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Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
It was with an open laugh and a tray full of defiled cupcakes that Deb was purposefully forced out of the room.
The mistake had been in thinking that the elder Barok daughter would behave herself within the culinary classroom. It had all been for fun and practice, rather than an assignment after all. Which was how she's gotten in there in the first place. Yet the troublemaker had proven exactly why she was labeled as such when convenient dents were found in the icing of select cupcakes. Cupcakes whose coloring had gone through a rainbow blender.
It was only when the evidence of her meddling had started to near a dozen that she'd been sent out of the room.
Deb responded to the scowling face of her friend by sticking out her tongue. Before the door even shut she was wearing a grin. Not a lick of regret coursed through her. After all, it wasn't like she'd messed with the best ones. Only the ones already deformed. A little too much icing. Cake that was a little unbalanced and lopsided. Botched decoration. All the excuses needed for Deb to feel justified.
Not that she'd really needed them.
Picking up one of the "imperfect" cupcakes, Deb took a big bite. This one had too much icing. Just enough to leave some traces of it around her mouth while trying to eat it. Perfect. She was smiling with delight when she noticed someone else standing in the hall. Regardless of who it was, the girl with wildly-colored hair put down her half eaten cupcake to pick up a new one. Which she then extended towards her observer as she licked her lips free of evidence and smiled lopsidedly. "Cupcake?"
Chandler hadn't been here for long and she'd already managed to get herself lost. The new school (Could even be regarded as such still?) looked nothing like the school she'd attended back in Montana. She'd thought she'd known every inch of it back then, and she'd regarded that information proudly, but now... Well, she wasn't sure what she'd expected. She hadn't expected the layout to be the exact same, but similarities, sure!
With furrowed brows, the Brit studied the label above one of the rooms. "What the..." She muttered to herself. This wasn't at all where she'd been trying to go.
Thankfully, the sound of a voice brought her out of her inner mutterings and contemplation. Turning her head, her brown eyes landed upon a tray of really, really ugly cupcakes. Eyes lifted, tracing upwards from the tray until finally, landing upon a set of grayish blue. "What?" She blinked at her. Had she not been too busy trying to convince herself she wasn't that bad at directions, she might have caught the girl's words. But she didn't. And there was no point in trying to save her face.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
Her first response would have been laughter to a look like that. Complete and utter confusion. Not such an uncommon sight for Deb. Still, she replaced the laughter with a wider smile.
"Cupcake?" She repeated her offer. The treat in question was still extended towards the other girl- given a little shake to draw attention to it. This one had a vaguely deformed cake. "They taste much better than they look. Trust me." Whether or not the offered cake was taken, Deb would eventually go back to eating her own. All while observing the surprised observer.
There was plenty to look at, but she was after something in particular. Something about that posture and expression cinched it. She swallowed first before speaking up. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you lost?" Here came the toss.
Perhaps it was the girl's demeanor that won her over, or perhaps Chandler didn't have the heart to say no. Whatever the reason might have been, Chandler accepted the cupcake with a small smile. Holding it in her hand, she looked it over. It looked nothing like those cupcakes you often see when scrolling down your Facebook feed. The kind of baked miracles that make you wonder how in the world someone were able to make them. "Thank you," she replied, lifting her gaze from the cupcake and back to the girl.
The girl was eating them, so naturally the taste couldn't be bad. She took a bite then. And then another. And then a third. "Huh," she said once finished, licking the icing off from the tips of her fingers. "Not what I expected."
"Mmm," she mused, "You could say that, yeah." It seemed pointless to deny it. The girl had already hit the nail on the head and even Chandler saw no reason to act prideful. "This is my first time here." She narrowed her eyes then. "After the move, I mean."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
She had already finished her own miscolored treat and started on another when it got a comment. This time she did laugh. "Told you so." She couldn't help but say it. Not intentionally unkind, but it was a little jab too golden to pass up.
Looks like she had a hit too. Now Deb was grinning. "Thought as much. You had the whole 'fish out of water' look most of the new kids get when they come here. No offense meant, of course." She added on playfully with a wink tossed in.
Fortunately enough Deb was feeling generous. Plus it really wasn't likely she was going to be let back into the classroom after this little stunt. It hadn't necessarily been taking advantage of her invitation: more like seizing an opportunity. "Considering they probably locked the door behind me," Deb started after finishing off her second round of rainbow colored sweetness, "I'd be more than willing to act as a tour guide if you need one. I even brought free snacks along for the ride." The tray holding the rest of the tasty abominations was gestured to with a slightly dramatic flare. Plus a toothy grin to match. "So what do you say?"
