Author's Note: Formerly known as Broken Pieces of an Erased Heart, this is a very old story from years ago. It's been discontinued but I'm leaving it up, marked as completed as it had a pretty decent following. My writing has grown very much since, so please don't let any grammatical errors or cliched storylines/dialogue deter you from checking out any other stories posted within recent years (2016+).
She sat with sheer boredom.
Tapping the number two pencil on the desk she was sitting in, she candidly attempted to pay attention. Though easily lapsing back into serene thoughts of her own, as she nipped her sparkly white teeth against her black painted nails. Laughing lightly to herself, she remembered the first time Peyton had persuaded, no forced her into letting her paint her nails the dark color that she had painted hers. She felt a piece of polish chip off into her mouth, and immediately dry spat whatever she coul
d out. Feeling eyes on her, she brushed a piece of golden brown hair behind her twice pierced ears, and turned her sea green like eyes to the front of the room.
The teacher eying her pointedly, asking her if she would like to share something with the class, caused her to shift uncomfortably in the already uncomfortable seat. Shaking her head confidently, she shrugged him off, hoping that he wouldn't call her out in front of the class like he had so many times before.
She remained tapping the slightly chewed end of the pencil to the desk, peering curiously out into the hall, waiting for her best friend who was now MIA. True, she had her other friends, and the red head she called her other best friend, but they all had assigned seats at different ends of the room, opposite her. She hated sitting in her least favorite class without a partner sitting along with her in the two partner desk.
Sighing loudly, she received the teacher's glare and again ignored it with a shrug. Lifting her knees a bit, to shelter the pink razr she brought out, she texted a message to Peyton.
Waiting a while, whilst peering above her phone and started at the teacher like she was paying attention. A few seconds passed, and she heard a faint sound that signaled a texting back. Gladly smirking to herself that she remembered to lower the volume, she read it in her mind with her lips moving.
Message
Hey B. Davis, I'm kinda running late today. My dad was home yesterday as u know, and I had some good news so we celebrated kinda late.
"Are you just talking to yourself or are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes Miss. Davis?" sharply asking her, Mr. Rountree snapped her out of her daze.
Hearing a few stifled and exposed laughs, she felt her cheeks heat up a bit, yet simply replying.
"Nothing, I'm just thinking out loud on the signs of schizophrenia. You should know the symptoms right?"
This time laughter that weren't bothered by muffling echoed through the room, and random comments were made back and forth between the teacher and the students.
This was a little thing the students had with Mr. Rountree. They would openly insult each other, and the students would wait to see if he would take it well or blow his top and sentence them to a two hour detention, which consisted of sitting on a chair, staring at the wall. Seriously, everyone had the inkling that he was bipolar.
"Well I guess we're in the same boat then, miss happy bubbles. No one could be that happy all the time." clearing talking it in a joking way, by the sound of his voice, playful.
Brooke smiled, and texted ttyl quickly and shut her phone quietly, while unzipping her bag and placing it back in carefully.
"Bubbles?" her perfectly waxed eyebrow that matched her hair perfectly arched up, as she smirked inwardly at the new nickname.
"It's because you're always so bubbly all the time." he broke it down for her, and said it in a way that showed he would always call her that.
Perfect. Another nickname to be called by. Though she couldn't hate it. It was that, she only had about fourteen hundred and nine.
Turning back to the dry erase board, Mr. Rountree started talking more about the lesson in their American Government class.
Ten minutes and two pages of notes later, the classes attention turned to the light knocking on the frame of the door. Looking up from her thorough notes, she smiled brightly when she saw the bouncy haired blonde hand Mr. Rountree a yellow paper slip.
"Why are you late?" he snapped completely playfully.
"I slept in late." answered Peyton confidently, with a large smile plastered upon her face.
Making her way to her desk, she dropped her black and white bag on the ground next to her chair and sat down while smoothing out her red and white plaid skirt.
"Nice job captain obvious, I just think that bubbles is rubbing off on you." he smirked, while turning back to the board as he sat down on the chair in front of it.
"Who the hell is bubbles?" furrowing her golden blonde eyebrows with a look of utter confusion on her face.
"First of all, watch your mouth, young lady," he ordered fatherly, and pointing a red marker in her face, though he was about five feet away from her. "Secondly," he said, looking around randomly, while shifting in his seat like Brooke and everyone had done so many times. "Bubbles is Brooke's new nickname."
Brooke smiled and shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hands saying, I don't know.
"Bubbles," trying it out. "I like it, it suits you well." Peyton nodded.
"I know." smirked Mr. Rountree, like he knew he was right, and liked it.
"I have too many damn nicknames." groaned a squirming Brooke.
"First of all, the word Peyton just said that is a synonym for heck, was strike one for you two. Secondly, that word you just said and don't you make me remind what that was bubbles," saying the last part sternly when she opened her mouth. "that is strike two for you two powerpuff girls, and if the third says any other swear word or H bomb, or any kind of negative crap, that's strike three." he looked at the red head in the back of the room.
Rachel lifted her head from her paper attentively. "You kind of just said crap." she had pointed out.
"Yeah well, I have authority and you don't," he laughed. "Deal with it carrot cake." her nickname, referring to the fact that she was a read head. "Besides, you just said crap and that was strike two point five, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
"Gee thanks." Rachel said.
Turning his back towards the students gave Brooke and Peyton a chance to talk.
"So P. Sawyer, tell me what is up with you?"
"Nothing's up Brooke."
"Oh come on please, you tried and failed to hide your secret. Well that and you said that you had good news."
"Okay, well I got an internship at Sassy magazine to be their illustrator."
"OMG!" she squealed a little too loudly.
"Strike two point seven!" their teacher threatened, not very intimidating from across the room.
Rolling her eyes, she tugged on Peyton's black streaked blonde curls and forced her to get back to paying attention to her.
Peyton groaned, trying to give an effort to pay attention. "Brooke, I'm really trying to pay attention here."
"Why?" she scoffed.
"Because that's what we are supposed to do." she whispered, while trying to keep her eyes focused forward.
Fixing her top to fit her perfectly, she stretched her upper body, turning to face Peyton as fully as she could, while still facing forward.
"So, when have we ever actually done what we were supposed to?" challenged a talkative Brooke.
"Whatever, Peyton, anyway. An internship? That's so friggin' awesome bestest friend. I'm so proud and happy for you."
"It's not that big of a deal." she insisted, though she was hiding her true feelings well.
"Hell yeah it is, this is something that you truly want, you got it."
"I didn't get it yet Brooke." complied an insistent Peyton, as she pulled a piece of folder paper from Brooke's binder.
"Hello? You're Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, you're as good as gold." patting her arm through the brown leather jacket.
Feeling something hit her on the back of her head, Brooke turned around and looked at her antsy best friend who could never wait for details. The brunette found herself sighing, and leaning over to pick up the crumpled piece of black paper and clicked her sharpie to write something in it. When she finished, she crumpled it back up and chucked it back to Rachel, luckily the same time Mr. Rountree turned around.
"Strike three! One hour detention."
"What? That's fucked up." immediately covering her mouth as the words spilled out.
"What?" he stated loudly as he got in her face, "That's two!" and had the rest of the class looking in her direction.
"That's really harsh you know." Peyton added.
"You want to join her?" he asked in a stern voice as he made his way over to Rachel and grabbed the piece of paper from her hands, before she could have a chance to read it.
Rolling her eyes, Brooke went back to taking notes, Peyton shut her mouth and had her eyes pasted to the board, and Rachel flipped her book to the right page.
Detention.
Detention for two hours was going to be absolutely fun.
