Multi-Fandom One Shots

We All Make Choices (Rita Santos)

When you were a child, your parents adopted a child you all found on the beach. There was lots of beach in Australia, so where did a baby come from? But you all got older, never told your younger brother the truth about his origins (not that you had the truth), and your parents died. From that day, you took over custody for Zac and you were a grown up. 

It was hard to believe it had only been seven years since that fateful night. It was no one's fault. An accident. You dropped out of school and got a job, got more mature, and he was living his best life. You couldn't be more proud he got the adolescence he deserved. 

"I don't need a ride," Zac insisted. 

You shrugged, gathering your things. "Then walk. However, today is my first at your school. Suit yourself without the company, but it'll be faster." Pulling the heavy satchel over your shoulder, you walked out to the car. 

Not ten seconds later, Zac was running out behind you, locking the door. He threw himself into the passenger side. "It really would be faster. Thanks, sis." 

You smiled and winked at the boy. He explained the project held delicately in his hands on the way and you didn't understand that marine biology stuff, but you were happy he enjoyed it. You dropped him off at the student's drop off so he wasn't embarrassed, getting out of a grown woman's car who was also going inside. He was a teenage boy. The simplest things embarrassed him. You parked and got out yourself, checking your supplies one last time. Not that a different result would mean more than stress. You'd never make it back to the house for what you would have forgotten. However, your hands hovered over every instrument at your disposal. You worked with technology, something to be kept away from the marine. So mostly, you possessed the tools to physically open the computer or electronically hack in through a backdoor. Then, there was your monitor, a tablet which allowed you control over anything with a computer chip with the right programming. You zipped the bag shut again and pocketed your wallet and phone, attaching your keys to your bag. You took a deep breath. 

It was odd, walking into the school you'd dropped out of. There was an odd reminiscence, the similarities and little changes made in seven years. But you remembered the way to the principal's office. Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you walked down the hall and turned. The wooden door stood in the middle of the hall just as before. You felt like a nervous teenager again. 

Rita Santos had been principal of Suncoast High for the past fifteen years. You had had a semi-complicated relationship with her. You were brilliant and never had a problem with your grades, a trait Zac also had, but sometimes you got into fights. Mostly, they were to protect another student particularly from bullies. You were often outnumbered, resulting in a trip to the nurse and a visit from the principal. She was a beautiful woman, with red hair and green eyes that glimmered like seaweed under the sea level. She was known for being a hard-ass and stern. Her happiest days were indicators that school was about to get very challenging. But she was fair and she cared for her students. She seemed distant and cold, but you never let that impression stick, always defending her. Of course, you hadn't seen her since the day you told her you had to drop out to take care of your little brother. You had cried to her on the loss and the failure to execute your dreams, and the kind woman gave you a tissue, holding you tight during your goodbye. She seemed to understand hard decisions and she fully supported you. 

Raising your fist, you set a single knuckle against the solid wood three times. The door swung open and there she was, not changed a day, but dressed just as immaculately. Her red locks were halfway braided behind her in an oddly whimsical do, but the front hairs framed her face and the expression which seemed to mirror yours. Her green eyes were glued to your face, but they lacked the hardness you recalled as a student. If anything, they seemed a bit out of it, almost dreamy as she greeted you. "Ms. Blakely. It's so nice to see you again," the principal said, holding out her hand. Her long sleeve hung loose around her wrist and the deep red matched her hair. She wore a black pencil skirt that could make you choke and little accessories to keep your gaze entertained and on her.