A/N Aloha! 'Going Forward In Reverse' is my new angst-baby and has taken shape faster than all my other fanfics - hopefully meaning it'll be good :)
This story is for my little retard happyhappyjoyjoy4 whose random musings in Math one day gave me the idea for this story, the ever lovely valentine142 who is almost as obsessed with Kendallangst as me and the EPIC TealMoose who helped me out with the first chapter :)
I may be adding a Prologue a bit later on so watch out for that :)
Disclaimer: I do not own BTR - but I claim rights to my OCs and the plot.
Going Forward in Reverse
Chapter 1 – What's in a smile?
West Duluth High was a dump. And that was the polite word for it.
A huddled block of buildings with various shades of peeling grey paint, semi-boarded up windows that never quite got fixed and endless linoleum –tiled corridors whose only purpose was to sap the souls out of every innocent freshman who dared step through the notoriously stiff doors.
It was as if God had decided to empty his ashtray on that particular spot of Little Marais; creating a vortex that sucked in anything picturesque and all sense of hope.
Lovely.
Unfortunately, the kids who rocked up there were almost as parasitic as the school itself – leeching the life out of every living being in the vicinity – illustrated beautifully by the wilted flowerbeds that lined the school grounds.
Kendall stared numbly at his locker, waiting for it all to sink in.
"And so began life in hell..."
Kendall cried out shortly as someone bashed into him from behind and he smashed his head on the shelf of his locker. He stumbled back, but was promptly caught in the side of the head as someone swung open their locker door.
"Jesus – mind your head!" A girl stuck her head round the locker door, sending him an accusatory glance as if it were his fault there was a dent in the flimsy metal.
Kendall blinked before shaking his head. "I'm fine," he gave her a rare, lopsided grin and slammed his own locker shut, wary of the broken latch.
"Hey! You're new, right?" Kendall whipped round, caught a little off guard.
"Yeah..."
The girl was regarding him with the same expression as a vulture that had just seen a particularly pathetic animal die, and was wondering whether or not it was really worth its time.
"What's your first class then?" She observed him amusedly through dark brown bangs and smoky eye make-up, smirking.
"Uh...Math, Room 18..."
"Do you know where that is?" She was using a patronizing tone envy to a kindergarten teacher, eyebrow raised as if she were talking to a two-year-old inclined to play in the traffic.
"No..."
The girl sighed in mock exasperation and shut her locker, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "C'mon then. Same class as me." She marched past him, but stopped and looked back expectantly.
"What's your name?"
"Uh, Kendall, Kendall Knight."
"Nice, I'm Mizzy."
Kendall was pleasantly surprised. "What's that short for?" Mizzy looked at him as if he'd just grown an extra head. "Mizzy." She gave a reproachful look that clearly said 'you're so stupid, I pity you.'
Kendall shrugged and followed her down the corridor, blanching when he saw a puddle of sick next to the toilets with a 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign planted squarely in it.
"Drugged bastards," Mizzy muttered, using the thick folds of her scarf as a make-shift breathing mask. Kendall wondered why she was wearing quite such a thick scarf – Minnesota was cold in mid-autumn, but not so much a scarf was necessary, and certainly not indoors. He shrugged it off – marking it as another thing he would probably never understand in this town.
When they finally reached Room 18, the lesson had already started – an incomprehensively dull looking teacher writing meaningless squiggles masquerading as mathematics on the board; his monotonous explanatory drawl a soothing lullaby for the back row.
Mizzy marched in without hesitation or even a timid, apologetic nod, smirking at the teachers bemused expression.
"Miss West. Care to explain why you're ten minutes late to my lesson, and why there is a young man trying to hide behind you?" A ripple of laughter broke through the class.
Mizzy, without so much as a glance behind her, stamped Kendall's foot with her spike-heeled stiletto, smirking yet again as he winced.
"I smashed newbie with my locker, he was in this class, he didn't know where he was going – it's my good deed for the day or some of that 'neighbour' crap – I dunno," she announced nonchalantly, as if she were announcing a sudden inconsequential change in the weather, idly studying a chip in her red nail polish.
The teacher sighed and waved his hand vaguely.
"Go sit down. Both of you." Mizzy slumped down in a seat near the front next to a pretty black girl with long braids sweeping around her shoulders and immediately engaged in an avid conversation – possibly noting the tragic combination of corduroy chinos, nylon shirt and maroon sweater vest their teacher had seen fit to wear that morning.
Kendall nervously scanned the rows until he saw an empty desk right near the back of the room. He was glared at; scrutinized by a class of people who'd all mastered the art of speaking out of their corner mouths while simultaneously giving the evil eye – multitasking Kendall knew he'd never achieve as he nervously shuffled down the aisle, steadily blushing.
