Chapter Text
The September wind was cool, and the few leaves left on their branches rustled lightly.
Reagan always thought this time of the year was beautiful, she just wished she could enjoy the moment too.
September meant the beginning of a new school year, which was hell on earth for people like her. It was time to start new classes, new work, and new ways to rise above her classmates.
Reagan was just a year younger than most of her graduating class. When she was younger, her father placed her just a grade higher so she could graduate ahead.
It was hard to fit in, she had no friends and no positive relationships. The only people she ever spent time with were her parents, which wasn't much. Her mother was hardly home, always running off with other men, and her father was usually at work or occupied with something. On the rare occasion, they were all together, it usually ended in a fight.
Reagan reached for her blaring alarm clock, pounding it multiple times to shut it up. She groaned as she threw her blanket off of herself, here we go again.
She opens the curtain, letting some light into the room. Immediate regret, it's way too bright for 7 am. After being blinded, Reagan gives up and uses the lights in her room.
The first day was always annoying, her dad would be all excited for the new year, tell her he was proud, and not care the rest of the week.
At least this was her first last day, of high school that is. She was ready to be done, move on and get a degree and work for Cognito.
Reagan shook her head, trying not to think too far ahead of herself. She reached for her drawer, pulling out clothes for that day.
Reagan didn't care too much about what she wore, as long as she was comfortable. She wore a baggy pair of green cargo pants and a black shirt that just met the bottom of her stomach.
She didn't worry about her hair, she just fixed the ponytail she slept in the night before. Her bangs hung out on the side of her face, just how she liked it.
She stopped for a moment to look at herself in the full-body mirror. Yep, just a normal, sort of unapproachable-looking young girl. She picked her bag up off the floor, swinging it around one shoulder.
It was light, but wouldn't stay that way for long. Eventually, it would be filled with textbooks, and notebooks filled with overly detailed work.
She checked to make sure it had everything she needed for the day. Pencils, empty notebooks, and a couple of highlighters. She should be good for now.
Reagan walks down the small hallway, usually, she would go to her parent's room to shove Rand out of bed, but it was likely he was awake this morning. She hated how he treated every first day like a big accomplishment, and she quite dreaded how he would act now that it was her last year.
Reagan wanders into the kitchen, seeing a granola bar and glass of water sitting on the table. Her mother sat across from it, writing something in a small pocketbook.
Reagan looked around, trying to see where her father was. Well, this was unlike him to not be awake on a first day.
She goes to step forward, and all of a sudden feels weight on her shoulders. She jumps, making a strange and audible noise.
Sure enough, the weight was the presence of Rand's hands.
"Jesus, Dad."
"I made you breakfast for your big day."
"A granola bar... thanks."
"It's your last year, you excited?"
"To get it over with. I think you care more than me."
Reagan drinks a bit of the water and decides on just taking the granola bar with her.
"I'm ready to leave now."
"Class of 08! Here we go! Let me snag a beer for the ride."
The way there is a short one, but that didn't stop Rand from talking his daughter's ear off. She didn't add anything to the conversation, or even hardly listen to him. He seemed to just be complaining about work.
"Can't wait for the day I can retire and have you take over."
Reagan rolls her eyes. Of course, she looks forward to becoming CEO of Cognito, she has nothing else to do. Her life was planned ahead of her before she was even conscious of herself. She didn't even bother thinking of what she wanted to do herself, there was no point.
Reagan's head restlessly leans against the glass of the window, bored and unamused with the idea of growing up.
Eventually, she was at her destination, saying goodbye to her dad who was off as soon as she was out of the vehicle. She sighs, rubbing her temple and walking through the parking lot.
Someone is playing music from their car, very, very loudly. The noise gets closer, and Reagan turns around to see a reckless driver heading straight for her. She quickly jumps out of the way, her heart racing.
She sees the car slam its brakes, and she gets a look at the driver.
Brett Hand, son of former state senator Hand. His family was loaded, as anyone would be active in the political scene. Reagan's father had money, but it wasn't like they could openly use the wealth without raising questions.
Brett and his siblings however, had a very luxurious life. She would be jealous of it, if she were anyone else, but Reagan wasn't one to envy other people.
His older brothers and sister were known on campus, especially Jagg Hand. They were incredibly smart, well behaved and talented children. Of course they were, they had to be.
Jagg had broken many sports records for the school too, giving the teams quite the name.
The others all had admirable things that were talked about here and there, but Reagan couldn't recall all of them, she doesn't spend too much time talking to other students. Most of her information comes from overhearing conversations.
Brett though, she knew a bit about. Unlike his siblings, he was sort of infamous. He was known for not being the brightest, being quite clumsy, and all around disappointing in comparison to the rest of his family.
Reagan thought he was honestly annoying, he had a happy-go-lucky attitude, and his mind was never in the right place. That's obvious, he almost ran over a girl on his first day back.
Reagan flips her classmate off and continues walking through the parking lot. She hears a quick "sorry!" come from behind her.
Reagan's eyes roll, but she soon forgets about it as she finds her way to her locker. The hallways are havoc, freshman try to find their classes, and even ask older students. Reagan decides to make her way to her first class as soon as possible before she has to have an interaction with one of them.
