California's All Right

[Marguerite Lamoureux]

I never wanted to move. Not that Maman and Papa would listen to me, they never listen to me. I LIKED Vermont. I had friends there! But nooo, we had to move west, to California. Los Angeles at that! Papa's job is to blame, apparently. But I didn't want to move. Why couldn't me and Maman have stayed? It's not like they get along very well... maybe it was to get away from her boyfriend that Papa doesn't know about. Putain de merde! This is all her fault. And on top of that, a PUBLIC school? Honestly?? I've been sent to the finest Catholic private schools since the beginning but because it's High School, I need to get out and be social and deal with the public school system? C’est des conneries! ...this sun is intolerable.

Marguerite stood against one of the trees in the front courtyard of Steve Rogers High School, glaring first at the building itself, then at the sun above. She had been told it didn't matter what season it was, the damn thing always shone. And with that thought she slumped against the tree once more, clinging to its shade, letting the brand new set of ancient outdated text books she'd been given the day prior that resided in her purple backpack dig into her spine slightly.

She watched the others in their groups disdainfully, determined to spite them all, waiting for that first bell that would mark them all having to go to class so she could just bury herself in schoolwork. Stupid move. Stupid change in schools. Her cellphone in hand chimed and she quickly flipped it open to read the message inside: How's California?

It was from Jacklyn, her friend from home whom she now only got to speak with over the internet and the occasional text message when they were both brave enough to use their phones at school. Marguerite sighed and began pressing the small keyboard buttons in reply, the song she had listened to that morning cheekily being echoed: California's all right. She paused and smirked before continuing. But as for me I fucking hate it here.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Less than three weeks ago, she'd been packing her personal things and preparing for the year at Молодые академии - the elite boarding school she'd attending since the third grade, in the heart of her native St. Petersburg.

Instead of the glorious city she loved, she was confronted with traffic, congestion, and the loudest, rudest horde of her fellow teenagers that she'd ever met.

It was the stupidest idea, she mused, that her father had ever had. Pulling her out of her comfort zone, away from her friends and her life, and dumping her in Los Angeles. At a public school, no less. It was an insult Svetlana vowed she'd never forgive him for.

Tall and slender, she slipped out of the car with a soft 'Спасибо' to Sergei, her driver. At least he wasn't required to trail after her everywhere she went, and she only had to force the pleasantries to come when she needed a ride somewhere. If there was a boon to attending a public school in America, it was that she could, for once, dress as she pleased and set aside her uniform.

A short, dark denim skirt and fitted, pale green t-shirt were the order of her first day, finished by a pair of flat, strappy sandals and jeweled sunglasses, tucked atop her head, amidst her loose blonde locks. Lana's laptop bag was slung over her shoulder as she walked, consulting the metallic green Blackberry in her hand for her schedule.

She sighed softly as she noted the peculiar looks she was receiving already, from the tiny cliques that swarmed across the front lawn and steps. Charming...animosity towards the unknown...this should be an endless source of delight.

At least the sun shone with welcome ferocity, Lana noted, feeling better for every moment she remained in its rays. Another young woman, leaning against a tree and keying somewhat into her phone, caught her eyes, and drew Lana over. Perhaps she would know the way.

"Izvinite...excuse me...do you happen to know the way to the mathematics classrooms?" she asked softly, her Russian accent gentle on the ears as opposed to the harshness of one new to English.

[Marguerite Lamoureux]

"hmm?" Marguerite's eyes looked up from her phone, marginally surprised at the fact it appeared the older girl had actually been talking to her and not someone else close by.

Her head lifted as she looked at the school building, stopping to watch a few more students file in. "Uh, sorry, no clue. Well, I mean I know where it is, but not really how to describe it."

Despite the instinct to tell the girl to go fuck off and find the place herself, the fact that Marguerite did have Pre-Calculus first thing in the morning, which would probably put her either near or in the exact same classroom as the girl as asking about.

A quick glance was given to the clock on her phone, there was another ten minutes before the bell rang. She hated the fact her mother had stressed politeness on her sometimes. "You want me to show you were it is?"

