Standby
Chapter 1: Build Up, Break Down
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Has nobody asked you how you are
You look like you might not last the day
I wouldn't have made it very far
So we'd make a good team right away
Ask Me How I Am, Snow Patrol
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"MOM, there's a sock in the toaster!"
Dorothy Ann gave the appliance a look of disgust before taking a bite of her cold bagel. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, she unplugged the toaster before moving out of the way of her mother advancing on the fire hazard with a butter knife. Ever since her younger brother's birth, her mother's odd behavior had become increasingly worse. Probably something to do with sleep deprivation.
"And tell Evan that if she doesn't get her pretty little butt down here, we're leaving without her. I've got a French club meeting this morning that I can't miss."
She'd wrecked her '97 Corolla in a ditch two weeks ago driving back from movie night at Ralphie's. Even though she had been driving too fast, she'd yet to admit it to anyone but Phoebe, and she had swerved to avoid a deer, which was the only reason she'd admitted it to Phoebe, the damage had been pretty minimal. At least until the boys had shown up in Ralphie's '03 Silverado and tried to pull her out of the ditch. Not only did they manage to back up into her car, twice, but according to the mechanic they'd hooked up to the wrong part in the undercarriage while they were trying to pull her out.
Long story short, Carlos would be driving her to school until her car got out of the shop. Read: sometime between next month and when hell froze over.
"I am not riding around in that…that…monstrosity!"
Evan stomped down the stairs in a huff. Last summer, when she'd turned thirteen, she'd grown boobs and an attitude. At fourteen, she was barely sufferable. She'd turned tanning into an extreme sport, no doubt she'd look like beef jerky in about ten years. She dyed her already blonde hair until it was almost white and generally wore it up into a long, perfect ponytail that usually took about thirty minutes to engineer. Evan had an issue with wearing clothes that weren't from Abercrombie and Fitch or Charlotte Russe; she also wore more makeup than D.A. thought humanly possible and never left the house without hoisting her 5'1" self up on dangerous high heels.
Oh how nice of the junior varsity cheer squad to replace her sweet little sister with a Barbie doll. She'd been meaning to send them a thank you note.
"What will the girls think, worse, what will they say? Gawd, they already think I'm dating Mikey, how stupid…"
By now they were in 'last nerve' territory. This usually came after Evan spent an hour in the bathroom and before they got out the door. "And what, in God's name, is wrong with Mikey?" DA was pretty sure that if her mom hadn't been standing there, she would have been tempted to shove the last of her bagel up her sister's nose. "You don't have any problem asking him for help with your homework."
Temporarily mollified with Evan's 'fish gasping for air' impression, she grabbed her backpack and ducked into the den to say goodbye to their dad. Fortunately he was too engrossed in reading Popular Mechanics to three year old William Michael to do little more than grunt. Lately she'd been getting a safety lecture every time she stepped out the door. Waving to her mother as she passed the kitchen, there was no way DA was getting near her mother when knives and toasters were involved, she'd grabbed Evan by the arm and was pulling her out the front door when Carlos laid on the horn.
The monstrosity that pulled up in the driveway wasn't all that bad. It was a '01 Dodge Caravan in gunmetal grey. The Ramones had dropped an extra $17,000 dollars to have the minivan outfitted with a VMI Northstar conversion, so Mikey and his wheelchair could fit in the passenger side. Because they'd gotten the conversion, they hadn't been able to get Carlos a car when he'd gotten his license. Instead of inheriting his mom's '92 Ford Focus, he'd opted to take the minivan, despite the fact that the guys on the soccer team called it the 'mom wagon.'
Anything was better than the Focus, he'd said, and Dorothy Ann was apt to agree.
"Looking good, Annie,"
One thing was for sure, she didn't look bad. Although she'd taken a while to mature, by seventeen she'd managed some respectable curves on a 5'4" frame. It also helped that she'd learned to dress herself.
