Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans and anything else recognizable.
Before the era of the legendary Teen Titans of Jump City, calm had swept all around the rather large suburb of Gothem City, save one place. As always, school– more important, high school– always created the best, most intriguing and juicy drama known to man. It was only a given that the one public high school in Jump City– named, unoriginally, Jump City High– would ensue twice the amount of daily emotional wonder a normal high school supplies, based solely on four random, individual students.
One of them, currently, was in the shadows of a more discreet part of the outside campus, his suspicious eyes darting sneakily around at the passing giggling, laughing students.
Pulling the boy's attention away from the carefree kids was a voice laced with slight skepticism. "Serious Arfy, don't ya think this prank could have been a little more complex? What kind of byzantine message are we trying to display across the school with a few measly stink bombs?"
"Are you kidding?" Garfield Logan, a trademark class clown decked out to a T with the handy accessories such as rainbow suspenders, colorful pants filled with skillful attribute– i.e. a red clown nose, chattering, coiled teeth, and an unattached, water-shooting flower– and a cap sporting a 'thumbs-up' on the brim of it's blue fabric, said with a mischievous grin, "Never, never speak ill of the classics, Luke." With his green eyes– which happened to match his eerie green skin and hair– Garfield looked up to his slightly taller companion, Luke Brisky, and went on as snippily as he could, "And don't call me Arfy! Call me Gar. It's much cooler."
"That's debatable," a passerby taunted as his hand reached out to yank the hat off Garfield's head, pushing it down on his own black hair. The black haired boy's friends snickered as he shot Garfield and Luke a rude smirk before continuing on into the building. One of his followers bumped shoulders with Luke, another soundly pushing the much smaller Garfield back, causing him to loose balance and fall into a pile of mud. More laughter was barked, only to be dulled by their entrance into the school and the door slamming shut behind them.
With a sigh, Garfield picked himself back up and wiped his green hand over his shirt, shuddering an emitting a girly squeak when he pulled back and saw the brown mud cover it completely. "Gross," he moaned.
"Don't get all soprano on my, Gar," Luke enunciated, rolling his eyes. Garfield's eyes followed Luke as said kid walked to a bench and sat his ragged, red backpack down on the bench and pulled the zipper open. "Luckily, due to last week's occurrence, I vowed to myself that I would always carry spare clothes." He pulled out a mustard yellow T-shirt at that moment, accentuating his point, and tossed it over to the smaller boy, "There."
"Thanks, man," Garfield said, picking up his own backpack and walking towards the school, "I'll just make a stop at the bathroom before English class."
Luke snickered and followed, "You're really weird about changing in front of people."
"Hey," Garfield was quick to defend himself, "I'm not exactly the type of guy babes are gonna drool over. I'm the type of guy that passes the girls out by the mere sight of my body. I'm not about to have twenty or so of these girls," Garfield looked back longingly at the gentler sex still surrounding the school building, "drop unconscious all because of me."
Luke burst out laughing as he opened the door, making to go in before Garfield went on with another squeal. "What?" Luke asked, turning around to stare at him oddly. Garfield had his head turned to stare over his shoulders and down at his bottom. Luke followed his gaze and instantly barked out laughter.
"Dude, it's not funny!" said Garfield, still staring down at the large mud spot concealing almost all of his backside, "You've got a spare pair of shorts or jeans or something, don't you?"
"Yeah," Luke laughed, "but you're not getting those."
"What?" Garfield exploded.
"Dude, I'm not lending you my fatigues. That's just weird," said Luke, calming slightly.
"Dude," Garfield continued as Luke turned around and entered the building. He followed him in, chattering pleadingly.
"Oh, hello, Raven," greeted the plump, happy librarian who always insisted on wearing a name tag, sporting a clear 'Mrs. Plato' above her right breast pocket. She was standing behind the checkout counter, stamping the inside covers of a large pile of books. Flashing the newcomer a bright grin, Mrs. Plato continued, "It's been a bit busy in here today. I think you'll have your hands quite full restocking the shelves."
