you wonder if it's real
702 words. PG. Rayanne Graff. Brian Krakow.
Summary: Okay, so, it's not like Rayanne cares, right?
Note: Originally posted here, for the teen comment ficathon.
Okay, so, it's not like Rayanne cares, right? Brian Krakow is a frizzy awkward little nub of a human who barely even, like, registers in her brain half the time, but it like sort of bothers her that he doesn't like her? It has nothing to do with him, not really. Krakow is in Rayanne's orbit because of Angela and, despite protests, Angela's obviously got some kind of a thing with the Kraken, which mean Rayanne sees no end to having to put up with him, which means - jeez, she's lost her train of thought, but the point is: it irritates her that Krakow doesn't like her.
He's never said it but he doesn't have to. It's in the rolling of his eyes, in the curl of his lip when she says something he obviously thinks is dumb. It's that he does shit like that but still can't keep his eyes off her legs. Rayanne doesn't like to feel like that, worthless except for the shape of her, but that's how she feels all the time anyway. And she doesn't need a frizzy reminder hanging around - which is all Krakow does, hang around.
So, post-Halloween, Rayanne is sitting on the railing outside school waiting for Rickie when she sees Krakow ambling up - and he's, like, the most embarrassing, with his tragic shirt and little uncomfortable shuffle, like his own skin doesn't fit. He shoots these weird little glances at passersby, too, totally shifty. He shoots one at Rayanne and flinches, seemingly startled to find her already looking.
"Good morning, Krak-a-lak," she says.
"What do you want?"
Rayanne arches an eyebrow and shifts her weight so her boots are hooked over the lower railing, a precarious perch. She starts rifling through her bag for the mini brownies she's pretty sure she stashed there, like, two days ago. "Jeez, suspicious much? I'm being friendly or whatever." She finds the brownies and beams, triumphant.
He purses his lips and drops his eyes and, like clockwork, his gaze slides over her legs where her dress is riding up a little, over the runs in her stockings. Rayanne throws a brownie at him.
"Don't perve out on me before first period," she says.
"I wasn't," he says immediately, which means he was, "I wasn't even looking."
"Uh-huh, sure." Rayanne hops down, skirt catching enough to make Krakow blush, and swings her bag up. "Have you seen Rickie today? I know he owes you your weird pleated pants."
"He already gave me my stuff," he says, shifting his weight from side to side. "They're not pleated."
Mouth full, Rayanne says, "Whatever - so have you seen him?"
"No." Krakow glances towards the doors, where the crowd has already thinned as people head in to class. "Are we done?"
"You know, for a such a goody-two-shoes, you're extremely -" Rayanne raises both eyebrows and takes on a haughty expression, pokes one finger right into the center of his chest. "Rude."
He blinks at her, taken aback because he's the kind of boy who thinks he was raised by his mom to have good manners. But Rayanne knows how this stuff works; it doesn't matter how he treats someone like her, she's not worth politeness. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she says breezily, spinning on her heel and marching towards the doors. She can at least catch Angela in the bathroom before, blech, history.
As expected, he's at her heels like a kicked puppy. "I don't know why you'd say that, I'm pretty sure - like, okay, I said I was sorry about getting us locked in, but then you told me that story that wasn't true so I think that makes us even and I've never done anything to do, you don't even really know me -"
Rayanne turns on her heel again, so abrupt he almost walks into her. "Check out my legs again and I'll tell Angela you're, like, in heat for her. Okay?"
Krakow stares at her, annoyed and a little confused. "I wasn't."
Rayanne laughs. "Okay, Krakow. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Then she whirls away again, only she doesn't feel the usual messing-with-Krakow satisfaction.
Whatever. It's not like Rayanne cares.
702 words. PG. Rayanne Graff. Brian Krakow.
Summary: Okay, so, it's not like Rayanne cares, right?
Note: Originally posted here, for the teen comment ficathon.
Okay, so, it's not like Rayanne cares, right? Brian Krakow is a frizzy awkward little nub of a human who barely even, like, registers in her brain half the time, but it like sort of bothers her that he doesn't like her? It has nothing to do with him, not really. Krakow is in Rayanne's orbit because of Angela and, despite protests, Angela's obviously got some kind of a thing with the Kraken, which mean Rayanne sees no end to having to put up with him, which means - jeez, she's lost her train of thought, but the point is: it irritates her that Krakow doesn't like her.
He's never said it but he doesn't have to. It's in the rolling of his eyes, in the curl of his lip when she says something he obviously thinks is dumb. It's that he does shit like that but still can't keep his eyes off her legs. Rayanne doesn't like to feel like that, worthless except for the shape of her, but that's how she feels all the time anyway. And she doesn't need a frizzy reminder hanging around - which is all Krakow does, hang around.
So, post-Halloween, Rayanne is sitting on the railing outside school waiting for Rickie when she sees Krakow ambling up - and he's, like, the most embarrassing, with his tragic shirt and little uncomfortable shuffle, like his own skin doesn't fit. He shoots these weird little glances at passersby, too, totally shifty. He shoots one at Rayanne and flinches, seemingly startled to find her already looking.
"Good morning, Krak-a-lak," she says.
"What do you want?"
Rayanne arches an eyebrow and shifts her weight so her boots are hooked over the lower railing, a precarious perch. She starts rifling through her bag for the mini brownies she's pretty sure she stashed there, like, two days ago. "Jeez, suspicious much? I'm being friendly or whatever." She finds the brownies and beams, triumphant.
He purses his lips and drops his eyes and, like clockwork, his gaze slides over her legs where her dress is riding up a little, over the runs in her stockings. Rayanne throws a brownie at him.
"Don't perve out on me before first period," she says.
"I wasn't," he says immediately, which means he was, "I wasn't even looking."
"Uh-huh, sure." Rayanne hops down, skirt catching enough to make Krakow blush, and swings her bag up. "Have you seen Rickie today? I know he owes you your weird pleated pants."
"He already gave me my stuff," he says, shifting his weight from side to side. "They're not pleated."
Mouth full, Rayanne says, "Whatever - so have you seen him?"
"No." Krakow glances towards the doors, where the crowd has already thinned as people head in to class. "Are we done?"
"You know, for a such a goody-two-shoes, you're extremely -" Rayanne raises both eyebrows and takes on a haughty expression, pokes one finger right into the center of his chest. "Rude."
He blinks at her, taken aback because he's the kind of boy who thinks he was raised by his mom to have good manners. But Rayanne knows how this stuff works; it doesn't matter how he treats someone like her, she's not worth politeness. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she says breezily, spinning on her heel and marching towards the doors. She can at least catch Angela in the bathroom before, blech, history.
As expected, he's at her heels like a kicked puppy. "I don't know why you'd say that, I'm pretty sure - like, okay, I said I was sorry about getting us locked in, but then you told me that story that wasn't true so I think that makes us even and I've never done anything to do, you don't even really know me -"
Rayanne turns on her heel again, so abrupt he almost walks into her. "Check out my legs again and I'll tell Angela you're, like, in heat for her. Okay?"
Krakow stares at her, annoyed and a little confused. "I wasn't."
Rayanne laughs. "Okay, Krakow. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Then she whirls away again, only she doesn't feel the usual messing-with-Krakow satisfaction.
Whatever. It's not like Rayanne cares.