Chandler actually laughed at that. "Yeah, you did," she admitted freely. Hey, she'd give it to the girl; she'd been right, and Chandler wasn't about to take that moment away from her. It didn't even irk her, which was probably more surprising than the taste of the cupcakes.
The laughter bubbled down into a sheepish smile and all Chandler could do was shrug. "None taken," she promised. She looked back at the label she'd studied before. Couldn't they at the very least have kept the same layout? It had taken her long enough to figure that one out and now she had to do it all again?
She wiped her hands clean off of her pants. She took a moment to study the girl then. She was pretty, in an nontraditional kind of way, with blue-grayish eyes and colored hair that, unlike most, actually suited her. An offer was handed out and Chandler didn't need more than a moment to decide. "Yeh, sure," she replied. If it had been Chandler, she would have told the lost soul to suck it and leave them to their faith. Clearly, she didn't deserve this, but she was happy to accept nonetheless.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
She liked this one. Though there was plenty of time for that to change, so far what she'd seen was appealing. Pretty too, which was a bonus. But modest and good humored enough to smile and even laugh away the teases. Not always common with people she met. It made the smile on Deb's face sit easier than usual.
"Now before we begin, your name will suffice for my usual fee." It wouldn't do for her not to know for someone so intriguing thus far. She'd be content to wait until she got it too. The tray of tasty mishaps before her helped extend her patience exponentially.
But eventually she would speak, name or no. "Since we're here, I'll state the obvious to start. This is where the classrooms are. Most of your classes will be in these rooms, but this one," a hand raised up to knock against the wood of the door behind her, "Is by far the best one. If you manage to get in and out with souvenirs that is." A soft grin returned to her face. The evidence- or rather souvenirs -were already in display.
It was then perhaps a good thing that Chandler had never been the shy one. She had mellowed out over the years, but shy has never been a word someone would use to describe her. Not even now. "Chandler," she offered. She would have offered her hand too, but the girl seemed occupied with her cakes. "Just like the guy from that show," she added with a shrug. That was something she'd heard so often, offering it up along with her name felt like second nature. "And yours?"
She followed the movements of the girl, brown eyes closely noting the way her arms moved. Chandler had never been one for cooking. It was one of those things her father had been good at, and her mother completely useless at. She'd inherited her mother's genes on that. "I'd probably burn down their kitchen and never get invited back," she said, mimicking the girl's own smile. But that was fine.
"What do you study?" she asked, then furrowed her brows. She'd assumed the girl was a college student, but these days, teens looking nothing like they had when Chandler had been young. The girl could have been sixteen for all Chandler knew. "If you do study anything, that is," she quickly added.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
That nearly sounded rehearsed. "I'm guessing you get that comment a lot then?" The fact it had been tacked on so naturally was a clue. And Deb knew some of the other students at the school. Some would definitely make the connection and bring it to light. Despite it clearly already being there. "Mine you can learn at the end. Think of it as 'extra incentive' to finish the tour. As if these aren't enough on their own anyways. Speaking of-"
The tray was offered out towards Chandler with the remaining cupcakes on top. Deb displayed a lopsided smile on the other side of it. "Feel free to take as many as you like. Otherwise I'll eat and keep every one- that's a promise." Her kitchen could easily do with more sweets. Plus they were free. Not much better than that.
The tray was retracted when Deb laughed. "Hey, you never know. I keep getting told that and somehow I've managed to get in multiple times." Mainly due to the fact her friends were too trusting. Or used to her antics enough so that they didn't actually care that much. Whichever it was, she'd use it.
Deb's consistent smile defused the quick correction. Although a moment was taken to bite and chew into another cupcake. "Art." She responded after swallowing and cleaning her mouth. "Still not completely sure what I'd want to specialize in but when you can do this-" Her hand was cleared of crumbs and icing before it went through her hair. The wild color already there changing into various tones of blues and purples. The rest of it was given the same treatment to even out before Deb looked back with a grin. "It makes it a little easier. Especially when you can make something that doesn't smudge."
More attention was given to her third cupcake before she leveled a curious look back at Chandler. "What about you?