Inwardly, Raven Roth, with her dark violet hair, pale skin, dressed in a black, long sleeved, knee-length skirt, with netted stockings covering the rest of her legs that weren't ranged over with her large combat boots, groaned. At that point in the school year, she really had no idea why she signed on as a library aid. Mrs. Plato was a dear, of course, but her over-maternal instincts mostly made Raven's skin crawl. It took more effort that it was worth just to suppress shudders from shaking her form.
At first, the thought of spending an hour out of the day in the library with books instead of inside a stuffy classroom with her peers was incredibly appealing. That was before she had personally met Mrs. Plato, and realized that her time there wouldn't be spent in solitude without work. No, she had to assist students too stupid enough not to find a book in the alphabetized library, sort through the different genres of literature, and walk around with piles upon piles of the pages in her arms to return them to their original locations.
Not that she hated some work, but she would have rather sat in the most secluded area and read, away from people.
With a discreet sigh, Raven nodded and picked up a pile, "Be back in a few hours," she muttered sarcastically and inaudibly, looking back at the rest of the piles.
"Raven, hey Roth," the voice penetrated through her thoughts as Raven walked over to a random shelf and began to place a few of the books in their appropriate location. She looked over her shoulder and saw another girl her age standing their, dressed in the same shades and style as she herself was.
"Genevieve," she acknowledged, looking at the spine of another book to look for the author's last name. Looking back up, she brushed a hair out of her eyes and said, "What's up?"
"Just heard from Quentin before third," Genevieve immediately jumped in, flicking a spiral, bright red, curl from her face, "There's a local band concert downtown tonight around nine. You're coming, right?"
Raven stocked another book, "I don't know. Probably not with the way my mom and I parted this morning."
"Raven," Genevieve huffed and leaned against a bookshelf, crossing her arms over her black shirt, "I didn't skip fourth period to personally inform you of this and have you decline."
Raven shrugged and continued on with her actions.
"Quentin will be disappointed," her friend went on, with a small smirk. She knew that would hit a nerve, "He distinctly told me to tell you about it."
To Genevieve's satisfaction, Raven paused her movements, then slowly turned to face her. "Alright," she conceded, "Fine, I'll be there tonight."
"First and main," Genevieve informed her with a grin, "the old warehouse. We'll be there around nine-thirty, so be on time."
"Am I ever late?" Raven mumbled as she went back to her job, and Genevieve walked out.
"And. . .begin!"
Instantly, cheers and undecipherable shouts sounded, and echoed, throughout the school cafeteria. A large crowd filled with students, and some teachers, was huddled around two mobile figures.
"Bust him down, Stone!"
"Waste him!"
Victor Stone, tall, dark and handsome as he was normally, was now the picture perfect image of a famished pig, his cheeks bulging out from the twelve full french fries and a forced-in bite of one of the numerous cheeseburgers that lay before him and his opponent, Grant Stewart– an acquaintance of Vic's, equal in size and stamina, with red, shaggy hair. It had all started out innocently enough, with Grant lightly jesting about how much of a sissy Vic was for not springing for another burger. Vic had retaliated by 'accidently' knocking Grant's own burger off the side of the table with his elbow. That's when Grant suggested a food competition.
After a little flirting with a lunch lady, Grant had gotten them a free supply of cheeseburgers to consume. All it took was a few people to get out the large box of already made burgers and drag it to the table, and they were set.
"What's it up to?" someone asked from the crowd to her friend.
"Vic had five so far, Grant's on his fifth," a younger boy answered.
If he could have, Vic would had chuckled tauntingly to Grant. All he could do though, for the moment, was to let his eyes show the humor in all this as he connected gazes with his advisory.
"I'm surprised a teacher hasn't broken this up yet," a girl with a disproving look on her face frowned at the show in front of her.
