pathology_doc (pathology_doc) wrote in blytonslash,

Something new

It seems this place hasn't seen action in quite a while.

Never mind; here is something to revive it, crossposted from my journal, un-beta-tested, because I am feeling daring (reckless?).

Title: Lacrosse Sticks and Lurking Secrets
Author: Pathology Doc
Fandom: Malory Towers
Pairing: Molly Ronaldson/Darrell Rivers... sort of. Implied Molly/others.
Rating: Somewhere between PG and M15
Warnings: Implied f/f slash. Older girl/younger girl, power/relationship themes. Nothing actually happens. Not "chan" by any stretch of the imagination.
Summary: Molly Ronaldson, games captain and schoolgirl idol, reflects on the problems that come with positions of power.

NOTE: This will probably be the fic that gets me into trouble with some people - but I have tried to keep it in good taste and explore the issue without degenerating into prurient self-gratification. I'm not going to cross-post it without encouragement. I will suppress it if the overwhelming reaction is howls of protest. Con-crit is welcomed.

...were you a hockey girl, tennis or gym?
Who was your favourite, who had a crush on you?
Which were the baths where they taught you to swim?
Sir John Betjeman.

Slinging her lacrosse stick across her shoulder, Molly stood in the middle of the lacrosse field and let her eyes follow young Darrell Rivers off the field. The girl was a problem, and not because she was a bad player. At that level they were pretty much all amateurs. No, what bothered Molly was Darrell's enthusiasm, because every time she coached Darrell, she had to confront the undiluted adoration that poured from the Third-Former's eyes. Molly wondered if that adoration was only professional, or whether there was something else as well. As a successful games captain, she knew other girls looked up to her, particularly those in the lower forms. And that was good, if you wanted to encourage the sort of determination, enthusiasm and team-first attitude that Miss Remmington had been praising Molly for ever since she was in First Form. But it wasn't good if it encouraged sentimentality - or worse.

Molly didn't much mind sentimentality per se; she herself had slavishly worshipped Marilyn, the games captain of quite a few terms back, for quite some time. Nor did she mind the "something worse" either: time not playing sports in the holidays was spent lazily sharing a book with her current best friend (she went through those a bit), and that had usually turned into leaning into each other, idle passes of hands through stray locks of hair and the occasional daring kiss if one was sure there was nobody watching.

And therein lay the problem. For Darrell Rivers - lithe, well-tanned, with curly dark hair and worshipful brown eyes - was just Molly's type. She'd been falling for girls like Darrell since she was twelve; and although her crushes had been unrequited at first, this had altered in her favour as she'd progressed up through the school. The vast majority had been with girls in her own form (or girls she knew from other schools), but occasionally she'd befriended someone from the form immediately above or below (and had been content to play second fiddle if the other girl was older).

Three years was quite a gap.

Molly didn't have much time to watch Darrell make her way back to the school, for Darrell walked with swift, powerful strides that held the promise of great things on the lacrosse field. She looked like she had endurance, and might easily run an older girl into the ground. How on earth did she get so fit? Good parents, no doubt, encouraging her - not like that Lacy child. And the tan was no doubt the result of summers spent on a warm beach - much of it in the water, judging from the way she'd seen Darrell swim.

Darrell was a conundrum; she adored her games captain, badly wanted to make the teams, and would do anything for Molly if it would increase her chances. How easy it would be for Molly to talk to the girl, gain her confidence, take her aside at the end of coaching. Just a quiet discussion on the finer points of the game, she could say, and her hand could slide around Darrell's shoulder and guide her in the direction of the stands. And she could sit down next to Darrell and look down at her, and see that adoring, worshipful gaze staring back at her... The trusting expression, the lips curved in an eager smile...


Molly suddenly felt quite ill. She saw rightaway that she loved Darrell madly, because she knew that Darrell was a ring-in for Games Captain if she didn't make Head Girl, and because... well, because she loved Darrell madly. And wanted her even worse. And it wasn't the wanting that bothered her, nor even wanting another girl. No, it was the fact that she knew she could have the attractive fourteen year old simply because Darrell adored Molly Ronaldson, Games Captain of Malory Towers, would do anything to please, and loved her school so much that she could be trusted to keep her mouth shut to protect its reputation.

And Molly's.

Molly sighed and stalked off to change in her own dormy - she didn't want to be in the same change-room as Darrell right now, because she really didn't trust herself. She might have a word to that Sally Hope girl, the one Darrell was always running around with: she looked like a pretty good sport too, and if someone else were around when Molly coached Darrell, it might be all for the better.
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