Again, she laughed. "Alright, fine." She could have argued. She could have demanded the girl's name, but really, what was the point? She enjoyed this simple game of cat and mouse. It was fun. It was relaxing. She didn't want to take that away from either of them. Now, patience had never been a virtue Chandler had been associated with, but she could play nice.
Shaking her head no, Chandler was reminded of that one time she'd eaten so much sugar she'd thrown up. "I'm more of a salt kind of gal." Chips, food - anything with salt in it she loved. Bacon was a favorite. "So help yourself," she added. What she wouldn't do for a bag of chips and some ice tea right now, though. She had to hit the store before retiring for the night.
The girl was oddly positive. It made Chandler realize she had a lot of negativity in her life. It was refreshing, she supposed, if nothing else. Stretching her arms above her head, she pursed her lips. "Yeah, well, you haven't burned down their kitchen yet, have you?" She looked at the girl, offering her a smirk. She didn't think anyone would be let back in again after such a disaster.
Chandler had always been a lover of the arts. She had spent many hours of her life drawing and painting and at sixteen, she'd taken up photography. She'd also been a dancer, when she'd first attended Bellefonte, and well, she'd loved that too. She followed the girl's hands as they moved through her hair, changing the colors of the already boldly colored hair. Chandler's jaw dropped a fraction as she watched, entranced. "Damn," she whispered. "That is pretty cool." She was tempted to touch the girl, just so she could mimic the ability for herself. Oh, the things she could've done with that kind of power...
"Photography," she offered. "Been into it since I was about sixteen, but then... Life happened." She supposed that made her a late bloomer. "So, here I am."
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
She didn't need to tell her twice.
Happily carrying what was now officially her cupcakes, Deb tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Fair enough. Besides, I think I'd be mad at myself more than anything if I managed that. Hard to get free snacks from a burnt out kitchen. Good ones anyways." Couldn't have that now.
The awestruck expression brought out another laugh. She wasn't usually on the receiving end of those. Not here. "Why thank you." She replied with a pleased little grin. "It does make dyeing hair easy. So if you're ever thinking about getting a touch-up or trying something new," another wink was thrown her way, "I'd be more than happy to help. I've honestly considered being a hair stylist more than anything, but figured I should see all my options first."
Deb was finishing off her third- and probably final for now -cupcake when the information got her attention. One part in particular. "Wait, did you manifest at sixteen too?" She had to ask. If that was so, the smile on her face widened in a flash. She very nearly laughed again. What were the odds? This was only getting better and better. "Welcome to the late bloomer squad." There was a friendly bump given with her shoulder to the other girl's. "Argueably the best squad to be in, since we don't have to deal with the initial onset of puberty and freaky powers."
All while they'd been talking, she'd been guiding them along through the halls. No sense standing in one place to chat. Finally Deb stopped right outside another set of doors. However she did not head inside; instead, she indicated towards them with a free hand. "This right here is the library. I'm not even going to try walking in there with these bad boys. Potentially messy foods and librarians do not mix well." From the way she said it, this was experience talking. "But you could peek in if you'd like."
"I'll keep the in mind," she promised. She had never been one to do much about her hair, but at least she had the option. Hopefully something that wouldn't destroy her hair too. There was something else on the brunette's mind though. "Well, mutants are out and about, so I'm fairly certain you could earn quite a lot on your abilities." Especially if it was as she suspected and the girl's kind of 'dye" didn't harm the hair like the kinds you bought at a store.
"Oh, no," she smiled. She understood how that could have been taken the wrong way. "I uh, I manifested at sixteen, but I went to St. Bethany and transferred to America at sixteen." The kind of life Chandler had been talking about happened to be a certain, very pretty, blonde. She wasn't about to say that, of course. She offered the girl something of an awkward smile. "Sorry about that." She felt a little bad about her obvious lack in communication skills, but she couldn't really blame the girl for misunderstanding.
Stopping when the other girl did, she took a moment to look around. She still felt lost, but at least she had a little more knowledge about the layout than what she had had only moments before. She looked at the door then, brows furrowing. "Yeah," she said, dragging the words out. "Not my favorite spot either," she added with a simple shrug. "I think I'm good." She had never been much of a study. Nor a reader. The closest she came to touching anything made of paper was while drawing or painting.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
"Well, I have actually been working at one of the local salons in town." She admitted with a shrug. It wasn't a secret or anything. Just information she hadn't thought important enough to mention until now. "Considering it's a lot less expensive when I can create highlights and touch-up hair without wasting any material. Plus I can actually let people preview different shades without turning their head into a tinfoil mess for hours on end. Or, best of all, damaging their hair." A very, very useful factor for someone like Deb who liked to trade colors nearly every day.
