Saturday
Work Detail
By Dizzy (DizzyGirl85@carolina.rr.com)
Disclaimer:
Don't Own 'Em.
Genre:
Foof
Authors
Notes: I was watching "The Breakfast Club" today. Twice actually, and
I decided to write this. Someone a long time ago asked me to do a fic dealing
with it and I hadn't seen the movie. It's one of my favorites now and I decided
to do it. It's nothing but pure foof. Which is pretty much all you'll be
getting from me while I work on my two epic fics that will be coming soon. It's
long foof though. And AU. (Alternate Universe) No alien powers, but pretty much
the same personalities and it's totally CC. Mostly M&M, as they're my
couple of choice, but everyone else makes an appearance.
***
All the
political causes in the world weren't worth this, Maria DeLuca decided, pushing
open one of the large double doors. Freedom or no freedom, Saturday Work Detail
was too much of a price to pay for standing up against oppression. She was
losing a day's paycheck for this, a paycheck that could have gone into the
Maria DeLuca Wardrobe Fund.
It was bad
enough that this was an all day affair, lasting from 8:30 till 3:30, but on a
Saturday? Saturdays were for relaxation. For sleeping in till 12 and only
rolling out of bed to change into the horrible uniforms of the Crashdown and
work until 7. Saturdays were for movie dates with adorable Juniors named
Bradley Gleason and phone conversations till 2 with your best friend. Saturdays
were not for wasting away in an empty school building with the best slackers
and delinquents West Roswell High had to offer. Only to make up your missed
shift by working from 5 till closing. Having to cancel your date with the
delicious basketball player of your dreams and have your phone taken away by
your outraged mother who, in her day at least, had never served one Saturday
detention. Although she had been arrested on more then one occasion for HER
escapades as a political rights activist. It was bringing that offense up that
had gotten the phone taken away in the first place.
The
library smelled of dust and mildew. The horrible old lady perfume of Ms.
Blackwelder, the library Nazi, and the tangy walnut smell of books. It was
large and oppressive, entirely too quiet for outspoken Maria's tastes. The
entire first portion was comprised of tables, 8 in all, two tables in each row,
facing the front, separated from 8 more identical tables by two long 4 foot
high shelves of encyclopedias. Then beyond that was the first level of musty
books, separated by subject. Political Sciences, English Literature, World
Literature, Holocaust, World History, and American History, the list went on
and on. The winding stairs from the first level that started just behind the
checkout desk with its computers, went to the second level, where the older,
stinkier books were kept, and where the school's files were housed in the large
windowed room, always locked, the blinds kept down. As well as the old card
catalog with it's ends upon ends of tiny drawers. Behind the stinky books was
the computer section, the wall lined with 20-something computers, all old and
slow things used only for locating books.
At the
tables they sat, six of them. Quiet and rigid, all wondering what exactly went
on in Saturday Work Detail, having never been there before. She knew them all,
she went to school with them every day, shared classes with them, ate lunch
with them, and she couldn't have been more surprised.
At the
first table sat prim and perfect Isabel Evans, her honey blonde hair swept up
in delicate girl's style, too extravagant for a Saturday. Her makeup was flawless,
her clothes expensive and unwrinkled. She was working on her manicure, which
was already gorgeous, filing her shapely nails with a pale pink file.
Behind
her, at the next table was Tess Harding, her blonde hair dyed to match
Isabel's. Her clothes could have been taken straight from Isabel's laundry
basket. She was talking in low, hissing whispers, gossiping about a fellow
cheerleader no doubt, smiling at the comments Isabel occasionally made and
soaking in every bit of the goddess's inner light. She was a suck-up, and
nothing more then a crony. But a nice one. She smiled at Maria as she came in
and Maria returned it, her eyes moving past Tess to the boy sitting beside
Isabel.
Kyle
Valenti was quiet the legend as well. Perfectly toned and beautiful, he was the
sports superstar of the school. Captain of the basketball, football, and
wrestling teams. All State god only knows how many times and the pride and joy
of West Roswell. His eyes were trained on what was probably Playboy, already
half asleep, if he had ever woken up.
Across the
tiny aisle at the next table came the bigger surprises. Alex Whitman, King of
the Computer Geeks, sat there in all his nerd glory, bent over a book. He
looked up, smiling at her, and she returned it, remembering the time she had
tried to bury him under the sandbox in 1st grade, only to find to her dismay it
had a wooden bottom, that not even the toughest shovel would break through. So
she had made do by dumping sand on his head. He helped her in Algebra 2,
usually opting to do the work rather then waste hours trying to explain it to
her math challenged brain.
