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Everything is stupid and pointless and you don’t get why your fucking dad has to move you all over the country. You’re sick of cramped apartments, you’re sick of IHOP, and you’re really fucking sick of having to carefully repack your collection of romantic comedies every two weeks.
He swears this time is the last time, that you’ll stay here for a while, but you’re not really expecting him to keep that promise. He says lobster fishing is his new thing, but you know once October rolls around he’ll be itching to get back to Alaska. You think hunting crustaceans is a completely outrageous way to make a living, but your dad says otherwise. It doesn’t help that he’s got his mind set on appearing on The Deadliest Catch.
You shoulder your backpack and furrow your brows and march into your new high school braced for a hurricane. It’s passing time, and you push your way through the throngs of students to get past the entryway. You pause to collect your bearings, scanning the hall for signs reading “Main Office.” You let your guard down for half a second, and some oversized upperclassman decides it’s the perfect moment to barrel ass-first into your 5 foot, two-and-a-half inch frame. You fall on your face. Your backpack explodes and books clatter around your crumpled body. Here lies Karkat Vantas, 9th grader: he lived a shitty life.
You stay on the ground for longer than you should. Who gives a fuck, anyway. It’s comfortable down here. You watch grubby sneakers and worn-out flip-flops slow as they pass you, but none of them stop. Good, you think, I’ll just stay here for eternity and become one with the linoleum. And then a pair of bright pink Doc Martens stops in front of your face. You take a minute to wonder who the fuck even wears Doc Martens anymore, and look up to see who they belong to.
It takes you a while, because this girl is tall as fuck. She’s all legs and arms and…braids? Yeah, those are definitely braids. Two long fucking braids that trail down her back. What the fuck, you think, and then you notice one of her long-ass arms reaching out to you. You stare at it for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“You gonna let me help you up or you gonna just lie there all day?” she asks. You frown and grab her hand. She pulls you up, and you stumble a bit before you regain your balance. She watches you, smirking, her lips painted the same gaudy pink as her shoes, and you grumble your thanks as you pick your books off the floor.
Once you’ve gathered your things, you turn to face her. She’s almost a foot taller than you, and it makes you nervous. She makes you nervous, despite the sparkly pink clam purse and the fact that she’s all limbs and bone and you could probably take her in a fight if you could get in just one good hit and knock her off balance.
“Where you headed?” she asks. She’s still got that shit-eating grin on her face.
“Main office,” you say, meeting her gaze for a second and then quickly looking back at the dwindling crowds of students. She jerks her thumb over her shoulder.
“S’thatta way,” she says.
“Thanks,” you say.
She doesn’t move, and you’re not sure if that means something or if she’s just being rude so you just stand there like an idiot for a minute before she sticks out her hand.
“I’m Meenah,” she says.
“Karkat.”
---
She’s in Leadership and Diplomacy with you third period, and she unceremoniously dumps her books on the empty desk next to you. She slides into her chair, drapes her arms over the back, and rolls her head to the side to look at you. You stare back in silence.
“Sup,” she says.
“Nothing,” you say back. She opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s interrupted by the loud slap of a ruler on chalkboard. You look up and meet the burning glare of the deceptively small Ms. Pyrope.
“Mister Vantas,” she says, giving the “s” sounds a sharpness that almost makes you flinch, “as the newest addition to our class, I’d like you to give us a little introduction.” She smiles. At least, you think it’s a smile. You feel vaguely threatened by her baring of teeth, but you try to keep your cool. You end up just clenching your jaw and tightening your fists and praying to whatever gods there might be that she doesn’t make you do anything stupid.
“Okay,” you manage to spit out, and she leans against her desk.
“Who is the leader you admire the most?” she asks.
“Napoleon,” you reply almost instantly. Her eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch and you flush red in embarrassment. “I mean, people claim all these things about an inferiority complex and economic ruin and whatever, but the guy was a tactical genius. He won something like 50 battles, usually against bigger armies, not to mention the fact that the Napoleonic code was a huge influence on civil law systems. I just think he was a really impressive leader and it’s kind of shitty that people only focus on how he was short and French.”
Ms Pyrope smiles, and it’s more comforting this time.
“Language, Mister Vantas. But very good,” she says. She stares at the class for a minute before whipping around and scratching an outline onto the blackboard. You let out a sigh of relief and lean back in your chair. You glance over at Meenah. She’s beaming, and gives you a thumbs up. You smile, just a little bit, and start taking notes.
She jumps you after class, punching your arm and giggling in excitement.
“I never seen anyone impress Pyrope like that!” she squeals, “Where the fuck did you come from?” You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“I just really like military history,” you say, crossing your arms and shrugging. Meenah laughs and gestures for you to follow her down the hall.
“You goin’ to lunch now or you still got class?”
“Yeah I have lunch next,” you say, looking up at her. She’s watching you, that big dumb grin still on her face.
“YES! Great! Okay look we’re gonna ditch but you gotta be cool about it, aight?” You hesitate, but figure it’s better than sitting alone, so you nod in agreement. “Follow me,” she says. She grabs your hand and pulls you through a door marked “Janitor 2b.” You have to jog to keep up, and you find yourself smiling again.
“Where are we going?” you ask, but she turns around and presses a finger to her lips. She leads you down a hallway and around a dark corner before you burst out a back door into the bright sunshine. She puts her hands on her hips and stands triumphant.
“We’re free!” she shouts, throwing her hands in the air. She looks over at you, the sun glinting off her cat-eye glasses. “Whattaya hungry for?”
---
She slurps down the last of her soda while you munch on your fries. You’re missing 5th period, but neither of you really care. The sun is warm on your face and the grass on the football field is soft and squishy, and you haven’t had this much fun in a long time.
“You should try out for the boys’ swim team,” she says. “I’m the girls’ captain, so I can put in a good word with Ampora.”
“I’ve never been much of a swimmer,” you say, and she frowns.
“Well with an attitude like that you ain’t gonna be much of anything.” You laugh.
“I guess not.”
“You’re alright, Vantas,” she says. She’s watching you again, and you blush and stuff some more fries in your mouth.
“Thanks,” you say after a minute, and then, before you can over think it, you give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She perks up in surprise, but regains her composure in a flash and shoots you a sideways look.
“That all you got?” she asks. You stare at her, your face a mix of shock and confusion, and she grabs you by the shirt and pulls you in and kisses you full on the mouth.
When she finally draws back you keep your eyes closed for half a second too long, and she giggles and punches your shoulder.
“What, you never kissed a girl before?”
“Of course I have,” you scoff, and she gives your ear a playful tug.
“I’m messin’ witcha, Karkat,” she says, a little too softly than she meant to, you think. You sigh and lean back in the grass. Meenah flops down next to you, staring up at the sky, and you lay down and watch the clouds with her.
You realize that you really hope your dad keeps his promise.