Note: So...if anyone is still reading this, I can't apologize enough for not updating in FOREVER. That being said, thank you to everyone who's been reading this and sending me messages. It really gave me the urge to write again. I've gone back and done some major re-writes/edits to the first couple of chapters in terms of dialogue and tone, so I'd recommend re-reading if you have the time. If not, just know the major plotline hasn't changed or anything. And as always, please read and review (even if it's just an emoji!) and know that I don't own any of these Bioware characters, I'm just playing with them for awhile. There is a line borrowed from Orange is the New Black for humor and not plagiarism. Also, I've just gotten a tumblr so hit me up there too, if you like. The address is in my author's profile.

7.

He strutted down the hallway like only a badass with a high, supportive waist and raptor-like legs could.

Garrus Vakarian didn't consider himself to be anything special, but there was at least one thing about him that made him different than the other students, different from perhaps the rest of the universe: he loved Mondays.

Mondays were beautiful. Mondays meant he had a fresh start. Mondays meant he had the rest of the week to look forward to, and as Senior Hall Monitor of Cerberus High, that was a lot. His position entitled him to ten extra minutes out of every class to patrol the halls, on the lookout for truants. He got his own notepad of slips to assign detention as he saw fit, emblazoned with Cerberus's school insignia. But most of all, he was granted the enviable pride of keeping the school in order and maintaining discipline. Like any proper turian, Garrus loved discipline.

So, he strutted, his keen eyes sharp and love for public service blazing. It was his off-block, and while technically he was to use this time for lunch, Garrus used it to patrol for an extra hour and a half. Doing his duty was no easy task, especially when there were idiots blatantly smoking in the bathroom, idiots like -

"Harkin," Garrus intoned smoothly, letting the door to the males' restroom slam shut as he strolled in. "What a surprise."

"Vakarian," the aforementioned idiot muttered with a curl of his lip. He deliberately took one last heavy drag off of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground, stubbing it out with the heel of his shoe. Garrus twitched, his hands just itching to reach for his pad of detention slips.

"Smoking and littering this time," Garrus observed. "How original."

"That's me," sneered Harkin, ignoring the blatant sarcasm hurled his way.

Trying not to grind his mandibles, the turian adjusted his hall monitor badge pointedly. "Well, to be completely honest, that's not really the most accurate description of you. Original? Nah. Human equivalent of rotting garbage? Oh, yes."

Harkin crossed his arms. "I shudder to think what other insults you can try to throw at me," he drawled.

"Meanwhile, I just shudder at the thought of you attempting to think. Now, I think I've got just enough counts against you to warrant a suspension..."

"Vakarian, have you ever thought that you took your position just a little too seriously? Your kind of high-horse attitude is exactly why I quit being a Hall Monitor."

Garrus snorted. "Really? Because I could've sworn it was your blatant abuse of authority that got you kicked out against your will."

"I fuckin' wanted to leave," came Harkin's protest.

"Is that why you cried in the hallway for half an hour after you got booted?"

The bathroom door swung open again, this time with a resounding slam that morphed Garrus's triumphant smirk into a scowl. "Do you mind?" Garrus grumbled, not bothering to turn around and face the intruder.

"I do, actually."

Garrus's scowl deepened. "What could you possibly want, Saren?"

"Considering we are in a bathroom, one would first assume that it would be to use the facilities," Saren replied, nodding his head towards the stalls.

"One would."

Saren merely ignored Garrus's comment, and instead turned his head towards Harkin. "Harkin. How good to see you."

"Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, yeah, like you weren't just standing here waiting for something," Garrus bit out. "Cut the crap, guys. If you want to have a little dickweed convention between the two of you, do it on your own time. Both of you need to get back to class."

"So crass, Vakarian," Saren tutted. He glanced at the notepad in Garrus's hand. "I see you haven't lost your penchant for handing out detention slips."

"Try suspension," retorted Garrus. "And I've got a slip that has your name written all over it, if you insist on not minding your own business, as usual."

"Oh, it's not just my business. It's the business of the Student Council, something for which I require Mr. Harkin's presence."

"Looks like that suspension will have to wait, Officer Vakarian," Harkin smiled.

"Like hell it will. If you think that something as trivial as the student presidency supersedes actual codes of conduct -"

Saren held a hand up, cutting in smoothly. "Want to try me?"

"I report directly to the assistant principal. Don't doubt that he'll hear about this."

"Sidonis?" Saren laughed. The other turian took a step closer, trying to tower over Garrus despite the scant height difference. "Despite how much you hate the man? How's that feel, reporting to someone you don't believe in?"

