The Warriors Chapter 1, a kickin' it fanfic

I DO NOT OWN KICKIN IT. ANY LEMONADE MOUTH REFERENCES ARE PURELY ON PURPOSE (muahahahahahaha). I DO NOT OWN LEMONADE MOUTH EITHER, OR ANY LINES OR CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THIS STORY FROM EITHER KICKIN IT OR LEMONADE MOUTH. ANY CHARACTERS YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE FROM SHOW/MOVIE ARE MINE. I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE SONGS. THIS GOES FOR ALL THE CHAPTERS, AS I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE TO REPEAT THIS DISCLAIMER.

Kim's P.O.V

"This is totally your fault, Kim."

"Shut up, Jerry!"

I slouch down in my seat. It wasn't my fault. It WASN'T.

Well. Maybe it was.

I'd just been putting up some flyers on the stupid football trophy cabinet. The flyers were advertising for a new member for our band, The Warriors. Eddie on drums, Jerry on bass, Milton on keyboard, me on vocals. We're looking for a lead guitarist and occasional vocalist. It just won't work without them.

I got caught by Principal Jennings and sent to detention. Apparently, my bandmates and best friends were 'guilty by association'.

So it is technically my fault we're sitting in a slightly smelly detention room crammed with slightly dusty instruments from the failing school music program.

Eddie is sitting twiddling his drumsticks in his fingers. Jerry is tapping his hands in a beat against his desk. Milton is doing his extra homework (he's a bit of a genius). I'm staring, eyes glazed, at the blackboard.

Suddenly, the door flies open and Principal Jennings stalks in, hauling along a teenage boy by the collar.

I straighten up and look over the boy. He's seriously cute. Tall, lean but muscular, longish brown hair, tan skin, and two little moles on his cheeks. He's wearing a Guns'N'Roses t-shirt with dark jeans, a leather jacket and a beaded leather cord necklace. Interesting.

"A new addition to your sorry lot!" Principal Jennings hisses, shoving the boy into a nearby chair before striding back out.

There are a few moments of silence while we take in this new arrival.

"Wow," the boy says after a minute. "What a dump."

"Who are you?" Jerry says outright.

"The new kid," he says. "That's why you haven't seen me around." He casts his backpack and jacket off, revealing muscular arms. I internally slap myself. Don't get distracted, Kim. Idiot.

He glances over at the instruments gathering dust and stands up, stretching his arms, muscles flexing. Goddammit, he's not making it easy. He walks over, tapping his fingers on the drums, running his hand over the old keyboard. He stops at a large red electric guitar. He picks it up, whistling softly, and plugs it into the closest speaker he can find. He sits in his old chair, positions it, and begins to play.

My jaw drifts slowly open, as does Jerry's, Eddie's and eventually Milton's when he looks up. He's fantastic. No, he's more than that. He's phenomenal. He plays the whole of 'Hit The Road Jack', including all the twiddly bits, on that old guitar. If that's what he can do with an slightly out-of-tune guitar, what can he do with a perfect one?

When he stops, he looks up absent-mindedly, like he's forgotten we're there.

"How the - "

"What - "

"Wow - !"

"Join our band!"

They all stare at me.

"Uh...what?" he says.

"Join our band," I repeat, leaning forward. "We've got a band. The Warriors."

"Oh yeah?" he says, bemused.

"Jerry's on bass," I say, gesturing to the Latino, "Eddie does drums, and Milton's on keyboard," I say, gesturing to each of my friends. "And I'm the lead singer. But we need a lead guitarist."

"Hmm," he says, "interesting offer." He thrusts a hand forward. "Jack Brewer. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Kim Crawford," I say, shaking it. "So? Will you join us?"

"Depends," he says. "Maybe we should do a practise right here, right now. There are enough instruments, right?"

I nod, and look at my bandmates. They all shrug.

"Let's do it!" I command.

Finally, when we're all ready, we stop and they all look at me. "What song, Kimmy?" Jerry asks.

"One, do NOT call me Kimmy or I will rip you limb from limb, and two, let's do Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler," I say.

"Do you just do covers?" Jack asks.

"Oh, no," I say. "We write our own. But we can see how we all work together as a band - including you - by doing something we all know."

Jack nods, understanding.

"And, one, two, three, four..."

Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler (I don't own this song)

Think the clouds are clogging up my brain
Like the weather drain same as the tears on my face
And I'm stuck up in the storm eye
I guess I'll be alright
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh oh (uh oh uh oh)
Then it hits me like
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh no (uh oh uh oh uh uh oh)

And you're that wind that swept me off my feet
Got me flying til I'm crying and I'm down on my knees
That's what Dorothy was afraid of
The sneaky tornado
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh oh (uh oh uh oh)
There's no place like home
(Uh oh uh oh)
Home (uh oh uh oh uh uh oh)

I'm boarding up the windows
Locking up my heart
It's like every time the wind blows
I feel it tearing us apart
Every time he smiles
I let him in again
Everything is fine
When you're standing in the eye of the hurricane

Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane
Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane

I'm flopping on my bed like a flying squirrel
Like a little girl hurt by the big bad world
Yeah, it's twisting up my insides
Can't hide it on the outside
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh oh (uh oh uh oh)
Yeah, it hits me like
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh no (uh oh uh oh uh uh oh)

And that's when you hold me, you hold me
You tell me that you know me, I'll never be lonely
Say we made it through the storm now
But I'm still on the look out
Oh (uh oh uh oh)
Oh oh (uh oh uh oh)
The air's getting cold
(Uh oh uh oh)
Cold

Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane
Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane

He picks me up like
He's got the way of the hurricane
And I think I'm fine like
I'm in the eye of the hurricane

And I'm floating, floating
And I don't know when, know when I'm gonna drop
He's got the way, he's got the way

Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane
Here comes the sun, here comes the rain
Standing in the eye of the hurricane

He picks me up like
He's got the way of the hurricane
And I think I'm fine like
I'm in the eye of the hurricane

Oooh ooh ooh
Oooh ooh ooh

We finish with a flourish and Jack sets his guitar down gently and claps. "Well...that was great! But...I'm not interested in joining a band."

"Oh, come on!" Jerry says. "You were awesome, yo! WE were awesome!"

"It was meant to be, Jack," I say, putting on my puppy dog eyes. "Pleaaassseee?"

"A few more rehearsals," he says after a few moments. "Later in the week. If it all goes well...maybe I'll join your band."

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