Amazing.
When class was finished, they had four minutes to get to their next class, and Peyton walked up to Brooke from behind.
"Brooke," she whined. "why couldn't you wait until tomorrow to get detention?"
"Why?" she asked slowly.
"Because my car is out of commission due to a flat tire, and Rachel doesn't have a car."
"So you were hoping that I would give you a ride." Brooke said, more as a statement than anything else.
Peyton gave her best friend a shy smile, and replied, "Yes. And my interview starts at five which is just enough time to get there from school."
"Well how did you even get here?" they kept up with walking.
Peyton stopped at her locker, and fumbled with the lock to open when Mouth walked up to them. He slammed his hand against the locker next to hers to get it to open, when it popped open, she smiled graciously.
"Whoa, nice job Mouth the Mighty." hugging her books close to her tight black camisole, Brooke smirked wildly, and wickedly.
"Yeah, thanks mouth. You use those muscles." said Peyton, admiring him for helping her.
He laughed, "No problem, I've seen the bigger guys do it before, I thought it would work."
"Well that it did." the blonde agreed, watching him smile nervously, which he tended to do.
Gathering up her books with a precarious attitude, she put her other ones in, and closed it loosely.
The three of them had the next class together, and continued walking down the hallway together with linked arms.
"The things I do for you girls."
Both smiled, and tickled his sides so he started giggling with a low chuckle.
"Oh, come one Mouth, you know you love us. By the way, guess what? I'll tell ya, Peyton's-" she was cut off by Rachel who bounded up behind them as they all stood in the doorway of their Latin II class.
"Hi ho, and ho, and pimp." Rachel said, adding to their group on her very own.
They moved into the classroom slowly, and each took a random seat in a random place. Rachel sitting in the teacher's chair, as mouth sat on the desk, and Brooke and Peyton sat on the top of desks in the front of the class. This is how it always was, the flighty teacher always seemed to forget that time didn't wait for her, or that she even had a class to teach. Though that was fine for them, waiting in the classroom or the hallway just the four of them, talking. Not many kids signed up for this class, it wasn't mandatory, and even if it was, they'd easily choose another language. (this is how my spanish class was...fun fun fun!)
"So what were we talking about?" Rachel asked, as she leaned back in the black recliner and set her heel strapped feet on the desk near Mouth.
Peyton's stomach gurgled with a low growl, and she was sure every one else could hear it. "Anyone have any food? I'm hungry."
"Oh yeah, I-" jumping up as Rachel spoke, to look in her bag which was tossed to her right.
"Would everyone please stop cutting me off!" Brooke raised her hands while shoving a sandwich she found in her bag into Peyton's hands. "Here, now stuff your face and shut up."
"You're the one who just had to get detention on the most important day of my life." Peyton groaned out loud.
She said, opening the plastic wrapper covering the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and took a big bite hungrily.
Brooke opened her mouth with an excited expression, before Mouth interrupted her, again.
"Ooh, It's peanut butter jelly time, peanut butter jelly ti-"
The second Brooke shot him a deadly glare, he shut his mouth, as did Rachel and Peyton who had joined in.
"Don't even try to do that, you did that the last time I brought that to school." she warned, while pulling her skirt down to rest lower on her hips.
"Oh Brooke, come on." Peyton said.
"Peyton, would you just shut up so I can boast about you?"
"Boast." Mouth said, he made the face that looks like he's trying to act confused but knows exactly what's going on.
"Yeah, this from the girl who told her to shut up." Rachel mocked. Peyton swallowed, before she waited to join in.
"And stuff my face." she pointed out, as Rachel pointed to her in a silent way to say 'ah.'
"Just be quiet please."
Everyone held their hands up or nodded their heads to say that she could continue.
"Thank you," she grabbed the sandwich from Peyton's hands and took a bite herself. "Now," she said, while handing her back the sandwich without looking at her, and felt Peyton take it from her hands. While dusting off her hands for crumbs, she continued on. "missy blonde girl here has an important interview with Sassy magazine to be an intern."
Both Mouth and Rachel looked happy and surprised, neither of them thought that Peyton would actually send her sketches into Sassy magazine when she didn't even think she was good enough for Thud. Though they knew that she was awesome.
"Sweet, Rachel's so proud of you." she always loved talking about herself in the third person.
"Yeah Pey, so am I, that's awesome." Mouth said.
"Why thank you."
"I think this deserves a toast." he bounced off of the desk, and Mouth ran a hand through his hair as he made his way to the door.
"We don't have anything to toast to." Brooke pointed out.
Rachel leaned further back into the chair, trying her best to relax and added something, right after Peyton.
"That's okay Mouth."
Rachel said, "Plus, you don't want to be caught by someone. We're not allowed to use the machines or go to the cafeteria during classes." putting her hands behind her head to cradle it.
"Well what point is having a class with no teacher and so close?" a different Mouth appeared from their usual nervous and unsure friend.
"Whoa, since when has Mouth been the daredevil?" gaped a shocked looking Peyton.
"You go Mouthy boy, I've taught you well." Brooke smiled widely.
Hearing him laugh, they turned back to each other and went back to their conversation of congratulating Peyton.
Peyton said, "Thanks you guys, but I still have yet to be interviewed. Plus, I have to think about how to get there now."
"What about your car?" asked Rachel, who tried to help.
"Flat tire."
"Then how did you get to school?"
"Her daddy dropped her off." Brooke popped a piece of gum into her mouth.
"So you did pay attention." smiled Peyton.
"Of course I did, I always pay attention to you." Brooke said, smiling.
"Whatever you need to believe." rolling her eyes, Peyton ran her hands through her hair, to push it back to cascade down on one side of her head.
"Goldielocks is hostile that I can't give her a lift." Peyton rolled her eyes.
"Oh, that's right, you got yourself landed in detention." Rachel started, as she fumbled with the things in and on the desk she occupied herself at. "Hey, that reminds me, I'm going to need a ride home too."
Brooke waved her hands around, for no apparent reason, before adding, "You can either wait around for me for two hours or take the bus. Besides you two make it sound like I wanted detention." she said, as she chewed on another piece of gum.
Rachel shrugged, as Peyton leaned back so she was practically laying on the desk propping herself up with her elbows.
"Whatever, you can take the bus with me Peyton, keep me some company."
Brooke looked like a lost little girl, hoping that her best friends wouldn't just abandon her. Wouldn't someone wait with her?
"I can't, it's an hour drive. It'll take forever, I might as well just stay with Brooke and have a chance of getting their earlier." Peyton said.
Brooke smiled triumphantly and batted her long black lashes. At least Peyton is loyal.
"So basically you're screwed either way, you'll be late no matter what." Rachel pointed out. "Unless..." starting to drift off, the blonde looked at her as propped herself up even higher.
"Unless what?" asked a suddenly quieted Peyton.
"Unless bubbles lets us take her car and then she can take the bus." Rachel suggested slowly. Trying to see how she would take it.
"You have got to be kidding me, number one, you are not touching my car, either one of you, and two I am not taking the bus. They're full of creepy old dudes that sit right next to you and fall asleep on your shoulder when there's like every other seat open." she cringed.
"Well Peyton can pick you up." suggested the fiery haired young girl.
"Oh yeah that's so nice of you to offer to pick me up with my own car."
"You guys, it takes one hour to get there, the interview will probably last for an hour, and then an hour to get back. So Brooke will just have to wait an hour anyway. Look, I'll just call them and explain this or make up a more convincing story, and I'm sure they'll understand." Peyton said.
"No! You are not not going." Brooke's eyes looked up to the ceiling like she was trying to do math in her head.
