Oct. 14th, 2018

Hope you enjoy!

:)

No One's Perspective-

The sun had breached through the dark blinds, showering the room in shredded light. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Not the posters that littered the wall. Not the laundry spread about. Nor the bundle of blankets on the bed. Not even the hand that slammed itself against the ringing alarm clock, awaking the very annoyed person from underneath the blankets. She groaned and blinked her dark, brown muddled with red eyes irritably.

Shoving the blankets aside, she stretched, running a hand through her wild, lengthy raven hair. After a few moments of sighs, the young woman strode across her room and began to pull out ripped, black jeans and a dark shirt. As she began to shuffle through her rack of buttoned shirts, a call came from another room. "What?" she hollered back. After no answer, she snapped, "What do you want, Marshall?"

Her bedroom door opened, revealing a young man with black hair strewn about wildly, identical eyes wide in surprise. "Wow, didn't expect you to be up."

"Well, there's the alarm," she grumbled, tugging a grey buttoned shirt over her shoulders. "Now what do you want?"

Marshall crossed his arms across his lean, broad shoulders and arched a brow. "It's seven-thirty."

"So?"

"So...school starts at eight. And you can't be missing the first day." The girl snorted, scooping black Converse from a pile of odd things. "Wha— Marceline!" He scowled, turning as she strode through the door. "You can't be doing this again! You shouldn't be!" He followed her to the stairs as she sat down, pulling her shoes on.

"Relax."

"Relax? Your first day of senior year was last year!" he said. "And I was able to graduate, and—and I'm younger than you!"

"Oh shut up! Thirty minutes, just thirty minutes younger," Marceline growled. "And if you'd listen, you'd know I don't have first period."

"What?"

Marceline rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I don't. I have second schedule. My first period's at nine." Marshall didn't look convinced. Marceline scoffed, then fished her schedule from her back pocket as she stood.

Marshall caught the paper flung to him as Marceline bounded down the stairs. "Huh...alright then," he mumbled to himself. "Hey, wait, Marceline!" He scrambled down the stairs, jumping the last three. Marshall jogged his last steps to the kitchen where his twin scoured the pantry for anything good to eat. There wasn't much besides Raisin Brand and oatmeal. She took the cereal. "Okay, so I still want to talk to you."

As she collected her bowl and spoon, Marceline said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Not right now." Marceline sent a firm glare. Marshall raised his hands. "Look, it's the beginning of the school year, so it'll be easy now."

"Marshall..."

"I'm just saying that you'll ditch and go off again later on!"

"We already talked about this!" Marceline hissed. "Yeah, yeah," she waved her hands, pouring milk into her bowl, "I'll be good in school and you'll focus on getting all the money we need. Deal. Okay. Can we be done now?"

Marshall groaned as his sister slipped around him once again, this time with a spoonful of cereal close to its expiration date in her mouth. "No! It's not good enough, Marcy!" He stomped, realizing how foolish he must've appeared with the look Marceline just gave him. After all, arguing with a stained, black tank-top and long, blue boxers wouldn't be favorable. "I know dead certain that I'll hold up my end of the deal, but I need to know that you'll hold up your end."

"What, you don't trust me to go to school?"

"Frankly," Marshall said, watching as she halted in the middle of the stairs, "no. Not really." Marceline rolled her eyes and continued to storm up her room. "Hey! Last year you were the one that was supposed to set up a good example for me! Simon said s—"

"Don't talk about him!"

The house grew silent. Marceline stood at the top of the stairs, seething. She ignored the closed, double doors at the end of the hall and snarled, "I did help you last year, right? You graduated and I'm going back to that hellhole this year. Right?"

"Well, yeah—"

"So quit asking me to do something that I already promised I'd do!"

Marshall smartly clamped his mouth shut. He nodded slowly, and heaved a long breath. "I— I know, I know. I just want to make sure you graduate like me... And—" He cut himself off, his hand gesturing towards the double doors. "And then you can go leave this town after...and not as a drop-out." Marshall felt the tension lessen as Marceline's expression softened. So he broke through. Nothing was thrown. Good.

"Okay..." she whispered quietly. "I'll try, but I swear if you ask again—"

"I won't. I promise," Marshall said. He then held up a hand. "Boy Scout's honor...or something."

"Have you ever even been a Boy Scout?" Marceline smirked.

Marshall snickered, shaking his head. "Nope. But I've seen it in movies." Marceline rolled her eyes, then slunk back into her room. She gazed around, her light grin fading away.

It was going to be a long day. She could already tell.

. . .

Ooo High, much like the town, was small and usually quiet—aside from the ravaging gossip. It didn't matter much what the gossip was, or who it was told by, but the school was especially invested with talk and whispers.

