Chapter Text
Pete Mitchell is eleven years old when his mother dies. He's in school when it happens, in Mrs. Johanson's English class, reading Oliver Twist of all things.
Pete doesn't know the word for it yet- this unlucky kinship he now holds with the book's protagonist, both now orphans.
It's irony. He'll learn it later, but he will never finish the book.
The Vice Principle, Mr. Klyde- an omega like himself, pulls him from the classroom swiftly after a quick discussion with Mrs. Johanson.
His teacher's eyes turn to him with a look he is now all too familiar with and the sight of it wrenches a knot in his gut.
Pity.
He had seen it now a few times at his tender age.
When officers in summer whites had handed his mother an envelope, giving their condolences for the loss of his father.
When the state troopers had confirmed that it was Barry's car wrapped around that tree.
When the nursing home up in Michigan had confirmed the passing of both of paternal grandparents a week a part from each other.
Death, it seemed, walked hand-in-hand with Pete, an unwanted malicious guardian angel hellbent on keeping him alone forever.
As Mr. Klyde stood beside him in front of the school waiting for child protective services to pick him up, he gently brushed a hand through his dark hair, pulling him into his warm embrace.
This would be the last time a maternal figure would ever hold him so gently and protectively. It reminds him immediately of his mother.
Who is now gone. Forever.
An anvil sits heavy in his chest where his heart should be. A river positions itself behind his eyes, both pressing out until the only relief he finds is in the anguished sobs he buries in the wool of Mr. Klyde's peacoat.
California is very different from Virginia, even though both are coastal states. The people are very different. And so are the schools.
For starters, his locker is outside and so is the lunch tables. It's an aspect of change he doesn't mind.
What he does mind is the cliques, more specifically, the segregation between people based on appearance and status that has already seemed to take place in his age group.
The school he transfers into doesn't have a middle school, instead its sixth through twelfth grade.
They all dress older than their age, trying it seems to fit in with the high schoolers who've already reached the ends of their adolescent puberty. Some of the omegas- both girls and boys- where cakes of make up, their hair cut into the latest trends.
Pete can feel sweat on his forehead behind his bangs and the imprint of his nails inside his palms from clutching them so tightly in fists.
His new teacher, Ms. Dall, introduces him to his class, all eyes already on him.
Pete knows he's on the scrawnier and shorter side, even for an omega. They see his oversized grateful dead shirt- one of the last few things from Barry- and his jeans that are over washed and second hand.
His shoes are scuffed up and visibly old; his hair a little too shaggy, his face still holding onto his baby fat and a pimple or two sparking up on his chin.
He keeps his mouth shut to hide his crooked teeth and shrugs his eyebrows up to hide his unibrow.
Pete does not fit in with these, primmed and plucked preteens. And they know it.
Ms Dall sets him down next to a girl who looks like she walked off the set of a movie, tan skin and flowing blond locks. She's got on a peasant blouse and bell bottom jeans.
She pops her gum as she gives him a once over. She smells sickly sweet and Pete tries to subtly cover his face with his hand to block it out.
He can't tell if it's her natural scent or not. Most of the kids in his class back home were too young to produce pheromone scents, Pete included.
"So where are you from?" She asks, her voice high and a little grating. Pete doesn't meet her eye as he says "Virginia."
"Oh my gosh! Isn't that like the south? Do you have an outhouse or something?" Pete's face reddens at the giggles of the other kids around them.
"No!" he defends, but it's already too late as other kids start to join in. "He totally does! He probably doesn't have running water either!"
"Is that why your teeth are jacked up?" "Look at his clothes!" "I bet your grandpa is your dad too huh?"
Pete fights off the overwhelming urge to both scream and cry over the brutal assault that seems to come from nowhere, but before he can do either, the door swings open and two people walk through.
The first is a girl who Pete guesses is older than them by the amount of black and white makeup she's wearing. Her hair is a frazzled mess of teased hair and braids. Her clothes are all black and she's got fishnet gloves on and spikes on her boots.
