A/N: Warning, this chapter (and probably story) contains language and derogatory phrases some people may not be comfortable with.
Turning Tables
Falling In Lust
"Ben!"
"Ben!"
From the corner of his eye, he could make out two figures bustling towards him, one slender with flapping black pigtails and the other taller, a bit chubbier, with a goofy grin on his face. Benjamin Boykewich sighed at the sight of his two best friends, Alice Valko and Henry Miller, and pretended not to hear them, instead opting to shove his head into his locker. He wished he could spend all day there. This was so not what his first day of Freshman year was supposed to be like.
"Ben!" Henry yelped, slapping his hand against Ben's string bean back. "What's wrong with you? You need hearing aids or something?"
"Or something," Alice replied with a knowing look. She clutched her school books to her chest as Ben sheepishly pulled himself from his locker. "What's the matter?" she asked, eyes squinted more than normal, but in her typically monotone fashion.
Henry guffawed. "He's probably still just upset that it's the first day of high school and he hasn't gotten laid."
At the mention of getting laid, Ben's eyes trolled down the hallway, where an exotic looking Latina was lounging against the lockers in a skin tight white shirt, rolling a pair of batons between her limber manicured fingers. Ben swallowed a lump that had magically formed in his throat, the size and weight of an eight ball. The Latina in question was draped in the shadow of a taller boy, muscular with brown hair and a suave way of moving his lips.
"Hello! Earth to Ben!"
Ben blinked as he realized Henry was waving his hand in front of his face and he shrank back, glaring. "What?"
"Why didn't you call us once you got back?" Alice asked, in the voice that told him it was a repeat question.
"I –" Ben hesitated, then shook his head. "I think I caught a bug or something this week," he replied, avoiding Alice's searing eyes. "I didn't want to interrupt your last week in Monterey just so you could hear me hacking on the phone."
Henry resumed his usual grin and seemed to accept his excuse easily enough, but Alice eyed him with stark silence. Much to Ben's relief, she didn't seem to act of whatever suspicions might have been bubbling in her brain. Instead she turned away from him, looking in the general direction where the Latina was still flirting with the hunky brunette. "Oh."
"Oh?" Ben asked, suddenly feeling sweat at the back of his neck. "What 'oh'? There's no 'oh!'"
Henry's eyes shifted between his friends, then finally followed Alice's lead. He grunted a little. "She doesn't look like you're type, man."
"She doesn't look like anyone's type," Alice replied with a judgmental frown. "Except for maybe the drummer's, they look like they might be woven from the same cloth."
"How do you know he's a drummer?" Henry asked.
Alice rolled her eyes. "The drumsticks in his back pockets are a pretty good indicator."
"You've been looking at his back pockets?"
Alice snorted at Henry's insinuation. "For the record, no. But so what if I was? At least I'm not making a spectacle out of myself." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and stepping into his line of vision, wiping the corner of his mouth with it before shoving the issue into his shirt pocket. "Little drool there, by the way."
"Not my fault," he shrugged shamelessly. "She's hot, what can I say? Right, Ben?" When his backup never came he asked again, accompanied by a helpful nudge, "Ben?"
"Yeah, right, whatever."
"Geeze. What's eating you?"
Alice smirked. "I think you're moving in on Ben's territory."
"Territory? Huh?"
"Haven't you noticed?" Alice replied, her eyebrows high and lips curved in amusement. "She's a majorette."
"How do you-"
"Baton."
"Oh." Henry looked over in the Latina's direction again. "That's definitely not what I'd been looking at."
"Obviously."
Ignoring the verbal jab he continued, "But Ben's 'territory'? Really, Alice?" He gave her his most skeptical of looks. "She's not exactly in his league, if you know what I mean."
"And how do you know what's in my league?" Ben suddenly hissed.
Alice held up her hands defensively. "Hey! No need to attack, I'm just making an observation, that's all."
"And what observation would that be?"
"That you're around a whole convention of majorettes for a day and now you have your eyes on the most provocative one in school."