Next to
him, an even bigger shock, was Max Evans. Mr. Perfection. Max was smart,
handsome, with those gorgeous soulful looks that girls dreamed about. He was
deep and insightful, tall and muscular. All-American demi-god. He was like a
Teen Beat model, the kind you ripped out of magazines and hung on your walls
when you were thirteen. Kissing it every night before you went to bed. He was
sweet and kind, a sympathetic ear to anyone in trouble. She used to be in love
with Max, like every other girl, drawn to his sweet nature and his silent
disposition, but she quickly got over that as their friendship grew. Max wasn't
her type. He was too quiet, too deep for her, he made too much sense. He was
too perfect. He was just what her other best friend Liz needed. He looked up,
flashing her a dashing grin, all white pearly teeth. A grin that usually set
hearts aflutter and he motioned to a seat behind him.
Maria
almost fainted. Liz Parker, her best friend in the world, the Saint of West
Roswell High. The girl who had never even thought of breaking a rule was
sitting in the seat next to the seat he had motioned to. Her mouth dropped open
and Liz blushed. Elizabeth Parker was an institution in West Roswell. Her GPA
was a perfect 4.0 and had been since forever. She never got less then an A and
her permanent record was immaculately clean. She was sweet and virginal, prim
and proper. She respected the teachers, joined in all the academic clubs, as
well as some of the social. She was considered by one and all to be the high
school equivalent of Mother Teresa. She volunteered at the local hospital, held
a Saturday job at the Animal Shelter, and was a well-known face around the town
as her father owned the only hangout in Roswell, the Crashdown, where Maria had
worked since the young age of 14. More importantly, she hadn't even mentioned
this detention to her best friend since birth. Despite the fact that Maria had
been complaining since receiving the referral on Wednesday.
Scandalized
and betrayed, Maria sat down, glaring at her friend, who looked at her
apologetically. Maria looked at Max. "Did you know about this?"
He
shrugged, shaking his head.
"Liz!
How? When? Why didn't you tell me?" She hissed, trying not to squeal.
"I
just found out yesterday." Liz said.
"And
my mother wouldn't let me call you to tell you."
Maria
nodded, understanding. She too was the victim of a phone privilege-revoking
mother. She wrapped an arm around her friend, giving her a squeeze. "Not a
problem, chica. What did you do?" she asked.
Liz
blushed. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.
Hurt,
Maria looked to Max, who was blushing too, looking away.
"Why
are you here?" He blushed deeper, looking down. "I'm sorry
Maria..."
"You
won't tell me either?" Maria squealed. "Has the world reversed
itself? Are all laws of nature reversing themselves? First the school's model
students are given detention, and now they won't tell their best friend WHY?
I'm hurt," Maria said dramatically, putting a hand over her heart.
"Right here." She patted the spot.
"I'll
tell you why I'm here, Maria," Alex Whitman turned around, blue eager eyes
begging for attention. For recognition.
Maria
sighed, giving him a long-suffering look. "And why are you here,
Alex?" she cupped her chin in her palm, trying to appear the picture of
interest.
"I
put super glue in Ms. Baker's chair."
He grinned
proudly and Maria blinked, and eyebrow raised. "Why?"
Alex
shrugged, closing the book in front of him. "I was bored."
Maria
blinked again. "So you glued a teacher to her chair?"
He nodded.
"Okay..."
Maria looked at Liz, not sure of what to say.
"Anyway,"
she said, trying to change the subject. "Are you ever going to tell
me?" she asked.
Liz
nodded. "Eventually, it's just...not right now, okay, Maria?" Liz
motioned around the room, exchanging a look with Max that went unnoticed by her
friend.
Maria
nodded. "Hush-Hush stuff, huh?" Maria grinned. "Highly
anticipating this one, girly."
Liz was
spared further comment by the sharp slamming of the doors and the heavy
thudding of boots on the carpeted floor.
Maria
looked up, startled. "Finally," she said, glaring at the boy.
"Someone who BELONGS here."
Michael
Guerin, juvenile delinquent extraordinaire, future America's Most Wanted
candidate himself, strolled in. His hands shoved deep in that ridiculous
leather jacket of his, scruffy and uncombed. His pale brown hair was wild,
sticking up in every conceivable direction. His jeans looked clean, but looks
could be deceiving, and his tight black shirt was probably in the same
condition.
