Wheeee! *waves* Hiya, everybody! Remember me? I decided to try my hand at another Newsies fic. Lemme think... this fic takes place at my old school and is narrated by good, old Bumlets! We love Bumlets. ^_^ All people mentioned who aren't in the movie are actual people. I figured I'd jump on the "present-day high school fic" bandwagon. But, I'd do it as a one-shot! YAAAAY! .... Okay, so this is really just an excuse for me to vent my opinions on popularity.... Enough babbling! *pokes self in head*
Disclaimers: If you recognize the name, they're not mine. Property-O-Disney. If you don't recognize the name, it's an actual person. So they own themselves! .... wait....
Warnings: Light slash, popularity-bashing... if that's a warning... ^_^;;;
The Game of High School: Musings of a Social Misfit
Popularity is an accident.
I don't know who said that, but, damn, were they ever right. Kids waste their entire high school lives trying to get popular. They wear what they think will make them look cool, no matter how uncomfortable it is. They see the movies that make the front page of all of the approved magazines, no matter how stupid they really think it is. The girls slather on powder and blush and lip gloss even though they know they look like circus clowns. Why? Because that's somehow become the essence of popularity.
Take that girl over there. Her name's Molly Rand, though she's known as Princess to most. Why? Nicknames are the new "in" thing, I suppose. She's queen of this school, queen of the class of 2005, and she knows it. She demanded nicknames and got them. Princess is the model of perfection here at good, old Ridgewood Prep. Straight A's, the newest fashions, you know the routine. Not to mention a total bitch. She decides who's popular and who isn't. And you can always tell the popular kids from everyone else. They've got this weird swagger going on. There's David "Walkin' Mouth" Jacobs who can take anything you say and twist around so you sound like an idiot. Laura "Ladybug" Dugas, a veritable clone of the Princess, though not as important. Roger "Swifty" Valentine, one of the greatest athletes the school's ever known. And all the others. Most of the cheerleaders, the jocks, and a select few bookworms who do everyone's homework.
There's another group at Ridgewood, too. These are the kids that spend their whole high school careers dealing with the crap that the popular kids give them in hopes that one day, maybe they'll be popular, too. Kallie "Windy" English, Felix "Snipeshooter" Dunn, Nina "Crossfire" McDaniel, and about ten or fifteen more. I don't know their names, and I have no interest in learning them. If these kids are willing to degrade themselves just to get into some high-society social circle that will completely dissolve once we get out of this hellhole, then I don't want anything to do with them.
Then, there's my group. A select few kids who have no intent of ever wasting time trying to become popular. We're everything from bookworms to band geeks to drama freaks. There's no particular term for us, and we like it that way. Kathleen, known as Sketchers. This girl can draw like no other. Damien Baxter, called Snitch by some. Hyper, goofy, and the best pickpocket I've ever seen. Ashleigh, also known as Poppyseed due to a rather interesting conversation in history. Drama freak extraordinaire and the strangest sense of humor I've ever seen. She also plays a mean clarinet. Paul, called Spot only by those who he deems worthy. He acts pretty tough for being so short, but that's all it is. An act. He's a nice guy. Stacey "Aqua" Halm, who has an obsession for all things water-related. My personal best friends, Donovan Thomas and Lucas Kerr, referred to as Specs and Dutchy by most.
And me?
The popular kids call me Rug. My friends call me Bumlets (not sure why, exactly). My parents call me Kent.
Why Rug? They say that I let people walk all over me. Bull. True, I let people make fun of me. But I let them say what they wanna say because I know, deep down, they're miserable. They're absolutely miserable. They go out to Tremors or whatever goofy teen club they decide to go to and watch us have shaving cream fights in the parking lot. And they wish that they were being chased away by the cops, covered in toothpaste and shaving cream, instead of pretending to like waving their asses to bad rap music.