He finally reached the vacant desk and sat, eyes darting around, looking for an almost inevitable threat.
He did not have to look far.
A huge meaty fist slammed down on his desk, and he flinched.
"Alright, newbie?" The low grunt in his ear was menacing and Kendall automatically tensed up in fear cowering in his seat.
Just another confirmation that Math was not his favourite subject.
-BTR-
Kendall practically ran out the lesson, eager to get away. His own irrational (or so he hoped) fear carried him onwards, until he ended up sprinting down endless grey corridors; trapped in a labyrinth of chewing-gum covered linoleum. Panting, he tried to identify his surroundings.
He had absolutely no idea where he was.
A second later a fist wrapped round the back of his neck and he was rammed into the wall, wincing as he felt new bruises instantly forming.
"Thought you could just run away, newbie?"
The threat was grunted in his ear, followed by a chorus of raucous laughter.
"Uh," before he could even begin a coherent answer, Kendall's face slammed into the wall as a punch was aimed at the back of his neck. Bright white spots danced across his vision.
"Oi, dickheads!" The grip round Kendall's neck slackened and he tumbled to the floor as Mizzy marched down the corridor, stepping right up to Kendall's assailant, brandishing nothing other than a fork.
"This fork. Your eye. Three seconds. Go."
The group laughed, but their leader gulped, eyes flickering nervously.
"Do you remember what happened to your balls last time, Milligan?" she smirked, with a nauseatingly sweet tone of voice. "Run along now boys, if you want to be able to walk for a week."
With nervous glances, the group backed off, going down the corridor at double speed of their usual menacing lope.
"Hey." Kendall looked up to see Mizzy watching him in careless amusement. "You in one piece?" Kendall nodded numbly.
Mizzy sighed and held out a hand, hauling him to his feet.
"Why...why d-did you do that?" Kendall stuttered, gaping at her in astonishment.
"Because I don't appreciate people getting beaten up unless I do it. And plus, the look on those meathead's faces is priceless." Mizzy sighed and glared at him. Your face is all messed up. What're parents gonna say when you come home beat?"
"Saves me effort?" Kendall muttered inaudibly, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.
"Eh?"
"Nothing..."
"Okay then..." Mizzy looked at him suspiciously before turning to leave.
"Um, Mizzy? Where are the science labs?" Mizzy laughed without looking back at him.
"Look behind you," she called, and Kendall knew she had that smirk on her face. He turned round and realised with a feeling of complete idiocy that Lab 4 was right behind him.
"Cheers,"
"No problem," Kendall watched her leave, trying to hide the blush steadily creeping up his cheeks.
How embarrassing.
-BTR-
Kendall looked round the lunch hall in stunned bewilderment as hoards of slavering teenagers fell on greasy hamburgers with the same avid fervour as a pack of rabid wolves. He was seriously considering making a break for it and hiding in his locker when someone pulled at his elbow.
"Newbie! Wake up! You're blocking the lunch queue!" Mizzy glared at him through heavy mascara—laden eyelashes, before sighing in exaggerated exasperation and dragging him over to where surly dinner ladies were dishing out the muck McDonalds rejected; each chip falling onto the plate with a squelch worthy of a runny blancmange.
After being 'served' (if you could call a grunt and the food lobbed in your general direction 'service') a slice of pizza which left a greasy smear across the cheap plastic plate, Mizzy guided Kendall over to a table near the back of the hall.
"Hey, Mizzy!" A Latino with crushing enthusiasm was obviously having difficulties staying in his seat, given he was bouncing up and down like he'd swallowed a firework, or at least a double espresso.
Mizzy looked a little pained as she sat down next to him. "Carlos, this is Kendall. Kendall, Carlos," She muttered wearily, waving her hands in their vague direction.
Before Kendall could even attempt an awkward 'hi', Carlos grinned, "Mizzy, I didn't know you had a brother!"
Mizzy and Kendall looked at each other, then at Carlos, then both raised an eyebrow.
"We. Are. Not. Related," They stated in perfect synchronization, before looking at each other, unnerved. Carlos giggled. "But you look so…"
Mizzy lunged at him, holding her flimsy plastic knife to his throat. "Finish that sentence, Garcia, and you'll get extra special red sauce on those chips," She hissed in his ear, and the Latino gulped audibly.
"So, Newbie. You play any sports?" Mizzy asked casually and Carlos rubbed his neck and shuffled away on his seat slightly.
"Er…"
"Cos if you do, make them know fast. Save yourself from a lot of lunchtimes spent in the nurses' office."
"I-I play ice-hockey."
Mizzy smirked at him in mock approval. "Ooh, very nice. Go sit with all the jocks then." Despite her amused face, there was no humor in her eyes.
