Cheerleaders. Oi.

Who: Caleb and Isabelle
When: Right after school, before cheerleading practice
Where: MSHS

School was over (thankfully) and Isabelle had a good twenty minutes before cheerleading practice started. She liked to spend the time hanging out with the morons who thought they were her friends, cementing alliances and keeping her ears (and mind) open for any secrets that might find their way to her. So far, it hadn't proved very fruitful - a lot of cheating on quizzes (which she held onto just in case), borrowing and not returning clothes, and secret crushes on other girls' boyfriends. Potentially useful, but nothing terribly damaging. Shame.

After five minutes, however, she found herself growing bored of the neverending 'which jock is cuter' debate and excused herself on the pretense that she'd forgotten a book in her locker and needed to get it. Heading back inside, she decided to wander a bit and see if she ran into anyone else that was more interesting than the gaggle of airheads she'd apparently gathered.

Caleb had a few things to drop off at his own locker, and homework to debate blowing off. He'd lost any interest in school a long time ago--he simply had bigger shit to worry about than his history grade. But, he knew he had to keep showing up at least. Maybe there was something to dropping out. But then again, if he did that, he'd just be bored all day. Wasn't the town about due to be attacked by minions from hell or something equally as stupid? Deciding that he was going to do fuck all in the way of homework today, he slammed his locker shit, kicking at it with his back foot since the thing always took an extra shove to get it to shut right. Then he spun the dial, and was going to head off for home, but he turned and there was a girl up the hall, which pulled him up short for a second.

Isabelle had been heading towards her own locker when she saw the guy just ahead pull up upon spotting her; she immediately put on her innocent face, blinking and looking slightly confused as she glanced to each side and behind her, as if looking for someone else. They were the only two in the hall, so she turned back with a slightly wary but polite smile. "What?" she asked, with a light but slightly uncertain look. "Do I have something on my face? Is my fly down?" That last was a joke; she was wearing sweatpants.

He shook his head. "No. I just didn't hear anyone coming." he said. Which, after it was out of his mouth, he realized sounded pretty goddamn paranoid of him, now didn't it? Well, shit. So he started walking again, heading towards her since that was the way he was headed. He didn't think he'd seen this girl around before, not that that was a feat. There were so many people in this school he didn't pay attention to. But at least she wasn't Chrissy, come back for another fun conversation.

"I'm a quiet walker, I guess," Isabelle said, still in that same friendly tone. "Or you normally have really good hearing? I'll squeak or something next time, promise." The grin she gave him was open and sweet, teasing without seeming mean.

He quirked a half smile at her. "You do that." he said. "Or, just start wearing a bell. Either works, really." he added. He also wasn't sure what else to say there, so he just tipped a nod to her as a way of goodbye, before he started to head past her. A casual conversationalist, Caleb was not.

"I'm Isabelle," she introduced, falling into step beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to continue their conversation. She might normally have passed him up; he didn't look like he moved in any of the big circles at school, but it never hurt to get to know people regardless of status. One never knew what other people could bring to the table. "I'm new. I don't think I've seen you around here before, though. Crazy how you can miss people in such a small school, isn't it?"

"I don't know, I tend to ignore most of the population of it, so I'd say I miss most people." Caleb said. "I'm Caleb." he added, since he wasn't that much of a dick that he wouldn't give her his name. She hadn't annoyed him yet, so there was a plus. "How new are you?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. And then he had to quirk that little half smile again. "And weren't you headed the other way?"

"About... two weeks new," Isabelle supplied. "Give or take a day or two. Nice to meet you, Caleb," she said, holding out her four-fingered hand in introduction. She grinned then, as if in response to the tiny smile he'd managed. "I guess technically I was. I was going to grab a book out of my locker, but I can always get it after practice. I'm more interested in meeting new people, anyway."

