~The Tree at the Edge of the Schoolyard~ Ace Merrill x OC

-1954, age 13-

Betty and John scurried across the street, ignoring the curses thrown at them by an angry truck driver who almost hit them. Quickly escaping the main road, the pair ducked into a small wooded area, which led them to the edge of the middle school yard.

As soon as school had let out the friends had run off, escaping the crowded halls.

John sat down immediately, dropping his back and leaning against the tree, facing away from his old school. Meanwhile Betty leaned around the side of the tree, watching all the kids leaving the school for the day.

"Do you think we missed out?" She asked, looking away from the plethora of children to catch John's eye.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Betty sighed before sitting down and leaning her head on her friend's shoulder. "We never went on the playground or played tag. Maybe we should've."

John scoffed. "They wouldn't let us on that playground."

"They wouldn't have let me, but you would've been fine until you started hanging out with me." Betty fiddled with the zipper on her bag.

John scoffed louder this time. "I didn't want to play tag with those jag-offs. You were more fun to be around, anyways. You didn't care about my last name."

Betty smiled. "You didn't care about mine." She smiled up at him before opening her backpack, pulling out a few slightly crumpled pieces of paper. Her homework.

"What are you doing that for?" He asked, looking over at her.

"To pass my classes, dumbass. I may not be in the college courses but I still want to do well... even if they say I'm a cheat." The girl smiled briefly before picking up her pencil and scribbling away on a math worksheet with her tongue out.

John sighed and smiled before tugging a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and picking one out. He went to put them away before pausing and holding it out to Betty. She looked up, shooting him a quick smile and picking out one. The two sat in a comfortable silence as John pulled out a lighter (which he had stolen from his dad) and lit the two smokes before closing it and putting it away. He faintly heard a small "thanks" before the pair was engulfed in silence again.

John watched the back of Betty's head, the long, greasy black curls that draped over her shoulder. Small fly-away hairs caught the sunlight at odd angles, giving the black mess a fussy sheen. He could see part of her face, big black doe eyes trained on the tip of her pencil as it skittered across the page. The cigarette was clenched between her slightly parted lips, her teeth holding onto it more. He had noticed she had a habit of chewing on the end of her smokes, which always left the butts with teeth marks on the end. Just scanning the dirt around the tree he could find plenty of finished cigarettes of that description.

It seemed impossible that hot headed John Merril Jr. could make any friends. Then again nobody expected the degenerate negro girl to find any friends either. Perhaps that was why they were so perfect for one another.