Garrus spluttered. "Besides the point. Whatever dipshit Council matters you want to discuss," he growled, "they don't negate the fact he was in here smoking."

Harkin plucked the cigarette butt off the ground, easily flicking it out the window. "Was I, Saren?"

"Not to my knowledge," Saren shrugged. "Two against one." He gestured towards Harkin, beckoning him towards the bathroom door. "Feel free to take this up with your boss, Vakarian," Saren tossed over his shoulder. "We'll be waiting."

Garrus glared at the door as it slammed shut, barely flinching at the loud noise it made.

Perhaps he didn't like Mondays so much after all.

"All right. Here's what you'll need. You're certain this will work?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course it will. I've got it handled. Don't worry about it so much."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"S-sorry. I…I just meant…it's a solid plan, I think. It'll work."

"I'm not paying you to think. Just do what I've told you and then meet up with the other guy. He'll handle the rest."

The final bell rang over the intercom, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Miranda Lawson really hated Mondays, but she had a particular distaste for this one.

It was with good reason, she supposed. She'd given Oriana the cold shoulder all throughout breakfast and the car ride to school, which was awkward and tense enough. Then Miranda realized she'd left some of her homework at home, forcing her to make excuses like an incompetent fool to her teacher. And then, of course, at least four girls on her squad were forced to skip practice because their parents grounded them for Saturday's antics. How was she supposed to prepare her team for nationals when half of them weren't even there?

But what bothered her the most was something she would never admit. Miranda had steeled herself all of Sunday and this morning, mentally going over what she was going to say to Darby, should she present herself. Miranda thought of what insults she'd spew, what faults she'd point out, what smart retorts she would say should Darby fight back - but none of it mattered. They shared one class, but it was like Miranda didn't exist: Darby never looked her way and never acknowledged her presence. She either passed notes to Jack or doodled in her notebook the entire class, ignoring Miranda entirely. That was off-putting - nobody ignored Miranda Lawson - but not as disconcerting as the fact that Miranda found herself subconsciously seeking Darby out the whole day afterwards, looking for that familiar flash of black hair and blue eyes in the hallways and the cafeteria at lunch. She didn't even notice what she was doing until Niket had asked her who she was looking for as they walked to their lockers.

"Nobody," she replied. Darby was nowhere in sight anyway, and Miranda sighed, registering a strange surge of... was it disappointment? Miranda scowled. If she were to feel disappointed, it was only because she lost her chance to tell that delinquent off one more time.

Apparently it was a satisfactory answer, as Niket decided to change the subject. "So it's nearly the end of the month – in just two weeks, campaigning will be over and it'll be Election Day already. Can you believe it?" he said, shoving a book into his locker.

Miranda, leaning against the next locker over, bit furiously into an apple she'd procured from her bag. "Yes, because I have eyes and a calendar," she retorted.

"Hey," Niket said, shooting her a side-glance. "I'm sorry your weekend was rough, but don't treat me like shit because of it."

Miranda looked remorseful, swallowing the bite she'd just taken. "You're right. I'm sorry." No longer feeling hungry, Miranda walked over to the nearest trashcan to dispose of the barely-eaten apple. "I'm a bit...preoccupied."

"You mean stressed," Niket clarified. "Either from the election, the shitty weekend you just had, the project for Udina's class you have yet to do, the fact that you haven't gotten laid in forever-"

"I get it!" snapped Miranda. "Jesus Christ, Niket."

"Just saying."

"Why do men always assume that I'm interested in what they're "just saying"?" Miranda frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, Niket. It's been a long day. But I just have to get through practice and then it'll be over."

"Well, if it's really been that bad, it can only get better from here, right?" Niket asked, looking hopeful.

"What an optimistic way to say, 'well, it can't get any worse.'"

Niket chose to ignore the muttered comment. "Does Oriana have practice today, too?" he asked, fishing his car keys out of his bag as they walked to the student parking lot. "Did you even talk to her about Saturday?"

"No and no," Miranda said. "Oriana doesn't even have a debate tournament coming up anymore," Miranda replied coldly. "So what would be the point of practice? I'm letting her ride the bus home today."

Niket stopped in his tracks. "You're making her stay out of the tournament?" At Miranda's nod, he looked at her incredulously. "They need her! The debate team lost six times in a row before she joined."

Still walking, Miranda called over her shoulder to Niket. "Should've thought about that before she decided to attempt alcohol poisoning this weekend, no?" She arrived at her car, unlocking it and removing her cheerleading gear from the trunk before slamming it shut. "I'll see you later," she said, effectively ending the conversation.