"How would you know what she's like anyway?"
"It's a small town, Ben. Word gets around." She threw another suspicious glance down the hall. "I'd stay away from her, if you know what's good for you. Think with your head, not with your-"
Ben was thankful for the bell cutting into his friend's voice. As much as he loved Alice and Henry, he'd had quite enough of them for one day. "I have to get to class," he sneered, throwing his backpack onto his shoulder and taking off in the opposite direction. From his peripheral vision, he caught Alice and Henry exchanging confused glances, but he didn't bother to turn back. What he was more focused on anyway was the fact that the Latina was no longer with the drummer, but now the drummer was chatting it up with a perky blonde in denim mini skirt and pink sweater. Ben's fist curled as he passed by them.
"Don't forget: the Youth Fellowship Hall! I can give you directions if you need them!"
"I'm sure I can find my way," the drummer replied, a sick smile on his face as the blonde beamed like she'd swallowed a light bulb. "It was nice meeting you, Grace."
Ben was so disgusted with the antifreeze sweetness of the way he pronounced her name that he wasn't even paying attention when he bumped straight into a girl attempting to cross in front of him, scattering her books and his backpack both to the ground.
"Sorry!" she squeaked, hiding behind a sheen of lush brown hair.
"Oh God!" Ben yelped. "I'm so sorry, I –"
"–wasn't paying attention!"
Ben nodded and dropped to his knees, gathering her belongings. "Guess I'm just having one of those days."
The brunette smiled. "Yeah." She pushed a wave of hair behind her ear and smiled nervously, her eyes shifting to the corners of their sockets in the direction of the drummer and Grace. "First day jitters."
Ben looked again, but Grace and the drummer were gone. "Yeah." He stood up and offered a hand to the girl, who grabbed his backpack and then his hand gratefully. "Thanks," she said, as they swapped back belongings.
"No problem."
"You, uh, aren't a Sophomore by any chance, are you?"
"No," he said, laughing just a tinge. "I'm just tall. Why?"
"I'm just a bit lost," she admitted nervously. "I missed Orientation because I was at band camp, so I didn't have a chance to locate the rooms of my classes. I was just hoping that maybe…" She shook her head.
Ben narrowed his eyes, taking in her soft features. Her clothes struck him funny: a sort of strange, dark blue silky short sleeve sweater, with multi-colored strips over a multi-colored striped baby doll top. She was like a little rainbow with brown hair and a baby face. She was, he had to admit, kind of cute. "Ben," he found himself introducing, before he realized he was even doing so.
"Amy," she smiled.
"Well…" he looked around. "Where's your first class?"
Amy tugged out a schedule from her jeans pocket and handed it to him, pointing a slender finger at the class in question.
"Oh!" Ben grinned and pointed to the stairs. "That way. I have a class just a few doors down from there after lunch. It should be right around the water fountain on that floor, if I remember right."
Amy beamed. "Thanks!"
At that point, the second bell tolled and Ben paled. "Or not. Looks like I just made you late for class."
Amy shook her head. "It's the first day. Maybe they'll be lenient?"
Ben nodded. "Hopefully."
Amy nodded. "Thanks, again. See ya 'round, Ben!"
"Yeah," Ben nodded, smiling a bit as she jogged off towards the stairs. "See ya around."
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"Ben!"
Six hours later, he was almost getting tired of hearing his own name, except this time, it was an familiarly unfamiliar voice. Ben looked up with a smile and saw Amy coming towards him, waving a friendly arm. "Amy! Hey. How was your first day?"
"Good. Pretty good," she nodded. "It got a little easier after the first class, I met a couple people who had the same classes with me later, so…" Amy shrugged. "You?"
Ben nodded. "Like middle school, but worse." The fact that Amy chuckled at that eased his nerves. "So you don't take the bus?" he asked, glancing around.
"My mom's picking me up," she answered, shaking her head. "But the middle school gets out before us, so she's getting my sister first."