Popularity comes with a price, I guess. In order to be worshipped and adored and idolized by the entire student body, you've got to give up your happiness. You've got to sacrifice everything you want to do. And every time you do or say something, there's always going to be that voice nagging in the back of your head, asking you if this is going to hurt your reputation.
I guess that we're as happy as we're gonna get. These are what people call our "wonder years." We're gonna be able to look back on our lives with our kids and grandkids and say, "Yeah, that was me. I did it all. I climbed the highest mountain, swam through Atlantic Ocean, and soared through the clouds because I felt like I could." Metaphorically speaking, of course. And I know that I've made friends for life. But, oddly enough, I don't feel totally happy. I feel like I'm missing something. At first I thought there was a little part of me that still longed to be popular. So I talked about it with everyone. And they all felt the same way.
All of them except for Specs and Dutchy.
And I think that's when I realized that that little part of me was just waiting for someone to love.
I just hope that someday, I'll find a girl that I love half as much as those two love each other.
It may sound a little weird to talk about two guys being in love with one another. But, hey, love is love. I'm not weirded out at all, and I end up doing a lot of stuff with just the two of them. The three of us have been best friends for two years. They're the brothers I never had (I'm much closer to them than my annoying little sister, Kandice). They're careful not to do anything too open around me. Or the others, for that matter. They'll only act like they're in love when they think nobody's looking. Like now. I'm chewing on a sandwich and staring at my Trig notes, but I'm really watching them. Dutchy's got his arm around Specs' shoulders and is trying to explain something Physics-related to him. Specs, on the other hand, has fallen asleep with his head buried in Dutchy's neck and one hand clutching Dutchy's shirt. Dutchy hasn't realized this and is still explaining away.
I can't help but grin.
Dutchy finally realizes that Specs is long gone and kinda half-smiles. He reaches over, slips Specs' glasses off, and places them gently on the concrete next to him. Finally, he kisses him on the forehead and returns, silently, to his Physics notes, absentmindedly toying with Specs' hair.
I fight back the urge to pretend to vomit on them. They're too sugary sweet for their own good. I settle for grinning more and shaking my head. Glancing up, I see that Snitch is watching them and grinning openly. Spot's pretending not to look and trying not to smile. It'll upset his tough-guy persona. Poppyseed and Aqua are giggling like crazy, and Sketchers is smiling that small, sweet, kinda sad smile that she gives everyone (A/N: Alliteration! Woo!).
That's another thing. The popular kids aren't allowed to get emotionally attached. Ever. There seems to be some kind of contest: whoever sleeps with the most people gets a prize! I can't even keep track of who used to date who and who goes out with who and who cheated on who. The dating history in our group is pretty simple. Specs and Dutchy have been together for almost two years, and they're probably going to stay that way until the universe collapses on itself. I went out with Aqua for a few months. Poppyseed has a massive crush on Spot and refuses to say anything. Spot's asexual. Snitch has never had a girlfriend, and doesn't really seem to care. End of story. See, dating is a big deal to us. If we decide to go out with someone, we like them. A lot. So, it's really special. The popular kids, Ladybug and Swifty being the main offenders, throw people's hearts around like they're baseballs. They don't care. They screw with other people's emotions, and screw up other people's relationships.
I feel sorry for them. I really do.
Because I know that they really wish that they could care more. That they could open themselves up and stop this whole, stupid charade. But the rules of popularity are strict like that. Hello, emotions and goodbye, reputation. That's the way things work around here.
The bell rings, loud and long, signaling the end of lunch. Specs blinks awake and immediately gropes for his glasses, stifling a yawn. I sigh and squeeze my Trig binder into my backpack, not at all prepared for the test I have next period. Poppyseed hops to her feet, snatches her bag, and begins to skip in a circle, singing in Japanese. Aqua pretends to strangle her, and Sketchers carefully places her latest drawing in her folder. As Poppyseed somehow makes her face turn purple, Spot's mask cracks for just a second, and he laughs. Snitch lets loose a victory cheer and dances in a circle around Aqua.
