
"I'm meeting with Brendan soon." Is Skara's out.
Bo shrugs, "Nah."
So Amity walks by herself, suddenly deeply tired. But a bit of movement should help bring her blood flow up, so she ditches the musty interior of the decades old school in favor of some fresh autumn air. The trees are vibrant and lovely, the breeze is deflected by her designer leather jacket. Her hair is swept. She inhales deeply, and wanders around the paved area around the portable classrooms.
Her shoes scuff against the uneven ground, her breath comes out in soft puffs of mist. She needs to think of anything except Luz, so she thinks about law class, the only class she has without Luz. She thinks about the historic cases of their criminal law unit.
She's going over some instrumental case files in her head, eyes unfocused as she navigates the school grounds. Law. Law. Law… her Hecate sketch. Boscha being an unforgivable skank. Law. Law. Patricia's party this weekend. Azura, tanned skin and bright hair and a bubbly personality and an eyebrow scar and —
Amity shakes herself. Then, the bell rings. Lunch is over. She snaps back to the present, staring at the treeline on the edge of the property.
"Damnit."
The rush back leaves her ever so slightly sweaty, breathless, and unprepared for the rest of the day.
2:30 PM
It's been a good day. Luz had fun in her morning classes, she's also got plans for tonight with her friends. Willow invited her to a movie night at her place. Hell yeah! Now she's just sat down for the last class of the day, her favorite class of all, Writing 12. The room is a cluttered order, papers and books are stacked here and there, interpersed with strange (and real) artifacts. Luz herself is relaxed, well at home here, she's sat near the front, and she's got her idea notebook out and is hard at work.
"Busy already kid?" A tall, rail-thin, pale woman with bright orange hair flecked with streaks of white. She's the kinda lady who wears suits for fun. A legendary English teacher who staged a real sword fight with a former student for the Shakespeare unit. She has a pointy nose and a chaotic nature. Eda Clawthorne, and Luz adores her… Eda's not only the coolest teacher ever, but also her stepmom.
"Psh, always Mom. You know how it is, soooo many ideas and not enough time to write it all down." Luz admits, quickly turning the page before Eda reaches her desk. "Here's a good one. It's like, a medieval courtly romance idea I have."
"Ooo? Is it a fanfic?" Eda asks, leaning over to scan through the rough (VERY ROUGH) outline. Like all her rough outlines, it's mostly jokes and obscure references that go over Eda's head; but the old bird is amazing at distilling it down.
"Uh no, this is original actually." Luz admits, her cheeks heating up a little.
"Oh shit! A surprise betrothal, you're gonna get some good drama from that." Eda notes, pulling away as the rest of the class files in. "I keep tellin' ya you've got that spark. Keep working and keep honing your skills and you're gonna go far. I expect to get honorable mentions in your smash hits."
Eda pulls away as Luz giggles. She's still a bit too nervous to really, like, try publishing, but she's getting better. Her hits on AO3 are rising, nice comments piling up, people are even dming her for commission prices. All thanks to the best teacher alive.
"Ooookay ya brats, file in. We've got some exciting junk to talk about today starting with themes!" Luz sits up, eyes practically shining. She's zeroed the fuck in, and ready to learn.
3:00 PM
While interesting, this lecture is non-critical to her future, and so Amity allows herself to relax just a little. It took quite a bit of persuasion to allow Mother to approve of a writing class, but the reasoning of broadening her horizons to sharpen her mind was too tempting to pass up.
So, Amity is doodling a little while she soaks in all the words. She's still writing notes, but she's also sketching figures. But all the figures keep looking like that girl, and Amity keeps scribbling them out.
It turns out, the girl is in a lot of her classes, who woulda thought? She finally caught the name in socials, Luz. Luz Noceda. Willow's weird friend, one of the weirdo/band/art kids that hangout at the opposite end of school at lunch.
"Let me ask, why are these curtains blue?" Miss Clawthorne asks, holding a literal bundle of blue curtains. The corner of Amity's mouth curls up, and she keeps her head down. She is NOT confident in her own writing skills, but she tries her best to emulate TheSunshineWitch… however pale an imitation her own work is.
Luz shoots her hand up, more attentive and enthusiastic than she has been all day. Not that Amity has been stalking her or anything, she's just… observing.
"The color of the curtains is only important if there's more emphasis, like, if the author repeatedly mentions them. Or if the curtains come up later, or something like that. Otherwise it's just set dressing." Luz says.
"Bingo! Writing is flexible, the rules are suggestions at best, and knowing when to break them for added impact is almost more important than knowing them." Miss Clawthorne says, snapping her fingers, gliding across the front of the class like a cartoon character.
Amity grins to herself, and jots that bit of wisdom down. Then Miss Clawthorne bangs the lecturn with both spindly hands and says, "Now! It's time to put all this knowledge to the test!" She intones ominously, "All your mettle will be needed. It's grrrrroup project time!" She brandishes what looks to be an old ass pot or vase or something. It's about a foot wide and two feet tall. Sizable, and obviously heavy. She heaves it onto her desk with a chunky thunk then eyes them all up.
Amity gets the distinct impression of Baba Yaga, for whatever reason.
"Here's how it goes down. Everyone's names are in this ol' thing. I call someone up, they pick out a name. That's their partner. No one's gonna learn new things if y'all always pick your usuals, see? So if you grab someone who's already partnered up you go again. If you grab yourself you get to choose your partner."
Amity stares, horrified, at the empty space where Boscha ususally is. The skank. The horrible skank, being sick today. Still, there's no garuntee they'd even be partnered up.
"Let's start at the top." Eda says, furthering Amity's dread. "Aaron?" Aaron A. Aaronson, the turbo-computer nerd who pulls his pants too high and smells a little like he doesn't know how to shower. Amity isn't a religious girl, but she prays nontheless. Aaron nearly biffs on his way up, but he manages it through the awkward gangle of long limbs that is his body.
Luz is leaning back, fidgeting at the front with a pencil. She doesn't miss a beat on spinning it between her fingers. Amity blinks. Then Aaron opens up a folded piece of paper.
"Carl."
So, jocks and nerds uniting. A dangerous combo. They'll either ace it or go down in flames. She sighs, bracing for the inevitable impact of her randomly assigned fate. Amy or Eileen? Or is she gonna wind up with Jason? The son of Dad's business associate? Or is it gonna be some rando—
"Boots, up you get!" Miss Clawthorne calls, and Amity stands. It's probably not true, but it feels like all eyes are on her as she strides up confidently. She reaches in, mixes the pile of papers, not really focusing at all. One catches her attention, there's a slight tear brushing across the pad of her finger and she snatches it. "Quick grabbers." Miss Clawthorne jokes.
Amity unfolds the paper, and, kind of shocked, reads it aloud before looking up at the girl she only noticed this morning, "Luz Noceda."