Niket just sighed.

Miranda Lawson was going to kill her best friend.

Miranda was certain that Niket had jinxed her when he said things couldn't get any worse, because what else could explain the fact that it indeed, get worse? Much worse.

Cheerleading practice was absolute shit: with half the team gone and the rest of it somehow still hungover, their routines looked more like drunk zombies trying to learn the polka. Her drive home was awful: some asshole cut her off and then had the audacity to give her the finger as he sped away. And finally, actually being home was no better. Miranda had barely entered the kitchen when she was ambushed.

"Are you just going to ignore me for forever?" Oriana said, leaning in the doorjamb and crossing her arms. "It's been two days, Randa. I thought you were going to let me plead my case to you or whatever."

Miranda's bag dropped on the table loudly. "That was if I ever got over the urge to strangle you." She blissfully ignored her sister's scowl, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. The cool, crisp refreshment soothed only her throat and not her growing irritation. She felt tired and crabby and she just wanted to be in bed, brooding under the covers.

"You aren't being fair," Oriana accused.

It was the exhaustion and shitty day that had Miranda hanging by a thread, but Oriana had just cut through that thread like a hot knife through butter. "I'm not being fair?" repeated the older girl in disbelief. Miranda slammed the plastic bottle down on the table. "Do you think this is easy for me?" she asked.

Scowling, Oriana stood straight and looked her older sister in the eye. "What, like punishing me is so difficult," she snapped. Oriana put on a severe look and had her arms akimbo in her attempt at an impression. "Ori, do your homework. Ori, go to bed. Ori, you're grounded for trying to live your life," she mocked in a poor imitation of an Australian accent. "Yeah, that's really difficult."

"I'm trying to help you!"

"By trying to control me?" Oriana retorted.

"No, I-" Miranda's stomach dropped. Was that how Oriana actually saw things? Like Miranda wanted to control her?

God. In that case, she'd be no better than their father, and Miranda couldn't think of a fate any worse than that.

At that moment, her body decided to betray her too. Miranda felt hot tears of anger and frustration forming despite her every effort to quell them. "I just want the best for you, Oriana."

"The best," Oriana sneered. "It's always about being the best with you, sis. We all get it: you're perfect. Perfect grades, perfect looks-"

"I'm not perfect!" Miranda screamed, absolutely livid. She had shouted Oriana into silence, and the younger girl just stared at her in shock. "I'm so fucking sick of people saying that! I make mistakes like everyone else, damn it, and I have to pay for them twice over." Miranda forced herself to ignore the burning in her eyes, the growing lump in her throat, the way her vision was starting to go blurry from the tears. "Sure, more things come to me easily than for most people, but I still work hard, Oriana, for a lot of things."

"Miranda-"

"And you know what?" Miranda didn't even wait for an answer. "The one thing I've had to work my hardest for was being the best older sister you could have." She wiped at her eyes quickly, ignoring the way her voice broke. "Because let's face it...with Father practically nonexistent save for his weekly check and monthly visit...all we've got, Ori, is each other."

"Miranda," Oriana whispered.

"I never meant to hurt you. And trust me," Miranda said softly, "The last thing I would ever want is for you to feel like I'm controlling you."

There was a distinct heaviness in Oriana's chest, weighing her down and making her stomach sink. All her anger and bitterness was gone, and in its place remained a horrible guilt that she felt down to her very bones. She took a hesitant step towards her sister, almost frightened by the fact that she brought Miranda near tears. She hadn't seen Miranda cry in over a decade.

But suddenly Miranda took a step back and scrubbed a hand down her face, clearing all evidence of tears. "We'll...we'll talk about this later, okay? I just...I need a shower," she finished, already grabbing her things from the table.

"Okay," Oriana said, but Miranda was already gone.

"What do you think they're up to, exactly?"

Garrus shifted, tucking the phone between his shoulder and neck in order to have both hands free. "I don't know, but I don't like it."

"Well, I think it seems weird. What would someone like Saren want to do with someone like Harkin?" Tali's voice was tinny through the phone connection.

"Exactly my point," Garrus replied. He twirled the tiny screwdriver in his hand as he squinted, looking more closely at the exposed guts of his computer. "There," he muttered, finding the culprit. Garrus secured the loosely connected wires so that they were snug in place.

"There what?"

