"Deadly Connections"
By: Emily B.
Author's Note
Hello, residents of the Fanfiction community. I've finally gotten around to reworking on this fanfiction. I'm really happy to be working on it again and fixing the extremely major problems with the first version (plot gaps/plot changes/missing chapters/explanation problems/etc.). A lot of people have been asking me about the rewrite and I've decided that I've made them wait long enough. So, due to the recent events of my personal life, I've have been inspired to start the story again with a few more twists and things of that nature. My life has also given me quite a few ideas for the story. I hope that you all will enjoy the rewritten version of "Deadly Connections". On a side note, the reasons for Fanboy's depressed state will be explained in later chapters, so please save your questions until the end of the story.
Chapter One: The New Student
Neon streaks of vibrant green were scattered carelessly through the mop-top of raven hair. A pale, ghostly-white hand ran through the raven strands, contrasting against the color brilliantly. A heavy sigh escaped the pale, slightly chapped lips of the male who made the motions. His emerald eyes were closed loosely as he tossed his head back just slightly, letting his mind drift away into the lyrics of a song that played through the ear-buds of his music player.
He was just about to drift deeper into his mesmerized trance as the lyrics grew more dark and heavy, until he felt a sharp stabbing sensation against the back of his head. He jumped harshly, both startled and angered by the feeling. He quickly turned to the source, glaring at the snickering faces of his fellow classmates. Carefully, he bent over in his chair to retrieve the source of the blow, which was a tightly balled piece of notebook paper. Zack Smith, the seventeen-year-old who we've been speaking of, sighed harshly under his breath, already knowing something along the lines of what the note would say. Even with this knowledge, he unfolded the crumpled paper, his heavily rimmed with eyeliner eyes glaring at the words as he read them.
"Dear Emo-Whore,
Go cut yourself and make us all happy
Signed,
The World."
Zack, who preferred to be called Fanboy, stretched the paper in his pale hands, gaining paper cuts as he did so. Blood droplets gently stained the paper, soaking into the fibers, causing the mere drops to appear to be the size of small puddles. Feverishly, he crumpled the paper back up, throwing it into the crowd of grinning teens behind him.
"Eww, it has his blood on it!" A few students screeched, kicking the bloodstained paper about underneath their desks, soon turning it into a game.
"Goal!" A deep voice of a male classmate called as he managed to kick the paper underneath an air conditioning system that sat in the back of the classroom. "That's how it's done, Ladies."
Many of the girls in the class giggled and blushed as the male spoke and showed off his "soccer" skills. Duke, which was the freshly eighteen-year-old's name, smirked at them, winking at a few of the girls in which he took interest.
"Way to go, Bro," another male's voice stated, giving Duke a quick high-five as a group of other boys laughed.
Fanboy sunk down in his chair, pulling the hood of his fuzzy green sweater over his head. He growled roughly as he slammed his head on his desk. Just the voices of the fellow classmates felt like acid splashing against the nerves that ran through Fanboy's body. He hissed at the feeling as he began to feel physically ill. His stomach churned, but he swallowed hard to keep the bile down.
As the feeling slowly settled, he rummaged around through his backpack, which was carelessly thrown onto the floor next to his seat. He withdrew a raggedy black notebook, which was barely hanging onto its spirals. Papers were slowly beginning to break away from the spirals, causing Fanboy to have to straighten them back into place with pieces of duct tape. He opened the book, cringing at the smell of the past that was absorbed into the pages. The crunching sound of the book opening caught the unwanted attention of other classmates.
"Well, well, well," Duke, pushing his dirty blonde hair out of his face, spoke with a chuckle. "Off to write more "deep and dark" poetry there, Zack?"
"Shut. Up," Fanboy muttered, gripping a little tighter to the pencil in his hand, the wood threatening to snap. He refused to make eye contact with the taller male, who now stood in front of his desk. He kept his glare on the paper in front of him, words whipping around his head as if they were inside of a blender. "And never call me that again."
"Why not? That is your name, isn't it? Zack?"
Fanboy felt his body physically twitch with annoyance. He wanted to jump up from his desk and wrap his hands around Duke's throat, squeezing the life out of him and watching with a smile as the light left the pretty boy's eyes. But, alas, the raven-haired teen just sat there like a lump on a log, trying to shut out the world.
"Don't you have to get into some girl's pants or something?"
Duke gave off another stomach-churning chuckle, smirking slyly as he moved back to his own desk. He reached a hand over to ruffle the skirt of the girl sitting next to him, causing her to squeal lightly as her heart melted at the touch.
"At least I can get a girl," the eighteen-year-old beamed, keeping his eye contact on the girl sitting at the desk next to his own. He carefully ran a hand down her exposed thigh. "Isn't that right, Baby?"
The girl immediately went into a fit of over-joyful giggles, turning to her friends, who were also in the midst of their own giggling fits.
"Did you hear that, Duke called me baby!" The girl squealed, twirling her curly blonde hair between her fingers.
