Woken by the incessant beeping...
The dark-haired female glanced up again. The pink-haired newcomer was weaving her way in and out of the round wooden tables, heading in the direction of an almost-full table that was currently seating nine people. Another senior female pushed the newcomer out of the way and took the free space, thus filling the table.
A silent and lonesome onlooker looked down at her plateful of greens and forced herself to eat a forkful of food. The new arrival looked slightly taken-aback but more irritated. The urge to wave was almost too great to suppress but she just about managed it and instead settled for coughing in a subtle manner and looking back down at her salad.
It seemed to have worked. The shock of being so rudely pushed out of the way seemed to have disintegrated and the pink-bobbed female was looking over at the brunette with a look of mild curiosity and relief. She took only a few steps forward before she had reached the wooden round table at which Delilah Miller was seated.
"May I sit here?" The pink-haired female asked in a way that suggested that she would sit there regardless of what Delilah's answer was.
Delilah simply nodded whilst making a mental note of how incredibly unAmerican the pink-haired newcomer sounded. She assumed, from the sound of the girl's accent, that this newcomer was indeed from England. Although she had been waiting for this moment since the newcomer had arrived in the cafeteria five minutes ago, Delilah hesitated to act, as always, but a few moments later found herself acting regardless of her lack of confidence and charisma.
"My name's Miller," she reached out a hand for the girl with the pink bob to shake. "Delilah Miller."
Brown-haired Delilah Miller looked up to spot a smile creep onto the lips of the pink-haired newcomer. She glanced at Delilah's outstretched and then back at Delilah, paused, and then shook Delilah's hand.
"Well hello there," the girl grinned happily. "Delilah Miller, my name is Marlo Jenkins."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Delilah, attempting to cover up her own Texan accent and imitate Marlo's Britishness.
"Likewise," Marlo replied, smiling still.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. - Albert Camus
As she spooned strawberry-flavoured yoghurt into her mouth, pink-haired Marlo inspected the female sitting opposite her. She was, to be quite honest, one of the most diverse human beings that she had come across. Her nails were painted a glossy black, tipped with bright orange and her lips were painted a deep red and her eyelids looked as though they'd been sprinkled with stardust. Her fingers were long and elegant and she seemed quite graceful. She was clad in a ruffled white dress that reached her knees, knee-length rainbow socks and she sported big black boots up to mid-calf with silver buckles. Her red-brown hair was plaited neatly in two plaits that hung on either shoulder, somewhat lifeless compared to the rest of her appearance.
She seemed to be aware of Marlo's curious stare for she looked up for a brief moment and smiled kindly before returning back to her plateful of salad. The silence was awkward and Marlo longed to break it. She searched the room for some topic of conversation, finding none. But it seemed that today, luck was on her side. A topic of conversation found her.
"Ah, Lo," a familiar voice sounded from behind Marlo. "And who is this fine young lady that you are sat with?"
"Joe, Patrick, this is Delilah," Marlo explained, motioning to the brunette also seated at the round wooden table.
Delilah blushed considerably as she looked up to see whoever had called her a 'fine young lady'. She nodded at Joe and Patrick as they took their seats. Joe immediately recognised her as the new girl from his Geography class though he simply smiled and winked at her.
The two males were rather different in many ways. Where Joe was quite tall, Patrick was rather short, maybe an inch or two shorter than Delilah herself. Joe had dark and curly hair whereas Patrick's was straight and sandy blonde and covered by an indigo trucker hat.
"You're new at NTHS, right?" asked Patrick after he'd swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti.
"Yeah," Delilah didn't feel like giving a full-length answer.
"Oh. My. Gosh." The other three turned to look at Joe who was sat with his mouth hanging open, the corners of it curved. Marlo, who'd seen that look before, attempted to shut him up but it was far too late. " They let Texans into this school? What happened to purity! What is the world coming to?"
"Joe!" Marlo exclaimed, feeling ready to hit him upside the head.
"Oh well," Joe shrugged, paused and then grinned evilly. "You should date Patrick, he has sideburns the size of your home state."
And although Joe was laughing, Patrick was turning a bright shade of magenta; Marlo was holding her head in her hands and muttering apologies for Joe's bad manners whilst Delilah was just rather confused.
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. - E E Cummings
Overwhelmed by the stench of smoke and alcohol, she covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her hooded jumper as she entered her new home. At least half an inch of water lined the smooth, polished, wooden floor. Luke warm liquid seeped into her trainers through the whole in the sole and she twitched uncomfortably.
She came to a door, one that was slightly ajar. And at first, she thought to knock but decided against it, figuring that she wouldn't get a response. So she pushed against the door and it swung open, revealing a twenty-seven year old man bent over a smoking stove (one that had probably set off the sprinklers, explaining the wet floor), his hands covered by oven mittens as he struggled to stir the contents of a pot.
"Hey Dee," her uncle replied, not looking up from his bent double position. "How was school?"
"Stop trying to act mature," Delilah smirked, "It freaks me out."
"Are you saying I can't be mature?" Zack looked up now, his eyes full of mock-hurt.
Delilah rolled her eyes and instead of giving a straight answer she asked, "What are you doing anyway?"
"Yep," he seemed rather proud. "Rice and chicken."
"I bet it'll taste bad," she smirked again.
"Shut up! You can't cook either!"
Delilah shrugged and turned to leave but stopped. She felt like she ought to notify him of one fact or it'd make her a bad person if she didn't and bad karma wasn't something she needed right now.
"The chicken's burning."
Author's Note: This chapter's title came from "Sing My Best" by Plain White T's... God, I love those guys. Hope you enjoyed reading!