1950s AU: Everyone is human. All greasers (including Jeremy and Tyler) are in their 20s while Elena and her friends (including Stefan and Elijah) are in high school. I've edited the story for flow but not for plot. I recommend rereading the entire thing. Thank you for coming with me on this journey. I love my devoted readers! Yours always, S/NerdDamon.
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Hi, I'm Queen Bee
'She'll sting you one day. Oh, ever so gently, so you hardly even feel it. Til you fall dead.'
Queen Bee (1955) . . .
"There's another table for you." Pearl says tapping my shoulder.
I take a look around the diner and sure enough, he's here, sitting at a booth ten minutes to closing. I see him here more often than I do at home. I wonder if Pearl knows that he's my brother. She never mentions it and you can't tell that we're related by looking at us. Something I don't mind, except when girls swoon about him to me. I hate hearing about how 'gorgeous' my brother is in the girl's room.
Jeremy's reputation in town is infamous just the way he likes it. It's no secret that he's the leader of a misfit greaser gang. I know that he's a criminal, but he's my brother and family comes first. There have been times when he's really come through for me, so I could never hate him. We just live in different worlds.
Tonight Jer showed up wearing a white shirt with a flannel button down, cuffed blue 501's and Converse sneakers. His hair is slicked back to the max and his right ear holds a spare smoke.
I adjust my pink uniform skirt, grab a notebook and walk over to the corner back booth. Of course, the jerk is with Vicki, he's real gone for her. Everyone knows that she's the fastest girl at school. There are locker doodles based on her 'perfect' breasts alone. Her reputation doesn't surprise me, considering how she dresses. Jeremy's friends usually call her Jail Bait instead of by name. She's the only girl in their gang and five years younger than all of them. She remains indifferent to my existence, no matter how much she sees me. I don't care, I wouldn't dream of becoming friends with her. She's a social reject.
I'm about to take their order when I hear the door ring. I turn to see Tyler and Damon swaggering in to make the scene. Tyler is an obscenely rich idiot. I don't know why Jer likes him, furthermore why a Lockwood would join a gang. Damon stares at me, the same filthy way he always does, as he takes a seat in the booth. There is something seriously wrong with him. Every time I look at him, he's looking at me. The loser never says a word to me, he does it to screw with me. Sometimes I think about telling Jer about Damon's lewd behavior. Would Jer protect his baby sister?
I wait for all of them to settle down before jotting down their orders. Jer doesn't bother acknowledging me as his waitress. He doesn't care that I have to work longer just because he showed up. In his mind, the town is here to serve him; he's cocky like that.
"What do you guys want?" I ask knowing I sound tired.
Jer orders a burger combo and Vicki asks for the same. Tyler wants a Triple-D turkey sandwich, cole slaw, and root beer. I don't bother looking at Damon when it's his turn. I keep my eyes on the notebook and wait for him to start.
"I want chocolate chip pancakes, steak and eggs, bacon, ham, a large orange juice and a slice of apple pie." Damon rambles off a list of breakfast items.
He drives me crazy, why can't he eat breakfast in the morning? I still don't bother to meet his eyes. "Is that all?"
"Hmm, coffee too." He drawls out.
Again, who the hell orders coffee at this time of night? He's like a damn vampire. I nod and walk away without another word.
I pick a seat at the bar while waiting for their food to come out. I can't begin to describe how tired I feel. I had school and cheer practice before this 7 hour shift. I'm dreading Mr. Tanner's homework that I still have to finish. We seem to be racing through our books in Honors English.
Lord, I'm counting down the days to graduation. Every day I've looked in the mail for my acceptance letter to Wesleyan. All of my teachers assure me that I have nothing to worry about. At school, I'm considered the Queen Bee; a title I don't mind much. I worked for it. I'm the valedictorian, head cheerleader, and the Red Cross club president.
Whatever happens, I'm not staying around this sorry town after graduation like my brother did. I'm getting out of Virginia. It's too rough living in the south while these debates go on about civil rights. It was nearly impossible to attend school last year because it kept opening and closing.
When our cook rings the bell, I say a little blessing for the speed and pick up the food. It takes me a few rounds back and forth since Damon ordered a lot. By some miracle, I manage not to spill anything on the floor. I can be a klutz on occasion, especially when I'm tired like now.
After I finish, I'm dreading to ask the question. "Do you guys need anything else?"
Jeremy glances at everyone, but no one needs anything extra. I restrain skipping from happiness to fill out their check.
