ProjectBeautiful, a kickin' it fanfic

This is my entry for #ProjectBeautiful! I know, really late, and WOW I just realized I'm posting this on Valentine's day… how nice. I was trying to get it done by JANUARY 14th, but my stupid overthinking-ness got in the way. Ugh. So, this is the first of a series of oneshots for this compilation (I know I'm not using this word in the right context, but I like it and this is my author's note so I can do whatever I want. Anyway, here's how this is going to work: each chapter is a one shot that is inspired by... Something. Whatever that something is will be specified at the top of the one shot, whether it's a song or something that happened to me or whatever. This will be posted in the Kickin' It fandom, but there will be other shows included in here as well. Basically, this fic is like an outlet for random ideas that are too small to be a story by themselves but so good that I want to share them with you guys.

I tried to improve my writing two ways through this fic; one was making paragraphs bigger, and the other was using a bigger variety of words. I was doing well in the beginning, but then I shifted into the "GET THIS DONE" mindset, and... Yeah. If you guys see any mistakes, or some thing that doesn't make sense, PM me and I'll try to fix it.

I'm really mad at myself, you guys. my Language Arts teacher always says "quality versus quantity" and this was clearly a case in which quality was favored. I failed you guys. My main problem is that I'll forget little details that I include, or I'll add random ones that really don't belong. I can clearly see this inMissing Him, though not so much in Needing Them or OHDH. TT-TT Just... bear with me. Please. I swear, once Old Habits Die Hard is done, I will FINISH (or nearly finish) a fic before I start posting them, so there won't be as long of a wait. AND I will review them meticulously.

But... meh.

Inspired by: Project Beautiful

"A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and a man cannot live without love."

— Max Muller

"I was always an outsider, always standing outside, observing and trying to figure things out. Which is exactly what you need to do as a writer, I suppose."

— Monica Ali

"Hey, did you hear about the new kid?"

"Yeah, his name is Jake or something. You think he's hot?"

"I bet he is!"

It's kind of amusing how so many students at Seaford High School can create judgments about someone they don't even know. All that they know about this "new kid" is that he's male and that his name is something close to Jake. Nothing more. No more information than that.

None.

And yet, even though it's clear that the two girls speaking are as narrow minded as typical "popular" wannabe, I can't help my curiosity. The last new student was me, the "blonde freak that wore all black on her first day (a description courtesy of Lindsey Craneshaw)", and that was two years ago. I'm interested in learning about my successor.

The two girls turn around the corner. I open my locker, realizing that I had stood in front of it for at least ten seconds without opening it. They immediately lower their voices to whispers. I numb myself to their murmurs. It's not anything that I'm not used to. Just a typical Monday morning.

I study the interior of my locker for a few moments. I have a deep-rooted passion for drawing and photography, so the walls are covered with rough sketches and pictures. My books and things are piled neatly into a corner. Here and there are some different colored sticky notes, or "Thought Notes," that have random little statements about things I want to remember or look up. Once these notes have outlived their use, they go in a scrap box that I have on my locker door; sticky notes are perfect for origami (well, almost perfect because of the little sticky part on the back, but that can always be rubbed off.)

I zoom in on an orange (a color reserved specifically for Lindsey and her crowd) Thought Note that I put there on Friday;

'Avoid Lindsey; another Frank incident.'

Panic flashes through me when I hear said girl's voice approaching; speak (or read) of the she-devil and she will appear, as the saying goes.

I quickly slam my locker shut and turn to make my getaway. She must have caught the movement, though, because she spots me before I can escape.

"Hey, Kim!"

Wow. She actually called me by my first name. She must be pretty angry. Normally, it's an annoying nickname like "Crawfish" or "Crayfish," or at times even "Cray Bi***."

Ok, so here's how it is; I used to take martial arts at a nearby dojo with Lindsay after school. The two of us are black belts, but Lindsey has only achieved that status because her father is in high places within the mall that the dojo is located. Our sensei refusing the belt from her wouldn't please her father, so he was forced to give it to her. One of the guys there, Frank, has had this ridiculous crush on me ever since I managed to take out him and three of his buddies all on my own. He claims that he "digs girls that aren't afraid to beat someone up." All the girls that go to the Black Dragons dojo (minus Lindsey) can beat him at sparring, so I have no idea why he chose to focus on me. I eventually left the Black Dragons when his little crush on me started bordering on obsessive, but I still have to face him at school.

Lindsey and Frank have a history, though I'm not sure exactly what it is. Whatever happened between them led to Frank becoming the only guy at Seaford High that isn't hopelessly pining over her. Lindsey's incredibly possessive over her past flings, so she got really peeved when he tried (and failed) to flirt with me on Friday. And yet, when it comes down to it, she can still seduce him if she wants to. She just wants him to stop coming after me.

Fight or flight… fight or flight…

I turn to face her. "Oh, hey, Lindsey," I say, my tone coming across as bored, but on the inside my heart is pounding. Her words can sting worse than an angry bee that's been put in a jar that was shaken up, poked repeatedly when it calmed down, and farted on (anyone would be mad if they were farted on. Why should bees be an exception?). I would know, having been subjected to her torture for the past two years. I look her up and down, disgusted. Her skirt gives new meaning to the word 'skanky,' and her shadows Lorie and Donna aren't much better. Like, seriously. I may not be much with my Fall Out Boy t-shirt and jeans, but at least I'm not focused on exposing as much skin as possible. "Nice outfit. Go stand on a street corner, you might make some money."

Clearly having no response to that, she scowls. "Look, you need to stay away from Frank," she says, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip and the other hooked through her handbag. She narrows her eyes and leans in, giving me a noseful of her sickeningly-sweet perfume. "I don't know what you've done to him, but you need to keep your ugly self's fingers away from him."

This girl's stupidity astounds me. What could I have possibly put on him?! This isn't the Harry Potter universe (because if it was, Lindsey would be locked into a giant cage with Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy). There's no such thing as magic or wizardry or whatever the heck she might be suggesting. Frank's nice enough, but he really creeps me out. She can have him for all I care.

I roll my eyes and place a hand on the camera hanging around my neck. From past experiences, I know that this girl is not afraid to break things when enraged. "God, Lindsey. Some babies were dropped on their heads. You were clearly thrown at a wall, because you have issues. What could I have possibly done to Frank?"

She gasps angrily, calling me a synonym for "female dog" and raising a hand to slap me, but a tanned hand grabs her wrist before she can.

"Now is that really a nice thing to do?"

Whoa. Someone actually defending me? That's new. I observe the newcomer with a wary scrutiny; longish brown hair that ended just above his shoulders, a little mole on either cheek, and a trained physique. This has to be the new guy. No one else is oblivious (or stupid) enough to just grab Lindsey like that without fearing for their life. His gaze shifts to me for a second, and we make eye contact. My breath catches in my throat.

Those eyes…

Lindsey rips her hand away from him with an outraged sound, snapping me out of my little daze. 'What the heck was that, Kim?!' I scream at myself. "How dare you—" She stops short when she gets a good look at him. In a split second, she goes from enraged to seductive. Her shadows back off, knowing not to interfere whenever Lindsay's on the prowl. "Oh. Hello," she purrs, moving closer to him and with no regard for the term 'personal space.'

"Hi," he says curtly, deftly stepping away from her. She stumbles, her eyes widening in shock. No one's ever outright rejected her advances like that before. It makes me wonder if he's screwed in the head. Or gay, because that's also a possibility.'It would really suck if he was though,' the happy, girly part of my brain says. I tell it to shut up.

"Whatever's going on between you two doesn't have to get physical, you know. I mean, I know it's none of my business—"

"It's not," I say flatly. 'Don't make eye contact or you're screwed,' the other, gloomier part of me thinks. I don't ignore it, focusing on his eyebrow instead.

The eyebrow that I'm staring at arches as he looks at me again. "—but I'm sure this can be resolved without getting physical."

"You're right," Lindsey says, feigning regret and looking to me. "I'm sorry, Kim. I got out of hand."

If not anything else, Lindsey is the best actress I've ever seen.

She turns back to the brown-eyed stranger. "I'm Lindsey. Thank you for stopping me," she says, placing a hand on his chest and the other on his arm, looking up at him with a borderline predatory gleam in her eyes. "I really would have regretted hurting Kim. She doesn't deserve it."

I raise an eyebrow. Lindsey's made herself an example of bull crap at its finest. And yet, that bull crap is what reels in every guy at this school…

He steps away again. "You're right. She doesn't."