"Nothing. I was trying to overclock the CPU on this piece of crap –"

"You are so going to fry that thing someday," Tali interrupted. "Then you're going to be running to your genius BFF Tali, crying and saying 'oh Tali, if only I had listened to your wisdom before, you're so much smarter than I am—'"

Garrus snorted. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence."

"Mm. Maybe you wouldn't cry, but everything else is obviously true."

"Anyway," said Garrus, clearing his throat, "I was in the middle of some calibrations when it just shut off. Loose connection somewhere, is all."

"Whatever you say."

"Ugh," Garrus grumbled. "Back to the matters at hand…do you think I should say anything? To Assistant Principal Sidonis, I mean."

"If it's just about the smoking thing, then unfortunately, Harkin did get rid of the evidence. And if it were just your word against Harkin's, that'd be one thing. But Saren's word is just as good as yours: he's a straight-A student, member of the student council—"

"Grade-A prick."

"That too," Tali agreed. "But I would just keep an eye on them. There's really nothing you could report to Sidonis right now, and your hunch won't be enough to get that coward to do anything anyway."

"You're right," Garrus let out a heavy sigh. "As always."

"But of course."

Garrus rolled his eyes even though Tali couldn't see him. "Now what's this about a crazy rager on Saturday night? Is that the same party you went to?"

"Keelah, yes. It was crazy! The cops showed up, I had a little too much to drink, and I think I tried to steal a stop sign on the way home…"

When Miranda had said they would talk about it later, she must've meant far later than Oriana expected. After showering, Miranda had bee-lined straight to her room and didn't come out for the rest of the night, not even for dinner.

This morning wasn't any better. Miranda had barely spoken a word at all, and the only way she had even acknowledged Oriana's presence was handing her some toast for breakfast. They both ate without a word: the only noise in the kitchen was the sound of their breathing and crunching. When it was time to leave for school, they packed their things, buckled in, and drove off in more uncomfortable silence.

It took a few minutes before Oriana realized this would be the only chance to speak she'd ever get, considering Miranda was trapped in the car with her until they got to school. She had ideas of what she wanted to say and had stayed up all night rehearsing, but now her mind was disturbingly blank. There was a lump in her throat she had to swallow back before she finally just blurted, "I'm sorry."

Miranda looked exhausted as she took one hand off the steering wheel and used it to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her gaze never left the road. "Oriana…" she sighed.

"Just…just let me talk, okay? You said your piece last night and I want to say mine," Oriana pleaded.

"Fine."

"I'm…I'm so, so sorry," Oriana repeated. "I'm sorry for going to the party when you told me not to, I'm sorry I stupidly got very drunk and careless, and I'm sorry for what I said last night. I didn't mean any of it, I was just…I was just being a brat and being spiteful, even though…" Oriana's voice quavered. "Even though I love you and I know that you're only trying to look out for me. That all you've ever done is take care of me."

"Do you even understand why I'm so upset?" Miranda asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I didn't listen to you," Oriana admitted.

"No, Ori." Miranda ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I mean, granted, yes, I don't like it when you don't listen to me, but I don't expect you to do it all the time."

"Because I snuck out and got drunk?"

"Because what you did was so, so dangerous. So many things could've gone wrong. So many things could've been much worse than just throwing up a few times and being hungover the next day. I mean, I…I don't even want to think about what terrible things could've happened to you. I can't." She blinked, then sighed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was more upset than angry, to be honest. And last night…I just had a rough day yesterday," Miranda confessed.

"And I didn't make it any better," Oriana added. "I'm such a tool. No. I'm worse than that. I'm like, a whole bag full of tools."

"You mean a toolbag?" Miranda couldn't help the snort she let out. "I wouldn't go that far, Ori."

"Maybe not…but you're right. I never thought of things that way," Oriana admitted. "I really just thought you were mad because I disobeyed you."

"Well, I certainly didn't enjoy that, but no. That wasn't it."

"Am…Am I forgiven?" Oriana asked hesitatingly. "I just…I can't stand when you're upset with me."

"Neither can I," Miranda said with the smallest hint of a smile on her lips. "You're officially forgiven," she added. "But don't think that means you're automatically not grounded anymore."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," said Oriana, reaching across the console to squeeze her sister's free hand. "I'm just glad we're okay."

Miranda squeezed back as she brought the car to a stop at the intersection. "We are," she reassured her, "and we can re-negotiate the terms of your punishment later, all right?"

"Sounds like a plan, sis."

Miranda gave Oriana one last smile before turning her attention back to the road. She made sure to check on her right and left before accelerating through the crossroads, and that's when she noticed the bent metal pole with the sign hanging off. "Huh. I wonder what happened to that stop sign."