"Are you kidding, Bree?" a guy standing next to her with his arm encircled around her waist pulled her closer, "The teachers are supporting it. Look," he laughed.
The art teacher, Mr. Thesase, must have heard, because he stood up straighter and stared somewhat sheepishly at a few of the kids that had turned his way. He grinned and shrugged his bulky shoulders before going back to watching the food competition.
It went on for another five minutes before the first sign of hesitation reached either one of them. That act of indecisiveness was made by Grant, discreetly looking to Vic as the other boy just happily munched down the remains of his eighth burger. Instantly, Grant went back to his seventh, with a lot more force and determination.
"Dude, watch them go!" Garfield's inimitable voice was heard only slightly over the crowd's buzz.
Vic downed another burger, beginning to feel the unmistakable feeling of fullness in his gut, but persisted. Grant narrowed his eyes slightly, and pushed half of another burger in his mouth. Vic pushed an entire one into his mouth, struggling to chew. A few kids had to hold back some to prevent them from clapping the participants on the shoulders.
With a harder glare, Grant reached out his hand for yet another burger, instantly forcing the whole thing into his mouth, fighting to chew. Tied, neck in neck, at ten.
Suddenly, Grant's jaw stopped it's movements, his eyes widening. His hand went limp, causing the large slab of meat to fall with the bun to his plate. Vic kept going for a few moments, not noticing his friend's pause. The crowd did, though, as the murmurs grew, matching the way Grant's eyes grew.
Looking up, Vic's jaw stopped as he stared at his friend with confusion.
"Mrat," he said in a questioning tone, the food in his mouth keeping his voice muffled.
Grant raised a hand to his neck, beginning to turn slightly purple. Vic spit out his foot and stood, as the people around him caught on to what was happening.
"Oh my God, he's choking!" someone screeched.
Frantic shouts sounded around, a few people running off to inform the nurse. Vic jogged around the table and began to firmly hit Grant on the back. "Grant!" he exclaimed, a few more of their friends coming around.
Someone pushed through the crowd. Someone with black hair, and a blue 'thumbs up' cap.
"Out of the way!" he snapped at some freshmen, coming up to Vic's side, momentarily staring down at Grant.
The teachers that had been watching the food competition also pushed forward, making themselves useful and keeping the growing crowd back. Quickly, the guy stood Grant up and began the heimlich maneuver.
Vic watched with bated breath, growing more and more nervous as Grant grew bluer.
"Yo, Dick, man, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Vic asked the black-haired guy, who in turn stared back at him for a moment.
"Yeah," he said gruffly.
Just as Blake, one of Vic and Grant's friends a few feet away, was going to open his mouth and have someone else do something, Grant coughed, a large piece of hamburger flying across the crowd to hit Garfield straight on in the center of his forehead. He squeaked and fell back against a group of five girls, each one of them screaming as they lost their balance and fell to the ground, Garfield right on top of them.
With much louder shrieks, Garfield flew off of the girls, blushing like mad while the group cursed at him, quite a few guys laughing.
Gasping for precious oxygen, Grant leaned against the table, pushing away his friends' worried arms and hands. "I'm fine," he said amidst murmurs and mumbles, "I'm fine. I just need to sit. . ." with that, he collapsed back to his seat.
"Who won?" he asked at once, his eyes traveling back up to Vic.
Vic narrowed his gaze and shrugged, "I don't know!"
"Hey, Dick, thanks, man," Grant said, turning his gaze to the slightly shorter guy as he stood again, clapping him on the back.
"No prob, Stewart," Dick said, smirking slightly, "It was bound to happen sooner or later with the way you stuff your face."
Grant grinned good-naturedly as Vic clapped Dick on the back, wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling him closer, taking his other hand to bestow a mighty noogie on the hero's hair.
A/N: Hey all. Hope you like. It's my first Teen Titan fic, so go easy. Don't worry, Starfire will make her appearance soon. For future reference, this will be a Starfire/Robin fic later on.