…except for this one?

'He's a keeper.'

'Shut up.'

'… I don't even know him.'

Lindsey's jaw drops in shock. The bell rings, punctuating his statement. The brave (or stupid) teen flashes me a small smile, and I watch him walk away with a carefree air and leave Lindsey's shadows to comfort her.

Lunchtime. One of my two favorite parts of the day, the other being art. As usual, I'm outside by myself with my lunch, my sketchbook, my pencil, and a few of my scrap sticky notes.

I hate the cafeteria. The volume is overwhelming and the place filled with jerks that revel in throwing food at me. I'd much rather come outside, where it's more calming and quiet. It's easy to get out here, too, because the cafeteria has sliding glass doors that give students easy access to the soccer field. Right next to the soccer field is the forest. If you know where to look, you can go in and find a small clearing decorated with colorful sticky-note figures and the occasional drawing.

My sanctuary.

Sometimes I come out here and draw, sketch, paint, take pictures, or make origami. The animals and the trees are perfect models for art, and they don't judge me on my appearance or throw food at me. They also never mess with the origami figurines I have hung up in different places around here. Heck, one of the birds has a blue paper crane in its nest. It's perfect out here; I have no idea what I'm going to do when it starts getting cold out.

And then there's The Tree, a special bald cypress tree that I loved as soon as I set eyes on it. Its trunk is about eight feet in diameter, and it has a strange naturally hollowed out spot within it; the hole starts about two feet above the ground on one side of The Tree, then it continues upwards for about two or three feet within the middle of the trunk and then curves out to the other side of the tree just enough that I can curl up comfortably into it. There's another, smaller hole at this place that provides light for my little hollow. It's this nook that I immediately move towards upon reaching my haven.

One of the best this about this tree is that it has "knees," or roots that extend upward above the surface of the soil. There's a giant one that right in front of the spot, so it's virtually undetectable to the outside eye. I only found it because I tripped over one of the smaller ones and spotted it behind the big knee. I like to think of all these knees around the tree as an impenetrable fortress that only I can access, and that anyone that.

My mind wanders to Lindsey and her shadows (wait, when did that happen?). I bet they never have to worry about their weight. Or their looks. Or their bodies in general. They have guys climbing over each other just to look at them. How do they do it?

It reminds me of why I've never actually gone for a guy. How the heck would I compete with Lindsey? She's perfect, if you put aside the little attitude problem. And then here I am, freakish and lonely and hideous. Wait, what am I saying? Why would I even need to compete? I don't do romance.

Not since Brody.

'Well, what if he's different?' Happy (am I really naming parts of my brain?) asks. 'What if he's not like Brody? I mean, you're clearly interested.'

'He's not different.' Gloomy (I guess I am) says darkly.

But the thought haunts me. What if he isn't like Brody? Brody, who only wanted me to make Lindsey jealous. Brody, who played me and my heart like a puppet and then left me when he got bored. Brody… who pretty much broke me.

I let out a frustrated sigh. 'Stupid brown-eyed new guy screwing with your thoughts…' Those eyes. Ugh, what the heck? Why are they so special? They're brown, just like mine are. I don't go into a freaking trance or something whenever I look at myself in the mirror. I don't understand. I suddenly realize that I don't know his name. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I suppose if I wanted to get to know him it would be a bad thing. But I don't want to get to know him.

I think.

I groan, deciding to drown out my thoughts with music. I take out my MyPod and ear buds. Just glancing at the tangled mess that my ear buds have become gives me a headache, so I decide to use my headphones instead. They block out sound a lot better than the ear buds do, anyway.

"I'm waking up, to ash and dust,
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust.
I'm breathing in, the chemicals…"

I grin as the familiar song starts playing. 'Radioactive' is one of my favorite songs ever (though all my other favorite songs are by Fall Out Boy). I've seen the music video, and I can't help but compare it to my school life. A world of people, oppressed by a greedy and evil ruler. Unfair fights that no one except the evil could win. But then one person comes forward and is able to best the evil leader…

…and lets him get eaten by all those he's "vanquished."

The resulting mental picture could be considered pleasant; Lindsay getting eaten by every guy she's ever lead on, every student she's ever put down, every person she's ever made fun of. It's a bit gory, but it's a satisfying image.

I slide out of my little nook, my mood having improved a little, and pick up a nearby branch that's tapered to a point. I picture myself on a stage with the branch as my microphone, belting out the lyrics with thousands of fans cheering me on. This doesn't look like it's going to be a drawing day, but who cares? No one else knows about it. Well, I suppose the jocks that are the reason I found this clearing know where it is; they chased me into the woods one time, and I found the nook and hid inside it before they got here. They assumed I ran into some unknown direction when they reached it, so they left.

And by jocks, I mean members of my old dojo. They tried to get me to leave my current dojo and rejoin the Black Dragons. Ty, the sensei, probably sent them after me. Freaking jerks.

"All systems go.
Sun hasn't died.
Deep in my bones,
Straight from inside."

I leap up onto a nearby tree that had fallen for some reason or the other and close my eyes, singing into the "microphone."

"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones.
Enough to make my systems blow.

Welcome to the new age,
To the new age,
Welcome to the new age,
To the new age.

Woah, oh oh oh oh
Woah, oh oh oh, I'm
Radioactive
Radioactve

Woah, oh oh oh oh
Woah, oh oh oh, I'm
Radioactive
Radioactve"

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. The animals usually never surprise me, even though they come and go with no warning, but this is different somehow. Back when I was still a Black Dragon, Ty had a brief obsession with Olympic javelin throwing. Apparently, I haven't forgotten any of those skills as I whip around and hurl the branch at the source of the movement.

The new guy freezes, hands together mid-clap. His eyes are wide as he slowly looks upward at the branch that missed impaling his head by inches. I notice that his bookbag is down on the ground by his feet. He looks back at me. My arm is outstretched from releasing the branch, but I don't make any move to withdraw it.

We stand there, frozen and looking at each other for a few tense seconds. He's probably wishing he never met me. I'm wishing that he would just leave and pretend he never saw anything. No, better yet, get a random and unnatural bout of amnesia and forget what just happened. Wait, even better, remember everything that just happened so he could leave and never talk to me again.

'How did he even find this place?' I think.

'He must have followed you! He's so into you.'

'He followed you. He followed you and intruded on the only place at this hellhole where you actually feel safe. You should be pissed!'

"You followed me," I state accusingly, lowering my arm and glaring at him angrily. He flinches. My glares are why most students don't really make eye contact with me.

His voice is an octave higher than I remember when he starts to speak. "And you—" He clears his throat and starts again, and I raise an eyebrow. I've never heard a guy's voice go that high. He runs a hand through his hair before putting his hands in his pockets. "And you almost killed me. I'm pretty sure we're both guilty here. Nice singing by the way."

I can't argue with that. Wait, yes I can. He's the one that came here!

I briefly reflect on the comment about my singing. My dad has always said I've "got pipes," but I'm not sure how to interpret hearing that from someone other than my family. I guess I can take it as a compliment…

He moves away from the tree he was leaning on, looking around the clearing, at my drawings and photos and origami pieces. I frown. I don't want him here. Not to sound like a possessive five-year-old, but this place is mine. I'm not just going to let anyone come here and do whatever they please! I may not rule the school like Lindsey does, but (let me reiterate this) this is MY haven, my sanctuary, my safe place. If he thinks he can—

"You're into martial arts?"

I pause in the middle of my mental rant, realizing that I'm not actually doing anything to stop him. Why hasn't that happened yet? He had moved over to my left, dangerously close to discovering The Tree, and is holding a drawing that I finished a couple of days ago. It's of Rudy, my current sensei, and also one of the many man-childs (man-children? Men-childs?) I know, in one of his (rare) moments of seriousness. In it, he's adopted a version "horse stance," in which his legs are widely spread apart and are bent at about a forty-five degree angle. In this drawing, he has one arm bent with the back of the hand touching his forehead and the other one curved downwards with his palm hovering about four or five inches above his thigh.

"Yeah," I respond, quickly jumping off the fallen tree trunk and walking forward to take the drawing from him. He lets me do it, turning to me and smiling. My face burns as I break eye contact.

'Are you blushing?! What the heck! STOPPIT!'

'You're a teenage girl, and you have something called hormones. You're allowed to blush.'

'But not because of some guy!'

'You know you like him.'

'No I don't! I think? I don't even know his name! UGH!'

"Are you okay?" his voice suddenly says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I mistakenly look into those brown eyes, now filled with concern, and my mind goes blank.