"I didn't mean that." said Peyton, finishing off the sandwich. "Oh, you didn't want that did you?"
"No, no that's fine. It's not like I actually eat during lunch or anything."
"Sorry." piped Peyton, taking a shot, and threw the wrapping away in the trash can which was small and idle at the opposite side of the room.
Brooke put her hands up like she had always done when she wanted someone to go on no more and forget about it.
Brooke smiled. "Nice shot." the basketball player in her coming out with the compliment.
"I know." joked a confident Peyton.
"So you were saying." Brooke commented.
Sitting crossed legged on the front of the desk, Brooke put her and Peyton's books and bags in the seat so her weight wouldn't tip it over backwards. She learned her lesson the hard way last time, literally.
Peyton sighed, "I'll just ask them if they can push it back three hours."
"So we get there at eight?"
Rachel slapped a smug grin on her face, before correcting Brooke's math. "Seven, and you're the one in Calculus?"
"At least I do my homework." Brooke grinned cheekily, while twirling a pencil between her forefinger, and thumb idly.
Rolling her eyes, Rachel added, "Whatever. So Peyton's interview should last till eight, and then if you pick her up from Tree Hill you'll be there at nine and back at ten, or there at eight and back at nine if you stay in Wilmington for an hour."
"If I go back to Tree Hill then an hour will already be up, so then I have to go back as soon as I got there, so that just defeats the purpose and gas. I'll just stay in Wilmington, at night. That'll be fun, and not to mention safe. If I survive you better worship the ground I walk on from then on P. Sawyer." said a dreading Brooke. She could already feel the migraine coming on.
"You have my utmost gratitude." she did a curtsy.
Peyton pulled her hair into a ponytail and walked over to where Rachel was reclining, and rummaged through the drawers herself, to find a dry erase marker. She smiled brightly when she found a pink one.
"Well that's rare isn't it?" asked Rachel.
"Why doesn't Miss. DuPonte use this if she has it?" Peyton said.
"Who the hell understands that woman, she doesn't even understand her." said Brooke.
Brooke started playing with the broke hem of her skirt, and looked up at Rachel who was smirking at her, and Peyton who brought out a black marker as well.
Pink and Black.
She's gonna turn the board into punk central.
Brookes smiled, "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked Rachel.
"Is little 'I'm gonna kick everyone's $$' Brooke Davis, aka 'Bubbles' scared of Wilmington North Carolina?" she snickered, purely out of sheer teasing.
"Well I'm sorry if I don't want to make my television debut on the six 'o' clock news." Brooke sneered, with an extra snap to her voice.
"It's not that scary." fought Rachel.
Brooke remembered something, using it to her benefit. "You lived there for like a year, and in a gated community."
"Okay, well that is so beyond the point. Besides, what are the odds that you'll run into one of the gangs down there on one trip? And they leave you alone if you leave them alone. They might cause trouble to the other gangs, but not to an innocent bystander. The ones in Charlotte might, but not the Wilmington gangs."
"Do I wanna know why and how you know all about these gangs?"
"Like I said before, I used to live there."
"No, you didn't say that. I did." Brooke corrected with a wave of a pointer finger.
"Whatever, anyways as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted." she cleared her throat, and grabbed a stapler, examining it. "I used to live there so you're kinda exposed to that, no matter where you are. Well that and my older brother is kinda involved with one."
Brooke asked, "Which one?" she leaned forward, listening intently.
"What does it matter, it not like you're going to run into one."
"Just wanna know."
"The Kings." said Rachel, finishing off the end of the sentence like the last bit of polished nail.
"The Kings." repeated Brooke, looking off into nothing.
"Yeah, but just because they don't 'cause' trouble doesn't mean that they aren't dangerous. They're probably the most notorious gang in North Carolina. Hell probably the most notorious gang from here to New York."
"I think I heard of them." said Brooke. "And the Bloods and Crips."
"I fucking hate the Bloods." Rachel whispered.
"Why?"
"Because they murdered my dad, that's why my brother joined the Kings."
"Because the Kings hate the Bloods." Brooke whispered.
"Yeah." she sighed, tears welling up in her cappuccino colored eyes. "Where the hell is Mouth!" she laughed, wiping the tears away that ran down her soft cheeks.
Her attempt at changing the subject only worked because Peyton and Brooke knew she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Peyton just whispered a muffled 'I'm sorry.' and Brooke rubbed her arms comfortingly for a few seconds, before going back to what they were doing so she wouldn't be forced to be reminded of the pain.
Mouth was at the cafeteria, trying to get anything to drink. Though the machines were not cooperating. He had been trying to smack the drinks out of the machine for a while, though sadly not succeeding. He had trying shaking it with all the muscle he could muster, although the sign on the side strictly prohibited it. It began rocking back and forth, doing everything but giving him back his money or giving him a drink. This was the second machine that had done this to him since he got there. He wasn't going to just move on and try another machine like he had done with the first one. And there was no way he could ask a teacher or an office worker, he's get into trouble for even being here in the first place.
"You'd think with all the money this school has to buy teachers Benz's, they'd at least update the soda machine's once a decade." he heard a soft voice behind him.
Turning around, his chocolate eyes caught gaze with the two most beautiful emerald eyes he had ever seen. Her blonde hair was up in a bun, and the stray pieces of silky strands fell to her face as the soft breeze that had been allowed in by the open doors. Pushing them back, she gave a wide smile, showing nothing but teeth. He thought she looked honest and sweet.
"Yeah, why are you down here? I mean, you're Erica Marsh, the smartest girl in our grade. I wouldn't have thought that you would be—" being cut off by Erica, she smiled at him.
"You thought that I would be nothing but a bookworm with my nose always buried in a book." she stated, looking down at the floor.
Her silky blonde hair fell yet again to her face, and she never lost her smile. Though she hated it when people thought that there was nothing to Erica Marsh but a pretty face and a future rocket scientist. Well not literally, but she was practically capable of finding a cure for cancer if given the time and equipment. She wanted to be like Brooke Davis, the one who was beautiful, smart, and popular. Not many people knew that Brooke was just as much of a brain as she was.
"No, I just thought that you were one of those completely dedicated people."
"Yeah, completely dedicated to schoolwork and nothing but schoolwork."
"It's an admirable quality."
"Really?" she reached over behind him.
"I wish I could be like that."
Erica smiled, watching him. "Thanks."
"What are you doing?" he looked behind him, but the machine was too close to his back to get a clear view.
"I am doing this." she muttered, bending down and pushing his legs apart and she heard him chuckling lowly as he tried to speak but nothing audible came out.
Beads of swear started to collect at his temple, even though she was only kneeing down for about ten seconds. When she came back up, she stood in front of hi with a fruit punch gatorade in hand.
"I think this belongs to you." she laughed as he blushed furiously.
She thought it was cute, and started laughing again as he took the drink gratefully.
"Th...thaks."
"No problem, you need anymore help?"
"Actually yeah, that would be great." he gave his million dollar smile, and looked at her moving closer to demonstrate what she did earlier.
She held down the coin ejecting button, and pressed a random button.
"So I'm guessing that you spend a lot of time down here during classes?" he put in a dollar and did started to do what she had showed him.
"You have to pick the one you want first," she said, as she held his hand back with hers. "otherwise you'll get the first random thing you pick. Then you press at least two different ones while holding down the coin eject button." she finished, walking him though it again.
