Red-Heads On The Battle Front

1. First Impressions Aren't Always Best Impressions

People are not my forte. It was amazing how many of them I've run into for the past sixteen years of my life. You'd think that after years of experience I'd be a pro at handling them. The reality was that I was nowhere close. I could get rid of them and that was my talent, yet this one resisted the anti-charismatic entity that was I.

"Move" I growled. There weren't many things I was possessive of, since I didn't own many things anyway. This seat was mine and that was a whole different story.
"No" he taunted, fueling my anger.
"And why ever not?"
"Because I got here first"
"Oh yes, because you've been invisible for twelve years"
He narrowed his eyes "I'm seventeen"
"Same difference"
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"
"Figure it out if you're smart enough" I said triumphantly. Ha! Suck on that Mr. Moron. He glared at me and then, to my surprise, smiled,
"No" Oh how I wish I could slap that smug smile off his face. The library was my only safe haven and I'd be damned if some newbie was going to come and take it away. That was my seat. That was my spot.

I growled in annoyance and then turned, as if to stalk away, but spun back at the last moment, plucking the book out of his hands. His brown eyes widened and he sprung out of the chair to chase me. Ha! I might not have any exercise whatsoever but metabolism is a bitch and I have fast legs Mr. Moron. I sprinted to the checkout counter with Mr. Moron on my heels.

"NO RUNNING IN THE LIBRARY GWEN TAYLOR HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO-"
"Shhh Mrs. Clarke! No shouting in the library" I grinned up cheekily at the sour face librarian. She glared at me and harrumphed before holding out her hands for the book.
"I'll give them all back in two weeks!" I said, handing her a pile of books, including the one I'd apprehended from- oh look! He's here!
"Nooo...!" He wailed as Mrs. Clarke holy stamp of book-lending descended upon the book. She looked up at the noise for a moment and then turned to me sighing, as if she'd known what I'd done
"It's yours, Gwen. Two weeks, no more" she fixed me with a stern look
"Yes, Mrs. Clark" I said angelically. She looked like she didn't believe me at all. How terrible unfortunate. I grinned at Mr. Moron. He looked, at first, defeated. And then really, really, really mad.'

"Give. It. To. Me"
"Nope" Oh look, the library door!
"Give it!"
"Nope" I like that door.
"Yes"
"No" In fact, I like it very much.
"Yes!"
"No!" Almost there...
"YES!"
"It's mine for two week, deal." I said and sticking my tongue out at him, I marched triumphantly out of the library, holding my books to my chest. Oh how I love doors. And how I love shoving them in people's faces. No sooner had I thought this did Mr. Moron appear, successfully having used his tiny pea-brain to untangle himself from the door.
"I was reading it first" he seethed
"And the seat was mine before it was yours, do you hear me complaining?" I said matter-of-factly.
"No. No it wasn't" he said half-heartedly. I ignored this and pushed my glasses up to the bridge of my nose as I studied the back of the book. Dragons, wars, blood...I might actually like this. Maybe Mr. Moron has a brain after all. Surprise, surprise. I slid the book to the bottom of the pile and began reading the one that was now on top.

My name's Gwenwyn Lou-Ann Taylor. I'm a social pariah because of my lack of interest in the 'socially acceptable'. Basically I refuse to wear stupid jean shrugs over tube tops that bear half my mammalian glands to the world and exchange saliva with other homo sapiens. Sue me. It's not just that, I don't understand it. In fact, people confuse me more than the word 'photosynthesis' did when I was three. My understanding of people was limited to those in books and on-screen. I can't, truthfully, say that it hasn't affected my standing in the world, but high school really isn't the world, despite what my airheaded peers may think, so I guess I can. Ha.

I pulled up my fox-red hair into a sloppy bun and walked down the pavement, letting my feet do their thing because my eyes were sure as hell not on the road like people say they're supposed to be. It was amazing how I could completely tune out the world when I was reading. It was also entirely disadvantageous at the moment because I clearly hadn't noticed Mr. Moron hounding me until I reached the door of my house. It was not steampunk castle or hobbit hole, much to my eternal chagrin, but it had a roof and it had memories and for that I was grateful. I really loved that door, in particular, of all the doors I've seen. Donut say anything. Just donut.

"Gwen! You've brought a friend!"
Huh?  It took a moment to register the perky words belonging to that person I called 'Mother'.
"No, Mum, I didn't." I didn't have friends. Well, except May, but I haven't really seen her except for the occasionally grainy Skype or static photos on the computer.
"Oh he's cute!" she stage-whispered. Who...? I turned around and blinked.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!" I bellowed.
"Gwen!" my mother scolded.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Taylor" Mr. Moron said flashing her a hundred watt smile. How did he know my last name? Damn you Mrs. Clarke!
"Oh! Charming too" Stop Mum. I don't even know him. Stop. STOP. But now they were shaking hands and she was asking him to come inside. That ended my mortified silence.
"Here. Hold this. I need to talk to Mr. Moron" I said, dropping my precious books into my mother's hands. She was so giddy with excitement that she even let the Mr. Moron comment slide.

"Mr. Moron? Is that the best you can come up with?"
"It's what I've been calling you in my head, post-annoying-meeting"
"Funny. I've been calling you Weasley the whole while" I stopped. That was actually quite flattering, to be honest. But out of necessity, I said drily "How charming. Now you can get off my porch"
"Not until you give me my book"
"We've already been through this, bird brain. It's not your book anymore. Deal. With. It"
"But I was reading it first!"
"You do know that this is a circular and pointless argument. Now get off my property"
"Your property? Mrs. Taylor! The Weasl-"
I smiled at him serenely. That cut him off mid-shout,
"What?" He asked curiously
"I'll extend the lending time if you don't go away" I said in a singsong voice. He scowled.
"You can't do that"
"No. That's not fair! Weasley, give me my book!"
"Three weeks" I said, inspecting my fingernails
"No! Fine. I'll...I'll pay you!" Nice. I liked this.
"Nope" Yay. Fun.
"I'll let you have your seat back?" Yes! YES!
"I'll think about it – I've got two weeks to think about it anyway"
If looks could kill, I'd be a smoking pile of ashes who'd been incinerated multiple times.
"See you around Mr. Moron"
"This isn't over, Weasley" he called as I shut the door, hiding my smile. Okay maybe it was more than a little flattering.

I was still, unfortunately, smiling, when Mum descended upon me, having heard the click of our door, and demanded that her motherly curiosity be satisfied. Stupid Mr. Moron.