"I don't know your name!" I blurt out as a response. I mentally smack myself right afterwards; 'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—'

'No, good. You can get to know him.'

'ARGH!'

"Jack," he says, grinning sheepishly. My mind briefly flashes to Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow. Both Jacks are completely capable of making one question their sanity. "Sorry, Kim, I should have introduced myself as soon as I met you."

I open my mouth to do the same for myself, but then frown. "You know my name?"

"Uh… yeah. That Lindsey chick mentioned it." He shudders just speaking her name, and I can't help but smile internally. He remembered my name?

'Stop that! Stop that smiling! You should be defending your territory!'

My smile fades, and I nod. "Oh. Ok." I still don't say anything. I open my mouth to, but nothing comes out. WHY?! I don't like him! I can't like him. If I ever do, then he'll rip out what's left of my heart when he leaves.

Silence. I close my mouth and bite my lower lip, avoiding the two optical globes that are the reason I'm in this mess. Otherwise, I wouldn't have any problem sending him on his way with his (hopefully) metaphorical tail between his legs. Great, now I'm picturing him as a dog. My eyes flick over the clearing that I already know every little detail about, trying to get the image of his "tail" wagging out of my head.

"…this is a lot awkward than I imagined it would be," he murmurs. I don't think I was supposed to hear it, but I do and the statement piques my curiosity. His tail stops wagging.

"You imagined this?"

'Don't look too deep into it. You're nothing special. When there are bitches like Lindsey out there? No. You don't have a chance.'

'But he remembered your name! So he cares at least a little bit…

His head snaps up to meet my eyes, and I once again shift my gaze to his eyebrow. "What? Yeah," he says, though his voice has risen an octave again in quite a comical manner. "I mean… no?"

'See?'

'Oh, come on, don't tell me you can't hear the doubt in his voice.'

'Do you really believe that crap?'

'…'

Gloominess is clearly winning over, and my conflicted mood takes a turn for the worst. "Why are you even here?" I say quietly, bitterly. "Why did you follow me here? You know what, forget that. Here's a bit of advice: if you know what's good for you, you won't hang around me. I'm a freak." I spit the word out with disdain, quoting so many students at this school and stepping away from him. "You don't want me to ruin you when you just got here."

'Don't pretend you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart. This cruel world of high school has forced you to put self-preservation first.'

I ignore Gloomy (I have to stop that) this time. If this guy isn't really a fake (which I'm honestly not sure about), I don't want to drag him down with me. Or am I selfish enough to do that? But if he is a fake, then I'm just gonna get hurt. God, my thoughts are all over the place.

Jack blinks, surprised, before frowning. "What? No, you're not… what are you talking about? You seem perfectly normal to me, if not—" He gestures around the clearing. "—more than a little creative."

I laugh hollowly, fighting the burning sensation that signals oncoming tears. "This? This is just my outlet. I am nothing without my art. Heck, I'm nothing with my art." It's true. Sure, I've won a few contests, but that's only because my art teacher pushed me into entering. And if Jack looked a little closer at any of this, minus the origami and the photos, he might notice the underlying misery. Even in the drawing of Rudy; his face is tense and sad and weary all at the same time, his posture isn't sturdy, and his shoulders are drooping. It's why I've never showed it to the man himself.

Jack steps forward and reaches for me just as the first tear falls, as if to comfort me or something. "Kim—"

"I was doing just fine,
'Til you messed with my mind,
Why'd you have to be so, perfect?"

I move away from him (I've never been good with contact with others) and move towards my phone, which had been set to play iHeartRadio when lunch period was over. I grab it, my tray, and my other things, hating how appropriate the song is for right now. I wipe at my face and erase any excuse for Lindsey or the Black Dragons to make fun of me more than they usually do. "Look, Jack, it was nice meeting you and all, but if you care about yourself at all then you'll just forget about me. The bell's going to ring in exactly ninety seconds, so I suggest you get moving."

"We have a new student today, you guys," Mrs. Erdman says, as she opens the door for an all-too-familiar brown-eyed brunet.

'Crap.'

"Class, meet Jackson Brewer. Wow, you look exactly like a student I taught back when I was in Chicago," the blonde teacher muses. "Well, let's hope this class doesn't scar you for life like they did our last new student! Look at her." She gestures (with quite a flourish) in my direction, and I slide down into my chair. Surprise registers on Jack's face when he sees me, and then something else I can't identify. "Look how she turned out!" She turns to the class. "Class, don't screw this one up. We can't return him."

She smiles at me, winking in an exaggerated manner and letting me and the class know she's kidding. If only she knows how right she is.

The introduction does its job, which was to make the new student feel comfortable. It's just because Mrs. Erdman's nice like that.

"Jack, is just fine, 'mam. Thanks for the welcome." He turns to the class. "You guys listen to her. My old school doesn't take refunds."

That gets a laugh out of everyone (and an [unwilling] smile out of me), and he grins in a 'hey-this-class-might-not-be-so-bad' way. Curse him for being so charming.

"Ok, Jack, why don't you go sit next to Kim? She looks a bit lonely back there."

'Double crap.'

The next day, I'm back at the clearing with an untouched lunch and a scowl on my face. I was hoping that I would never have to see Jack again besides passing by him in the hallway (which is unavoidable), but, lo and behold, he's in every single one of my classes except two.

Great.

Weirdly enough, he hasn't said anything about my little outburst yesterday. In Language Arts, all he did was ask me a couple of questions about the assignment. I hope it stays that way, though Jack doesn't seem like one who would just let something like that go.

He tried to talk to me right before lunch period, but Lindsey came after him again. It's like she's completely forgotten about Frank and has decided to move onto this fresh meat, which sucks because now she has two 'reasons' to hate me. Well, it was the one time I've ever been grateful for something she did. It gave me a chance to escape from Jack.

Though, if he has any common sense, he'll probably try to come back and see if I'm here. That's what I would do. I suppose I could go to the library to avoid him, but I don't like the atmosphere of that place. It's the complete opposite of the cafeteria; it's too quiet. Out here, there is just enough sound to symbolize life.

'Wait, why are thinking about leaving? How many times do I have to say that this is your place! You should make him leave.'

'He hasn't even gotten here yet and you're thinking about making him leave. Am I the only one that sees something wrong with that?'

Frustrated, I tell both of them to shut up and crawl into my little nook. I realize I can just hide in here until he goes away; unless you come to the side of the knee in front of the hole, it's virtually impossible to tell that it's even here. So, I do just that.

…ugh. Why is this guy taking over so much of my brain? Maybe he got some sort of eye surgery that he helps him hypnotize girls with invisible eye lasers. Yeah. That's it. And he'll get them to fall for him by just looking at his eyes. And every single time eye contact is established, the girl falls deeper. That's gotta be it. Maybe I could get him a pair of permanent sunglasses that never come off. Ever.

'I hope you realize how utterly ridiculous that was.'

I do. I just won't admit it. But what if…?

"Kim?"

My heart stops. And then it resumes again, pounding as if it wanted to escape prison that is my rib cage. I would probably let it if I could. Then I could die and I wouldn't have to deal with this mess.

It's him.

I bite my lip and put in my headphones, starting my music to distract myself.

"He was a boy,
She was a girl,
Could I make it anymore obvious?"

Ok, distraction isn't distracting enough.

Frustration (once again) takes over, and I angrily rip the headphones off. I realize that Jack is talking, and I pause to listen to what he's saying.

"… just met the girl and you ruined it," he's muttering. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

Is he… berating himself?

"You just had to be a freaking creeper and follow her to a place that is obviously very personal. Freaking weirdo. Why didn't just talk to her in between classes or something, like a normal person? You probably screwed up any chance you had. Nice going."

I blink, not exactly sure what to make of this.

'Don't assume anything. He might be disappointed that he didn't get to mess with you.'

'Really? That's not what it sounds like!'

Not exactly sure what to make of the whole situation, I slowly slide out of my little nook. Jack has his back turned so he doesn't notice me when I come out. He continues to rant to himself, and I watch and listen curiously.

"…maybe you deserve to be alone. After all, you did cause Dad's accident," he says bitterly.

Whoa. This just got a little personal. The self-resentment in his voice is practically tangible. Hearing someone else bring themself down is different from doing it to myself. It's… I dunno, wrong if they don't deserve it. He was just being friendly. I'm the one pushing him away.

'Did you just say he didn't deserve it? Really? What the heck is wrong with you?!'

