Outsider (Male oc x Class of 09)

Route 3

Another day in this hellhole they call high school, Jecka mused as she dragged herself through the corridors. Class, gossip, dodging harassment, scoring drugs from Emily, all the usual crap. But lunchtime was different. Before heading to the cafeteria, she'd always find him lurking by the entrance, waiting to hand over her lunch. Yami's culinary skills put the cafeteria slop to shame, and it saved her the hassle of waiting in line. She'd exchange a few words with him, venting about the usual garbage – school, her shitty parents – and he'd actually listen, offering some nuggets of advice here and there.

It was a welcome change, having someone who didn't whine or judge about her problems, just listened. She never thought she'd be cool with a dude's company, but here she was.

Yet for all the times they'd talked, she still knew jack shit about him. Not that she cared much; let him keep his secrets. But the curiosity nagged at her, stirring a nosiness she tried to keep in check. She'd spilled her guts to him, after all. Why couldn't he reciprocate? All she knew was he was an orphan who used to be in some circus gig. Pretty weird, but intriguing. Every time she prodded for more info, he'd deflect or change the subject, leaving her hanging.

And that expression of his – that perpetual poker face. It was like talking to a damn mannequin sometimes. Only time she'd seen any emotion from him was his first day here, when he'd enrolled. That sinister smile still sent shivers down her spine, those eyes that hold untold darkness. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but not by much.

Was this what Stockholm syndrome felt like? The guy who'd initially freaked her out was now her lunch buddy, tutor, and confidant. She shook her head, trying to shake off the weird thoughts. She glared at her table, where instead of Yami's usual culinary masterpiece, there sat some sorry excuse for tuna casserole from the cafeteria. He'd barely been gone a week on his New York trip, and she was already missing him. She gave herself a mental slap. Since when did she get so attached?

She was just about to take a bite of her less-than-satisfactory cafeteria tuna when she noticed Nicole, the girl she'd met yesterday, sliding into the seat across from her. Nicole had an apathetic expression that mirrored Yami's, but unlike ghost boy, Nicole at least showed some emotions.

Jecka: "The tuna is good today."

Nicole didn't respond immediately, prompting Jecka to furrow her brow in confusion, waiting for a response.

Nicole: "... So I'm pretty sure the photography teacher's a white nationalist."

Jecka: "... I said 'the tuna is good today' and you replied with that." She frowned, waiting for further explanation.

Nicole: "Remember how I told you about that photoshoot with him?"

Jecka: "Yeah, you're a regular bragger."

Nicole: "No, it's not about that. He kept going on about whiteness and being white the whole time."

Jecka: "Guess that fits. Mr. White is a white supremacist, after all."

Nicole: "White nationalist," she corrected.

Jecka: "Same difference, isn't it?"

Nicole: "White supremacists believe white culture is superior, while white nationalists politicize it."

Jecka: "So... he's?"

Nicole: "Mr. White is a white nationalist. Pretty sure half the school is full of white supremacists."

Jecka: "Ah, makes sense."

Nicole: "Does it?"

Jecka: "... would I be racist if I said no?"

Nicole: "Honestly, I don't give a shit. That's just what Google told me last night."

Jecka: "Well, if we've got a KKK wannabe running the photography class, shouldn't we do something about it?" her brows knitting together in concern.

Nicole: "Like what? Even if we told someone, they wouldn't do jack shit. If being racist got you fired, no one would have a job."

Jecka: "Well, I'm kinda curious now. I think I'll pay him a visit. Maybe catch him doing something else. You coming?"

Jecka looked at Nicole expectantly.

Nicole: "Dude, I really don't want to get involved. You've got this."

Jecka: "Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you just don't feel like it?"

Nicole: "Can't it be both?"

Jecka: "You're such a piece of shit."

Nicole: "How? Because I don't want to cozy up to a white nationalist more than I have to?"

Jecka: "You got me all hyped up over this, and you won't even gig into it with me. What kind of friend are you?"

Nicole: "Don't you have your buddy Yami? Why not ask him?"

Jecka: "He's out of town for probably a week. Besides, you're the only other halfway decent-looking chick around here. We're bound to end up friends anyway."

Nicole: "And that's why your friendship radar is so screwed."

Jecka: "Fine, whatever. See you later?"

Nicole: "Yeah, might as well. Got some new student integration thing with the counselor."

Jecka's expression softened with a touch of pity.

Jecka: "Good luck with that."

Nicole: "Why do you say it like that?"

Jecka: "You'll see."

With a warning glance, Jecka rose from her seat, eager to delve deeper into the mystery of their white nationalist teacher. Perhaps she'd even uncover something more intriguing than his extremist views.