hannah

1. #1Hal and Hannah dynamic

   “Well, look who’s back in town.”

   Hannah tensed up at the familiar, feminine voice, and she turned around to find a woman her age with long blonde hair that hung down to her waist standing in the doorway, and she scowled slightly at the sight of her. “Hal Redwood.”

   “Hannah Smith,” she responded in a somewhat condescending tone. She nonchalantly blew a bubble with the gum she was chewing, letting it pop before sucking it back into her mouth. “I can’t imagine a nerd like you gets invited to too many parties like this. And yet you decide to spend it hiding in the kitchen?”

   She scoffed. “I’m surprised to see you here. Doesn’t your family prefer the company of rich, stuck-up snobs?” She lightly slapped her head. “Oh, that’s right, your family’s not the richest one in town anymore. Bummer.”

   “We’re still the second richest,” she retaliated, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

   Hannah resisted the urge to shake her head. As much as things had changed, they also stayed the same. Originally the local queen bee, Hal Redwood had been the mean girl in town, always putting down those she deemed beneath her and always flaunting her family’s wealth and power.

   She’d changed over time though, particularly after Hannah had helped her lift her family’s curse, and she had then been humbled even further after her family had lost most of their fortune during the whole Weirdmageddon incident, only managing to maintain their upper-class status by selling their mansion. She had even gotten a job working as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner, which had been rather surprising for Hannah when she found that out since her family must still be millionaires from what they had made off of selling their mansion to McGucket.

   The whole thing seemed to have humbled her, as did her fighting against her family’s control. But while she was no longer the mean girl, she still maintained a snobbish attitude around Hannah that really got on her nerves at times. At least she no longer antagonized her sister. In fact, Mabel actually considered them to be friends, though Hannah couldn’t exactly say the same. When it came to her and Hal, she felt that frenemies was a more appropriate title.

   “Right, the second richest,” she remarked, taking on a condescending tone herself. “Remind me how that happened again. Oh, wait, I remember now. Your dad had to sell your mansion to McGucket.”

   Her words got the response she wanted, and she watched as Hal’s cheeks reddened and she stamped her foot. “Don’t talk about that! It still ticks me off that we had to sell to that old kook.”

   Hannah shrugged. “Well, maybe if your family actually earned their riches instead of doing shady business, that whole thing could have been avoided.” She feigned looking thoughtful. “Although, if you did that, then your family probably wouldn’t have gotten so rich to begin with.”

   Once again, her words got the response she wanted, and she watched as Hal’s eye twitched in irritation. But then she regained her composure, smirked, and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe if you quit being such a total nerd, you wouldn’t be so socially awkward.” She ran her hand through her long blonde hair, flipping it back. “You help save the world and still aren’t as popular as me. How sad.”

   Hannah crossed her arms. “Popular, right. Is that what you call it?”

   But upon Hal having flipped her hair back, Hannah found her eyes roaming up and down her body, almost against her will. She was reluctant to admit it, but Hal Redwood was gorgeous. She’d always been pretty, even as a young girl, but she’d filled out nicely over the years, developing curves in all the right places. And why did it seem like she got more and more beautiful every year?

   Her outfit definitely showed off her assets though, and she took in her white high-heeled boots, impossibly tight blue jeans, lavender top, and purple jacket, her flat stomach visible between her shirts and pants, revealing her bellybutton. Her eyes lingered on Hal’s breasts a little longer than they should have, allowing her to deduce that she was about a D-sized cup, before her eyes returned to her face. She slightly groaned as she realized that Hal was aware that she had been checking her out a moment ago. And after the bubble she blew popped, she could see that Hal was smirking arrogantly.

   “You done ogling me?” she asked in a cocky tone. “I know you’re really big on mysterious creatures and such, but we girls are actually pretty common, even if the only girls a nerd like you ever really gets near are your mom and sister.”

   A light growl that she hoped Hal didn’t hear over the music playing escaped her, but she was quick to counter. “Hardly. I’m just trying to figure out if your tits and hair are as fake as your family’s history. You gonna follow in your mother’s footsteps and go the Botox route when you get older too?”