Michael
was a pariah. He had no friends it seemed, and he was most often seen leaning
against some wall scowling at all that passed. He was rarely in school before
lunch, and the classes he did grace with his presence were glum affairs full of
sarcastic comments and bitter commentary. He was smart but failing, and he was
called to the office more then any other boy at West Roswell. He had somehow managed
to be in pretty much every class she had since Freshman year and though she had
never had a friendly conversation with the boy, their frequent battles didn't
exactly move her to start. It only made sense that he be here. He was probably
booked for every Saturday from now until retirement. He glared at her and she
returned it.
"I
think you have the wrong room," he snapped. "Charm School's down the
road, Princess."
She
ignored the comment, turning to Liz. "See, Lizzie? Me and you, we don't
belong here," she looked to Michael. "He splits his time between here
and the garbage heap behind the hardware store."
Michael
plopped into a seat at the table across the aisle, propping his feet on the
wood. He didn't even look at her, refusing to acknowledge her presence, which
was infuriating to say the least.
The door
slammed again, and the pinched, wrinkled face of blue haired Ms. Blackwelder
appeared, disgruntled as always. "You're all on time," she said, clipboard
in hand, her hair pulled in a tight no nonsense bun, her eyes hard as nails.
"That's good. But it won't earn you any points."
She looked
at the clipboard. "DeLuca," she snapped.
Maria
raised a hesitant hand.
"Evans."
Both of
the Evanses said here, Isabel still filing her nails, Max respectful and
courteous as always.
"Harding."
Tess
flashed a smile at the cold woman and said her here's, which Ms. Blackwelder
ignored.
"Guerin."
Michael
gave a grunt.
The woman
took that as an affirmative, and moved on. "Whitman."
Alex
raised his hand. "Here."
"Valenti."
Kyle
nodded his here, cool as a cucumber.
She
slammed the clipboard on the table, causing Isabel to jump and almost ruin her
filing. "Welcome to Saturday Work Detail," the woman snapped. "I
hope you deviants find it to your enjoyment." She snatched at the file.
"Let's get a few rule straight," she said, snapping the small pink
board in half. "This is not beauty school, Ms. Evans, and I will not have
you spending your day perfecting your appearance, " she snapped. "In
a few minutes you will be assigned to a janitor, who you will assist for 3
hours until lunch."
She began
to pace, reminding Maria very much of a Nazi soldier. Her nickname was well
deserved. "You will do EXACTLY what they tell you to do, when they tell
you to do it. Any opposition will be dealt with by me. You were instructed to
bring your lunches and you will eat your lunch when I say so, not before. After
lunch you will serve the remainder of your term doing whatever task I instruct
you to do, until 3:30, when you will be released to do whatever it is
delinquent teens do nowadays." The woman stopped pacing, glaring at them.
"Is that clear?"
Michael
raised an eyebrow. "Yes, drill sergeant," he replied, and the woman
began to walk down the aisle, the stench of her perfume traveling with her, her
eyes cold and angry.
"Let's
get one thing clear, Mr. Guerin. I will not tolerate your usual bad attitude
this time. If you continue to display it I will be forced to sign you up for
next week as well."
Michael
flashed her a smile. Rare and startling though it was, Maria saw it was tinged
with sarcasm. "Anything to see your gorgeous face, Ms. Blackwelder."
The woman
sniffed, ignoring him as she turned her attention to the four janitors that had
entered the library.
First was
Phyllis. Always smiling, Phyllis with her sweet disposition could be no less
then 60 years old, but had the energy of someone Maria's age. Her toothless
grin was enough to make most anyone smile. Next to her stood her son, known
simply as Jack. He shared his mother's sweet disposition and kindness, and he
had inherited her smile as well, except his had pearly white teeth. Then came
Charlotte, a young mid-twenties woman who swore up and down she was going to
marry a rather famous rapper right after she settled her suit against McDonalds
that dealt with an accident with a fry vat. And then came Mary, the redneck
fortuneteller who didn't seem to care about anything the students around her
did. If a kid was smoking, Mary was known to light up with them. Maria loved
all the janitors, and made a point to say hi to them whenever she saw them.
They all smiled at her in recognition, mothering Phyllis's smile tinged with a
little disapproval.
"DeLuca
and Guerin," Ms. Blackwelder snapped. "Front and center. You'll be
going with Mary."
Maria
opened her mouth in protest, but the woman's cold eyes stopped her. She glared
at Michael, who returned the glare.
"Whitman
and Isabel Evans will be with Charlotte."
Alex sat
up straight with happiness, looking at Isabel with something akin to worship.
