Chapter Text
Clarke walked tentatively to her usual corner in the lunchroom. She was still not quite used to being completely alone. Wells had been her best friend since elementary school. In high school, he had been her only friend. They had been the sole members of the high school's chess club. Now, even the chess club would be gone because of him. He had passed away a week prior in a car accident. It was hard to think that she would never see him again. She pushed the macaroni around her plate, finding it harder than usual to stomach the cafeteria's food.
Clarke scanned the lunchroom, noticing the usual cliques gathered at their favored lunch tables. Her eyes rested on a group of softball players, one in particular catching her eye. She watched, mesmerized, as the girl ran a hand through her long, curly hair. A flash of green glanced in her direction and she quickly averted her eyes, pretending to be suddenly fascinated by her lunch. Clarke felt her cheeks flush and she hoped her gaze hadn't been noticed. She had had a crush on Lexa the softball pitcher since freshman year, but she was pretty sure the popular girl didn't even know that she existed. She was faintly reminded of how Wells used to tease her about her feelings for the attractive girl. He was just about the only person she trusted to tell about her feelings, but now he was gone.
Clarke sighed. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Cage and his friends approaching her from the other side of the cafeteria. Knowing how he liked to make fun of her, she quickly got up and dumped the remainders of her lunch in the trash. She headed for the exit doors.
“Hey Clarke!” she heard him yell and she sprinted out of the cafeteria into the nearest girl's bathroom. Clarke hid there for the remainder of the lunch hour, waiting until she heard the last bell for class before she headed out. She would be late for class, but at least she would be safe from Cage.
She slid surreptitiously into her seat. Her teacher's back was turned as he wrote out sentences on the chalkboard.
“You're late, Ms. Griffin,” he said, not turning around.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Kane.”
“I expect better from you. Detention, after school today.”
“Ooh, BURN! Little miss goody two shoes got DETENTION!” Cage hooted, his friends making loud animal noises along with him.
“Quiet, Mr. Wallace. Now please turn to page 52...”
The rest of her classes for the day were uneventful. Clarke prided herself in being a good student. She was attentive in class, did her homework, and studied her best for exams. This drew negative attention from her peers however, and she was picked on for being a “nerd,” especially by Cage.
She had always been one of Kane's favorite students, so she wasn't surprised when the detention he gave her turned out to be cleaning the art room. She knew that meant she was free to spend the time painting. Art was one of her few passions, and the school's art studio was her sanctuary. She was one of the few students who used the room regularly and her paintings lining the walls stood testament to that fact. She picked out a new canvas she had prepared the previous week and started sketching. She wanted to make something dedicated to Wells. She hoped that at least through art she could somewhat begin to cope with her grief.
The door clicked open. Expecting it to be Mr. Kane, she didn't look up. More footsteps filing in drew her attention.
“Well well well, what do we have here. Clarke the art geek in her natural environment,” Cage smirked.
Clarke didn't even feel her pencil slip through her fingers in her surprise. It clattered loudly on the floor. She swallowed, realizing she was cornered.
“This place looks like your personal studio,” Cage continued, pacing the room, “I didn't know the school was establishing Clarke Griffin: The Collection.”
His four other friends snickered at his comments.
“So where's your little friend to save you now, Clarke? Oh right, he's dead. HA!”
“You can mock the living, but not the dead,” Clarke found herself saying before she knew it, her hands balling up into fists.
Cage whistled, “Someone's got a hot streak that needs to be broken. Hey Clarke, I heard your detention was to clean the art room,” he knocked over one of her paintings and stepped on it, bending the canvas,
“Oops. Don't worry, we'll make sure you have quite the mess to clean up. Right, boys?” Cage nodded to his friends and they started trashing the art room, snapping her paintings in half and spilling whatever art supplies they could find onto the ground.
“NO!” Clarke cried, jumping in the way in an attempt to stop them, but they only knocked her aside.
“What's this?” Cage pulled out a small painting from behind a shelf. “Is this who I think it is?”
Clarke rushed to grab the painting from his hands, but he lifted it up over her head, just out of reach. “That's personal!” she yelled at him.
Cage raised his eyebrows, “Well who would have known, not only is Clarke Griffin an art nerd, but she's also got a thing for Lexa!”
“Give it back!” she growled, jumping for the painting.
“Sorry princess, finders keepers,” Cage tossed the painting to one of his friends, “I think softball practice is still going on right now. Why don't we share this masterpiece with the subject you were painting? I'm sure she'll be very pleased to see it.”
“No...” Clarke protested weakly, knowing it was no use. They knocked her to the floor again when she lunged for the painting one last time.
“Make sure she doesn't get out of here until this place is sparkling, Emerson,” Cage instructed one of his friends. They made their way out of the room and he slammed the door behind him. Clarke pawed at the door desperately, but Emerson was making sure she couldn't get out of the room. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Her artwork had been destroyed and she had been humiliated. Her feelings for Lexa were also out of the closet, and she would probably be teased even more for it. She missed Wells more than ever and couldn't bear the thought of ever facing Lexa in school anymore. She curled into a ball and cried for what seemed like ages before she finally got up and started cleaning up the mess.
Almost two hours later, she had managed to clean up most of the mess Cage and his friends had made in the room. She had just begun salvaging the remains of her paintings when the door swung open. Clarke looked up indignantly, expecting the return of Cage, but instead was met with a swish of long, brown hair.
Sweaty from practice, Lexa gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. She was in front of Clarke in two long strides, a painting clutched between her firm hands. “I believe this belongs to you,” she handed it over gingerly.
Clarke closed her mouth, which she was suddenly hyperaware had been hanging open. She struggled to form a word of thanks.
“It's beautiful,” Lexa continued. Clarke met the softball player's green eyes, which were warm with sincerity. “Is that really how you see me?”
Clarke was only able to nod in response.
Lexa looked around the room. “I hate how Cage thinks he can get away with anything just because his dad is the principal.” She began picking up the remnants of some of Clarke's paintings.
Clarke pinched herself, needing to double check that she wasn't dreaming. Lexa, THE Lexa Heda, had just praised her painting and was helping her clean the art studio. Her heart was pounding and her mind was going blank.
They finished collecting the pieces of Clarke's paintings for the next ten minutes or so in silence. Lexa had defaulted to her usual cool and reserved personality, the expression on her face unreadable. Clarke was unsure of what to say when they were finished. She somehow managed to squeeze out some apologies and words of thanks.
“Why don't we exchange phone numbers? You can give me a call if Cage ever gives you trouble.”
Clarke almost dropped her phone as she fumbled with it. Not in her wildest dreams could Clarke have imagined Lexa asking for her phone number. They walked out of the school together.
“I guess I'll see you around?” Clarke said stiffly, giving the other girl an awkward wave before unlocking her bicycle.
“I could give you a ride home,” Lexa offered.
Clarke shook her head, “I'll be fine. I don't live far.” Clarke was pretty sure she had used up all the luck she had in her life. She finally believed that there was such thing as too much of a good thing. She was pretty sure if she followed Lexa into her car, she would never want to leave it.
Lexa gave her a smile and wave as she pedaled onto the sidewalk, “Bye, Clarke!”
“She actually knows my name!” Clarke's thoughts were suddenly racing again as she pedaled away from Lexa. “And I have her number! And she was really nice to me! This can't be happening!”
Clarke could never have imagined the two of them meeting and talking to each other under such circumstances, never mind that Lexa was so friendly and caring underneath her cool exterior. Even with Cage around, maybe she could still survive the rest of her senior year after all.