[Svetlana Ustinov]

It occurred to her in that moment, that she should have brought along the glossy map that had arrived with her school enrollment information. That, however, would have made far too much sense. Instead, Lana was grateful she'd forgotten only so minor an object.

The girl's reaction was one she wasn't expecting, a bit stunned by the indifference she displayed. There was so much to learn about people in Los Angeles, she mused, and wondered for several moments just how different they'd all turn out to be from those she knew back home.

Home.

Dear god in heaven, she missed St. Petersburg. Walking by the river, having lunch at her favorite cafe, shopping at the boutiques that were just staring to bring the new season's clothing in. She even missed her little brother, Piotr, who she swore was the world's most annoying little creature. But he was familiar, and she'd have welcomed even him right at that moment. Fingers rose to touch the delicate silver cross strung around her neck as the girl paused, then spoke again, breaking her reverie.

"Spasibo...thank you...that would be very welcome. I hope its not too much of a bother? I would hate to be late simply because I got lost." Svetlana said with a soft smile, flicking her Blackberry off and tucking it into her bag.

[Marguerite Lamoureux]

Apparently no matter how much you prayed to the good Lord he sometimes would answer with a definitive no. Which apparently was the answer to her silent plea this time that the girl would politely refuse her offer and be on her way. But no, girl with the silly accent was here to stay.

Margurite forced herself to ignore the mental claims at her being a hypocrite for the accent thing, sighed heavily, and shoved her phone into the back pocket of her pants. "You won't be late, first bell hasn't even gone off yet."

After pulling herself away from the tree and readjusting her backpack so a particularly worn corner edge of one of the books would stop jabbing her in the back, she nodded up to the school building. "C'mon 'comrad', let's get you to your classroom."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Wonderful. Bells. Isn't that delightful."

Svetlana muttered, more under her breath, not expecting a reply to her sarcasm. Why was it that the only word of her native tongue that most Americans thought of first was comrad? A beautiful, lyrical language...and it was always comrad.

The slender teen sighed softly and smiled, bright eyes sliding forward over the massive building as the girl led the way. Such a plain facade, it looked nothing like any of the beautiful buildings in St. Petersburg. Svetlana chided herself for the thought, knowing that if she didn't make at least a small effort, she'd make herself ill.

Glancing at her temporary companion, she spoke as they ascended the stairs. "Unfortunately, I am beginning my day with Calculus...what do you have?"

[Marguerite Lamoureux]

She wanted to stop walking, just enough to turn to look at the girl with a profound you're fucking kidding me, right? But a somewhat scrutinizing look was all that needed to pass before her eyes rolled, albeit more subtle than she normally may have done, and a soft sigh left her.

"Well today must be our lucky day. Same here. Saves a trip, I guess..."

Her mother would have slapped her for talking to another person in such a manner, especially someone in need of help. Marguerite had been raised, for the most part, as a kind and generous person. But all of that had changed almost as quickly as her turning into a teenager. Though Marguerite figured it probably was more on account of having to leave all her friends back in Vermont rather than any actual age change.

As the two girls moved through the hallways, Marguerite not-so-gently pushing past other students on the way to the classroom, the dark haired girl cast a glance at her (hopefully temporary) companion.

"Yeah so... you obviously aren't from around here. You an exchange student or something?"

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Being an exchange student would imply that I would get to go home for holidays and at the end of the year. I do not."

Svetlana replied with a hint of bitterness, her calm expression souring for several moments. It was a bit of a struggle to regain her composure, but she did so with some effort. She plucked her Blackberry from her bag and flicked the device on, flipping through to ensure she'd not missed a call. Or a text message.

Nothing.

With a small sound of disappointment, she turned it off and tucked it away again before a passing teacher could issue a warning. One more added to the list of things that would not have happened at her old school. Students had long since learned to regulate themselves in an effor to keep their favorite electronics at their fingertips.

"But there is nothing I can do about it, save for refusing to speak to my parents when and if they call." Lana said after some few silent moments. Blinking as she took in the hallways, she tried to make a mental map of where they were going as her companion pushed her way through the crowds of students.

"Where are my manners? I did not introduce myself. My name is Svetlana. But please feel free to call me Lana."