Ben nodded. "I'm waiting on my dad."
"Hi!"
Before Ben could blink, Grace's sunshiney face was hovering in front of his and Amy's. The irony was that, if it had been a week ago, Ben would have given anything for even the tiniest excuse to talk to Grace Bowman, his crush all throughout middle school, and now he had it and he couldn't give a damn. "Grace, hi-"
"I'm Grace Bowman!" she chirped over Ben's voice while shoving her hand towards him. "Amy," she smiled awkwardly, "I just saw you two over here and wanted to invite you to the Youth Fellowship Hall gym tonight after the football game for a dance. Since the gym's being repaired, I thought it was the least we could do for the school. You can bring whomever you'd like, everyone's invited!"
Amy blushed a bit. "Th-thanks," she squeaked, "but I – I'm, uh, I'm-"
"You don't have to bring a date or anything, it's not that kind of dance," Grace quickly but in. "But," she looked at Ben, "if you want to come with anyone, that's perfectly fine too. Are you-"
"No!"
Grace shrugged. "Well, now you know. I hope to see you there! If you need directions-"
"I've got GPS, but thanks, Grace." Ben flashed his teeth and watched her skip off. He heard Amy exhale in relief and turned to see her pink cheeks. "Social butterfly, isn't she?" he asked, rhetorically.
"Yeah, everything I'm not," Amy muttered.
"'Scuse me?"
"N-n-othing." Amy shook her head, inadvertently hiding her face with her hair. When she pushed her hair back, her cheeks look like they'd been smothered in rouge. "You're not going, are you?"
"Well I-"
"Y-yeah," she stuttered. "Me either. F-forget I asked, it was stupid, I just-"
"Did you want to go?"
Amy looked down and began to play with the fabric of her baby doll top. "Do you?"
"Are you…asking?"
A car horn honked and they both looked up. A redhead was waving in their direction, while a pouty brunette girl with hair much darker and duller than Amy's sat in the front passenger seat. Amy scuffed her shoes together. "That's me," she muttered before sheepishly waving back. She skillfully avoided eye contact until she got into the car and then, right before shutting the door, she caught his eyes and nodded, "Yeah. It's Juergens, by the way. Like the lotion, but with a 'u.'"
Somehow, it sounded like a pickup line. "Was it a pickup line?" He'd never been good with things like that, not like that drummer. "She doesn't seem like the type to make the first move," he thought out loud. "But then, I never have been a good judge of character." He felt his pulse increase a little. Maybe it was just false hope, but he was willing to take it just the same.
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"God!" Adrian Lee, the Latina majorette, gasped, as her lover, the drummer, rolled off her onto the other side of the bed. Her face was awash of pale rose beneath her year round tanned skin and bits of her raven curls stuck to her forehead, cheeks, and shoulders thanks to the dewdrops of sweat that embroidered her body. "I needed that so fucking badly!" With a languid smile, she turned onto her side and propped her head up in her hand, balancing her elbow against her pillow. "Can you do that again, Under…" She licked her lips and allowed her eyes to travel halfway down her bedspread. "…wood."
Ricky clicked his tongue haughtily. "How many times can you stand?"
Adrian shook her head against her palm. "I'm sorry we didn't hook up last year," she smirked.
Ricky looked her up and down twice, the second time his eyes lingering on the curves of her chest, concealed only by the edge of the pink and orange sheet. He craned his neck a bit. "You're a better fuck than most of the girls I get with."
"Better?"
"Better," he repeated.
"Well," Adrian drawled, "it's nice to know I'm a better lay than your experienced hooker. I accept that with pride."
Ricky seemed ready to roll his eyes, but instead opted to throw his legs over the side of the bed and pull on his boxers that were in a heap on the floor.
"Oh, come on now, I thought you said you could go until I couldn't!"
"I need something to eat first. You have got something to eat, right?"