He smiled, and his eyes turned daring and almost unreadable. The way Rachel had told him to look at girls to get them to melt. He laughed remembering that day. He remembered Brooke bouncing into the room and fighting with Rachel on the fact that he just be himself and see if a girl likes him for him. Though with the way her fair cheeks heated up told him that maybe Rachel was right that time. Though he definitely wasn't going to change himself anytime soon. The way she had walked right up to him in the first place showed him that she had already been attracted to him for him.
Ten minutes past, and Mouth and Erica were sitting on top of the lunch tables, and sat across of each other with their legs crossed. Talking about everything and anything that came to mind. Both ignoring the fact that they could get caught at any time now, or the fact that his friends were waiting for him, and she was MIA in her class of physics. He knew that Brooke took physics, even though it wasn't mandatory to take more than three years of science.
Erica laughed, "God, you know I really have to get back to physics. And I'm sure that you have to go back to Latin, and give your friends the gatorades." she patted her knees and he brushed himself off as he reached out his hand to help her off the table.
"Thanks." Erica said.
"Anytime."
They both smiled for about a minute, before signaling that they were about to head off into different directions. Turning around to walk away, Erica took a few steps away as she herself heard his footsteps retreating.
"Hey Mouth."
He turned around on his heel, and raised his brows.
"Yeah?"
"What are you guys celebrating?"
"Oh, Peyton just got an interview for an internship at Sassy magazine."
"For what?" she plastered on a confused look to her face.
"I don't know, Brooke didn't tell me. Though I'm guessing it was for an illustrations job."
"Wow, that's awesome. Tell her congratulations for me okay?" her sweet southern accent dripping from her voice.
"I will." he gave a warm smile and looked back to where he was heading, as did she.
"Hey Mouth." he heard from behind him again.
His heart was beating faster and faster with each increasing moment, and he hoped that she would have the nerve he didn't have.
"Yeah?" he said with a warm voice that matched his smile perfectly.
"Would you by any chance want to hang out with me later?"
"Are you kidding me? Spending time with you outside of school? I'd love to."
"Great, I'll call you. I'll tell Brooke to give you my number, I kinda got detention too." she admitted, remembering that he had told her Brooke's situation.
"You got detention? You're too beautiful and smart to get detention."
It was now her turn to blush when she felt her cheeks heating up and sensed Mouth staring at her.
"Well if Brooke can get detention than I can get detention."
They both laughed, and Mouth almost dropped the four gatorades he was holding. She smirked and finished off her root beer and tossed it in the large garbage can to her right.
"I really wish I didn't have to go." he said.
"Me either, but we've already wasted a half a class."
"It feels pretty good to be bad." he nodded, and laughed when he said this.
She shoved her hands in her pants pockets and looked at him, while admiring the way he was. The way he was so different from most of the guys. They way she had always wanted a man to be, but had given up hope.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Though I'm still surprised we didn't get caught."
"Watch, I'm going to turn around now and get totally busted."
She laughed.
He loved hearing her voice.
She loved watching him smile.
He smiled when she laughed.
"Well then I guess we better be going."
"I guess so."
"Bye Mouth."
"Bye beautiful." she blushed furiously. "Or Erica, whichever you prefer. I was just making an observation, I hope you don't mind." she shook her head, and gave him a faint wave as she turned her back and began walking back to Physics.
He followed her lead, though in the other direction, and both of them looked back at least twice. Both at different times, and not catching the other stare into their backs.
When Mouth got back to the classroom his friends were in, it was locked. He tried his best to balance the drinks and twist the door handle open with more force than he had used before. Though it still remained jammed. He wondered why it was locked, had their teacher actually remembered the class? Had the school caught on to the fact that the teacher constantly forgot about classes? He started to panic, and placed the drinks down lightly on the ground. Still attempting to twist the handle open, he had yet succeeded. Now he started to knock on the door, no response. He shoved his hands into his pockets for a second and turned back to the repulsive door in front of him. Suddenly, he heard giggling. What the hell is going on in there? Screw it. He decided that it couldn't cause too much harm to try and break down one door. He backed up and came back forcefully sideways with his shoulder used as the door prier. All of a sudden, the door opened slightly, and before he knew what was happening, he found himself flying through the now open door and falling straight into Brooke's arms.
"Aw Mouth, I love you too." she cooed.
Peyton brought our her Nextel, which Brooke hated with a passion. That annoying little chirp would not die. And even if it could, she had no idea how to make that dream happen. And Peyton sure as hell wasn't going to tell her. Peyton snapped a picture of Brooke smiling satisfyingly and Mouth looking confused and scared that his friends had found a stash of weed and started burning.
Peyton smiled, and laughed before she opened her mouth to say something, "You looked so handsome Mouth."
Rachel smirked, "Very suave." she agreed.
"Very heavy, get off of me!" yelled Brooke.
"Brooke, shut up the doors wide open." Rachel said, using her hand as a demonstration.
He'snotdead...he'selectroencephalographicallychallenged. He'snotdead...he'selectroencephalographicallychallenged.
"Well Brooke you were the one who made me fall, and how did you know that I was coming?" Mouth was now bending down to pick up the four different flavors of gatorade and handed the fruit punch to Brooke.
"Well because I opened the door to look for you, and luckily I found you. Though you didn't see me. You looked like you were floating. Were you taking shrooms?" asked Brooke, pretending that she was a mom.
"Yeah Mouth, why were taking so long?" asked Rachel.
"Awe come on guys, leave him alone." ordered a serious Peyton as she grabbed his left arm and dragged him with her. "Mouth has been bitten by the love bug."
"Wasn't that a car in a fifties cartoon?" Brooke asked, closing the door.
Peyton grabbed an orange flavored drink from him, and he gave Rachel a cool blue and opened the fierce berry himself.
"I don't know, but that's besides the point. Aww, who is it?" Peyton added.
"Let me guess, give me your head." Brooke said.
He raised an eyebrow and looked more confused than he ever had in his entire life.
"Give me your head."
"Oh God, it's psycho Brooke." said Rachel.
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing."
Peyton added. "We'll see."
"I'm starting to sense a lot of negative energy." Brooke said.
Adding a lot of hand gesture for effect.
They started laughing at her sense of humor, and Mouth complied to her request or rather command, and let her feel up his head. Brooke messaged his temple and pulled onto his hair for awhile before backing up like she had seen a ghost and look straight into the eyes of an eager Mouth.
"It's Erica Marsh."
Mouth left his face in a shocked surprise, "How did you do that? That was amazing. Don't you guys think that that was amazing? Am I the only one that thinks this is amazing?" he babbled. Peyton started to laugh, and Brooke gave the biggest smirk she had ever used, completely pleased with herself, and Rachel gave a look of disgust.
Rachel smirked, "Please, you actually believed her? She went sneaking downstairs to spy on you."
"I had to go to the bathroom." she argued.
"There are four bathrooms upstairs." Rachel pointed out.
Brooke shrugged, and took a sip from her drink.
Rachel leaned further back in her chair, and took a sip from her cool blue and felt herself starting to slip back. She felt the chair falling backwards and immediately jumped up, causing Mouth and Brooke to gasp as well. Peyton, who was back to her dry erase board drawing, turned around when she heard the metal click of the chair and gasps.
"What's going on?" asked Peyton.
"Are you okay?" said Brooke.
And Moth stood by looking concerned.
Rachel cried out, wiping at herself with her hands, "The damn drink spilled on me."
"Well at least your bodily fluid didn't spill from your head onto the floor." Mouth said.
"Brain fluid actually, or cranial fluid." said Brooke, tapping her nose.
Mouth gave her a look and made a face that almost made her spit out her drink on him.
"I'm just making it anatomically correct."
Rachel frantically moved herself to the point of vertigo, before she clarified, "No! It spilled on my crotch, I looked like I just pissed myself."