She'd let her honey blonde hair grow out until she could sweep her bangs to the side and her hair fell just beyond her shoulders. Long layers and a sound investment in a straightening iron had gone a long way. Lightly tanned from summers spent reading along the Gulf of Mexico, a little powder and some black eyeliner and mascara, to bring out her blue eyes, was the only make up she used.
Still, her overall look didn't change much from elementary to junior high school. She'd still worn thin pullovers with pleated skirts, trading white tights and Mary Janes for knee high socks and Keds. It really hadn't been until freshman year, after Phoebe commented on her clothes, that DA realized she needed a style overhaul.
Today it was low rise jeans and a blue and white pinstripe button up over a white tank top. Although there was no cleavage involved, it hugged her body well enough to show off her attributes without looking skanky. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbow and pressed, typical dad behavior, and a pair of brown leather mules styled to look vaguely like moccasins.
Sliding into the second row seat behind the driver's, she rolled her eyes when she caught Carlos' wandering ones. Considering two minutes later he was checking out Evan, she didn't take it to heart. She was pretty sure her sister's skirt not only violated dress code but the Geneva Convention.
"Yeah, yeah, and you look like a Latin heartthrob, as usual."
"What about me?"
There was no denying that both Ramone brothers were attractive. Lean and lanky with muscles that came from playing soccer for years on end, Carlos was the tallest of the boys, brushing 6'1". Deeply tanned, it only made his bright smile stand out more. He'd let his hair grow out until it was shaggy and Dorothy Ann was forever pushing it out of his chocolate brown eyes, much to everyone's annoyance. Especially her own. His wardrobe consisted of the soccer jerseys from his favorite teams: his own, Manchester United, and Italy; along with carefully distressed jeans, Phoebe's term, and new vintage t-shirts, something that Tim never let up about. He dressed up nicely, but, rarely did so. Last year's Walkerville Green Jays jersey, jeans, and expensive running shoes were apparently what he'd managed to confiscate from the clean clothes pile buried somewhere in his room.
Mikey, on the other hand, had seemed to grow out where his brother had grown up, probably standing about 5'7" or 5'8". A mechanical whiz, the sophomore spent a lot of his time attempting to restore his dad's '68 El Camino from disrepair in the Ramone's second garage. When he wasn't buried in a Physics textbook or kicking ass in video games, he was working out. This resulted in a very nicely built Mikey Ramone. While he had his brother's coloring, he kept his hair shorter and gelled to mussed perfection. He'd suddenly taken a liking to slacks with belts, nice button ups, and semi-dressy shoes; the why was anyone's guess.
Taking in his dark green dress shirt tucked into charcoal grey slacks, Dorothy Ann couldn't help but smile. "Wouldn't want to inflate you ego, kiddo, but you look ready for the cover of GQ."
"Yeah Geeks and Que…"
"Evan!"
"What?"
"Language, please."
The boys cracked up in the front seat, used Evan's attitude by now, and the group settled into an easy silence amid the stylings of Jack Johnson crooning from the CD player. Carlos's taste in music was varied and no one really questioned it.
DA thought it probably had something to do with getting hit upside the head with a soccer ball too many times.
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The cafeteria was packed by the time she made it out of AP Chemistry. Somehow Mr. Roberts had managed to strong arm her into tutoring, again. She'd tried telling him that she was StuCo secretary, president of the French and Astronomy clubs as well as NHS, and the student editor of the yearbook but he wouldn't take no for an answer. But she could manage, right? Even with weekends spent doing odd jobs at the Walkerville Planetarium; it was just one stupid football player.
She was Dorothy Ann Brighton, after all. She could handle anything.
Except for dead birds in the backyard, William Michael's temper tantrums, and Florrie Johnson flirting with Carlos.
Their table was fairly quiet when DA finally plopped down in the vacant seat beside Phoebe. Although, as seniors, they all had lunch together, over the years they'd managed to spread out. Carlos flitted between their table and the soccer team's, noting the lack of bad jokes, today was apparently a soccer day. Tim holed himself up in the Fine Arts wing and Wanda usually used lunch as an opportunity to catch up with the gossip in the bathroom.