Adrian shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." When he left, she sat up in bed, holding her sheet to her chest. She glanced about the room and noticed her shimmery angel white bra haphazardly thrown across her lamp. Then she looked to the floor and noticed a shirt, Ricky's, turned inside out. She leaned over and grabbed it, sliding it over her nude form, then slipped from the bed. As she strode towards the door, her stomach growled, and she felt the vibrations in her throat. She opened her mouth to yell at him to get her something too as she got to the end of the hall, when Ricky came barreling around, running right into her. "Hey!"
"We have to go."
"What?"
"The dance," Ricky explained in a hurry. "We need to get ready to go to the dance."
"What dance?"
"The one Grace invited us too."
"Grace!" Adrian spat. "You're seriously wanting to go just to flirt up that little virgin? She's a Christian, you know. She's not going to fuck you."
"We're going."
"Nobody orders me around!" she barked. "Least of all not in my own home!" Adrian stood considerably shorter than Ricky, but stared him down in the middle of the hallway just the same. Finally, she placed her hand on his chest. "I need to take a shower. You're taking one with me."
"I don't do showers with sluts."
"But you'll go after virgins." She looked down at his crotch. "Got something you're trying to prove?" Adrian watched the veins in Ricky's neck enflame and smirked. "Fine, then. No shower. We've got time for at least another fuck. The smell of sex is better than perfume anyway." She slid her fingers into the elastic of his boxers and yanked him back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind herself.
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"Your name took me forever to find," Ben confided, leaning in close to Amy to whisper. "Idiot me tried every combination but 'Ju' until the end, when I was about to give up."
Amy giggled, her face a little flushed. "I'm glad you didn't," she smiled. "I," she hesitated, her cheeks glowing brighter. "I usually don't ask guys out. I mean…I never have before. You're the first. Not even for a Sadie Hawkins Dance. But…" She shrugged. "I guess I just…got a little braver over the summer."
Ben flinched at the last thing she said, but he was relieved that Amy didn't seem to notice. "I'm glad I called too," he nodded, pushing thoughts of the summer to the furthest recesses of his mind. "So, have you, uh…been on many dates before?"
Amy swallowed awkwardly. "No." She shook her head. "This is…kind of my first? My first real date."
Ben nodded. "I know the feeling." The car stopped and he looked up, noting his father's eyes in the rearview mirror. Ben cast an irritated smile at them and got out, rounded the car, and opened the door for his date, then offered her a hand, which she took, as she stepped onto the curb.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, Amy Juergens." Ben held up his finger. "Let me just go thank my dad." She nodded and he skipped around to the passenger side. "Thanks for the ride and…thanks for agreeing to take the Caddy instead of the limo. I didn't want her to get the wrong impression-"
"You're welcome, Ben," his father, Leo, said in a low, humble voice. "Just be careful, don't do anything your gut tells you that you shouldn't-"
"Dad!" Ben cut in anxiously. "We're at a church. How many bad things could we do?" At his father's disapproving look, he shrank back. "Look, point taken, okay? I'll see you in a few hours. Thanks again!" Ben returned to Amy's side and watched the Cadillac disappear from the church parking lot. He was so close to Amy, he could feel the fabric of her dress brushing against the tips of his fingers. Slowly, without watching, he maneuvered his hand closer to hers, until their fingertips were touching. Finally, he dared to glance at her.
Amy smiled demurely in return, then wove her fingers between his. For a few minutes, they just stood there in the warm night air, hands entwined, smiling at one another. Then music began to snake through the air as someone in the distance opened the Youth Hall doors. "Wanna go dance?"
"Sure," Ben beamed. They turned at one and headed for the entrance, not once breaking their bond.
As the two Freshmen disappeared into the Youth Fellowship Hall, Ricky's engine died in parking space, a mere ten or twenty feet from where Leo had dropped his son off. Adrian shoved the door open with a grunt and her heels clunked against the asphalt. She slammed the door and bent down, giving her reflection one last look in Ricky's passenger side rearview mirror, then she stalked off to the curb, where Ricky was already waiting. "We still have time to ditch this dump," she informed him sexily. "I'm not opposed to screwing in the backseat if that's what you're concerned about."