And this morning, all attention was pointed towards a somewhat unknown face to the freshmen, sophomores, juniors and a small portion of the seniors. (Okay, essentially everybody besides the staff and the majority of juniors.) Marceline. Her presence was known and acknowledged immediately. Those who recognized her did a double-take and scrambled off, thus encouraging the wave of students that made their own cut in the crowd for Marceline.

Eyes and whispers were more abundant as she passed, reeking with intimidation and awe. It wasn't surprising, given her tall stature and wryly, snarky air about her. They quivered as her eyes scanned the lockers, slicing through their ego with the fiery flare within them.

But...Marceline was innocent (even though her amused smirk said otherwise).

She was just looking for her locker.

Marceline dipped her attention back to the small slip of paper in her hand, one that she'd gotten from the office that morning. 374. She glanced across the hallway. The lockers were all in the two-hundreds. Damn, wrong hallway... Marceline grumbled quietly, then turned abruptly around. At the sight of a small freshman in front of her, she couldn't help herself. She grinned tauntingly towards him, receiving a nervous, weak smile in return. She snickered to herself, and went along her way. It was quite an amusing sight seeing the poor freshman almost piss himself.

Once she made it to the right hallway, the audience was still the same. How lovely. Her eyes followed the lockers again: 358, 360, 362, 364, 366, 368, 370, 372...

"Yeah, I heard she came back."

"What about her brother?"

"No, he wasn't the one doing drugs, remember?"

"OH! Did you hear about her DUI's? I heard she got seven of them!"

She arched a brow, and watched the small circle converse. Marceline analyzed all of them briefly: an Asian student who looked to have been transferred (judging by her notebook scrawled in Korean), a gangly blond with a white beanie, another blond more stocky with the beginnings of a beard, a girl with thick, curled hair and a set of curvy hips, and another girl with long, light ginger hair.

"Oh yeah!" the stocky blond said. "Did she sell too?"

It was the girl with ginger hair who noticed Marceline first. Her grey, sharp eyes widened as her lips pursed. "LSP," she even hissed.

"What?" The curvy girl halted in her DUI rant and turned towards the ginger. "Anyway," LSP continued, "Britney said she saw her a few months ago being arrested for that DUI. Seven of them!"

"Awww," Marceline chuckled, her arms wrapped around the two blonds' shoulders. "I didn't do that bad, did I? Only seven, you say? And drugs? Damn, gotta add that to my bucket list now." The two boys immediately yanked themselves from her arms, leaving her to snicker, a twisted smirk across her lips.

"As I was trying to tell you," the ginger hissed to LSP, "she's right there."

LSP huffed, glaring at Marceline. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh..." Marceline looked around innocently. "Getting an education like you."

"No, I mean here. We're not friends."

"We aren't ei—"

"Shut up Bonnie," LSP murmured to the ginger. The ginger—or Bonnie—merely rolled her eyes and shook her head. LSP blinked towards Marceline. "Well...?"

Marceline shrugged. "Just waiting until people get out of my way."

"Um," the blond with the beanie started, "but there's the hallway space over there."

Marceline smirked, muttering, "Well not even I need that much space for my locker."

The stocky blond shifted his dark eyes to the locker beside him, realizing the space with the lock missing. "Oh, uh...here you go. We'll just—" The bell shrilled loudly. "We'll just go to class! Come on!" He nervously ushered the Korean student, LSP and the other blond away as Marceline fixed her lock on the locker door.

Bonnie lingered, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What..." Marceline murmured, "can't help but stare? I'm not some art exhibit."

She only sighed, asking quietly, "What class do you have next?"

Marceline arched a brow. "Chemistry..." Bonnie only hummed to herself, only then responding to the blond's nervous calls for her.

"Okay, I'm coming Jake!" she called. Marceline chuckled to herself, then meandered through the halls for her first class.

. . .

Senior year, at the very least, was shorter. Only five classes were needed: English, Chemistry, Calculus, Economics and Government. At least for Marceline, anyway. In Economics, she leaned back in her chair as the class conversed with one another, nobody willing to bring any conversations to her. Not that she minded. Marceline enjoyed the blond—Jake, by the sound of it—and LSP's conversation a table away. It wasn't anything important, and certainly not about her. Jake kept a hesitant eye on her at all times.

Over the noise level in the class room, it was somewhat of a wonder how the teacher heard the telephone speaker. "Yes?" he called, silencing the room.

"Yes, hi. The principal would like to send up Marceline to the front office."

"Oh," he said as the class erupted in whispers, "now?"

"Yes please."

"Alright, thanks." The speaker died. "Okay, Marceline? Go to the office...and bring your stuff. It won't be long until school's done."