"Where's Arnold?" Since he was usually glued to Phoebe's face during lunch, it was odd that he wasn't at the table.
"Oh, the swim team had a pre-season match in Beaumont today. We've been in school barely three weeks and they're already having swim meets…" Phoebe shook her head and went back to pushing her three bean chili around in its Tupperware container. Suddenly she brightened up, auburn hair falling into her eyes as she turned, "I know, you can come with me. I just cleaned the Jeep out and your house is on the way, so you wouldn't have to worry about Evan…"
"I can't, Pheebs, I start tutoring this afternoon…"
"How about later, then, after the meet? We could all go out for smoothies or something…"
"I've got to watch William Michael tonight. Mom's started teaching a night class at the community college and Dad's got to take Evan to Houston for some cheer…"
"All right, all right, I get it. You're busy." Phoebe went back to half heartedly relocating her beans, effectively shutting off conversation.
"Ralphie and I would go with you, Phoebe, but idiot over here got himself extra workouts for being late to practice." Keesha rolled her eyes as Ralphie blanched and DA knew exactly where it was headed. Keesha and Ralphie weren't even officially dating, but, ever since they'd started sticking their tongues down each other's throats in June, ever other day meant bickering.
"Well, I wouldn't have been late if somebody wouldn't have decided at the last minute she needed to pick up her grandma's prescription."
"Well if somebody would learn how to manage his time properly,"
"It's not my fault somebody wants to jump me every time we're…"
"Stop it, just stop it!" Phoebe stood up suddenly, knocking cold chili all over the top of the table. "There are some of us trying to eat," apparently the spilled chili was being ignored, "and all the arguing is leading to indigestion." She squeaked when she realized they were attracting an audience and, quickly grabbing her things, ran off.
Rolling her eyes, Dorothy Ann realized it was her duty as best friend to hurry after the crazed vegetarian and figure out what was wrong. "Fine, I'll go. Since this is your fault, you guys can clean it up."
Three weeks into the beginning of senior year and someone was already having an emotional crisis. Joy.
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She never had been able to find Phoebe and, figuring she'd probably hid the choir room, DA decided to leave well enough alone. The day went by fast and without much incident, and before she knew it she was in English Lit. It was nice because Carlos was in her class, which meant it was never boring, the teacher, Mrs. Monroe, was also the yearbook sponsor, and she'd read most of the books that they'd be going over that year.
Because it was soccer season, somehow Walkerville High was able to support a football and soccer team, DA was stuck driving the Caravan in the afternoons; Mr. Ramone picked Carlos up from practice on his way home from work.
She caught up with Mikey in the sophomore hall and managed to steer him away from a group of flustered girls before his Ramone charm managed to melt them into a puddle. Evan caught up with them in the parking lot looking pissed. Apparently the principle had seen her sometime between second and third period and made her change into a pair of ratty sweats and an old Homecoming t-shirt.
Which meant they, meaning Dorothy Ann and Mikey, spent the entire ride to the Ramone's listening to how horrible and fashion backward the Walkerville High administration was. She felt like banging her head against the Caravan's nice, thick windows.
She'd managed to drop both off without much incident and after a quick chat with Mrs. Ramone, confiscated the van for a trip downtown to the library. Thankfully Mikey didn't have any plans, or she would have had to take the Focus. She hated the Focus. Besides, the van came with special parking privileges that she only ever used if she was extremely, exceptionally late. Even after fighting school traffic, she still managed to make it to the library with fifteen minutes to spare.
See, she told herself, it could be done.
Setting up in the room designated by Mr. Roberts, she was pulling her Chemistry I textbook out of her bag when the door opened and a familiar figure walked in.
"DA?"
"Ralphie, what the hell are you…oh."
Oh shit was more like it.
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Note: Well, that would be the first chapter. I'm not sure exactly how much I like it, hopefully this third revision will grow on me. It just felt…wordy, I guess. Then again, it's my first stab at MSB fanfiction, so it could just be insecurity setting in. Reviews are always nice and Chapter 2 will be all Ralphie Tennelli, POV-wise anyway.