Constantine Ashe: Does anyone notice?

Constantine hated school. He always slouched into the chairs so the teachers wouldn't call on him-- it worked, because they never did; either that or they simply shied away from his bored expression-- and didn't ever talk to anyone. It was a relief to find Ana, at the end of the day, and walk home through the old city with her. Once she graduated, in June, he thought he might just drop out. She was the only thing that made it bearable. A whole year without her for company, alone on that massive, crowded high school campus with everyone's eyes avoiding or sliding over him, would be intolerable, he just knew it.

Constantine and Anastasia Ashe were two of the weirdest people in the school, and it showed in how everyone else treated them. Constantine-- Connie to no one but Ana-- wore nothing but black, occasionally with a little silver jewelry, spoke to no one when he could help it, and failed most of his classes because he simply didn't turn in his homework and ditched every test-day. He was paranoid, restless, and sullen, and everyone in the school ignored him. All he ever did was watch, silent and aloof and sometimes a little angry, while people passed him without even glancing at him. But he never said anything to them for ignoring him, no matter how much he hated it.

Anastasia, on the other hand, was impossible to ignore. She scorned black, unless it was leather and tight, preferring jarringly bright, almost neon colors, particularly in her short, often-spiky hair. Her favorite was a neon red that positively glowed under the right lighting. She chomped her gum, clomped around in massive boots with massive heels to go with them, jangled with gaudy silver chains or studded bracelets around every available limb and then some, and piercings in every available orifice. Worse, she was very quick with her mouth-- and, when she wanted to be, very loud. She passed her classes with the minimum of work, was free with her opinions, and was known around campus as the worst bitch in the school.

And, when not in class, the two were inseparable. Neither of them really had friends-- Constantine had none, and Anastasia had a few who she spoke to without swearing at them-- so all they had was each other. Anastasia might have been a year and a half older than her brother, but she never complained about him shadowing her everywhere, and didn't mind smiling at him or making conversation with him. It might have surprised people how much she talked with him, without anything worse than playful insults, considering almost everyone else was subject to her caustic sarcasm and foul mouth, but no one ever saw them together except for lunch and when they left school at the end of the day. Since by some unspoken agreement, they never spoke to each other in the company of others, no one knew.

That day, they just drifted together through the crowd, Constantine with his hands in his pockets and Anastasia fumbling in her backpack for a cigarette and her lighter as they crossed the line from "on campus grounds" to "off campus grounds", in the midst of the usual school-departing flood. By the time they'd lost the rest of the herd, at the end of the block, her first cigarette was half gone.

"We're out of milk again," Constantine said first. "Think Dad would have bought some?"

Anastasia drew in another breath of smoke and nicotine. "Doubt it. Probably not even home yet."

"I guess we should stop by the store on the way home."

"Probably. I've got a little cash. Enough to buy milk, anyway."

"Good."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, covering another two blocks towards the nearest gas station with a minimart. Constantine was the one to break the silence again.

"I saw another one of them, today...."

Anastasia glanced over at him sharply. "Did he do anything?"

"Just... stared at me. Nobody else, just me."

"But he didn't do anything? Say anything?"

"No...."

Ana exhaled slowly, a long sigh of smoke and air. "Good...."

There were some people who didn't ignore Constantine, but they weren't students, and he didn't think they were teachers, either. In fact, they did the opposite of ignore him: they stared at him. Sometimes, if they got close, they would whisper to him, threaten him, brush by him like a cold breeze and make him shiver and hunch into his usual black coat. They never actually did anything... but because he knew they would, someday, he carried a knife whenever he thought he could get away with it, and sometimes when he probably shouldn't have gotten away with it, but somehow did, anyway. Recently, he'd even managed to steal his father's gun, but even that wasn't enough to make him feel safe. He knew that if they ever found him alone, and unprotected, they'd make good on their hissed threats and smirked warnings.

Ever since he was young, only eleven, ever since his last and most horrible trip to the hospital, they'd been trailing him. Rarely did a day go by that he didn't spy one somewhere, watching him, waiting; it was painfully obvious when one person from a crowd of many actually looked at him, so he always knew when they were there, even if no one else seemed to notice. Anastasia saw them, too, but not nearly as often, and always from a distance. They seemed afraid of her, of respectful of her, or both, and never came close or spoke when she was around. It was one more reason to spend time in her company, when they weren't at home or in class.

"Hey, Connie...."

"Yeah?"

"I'm... kinda doing something tonight."

"Doing something?" Constantine asked, looking over at her again.

"Yeah. I'm going out."

"You... never 'go out'."

"Well, I'm going out tonight," she said defensively.

No wonder she wasn't talking much; this wasn't something she really wanted to talk about, and on top of that, she felt guilty about it, and embarrassed. Constantine knew her well, and he thought he knew why, so he was silent for a moment, weighing her defensiveness against his hatred of being alone. Then he asked, though he thought he knew the answer already, "Can I come, then?"

There was a long pause where she didn't answer, and then they were at the minimart: a public place, with cars pulled up to the gas pumps and people washing their windshields while the dollars racked up on the digital counters. Anastasia dropped her second cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out under the heel of her boot. He waited outside on the corner while she went in, bought a gallon of milk, a few protein-bars, and another pack of cigarettes. She wouldn't let him carry anything, though he offered; even though it had been five years since he'd been sick, she still treated him carefully, as if he were likely to break. Since he was the little brother, not the big brother, he didn't try to over-rule her. She always won in their arguments, anyway.

"I've got a date, Connie," she said after they'd walked a few paces. "A real, honest-to-god date."

"A... date," Constantine repeated blankly. His sister didn't date. His sister didn't like people.

"Yeah. With this really great guy. He's in my government class. We've been talking all semester, and... he asked me out on a date."

"So you're going out on a date, with a guy, tomorrow night."

"Is it that hard to imagine?"

"Well, you've never done it before...."

Anastasia paused, turning to look at him fully, expression pleading. He could never say no to her pleading face, because she rarely used it. She only pleaded when she was desperate; she only pleaded when it was life and death. "Please, Connie... let me go by myself, this time."

He stared at her for a moment.

Don't leave me alone. Connie, promise me?

"Please?"

He sighed, reaching up to tuck a strand of bright red hair behind one heavily-pieced ear. "All right."

"Thanks...." She leaned over to kiss his cheek-- with her heavy-soled boots, she was actually taller than he was. "I promise I'll tell you all about it when I come home, after."

"You'd better," he retorted, and they started the rest of the journey home.