   Good, it seemed Hal took offense to that. “Botox? As if. First of all, I ain’t gonna be some trophy wife like my mom, so I won’t need Botox. Plus, I have natural beauty, and the Botox look just looks weird. Second,” she ran her hand through her hair, “this is my natural hair color. I would have thought a so-called smart girl like you would be familiar with the concept of a throwback.”

   Hannah tapped her chin, pretending to study her. “Well, you’ve definitely got the dumb blonde thing going for you.”

   Hal pointed at her. “Hey, I’m a straight A student; my parents wouldn’t expect anything less. But I guess I was expecting too much to think that a nerd would know not to judge based on stereotypes.”

   Hannah smirked at her. “Well, I bet your best subject is History. Should be easy for you since your family falsifies it. But here’s something for your Health and Science class. Blonde hair actually contains more oxygen in it than other hair, which is why it’s thinner and lighter than darker hair. So the phrase ‘air-head’ is actually pretty accurate. How’s that for your stereotype?”

   This time it was Hal who let out a growl. But then she back-tracked. “Of course a nerd like you would know a useless fact like that. Well, here’s an actual useful fact.” She reached up and gripped her breasts through her shirt. “I grew these all by myself; no silicone found here, so you can shove the idea that they’re fake up your ass. And if you spent any time around any other girls besides your sister, you might have been able to tell that I’m all natural.”

   Hannah blinked. She’d been slightly taken aback at the way Hal had grabbed her breasts and jiggled them, though she wasn’t sure why that had taken her by surprise. She covered it up though with another insult. “A natural blonde bimbo, maybe.”

   Scowling slightly, Hal suddenly marched over to her. Hannah held her ground though as Hal came to a stop right in front of her and poked her in the chest. “If that was your way of implying that I’m a slut, I can assure you that I’m no such thing. I value myself more than that.” Then she smirked. “Although, I guess that someone with any experience whatsoever may seem like a promiscuous person compared to a cherry girl like you.”

   Hannah raised an eyebrow at her. “‘Promiscuous’? Wow, Hal, that was quite a big word. Though I guess you’re used to big things fitting in your mouth.” She crossed her arms again. “And just for the record, I do have experience.”

   Hal didn’t seem bothered by the implication Hannah had made about her. Instead, her smirk just widened. “Hate to break it to you, Hannie, but your left hand doesn’t count as ‘experience’, though I’m sure you have plenty of it in that area. Spend many lonely nights on your computer, have you?” She took a step closer so she was practically in her face, standing about a head shorter than her. “This is probably the closest you’ve gotten to a real woman who’s not related to you since you’ve hit puberty.”

   The two stared at each other, neither giving an inch. Such interactions like this had become more and more common between them over the years. They would have these strange standoffs where they would constantly try to push each other’s buttons. Hannah couldn’t figure out why, but she just couldn’t seem to stop baiting her, and the same seemed to be true of Hal too. They would constantly have these bickering confrontations that always had a flirtatious undertone, and there was always this sexual tension between them that only seemed to grow more intense over the years.

   With her this close, Hannah now studied Hal’s face, and it really frustrated her how attractive she found her. For some reason though, Hal always wore more makeup than necessary. Her gaze went to the eyeshadow she wore down to the glossy, pink lipstick on her lips, and her eyes remained fixated on them for much longer than was necessary.

   “See something you like?” Hal asked in a more seductive manner.

   Hannah forced herself to tear her eyes off her slightly parted lips. “Hardly. Just feeling a little light-headed from breathing in all your perfume. You bathe in the stuff?”

   Hal scoffed, now looking a little annoyed as she ignored her question. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You have a thing for older women.” Her Her gaze then went up to Hannah’s lumberjack hat, and she scowled. “Why do you still have that thing anyway? Still obsessing over your old crush?”

   She reached up and tugged on the side of Hannah's hat, making it lopsided. Scowling, Hannah reached up and fixed it. “No, Hal, I got over Wendy ages ago.”

   Which was true. Upon accepting that she had been permanently friend-zoned by the redhead and that Wendy would always see her as a little sister figure, she had eventually gotten over her first crush. But even if she hadn’t, the fact that Wendy had moved away for college a few years ago had put an end to any possible romance between them.

