fandomhighdorms | Main Campfire, Tuesday Afternoon

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Main Campfire, Tuesday Afternoon

Yes, it was ridiculous to be outside in this weather. Yet all the same, Miley bundled up in her new winter coat (the product of a collaborative shopping effort between her and Lilly; it had depended upon the use of Skype on their zPhones as Lilly wandered around the only store in Atlanta to have started the winter collection this early). Armed with the coat and various other winter accessories she had not imagined having to use this early, not to mention her trusty Uggs, Miley brought a cup of her father's famous loco hot cocoa out to the campfire and got started roasting marshmallows.

Freezing or not, she was still camping, and Miley could put aside her body temperature in favor of a return to country living.

[[I know this is a long shot, but if LJ cooperates, open!]]

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"What? Ew, no!" Don't worry, Caroline, Miley was totally judging those people too. "No, it's just my dad's idea of a cute rhyme. No actual loco-ness present, promise."

She wrinkled her nose, proving that she did not happen to agree with her dad on the "cute rhyme" issue.

"Oh thank God," Caroline said, seeming relieved. "Though I'm a little disappointed there's nothing crazy in that mug."

"Cinnamon stick," Miley pointed out, plucking the cinnamon stick in question out of the mug with two fingers and wagging it at Caroline. "That's... kinda exciting."

The real origin of the name "loco" came from the fact that Miley had the craziest nightmares in the world whenever she drank it before bed, but that was hardly the kind of topic that got shared with casual friends.

Oh good, so she was sharing nightmare-inducing drinks with casual friends and not warning them!

"And still edible in a way," she allowed with a smirk. "Not that I'd like, gnaw on one, but you know. Different. Edible. You should be in that cupcake class. We made some pretty insane things last session."

Oh, not to worry, Caroline -- it only really had that effect late at night. At this time in the afternoon, it should be safe.

Probably.

"I am, actually! I mean, in the class." She nodded decisively. "Last week they made us sniff soap. But it's usually fun. I made the most delicious batch of chocolate cupcakes with caramel cream cheese frosting. Like, to die for."

Stay modest, Miley.

"Ooh, I would say it sounds good but I'm getting over the part where you didn't share," Caroline replied teasingly. "Have you won yet? I swear it's rigged. Jake won and he like, can barely stir the frosting on his own."

That was a lie. She was simply incredibly jealous that he had won and she had not.

"Wait, there are winners?" How had she not known there were winners? "They totally never said anything about winners. Even though I've been giving the teachers, like, my entire batch after every class."

"There were last session," Caroline said with a nod. "And I so don't think that sucking up earns any prizes. God knows I'm fantastic with kissing a little teacher ass. Of course, I think I scared a couple of them back at the end of the spring term when I didn't realize the tests aren't your usual type of finals and I kept begging for study guides and test breakdowns." Thank God for Alaric on that one.

Miley's face lit up. "They aren't?" she asked eagerly. "Like how?"

Good scores on exams meant she could do a world tour this winter. This was a very important point of dicussion.

"No, like, last session, my finals were all practical stuff. I just had to use what we'd been learning about to do something. No like, blue books or scantrons," she sighed, clearly disappointed. "I made color coded note cards for nothing." Well, only if people laughing at her counted as nothing.

For a second, Miley was relieved. Then she thought about what classes she was taking and she groaned.

"Oh, no," she sighed. "Even gym?"

She was really, really bad at gym.

"Oh God, are you taking gym?" Caroline made a face. "I'm in winter sports and I so fear what this guy will make us do." She'd totally have to get Jack to translate if Bond gave the explanation in sports speak.

"Oh, whoa," Miley said, holding up both hands. "My one foray into winter sports ended, uh, badly, to say the least. I'm just about the world's worst athlete."

Really. She was horrible. Except, curiously, at dance.

"What sport? Was it skiing? Please tell me it was skiing." Because Caroline so thought that was the dumbest sport ever.

"It was skiing!" Miley was so relieved not to be the only one who was sports-retarded. "I was on the hill with my friends, and all of a sudden -- bam. Broken ankle."

Caroline eyes went all kinds of wide. "Like, massively snapped ankle? Ew, I so cannot even think about it, ew." She was surprisingly squeamish for a girl who drank blood for breakfast. "See, we are so not meant to ski. Sit in the lounge with cocoa, yes. Strap strips of plastic to our feet and fly down a hill, no!"

"It's a pretty girl thing," Miley affirmed emphatically. "I mean, no, my friend Lilly's a sports person. But there's a certain breed of girls who just, like, don't belong anywhere near athletic equipment, and I am proud to be a part of that."

Was it wrong to laugh at that idea. "Okay, I can't go that far, as a former cheer captain and all, but I've so known those girls." And mocked them terribly, which was why it felt so wrong to laugh since she liked Miley. "And those boys. Let's be honest."

Miley laughed. "Oh, yeah. My brother Jackson is so not sports-compatible." Or even remotely surf-compatible, but that didn't stop him from trying. "It's probably a Stewart gene, the whole sports failure. 'Cause lemme tell you, with the exception of horseshoes, my daddy is not a sports guy either."

And she was being unfair to Jackson, who was actually decent at volleyball, but okay.

"I tried cheering once. Didn't work out."

"I almost feel badly for Jackson when you talk about him," Caroline replied, looking sympathetic. "Cheering is not for everyone. I was kind of the queen of it back home, sigh. I don't really see the point now though, it's not like there's a physical challenge in it and I'd hate to be that girl who threw someone into the ceiling because I forgot my strength. So maybe that puts me in your category now."

Miley laughed. "Hey, just, whatever you do, don't be a mascot," she warned. "Those costumes are really, really hot and they smell like garbage. And sometimes there's gum stuck on the inside. GROSS."

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Main Campfire, Tuesday Afternoon

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