Chapter Text
“There are many, many theories out there.”
History class was always a bore. What made it worse was that it was the first thing in their schedule. The three of them sat in the back at the same table, by themselves. The Cuban had his head rested on his arms, his eyes closed and drool dripping onto the table of a desk from his slightly opened mouth. The Samoan stared at the teacher with droopy eyes, resting his cheek in his hand and not actually paying any attention. Then there was the short geek sitting in between them, nearly half their height which caused for an easy mistaking of a middle schooler in the wrong building, who was tapping a pencil on the desk while staring the teacher down through round glasses covering brown eyes.
The teacher could clearly see them, his broad shoulders slumping a bit since he knew at least half of the first period class was asleep, but he kept a smile on his face. He ran a hand through his bleached white bangs, then scratching the buzz-cut black hair behind his ear and continuing with his lecture.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” the teacher politely said, meeting the geek’s eyes. His face dropped, regret finally painting his face as the geek’s eyes sparkled. He cleared his throat and continued anyway. “The expedition was unsuccessful due to the pilot’s inability to steer clear of a black hole.”
The geek’s little, pale arm shot into the air.
The teacher sighed. “What is it, Pidge?”
“Actually, the expedition failed because the spaceship got torn apart by the black hole’s force since they miscalculated the exact perimeters of the hole.”
The entire class groaned as the geek stood up, despite the Samoan lightly tugging on the green sleeve at the top of the pale arm with a stern look. The geek took in a deep breath before continuing.
The entire period was wasted, Pidge going on about the Hanson Holt Expedition of ‘97.
“I’m surprised you still go on about these expeditions so easily,” the Cuban yawned insensitively as the three made their way down the hallway.
The Cuban received a roll of the eyes. “The ‘97 expedition had no one in the ship, Lance. The teacher should know these things if he’s supposed to be teaching us.”
The Cuban rolled his eyes too. “You just like being right.”
“Being right isn't a bad thing. You should do it more,” Pidge snapped back.
“It’s too early for this,” the Samoan groaned, running his hand over his sleep-deprived expression.
“Hunk! I just got insulted and all you do is groan? I’m thoroughly hurt.” Lance made everything dramatic; that was nothing new.
“Lance, just leave Pidge alone,” the Samoan sighed, shifting narrowed eyes towards him.
“What?! How is this on me?!” Lance exclaimed, offended.
Hunk exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as he looked forward again. “Why are Friday’s so annoying?” he muttered.
“Because the weekend’s only a few hours away,” Pidge pointed out.
“Thanks for that, Little Pigeon,” Lance sarcastically stated.
Pidge shot narrowed eyes in his direction. “Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you instead? Should I go back to using Lesbean?” Lance shot back.
A binder flew past him, all three pairs of eyes following it as it soared past the side of Lance’s ear and directly towards their principal as he passed by.
Pidge had been to the principal’s office way too many times. Being dragged by the arm, holding the thrown binder under the other, the principal brought Pidge into the office next to the principal’s office -- the office labled Assistant Principal Honerva Haggar .
“Honerva, you deal with her,” the principal groaned, releasing his large hand from Pidge’s tiny arm.
The woman sitting at the desk in the office sighed in her direction, crossing her arms on the desk with narrowed eyes. “Katie, what did you do this time?”
Pidge slumped down into the chair in front of the woman’s desk, guiltily mumbling, “Threw a binder and hit Dr. Zarkon.” Pidge didn't bother reminding Mrs. Haggar for the millionth time that she went by Pidge since she knew she was already in a lot of trouble.
The assistant principal sighed. “And what are you going to do about it?”
“Write another apology letter,” Pidge answered in a groan, slouching in her chair.
Mrs. Haggar shook her head with narrowed eyes. It was always awful when Mrs. Haggar narrowed her eyes since then the bright purple eyeshadow she decided to wear with everything was prominent, unlike when she was normally staring at people. A bronze would fit her dark skin tone and dark brown eyes much better. Her hair was completely white on top of everything.
Mrs. Haggar opened her mouth to tell her whatever she was going to, but the phone saved Pidge. Pidge let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as Mrs. Haggar picked up the phone.
“I’m with a student right now.” Mrs. Haggar eyed Pidge with an icy stare.
There was a pause while the voice on the other end spoke. Mrs. Haggar spun in her chair slowly, turning her back to Pidge.
"Yes, it’s Katie,” Mrs. Haggar sighed at the window.
There was another pause.
Mrs. Haggar let out a sigh by itself. “I suppose that would work better than an apology letter. I’ll email her teachers.”
Tension in Pidge’s heart built as she listened. Apparently, that was the last of Mrs. Haggar’s responses. She spun her chair back around, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a groan as she hung up. She leaned back in her chair as she glared at Pidge.
“It’s been decided that instead of writing an apology letter, this time, you’re going to show a new student around, then tutor her. You have to be on your best behavior with this student; she’s related to the principal.”
In that moment, Pidge was thankful for whoever had saved her ass and got her out of classes for the day.
Mrs. Haggar stood from her chair and directed Pidge out of her office. Their visits were usually much longer, so Pidge also thanked whoever saved her for that, too. Pidge followed Mrs. Haggar’s lead as they headed to the lobby, where the principal was at the moment, standing with two other men and another person mostly hidden from Pidge’s view due to the two strangers. They were all talking and laughing, their voices carrying easily in the high-ceilinged entrance hallway. That allowed the distinct British accents of the two men to stick out.
“I’m quite sure she’ll be just fine with some tutoring!” one of the men ensured with a bright smile, which contrasted the orange mustache above it. His curly, orange hair was kept out of his face using a black hairclip smack dab in the middle of the top of his head. He simply wore a white button-up shirt and beige khakis.
The other man laughed. He looked very similar to the principal, both of them with dark skin, bright blue eyes, and silver hair. He was wearing a blue blazer with black formal pants of some sort.
In other words, they seemed like people Pidge was going to have trouble with.
The principal glanced over, spotting Pidge and Mrs. Haggar. He sighed. “Well, here she is.”
Mrs. Haggar stopped Pidge in front of the men, putting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder when she was close enough to see the detail on everyone’s faces -- and the extra person that had been hidden. “Katie, this is Allura. Allura, this is Katie. She will be your guide and tutor as you make yourself at home here.”
Pidge couldn’t believe her eyes. The hidden person was just as tall as the men she was standing in between, making her at least six feet tall. She herself had dark skin and bright blue eyes, though the roots of her hair were black while the rest had clearly been dyed silver. What stuck out more than her silver waves was the dress she was wearing; it was pink and had two cat faces at the chest, which of course drew Pidge’s attention to the curves that she had.
The girl extended her hand with a bright smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you! Thank you for helping me on such short notice.” She had the accent, too.
Despite the odd fashion and hair choices of the British girl standing in front of her, all Pidge could think about was one thing.
“I’m gay.”