'Oh, come on. No guy is going to punish himself this severely for losing a girl if he was just going to screw with her. Did you not hear the comment about him being alone?'

Should I announce my presence? I don't know. Maybe… maybe he does actually wanna get to know me. I dunno. I've never had a guy interested in me before. And I'm sure I can back out anytime; a few harsh words from me can send anyone running.

"You're karma's little bitch now—"

"I'm sure karma has enough bitches."

He whirls around, and it's only a reflexive bend backwards that keeps me from getting nailed in the face. Even so, his fingertips brush the tip of my nose. I'm momentarily stunned by the raw pain spelled out on his features. He has the expression of a puppy that's just been abused and hurt. Puppy… The metaphorical tail is there once again, only this time it's stiff and comes with flattened ears on his head.

"Whoa, Kim, where did you—"

"Doesn't matter," I respond offhandedly. "Why are you doing this to yourself? All I did was tell you to stay away from me, unless you want to be known as 'the other freak."

He frowns. "How much did you hear just now?" he asks, avoiding the question.

"Enough," I respond, dodging his question just like he did mine. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Silence. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "…can we just start over?"

I frown. "Start over?"

"Yeah. Just… pretend we've never met?"

'Now's your chance! Break his heart before he can break yours!'

'No, don't! He really wants to have a chance with you! You can finally feel loved again…'

That got me. Since my parents got divorced, I've been living with the bitch that the law calls my mother. She and my dad have been fighting for custody over me, and I really want to go live with him, but he's fighting a losing battle. My mother is a lawyer, a good one at that, and she's doing all sorts of manipulative crap to make my dad look bad. Mom and I moved away from our old house in Tennessee, and there's no way for him to know where we are now.

No matter how good she looks on the outside, she is a horrible person on the inside. She drinks every night. She tortures me mentally (and physically sometimes) and claims that she only wants to keep me because she doesn't want my dad to win. She doesn't love me.

Some mom, huh?

I'm starting to think that not even my dad loves me, now that I think about it. He hasn't responded to any of my attempts to contact him in years now. Maybe he just gave up.

The thought kills me inside.

The last person that showed me some form of fondness (besides my dad) was Brody. What if… what if Jack can do that?

Ugh. Curse our species and our primal need for affection.

"Fine," I say softly. "We can… start over."

'Yes!'

'No!'

He lets out a breath that neither of us realized he was holding. He smiles and it reaches those horribly alluring eyes of his, and the ears go up and the tail starts wagging and—

"Hi. I'm Jack." He sticks out his hand for me to shake.

I stare at it for a second, before accepting it. "Kim."

"You're a fugly ass piece of crap."

"I hope you die a slow, painful, lonely death."

"No one is proud of you."

"Your mother is disappointed she ever shat you out."

"Do us all a favor and go jump off a cliff."

"What the heck is wrong with you?"

"I would beat you up, but that's animal abuse."

Every. Single. Day.

The notes are everywhere; in my locker, in my books, in my bookbag. I can't get away from them. They haunt me everywhere I go, within school grounds or not.

It's been about five months since Jack and I "started over." Our friendship is great, I guess; I've never really had a friend to compare him to. It turns out that he's into karate just as much as I am, and we and three other guys named Eddie, Jerry, and Milton all go to Bobby Wasabi after school. I never really talked to them three before Jack got here, but it's like he's the bridge between me and them. I talk to them, have actual conversations, and they're actually pretty cool, even if we don't hang out at school.

Jack is actual competition. Before he came to the dojo, I was the only black belt, while the other guys were at their greens and yellows or whatever it is they're at. It feels good to be challenged.

But what doesn't feel good are the notes. They started arriving around a couple of months ago. I think Lindsey's recruited some sort of professional insult writer, because these are so creative that there's no way she could have thought them up herself. All of them are some sort of derogatory remarks about what a horrible person I am.

I'm starting to think they're right.

I feel lonelier than I've ever been, even with Jack and possibly the guys (referring to Eddie, Milton, and Jerry.) as 'friends'. Even Gloomy and Happy have left me alone. How pathetic is that? My own brain has abandoned me.

It seems that everyone hates me anyways.

Why do they want me to die?

What have I ever done to them?

Why?!

"Why what?" Eddie asks curiously, making me realize that I had asked the last question aloud. I look at him; Eddie, with seemingly no worries (except for mild pressure from his mom urging him to go to some dance academy). Eddie, who's pretty much friends with everyone because of his lovable nature. Eddie.

I envy him.

"Why… is the sky blue?" I respond, internally wincing at the way my voice rises up towards the end of the sentence. I never have been good at lying. I notice that Milton, Jerry, and Jack are looking at me, too. I must have been pretty loud. I hope they didn't hear anything else. I look down at the bench I'm straddling and pick at the metal.

"Why is the sky blue?" Jerry asks. "I've always wondered that. Why couldn't it be like, green or something?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Milton says, smiling. "The sky gets it blue color from—"

I tune out of the conversation then, not really caring for a ten minute long lesson on the color of the sky. I start to drown in my thoughts again. Why do some people revel so much in hurting others? I know that some people were bullied as kids and it's their way of getting revenge, but… why? You know how it feels. You know how much it hurt. So why would you wish that on someone else? I don't understand.

"Kim?"

Again, my brooding is interrupted. I look up at a concerned face, but then I look away. God, what is wrong with him?! Why do his eyes have to be so… alluring? I think I'm growing an immunity to them, though. I can actually make eye contact for a couple of seconds now, without getting drawn in too much.

It should be illegal to have eyes like that.

"Yeah?" I respond, while still thinking about the legality of his eyes but not looking up at them

"Kim, look at me."

I do so, reluctantly, but focus on an eyebrow.

"What's wrong? You're a really bad liar you know," he responds. He briefly smirks before his expression turns serious.

"If I'm such a bad liar, then why did the guys believe me?" I ask, before mentally kicking myself. I think I just confirmed that I was lying.

"So you admit that you were lying?"

"I admit nothing."

He frowns, mirroring the way I'm sitting down and straddling the bench as well. My breath hitches in my throat as he grabs my hand. "Kim…" I stare at the two hands enveloping my one.

He catches my reaction and quickly lets go of me, face burning and looking sheepish. I immediately feel the absence of the warmth of his hands.

"Sorry. Look, Kim. You've been… off, for a couple of months now. I mean like…" He struggles to find the words. "I don't know, sad? What's going on?"

"Nothing, Jack. I don't know what you're talking about." I don't know how to feel about this. I honestly think I'm panicking. No one has ever known me well enough to be able to tell when I'm acting weird.

Except maybe Brody.

My mood sours even further at the thought of him. The door in my heart that might have been opening to Jack immediately slams shut, locks, and then padlocks itself. I'm not letting anyone in anytime soon.

'But you said you'd 'start over. This doesn't look like 'starting over'.'

'You finally decide to join me again?'

'Only briefly.'

"Are you sure—"

"Just leave me alone, Jack."

His mouth purses, and I can tell he feels hurt. "I… ok."

'SAY SOMETHING! Meanwhile, I can work on picking that stupid metaphorical lock of yours… '

I feel guilty. The padlock on the door to my heart falls to the ground at the sight of him. I think of that day, back in my clearing, after Jack had appeared; of the look of raw emotion on his face, and the way he was talking about himself. I think he's just as lonely as I am, even if he seems like a really nice and outgoing person. Anyone can put up a front to hide their pain; why should Jack be any different?

And… wait, what did Happy say? Ugh, stupid emotion influencing my way of thinking.

He gets up to walk away.

"Wait."

He stops and turns back to me. "What? Don't you want me to leave you alone?" He doesn't sound exactly bitter, as i thought he would, just… sad.

I hesitate. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just…"

"I get it if you don't want to tell me." He smiles softly. "Just know that I'm here for ya, ok?"

I… wait, am I smiling back? "Ok."

He walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

'I'm surprised I haven't heard from Gloomy yet.'

'Oh. Her. Yeah, I took care of her.'

'… '

I hear their laughter fade as they drive off in their cars, leaving me bruised and battered against the side of some random building.

I curl up into a ball and start sobbing.

Fucking Black Dragons.

Every single one of them was here to gang up on me.

I'm hurting so much.

And it's cold out.

It's so freaking cold.

I can't feel anything, and I can feel everything.

All at the same time.

Someone's calling my name.

I start to panic.

Is it them?

It can't be them.

Do they want to kill me?

I can just hear them now.

Taunting.

Laughing.

Hurting.