She sighed, rolling her eyes as if being paired with him was some burden.
"Harding
with Valenti. You'll have Jack."
This news
wasn't so shocking. Ever since the death of Tess's foster father a year ago she
had been staying with the Valenti's, the sheriff being a good friend of his.
They were often seen together, usually at the grocery store, or having dinner
at the Crashdown, and they tolerated each other on a daily basis.
"And
Parker and the other Evans," the woman said. "Obviously with
Phyllis."
Liz
blushed bright red, ducking her head to hide it, and Maria could see the faint
blush on Max's cheeks as well. It was highly suspicious, but she, too caught up
in her misery at being paired with the bane of her existence, was too busy to
care at the moment.
"Go,"
the woman snapped. "Shoo. I'll deal with you later."
And she
waddled off to her office to wallow in her own misery.
Maria
stood up with the rest of them, falling behind Michael, who was muttering
angrily to himself. "Figures," he was saying. "I would get stuck
with her...I mean, who else was worthy enough to make this day hell?"
Maria
glared at the back of his ill-groomed head. "I'm not happy about this
either," she snapped. "Anything involving you pretty much guarantees
that."
"And
anything involving you pretty much guarantees I'll rip some of my hair out by
the end of this day."
"At
least comb it afterwards," she growled.
Mary
watched the two of them bicker down the aisle, handing them each gloves as they
reached her. "This should be entertaining," she said, smiling at
them. "I take it you aren't fond of each other?"
The two
snorted, the only thing they seemed to agree on was their mutual hate of each
other.
She
grinned. "Very entertaining."
***
Isabel
Evans had no idea who Alex Whitman was. The only thing she knew about the boy
was that he was tall and lanky, his baggy clothes giving her no clue about the
body underneath it. And the clothes themselves were horrors alone. His shirt
was buttoned too high, up to his neck, his jeans were baggy, and he owned one
of those horrible wallet chains. His eyes followed her everywhere, and he was
practically drooling for love of her. If there was one thing Isabel had learned
to recognize was an admirer, and Alex Whitman looked like he was practically
the president of her fan club.
He was
smart too. He had that nerd boy look about him, and the fact that she had never
heard his name before should have clued her in. He seemed familiar, probably in
a class of hers, but at the same time he had one of those disappear into the
crowd faces.
"Alex,"
he held out a hand.
Never
before had Isabel Evans been approached in this manner. She stared at his
outstretched hand for a moment before hesitantly putting her own in it. He
shook it vigorously.
She raised
an eyebrow. "Isabel Evans," she said and he nodded.
"I
know who you are."
She
nodded. He really was a fan. She smiled a little, maybe this day would be
interesting after all.
***
Kyle and
Tess gave each other a small smile. The day wouldn't be so bad. At least they
were stuck with someone familiar. Though Tess would have rather been paired
with Isabel. She was happy though. Kyle, though familiar, was better than any
of the other nameless people in the room. Hell, they lived together, they were
familiar faces. They were comfortable together.
"What
did Dad give you for this?" Kyle asked.
Tess
shrugged. "Nothing."
Kyle
raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
She
nodded. "You didn't tell him huh?" She shook her head and he nodded.
"Me
either."
"If
he asks I took you shopping," she said.
"For
what?"
"Aromatherapy
candles."
"Dammit,
Tess," he snapped.
She
shrugged. "It was the first thing that popped in my head!"
"Next
time lean towards the masculine aspects of the mall. Like the sporting
outlet."
She
wrinkled her nose. "The sporting outlet? Like I would be caught dead in
there."
"It's
better than smelly candles."
"I
thought you were all into the Buddha thing now. Smelly candles should be your
thing now."
Kyle's
eyes opened wide in horror. "Will you shut up!"
She smiled
and walked towards Jack.
***
Max
sighed, looking at his partner. "You shouldn't be here," he said,
sighing.
"Neither
should you," she whispered back.
"But
your record."
She smiled
at him. "Mr. Simpson assured me this wouldn't go on our permanent
record."
"But
you have to be here all day."
"So
do you."
"But
it's my fault."
She
shrugged, smiling. "It's just as much mine," she replied.
They
walked slowly, taking their time.
"I'm
sorry just the same."
She smiled
up at him. "Do you mind if I tell her?" she looked towards her
friend.
"She'll
find out sooner or later. And if we don't tell her she'll never talk to us
again." He grinned.
She
nodded. "We'll tell her later, tonight."
He agreed.
"At work."
"At
work."