"That's gotta suck out loud." said Peyton.
Brooke scoffed, before letting out a loud laugh, "Yeah, too bad you don't have a change of clothes."
"Brooke!" she wined, as Mouth stifled a laugh.
"Rachel!" matching her tone.
"You always have a change of clothes." Rachel said.
"Yeah, for me." she pointed out, while taking a look at the damage done on Rachel's pants. "You know, I feel like a perv." she said, as she backed away.
Staring at her best friends crotch wasn't her favorite thing to do.
Though she definitely wouldn't mind Chris (Keller) spilling something on himself in her presence.
"You mean like the pervs that sit next to you one the bus?" said Peyton, twirling her hair between her fingers.
"And fall asleep on your shoulder, don't forget the repulsive shoulder thing." Mouth added.
"And all the while every other seat is open." smiled Rachel.
"Am I the only one who is freaked by that?" asked Brooke.
Silence.
"I will take that as a yes."
"But seriously Brooke, it's bad enough I have to take the bus and now I have to look like a bed wetter?" said Rachel.
Peyton piped up again, "But you're not in a bed, so you'd be more of a desk wetter."
"Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better." frowned Rachel, with a scowl towards Peyton, and a hopeful smile directed to Brooke. "Please best friend?"
"Fine."
Rachel clapped her hands together merrily and threw them up in triumph.
"Thank you so much, I love you." she continued on with the flattery.
Not that Brooke minded.
"Oh!" remembered Brooke and everyone turned to her. "Cheers!" she reminded them, and everyone lifted their drinks to drink to the fact that Peyton had gotten that interview.
"Thank you all, but it's not for sure." said Peyton.
"Stop trying to be modest, and boast!" Rachel said.
"Yeah, kind of like Rachel and I." added a smiling Brooke, concentrating on her nails more than anything.
"I wonder why I love you guys." Mouth thought out loud.
Rachel knew the answer. "Because we're hott."
"Because we're sexy." said Brooke, thinking of another adjective to closely describe them, since Rachel took hers.
"Because we're talented." said the blonde.
"No," said Brooke, "see your line is, because we're fine."
"Because we're fine." she agreed.
"Welcome to our side Peyton."
Mouth gaped, looking bright eyed at the blonde, "Don't leave me Peyton." he begged playfully.
They turned their attention to what Peyton was staring at, and looked to the board.
"Wow Peyton, that's amazing." he said.
It was a drawing of burning house in the middle of a lake, and an angel standing on the raft next to it with words in Latin.
"Come on Peyton, you know I can't read that. I only failed this class." whined Brooke.
"A B- is not failing." laughed Mouth.
"It is if you had all straight A's, she just flunked me because I can't pronounce for crap."
"Anyways, goldielocks, Rachel is so proud of you, and you are so getting this internship." Rachel said, while looking at the artwork.
Brooke got out her razr and snapped a picture.
"I think you should keep it up and print your name on it for the next class to admire."
she lifted her shoulders up as she sent this suggestion Peyton's way.
"You are so in though bestest friend." Rachel gawked.
"Definitely." he agreed.
The next few hours went by slowly, and each of the four of them spent time hanging out with their other friends, and going to their classes.
Brooke dreaded as the hours went slowly, painfully by. Each minute coming dangerously closer to the end of the line. Detention with Mr. Rountree. Sitting her $$ on a 'science' chair staring at the wall while having an imaginary conversation in her head with the wall, and having her back ache like a bch. At least it wasn't a suspension. Though a part of her said to mouth off even more to him so she could get one. That would have been way more fun, because of the punishment, and the fact that she'd get to speak her mind to her crazy yet sometimes fun teacher.
But that wouldn't be good, it would look terrible on her college application, and she honestly did care way more than anyone thought she did. True she could easily get it with her daddy's money.
At lunch, they sat together on one of the huge tables that the juniors and seniors were privileged with, or the opportunity to eat off campus.
At their table sat some of their best friends. Brooke, Rachel, Peyton, Teresa, Bevin, Chris
Skillz, Junk, Fergie, and Mouth sat in that order around the round table. Brooke and Rachel shared a lunch, taking turns taking bites. Since Peyton ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwich earlier that day.
Mouth was doing nothing but talking about Erica who was nowhere to be found at the moment, and the girls were giving him advice while the guys cracked a few jokes, and had their own conversation amongst themselves since Teresa sent them murderous glares.
When lunch finished, they had a ten minute recess period to basically do whatever they wanted to. Well not anything they wanted to, anything that pertained to the rules.
Finally at the end of the day, everyone was sweaty from P.E. and didn't shower due to the fact that they only had four minutes to get to their classes. Some showered quickly who had nearby classes, but most of them jammed themselves back into their jeans which always seemed to get tighter after the sweated.
Study hall was the last class of the day and most of the ten friends had that exact class together. Either that or P.E. In their study hall, they did nothing but play around the whole time. This was a total one eighty from Mr. Rountree's class. Brooke let out a grunt and a sigh as she remembered that she'd have to spend two hours after school staring at a wall. Staring at a wall! At least with Mr. Woolery who she was now interrogating would talk to her and they would have fun getting to know more about each other. Well Brooke would get to know more about him since she was usually the one who asked him questions. They'd always be random and irrelevant but it would always be funny. He would ask her questions sometimes, but mostly things like, 'has anyone ever told you that you're bitter?, did you get tested for ADD?, you must have been a joy to raise huh?, and what are you on?' But nothing more than the ever so popular, 'what are you doing?'
Though they loved him, and he loved them. They had always been his favorite class because he had been their Creative Writing and homeroom teacher since they were freshman and he had started his first year at teaching. He had taught them a lot about life and they had taught him a lot as well. That was the relationship he and Brooke had, they could openly insult each other and know that the other was kidding...most times.
"What's this book about?" asked Brooke.
He turned around sharply in the desk he was sitting in and looked over at her looking through his bookcase.
Mr. Woolery looked up only briefly, to say something, "It's all about cults."
"Yeah, I kinda got that when I read the cover." she showed him the words that said, 'Cults In Our Midst'.
He rolled his eyes, and looked through the many paper he had sprawled out on the desk in front of him. His knees were hitting the underneath of the front part, partly because he was six foot two and partly because these desks were made for children.
Brooke laughed as she took in the sight of him sitting down looking like an idiot. Though she stopped when she remembered that he had given into her when she had taken his seat in the large leather recliner, and refused to move.
"You asked." he said.
"I know, but I meant what is it about about cults?"
"Read the back." she turned it over and found the synopsis too long, so she placed it down and pulled her camisole down a bit so her stomach wasn't exposed. She looked over at their teacher, and Rachel and Peyton who were sitting right next to him, giving each other makeovers. He seemed trance-like with whatever was so interesting. She leaned over his shoulder and asked him what he was doing.
"I'm grading the Pre-Algebra's tests." he said in a stoic manner, he was so concentrated, he didn't even see her grab one. "Give that back now Brooke."
"I just want to see the problems, these are so easy."
Bevin looked up at Brooke through her own itinerary, speaking out of context, "Well duh Brooke, this coming from someone who was in Algebra 2 when she was a freshman." Brooke rolled her eyes, and Bevin went back to painting her nails with a shiny baby pink.
"I just want to see if I can do this."
Mr. Woolery yanked it back from her, almost giving her a paper cut.
"Of course you can, you're in Calculus." he said.
"All the more reason." she yanked it back. "I want to see if I can remember the basics."
"No," he said, yanking it back again and holding his hands firmly against the desk, pinning the papers under his hands. "you wanna look at the answers and then go tell the students."