Someone touches my arm, my hand.

I scream and cry and fight and beg.

They grab my arms and I scream louder.

Then everything starts to go black, and I'm still begging.

Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorrysorrysorrysorrysorry

The Latino swears as the injured blonde girl goes limp in his arms. He has no idea what to do to help her. Should he try to wake her? Should he let her stay unconscious?

Jerry wishes that Milton had found Kim instead of himself. The redhead would definitely know exactly what to do.

He was just out taking a short walk to some place that really wasn't that important when he heard a girl sobbing. Being the guy that he is, he went to investigate and found Kim. The normally quiet blonde was crying her heart out. He had called her name and touched her arm, and she had freaked out. He had barely dodged her flying fists. He had gently restrained her and she screamed louder, babbling out an apology over and over again. It makes him wonder exactly what happened to her.

The teen gently cradled the other and adjusted her so that he was leaning against his chest. He took in her appearance; torn clothes, a bleeding and bruised figure, and her fair hair was now dirty and streaked with blood. 'Who did this to her?' he thinks.

'Who would want to hurt Kim?'

Jerry has to admit, the girl could be a little off-putting at times. The glares she directed his way whenever he hit on her was enough to make him wanna pee himself. He thinks he did at one point. But other times, when she wasn't glaring at him, Kim was actually a pretty cool chick. She could be friendly when she wanted to, has a funny habit of yelling out exclamations about dynamite whenever she got excited about something, and could kick anyone's butt. Anyone, except maybe Jack.

Jack. Jerry supposes he should call the teen. The shaggy haired brunet seems to care a lot about the blonde. And even though Jerry is't normally very observant of things that don't concern him, he can clearly see the chemistry between them. He can also see that Kim doesn't want to face her feelings towards Jack. He has a feeling that she was going to slip up at some point. Or maybe it would be Jack. It was just a matter of time.

Jerry should probably call now.

Jack was there within ten minutes. By the time he got there, Jerry had also called 911 and Rudy. Both were on their way.

The teen's heart stops when he turns around the corner and sees the blonde in his Latino friend's arms. He didn't want to believe what he was hearing when Jerry called him. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jerry was making the situation sound worse than it was; that Kim was fine, with only the most minor of injuries. But oh, how wrong he was. He slowly approaches the two.

"What… happened?" he whispers, kneeling down next to the two. He gently moves a stray lock of blood-streaked hair out of Kim's angelic face.

"I don't know," Jerry responds lowly. "I found her crying. She freaked out when I tried to calm her down and then she passed out."

Jack falls silent, simply staring. She looks so… tortured. Even in unconsciousness. Aren't you supposed to be at peace when you're unconscious? Because you're not dreaming, or having a nightmare. Everything is just… dark. He would know. But then again, who wouldn't be tortured after going through whatever she had gone through? He grabs the girl's left hand, frowning when he notices that it's wet.

Blood.

His eyes widen, and beside him he hears Jerry's breath escape with a whoosh. Jack gingerly holds the limb and examines it. Two letters are carved into the soft flesh of the back of her hand: BD. Black Dragons.

Jack's expression darkens. He knows about the dojo that Kim used to attend; she had told him about it. They're good at karate, but really annoying, especially their sensei Ty. He and Rudy had some sort of bad blood going on between them for some reason. The Black Dragons always willing to give the Wasabi Warriors are hard time. But he had no idea that they were capable of… of… this.

He'll tear them apart with his bare hands. How dare they even think about hurting his precious Kim, let alone actually going through with it?! He's going to hunt down every single one of them and—

"Jack… I think you might be hurting her…"

Jerry's words make the teen stop short. He realizes that he's holding the girl's wrist in a vice-like grip that would have made her wince if she was conscious. He loosens his hold, mentally apologizing.

"The Black Dragons did this," he snarls quietly as the wailing sound of an ambulance siren is faintly heard in the distance.

"What?!" Jerry exclaims, before growling. "How do you know? As much as I hate to say it, she could have just been randomly attacked."

Jack shows his friend the letters on the blonde's hand. "Plus, she's a black belt in karate. She would have been able to scare off some random attacker. The Black Dragons… they know her."

Jerry stares at his friend as the brunet gently strokes Kim's hair. He could definitely see the more-than-friends affection that's being expressed in the gesture. With a resolute nod to himself, he gently hands her off to Jack. The teen looks at him, confused.

"I wanna go flag down the ambulance," the Latino explains, standing up. "And if she wakes up, I'd rather it be you than me that she sees first thing."

Jerry walks off around the corner and towards the mouth of the alleyway before Jack can say anything. The shaggy-haired teen stares off after his friend for a second, before shifting so that he's leaning against the wall and Kim's head is resting against his collarbone.

He's never going to let this happen ever again. He'll watch over Kim and be her guardian. He can't let someone else he (possibly?) loves get hurt because of him. His father is the perfect example. If he hadn't had a fight with the man over something as trivial as taking out the trash, then his dad wouldn't have gone for a drive to cool his head, then he wouldn't have gotten hit by a drunk driver and died. It's all Jack's fault that his father is dead. He's not going to let the same thing happen to Kim.

He'll crush the Black Dragons.

A quiet whimper brings him out of his reverie, and two hands weakly push against his chest.

"Don't… please…"

"Kim? Kim, it's me. It's Jack. I'm not going to hurt you."

Even with the comforting words, the girl wriggles out of his grasp and backs away while wincing from her injuries. The fear in her eyes unsettles Jack, and he hopes that he can convince her that he means her no harm.

"I'm sorry…" she responds, tears coming to her glazed eyes. The impulse to wipe them away overwhelms the brunet. "I know I'm worthless without ya'll… just please leave me alone…" She doesn't seem to realize that it's him.

"…You're not worthless, Kim," Jack says softly, taking a moment to compose himself before replying. For a second there he saw red. How dare they tell Kim that she's worthless?! He slowly approaches her. She backs into the wall behind her. She whimpers when she realizes she doesn't have an escape, bringing her legs close to her body and hiding her face in her arms.

Jack reaches her side. She winces as his hand makes contact, but all he does is gently move her arm away and cup her cheek and wipe her tears away with the pad of his thumb. The one eye that Jack can see widens at the soft gesture. Encouraged by the fact that she's no longer recoiling from him, he moves her other arm and does the same to her opposite cheek. He kisses her forehead as she lifts her head. Her eyes widen and clear.

"…J-Jack?" she finally whispers.

"Yeah," he responds. "Yeah, it's me."

She makes another questioning sound, still seeming fearful. He gently presses his lips to her forehead again. "It's all right, Kimmy. I'm not going to let them hurt you again."

She leans into him and sobs, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. He holds her close to him and lets her cry into his chest, looking up as Jerry and a couple of paramedics with a stretcher come around the corner.

Over the course of the next week, every single one of the twenty members of the Black Dragons dojo (including the sensei) ended up in the hospital with various injuries. They all reported that they "fell down the stairs," and seemed very shaken.

The sensei had also paid the hospital bill of a certain blonde teenage girl that had been admitted the week before.

"Hey, Kim, I thought I would wai— What's wrong?"

Crap. Jack had been waiting for me outside of the locker rooms. I didn't have enough time to wipe the tears off my face. He had kept a lot closer to me since… the alley… a couple of weeks ago, but I think it has to do with the "not letting them hurt you anymore" thing, which is weird because he seemed to be making some sort of commitment to protect me… but why? I'm not worth it.

"You're crying," he says softly. As if I didn't know that. He steps closer and I look down at the ground. I never realized how interesting my feet are…

"What's that in your hand?"

Too late, I realize that I'm holding my latest note. It's something about how no one will care when I die. The Black Dragons had left me alone for a long while after the alley, but that didn't stop the other students that still worship them from hiding the incriminating notes within my belongings.

Strangely enough, all of the Black Dragons had apparently fallen down this really long flight of stairs and ended up in the hospital as well. Speaking of the hospital, I don't understand why Jack and Jerry called the ambulance. I mean, yeah, it was nice, but so what? If I died or something, it's not like anyone would have cared. Not even my dad. He's really possessive over things; he probably just doesn't want to let go of me, because I "belong" to him, and that's why he's fighting for custody over me. If I died, he'd probably just be happy that my mom can't have me.

The Black Dragons' attack helped me realize some things.

"Nothing," I finally say, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.

I can feel him raise a disbelieving eyebrow. "Really? Then you wouldn't mind if I take a look at it?"