   Hal’s scowl seemed to lessen at what Hannah had said. “Then why do you still wear that hat?”

   “It was a keepsake. You’re supposed to keep a keepsake; that’s the point of them. And I like hats, so why wouldn’t I wear it?”

   Hal just scoffed. “It makes you come across as desperate.”

   “Says the girl who came here tonight so desperate to get laid she might as well have written it on her forehead.”

   “Oh, and what was on your forehead again?” Hal reached up and flicked Hannah’s bangs. “The Little Dipper, was it?”

   Hannah smoothed down her bangs where Hal had touched her hair. “It’s the Big Dipper.”

   Bringing her hand to her mouth, Hal let out a mocking laugh. “Oh, that’s right. The ‘little one’ is in your pants.”

   Hannah felt her cheeks fill with heat at that, and by the smirk on Hal’s face, she knew Hal could tell that she was blushing. She let out an aggravated growl and had a moment of honesty as she glared at Hal.

   “God, you frustrate the hell out of me,” Hannah grumbled.

   Hal’s smile just widened as she leaned in to whisper right in Hannah’s ear. “That’s because you want to fuck me.”

   If she hadn’t been blushing before, Hannah knew she definitely was now, and she willed the warmth out of her cheeks as Hal pulled back and gave her a challenging look before blowing a bubble right in her face. Hannah couldn’t help but rise to the challenge of that look.

   “I think you might be projecting a bit there,” Hannah told her, giving Hal an equally challenging look.

   Hal just grinned. “Is that deflection or denial?”

   “Don’t flatter yourself.”

   “Please, just admit it, Pines.” Hal leaned in close. “You want me.”

   Meeting her challenging gaze, Hannah leaned in too so that their faces were an inch apart. “Nice try, Northwest, but I don’t go for rich bitches. You may be a pretty face, but my taste in women goes beyond their looks.”

   Hal raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” She moved closer still, forcing Hannah to stand up straight again, and her breasts pressed against Hannah’s chest. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t feel anything if I did this?”

   Hannah swallowed, trying to do so as discreetly as possible. This was new ground for them. Their banter had always been somewhat flirtatious, even when they insulted each other, and it was almost always laced with sexual tension, but they had never gone this far before. It seemed like Hal was trying to see how far she could take things.

   “This is rather forward of you,” Hannah replied, ignoring the question. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

   “Just think of it like one of your little mysteries you like to solve,” Hal told her. “You can see for yourself just how real my tits are. If you know what a real girl’s tits actually feel like and not just your blowup doll, that is.”

   “I’m sure you have far more experience at blowing than me,” Hannah countered.

   “Quit trying to be a smartass.” Hal pressed her chest against Hannah even harder. “You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

   It was way too hot in here, and Hannah was having trouble thinking straight, but she still managed a comeback. “Speak for yourself. I think you’re enjoying it a lot more.”

   Hal raised an eyebrow in a blatantly flirtatious manner. “Oh?” She slowly brought her leg forward, pressing her knee into Hannah’s groin. “Then what’s this I feel?”

   Hannah’s fists clenched at her sides, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from giving a reaction. It wasn’t easy, though, and there was no way she was able to hide the bulge that had formed in her pants even before Hal had pressed herself up against her. Hannah often found herself growing hard whenever they had one of their bickering sessions, and Hal was only making it worse with the way she was digging her knee into her crotch.

   “Well?” Hal asked when Hannah didn’t respond to her question.

   “A natural reaction of the body,” Hannah replied, trying to sound bored.

   Hal just grinned arrogantly. “That’s quite the bodily reaction. Sounds more like an excuse to me.”

   Now Hannah gave Hal a challenging look of her own. “You’d have a reaction to the right stimulation too.”

   Hal took a moment to blow and pop another bubble. “Stimulation, huh?” Then she completely pressed herself up against Hannah, wrapping her other leg around Hannah’s while keeping the knee of her first one pressed between both of Hannah’s. “And what kind of stimulation would that be?”