"I want to go in."
Adrian waved an arm, growling under her breath. "Fine! Whatever. Your loss." She thudded her heels against the cement, purposely trailing behind him. He didn't bother to hold the door open for her either, but she caught it in time and stepped inside. Her eyes robotically scanned the crowd, which was pumping with peers and interspersed with cheerleaders and jocks, visible by their bright orange and white uniforms.
"I'll find you in a while," Ricky said, then slipped into the pulsating crowd.
Adrian scowled. The last thing she wanted to do was socialize. Crowds were not her scene. Beds were. Or any place where two people could have sex that didn't involve others standing around to watch. If it wasn't for the fact that she liked dancing and the discipline required to be a majorette, it wouldn't be on the majorette team either, because she sure as hell hated to be around her catty teammates and they had as little respect for her in return. Worse still, she'd probably slept with most of the boys on the football and basketball teams last year, so the pickings were slim, unless she wanted to go after the Freshmen.
While the thought of Freshmen was flitting across her mind, she noticed Ben and Amy on the dance floor. They were laughing and dancing. "If you can call that dancing," she scoffed to herself. The song they were dancing to was coming to an end, the music was fading, but they continued their silly little moves until a slow song began, and Adrian almost laughed at the fear in their eyes as they tried to decide whether they should touch each other or sit it out. She folded her arms, waiting, and then rolled her large eyes when Ben finally fumbled his hands around Amy's waist and she, in turn, stood on her tiptoes to get her gangly arms around his neck.
Averting her eyes from the sickening display of puppy love, she spotted the perky Christian cheerleader, dancing with a hulky jock, one of the few she hadn't blown or laid the previous year. He was, supposedly, another good Christian waiting for marriage. Adrian had her doubts. Just then, she spotted Ricky approaching and glared as he cut in. The jock didn't look too happy either. "I could use that to my advantage," she mused. Jealousy was always a good tool to employ. Making up her mind, Adrian began to make her way over to him, only for another girl, a little redhead, to get there first. For a moment they talked and Adrian doubted he would accept the little brat's offer, but then the jock looked back at Ricky and Grace, and proceeded to take the redhead by the hand.
Her fist curled and her manicured nails dug into the meat of her palm. Adrian promptly detoured, heading for the refreshments table. Although she didn't drink, she felt as though she could almost use a spiked punched at this point, but of course being in a church, there wouldn't be any. As the music droned on, she inspected the contents of the table: buns, hotdogs, hamburger patties, baked beans, cookies, brownies, and typical red punch. Adrian picked up a brownie and nibbled at it. She preferred fudge to brownies, but it was the only thing chocolate available, except for the chocolate chip cookies, and that just wasn't going to satisfy her.
By the time Adrian had finished her brownie and checked her smile in her compact, the slow song had ended and the crowd was mixing up. She slipped her compact into her back pocket and looked up to find Ben at the other end of the table, filling two plates of food. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed Amy scrunched between two other girls, one of them the redhead who at danced with the jock, and the other an African American girl with a pout on her face. Adrian inched closer, straining to hear as the redhead spoke.
"…and you're right! I can't believe you're right! I just…walked up to him and asked him to dance and he said yes! I can't believe he actually said yes! A Sophomore, saying yes to me!"
"You should try it, Lauren," Amy said, looking at the African American girl. "This whole taking initiative and asking a guy out thing…it's pretty freeing. I mean, it worked for Madison and I, so…I think you should give it a go."
"And then what do I do when he rejects me? No way! I'm not as brave as you two, I prefer to do things the old fashion way and let the guy come to me."
"It's the twenty-first century, Lauren-"
"Oh shut up, Madison! You would be agreeing with me right now if Amy hadn't done it first, so don't act all high and mighty over there. Besides, it's not like you even asked him out, you just asked for a dance, big difference!"