I hear the sound of paper crinkling, and I suddenly realize that he had gotten the paper out of my grasp somehow without me noticing. What the heck?! We can just add "taking notes without the person noticing" to his list of superhuman qualities/abilities. His eyes are number one on that list, by the way.

"That's kinda rude, you know," I mumble under my breath. He doesn't hear me.

"Kim… who wrote this?!" he asks angrily. I look at him sadly. He's already believing what it says. He's probably mad at himself for not realizing it sooner.

Why am I not surprised? I've finally grown attached to the guy and that's when he decides to realize exactly what I am. Just great. But that's just how it is with me isn't it? Something will worm its way into my heart, and then rip a piece out when it finally leaves. Jack owns the rest of my heart, as much as I fought to keep that from happening. And now I've lost him, too…

"Does it really matter who wrote it when it's true?" I ask softly, furiously wiping the rapidly growing moisture off of my face; I'm so pathetic. I sigh, looking down at my feet again. I don't want to see the disgust in his eyes, directed at me. "Look, thanks for being nice to me, Jack, but you can quit the act. You and I both know I'm not worth a crap so—"

It takes me completely by surprise when he kisses me. One moment I'm rambling, and the next he's gently tilting my chin up and capturing my lips with his. He cups my cheeks and slides his hands under the long curtain of my hair, and I'm too shocked to even wince at the fact that he was touching a spot on my cheek that's still sore.

And then suddenly, just as abruptly as it started, it ends. He moves away, but is still close enough that our foreheads are touching and that his warm breath fans over my lips as he speaks.

"Don't ever talk about yourself that way ever again, Kimmy," he says in a voice so dark that it kind of scares me a little bit.

Wait… rewind…

HOLY CRAP. HE JUST KISSED ME.

My mind goes blank save for that one thought. He just. Freaking. Kissed me.

What am I supposed to think about that? You normally kiss someone when you like them but how can he possibly like me? WHAT THE FRIGGIN FRICK. It doesn't make sense. Is he being cruel? Because that's just wrong. He must know that I may or may not have the teensiest of crushes on him and is making fun of me. That is so not cool.

Then again, Brody was the exact same way.

But you could also kiss someone to shut them up. Again, that kinda goes along with actually liking the person because you're not going to kiss the annoying girl that sits next to you in third period just to shut her up. Because that's weird. And she might take it the wrong way. Screaming at her does the job nicely.

So… what do I conclude from this?

I have no freaking idea.

"…im. Ki-im. Please answer me? Kiiiiiim. Kimmy? Kit-Kat."

I realize that he'd released my face and is now trying to get my attention. His hand is rapidly waving back and forth in front of my eyes. Huh. I wonder how long that's been going on.

"…you just…"

He puts his hand down and smiles briefly. "You're okay!" Than he backs away a little bit, looking sheepish and running a hand through his hair. "Oh. Yeah…"

If this isn't THE most cringe-worthy awkward moment in the history of my life, then I don't know what is.

"Why?"

He hesitates, then steps forward again. "Because… I really like you?"

This does not compute.

"What? How can you…"

"I don't know… This is the part where I come up with a really big speech and profess my love for you, but I honestly I have no idea. How do you explain why you love someone?"

"… you're either nuts or cruel. How can you—"

"WOULD YOU STOP QUESTIONING HIS INTEGRITY AND KISS THE GUY ALREADY?!"

Jack and I whirl around to see Rudy, Jerry, and Eddie all clamping their hands over Milton's mouth.

"What the—" Jack starts to say.

"Oh, don't worry about us," Rudy says dismissively. "Just continue? This is better than The Notebook."

Rudy thought a normal human's face couldn't get redder than the redness of a stop sign, a tomato, and a fire truck combined, let alone the two teenagers standing in front of him

He was wrong.

So. I'm back to avoiding Jack again, just like the day after we met months ago.

I've actually been pretty successful. Well, as successful as you can get to avoiding a guy who has all but two of your classes with you. I just make sure to a) get in class as late as possible without actually being late, b) leave class right as the bell is ringing, c) hide in my nook whenever I'm at the clearing, and d) hide out in the girl's locker room at the dojo until it's safe to come out.

And though I haven't actually interacted with Jack for about a week now, my brain has been practically invaded by thoughts of him.

Twenty-four seven.

I'm in some sort of unavoidable standstill; I'm keeping away from him so I don't get hurt, but I think I'll get hurt anyways by keeping away from him.

It all comes down to fear.

'Ok. So let's make a list of why you should and shouldn't let Jack in.'

'No, that… actually, that's not a bad idea.'

My end product was the following:

Should
-He defended you from Lindsay
-He's immune to Lindsay (?)
-He followed you into the clearing
-He chastised himself for "losing his chance" with you
-He held you in the alleyway
-He could go for so much better
-He's into karate
-It's possible to avoid him
-He cares (?)
-He stopped you from telling the truth about yourself because he thinks it isn't true (?)
-He kissed you (Though it might have been an early emergency CPR because if you kept talking you probably would have run out of breath and died)
-His eyes are legal
-SINCERITY?
-You think you love him

Shouldn't
-He followed you into the clearing
-Might be half-canine
-He has superhuman abilities (does that tie in with "half-canine"?)
-You don't want to drag him down (?)
-He doesn't care and everything is an act (?)
-He supposedly cares (?)
-It's possible to avoid him
-He kissed you
-He doesn't want to hear the truth about you so he stopped you from talking about yourself (?)
-He might end up like Brody
-His eyes should be illegal
-SINCERITY?
-You think you love him

I look down at my work with a critical eye. On some points Happy took over (clearly) and others deserved to be on both lists…

Should has one more than Shouldn't. What does that mean? It's not that big of a difference. They almost each have the exact same number. So what do I do?

UGH. This didn't solve anything. Or did it? I DON'T FREAKING KNOW.

'Well… Should did win…'

'Barely.'

'So… you should give him a chance. Talk to him. You never know.'

'I never knew with Brody, either.'

'…'

After MUCH mental debate, I decided not to talk to Jack.

'Noooo, you didn't.'

'Meh.'

'JUST DO IT! GROW SOME LADY BALLS!'

'…'

'Okay, never saying that again. Now, he's outside of the locker rooms. You can hear him talking to the guys. GO!'

'No!'

'Fine, I'll make you.'

My feet start moving of their own accord, towards the door leading out of the girls' locker room. Wait, what?! I'm not doing this!

'Yes, you are. I'm part of YOU, remember?'

'Sadly.'

Left, right, left, right, push door open, left, right, left, right.

There. Jack is right there. I don't wanna do this. Should I do this? What is 'this' anyway? I'm just talking to him about… where we stand.

'I'll tell you where he's standing. RIGHT THERE!'

He's standing riiiiiiiiiight over there. All I have to do is just mosey on over there and… who still says mosey? Apparently I do.

Ok, I'm backing out.

Before I can, he turns around. It's like he sensed that I was there. The expression on his face changed from a small smile to a hopeful puppy dog look and GOD HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO THAT?!

"Jack, can we… talk?"

"Yes!" he says eagerly, before seeming to check himself. He relaxes from his overeager position, crossing his arms and giving me a nod. "I mean… sure." I roll my eyes. Guys. He starts to walk over, and the guys and Rudy follow.

"ALONE," I specify, glaring at the three teens and grown man. Or should I say three teens and manchild/the most hyperactive person I know/sensei/possibly in need of rehab person/?.

They make dejected noises and go back to doing whatever.

Jack and I walk into the hallway leading to the locker rooms. Remembering our "audience" from last time we stood in this spot, I grab his wrist and drag him into the girls' locker room. I walk around him and close (and lock) the door behind him.

When I turn to him, he's looking around with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. With a raised eyebrow, I briefly compare him to the painting The Scream.

"What are you looking at?"

"It's so… clean in here!"

At the same time, he and I notice one of my bras carelessly thrown over a bench. I start to walk over to pick it up, cheeks burning, but then I think 'What's the point? It's a bra. I'm a girl. Get over it.'

Of course Happy, mortified, commands me to go and pick it up. I do so and open my locker and notice the piece of paper lying on top of the random stuff within the small storage unit.

I ignore it and slam the locker shut.

I turn and find him fidgeting, with his hands, head bent and hair covering his expression. I clear my throat awkwardly. His head snaps up to look at me, and he does a weird little head shake to get his hair out of his eyes.