She's the coolest person he's ever seen.
Beside her is a boy, a couple years older than them. He's got on scuffed up jeans with the knees ripped out and a flannel long sleeve with a tshirt under it that says 'I like my MCs squared.'
His ears are pierced, his hair spiked up and he has the prettiest blue eyes. When they turn and catch Pete's, he's quick to look away.
"Ms. Benjamin, so good of you to join us." Ms. Dall says. The girl gives her a curt smile and crosses the room in a sluggish path to the seat right behind Pete.
She stops to give him a curious once over. "New kid?" She asks. Pete just nods, too awestruck. She holds out a hand to him. "Penny." He takes it. "Pete."
The blonde girl snickers beside him. "Look the freaks are bonding." Penny turns away from him to tower over her. He watches in vindictive glee as the blonde girl shrinks back a little in her chair.
"Heather, my dear. How about you fix that tissue paper sticking out of your bra before you start insulting anyone. Would be a shame if it slipped out and everyone saw how flat chested you really were, huh?"
Heather's face reddens and she not so subtly adjusts the front of her shirt, glancing down to see if there really was anything showing. A few kids snicker around them.
"Pen, sit down." says the boy that still standing in the door way, leaning against the frame. Penny huffs but slides into the seat behind Pete.
The boy is so cool, that much is obvious to Pete, a couple of kids near him visibly admiring from their seats.
"Thank you Mr. Kazansky for brining her in." Ms. Dall says and the boy shoots her a very handsome, very white smile.
"Oh no it's no problem, Cathy." Ms. Dall's face flushes as she tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It's Ms. Dall in school."
"Right." the boy says, and turns to leave with a salute.
The rest of the day goes by pretty slowly. Around lunch, Pete makes his way outside where groups of kids claim every table in sight. He stands awkwardly in place for a second, trying to debate whether not to head back inside and go eat in the classroom, when a voice yells out his name.
He turns to the sound and sees Penny waving at him from a group of other misfit looking kids by a tree.
When he gets there, he greets her shyly and plops down beside her.
"So" she says "How are liking California?"
Pete wonders if it'd be smart to answer truthfully. That he hates it here. That he's cried himself to sleep every night. That his grandparents handle him with mostly disdain and harsh words. That he would do anything to wake up back home in Virginia with his parents and brother.
Instead he says "It's different."
"You got that right." Says a familiar voice as a figure hovers over the both of them. It's the Kazansky boy from before.
Penny pushed at his knee with her foot until he backs away a little. "Pete, this is Tom, my dumb jock cousin."
"I think you mean genius jock cousin, Pens." he says amused and reaches out his hand to Pete. "Nice to meet you, Virginia."
Pete takes it with red cheeks. "My name's Pete Mitchell."
Tom grins. "I know."
Pete's face gets redder and he tries to pull his hand back. Tom doesn't let go. Instead, he pulls Pete up and swings him over his shoulder.
"How about a tour?" Tom says, Pete embarrassedly covering his face in with his hands as the other boy carries him around and introduces him to the other kids of their group.
They all laugh and introduce themselves even though Pete can't see them.
When the 'tour' is done, Tom sets him down again and Pete quickly wipes the embarrassed tears from his eyes.
Tom's face turns from amused to sympathetic in an instant. "Hey kid, it was just a joke."
Pete ignores him at first, too angry to do more than glare up at him. "You're a dick."
It's the first cuss word he's ever said. Tom hums. "That's true."
Pete shoulders passed him back to Penny. "Stay away from me. I don't like you."
He hears Tom chuckle at that. "Yeah sure, we'll see how long that lasts."
Pete's fuming when he sits back down next to Penny. He likes her enough, but her cousin is an insufferable jackass.
Pete looks back one last time and sees Tom smiling over at him with a group of other jock looking guys.
He glares back. Pete doesn't care what Tom says, he's never going to like him. That much he can promise.