Adrian breathed in, held it, and breathed out again. Returning to the end of the refreshments table, she noticed Ben was still there, this time filling plastic cups with the punch ladle. With a smirk, she sashayed over to him and leaned in close to his neck, breathing a saucy, "Hello, Boykewich."
The hairs on the back of Ben's neck stood up and he stiffened, accidentally spilling the punch onto the tablecloth. He knew that voice all too well, the way it pronounced his last name as if there was a v in it: Boykevich. He shivered as he looked over his shoulders, his face meeting tat of the Latina's Alice had been harassing him about that morning. "Adrian!" he shuddered. "I – I didn't know you were here –"
"I get that all the time."
"N-no," he stuttered. "Really, I didn't see-"
"Sure, whatever you say," Adrian yawned, looking him up and down with a smirk. "And how've you been…" She looked over her shoulder and, upon seeing that Amy was still caught up with Madison and Lauren, she turned back and placed her hand on Ben's knee, casually moving it up his thigh. "...Sausage Prince."
"Adrian," Ben gulped. "I'm here with someone…" He desperately tried to look around her, but was blocked each time.
Adrian ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth. "What's wrong, Boykewich? You look ready to piss yourself. What's a little chatting between friends, hmm?"
"Amy's coming," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Adrian, I have to go!" He abandon the drinks he'd been trying to pour and dashed around her with the plates, meeting Amy before she got to the table.
Adrian scowled as Amy accepted the plate, looking very peaches and cream as she giggled with Ben and then accepted a bite of sugar cookie that he held out to her. "Where the hell is Ricky?" She turned her attention away from Ben and his twig of a date, back to the crowd, and once again saw Grace dancing with Jack. "What the fuck!" she hissed.
"Let's go."
Without turning around she responded, "What's the hurry? Grace turn down your advances?"
"I said-"
"I know what you said," she interrupted. "And I'm waiting on an answer. You got blue balls again? Is that it?" She folded her arms, still without turning to him. Then, without warning, she felt him grab her by the shoulders and spin her around, landing a rough kiss on her lips.
"You gonna go or do I need to find someone else?" he demanded.
Adrian roughly grabbed his face, forcing him to look down into her eyes. She slid a sharp nail down the square of his jaw and down his throat until she came to his collarbone. Finally, she hooked it onto the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to her mouth, alternating between licking his lips and nipping at them. "Only if you promise to stay in bed until I'm through with you this time…" She found his crotch and gave it a deadly squeeze that echoed in Ricky's eyes. "Got it?"
"Screw you."
"Exactly!"
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A month-and-a-half into the new school year, dead center of October, it ended up an usually cool and cloudy night. Ricky had been set to come over, but Adrian had texted him to tell him not to, that she had a test in the morning that she had to study for that she on top of that, she wasn't feeling well anyway. Only half of the story had been true.
The Latina stood in the bathroom in front of the sink, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. She wore a white robe and no makeup, which was highly unusual for her. Her eyes were dull, hair not brushed, and lips abnormally dry if not a bit cracked. Her eyes fell downwards, landing on a small stick in her hand. On the counter beside her sat her cell phone, which suddenly began to ring.
Wordlessly, Adrian flipped the stick over: a pink plus. The stick promptly fell from her loose fingers, clattering into the sink. In a sudden rage, she cast her arm across the countertop, throwing all the contents – a hair brush, a tube of toothpaste, a couple pairs of earrings, tubes of lip gloss, eyeliner, mascara, and her cell phone – either into the sink or onto the floor. When her cell phone hit the floor, the battery popped out and slid across the tile, stopping at the grid of the heater vent.
Adrian slammed the door and slid down it, tucking her knees to her chest. She was pregnant. At sixteen. A pregnant Sophomore. Not the first, certainly not the last, but a disgusting disappointment all the same. It wasn't something she did often, but tonight she made an exception: she buried her face into her knees and began to sob. Just once. Just tonight. Just for being pregnant.