"Jack—"

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out," he blurts. I blink, and he barrels on, as if someone had broken down a dam and the flow of words were just pouring out. "I shouldn't have just kissed you out of nowhere like that but—"

"Jack—"

"—I dunno, I really like you Kim. I think I have ever since you threw that branch at me and even if that sounds really cliche—"

"Jack—"

"—it's the truth and I'm just asking you to please give me a chance—"

'I would if you let me talk,' I think, finally just resorting clamping my hand over his mouth after three more unsuccessful attempts to shut him up. He looks at me with those scared puppy dog eyes and I may or may not have to stop myself from cooing.

"Jack."

"Mmm?"

"Shut up."

I remove my hand from his mouth. His expression turns into that of a kicked puppy.

'If you two ever have kids and they inherit that look, you're so screwed.'

Mortified, I envision myself throwing shoving the voice into an episode of "Happy Tree Friends" and turn my back when it starts screaming.

"Jack…" I take a deep breath. "Ok. You have your chance."

"What?"

"Right now. Woo me." I internally wince as soon as the sentence comes out of my mouth. "Convince me that I should let you in. Because honestly, you are the most infuriatingly perplexing person in my life, and I can't tell what your intentions are."

He pauses for a moment (probably puzzling over the word "perplexing") before reaching and grabbing my left hand; the scarred one. My heart jumps into my throat as I remember the night I got it, a week ago; their words come back with a rush, over lapping with each over within my head. My body aches from the ghosts of kicks and punches, and my bottom lip starts to tremble a little bit from the threat of oncoming tears.

"There," Jack says softly, causing me to focus on him again. He stares into my eyes, and I have a feeling that I wouldn't be able to look away even if I tried. Which I don't. "That place you're going to in your head right now? I'm going to protect you from that. I'm not going to let them bar you from happiness ever again. That's my intention. Your happiness. Even if, after all this, we're just friends."

Happiness. It's such a foreign concept to me, even with the annoying voice in my head of the emotion's namesake. I guess I feel happy whenever I'm drawing, or listening to my favorite music… but that's really more contentment than it is happiness.

I look at him. Like, really look at him. What do I see? Honesty? Deceit? I still have no idea. This isn't some weird romance story where the characters can see thousands of emotions that seem to be hidden in other characters' retinas. This is real life. But… I think I'm willing to find out.

With a sigh, my resolve breaks. I step forward and lean into him, resting my forehead on his chest. He brings his arms up and envelopes me in a firm hug, kissing my hair before putting his chin on my head.

Maybe… maybe this whole thing won't be so bad.

"Hey, shouldn't we be going to the dojo?" I ask Jack, noticing he's driven past the mall where the dojo is. It's the summer before junior year, (yep. That's right. I survived. Just two more years to go. Ugh.) and Jack and I are… ok. I really don't know if we're "together." We could pass off as really close best friends as well.

I haven't even seen any sign of Lindsey and the other Black Dragons all summer. I have a sneaking suspicion that Jack has something to do with that.

"Oh… um…" He purses his lips, thinking.

Is he trying to give me an excuse?

"Rudy's toilet is remodeling. Wait, no, that came out wrong. Rudy's remodeling his toilet. Urg, that sounds even weirder…"

I think that's my answer. "Are you trying to blow off practice?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Whaaaaat?" he asks, his voice comically rising to a tone that no guy's voice should ever really reach. "No. We just…"

"We're blowing off practice," I deadpan. "Why?"

"We're not blowing it off, just… wind-ing it to another time."

"Wind-ing? Like, in blowing wind?" I am going to get to the bottom of this. He's keeping something from me.

"Yeah."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"If wind-ing doesn't make sense, then how does blowing make sense?"

"That makes sense because— Don't change the subject!"

"I didn't."

"Yes you did! Jack, just tell me why we're not going to the dojo."

He frowns, then smiles again as if he can't keep the somber expression on his face for long. "It's a secret."

I stare at him. "… a secret."

"Yeah."

"Mind telling me this secret?"

"If I tell you, then what's the point of it being a secret? Secrets are supposed to stay secret to be secret."

"But secrets are meant to be told eventually."

"In this case, yes… look, don't turn me into the worst distraction ever, okay? I'm supposed to keep you away from the dojo while certain arrangements are being made."

"Distraction."

"Yes. That is my role at the moment."

I huff in annoyance, and the sudden wind briefly blows my bangs out of my eyes. Speaking of bangs, I really need to get them cut or something…

Jack's phone blares out the opening lines of "I Like to Move It," from within the depths of his hoodie, signaling a text. My only guess is that it's from Jerry, because I can't imagine who else he would reserve that song for. Before he can move to retrieve the device, I reach into his pocket and grab the phone.

"Don't text and drive, Jack," I say when he starts to protest, smirking and looking at his phone. I catch "DancingMonkey: We're ready," at the top of the screen on the status bar before it disappears, but then my smirk falters.

His lock screen is a picture of me.

We were at the clearing ("our" clearing, as he now likes to call it), judging from the background. I was sitting and leaning against a tree, with my sketchpad on my lap and mechanical pencil in hand. The white cord of one of my earbuds can be seen snaking its way up my side and up to my ear. I had clearly been drawing, but I guess I decided to take a break or something because I had leaned my head against the tree behind me with my eyes closed and a small smile on my face. The sun wasn't in the picture, but sunlight had found its way through the leaves of the tree above me and shone in tiny little spots on my face. I actually looked… peaceful.

"I… you weren't supposed to see that," he says sheepishly, snatching the phone from my hand. I look over at him.

"Your lock screen… when did you take that?" I ask softly.

"…before school ended," he responds.

I guess I should be flattered. Out of all the things he could have had there, he chose me as his lock screen.

Me.

I feel my face heat up. I bend my head and fidget with my fingers, intentionally letting my hair fall to cover my expression. "He says they're ready," I mumble.

"'Kay," he says, and he pulls into a gas station to turn around.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jack says, hurrying to catch up with me as I walk into the mall. We've gotten past the awkward moment in the car, and we're at the mall (clearly). I'm still not sure what to think about his lock screen, but… meh. I dunno.

I pause and turn around, noticing the strip of black fabric that he'd taken out of his pocket. I take a half-wary step back. "What's that for?"

"It's a blindfold," he responds.

I stare at him.

He laughs. "What, you don't trust me?"

"No," I deadpan. The last time I'd let the guys blindfold me, I ended up walking into a fountain at a nearby park. And I was wearing a white t-shirt. With only my bra underneath. I'm not sure what was more shocking, the cold water or hearing Jack threaten to beat up a nearby guy who had wolf-whistled at me. Either way, I've been wary around them and "surprises" ever since.

"Sorry about that…" he says, clearly sensing where my mind is going. "But you're not going to walk into anything this time, I promise."

"…"

"Come on. It's me we're talking about. Jerry was the one that was guiding you last time."

"True…" I murmur. He steps forward, holding up the blindfold hopefully. I sigh and turn around, immediately tensing as soon as the world goes dark. I try to squint to see through the fabric, but whatever it is is extremely thick. I decide to close my eyes, because having them open and not seeing anything is a bit unnerving.

"You see anything?"

"Nope. Sadly."

"Good. Okay, I'm gonna grab your hand to guide you to the dojo, okay?"

"…okay," I say, fighting a blush as his warm hand envelopes mine.

We walk for a little bit, taking the path (that I know by heart) to the dojo. He briefly lets go of my hand to open the door, and then pulls me in.

"Okay… you can take off the blindfold now."

I gratefully remove the black fabric from my eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIM!"

I blink in surprise as multiple confetti cannons go off. The whole dojo is decked out in various shades of turquoise, my favorite color, from streamers to banners to all sorts of party decorations. There are bubbles everywhere, suggesting that there's a bubble machine in some hidden corner. In the middle of the mats is a table sporting a huge cake (that must have been a pain to get through the doors). Sitting next to it on the table is a silver and turquoise colored tiara. Standing around the table are the guys, Rudy, Joan, Phil, and a girl named Sloane that the guys and I met earlier in the summer. In the corner where the dummies and bo staffs normally are is a pile of presents.

What?

"I don't understand…" I whisper, struggling to take it all in. A birthday party? It's not even my birthday… is it? I really don't keep track anymore, since I haven't celebrated it since I was like, nine. What's there to celebrate about another year of my life?

"What's there to understand?" Jack asks, grinning as he stands next to me. "It's August 7th. Your birthday." He pauses, then adds "Well, your birthday was two days ago. This is just the party." He frowns. "Why didn't you tell us? We never would have known if Rudy wasn't digging through his files yesterday."