It's nearly 11 at night by the time they finish eating, so I estimate getting home around midnight. Jeremy walks out with his arm around Vicki and as usual he doesn't bother saying thanks or goodbye. I know he won't be coming home tonight. Through the window, I see Jer put his leather jacket on Vicki's shoulders. He's predictably stopping for a smoke. Tyler leaves shortly after and the three of them hang outside before cruising. Damon is my last customer in the diner.
I reluctantly walk over to the booth to pick up the dirty plates. Damon is taking his time with the pancakes. While he chews, I can feel his eyes on me, as if I'm his next meal. I glare at him in disgust. I nearly curse when my hand starts to shake while holding the plates. With one look, he has a way of working up my nerves. He smirks noticing my body's reaction. I hate that stupid smirk. I want to slap it right off his face. If I wasn't such a lady, I would do it.
I return to the front counter and stare at the clock waiting for my shift to be over. If only I had a coin for the jukebox to keep me awake. We got a load of new records in this week. Working here isn't so bad when I get to hear the latest Johnny Cash. It takes Damon twenty minutes to finish eating and I'm in a near catatonic state as I wait to clean up. My elbow is propping my face when suddenly Damon is in front of me, less than a foot away. As I glance up, his blue eyes overwhelm me.
I look at him with an annoyed expression. "What do you want?"
I'm being rude, but so what. I'd like to get out of here sometime tonight.
Damon smirks extra cheeky. "I wanna give you a ride home."
My mouth almost drops open. I don't know what to say. We never talk; every day he stares at me, but words are never exchanged. This is beyond unexpected. I try to think of something to say. I don't want to be in a car with him. I barely know anything about him, even if he's my brother's best friend.
"No thanks... I have to stay here and clean up." I try to sound sincere.
Of course, just my luck, Pearl is eavesdropping and joins our conversation. "Sweetie, I'll let you go home now. It's way past your shift time. I'll see you tomorrow."
I'm surprised she's letting me go. She runs the diner very tight. I learned right away to never be late for work.
"Uh okay, great." I say without looking at Damon. I take off my apron and run off to grab my books from the back.
When I come around the front counter, Damon is still here. I realize for the first time how much bigger he is than me. I'm a doll compared to him. I like his body, wait- he's a greaser. I can't like his body. I approach him hesitantly, leaving a reasonable distance between us.
"You don't have to take me home. It's not a big deal, I like walking." I hope to sound convincing.
"Yes, I do. It's late. You never know what goes bump in the night." He smiles. I have never seen him smile before. This night keeps getting more unusual.
I shrug in defeat, I don't have time to argue and let him lead the way. While we walk to the parking lot in the back of the diner, I refuse to admire his rear in his tight black jeans. I like Damon's car... fine, I love his car. I love its glossy blue paint job. It's my favorite shade of blue. But really, most of the greasers have nice cars.
For a second, Damon is running around, because he forgot to open the car door for me. I stifle a laugh at his awkwardness. No doubt, he's the kind of guy that takes girls necking, but never on dates. It's obvious.
I can't help breathing in the scent of Damon's leather seats. I know his car is brand new from its smell. There also isn't a hint of cigarette stench in his car. That's pretty rare for a greaser. He takes off his leather jacket and tosses it on the back seat. I scoot closer to the window, attempting to put a lot of distance between our bodies. I think Damon notices because he lets out a small chuckle.
"I'm not going to bite... much." He says lewdly glancing at the gap.
I shiver at his language, but I don't bother replying. Girls shouldn't reply to crass comments. Thankfully, I don't have to be around him for long. I live some 10 short blocks away from the diner, making it easy to either walk or bike to work.
Every time Damon steers a turn, I see his muscles move through his white shirt. His arms look strong. He's more like a man than a boy. He smells pretty good for a greaser. He smells fresh.
When he pulls up to my house, I make it fast to get out of there. I say thanks for the ride and grab the handle of my door.
"Elena." He says in a husky voice, pausing my getaway.
My name rolls off his tongue in a sinful way. I feel feverish.
I glance at him, but not for long. I can't look at him for long periods of time. It does something to my knees. "Yes?"
He leans a little closer to me. I can't read the expression on his face. "I wanna take you out this weekend."
I'm silent for a second, alarmed by his proposition. "I'm not going out with you." I don't bother waiting for a reply as I get out of the car and slam the door shut.
I'm sure my rejection meant nothing to him. He's brought plenty of girls to the diner. I refuse to spare a glance back as I walk up my porch.
Doesn't he know? Good girls like me don't spend time with greasers.
Disclaimer: This is an inspired remix of "Forever" by Judy Blume and "The Outsiders" by S.E. Hilton. Characters and locations mentioned in the story remain the intellectual property of L.J. Smith and Kevin Williamson. The title belongs to Amy Winehouse. No profit has been made or will be made of this fanfiction.