Trouble School

05}}Skeletons and Skittles

He shouldn't be surprised.

After all, she'd caused more trouble than he had, and that was when she didn't even do anything. Psycho Suze was just easier to blame for shit, because she never said anything in her defense. It was like she wanted to get in trouble, but didn't actually have the guts to break the rules herself. She was the universal scapegoat at their old school.

Fred was the only one who knew, or at least he assumed so. He'd figured it out by pure chance and circumstance. He'd been outside the Principal's office one day and heard Mrs. Dragon (AKA: The principal, Mrs. Pasquariello) reprimanding the poor girl through the thick oak door. Suze hadn't said a word, taking it like a statue. And Mrs. Dragon had complained rather enthusiastically about that one. She didn't like being ignored.

Then Mrs. Dragon had cut off mid-sentence, snapping at Suzanne. "Don't you dare walk out of this office, young lady! I'm not done with you!"

Fred had had his ear pressed to the door by that point, and when he heard that, he was in one of the chairs against the wall faster then the human eye could follow. (A very young, very slow human eye...) When Mrs. Dragon's door opened, he was sitting innocently with his feet stretched out, his ankles crossed, and his hands folded behind his head like a pillow. A guilty-as-the-devil picture of innocence. But he always looked like that, so he doubted anyone would notice the slight flush of his caramel cheeks and the lack of 'I don't give a shit' boredom in his eyes.

The door opened just a few inches at first, then he heard a rich voice — something between a melodic soprano and a sultry alto — that definitely did not belong to Mrs. Dragon. "Don't touch me!"

Suzanne.

Funny, he'd never actually heard her speak before. Seen her do it, from a distance, so he knew she could, but had never heard her.

No wonder she was in choir second period. Though he wondered why she was so quiet, especially with a voice that was so strong and confident. And that was just when she was talking. She could've easily become the choir director's favorite. Unless she was tone deaf, but he didn't think so.

When the door had opened the rest of the way, it was to reveal the raven-haired girl that everyone called Psycho Suze. Or Screwy Suzie, depending on who you asked.

Suzanne stepped out of the office and slammed the door behind her, her usually empty grey eyes sparking with contempt, which was not at all the emotion he expected to see. Anger, yes. Frustration to near the point of tears, most certainly.

But she looked absolutely disgusted with life.

And as soon as she turned around, her grey eyes latched onto him like the teeth of a lioness into the raw living flesh of an antelope.

It took every ounce of his self control — honed by years of hiding his true feelings from his mother and "friends" — not to flinch and look away. But he couldn't stop himself from tensing. From this close, he could see her face more clearly than he'd ever seen it. It was natural, completely makeup-free, which surprised him. That, and her eyebrows were a pale color, leading him to conclude that her hair wasn't naturally black.

She snarled at him, a knowing glint in those predatory eyes. She looked at him like he was pile of shit on the carpet, like he was nothing, pathetic.

At least he was used to those kinds of looks, granted, he'd only ever gotten them from two places before. The gym teacher and his mother.

This was new, coming from her, but it wasn't unfamiliar.

Suzanne didn't spare him another moment's attention, turning on one heel and stalking down the hallway, a furious black-leather-clad bundle of arrogance.