Caleb went to shake her hand, and he noticed right away the finger thing. Which gave him pause, though mostly just in the way that it was odd to look at. He didn't stare, though--but he did look, eyes ticking to her other hand to see if they matched. It didn't appear like she'd had an accident and one got chopped or anything. "Well, if you were looking for the welcome wagon...i'm not really it." he told her, though it wasn't a brush-off. Just a fact. "After practice?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Oh, so you're not the go-to guy for coupons to the Sizzler?" Isabelle joked, noting his reaction to their handshake. "Darn, and I was so looking forward to it." She smiled. "And yeah, practice. Cheerleading. Starts in... about ten minutes or so."

"You're a cheerleader." Caleb said, and there was in fact, a little bit of something to his tone. "I should probably save you the trouble then and just tell you straight away that you and I? Do not travel in the same social circles." he said. A cheerleader with deformed hands. That was...interesting. Sort of. Though really the word 'cheerleader' just kind of automatically made him stop listening as well as he had been. Chrissy was a cheerleader...Dean's fabulously bitchy ex was...he had yet to meet one he'd voluntarily spend time with.

Ah. He was one of those. Isabelle let a slightly hurt look cross her face, looking as though she were trying to hide it. "I didn't realize liking a particular sport automatically dictated who I could make friends with," she said then, making sure to keep her tone nonconfrontational. "Never stopped me before."

"I didn't say it did. I said we don't travel in the same circles. That and no offense, you haven't annoyed me yet, which is record for cheerleaders, but I've never met a cheerleader I could stand to be around for longer than five minutes without homicidal thoughts. So..." he trailed off, wondering how she'd deal with that, and actually vaguely curious about her reaction. Maybe. "Fair warning."

"I'm new here," Isabelle said, shrugging. "I don't really have a circle yet. I don't think I've ever really had a circle - I just meet people. If we get along, great, if not, too bad. It's never mattered where they sit at lunch or who they walk to school with." She wondered if he was annoyed by the cheerleaders because he was anti-establishment or whatever those fringedwellers thought was cool or if he genuinely disliked them based on personality. Judging from the majority of the squad, she had no trouble believing the latter. "Just between us?" she said, lowering her voice slightly. "They can be okay. In small doses. Some of the time. Kind of. I just hope other kids at school don't lump me in with them just because I like gymnastics and school spirit. What kinds of stuff do you do for fun, then?"

"To each their own, I can't fucking stand them." Caleb said, because he couldn't. If she thought they were 'okay' fine, but he wasn't going to buy into it just because she said so. He never claimed to be reasonable. "And realistically, you probably will be lumped in with them. Good luck with that." he added. "And you mean besides contemplating how best to kill cheerleaders?"

"Yes, besides that," Isabelle said dryly, lips quirking. "Why don't we pretend I didn't just tell you I was a cheerleader and see if that helps anything? I know it's hard, especially if you think I'd look better with a knife sticking out of my eye or something, but it might be a fun game for a minute or two."

"Knives in the eyes are too flashy." Caleb commented. "Not really my style. And I don't know exactly, maybe I don't have enough fun in my life. I go for walks, listen to music...that shit. What about you? When you're not jumping up and down in a short skirt, deliberately trying to make people lust after you?'

"Okay, I so did not choose the uniforms," Isabelle protested with a snort of laughter. "I believe that was a totally male invention. Guys get to wear pants, we're stuck with skirts? Do you know how cold that gets around here?" She grinned. "I like to read a lot, hang out with my sister, practice gymnastics. Stuff like that. What kind of music do you like?"

"Nothing you hear on the radio." Caleb said. He also watched her out of the corner of his eye, smirking faintly. "Are you that hard up for attention, or is it normal for you to follow around guys who generally seem disinterested in speaking to you?" he asked, and he could have sounded meaner about it, but didn't. He was almost amused.