   Hannah cut her eyes at Hal. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

   Hal poked Hannah in the chest before running her finger up Hannah’s shoulder. “Not as much as you would, I’d bet.”

   Hannah cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Are you interested in betting?”

   “Betting what?”

   “What do you want?”

   “What do you want?”

   “What are you offering?”

   “You couldn’t handle what I’ve got.”

   “Those sound like fighting words.”

   “Bring it on, Dipshit.”

   They fell silent as they stood there, pressed up against each other, Hannah’s back against the table, their faces mere inches apart. However, the moment was suddenly ruined as a teenager entered the room, carrying an empty snack bowl. She blinked at the sight of them, but then walked over to the table, set down the bowl, and then picked up the bag of chips and began to refill the bowl.

   Neither Hannah nor Hal moved or looked away from each other as their fellow teen refilled the bowl. Once it was full, she picked it up again before glancing at the two of them once more. Then she walked out of the kitchen with the now-filled bowl as if she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, as both Hannah and Hal maintained their positions.

   “Even if I was offering,” Hal continued, as if there had been no interruption to their bickering, “I doubt a nerd like you would last long.”

   “Funny,” Hannah replied, also falling right back into their banter, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

   Hal let out a mocking laugh. “Puh-lease. I’ll bet you’re a two-pump chump.”

   “Actually, I’m more of a two-hour champ.”

   This earned Hannah another laugh. “You’re not supposed to count the entire length of time you sleep when having a wet dream, dumbass.”

   Hannah gave Hal a pointed look. “I think only one of us is wet right now, Hal.”

   To Hannah’s immense satisfaction, she watched as Hal’s cheeks colored and she looked rather flustered. Score another one for her. Hal recovered quickly, though, even if she did maintain her blush. “You wish. Even if you were lucky enough to have me let you touch me, I don’t think you’d make it past five minutes.”

   “Ditto to that, only I can back up my claim.”

   “Yeah?” Hal gave her a challenging look. “I bet you couldn’t even handle my moves on the dance floor, if a nerd like you even knows how to dance, that is.”

   Hannah met her gaze, actually pressing her forehead against Hal’s so she could look directly into her eyes. “Believe it or not, I know all kinds of dances. Do you know any besides the horizontal tango?”

   Hannah suddenly realized that this had been a mistake. Their faces were too close. Hell, Hal was too close in general. She was almost afraid Hal could feel her heart pounding in her chest with the way Hal was pressed up against her, and Hal’s knee was still pushing against her hardness. If this didn’t end soon, she didn’t know what was going to happen.

   A sly smile suddenly crossed Hal’s face, and she once again moved her lips to Hannah’s ear to whisper into it. “If you want to see my moves, then meet me on the dance floor, Pines. We’ll see how long you last.”

   Hal followed this up by licking the shell of Hannah’s ear, causing Hannah to shiver. Hal pulled back and smirked at Hannah while biting down on her bottom lip in a very sexy manner. Hannah was doing her best to try and control her breathing as she considered Hal’s challenge, not sure what it entailed, but found she was unwilling to back down.

   “You’re playing a dangerous game, Hal,” Hannah warned.

   Hal just seemed to find that amusing as she held her gum between her teeth, then reached up to pinch it between her thumb and index finger, pulling on it so it stretched out. “I’m a Northwest, Dipshit.” She released her gum with her teeth and She released her gum with her teeth and twirled her index finger around it to wind it up before rolling it into a ball as she leaned in close. “You know firsthand just how bad we can be.”

   Then she brought her hand up and pressed her balled-up gum against her lips, pushing it into her mouth, and she found himself opening up for it without even thinking about it. Her finger lingered against her lips for a few moments before she extracted it.