"Please, I don't even like the freshmen." she fought, trying to grab hold of another.
"You want me to take back that chair that you're not even using?" threatened Mr. Woolery while staring her in the eyes.
"Whatever," she said, and went back to the book she had put down and plopped herself in the comfortable seat. Why couldn't the science chairs be like this? Then honestly she wouldn't have minded getting detention. But she guessed that was the point, make it as unenjoyable as humanly or legally possible. She knew if detention consisted of a jacuzzi, ice cream, and hand and foot waiting she's do anything to get that. Though she could have just jumped in her jacuzzi in the backyard, and ordered a maid service.
She flipped through the book, and stopped when she came to something that caught her eye.
"There's a cult named "Da Free John?" her perfectly waxed eyebrow arched. "Founded by some dude named Bubba?"
Mr. Woolery looked up and broke out in laughter, as did the rest of the class that was close enough, or was actually paying attention.
"Well, it's nice to have some laughter in my life before death row." Brooke joked.
"Oh come on bubbles, it wont be that bad." he reassured her.
"OMG does everyone know about that stupid nickname that makes me sound like a fricking fish?"
The rest of the study hall went by with Brooke finishing skimming the book, talking to Mr. Woolery, jumping in to do makeup with Peyton and Rachel, sitting down and joining Teresa and Bevin with putting on makeup, swinging on the roller recliner, drawing random classmates faces humongously (I know, not a word) on the board, and hanging out with some of the guys, talking about the new action films coming out, and telling Mr. Woolery about Peyton's internship. After he congratulated her and she spoke with him about it for a few minutes, Brooke piped in again.
Brooke slanted her eyes, and looked up through the slit corners, "Hey Pey, you called Sassy right?" referring to when Peyton said she'd call and ask if they could postpone the interview.
"Yes, at recess."
"Cool, so Rachel why don't you just come with for the ride so I can take you back to Tree Hill while Peyton's there, that way you don't have to have someone fall asleep on your shoulder-"
Rachel&&Peyton-"When every other seat is open." they said in synchronization.
"What are you guys talking about?" asked Mr. Woolery.
"Am I the only one that thinks that having some sixty year old dude perv on you, and 'fall asleep' on you is kinda creepy?" Brooke used air quotes for the emphasis of the sentence.
"Again I ask, what are you guys talking about?"
"Stop being so slow Mr. Woolery." Brooke groaned, and then shot her eyes open as he gave her a glare. "Sorry, I lied."
"You better have." he said.
"So Pipi Long Stockings," she used her childhood nickname for Rachel. "you want to?"
Rachel shifted in her seat and curled her eyelashes, and handed Peyton the MAC mascara and eyeliner.
"I thought you said that it was a waste of time and gas?" she looked into the mirror without taking her eyes off of her eyelashes.
"Well yeah, but if you want to I will." she started biting her fingernails, careful to avoid chipping off a piece of nail polish and swallowing it.
"Aww Brooke you're being so awesome to me today. First you let me borrow your jeans, which thank you again for, and you are going to waste your gas for me?" she asked, seriously touched that she had such a best friend, and Brooke laughed at the thought that this was turning into a hallmark moment over jeans and gas.
"Don't mention it." Brooke said.
"I feel so jumpy." she said again, changing the subject, the silence was deafening.
"Have you ever gotten tested?" asked Mr. Woolery.
"Eww, I do not have an STD and it's none of your-"
"I was talking about ADD." he explained and she froze up and felt her cheeks heating up.
Brooke smiled coyly, like she usually did, to hide any form of humiliation. "I totally knew that."
When the bell signaling both the end of study hall, and the end of the school day, Brooke thought of it as the signaling of the beginning of disaster.
She stopped by her locker, and put all her books away and walked as slowly as possible to the room she dreaded. When she finally got there, Rachel walked up to her and they stopped in the doorway. Brooke grabbed her black and white backpack and turned to look in the room, and already sitting down and staring at nothingness was Erica Marsh.
"How does she get detention?" Brooke asked.
"Maybe she demanded extra credit."
"I wouldn't be surprised."
"Let's just be nice, cause Mouth likes her." Rachel said.
"I'll try, but I'm not making any promises."
"Fine, okay so me and Peyton are going to be downstairs in the cafeteria. The basketball team is downstairs."
Brooke gave a wide smile, and held her hair up in one hand while grasping her books tightly in the other.
"Yeah, I love you and I will remember you always." she mock cried.
"Drama Queen." Rachel taunted in a sing-song tune.
"Dear child do not forget me." she walked into the room, while holding Rachel's hand tightly, causing it to turn red, then white.
As she walked further and further, she turned back and looked at her dramatically as if she were being pushed from the Titanic. Slowly letting her hand slip away, she still held out her arm elongated perfectly, and stayed like that until she walked in front of Mr. Rountree's desk.
"Take a seat."
Brooke nodded and pulled her hair up into a high, loose bun like the girl she pulled a chair up next to. The blonde turned and said hi to her, and she smiled and returned the gesture. She seemed like a sweet southern girl, what's not to like? She was glad that Mouth picked her and thought that her little boy was growing up.
James was interesting.
James had aspirations.
James wanted to go to Harvard and become a lawyer.
James had a well to do family.
James had wanted to make it on his own.
James was admired by Brooke.
James was the wall.
She wasn't kidding earlier when she had said she's resort to having an imaginary conversation in her head with the wall. This was sad, but more fun than the alternate.
"It's been an hour, Brooke you can go take a ten minute break, and Erica you can go."
The girls jumped off of the chairs with enthusiasm, and Erica gathered up her things as Brooke walked off into the hallway on her way to the bathroom.
"Brooke!" she heard someone call her name, she knew who it was.
"Hey Erica, I'm sorry we couldn't talk earlier. Our $$es would have been had." the smile on her face seemed more of a forced smirk.
Crossing her arms quickly, Brooke inwardly adjusted her eyes to examine the girl who Mouth couldn't and wouldn't stop talking about.
Erica pulled down her bun as she rolled the hair tie onto her wrist and adjusted her backpack that was laying on her right shoulder.
"I wanted to give you my number and ask if you would give it to Mouth." Erica looked through her bag for any piece of paper. She really did not want to take a whole sheet from her binder or even get in there with all the books she had been holding.
"Can we please talk about this inside the bathroom, I have to pee really badly." she pointed to the bathroom.
"Oh yeah, of course." she laughed and the sides of her eyes squinted.
Erica watched Brooke practically run away, and she thought she heard a quick 'thank you' before she dashed off in the direction of the nearest girl's room.
When Erica got to the bathroom, Brooke was already in the stall, and she stood on the side by the sink waiting for her. Pulling out her brush, she combed through her hair, and applied a thin coat of lemony lip gloss. When she was done, Brooke unlocked the stall lock and walked out to wash her hands.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" her voice distant and her face laying unreadable.
"I was wondering if you could give Mouth my number."
"Sure." she smiled, and dried her hands after rinsing them.
Erica took note of the way Brooke had said the last word. It was nothing deeper than a forced answer that came out slowly like she was attempting to get a child to comprehend rocket science.
Erica ripped off a piece of folder paper, because she couldn't find anything else. Scribbling down her number, she handed it to Brooke and gave her a warm smile. Trying her hardest to maintain herself and hold back the snide comment she had at the tip of her tongue.
"You know, Mouth really likes you Erica."
Erica touched the unbearably cold marble plated countertop and winced before stepping back and offering a now fake smile.
