Thread: You Again? (rpfiend_123 & AnnaBeth Belle)

RE You Again? Me again, she said and stuck her tongue out at him. She'd known Mr. Stevenson since 7th grade and even though he was her high school assistant principal, Brooke Srednicki still used the same greeting even when in the halls of Clarendon High. It landed her in detention once when the principal saw it and she didn't protest him getting on to her so that she wouldn't get Mr. Stevenson in trouble. Grateful, he'd repaid her by stopping by Marble Slab with her and Samantha on the way home and letting them go absolutely stupid with ice cream until they both lay, heads together, in the back seat and moaned happily all the way home, hands on their upset tummies. Neither mom had been happy about it of course. Brooke waved good-bye to her parents and blew them a kiss off her hand, just as she had done several summers in a row, then turned back to where Mr. Stevenson stood in the doorway, keeping her from coming in. That's cool, she answered back, I'll just wait till they're out of sight and then go home and throw wild parties and, you know, drink, she joked. Smoke. Have boys over. Get arrested. Ruin my chances of getting in college or ever marrying a nice Jewish doctor like mom wants. End up on an episode of Teen Moms that Samantha will watch and then Snapchat about how she knew me before I was famous. Heck, Mr. Stevenson, I might even be tardy to class! With a laugh she eeled past him, lithe body slipping easily between his and the door though her hips and breasts rubbed momentarily on Mike's body. Samantha's still in bed? Brooke asked though she knew the answer. Friends they might be but the girls were opposite in so many ways. Sam was a tall blonde like Mike and had the muscular legs of the soccer player she was, along with his strong facial features, Brooke was petite and redheaded and had much softer lines on her face. Not at all muscular, she was almost too thin and when she was out at the pool the bones of her shoulders and shoulder blades showed. Sam slept in, Brooke got up early enough to wake up the birds. Sam preferred sweats and t-shirts and Chucks with her hair up in a sloppy ponytail like the tomboy she was, Brooke was always put together and had product in her styled hair and wore strappy sandals or cute low heels. Sam aced math and science, Brooke was a natural writer and loved history. They even had different religions, wildly different Sam was Protestant and Brooke Jewish. It made for interesting holiday meshings and out of sync temple and church nights. Usually Brooke also attended the youth service with Sam but Sam never went to temple. Claire wouldn't hear of it. Like she could convert her, geez. You got being Jewish from your mom, not what you chose. Brooke didn't like Claire Stevenson at all. Early on she'd figured out that Claire was completely self-absorbed and it was Mr. Stevenson who really took care of everything. Not only did he keep the high school under strict but loving control, he did most of the traditional female roles in the house. He even bought the girls pads when they needed them. What other Dad did that? And got it right? None of them. Mr. Stevenson was just the best. Claire Stevenson was an idiot. Sam had let on that her parents fought a lot, like all the time, and her dad even slept in the guest bedroom or the couch a lot. Mrs. Stevenson better be careful, Brooke thought, or Ms. Elder the cute new art teacher who was seriously crushing on the assistant principal might lead him into painting her canvas. The foyer smelled like clean laundry, and so did Mr. Stevenson. Just then she heard a buzz from the laundry room, signaling another load was ready. I'll help you fold them, she told Mr. Stevenson. Then I'll get Ms. Varsity Soccer Star out of bed. Last year, as a freshman, Samantha had made the varsity team. It was quite an accomplishment then and remained impressive as the girls moved from being sophomores to juniors come September. The laundry room was close and hot, and as she bent over to spill the clothes out of the dryer into the basket her bottom bumped into Mr. Stevenson. Not thinking anything of it, Brooke finished then stood up and began pulling items out of the basket and folding them. A twisted mess came up in her hand one of Samantha's bras had gotten tangled into a knot around a blouse. Geez, Mr. Stevenson, you never learn. Gotta put bras in a delicates bag. With a shake of her head, Brooke expertly untangled the bra and then held it out at arms length. Ew. Ew, ew, ew. It was plain cotton, a faded cream color, and was almost ragged. A hook was missing and the cover over one padded cup was torn. Okay, this is just sad, Mr. Stevenson. Even for Sammy. You're going to take us to the mall today and let me help her buy some new bras. And panties, she added looking in the basket and seeing that they were equally in need of replacement. Or you can give us your car keys and credit card and we can go alone, she teased, knowing that would never happen.