She only looked slightly disappointed that she'd been wrong, but the feeling didn't stick. "No worries." She dismissed with a shrug of her shoulders. Besides, she was more interested in the other place Chandler had mentioned. St. Bethany's. She'd heard about that name maybe once or twice. It made her browns furrow momentarily and her lips press into a pensive line. "Bethany's...Isn't that the school in, oh...England right?" Remembering this sort of minute detail was not exactly one of Deb's strengths. This sort of info anyways.
Chandler's rejection did make the smile return to Deb's face, however. "What? Not the type to stick your nose in a book and lose track of time?" She teased with a lopsided grin. Not that Deb was herself- which she would easily admit without shame. Studying? Only if a class (and her grade by consequence) would really, really call for it.
Since neither girl seemed particularly inclined to stick around the land of books, Deb moved on. "So if you're not the bookworm type, what are you into?" She dared to ask.
"Things are looking brighter already." Chandler offered the other girl a smirk. It wasn't always such a bad thing to have a power that most deemed as "uncool". It might not have been super strength and she might not have been able to shoot lasers with her eyes, but at least it was practical and useful. Especially given how the girl seemed to be enjoying it. "And one day you might be able to start up your own salon," she offered. It seemed like a rather sweet deal.
The disappointment wasn't missed by the brunette, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she offered an apologetic shrug. The conversation turned, though, and Chandler smiled again. "It is, yeah." It was about the same as Bellefonte in terms of the way the school was run, though a tad stricter. And filled with British pricks. "The one and only," she continued. "It's about the same as this school, apart from the layout." She looked around at that. It didn't even look like the new building. Then again, the new building looked nothing like the old.
"Not at all," Chandler admitted easily. She would never be the straight A student and she was fine with that. Her priorities had always laid elsewhere.
While the two walked, Chandler took the moment to look around, trying to familiarize herself as best as she could. This would take more effort than she'd first cared to put into it. "Photography for the main part. Drawing and painting on occasions, though, I rarely seem to find the time anymore." She tossed a glance towards the girl. "And dancing, though, I don't know if that can be called a hobby anymore. It's been a long time." She hadn't danced since she'd left Bellefonte at eighteen. "What about you?" She smiled.
Have I gone mad? I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something: The best people usually are.
There's an idea she'd entertained numerous times before. Her very own salon. All of her own design, with her own hours, and her own crew. The general look of the place had been turned over again and again in her head. Something comfy for sure, considering she'd be spending most of her time there. Even now as Chandler mentioned it, a wistful and distracted look came to her eyes. "One day, hopefully." She said quietly.
She was fast enough to shake out of her little pensive moment. Curiosity knew no bounds, after all. "That so, huh? Well, you'll have to let me know how our lovely new Bellefonte compares after you've been here a while." Deb said with a slightly lopsided smile. She hadn't had much- really, barely any - interaction with students from the other mutant schools before. If St. Bethany's was really that similar, she wanted to hear which seemed better. Call it a hint of competitive pride.
As they walked Deb noticed her newfound acquaintance trying to get her bearings. As subtly as she could, she kept their pace at a slower one. After all, this was supposed to be a tour for her. Not just an excuse to satisfy the bright haired girl's insatiable interest.
When Chandler listed her hobbies, Deb couldn't help but let a small huff of amusement escape it. It was mocking- more entertained when she'd mentioned painting. "Looks like we share painting at least. Though when I do it, it's more of an 'advanced fingerpainting' sort of thing." She grinned. Then Deb looked ahead to consider the rest. "Otherwise, for me? Let's see...Going on road trips would probably be my second biggest, if you could call that a hobby. My sister and I always go on one during the summer. There's something great about traveling without really worrying about a destination. Lets you see some fantastic stuff you usually ignore." A wide and warm smile had taken over her face. Even after her manifestation, Alex and her had still managed to plan drives. There was something inexplicably wonderful about just the two of them and the open road.
"By extension of that, I guess, I do like hiking and camping. Ever tried it before? Can be great fun if you've got good company and aren't afraid of getting a little dirty. And if you like photography you can get some awesome pictures." She said, glancing back at Chandler with a lopsided but wide smile. "I'd also list making bad decisions or getting into trouble, but I don't think those count."