"You know, I like him too. He's a really cute guy and is so different from every other loser out there. He seems like such an amazing guy." her voice was lifted from the colder tone and started warming up as she thought about Mouth.
"Yeah, he is an amazing guy and I will not let you hurt him. He's the nicest guy I have ever known, and my best friend and I will not let you use him and then lose him. He is so much better than that."
"Oh," her cold smile returning as quickly as it left. "use em lose em, kinda like you?"
she placed her hands on her hips and waited for Brooke to quickly respond like she always did.
"My social or personal lives are none of your business!" her finger now sternly pointing in her face. "And for the record, you don't know shit about me, so don't assume that you do. Better be nice to me though whitchy poo, other wise I just may not give him your number." she threatened, backing away slightly.
Though neither of their faces softened, and remained cold and heartless.
"Well, he will only come up to me and ask for it, and what the hell bit you in the $$ so bad?."
"Whatever, I have to go back to detention." her voice dripped with an equal amount of sarcasm and drama.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she flattened her hair and ruffled the front so her bangs would fall heavily to the tip of her eyelashes.
"Good luck with that."
Erica's eyes showed that she was severely un amused as well as uninterested. Looking off in the opposite direction, with her left hand balled up into a fist ad resting casually on her left hip, she held out her number between her right pointer and middle fingers for Brooke to take.
Brooke yanked it forcefully from her hand using every finger of her own, and shoved it in her back pocket. Giving her one last stern look, she turned away and walked from the room. Slowly making her way back to the classroom, she poked her head in and saw her teacher's back turned toward her. She sped walked past the door, then slowed down when she walked up to the drinking fountain and held the sides of it while she held down the button and took small sips. Wiping her mouth and her jacket sleeve, she walked back as if she were paused into slow motion. Wanting to keep herself busy for however longer she had remaining for break, she thought of everything. Though she didn't want to be late for their second session, she sighed and decided to walk back into the lion's den and avoid the risk of getting another hour.
Well, I guess it's just you and me James.
She thought as she sat back down on the uncomfortable chair.
Sad, she was resorting to talking to an inanimate object.
She was scarier than the girl who was deathly afraid of pickles.
And one of mustard.
Don't forget the mustard.
A few minutes shy from an hour later, Brooke heard the familiar male's voice behind her. The voice that sometimes made her cringe, or laugh. He said she could go now, and she nodded remembering to not utter a thank you of any kind. While gathering her things, she was bent already and sensed a sensation near her navel, standing back up straight with the retrieved items from the floor, the sensation left.
She headed out the door, and made her stop at her locker to get whatever she needed of put away anything she didn't. Soon after, she made her way downstairs and found Rachel sitting on a table talking to Vegas, a basketball player who was sitting on one of the other tables through cell phones. Peyton was busy drawing something sitting in the chair, situated on Rachel's table, while a tall guy with blonde hair kept on trying to start a conversation.
Making herself know, she bounced up to them and shut Rachel's phone shut, while Rachel groaned that she hung up on the guy who was sitting six feet away from her. The two girls gathered their things, and said their goodbyes, and headed out to follow Brooke who was doing her best to dodge all the catcalls heading her way.
When they got to the car, Peyton jumped in the front seat and Rachel slid in the back, all of their school materials in the trunk. Rachel strapped on her seatbelt securely over her chest, and looked forward absentmindedly with an innocent look on her face and a slight pout. Peyton strapped herself in as well, and fumbled with the radio stations, complaining about the fact that there was nothing on. And Brooke either forgot her belt or intentionally forgot it, she was ever big on seatbelts. Having a clearly visible scar on her neck that Peyton had once pointed out, she explained that when she was younger, she was in a slight accident and the belt had rubbed furiously against her neck, causing painful and unwanted friction.
The car was gassed up and ready to go, brake down, and put into gear. Soon enough, they were quickly heading out to their long enough destination.
"Sweet! Road trip!" said Rachel, her hands were clapping merrily for a few seconds.
Brooke scoffed, yet smiled and Peyton answered while still playing with the channels.
"Yeah, a one hour road trip." she corrected.
"So, it's two for me and Brooke." Peyton nodded, remembering that they would be on their way back to Tree Hill after she had been dropped off.
"Actually it's three for me, cause I'm going to have to come back." said Brooke.
"Actually it's four, cause we are going back to Tree Hill too." Peyton corrected, with what seemed to be a calculator of a mind.
"Actually for you, it's-" Brooke got cut off by Rachel.
"Okay seriously can we stop this?" her face turned serious, which masked her playfulness.
The blonde and brunette simply laughed at how retarded they could sometimes be.
"We're so powerpuff girls." Peyton laughed, then moved her arm to rest lightly outside the window.
"We're Charlie's Angels." added an excited Rachel.
"The three musketeers?" asked Brooke, trying to not make them sound too much like a candy bar.
"Three peas in a pod." said Peyton.
"Three's company." Brooke added.
Peyton cringed, and made a look like she just sucked a lemon, "Oh God, that show sucks, my dad forces me to watch it with him when he's home."
"Scary." Brooke agreed.
"I want to be the Fantastic Four." said Rachel.
"There's only three of us." Peyton pointed out, and literally pointing to each one of the individually.
"Now Peyton, it's not Rachel's fault that she can't add. Special." Brooke said the last part in a sing-song voice.
"I'm not an idiot, I just with there was one more so we could be the Fantastic Four, that's all. They're pretty hott, and it was made into a movie so it's not a cartoon, and their hair is much better, or normal." she counted off, listing the differences between having four and having three. "Hey, Brooke," changing the subject. "you're wearing a different shirt." finished Rachel.
"Yeah, I know, I changed right before I came down to get you guys."
She looked down quickly to examine her white boybeater.
"Brooke, are you not wearing a bra?" asked Peyton.
"I haven't been wearing one all day. The other top I had on didn't need it, it had a built in bra." Brooke gave Peyton a very strange look, as if calling her a perv for looking there in the first place.
"Well that doesn't." said Peyton, shrugging off Brooke's stare.
Rachel wondered something, and wanted to make herself known, addressing her question to Peyton, "How did you know that she wasn't wearing a bra?"
"I can see her nipples."
"Brooke," Rachel gasped. "there is a fine line between slutty and sexy."
Peyton laughed, and pulled a pair of sunglass she scored for seven dollars over her hazel eyes.
"It's okay, and like anyone is going to see it."
"Fine." Peyton held her hands up in surrender, and smiled as she heard Rachel giggle in the backseat. Brooke scoffed and rolled her eyes, and pressed down on the gas a bit harder and they drove off into the now setting sun.
About an hour and fifteen songs like 'You Shook Me All Night Long' and 'American Woman' later, the building that Peyton had directed thanks to mapquest slowly started coming into view. It was a rather big building, looking clean and new like it most likely was. It was white with black trim, and had many windows and doors and a sign that said Sassy & G. And what looked like high ceilings and many floors, with elevators that overlooked the city clearly through glass windows.
"I'd hate to be in that elevator." commented Brooke, her pupils dilating from her sheer fear of heights.
"Me too." moment of silence. "Well, Peyton's gonna have to be in that elevator, have fun and look for us." Rachel practically pushed her out of the car and gave her a few words of advice, and hoped over the seats to situate herself in the front, next to Brooke.
"Bye guys, wish me luck." said Peyton.
They wished her luck and sat it the car because they wanted to see if Peyton could see them from the elevator. Well, Brooke wished her good luck and Rachel told her that she didn't need it, it was called talent.