"It's not my fault you're a man-whore," Fanboy grumbled under his breath so he and his statement would go unnoticed. "At least if I find someone that loves me, they'll love me for me and not because I'm some pretty boy knock-off."
"Oh, yeah right. Nobody could love you," the voice of the blonde girl announced, giggling snootily as she looked at her fingernails, making sure the bright pink polish wasn't chipped. She smiled as she noticed the polish was still perfect.
The seventeen-year-old pulled the hood of his sweater even further down in front of his face, making it impossible to see the outside world as it hung in front of his eyes. He groaned lightly, trying to think of a comeback. Just as the words came to mind, he heard the door creak open and footsteps fill the air.
"Okay, all you hooligans sit down and shut up," the teacher's monotone voice announced as he moved over to his chair. He took a seat in said chair and picked up a few papers from the desk. "Alright, let's see. Exams, finals, grades, grades, more grades, gra- wait- this isn't a grading sheet. This is some sort of note."
The middle-aged man read over the note, his eyes narrowing more and more as he continued to read. Finally, he set the note, which was scrawled out on a tiny, yellow sticky note, down onto his desk. He groaned loudly and smacked his hand over his face.
"Another one?" Mr. Mufflin, the teacher, whined to himself, perking the class' interest. "Ugh, Class, today we're going to have a... bleh... a new student. You all know the rules by now. Be nice, show respect, no hurling spit balls at him when he walks in, blah, blah, blah."
Fanboy noticed the looks on the other student's faces turn into sinister expressions. This new kid was in for it, that much was obvious. The raven strands of the teen's hair bounced about lightly as he shook his head, letting off another sigh-like sound. He picked up his pencil and began to scrawl down words in his notepad, muttering to himself softly.
"Poor kid, he has no clue what he's getting himself into by coming to this hellhole."
An anorexic-thin redhead slowly climbed out of a raggedy car, practically tripping out of said car as it gave a violent jump. It was obvious the engine was dying. The eighteen-year-old reached into the seat of the car once he was outside of it safely. He grabbed a thin stick and a rather thick, hardcover book, which seemed to have a hallow face etched into it.
"Aye! Aren't you forgetting something, Kid?" A deep, raspy voice questioned angrily. The voice came from the man in the driver's seat. He quickly shot out a calloused hand, curving his fingers as a gesture.
"O-oh, right. Of course," Kyle, the redhead, muttered, growing flustered as he carefully moved his book under his arm. He rummaged around in his pockets, finding nothing. He fretted slightly, growing nervous as he began to whisper to himself. "Oh, please, let me have enough magic left for just this one thing."
The wizard gripped onto the stick in his hand tighter, focusing hard on the image of money in his head. He knew his magic was weak and he knew that if this worked, he probably wouldn't have his magic restored for a year. However, this was the only way to save himself from the stranger in the driver's seat. Luckily, the wand sparked, causing the redhead to smile. The smile grew as he felt the texture of money float delicately into his hand.
"Hurry up! I don't have all day!"
"Okay, okay! Here!" Kyle snapped, growing impatient with the man he didn't even know. He shoved the money, a total of twenty dollars, into the man's large hand. "Thanks again for the ride. I really appreciate it."
The man grunted, shoving the money into the glove-box of his car, which he was barely able to get closed.
"Yeah, you're just lucky I'm not one of those creeps that go around abducting and raping children."
Before Kyle could reply to the statement, the man took off out of the school's parking lot. The wizard was slightly stunned by the man's words, sighing as pain from the past filled his mind. However, he managed to shrug off the thoughts and focus on the situation at hand.
"Alright, Kyle, you can do this. Surely it can't be as much of a hellhole as the wizarding academy. C-could it?" The eighteen-year-old tried to reassure himself as he shook nervously. He clutched his wand tighter until his knuckles turned a pale shade of white and he hugged his Necronomicon to his chest.
He walked forward, forcing a confident, snooty smile as he pushed the double-doors open with his hipbone. He waltzed into the empty hallway, putting a slight swish into his walk, trying his best to appear confident and in charge. Every couple of seconds he would look down to a tiny sticky note attached to the cover of his Necronomicon then looked back up to the numbers above the classrooms' doors.
"One-hundred and four. Th-this is it," Kyle whispered, his confidence fading and his shaking growing more feverish. He reached out for the door handle briefly before pulling his hand back and setting his items down on the floor next to him.
Quickly, he conjured a mirror on the wall next to the door, looking around to make sure no one was viewing him. He looked into the full-length mirror, examining his body carefully. He ran his hands over the slight curves in his waist, much as a female would do when they tried on a new dress. He sighed heavily as he tugged down the yellow collar around his neck, revealing a deep slash that consumed his entire neck. The yellow turtleneck tube-top he wore was hidden by a small burgundy shirt, which hardly covered his slender stomach and the sleeves of said shirt hung off of his shoulders. With gentle, frail hands, he smoothed out his tight jeans, which were filled with rips around the thigh and knee areas.