"Huh?"
Mizzy did that sigh again, clearly a girl of few expressions, or at least few she wished to use. "If you've got something that will make life any easier, you use it. Go on." She jerked her head to the right.
Uncertainly, Kendall picked up his lunch tray and picked his way through the myriad of tables to the throne (3 tables pushed together) from where the jocks dominated the social hierarchy in the middle of the room.
Nervously, he stood at the head of the table.
"Uh, hi, I'm K-Kendall. I-I'm new here."
A blond in a hockey sweater observed him with amusement. "Oh yeah, the little freak from math. How ya doin'?"
Kendall felt his cheeks increasingly red under their judgmental gazes.
The jock leered at him with glee. "You know what I think? I think 'K-Kendall'," his voiced an octave and mimicked Kendall's stuttering tone, "Needs to learn where he fits in at this school." The others started laughing – reminding Kendall instantly of the hyenas from The Lion King. The movie was one of his little sister Katie's favorites, and he'd spent too many afternoons watching it with her.
People from other tables were craning their necks to see the poor deluded kid about to face social humiliation. Slowly, the guy who was clearly some kind of leader stood up, holding a milkshake taken from the scantily-clad cheerleader sitting on his right. The whole cafeteria went silent. The jock tipped his hand, and it was then, a little delayed, Kendall worked out was going to happen.
Just as the first few pink spatters landed on his T-shirt, the sound of heels clacking on linoleum was unnaturally loud in the eerie silence and the milkshake was dashed out of the bully's hand.
"You jerks", Mizzy spat, 5"8 of complete seething fury. "Who does that?" Getting over the initial shock, the jock regained his composure.
"Hey, Mizz, what're hanging out with losers like that for? Come sit with us?" he snaked his arm round her waist, pulling her in towards him, practically groping her cleavage.
With a well-placed elbow, there was a crack as the hockey player's nose snapped, spraying blood across Mizzy's arm.
Without another word, she put her hands on Kendall's shoulders and gently propelled him towards the door. They were almost out of the room when the cheerleader whose boyfriend was clutching his bleeding face screeched, "You dirty slut!"
The cafeteria fell into silence, as Mizzy turned on a red patent heel.
"Yes, but at least I don't need a calculator to check how many boys I've slept with! Hey, why don't you roll your skirt up a bit more, I don't think everyone in the hall can see your panties yet!" Mizzy retorted, sarcasm lacing her words with a knife edge. Grabbing Kendall's elbow, she dragged him out of the room, down the corridor and into the locker room, where she promptly slammed the door.
"Okay, I appreciate that was mean of me…and really stupid – I was joking, alright? Look, this ain't gonna be easy. And it's not so great that they think you're a freak. I mean like, take Carlos, yeah? Kid's a bundle of energy and wears a helmet all the time. One of the best hockey players I've ever seen. They won't let him on the team because the captain managed to convince the coach that he was crazy. They used to make his life complete hell in the 6th grade and he's gonna be stuck with the outs until he graduates."
"The outs?"
"The outs. Yeah. People who don't have their own happy little clique. If you don't fit in – you're an out. Kind of a crap name. They didn't come up with it. Think that was some of Brianne's work. But yeah, bad for you – I'm the first person you talked to and you're stuck with me now!"
"Is that a bad thing?" Mizzy looked at him incredulously.
"Look, half the kids in this school think I'm some kind of whore – the other half think I'm gonna snap one day and kill them all."
"Why…"
"The whole violence thing – well, you've seen me in action," she offered him a rueful smile, "And the slut thing? That's what happens when you wear revealing T-shirts and get fancied by other girls' boyfriends. Some jealous bitch has been spreading rumors since 8thgrade." Mizzy sighed and fiddled with the hem of her skirt.
After an idle silence, Mizzy eyed the front of Kendall's white T-shirt suspiciously. "What're gonna do about the smoothie stains?" Kendall blushed at the pink splatters. "You look like a unicorn threw up on you. Dump it and do up the shirt."
Kendall stared at her stupidly.
"Go on, take it off! I'll try not to perv." She sighed when he blushed and made a twirling motion with his hand. "Jesus," she muttered as she turned round. Kendall tugged off the T-shirt and did up the plaid shirt he had been wearing over it.
He held out the stained garment nervously. "Do I wash it then?"
Mizzy looked at him in appalled astonishment. "Please say you know how to work a washing machine."
"Yes…"
"Well…erm… yeah, just wash it."
Chapter 2 is still at the notebook stage - and as I go back to school in a few days T_T it will take at least three days to go up :/
PLEASE REVIEW - reviews are like coffee on a Monday morning :)