2. #2hal and hannah dynamic

   What is Hannah and Hal relationship. I hate Hal. I hate her stupid grey hair and her disgusting polyester clothes. I hate how she goes out of her way to make herself look as unattractive as possible but still wants everyone to notice her. She should just wear a T-shirt with ‘Everyone! Pay attention to me! Right now!’ printed on it. I hate how everything she says is sarcastic and mean and sounds even more sarcastic and mean because of the flat, toneless way she speaks. As if showing emotion or excitement is way too uncool. I hate the way she shoved her fugly face into mine and jabbed a finger in my chest to make her point. Though, now I think about it, I’m not sure she did do that, but it’s the kind of thing she would probably do. But mostly I hate her for being so obnoxious and such an out of control bitch that even her boyfriend can’t stand to be around her and has to start looking for an out. Sure, here's the text with "Jeane Smith" changed to "Hal" and "Michael Lee" changed to "Hannah":

   ---

   The Ad♥rkable Manifesto

   1. We have nothing to declare but our dorkiness.
   2. Jumble sales are our shopping malls.
   3. Better to make cookies than be a cookie-cutter.
   4. Suffering doesn’t necessarily improve you but it does give you something to blog about.
   5. Experiment with Photoshop, hair dye, nail polish and cupcake flavours but never drugs.
   6. Don’t follow leaders, be one.
   7. Necessity is the mother of customisation.
   8. Puppies make everything better.
   9. Quiet girls rarely make history.
   10. Never shield your oddness, but wear your oddness like a shield.

   ‘We need to talk,’ Hannah told me firmly when I stepped out of the makeshift changing room at the St Jude’s jumble sale, which was actually four curtained rails arranged in a square, to have a good preen in front of a clouded mirror. I didn’t say anything. I just stared back at his reflection, because he was Hannah. HANNAH! Oh, Hannah. Where to begin? Boys wanted to be him. Girls wanted him. He was star of school, stage and playing field. Enough brains to fit in with the geeks, captain of the football team so all the sporty types bowed down before him, and his faux-hawk and carefully scuffed Converses also pulled in the indie crowd. If that wasn’t enough, his dad was Chinese so he had an exotic Eurasian thing going on; there was even an ode to his cheekbones on the wall of the second-floor girls’ loos at school. He might have been all that and a bag of Hula Hoops but, as far as I was concerned, if you were one of those popular types who got on with absolutely everyone then you couldn’t have much of an edge. To be all things to all people, Hannah had to be the least interesting person in our school. That took some doing because our school was bursting at the seams with mediocrity. So I couldn’t imagine why Hannah was standing there in front of me insisting that we needed to have a chat, chin tilted so I had a great view of his poetry-inspiring cheekbones. I could also see right up his nostrils because he was freakishly tall. ‘Go away,’ I said in a bored voice, wafting my hand languidly in the direction of the other side of the church hall. ‘Because I can guarantee that you have nothing to say that I’d want to hear.’ It would have sent most people scuttling back from whence they came but Hannah just gave me this look as if I was all hot air and bluster, then he dared to put his hand on my shoulder so he could turn my stiff, cringing body round. ‘Look,’ he said, his breath hitting my face, which made me flinch even more. ‘What’s wrong with that picture?’ I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Hannah having his football-playing, prize-essay-writing hot fingers on my clavicle. It was just wrong. Beyond wrong. It was a whole other world of wrong. I screwed my eyes tightly shut in protest and when I opened them again, I was looking at Barney, who I’d left in charge of my stall, against my better judgement, talking to a girl.