"Well," he muttered, fixing his hair into place, giving his reflection a weak smile. He used the rest of his magic to force the mirror to vanish into thin air. He was drained magically, noticing his wand becoming more fragile as it threatened to snap in half when he picked it up from the ground. "I suppose I'm presentable enough."
Kyle gathered his items from the floor and once again reached out for the doorknob. He turned it slowly, peering into the classroom with a single golden eye. He gulped harshly, shivering with nervousness as he looked at all the other classmates, the boys in particular. Kyle shrunk back, everybody looked so intimidating. Everybody, except for the boy in the green sweater, which was decorated with a small purple face, a dead face with a stitched mouth. Without reason, the sight of the frail looking male gave the wizard a bit of security and confidence.
"Mr. Masters?" Mr. Mufflin inquired, noticing the door cracked open as many students pointed to it. The redhead gulped harshly, it was now or never. He walked into the classroom shyly, his pale, freckled face sprawled over by a deep blush. He nodded at the teacher before turning to the class.
"Um, h-hello," Kyle mumbled quietly, nearly choking on his words. His British accent made itself appear thicker as nerves took over his entire body.
Suddenly, an uproar of laughter broke out among the once silent classroom. Many girls giggled shrilly and started shouting out make-up tips and tips on the latest hairstyles, while the guys cackled and made false whistling sounds.
"Whoo! Somebody give me a dollar," Duke demanded, looking around at the confused faces of the people that were staring at him.
"Uh, why, Dude?" One of Duke's closest friends questioned, roaming around in his pocket and handing a dollar to Duke, who gave off an annoyed look.
"It was a joke, Man. I was just going to put it in our new stripper's pants, is all."
"Oh," the other male stated, slowly shoving the dollar back into his pocket. He looked rather annoyed and confused for a moment before two-and-two clicked together within his brain. He soon began to chuckle along with the rest of his classmates. "Good one."
"I knew it," Fanboy muttered, pushing his neon green and raven hair out of his face to get a better look at the new student. "Jeez, what kind of slut did they drag in here this time?"
Both anger and pain coursed through Kyle's body, causing him to twitch lightly. He wanted to tell the other students off, but was interrupted before he could even attempt to do so.
"Hey, you little monsters, calm down! Mr. Masters, sit wherever you want, I really don't care."
With a small growl from the back of his throat, Kyle nodded, looking over the classroom with his bright, golden eyes. A small smile arrived to his face as he noticed the only empty desk was next to the boy he had saw from the doorway. However, he couldn't act as though he was happy. He had to be tough this time, he had to make sure he wouldn't be bully-bait at this school like at his old academy. He forced a scowl as he walked over to the desk, his hips swishing lightly, provoking more laughter from the other teens around him.
The wizard flinched roughly as the cold metal grazed against the exposed flesh of his back. He blushed deeply with embarrassment as the laughter grew louder. He looked around the room with an angry pout, his eyes catching the stare of Fanboy.
"What are you staring at?"
"So," the seventeen-year-old sneered, his eyeliner making his emerald orbs shine brighter. "You're the new kid, huh?"
"Look," the redhead grumbled, glaring at the one who seemed to make his heart flutter. "If you're going to call me a whore or tell me to go fuck myself, then you can save it. I got enough of that at the wizarding academy. I didn't take it from those twits and I am most certainly not taking it from you. Do I make myself clear?"
Anger boiled up in Fanboy's veins. He felt slightly appalled at how the new student had jumped down his throat. He tapped his pencil onto his paper, causing unintentional scratches on the once clean paper.
"I just asked you a question! You don't have to be such bitch about it!"
"Zack!" Mr. Mufflin called, scowling lightly as his eyes fell upon the dark-haired teen. "Do I have to assign you another detention this week?"
The green-eyed teen sunk down in his desk at the sound of his real name being said aloud for the whole class to hear. He growled lightly and looked over to the redhead, who was holding a slight smirk.
"So, you're name is Zack, is it?"
"Shut up! Don't ever call me that! Ever!"
"Zack!" The teacher warned sternly, slamming his hands onto his desk. He was about to enter a long rant about making outbursts in his classroom, but was interrupted by the blaring sound of the school's lunch bell. He jumped slightly as the sound pounded against his eardrums, giving him a small shock of fright. "Ugh, everyone go to lunch. Oh, Zack, you're in charge of showing Mr. Masters around the school."
"Wha-what? Me? Can't you get someone else to do it?"
"No, now go."
Fanboy grumbled lightly, cursing the teacher under his breath as he stood up from his desk. He slammed his notebook shut roughly to express his anger, a few of the pages breaking free and floating onto the floor. The raven-haired teen sighed at this, but decided to leave the papers be on the floor.
"Come on, whateveryournameis," Fanboy demanded through gritted teeth, grabbing onto the fragile boy's pale wrist, pulling the redhead out of his seat. "If you're going to follow me, you're going to keep up with the pace."
"Ow!" Kyle exclaimed, feeling one of the bruises on his wrist being placed under such pressure. "That hurts, you numskull."
"Oh, quit your whining. We're going to be late for lunch."