"I forgot… never really thought it mattered…" I say, as Jerry walks up to me with the tiara in his hands. 'Raise Your Glass' by P!nk starts playing from some unknown source, and Phil starts doing a weird dance that makes me fear he's having a seizure.

"Of course it matters, Kim. And you need to hurry and open your presents, because one of them is on his way, and the last one starts in about three hours…" He grins again as Jerry places the crown on my head.

I stare at him. Then I stare at all of the people in the room. I can't believe it. How could they go through all this trouble? I could have just had another quiet birthday, and everything still would have been fine. But no. They chose to do this.

They… care about me.

How do I feel about that? Someone cares. Multiple someones, actually. All that crap that they preached to us in elementary school about the "joys of friendship" and how wonderful it is? It's actually true. I have this stupid, warm feeling inside and it's overwhelming. I can't…

"Aw, Kim, don't cry," Jerry says softly. The tone of his voice is comparable to that of a five-year-old near tears. "We thought you'd like it. Is it really that bad?"

"No, you dork," I respond, smiling and lightly punching him in the shoulder as the others come forward. I look at all of them, not even trying to fight the smile that's trying to take over my features. "It's amazing. No one has ever done something like this for me before… thank you guys. So much."

"Aww!" Joan coos. "GROUP HUG!"

I laugh as they surge forward and smother me in a giant hug.

This is so awesome. These people, they love me. They accept me, freak and all. And it's an awesome feeling.

The next thirty minutes are composed of lots of laughter, music, opening presents, and random confetti explosions (the latter is because of Rudy, by the way). Everything is so distracting and in the moment and awesome that I barely notice when he comes in.

I was opening a present from Milton; a book, from the looks of it. I just look up for a second. A split second. And I saw him. He had walked into the dojo and was looking around, hopefully for me.

I can't believe it.

"Daddy?" I whisper, dropping the book and standing up slowly. His eyes land on me in that exact moment, as if he had heard the whispered call. He grins and steps forward, holding his arms out.

I run into them and start sobbing.

"Kimster," he murmurs, kissing my hair and hugging me to him tightly. "God, I missed you so much."

One one hand, I want to scream at him for not even trying to talk to me. On the other hand, I just want to hold onto him and never let go. I decide to do both.

"Why didn't you call me?!" I scream into his shirt. "Or email me! Or text me! Something."

"Your did everything she could to keep me from contacting you," he says into my hair, his voice sounding tight. "And she succeeded. God, I tried so hard to at least talk to you… and I couldn't. She wouldn't let me."

Whatever. I don't even care. Him being here is enough. I never thought I'd be able to see him again, and I'd have to deal with my mom forever. Now, knowing that he did try, everything's all right. For now. He's here. He's here. My dad is here with me.

Later, after I've calmed down a bit, Jack, the guys, and Rudy are partaking in a silly improptu 5-way sparring match that has thrown the rules of martial arts out the window. I'm sitting on a bench next to Daddy, with the others surrounding us.

"Daddy?" I ask, stifling a laugh as Rudy flips Milton only to get kicked in the butt (literally) by Eddie.

"Hmm?" he responds, looking down at me.

"How did you get here?" The question's been on my mind for a while now. I can't see how he would have know that I'm in Seaford.

"Your friend Jack figured out a way to contact me, and told me his plans and stuff for this whole thing."

I blink in surprise, looking at the teen in question as Jerry whips out a can of silly string out of nowhere and spraying him with it. How did he do that? And what did Daddy mean by "his plans"?

"His plans?"

"Yeah. He sounded so excited over the phone when he was telling me about it." Daddy smirks, ruffling my hair affectionately. "I approve."

I feel my cheeks burn. "Wh-what?" He approves? Of what? Well, I think I know what…

"He's a good kid, Kimster. He really cares about you."

There it is. I fall silent, looking back at Jack. We make eye contact for a split second, before he gets football-tackled by Milton. He really is special. It's just that whole trust thing that I'm having trouble with.

"Yeah," I say softly. "I know. It's just… I've had trouble letting him get close."

"Ernest Hemingway," he says sagely. "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

I frown. Him and his quotes. He always does that when he feels the situation requires it. I suppose I needed the advice. I had never really thought about it like that before.

"THE CONCERT!" someone suddenly yells. Concert? What concert? Everyone suddenly starts bustling around, doing… whatever.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" my dad exclaims, standing up. He glances at his watch and mutters a curse.

"What concert?" I ask.

"The one that's going to start in 20 minutes," Jerry says, popping up by my side before speeding off to some unknown destination.

Well, that was an answer.

"It's a Fall Out Boy concert," Jack says, grabbing my wrist and gently tugging me towards the door. He looks back at me when I stop dead, chuckling when he sees my gaping mouth.

"Fall Out Boy?!" I squeak, barely able to get the words out.

"Yeah," he responds, tugging my wrist again. I follow him, dazed. FALL OUT BOY?! As in, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley?! As in, the band that I had previously thought I would never see in person?! That Fall Out Boy?!

"Yes, that Fall Out Boy," I hear Jack's voice say in an amused tone as he drags me to an old pickup truck that I vaguely recognize as my dad's. I wonder when I started speaking aloud.

"How did you know I liked them?" I ask. I don't exactly let him touch my music, and I don't sing aloud when he's around (I don't think), so how could he possibly know about my all time favorite band?

He looks sheepish, and I await his answer curiously. "…your shirt."

I glance down at my black and grey striped sweater, before looking back up at him and raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No… from when we first met."

I blink, thinking back to that September day from last year. Was that what I was wearing? It's very possible, considering the fact that I have five or six Fall Out Boy clothing pieces of some sort, but I can't remember.

But he can.

"You never cease to surprise me, Jack," I murmur with a small smile that I can't help. He grins as well, and we climb into the car.

Screw this. I'm done. I'm just gonna end it right there. After slaving over this stupid oneshot for months now, it's done. To a point. My brain seems to turn the word "oneshot" into "mini-fic that really should be more than one chapter."

Ugh. I have a list of what I wanna say on this chapter saved away somewhere… and I have no idea where. Whatever.

Oh. I bet if 'Old Habits Die Hard' were a plant, it would be nearly dead by now. I'm so sorry to you guys that are looking forward to that! I thought I could finish this in a week and then go back to OHDH. Fate decided not. Like seriously. Who's ever heard of a 14 thousand word oneshot? If you guys can find one, please tell me.

WASABI FOREVER! OMFGDOSINETROPEQHNFMD:SNF

All mistakes made are my own. I am too lazy to go back and look over this. Ok… there's nothing else that I can think of off the top of my head, so... bye!

~BP

EB: Dang, you should make this into a multiple chapter Kick story. It really is amazing.
Thanks. :) I have a story that I'm thinking about writing that has this same basic concept, except the guy are in a band and Kim has a dead twin sister.

EB: This is amazing. I'm at a loss for words. You really outdid yourself on this one. It's beautiful.
Thanks, again. :D

Anialoveskick: Awww this so cute an awesome I love it
Thank you! :)

JasmineLief: Oh dear god. So I'm probably going to end up leaving multiple reviews in a row for this starting tomorrow but. WOW. This was just... I'm speechless. Very, very nice job on this fic, it totally blows my #ProjectBeatutiful out of the water. (Or should I say winds?)
Thanks! :)

MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul: Very different from the show. But good job of it. So far everyone was in character...in this AU. Though I'm not much into Kickin' It -Leo's hair is waay too long- so I may not continue much farther. But any Kickin' It fan better glue their eyes to this story. And pat yourself on the back, author.
Thanks so much! :) *pats self on back*

Guest: Wow.
Wow, indeed.

Alex: Wow...this has to be the longest oneshot i've ever read...AND I LOVE LOOOONG ONESHOTS!
This was soooooo good! And please update even OHDH. Oh and i LOVED kim's thoughts about jack's eyes and 'superhuman abilities' hahaha
Like really? He must have had an eye surgery that allows him to hypnotize girls with invisible eye lasers? hahaha
You are defenitly my favourite writer ever!
Thanks! :) It was pretty long.

AnMaRo412: Oh my gosh this is like the best one shot ever! I seriously don't care how long it was, but it was truly amazing! I loved it! :O)
Thanks, a lot. :)

Pazific: Yes! Another one-shot! The long ones are the best! Can't wait to see a wider variety of your work. But no Flappy Bird, no no no no no... Okay, maybe one. Still hate the game. But thing one-shot was really good, it had the same main idea as many others but I turned out so different! Amazing! :)
Thanks! :)