A few minutes later, Brooke thought about Mouth for a second and how she immediately regretted talking to Erica that way. She tried her hardest to find someone else or something else to put the blame on, but found nothing. And she knew it was wrong to not step up and accept the fact that she was a bch, flat out without strings, a puppet master, or a ring master. Brooke Davis was once again a cold hearted bch. And she would accept that. She hated when other people tried to pull the blame off of themselves, she refused to be one of them. Though really, she had an issue with people she didn't know. If she wasn't sure she could trust you with her heart, she wouldn't dare give it a try. Only the people she had known fro pure, innocent childhood she's trust, mostly. Though she had never truly opened up to the people she called her best friends, and they didn't know that. Everyone saw Brooke Davis as either white or black, easy, dumb, bch, slut, period. Or a complicated and mysterious girl, but what her close friends didn't know was that she was a mystery to them as well. Moments that felt like hours passed, though only a few seconds flew by, and
Rachel opened her slvr and dialed Peyton's number. Peyton answered and told her that she was just about to call them and she was getting into the elevator. She had said something after that, though Rachel couldn't quite make it out because the reception cut them off.
Well it didn't work. Well for them of course it didn't work, though Peyton called and said she saw the small car from where she was, and that some kid was jumping up and down in there,
which scared her shitless.
"Well, it's already six. I think we should head back to Tree Hill." said Rachel.
"Yeah." her voice came out as nothing louder than a bare whisper.
Reversing, Brooke switched between looking in her rear view mirror, side mirrors, and completely turning around while bracing her right arm on the chair being occupied by Rachel and looking back and forth between the front and back of the car, she made her way out of the tight parallel parking space she took earlier. Now they were on their way back to Tree Hill.
Brooke's POV
Now, it's about seven at night, and since it's winter, it get pretty dark pretty fast. So, I just dropped off Rachel, and now I have to pick up Peyton. I'm so tired, I think I could fall asleep at the wheel. Spending two hours conversing silently with an inanimate object apparently take a lot out of you. I'm so tempted to stop at the next gas station to pick up some red bull, but I don't want Peyton to have to be waiting for me. It's not exactly the safest place to be hanging around at seven at night, when you're alone, and when you're a girl. Regardless of what Rachel had said about the Wilmington gangs leaving you alone if you leave them alone. They only bother when bothered, and who knows what they consider bothered to what you do. Or maybe their just in a conveniently bored mood, so they would pick on the first skinny looking white girl that walks their paths. True, Peyton has bird legs and looks like you can break her in half by sitting on her, like my phone. Again, I had to learn my lesson the hard way. But she's pretty fly for a white girl, she is totally capable of kicking some serious $$ if needed. I should know, we used to take capoeira together. My father demanded it, he said I had to learn how to take care of myself when he wasn't around. When honestly, I am so much more capable of taking care of myself when he's not around. I think it's just that he wanted to make his parents proud that I was carrying on the race related tradition. Though it was fun, Peyton's dad insisted she do it too, and we were always partners, having a chance to beat each other up without worrying about consequences.
My eyes are beginning to get a bit blurry, but it's nothing I haven't experienced before. Counting down to the expected product from my blurry vision, I grip the steering wheel tighter.
Three
Two
One
Yep, right on time too. I want so badly to close my eyes and forget about the shooting pains in my head. These damn headaches, no migraines. They sure are a bch. Peyton thinks their hereditary. I don't.
I start to rub my temples with my thumb and pointer fingers spread apart, and I see from the side of my eyes that it's starting to rain.
Another droplet hit my arm, and another, until a full on drizzle was sprinkling from Heaven on my left arm that was resting over the door through the window.
I am not about to get the upholstery ruined with water. Rolling up the windows, I grabbed hold of the parking break and shiver under the rain's cold touch. I'm feeling goosebumbs rise casually and form on my skin. I just had to change into this boybeater. And of course Rachel had my jeans, and I'm stuck wearing this exposing all skirt. Of course, me being me, forgot to ask Rachel for my jeans back or a pair of hers to wear.
I press the gas harder, and it seems to stay at the same pace. The speed refused to increase although I was not pressing a bit harder three times. It wasn't too much fun going no faster than twenty miles an hour, with some monster truck, well toyota if you want to get technical, tailing your $$ cause their in a hurry. Well, it's simply called passing.
I cough loudly as I feel the uninviting night's air creeping slowly through the cracked window. But I hear something that sounds similar, yet different. An oxymoron, I know, but that's how it really sounded. Was my couch that hoarse? Though I hear it again, but I'm not paying any attention to it. I'm being way too distracted by the stupid car behind me. I flip him off without turning back, and I immediately cower, remembering what Rachel had said. That this was gang territory, and they'll only mess with me if I mess with them. Well, I'm pretty sure flipping someone off is considered messing with them. Finally, the car passes me, and I breath a sigh of relief. Though the noise if back, and I hear a sputter coming from the front of my car. I finally noticed that my foot is now pressed fully on the gas pedal, and anyone with brains would know that it only takes a little led to kick it into full gear.
20 mph.
15 mph.
10 mph.
5 mph.
Gee, I wonder what's going to happen next.
0 mph.
Hmm, I'm either a psychic or shit out of luck.
I vote for shit out of luck, otherwise I would have seen this coming.
I curse as loud as I could over the now heavy rain, and bang my head against the steering wheel. I try to start the car again, since it now made it clear that it had momentarily died. While I'm putting the keys in the ignition, that stupid, irritation sputtering echo through the night. I figure after about the seventh try, it's dead. So I sit there for another few minutes, deciding what to do, before I reluctantly climb out of the car and now I'm pissed that my window is partially down and there's conveniently no backup for power locks.
Light Bulb.
I remember that I have a jacket from earlier today in my bag, so I open the trunk quickly and pull out my jacket, and then tossed the bag back in securely, and put the radio in there as well, just in case anyone tries to break in. Though they could take the car and everything with them. But what the hell am I saying? If my baby's not going to start for me, there's no way in hell she's going to start for some scum trying to steal a perfectly innocent girl's car. So, now I have the jacket, I'm thinking, the car or me? The car. It's worth way more than I am. So I'm stuffing the jacket in the crack, carefully placing it more on the inside that the outside, and lock everything, while dragging my ass somewhere warm. I look back at the car, before kicking it hard on the front wheel. I sigh as I take another look at my beautiful,
four hundred thousand dollar porsche carrera gt. Lovely.
I'm now calling Peyton, and she asks me if I'm there yet. I tell her everything that happened, and my clothes are now drenched wet and clinging tightly to my body. And my hair is now straggly sticking on some parts of my face, like my forehead or cheeks. Peyton's telling me to call a cab, and meet her at Sassy so we can deal with it together. I tell her no, it's only about for blocks away and we'll just call a cab from there. Although the bills going to be a bitch, thank God for daddy's credit cards. But I'm still walking, I'm already drenched like a cat in heat, what the hell else could possibly happen? Her voice is now getting irritating as she's yelling at me to stay put and call a cab. Though, I again refuse, I guess I'm just that strong willed person I always was. Now, I am going to hang up on her. And I did.
Some time and sore feet later, I silently coax myself that there are only two blocks left, and they're small. My phone is now ringing again and I see Peyton's number. I open and close it, I can already hear her scolding me for not calling a cab. She's always worrying too much. My eyes are starting to burn, and I close them and rub sort of in a hard way, and the stinging water seems to now relax my eyes. Then, all of a sudden, bam. I trip and fall smack into someone, I can't see clearly yet. I feel a pair of strong arms steadying me by my shoulders and I hear a low, raspy voice silently cursing under their breath. Now I'm hearing a soft chuckle in the background, and I spit venom before looking up.
"Watch where I'm going!" I looked up.
I immediately regret it.