I just sit there, next to Specs and Dutchy, and watch them. And I realize how lucky I am to have friends like this.
Three weeks have passed. Not much has happened.
We've sort of adopted a new kid into our group. Jared Sloane; he came at half-year. We found him the trash can that Swifty and his lackeys had thrown him into. The second Dutchy touched his shoulder he jumped about ten feet in the air and knocked the can over. Thus, he's been named Skittery.
Snitch took to him immediately. They're pretty close now. I'm almost certain that they're falling for each other. They could be another Specs and Dutchy. Snitch and Skittery are good for each other. Snitch is a lot calmer around Skittery, while Skittery's a lot more open. And he smiles more often.
Aqua streaked her hair blue and got detention. She'll keep getting detention, too, until she takes the dye out. She outright refuses and plans to sue the school for stifling her individuality.
Specs and Dutchy are... Specs and Dutchy, I suppose. Always smiling, even though they've had to go through a lot lately. Both of them have had their glasses stomped on several times. Someone spray-painted the word "faggot" across Dutchy's windshield and broke all of his window. A few of the jocks cornered Specs in the parking lot last week and beat the living daylights out of him. But they're still happy. I think that they'll always be happy as long as they have each other. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. I never really believed in true love until I met these two. This is love straight out of a fairy tale. Only instead of fire-breathing dragons and sleeping spells coming in between them, they've got jocks and homophobes.
Poppyseed finally got up the nerve to tell Spot how she felt. He doesn't feel the same way, but he's glad that she told him. They're getting to be even closer than they were before. Poppyseed's pretty depressed, but she'll get over it. She's happy just being his friend. Spot's actually started to realize that he can survive without his tough-guy facade. He smiles a lot more and actually cracks jokes once and a while.
Sketchers is just as quiet as always. Even more so, I think, because she's developed a crush on one of the jocks (Vinicio "Vini" Madrigal, who also used to be my best friend until he sold out on us). She's started to live inside of her sketchbook. It's not good for her, but there's not much that we can do about it.
And me?
The Ladybug herself asked me if I would be interested in taking her to Winter Formal.
My reply?
"Shove it up your ass, Dugas."
I've never been so proud of myself. The look on her face was priceless. I'd broken the rules of the game of high school. You don't turn down one of the most popular girls in school.
But I'm tired of playing by their rules, the rules that the mainstream sets.
Like I said, nothing much has happened. Nothing that we haven't had to deal with before. We're just trying to survive this. "Wonder years" my ass. These are the hardest years of our lives. But I think that we can win this stupid game.
High school really is a game. It's a rigged game, too, and the odds aren't in our favor.
But we're not going to give up on it just because we're misfits. Misfits deserve a chance at the prize, too, even if the game is rigged against them. And we'll play twice as hard as the populars in order to get it.
We may not land careers in modeling like Princess and Ladybug. We may not end up as professional athletes like Swifty. We may not be quick-witted lawyers like the Mouth.
But whatever we end up as, we'll be happy. And that's more than I can say for the popular kids.
Sometimes, the winner of a game isn't as obvious as you may think.
"There are places I remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead, and some are living
In my life, I loved them all"
-- "In My Life," The Beatles
El Fin
This turned out... well, not the way I planned it... ^_^;;; It was supposed to be a Specs/Dutchy fic. *scratches head* I don't really like the way that this came out, and yet, I'm proud of it in a weird kind of way. I guess because it's... honest. That's the word I'm looking for. This is a very honest fic. *smiles cheerily* Erm... Ridgewood is my old school. Molly (Princess), Laura (Ladybug), Kathleen (Sketchers), Stacey (Aqua), and et cetera are all real people. Vini's a real person, too, but he's a great guy, and I apologize for making him a jerk. I also apologize for the bastardization of Swifty. ^_^;;; This is an extremely random group of newsies, and I don't know why I picked them. *shrug* Anyway... I'm not too happy with it, but reviews would be nice, anyway. *smiles and bounces off*