"Did you really have to fly through that last one? I'm no academic, but I'm pretty sure 'S-T-O-P' spells stop," Darby commented as she slipped off the motorcycle and removed her helmet.

"The sign was all fucked up so I barely saw it," Jack retorted, taking off her own helmet. "Besides, at least I didn't run anybody over, right?"

"It's not that," Darby shook her head. "Somebody could've run us over instead, and I'm far too pretty to die."

Jack snorted. "You narcissistic fuck. Fine. You want me to go the speed limit next time too, grandma?"

"Why, yes, dearie," Darby answered in an old crone's voice. "Here," she said, giving her backpack to Jack, "carry my things too, won't you? My arthritis is acting up."

"Got a better idea," Jack said before swatting Darby with it. She ignored Darby's yelp and instead, looked around the parking lot for some familiar faces. A pair in particular caught her interest. "Hey, Darby, looks like Thing 1 has forgiven Thing 2."

"What?" Darby asked, confused.

"Look," Jack said, pointing at two figures getting out of a car that was parked a few spaces down. Darby looked to see Miranda, laughing at something Oriana was saying and wrapping her arm around the younger girl's shoulders in a brief hug. Then the two sisters linked arms and walked to the school entrance together.

"Huh. Well, good for Oriana, I guess."

"You gonna try and talk to the cheerleader now that she's in a better mood?"

Darby scoffed. "Why would I?"

"I don't know, dude, you're the one who was madly in love with her like four days ago."

"Oh my god, I wasn't madly in love," Darby argued. "And I have no intention of even acknowledging her existence anymore, if she's so intent on belittling mine. I don't want to have anything to do with her. I don't even want to look in her general direction. Fuck, I wouldn't even fart in her general direction."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Probably shouldn't have said anything," she muttered to herself. To Darby, she added, "You do know you still have that project to work on together?"

"I'm unfortunately very aware," grumbled Darby.

"So, genius, how are you going to do that if you're not even going to acknowledge her existence?"

"Morse code and a third party. I don't know. I'll figure something out," she muttered.

"Well, whatever you do, make sure that I'm there to see it. I love having free tickets to a shitshow."

"I'm so glad you can always see the bright side in things, Jack."

"Thanks for walking me to class, sis," Oriana said, standing just outside her classroom's doorway. "I'll see you after school?"

"Yes. And yes, you can ride back home with me. You don't have to ride the bus today."

"Awesome! You should go though, before the bell rings. But oh," Oriana looked as though she just remembered something. "I'm not sure when I'll see her again, so can you tell Darby 'thank you' for me?"

"What?" Miranda laughed a little in disbelief. "You're being sarcastic, right?"

"No, I'm serious," Oriana said. "Tell her I said thanks."

"Why would I do that? Better yet, why would you want me to do that?"

Oriana rolled her eyes. "I know you hate her, but you could at least tell her of my appreciation if you won't show yours."

"Appreciation? For dragging you to that party? I'll do no such thing." Miranda scowled.

"No," Oriana's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Darby didn't take me… Kelly invited me, I wanted to go, and I snuck there myself."

"…What?" Miranda suddenly looked a little pale.

"Yeah," Oriana explained, "The only thing Darby did was hold my hair back when I was throwing up and take me home before the cops busted the party."

"Hold your hair…? Wait, there were cops involved? Oriana!"

"Don't start getting mad again!"

"I'm not, I just…"

"The only reason I didn't get caught is because of Darby. Kelly texted me and told me that she's the one that got me out of there and took me home. Granted, I could've done without all the 'omg she's so cool and badass' and the gratuitous heart emojis, but whatever."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, she's got a mad crush on Darby, and –"

"No, I meant about Darby and how she took care of you."

"Well, yeah. I mean, who even told you that Darby dragged me there? Because that's so not what happened."

"N-nobody, I just – "

"Oh. I see," Oriana pursed her lips. "You just jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst."

"No…?" Miranda said feebly.

"Miranda!"

"Okay, okay! Maybe." Miranda at least had the decency to look remorseful.

"Okay, then now you can go thank Darby for me, and apologize for yourself while you're at it," Oriana said firmly. The first tones of the bell started to ring over the intercom. "Now go. Don't be late to class, Randa. I'll see you later."

"Fine," Miranda sighed, waving a quick goodbye before hurrying towards her first class… The class she had with Darby. "Damn it."

Maybe she was starting to hate Tuesdays too.