Reagan pulls her folded-up schedule out of her pocket. God is it sad, hardly any fun classes at all. Reagan had taken almost every advanced placement available to her, all the way done with all her basic credits.
Rand usually "helped" her with scheduling. And by helping, he would tell her what to take and if she disagreed he usually just guilted her into going with his decision.
Her first class of the day was AP United States History, a class she waited take until this year. She took all of the Math and Science courses already and was kind of left with whatever she hadn't taken, this being one of them.
She didn't care too much for history, at least not in school. She knew most of it was bullshit, and hearing other students talk about it when she knew the real truth was nothing but an annoyance. If she wanted to learn some history, she'd go to work with her father for a day. That's quite the lesson.
It is however important to know what her peers believe, so she can function in a normal conversation about it.
She makes her way upstairs, just a minute before the bell. Other students are already in the room, actually, everyone is but her. There's one empty seat. Well, sort of empty. It's currently being occupied by a pair of feet.
Brett Hand's feet, specifically.
Reagan groans to herself, looking around the room to see if she missed any spot. Nope, this was the only place.
Reagan makes her way to the desk, looking at Brett who is lost in thought. He's twirling a pencil around, whistling a familiar tune.
Dancing Queen, she recognizes.
Now that she realizes it, he seems to be stuck in an era. His clothes, his music taste, and even his hair cut are all way out of style. Must be because the rest of his family are all a bit older than him.
Brett catches the girl staring at him, stopping his whistling and raising a brow in her direction.
"Uh. Your feet are in the way."
He quickly moves them, rubbing the back of his neck in an almost embarrassed way.
"Sorry about that. Hey, I'm Brett by the way! I think we're in the same class! You're the really smart girl, right? You look really tired. Stressed out? I'm a senior now and I couldn't sleep at all last night I-"
Brett's long ramble is soon cut off by the bell ringing. Thank God, Reagan didn't want to listen to him talk all hour.
The teacher soon walks in. Reagan doesn't recognize her, unlike most of the teachers. She's had many for multiple years, but she wasn't too into history which is probably why she doesn't know her.
Reagan feels feet touch the bottom of her chair, kicking slightly. It wasn't a big deal, she knew this too, but it was irritating. She tries to ignore it but suddenly it's all she can focus on. The teacher is talking, but Reagan isn't listening to a word she's saying.
Suddenly she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns around, and Brett is smiling at her.
"Looks like we're partners?"
"Huh?"
Brett looks at her with a confused but soft expression.
"Heh, I thought I was the one that got easily distracted."
Reagan's eyebrows furrow in frustration, couldn't get a break from this guy today.
"Oh speaking of which. Sorry for like, almost running you over with my car. I just got it and I'm a little excited! Oh uh, also we have a group project that's why I wanted to know if we could be partners or something."
"Oh, you want to work with me because I'm the smart girl?"
"Mhm!"
"Are you actually going to contribute anything to the project? I don't even know what we're doing."
"Of course I will! I mean I don't really know anything about historic events but um. I'll try. And also, we're supposed to write a collaborative essay about why we chose the class and a historic event that shaped us, or something like that."
"Due by the end of the week?"
Brett nods his head.
"Yeah, I was hoping we could work on it today after school? I get kind of busy at the end of the week, with family events and sports and all. You get it I'm sure!"
"Yeah sure, meet me in the library after school."
"Can do!"
Brett shoots her finger guns and gathers his items, which are a pencil and his letterman jacket. He looked severely unprepared.
Reagan couldn't help but stifle a laugh, watching him struggle to get his arm through the sleeve of his jacket.
Soon the bell rang, she went to her other classes, and eventually, she could eat lunch.
She decided to eat outside at the beginning of the year, still warm enough to enjoy the weather but not too warm it was unbearable.
She sat alone, sort of near the dumpsters. There was no one too close to her, but she could see other students on campus. She quickly spotted Brett, playing football with his douchebag friends.
Actually, it looked more like they were throwing the ball around and teasing him.
The worst part was when they decided they'd let him kick the ball, only to pull it out just in time, a gag straight from the peanuts.
People were right about him, he was as dull as a butter knife. How'd he even get into so many AP classes? He's probably just a cheater, using his parents to get his way in life.
Fuck it, she'd do the stupid project by herself. Certainly, she could make something up and have it be believable that he wrote it.
Brett probably wouldn't even show up to the library anyways, he'd either forget or stand her up on purpose.
The rest of the day was fine, nothing stressful. She had a couple of quick and easy assignments, and the one with Brett, nothing she couldn't finish tonight.
She was soon home, sitting at her desk and taking out her assignments for the day. She reached for her pink iPod nano, quietly turning on some music to listen to.
Reagan wasn't one to listen to music much, as it was sort of a distraction, at least in the words of Rand it was.
She did like Avril Lavigne quite a bit though, at least before she was replaced.
Reagan stopped for a moment, a memory from a couple of years coming back to her. She was at work with her father, who that day revealed Avril Lavigne died and was replaced with a clone.
Not a fond memory, she remembers being distraught. It doesn't mean anything to her now, she was used to much worse now. Still, the feelings she had then were making her feel uncomfortable.
Reagan, annoyed, sighs and turns the music off. Maybe she'll just work in silence like usual.
"Alright. Why would Brett care about history..."