There Once Was a Rivalry.

Part 7: Saviour

Natalia Parker:

Now, I remember why I always ate outside. I have to find somewhere to eat outside the walls of the cafe tomorrow. Looking in the mirror of the girl's changeroom, I hear someone walk in. Great, more witnesses to the disaster in my hair. Trying to get the last pieces of spinach from my hair, I look up to find another girl, her hair soaked. Did she get something poured on her? Her clothes aren't wet though.

She wears the gray skirt of St. Andrews. Wonderful, all I need is to end up getting picked on in the changeroom.

Arizona :

Upon entering, I find a girl from Jones. "Well, hello, tresspasser," I greet happily, positively leaping around the room. Joining her at the mirror, I lift a strand of her dark hair curiously. "What on Earth happened to you?" Ignoring the fact that she shouldn't even be in here, as it's the dancers' private changeroom, I turn on one of the sink taps. "Stick that pretty head in there," I order, going over to one of the showers to get some of the shampoo Cassis stocks up in here.

When I approach her again, I shake my head at her still-dry hair, rolling my eyes. "Seriously. Do you really want to walk around with lunch in your hair? I don't think so. In you go." When she complies, I start rinsing out her hair under the tap, my fingers scrubbing vanilla-scented shampoo into her dark tresses.

Natalia Parker:

She seems friendly despite the skirt she wears. Practically dragging me over to the sink, she washes my hair, the scent of vanilla filling the air. Pieces of green mixed with bubbles flow down the sink bowl.

It's awkward though, her movements bumping her hips into me. She smells like a guy. It's sorta weird, but I don't comment about it. When she finishes, I give a small thanks, taking a towel and drying my hair.

Arizona :

I open up my locker and pull out a hairbrush and a blowdryer, then a spare brush for her. When she's looking, I toss it at her, then go over and plug in the appliance in front of the mirror. "I'm Arizona, by the way," I tell her, running the brush through my wet hair, giving it some volume.

Natalia Parker:

I brush through my hair quickly, noticing the time on the clock behind me. I still need to stop by my locker, on the other side of the building then climb two flights of stairs to math class.

"Natalia." I smile softly as I place the brush next to her. "Thank you." I pick my bag up, speeding out of the changeroom.

Cassis James:

Math is my weakest subject. I take the juniors' math class, though I am a senior. My sister, Hailey, is the smart one, the logical one. I prefer languages and history. And dance, of course. Dancing is my life. Everyone who knows my name knows my passion for dance, and a very small number of people in the dance community don't know my name.

Mr. Salem Hawkins, the tall, handsome teacher all of the girls - the straight ones, anyway - fall head over heels for unlocks the classroom door. I think that's why he likes me; I don't fawn over him like some infatuated fangirl. He smiles at me, and a group of junior lasses glare at me jealously. I simply raise an eyebrow, making them all look away embarrassedly. My junior dancers come prancing down the hall, squealing my name, chattering about how much fun we'll have in Hawkins' class. I do my best to soak up their enthusiasm, though it dies instantly when my eyes catch those of the dark-haired lass sauntering up the hall, clearly sporting a math textbook.

Her.

"CASSIS JAMES, GET CHYO' MOTHA-FUCKIN' JUICE BOX OUT."

Grinning, I turn away from Parker to see my best friend prancing down the hall towards me. Setting my things on the floor, I catch Arizona as she pounces into my arms, the scent of mens' soap wafting over my senses. "Bitch stole my juice box," I retort, giggling. "Did you get yourself another quickie in the changeroom?" I tease, commenting on the spicy aroma. She nearly headlocks me in a hug, her legs around my waist.