"Maybe I like a challenge," Isabelle suggested, shrugging. "And anyway, if you were really that uninterested, you'd be ignoring me and not asking reciprocal questions. Music-wise... lot of things aren't on the radio. Were you just trying to emphasize how edgy and off the beaten path you are or do you have a deep and shameful love of polka?" She had a feeling she'd be able to get through to him - or at least keep working until she did. She'd always loved the tough nuts. They were so much more fun to crack.

"Maybe I'm curious to see how long it takes you to go away on your own." Caleb said. "You've got to sometime, you've got to run along and practice spelling with your arms." he said. "And you didn't ask me for specifics, you just asked what I listen to. I answered the question. If you want better answers, ask better questions, Rah-Rah."

"At best I've got five more minutes," Isabelle said as she checked her watch, "but not because of any success on your part, I feel obligated to add. I just don't want to be late. How else am I going to know how many g's are in 'aggressive'?" She rolled her eyes then, smiling, friendly act still firmly in place. "The question was plenty specific enough for normal getting-to-know-you conversation. You've just got your mind made up that all cheerleaders are the devil and you're ready to irritate me in hopes that I'd go away or something equally nefarious. So you interpreted it in the broadest way possible. So, fine. What particular and specific musical genres, bands, groups, solo singers, and/or specific songs do you enjoy listening to? Answers such as 'the kind you don't hear on the radio' don't count."

"I'd stop at the library to check that out first, don't go by your team mate's spelling." Caleb said. "Oh--the library. It's down that way." he said, pointing. "It's the big room where all the books live." he added. "And if I really wanted to irritate you enough to get rid of you, I could." he said. "But I wouldn't. I'd just tell you to fuck off, and stay that way, then put in a remark about how that shouldn't be that difficult a task for a cheerleader, and how I'm sure you've be fucked more than you've had hot meals, but I'm in a slightly more charitable mood today than usual." He paused. "Generally metal, industrial, alternative, anything hard. Mostly obscure shit people haven't heard of, occasionally some of it slightly more mainstream. I liked Sevendust before they decided to suck." he answered. "What is it you listen to?" he asked, slight mocking tone to his voice, like it was overly friendly.

Though she gave no outward sign, Isabelle was keeping tally of each insult he decided to throw her way. It was all right; she got the motivation behind it and it wasn't as if he mattered, so it really didn't irritate her - but she'd take each one of them back with interest. Eventually. "You know," she mused thoughtfully, as if caught up in speculation on his last insult, "that would be a lot of sex. I mean, a lot. Assuming you have at the very least one hot meal a day. More likely it's two a day for most people. So that's either two partners a day minimum or twice with the same person. In a big city, I guess you could probably do it. But in a town like Marquette? You're either going to run out of partners or all those poor guys are going to end up with friction burns in sensitive places. So I guess maybe a Detroit cheerleader could've had sex more than she'd had hot meals, but not in Marquette. Plus you'd have to make up for all the hot meals you'd eaten before you were old enough to have sex. And how would you remember? You'd have to work on an average, I guess, but you'd never truly know if you were ahead of the count or falling behind. Hm." She gave him a sweet smile. "Oh, nothing really that's on the radio," she answered, then checked her watch again. "But oh darn, time to get to practice. It's been fun, though, really, but I have to practice flicking my hair over my shoulder alluringly." With a particularly (and rather obviously) ditzy smile and giggle, she punched a fist in the air. "Go team!" Grinning, she waved. "Catch you later, Caleb."

"That's also assuming that you weren't fucking girls too." Caleb pointed out. "And no one said anything about it being different people. Though I hear there's a team discount if you're a jock. Though really, if you're doing whole teams, that'll put you over for a while. Backlog them and shit." he put in conversationally, getting to the doors at the back of the school. He turned to lean back against it, letting his body weight open it up behind him, and he stepped back to keep his balance at the last second, not stumbling. "Remember to stop by the library and get the dictionary." he told her, turning to head off without a proper goodbye. Cheerleaders. Oi.