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You again

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1983

Regina watched as many of her colleagues made their way towards the school building. Some of them came walking in large groups, chatting animatedly as they discussed their favorite band’s new album and passed along a single cigarette. Smaller groups climbed down from bikes or buses, but only a selected minority owned a car, which made her lift her eyes from her book when she heard tires screeching around the corner.

Robin was a dick of sorts, but he was never imprudent with his precious Corvette, and that was the reason why she thought it was strange when she heard the noise accompanied by loud music.

Regina scoffed and rolled her eyes when she saw who it was. The white GTI covered in bumper stickers made its way towards the parking spot right in front of where she was sitting, and if she didn’t know the driver was a perfect idiot, she would fear for her life.

As predicted, the blonde hit the pedal brake at the last second, making Regina briefly wince and the other occupants of the car jerk forwards and then backwards. They erupted in moronic laughter and then climbed out as the driver shut the radio off.

The group consisted on the four people Regina hated most.

Ruby Lucas, a minx with long legs who never smiled, came out from the passenger seat. She was tall and gorgeous, and probably had been the first girl to wear lipstick for class, and even though she had the whole school at her feet, everybody knew she had a major, possessive crush on Emma Swan.

Mary Margaret Blanchard came out next from the back seat. She was the only bonehead among the delinquents, and Regina had no idea why she hooked up with them. She was obnoxiously kind and friendly, and had a not so secret infatuation for David Nolan, who was actually nice but didn’t seem to know Mary existed.

Killian Jones came out after her, wearing his bandage like a trophy – a week ago he lost two fingers from his left hand when a homemade bomb exploded on his face. He reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, and his stupid hoop earring dangled as he marched in combat boots, freaking out most of the people in Storybrooke. Rumors had it he carried a pocket knife on his leather jacket, and Regina didn’t doubt it.

And finally came Emma Swan, slamming the door of the driver’s side as she slung her backpack on her shoulder. She was a green-eyed blonde with an insufferable air of arrogance and an even more insufferable smirk on her lips. She wore baggy jeans with holes on the knees and tight t-shirts, which make the imbecile look hot.

That was merely popular opinion – not that Regina agreed.

Regina hated her since they were in kindergarten; she vividly remembered the blonde running around the playground with her skirt in hand, flying it like a flag as the other kids laughed at Regina and her fluffy underwear.

On fourth grade, she hit Regina’s head with a dead bug during lunchtime, using a slingshot.

On sixth grade, she hid a dead mouse on Regina’s purse; the stink remained for weeks in their classroom and Regina waved a tearful goodbye to her purse when her mother put it on the garbage bin swearing to take revenge on ‘that Swan brat’.

On eighth grade, when Regina was in charge of the Student Committee, Emma Swan Christianized the prom’s punch with cheap vodka, which had Regina explaining to the school Principal why so many kids went home inebriated.

She would even pick up fights with Robin, such as spraying his locker and car with words that made Regina blush. They never managed to prove those had been Emma’s doing, but Regina knew in her heart that it was.

She had every reason in the world to hate the blonde, but she had no idea why Emma Swan hated her this much.

“Hi, Regina,” Mary Margaret greeted her with a chirp voice, bringing her back from her reverie as she passed in front of the bench Regina was sitting.

Killian blew her a kiss and Ruby walked past her without so much as a contemptuous look, but Regina felt her blood boil when Emma looked down at her with that smirk.

“Hey, Mills,” she winked. “Looking good today.”

Instinctively, Regina folded her arms across her chest, feeling oddly exposed. A few years back, she was the first girl in class to develop breasts, and Emma had always made a point to express how hefty they were.

Robin would always compliment when she wore V neck blouses, but when Emma said things like that, Regina felt as naked as she did in kindergarten.

Pig.

She kept following the band of rebels with her eyes as they crossed the school patio; Emma lit a cigarette, and Ruby picked it from her lips to take a drag.

Emma shrugged her off and retrieved the cigarette; just as if she knew, her eyes found Regina’s, and for a weird second, she didn’t look smug. Regina’s heart fluttered when she caught the small, genuine smile on Emma Swan’s lips.

It fluttered, it fucking fluttered, and it almost stopped when Robin grabbed her from behind to kiss her neck. Regina jumped from the bench and yelped.

Robin!”

For that reason, she didn’t have time to see Emma’s expression darken as she kicked a trash can and stormed off to the bathroom, leaving her confused friends behind.

“Hey, babe,” Robin laughed at her jumpy reaction. “S’up?”

“You scared me,” she said, shaking her head and standing up to peck his waiting lips.

“Sorry about that, love,” he grinned, taking her books as usual.

He passed a possessive arm around her shoulders and walked her to her locker. They frenetically made out against it for the whole world to see until the bell rang and then he left her to go to gym class.

With the exception of Regina, everybody in Storybrooke High knew that ‘gym class’ wasn’t always ‘gym class’. Sometimes it meant football practice, but others it was a mere code to ‘going to bang Zelena inside the janitor’s cupboard’ because his official girlfriend never allowed him to move past the first base and he had needs. Manly men needs.

In her blessed ignorance, Regina entered the classroom and sat down on the front row, where she found another one of Emma’s illuminated depictions of reality on her desk. Today’s sketch was Regina with breasts the size of melons, and the word PRUDE in sloppy letters underneath it.

The brunette shook her head and scoffed. She was superior to all that, her mother had taught her after years dealing with Swan. She didn’t need to worry about that for much longer – soon, and very soon, her father would become Mayor, and she would be able to go to a better school – in Europe, if she so desired – and the days of putting up with Emma Swan would be over. For good.