"Alright," she mumbled, slipping from the class eagerly. Even though the classes were easy that day and there weren't many to begin with, she still felt tired of it all. And to think she had months and months to go...

Her trip to the office didn't take long, especially since she knew her way to the principal from every corner of the school. It was a badge of honor in some respects. Marceline went through the main office before finding her destination, and pulled on the handle. The door eased to a close behind her, the principal watching her from his desk. He was a heavily built man, his dark hair already balding and hard eyes focused as a hawk's from behind thinly framed glasses.

"Her?!"

Marceline, startled, jerked her attention to Bonnibel. "What?" she snapped as Bonnibel stood from the seat in front of the desk.

"Bonnibel, take a seat," Principal Boston ordered. "Both of you, actually." At that, the two obliged, settling in the large armchairs before the desk. The man took a deep breath before exhaling calmly. "If you haven't met properly yet, Bonnibel, this is Marceline and Marceline, this is Bonnibel." The two girls only glanced at each other. He cleared his throat. "In any case, the two of you will be paired together for the year. Bonnibel will help you, Miss Abadeer, with school."

Marceline shook her head. "I don't need tutoring. And I don't need her following me around all the time."

Principal Boston frowned. "It's not just for tutoring. May I remind you that the actions you've presented last year—if you were here—should've had you expelled."

"But you're the principal, aren't you?" Marceline murmured.

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

Marceline arched a brow, and dropped her trickster smile. It was then, with the steely look in Marceline's eyes, when Bonnie understood why Jake was afraid of her; she wasn't to be crossed by any means. "You're the principal. Principal's expel students. So..." A sincere curiosity hit Marceline at that moment. "So why didn't you?"

Principal Boston crossed his hands together. "I am in belief that students who struggle with obvious pressure should be given a second chance. But, now that you're testing that philosophy, I don't think it's strong."

Marceline's stare hardened, though her lips were wisely pursed. Bonnie's, however, weren't. "This is why I can't do this!" she growled. "Dad, what am I supposed to do with her? She won't listen to anybody!"

"Bonnibel, you're already on thin ice. Do not push it."

"Why her?! Why not anything else?" she continued as Marceline leaned back in her chair, intrigued.

"I said don't push it!" Principal Boston snapped. "As your principal, I may consider, but as your father, I will not. You are going to make sure Marceline here doesn't screw up another year. Understand?" Defeated, Bonnie slumped back into her seat. Her father's brows rose.

"Yes," she whispered quietly.

"Good. Go home now and we'll talk about this later," he said. "School will be done in a few minutes." Bonnibel was the first to stand and leave in one quick motion. Marceline barely caught the door as it began to close.

She turned to give one last look towards the unimpressed man. With a hitch of a grin, she said, "Nice tie."

"Marceline...get out." She snickered to herself before the door closed, leaving the principal to himself. He fiddled with his sleek, blue and green striped tie before mumbling, "But she isn't wrong though..."

Out in the hall, Marceline's smirk didn't die. Instead, it deepened once she found Bonnie at her locker. "Principal's daughter... I've heard about you last year? It figures that he'd set you up right by him." Bonnie's hard eyes switched to Marceline as the locker was slammed shut.

"I must be really famous for somebody who wasn't even here seventy-percent of the time to know that," she replied.

Marceline chuckled quietly. "Oh, but I think it was sixty-percent."

"Would you knock it off?" Bonnie growled. Marceline grew quiet, folding her arms. "God," Bonnie breathed, "I swear it's people like you who piss me off the most."

"Oh, Miss Prissy's got an attitude." She stepped forward, internally impressed that the ginger didn't back away. If anything, she took it as a challenge. "And what," she smirked, brushing her hand at Bonnie's shoulder, "people like me?"

"Yes, and don't touch me," Bonnie answered, whacking Marceline's hand away. "And yes, it's the ones that think they have the whole world in their hands, but they won't be able to get a handful at the end of the dead."

Marceline deadpanned, "How poetic."

"I agree, actually," Bonnibel said, striding away. She looked over her shoulder to say, "They're really emotional and quite tragic." By this point, Marceline's smirk had grown into a sneer, one that was just as cold and calculating as Bonnie's eyes. She gritted her teeth as Bonnie disappeared behind heavy double doors leading to the parking lot. And seconds later, students began flooding the halls, the bell shrieking from above.

This was going to be a long year. She could already tell.

Hello again. Just here to pop by and say this will be a shorter story, maybe between ten to fifteen chapters. Not promising, since I can't seem to make promises. Also, don't know how much I'll update. And yes...I know. It's a very creative and unexplored setting for these two. Couldn't help myself.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

:)