   Not just any girl but Scarlett Thomas, who happened to be Hannah’s girlfriend. Not that I held that against her. What I held against her was that she was vapid and had a really annoying voice, which was breathy and babyish and had exactly the same effect on me as someone crunching ice cubes. Scarlett also had long blonde hair, which she spent hours combing, spritzing, primping and tossing so if you stood behind her in the lunch queue there was a good chance you’d get a mouthful of hair. She was tossing her hair back now as she spoke to Barney and, yes, she was grinning a vacant grin and Barney was smiling and ducking his head, the way he did when he was embarrassed. It wasn’t a picture that made my heart sing, but then again ... ‘There’s nothing wrong with that picture,’ I told Hannah crisply. ‘It’s just your girlfriend talking to my boyfriend—’ ‘But it’s not the talking—’ ‘About quadratic equations or one of the many other things Scarlett doesn’t understand, which made her fail her Maths GCSE and have to retake it.’ I gave Hannah a flinty-eyed look. ‘That’s why Ms Clements asked Barney to tutor Scarlett. Didn’t she mention it?’ ‘She did mention it and it’s not them talking to each other that’s wrong, it’s how they’re not really talking at all. They’re just standing there and gazing at each other,’ he pointed out. ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ I said, even as I surreptitiously glanced back to where Barney and Scarlett were indeed gazing at each other. It was obvious they were staring at each other because they’d run out of things to say and it was awkward, nervous gazing, because they had absolutely nothing in common. ‘There is nada, nowt, not one thing going on. Well, apart from the fact that you and Scarlett are slumming it at a jumble sale,’ I added, turning my attention back to Hannah. ‘Right, now that we’ve cleared that up, feel free to go about your business.’ Hannah opened his mouth like he had something more to say about the utter non-event of Barney and Scarlett gurning at each other. Then shut it again. I waited for him to leave so I could go about my business, but he suddenly moved closer to me. ‘There is something going on between them,’ he said, bending his head. His breath ghosted against my cheek again. I wanted to bat it away with an irritated gesture. He straightened up. ‘And nice dress, by the way.’ I could tell he didn’t mean it from the almost-smirk on his face, which made me wonder if Hannah might actually have some hidden depths buried way below the surface of his bland exterior.

   I sniffed loudly and contemptuously, which made the quirk of his lips blossom into a full-blown smirk before he strode away. ‘Hal, my love, don’t take this the wrong way, but he was being sarcastic. That dress doesn’t look at all nice,’ said a pained voice to my left and I looked over at Marion and Betty, two volunteers from the St Jude’s social committee who manned the cake stall and policed the changing room. One of their stern looks would scare off even the most determined perv. I didn’t doubt that they’d pelt peeping toms with rock buns if the stern looks failed. ‘I know he was being sarcastic but he was also being very mistaken because this dress is made from all kinds of awesome,’ I said, stepping back so I could get my preen on, though my heart wasn’t really in it now. The dress was black and I didn’t normally do black because why would anyone want to wear black when there were so many fabulous colours in the world? People with no imagination and Goths who hadn’t got the memo that the nineties were over, that’s who. But it wasn’t just black; it had these horizontal patterns all over it – yellow, green, orange, blue, red, purple and pink squiggly lines that made my eyeballs itch – and it fitted so well that it could have been made just for me, which didn’t happen often because I have a very odd body. I’m small, like five feet nothing, and compact so I can fit into children’s sizes, but I’m sturdy with it. My grandfather used to say that I reminded him of a pit pony – when he wasn’t telling me little girls should be seen and not heard. Anyway, yes. I’m sturdy, stocky even. Like, my legs are really muscly because I cycle a lot and I’m kind of solid everywhere else. If it wasn’t for the iron-grey hair (it was meant to be white but my friend Ben had only been training as a hairdresser for two weeks and something went badly wrong) and the bright red lipstick I always wore, I could have passed for a chubby twelve- year-old boy. But this dress had enough nips and tucks and darts and horizontal lines that at least it looked as if I had some kind of shape because me and puberty hadn’t got on very well. Instead of womanly curves, it had left me with a general lumpiness. ‘You’d look so pretty if you wore a nice dress instead of all this nasty jumble sale stuff. You don’t know where it’s been,’ Betty lamented. ‘My granddaughter’s got lots of clothes she doesn’t wear any more. I could sort you out some things.’ ‘No, thanks,’ I said firmly. ‘I love the nasty jumble sale stuff.’ ‘But some of my granddaughter’s old clothes are from Topshop.’ It was very hard to restrain myself, but I didn’t immediately launch into a rant about the evils of buying clothes from high street chains, which peddled the same five looks each season so everyone had to dress just like everyone else in

   clothes that were sewn together by children in Third World sweatshops who were paid in cups of maize. ‘Really, Betty, I like dressing in clothes that other people don’t want any more. It’s not the clothes’ fault that they’ve gone out of fashion,’ I insisted. ‘Anyway, it’s better to reuse than recycle.’ Five minutes later, the dress was mine, and I was back in my own lilac- tweed, old-lady skirt and mustard-coloured jumper

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