Guns and Cigarettes [Levi/Rivaille x OC]

Chapter 4: School for Dummies

I probably know more about the quickest ways of killing people than making friends, or even looking normal in this case. Even with Nile standing right behind me fully loaded with bronze bullets and everything behind that dark blazer of his, this horrendous feeling of having thirty pair of attentive watchful eyes staring back at me never failed to paralyse my limbs.

Anxiety, they called it.

Did the bitch called 'puberty' have something to do with this?

"Well, don't just stand there like a stupid mutt," Nile muttered irritably in a low tone, snapping my nerves back in place, "Go in."

My eyes scanned down my dark attire along with theirs, my mouth pulled down into an upside-down U. My long dip dyed locks I was actually happy with in the beginning with had been forcefully trimmed off, leaving behind the marooned dark strands hanging over my shoulders unnaturally. Apparently my casual hoodies weren't good enough either and papa confiscated them all, throwing back this 18th century vampire outfit for me.

By far, I think I was the only kid in high school history that has ever dressed like Count Dracula's daughter and wasn't on a Cosplay schedule.

I know Robert told me to act like 'normal' kids and to 'have fun' as long as there were no cops tailing behind me for drink driving and cannabis smoking, but seriously, this outfit papa gave me wasn't really initiating the plan.

"Hazel," The teacher pulled on a bitter smile that really didn't mask anything at all, "Come in, come in. We've missed you."

As a loyal sarcasm handler, I sensed great altitudes of irony in her tone. I would be surprised if people still remember my name, without the reference to Nutella and the hazelnuts. Hazelnut, get it? No? Alright then.

My tall leather boots drew a lot of unwanted attention out of the girls who thought it'd be nice to wear fucking cocktail heels to school, some of them scoffing in mockery.

Whoa, what is she? A zombie from The Walking Dead?

She looks like she's attending a funeral.

Oh, I'll be attending your funeral alright, right after I shove my Balisong blade down your throat. Or your own cocktail heel. I really don't really mind.

I silently muttered to myself, a smirk serving as a confident booster on my face, which immediately drained out after Nile gave me a wake-up tap on my shoulder.

I don't think you can carry guns around schools, can you? What a shame. Maybe my judgements were confirmed too rashly, but I already knew pretty damn well who'll chew my ammos the first chance they got.

"Talk to people, Hazel." His dark eyes glanced at mine for a second, his pale flat lips hardly moving to the words that rung silently enough to be considered inaudible to the rest of the class, "Be friendly. And if you need something, call me."

His tall slender suit-wearing figure slowly drifted off soundlessly, leaving me with a crowd of strange peers my own age who looked noticeably older. Whispering voices could constantly be heard behind the curtain of dark hair that drooped over my surprisingly shy face. The girl who got suspended but ended up wagging along anyway. I imagined myself to be a lot cockier and confident with the first few returning steps, but I never imagined myself to be this pathetically shy.

Holy shit, so this was the famous overrated high school I've always heard of.

"There was a transfer student who took your spot the start of the year, so I guess you'll be sitting at the back corner where the spare seat is, next to that window over there."