Hey y'all! I wrote this oneshot for miss-midget's Gone Fanfic prompt. If anyone else wants to take part, please do! It'll (hopefully) get the Gone books to have more Fanfictions, which it really does deserve. Check out her profile for more information (or mine; I'll copy and paste the information in).
Choose one prompt from each section.
Character(s): Drake Check
Item(s): Whipped cream, whoopie cushion. The whoopie cushion. And, um, I only mentioned it once in passing. Oops :P
Word(s): Duck, parakeet, and Harry Potter. I chose Harry Potter! xD
Let the games begin!
Coates Academy had a well earned reputation for being the place to dump your unwanted baggage. For starters, there were the bullies, the bullied, the depressed, the addicted, the misunderstood – and then there was Drake Merwin. He was a boy who had a whole category of messed-up specially named after him.
Drake was the most feared and equally the most hated person in the entire school, and there was nothing that the cowering masses could do to get back at him. Or at least, nothing without the help of her .
Diana Ladris was sat in the library, attempting to finish some last minute homework. She was leafing through an immensely heavy atlas, searching for the capital of Madagascar when a shadow fell over the page. She sighed pointedly, prayed it wasn't Caine and then looked up.
Two boys were staring down at her. They looked incredibly similar; both wore glasses, had messy hair and an uncomfortable expression upon seeing Diana's glare. She knew them vaguely – one was in her history class and the other had been beaten up by Drake a couple of weeks back. She couldn't imagine why they'd want to talk at her.
"Can I help you?" she snapped bluntly, hoping they'd leave her alone.
"Um, actually… yes," said the history boy. "We need your help."
Instinctively Diana looked around, checking for teachers. Occasionally the braver kids would approach her and beg her to get 'persuade' either Caine or Drake to get off their case (her power over Caine Soren was well known throughout the school). Sometimes a bargain could be worked out – if, of course, it was in Diana's interest.
"What do you want?" she asked, softening her tone slightly.
"We need your help in… in playing a prank on Drake Merwin."
Diana's eyes widened. That was the most stupid thing anyone had suggested to her all year. Putting a whoopee cushion on his chair was not worth a death threat. She half wished she had the fifth Harry Potter book handy to hit them both with – a serious threat.
"Are you crazy?" she quizzed incredulously. "Have you got a death wish? If someone pulled a prank on Drake, he'd go absolutely mad. He'd –" she cut herself off there, a mischievous grin breaking across her face.
Drake would go mad.
Perfect.
Diana clasped her hands together and leant forwards. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
Drake pursed his lips and whistled tunelessly. He was in an unusually good mood; he'd managed to scare away the newest psychiatrist, vent some anger out on an unsuspecting new kid and had not caught sight of Diana all morning. Things were just the way that he liked them to be.
The day continued without incident until Drake went to his locker.
He span the code of his lock, far away in his mind. He wondered whether –
SPLAT!
A jug of custard, which until moments ago had been leaning against the locker door, fell in slow motion, a waterfall of yellow hitting Drake. In. The. Face.
There were gasps of surprise and delight from behind him, and then a chorus of laughter. Drake, with exaggerated slowness wiped the thick yellow liquid out of his eyes, a look of pure, animalistic fury on his face. A trickle of the custard ran down his back, leaving a cold trail.
Someone was going to pay.
Another blob of custard – God, how the stuff stank – snuck down his shirt.
A very sticky Drake squelched off to find a shower as Diana looked on with a beaming smile on her face and a camera in her hands. It was time for the next step.
Drake pulled off his shirt and threw it to the floor next to his tie, not bothering to fold it. Next to his ruined uniform was another, neater pile of clothes, ready for after he'd got himself cleaned up.
Drake slid open the shower door and clambered inside before turning on the water. The hot jets washed over his body, sluicing away the gooey mess. He distracted himself by dreaming up a suitable revenge for the person responsible.
Diana crept into the bathroom, her eyes resolutely on the floor. She could hear Drake mumbling to himself in his cubicle – something about a piranha – but she had no time to loose.
She snagged the fluffy white towel off the radiator and, as silently as possible, picked up Drake's clothes, both the custard stained garments and the clean ones. She only left one thing behind.
With her mouth twisted into a smirk, Diana exited the room and shut the door behind her with a snap.
Drake's head jerked up. Was there someone else in here? He listened carefully, but all was still. Then again, he'd better get dressed anyway.
Drake opened the door and paused.
Where were his clothes?
Where was the towel?
And what, good God, was that on the floor?
Cautiously, as if he expected it to explode at any moment, Drake prodded the pile of pink material with his foot. It neither moved nor grew teeth. He turned it over and picked it up.
It was a vomit-inducing sight.
The material was made of silk, complete with bows and sparkly sequins, all of which were in a different shade of pink. Drake stared at it, frozen in horror, before dropping it and cringing away.
Someone had left him a dress.
The truth dawned on Drake slowly.
He'd either have to sprint to his room for some clothes stark naked or in a dress.
There weren't even any shower curtains he could rip down and use to cover himself with, because Coates had invested in some stupid doors. Why the hell couldn't they have saved the money and used it instead on buying proper locks?
Drake furrowed his brow, puzzling it over. Either way, this was a choice no psychopath should ever have to resort too. Running naked or in a dress… He had a muscled torso, one that he was not afraid of showing, but no way was he going to become the resident nudist. He could imagine people's faces as he made a mad dash up two flights of stairs and several hallways before reaching the safety of his dorm. What if Caine saw? Or Diana? His reputation would be over.
And so Drake did the thing he would never have imagined himself to do. He picked up the dress, hoisted it over his head and squeezed into it. It was a tight fit, but he had done it. The hem reached down to his mid thighs, and he sincerely hoped it wouldn't travel any higher as he ran.
Drake was glad the mirror was steamed up, so all that he could make out was a vivid pink blob.
The psycopath swallowed his pride, chocking on it slightly as it went down his throat, grasped the door handle and ran.
Kids stopped and stared, eyes as wide as saucers. Drake Merwin, the most feared, psychopathic student in the whole school – hell, probably in the whole of California – was running down the corridor. In a dress. Drake kept his head down, but it was obvious who he was.
The laughter burst out like water from a dam, and Drake mentally added all the bystanders onto his "people to kill" list.
Diana was waiting at the corner by Drake's room, camera in hand. Any moment now…
A blur of pink rounded the corridor, and Diana pressed the record button. Drake seemed oblivious to her, and he threw himself, face bright with embarrassment, at his dormitory room. It didn't open.
Gleefully, Diana came closer, still filming.
Drake began to bang on the door. "CAINE!" he roared. "OPEN THE FREAKIN' DOOR!" Why did the dormitories have better locks than the bathrooms? The irony.
There was a muffled shout from inside, and then Caine's head popped out. "I'm bus- what the hell are you wearing?"
Drake didn't bother answering, pushing Caine out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Caine turned to Diana and raised an eyebrow.
Drake clicked the pause button and pushed his head into his hands. Diana had managed to film him and had uploaded the video onto YouTube. "Psychopath goes wild" was an instant hit.
She was going to pay.
Et voila! Completely insane, but that's Fanfiction :)
If anyone's interested, the capital of Madagascar is Antananarivo. Just thought you ought to know.
And I'm going to do some shameless advertising now. Sorry. Okay, my cousin Megan has really low self confidence. She went to New York on a school trip and was persuaded to play the piano and sing for everyone. If anyone wants to watch it, type in "Megan usa 2011 piano", and it's the first video. She doesn't believe in herself, and doesn't take enough credit for her talents, bless her.
Anyway, that's all for now! Leave me some reviews pwease, and I'll give you a review sticker?