Status: ATTENTION: January 8th, 2024: Chapter 1 and 2 Updated! Expect new chapters soon! I have 160 pages of it pre-written as well as 21 pages of a sequel. I would ideally like to get out a chapter this week! And intend to rewrite the first chapter. Don't give up on me lol.

Judge's Daughter

Catcher in the Rye

Roselain’s P.O.V

I rise to my feet with a stretch as students begin filing out of the classroom, departing for their first period classes. Now begins the fun task of trying to figure out exactly where my next classes are. They really should print maps of this place. I scoop my origami turtle of the desk, tucking it into my coat pocket. The curious brunette boy named Billie watches as he slings a backpack over his shoulder.

“Whatever you do, don’t give any origami to that fucking weirdo,” Billie says, cutting his eyes across the classroom at Mr. Felton. I snicker at this, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Why not? He seems nice enough.”

“Yeah, he’d be nice if he wasn’t the biggest dickhead on campus.”

"Why? What'd he do?" I question as he begins walking away, motioning for me to follow.

"Look, maybe I'm not the best student, I've got a lot of grey areas and tend to not give a fuck about most subjects, but I've got a lot of shit stored up here," he says, drumming his fingers against temple. "Well, this asshole's got the audacity to tell me that I'm not going to amount to anything because I don't want to read this shitty, overrated book about some whiny 16 year old asshole in his quest against phoniness.”

"Shot in the dark here, but are you talking about Catcher in the Rye?"

"See! It’s so fucking on-the-nose that you can spot it off a vague description. Fuck that book, man," he spat, shoving through the doors and leading us outside. A jolt of pain shot through my eyes as the sudden change of lighting, forcing me to duck my head down, holding a perpetual squint. The sun really isn’t too kind on blue eyes.

"You know, it's actually a pretty great book if you give it a chance. Holden's an annoying little shit, but if you think about it, he's got reason to be." He shakes his head, letting my suggestion roll off his shoulders as he leads us in the direction of a short concrete wall.

"I haven't read it. Refuse to. My friend Mike's talked me up and fucking down about how great it is, but I won't hear it, man. Especially after Felton made such a big deal about it."

"Well, I don't blame you... he sounds like a dick," I murmur, watching as Billie bounds a few steps ahead, hopping up to sit on the wall. He pats the spot beside him, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and placing one between his chapped lips. I drop my bag on the ground, swinging myself up onto the wall beside him. He flips the carton open toward me and I slide one out, placing it behind my ear. He cocks a confused eyebrow, holding his lighter up questionably. I shake my head.

"Nah, I cherish these. My dad hates when I smoke, so I save them for a rainy day, y'know?" He nods, cupping his hand around his cigarette and lighting it. He took a long drag, squinting as the smoke tore through his lungs before seeping back out through the corner of his mouth.

"You know, you gotta be careful around Felton, though. See, to guys he's just a raging asshole, but to girls like you, that's a different story," he mumbles, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows as he stares off at the passing cars.

"What do you mean?"

"You're pretty, pretty girls always get harassed by him. He thinks he's fucking casanova, gonna sweep girls off their feet with his taste in literature and creepy-ass pickup lines. But I guess he's got this intimidating sense about him, so girls never report the weird shit he says. Seriously, just steer clear as much as you can," he warns, giving me a sideways glance, the cigarette lolling between his lips as he studies my face.

I stare at him blankly, attempting to register what he had just said. I've already seen what 2most girls look like here, and if that's what Felton's after, then I'm more than safe. My mind floats to the next bullet, the fact that this kid thinks I’m pretty. He continues staring at me, eyes slowly roaming over my face. I feel a slight blush creeping over my cheeks and I turn away, rolling my eyes at how juvenile I felt.

"I think I'll be alright..." I say, nervously pushing a hand back through my hair. He watches me intently, squinting as he takes another drag from his cigarette.

“So, what’s your story? Did you recently move to town or something?”

“Nah, I’ve been here my whole life.” He raises an eyebrow, his eyes scanning my face as if to verify that he has not, in fact, seen me before.

“What, didja get expelled from another school and had to come here instead?”

“Worse,” I say with a laugh. “I was homeschooled up until this year. Asked my dad if I could finish out my last year in public school. Really needed the change of pace.”

“Wow, so you willingly left your peaceful little home life and opted for this shit-hole? I’m starting to think you make bad decisions,” he chuckles. I grin, looking off in the distance, taking in the foreign view of public-school grounds.

“Maybe so, but life gets so mundane being at home all the time. I needed the social recourse.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Yeah…” I taper off, watching cars trickle down the nearby road. “Hey, since you know your way around the school, would you mind telling me how to get to my next class?” I ask, digging in my pocket and pulling out my schedule. He nods and takes the sheet, rolling the cigarette between his teeth as he reads. He snorts as he comes across the first teacher.

“Dr. Martin? That guys such a dork. Easy to find though. His class is literally right through those double doors, first door on the right," he says, nodding his head in their general direction.

I nod, holding out my hand for the schedule, but he brings it closer to his face, a crease forming between his brow.

“Hey, wait a minute. Roselain Nightingale. Are you related to Judge Nightingale?”

“Well, he is my dad, so yes, I am,” I laugh. Billie raises his eyebrows letting his arms go limp at his sides, suspended in disbelief.

“No shit? You don’t strike me as the type to be the daughter of a Judge.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” I ask, gently taking the schedule from between his fingers and tucking it back into my pocket.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to be out here skipping classes with me.” I whip my head in direction with a frown.

"We’re just on break right now, I’m not going to skip my first class.”

"Ah, come on. A little skipping never hurt anybody; besides, you're new. You have a week-long window to get by with anything you want,” he grins

"I really can't afford to skip right now, if word gets back to my dad-"

"I know, I know. Don't let a loser like me be a bad influence, alright? Remember, I'm not gonna amount to anything," he says with a chuckle and a wink, the sunlight cutting through his impossibly green eyes, setting them on fire. They don’t even look real, like some ethereal cosmic color, blanketed under pretty black lashes that would put any girl to shame. Smoke rings part his full pink lips, as he takes another drag from his cigarette, flicking off the ashes with a steady, veiny hand.

I'd been too nervous earlier to notice just how pretty this guy is, but seeing him out in the sun, an auburn tent glinting through his brown hair as it curled around his face, I almost want to take up his offer on skipping just so I can sit and admire his features.

Aesthetically pleasing people: a photographer's biggest weakness.

"Maybe another time, yeah? Preferably when it isn't my first ever day of school," I laugh, watching as he rolls his eyes with a grin. I hop off the wall, adjusting my jacket as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. Glancing back up in hope for some direction results in being caught in his gaze yet again. A smirk plays on his lips, eyes searing holes through my mind as he looks down at me.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he grins. I smile warmly, giving a small wave, hiking back toward class.

"Hey, Roz, wait," he calls out from behind me. I turn to see him flicking his cigarette to the ground as he hops off the wall, crushing it into the pavement with his black converse. He stretches his arms over his head, shirt raising to reveal what looked like something written in pen on his hip. "So, my friends and I are gonna go drink at the tracks tonight, maybe jam at a friend's house afterwards. You're welcome to come if you'd like."

I cock my head to the side, examining him as he cups a hand over his eyes, an attempt at not being blinded by the August sun. I give a subtle nod, moving on to the next part of his statement.

"Jam? You play music?" I ask, taking a step closer to him. He makes a face, scratching the back of his head and giving a bit of a shrug.

"Yeah, we uh, we got a band together a few years ago, we're not that amazing or anything, but with the right amount of booze, even the gritty shit sounds alright," he flashes a cheeky grin, burrowing his hands in his pockets.

Well, if I wasn't already intrigued by this green eyed boy, then this only gave me another reason to be. I'd always loved sneaking off to shows when I was younger and photographing the local bands; the singers screaming in people's faces, guitarists falling into the drum sets. Sweat, tension, and electricity setting the room on fire, it's all fucking magical. Of course, some of the bands get weird about having their photo taken, claiming I’m a distraction. I've always longed to find a band that didn’t mind having some weird ass girl climbing around on stage and crawling underneath them, getting in their faces to capture the energy. He tilts his head to the side as if examining me, maybe half expecting me to decline?

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll come," I say, smiling reassuringly. The corner of his mouth twists into a grin.

"Alright, well, just meet me here after school. We'll give you a ride."

"2Sounds good," I sing with a nod as I head back toward the building. I throw one last glance over my shoulder, watching as the green eyed boy swung himself back up on the wall.

"Better hurry, Blondie, don't be late for class," he calls with a smirk, waving me away with his hand. I roll my eyes at the nickname, pushing through the double doors.
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REWRITTEN AS OF JANUARY 9th, 2024

I rewrote this chapter too because parts of it were kind of corny and unreal. It needs some work so that it's not just blocks of dialogue, but also it's 6AM and I'm sleepy, so I can do that tomorrow lol. I just wanted to go ahead and update this so it matches the new first chapter.

If you are reading this, I would love to know!

xo,
Echo