***
"Don't
hold the bag so high," Maria snapped, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she
titled the stinking garbage can, dumping it out into the bag Michael held open.
"Don't
dump the garbage so low," he retorted.
"You're
so immature," she snapped bitterly, setting the garbage can down where she
found it, beside Mr. Petrozki's desk, and going for the second one.
"What
does he keep in here?" she said, disgusted, the smell invading her nose.
"And
you are so annoying," he snapped back, lowering the bag so she could dump
the trash in.
"Annoying!
If anyone is annoying it's you. I mean, listen to you," she said. "If
you're not insulting me you're saying something completely negative. Can't you
be positive for once?" she snapped. "Show a little optimism!"
"We
can't all be perfectly cheerful like you," he replied and turned, walking
out.
"You're
impossible, you know that? Here I am TRYING to help you out and you blow me
off!"
He turned.
"Trying to help me? Is THAT what you're doing?" He moved to the next
room, waiting patiently for her to get to the garbage cans.
"Maybe
if you weren't so.anti-social you wouldn't be...the way you are," she
wrenched up the can, shifting the papers inside.
"And
what way is that?" he snapped, not sounding the least bit interested in
the way he was.
She dumped
the garbage. "You know. Broody. You're always scowling, and snapping at
people. Maybe if you TRIED to be friendly you might have a nicer
personality."
"Because
God knows that's what I live for," he said sarcastically. "I want to
be a joiner."
"It's
better than being a glowering, fuming bundle of rebellion," she replied.
"I'd
rather be a glowering bundle of 'rebellion' than a perky bouncy little sheep
who follows around whoever dresses the best and has the best insights into the
minds behind Seventeen."
Maria
glared at him, slamming the can down. "You're impossible!"
"And
you're a whiny little brat."
Maria
whirled stalking out, Michael following her to the next room.
***
Isabel sat
there watching as Alex swept the disgusting floor of the cafeteria. Humming a
song under his breath while she sat there, staring at her reflection in the
glass of a window. Messing with her hand.
It wasn't
so bad being with Alex. He was so in love with her he hadn't even asked her to
help. He had taken charge immediately, taking the broom and setting to work,
telling her he would handle it.
This was
working out perfectly. There was no way Isabel Evans was going to pick up a
broom and attempt to do manual labor. It was unseemly. It was gross even to
think about sweeping up the awful food and trash the skeezy students of West
Roswell threw on the floor. She wasn't made for manual labor. She might break a
sweat. And she had never lifted a broom in her life. That's what her mother was
for. And boys like Alex Whitman.
Since he
was doing all the work and the silence was killing the usually very social
Isabel, she decided to do him a favor by starting up a conversation.
"So
what do you do in your spare time?" she asked, leaning forward slightly to
appear interested in him. She fluttered her eyes. If she turned on the charm
there was no telling what he would do.
Alex
turned red, looking away from her. "Um...computer stuff mostly. I work for
this website design company now. Good money."
Boring,
Isabel thought. She was a practice pro at this kind of thing, pretend to be
interested, nodding occasionally, making little noises of approval once in
awhile, and they thought they had you in the palm of their hands.
"I
play guitar and I have a band."
Isabel sat
up. "A band?" she asked.
"Yeah,
well, we don't have a singer yet but I was thinking of asking Maria."
The name
sounded familiar, Isabel searched her brain. "Oh! Maria, the short blonde
one, right? Kinda loud, really chipper?"
He nodded.
"She has an amazing voice. She was in this talent show. Sung 'Don't Cry
for Me Argentina'. It was great."
Isabel
nodded. "Are you good at guitar?"
He
shrugged. "I guess. Pretty good for a self-taught guy."
"No
lessons?"
So there
was some kind of personality to this puppy. He had a hobby. A rather
interesting hobby at that. A band.
He shook his
head. A sleek geek. "Can't afford 'em."
A sleek
poor geek. She nodded, turning to her nail polish, starting to chip the pretty
pink.
"I
was never into music," she said, shrugging. "I tried the flute, but
pursing your lips that way gives you wrinkles."
Alex
stopped sweeping and she looked up. He was staring at her, and she shifted
under his scrutiny. "What do you like?"
Isabel
shrugged. "I'm pretty busy," she said. "I don't really have time
for personal hobbies."
"There's
nothing? No form of expression?" He smiled sadly as she shook her head.
"Maybe you'll find something. Everyone should have something."
She stared
at him as he continued sweeping, confused.
***
Tess ran
the rag over the board, wiping away the week's worth of chalk. Kyle was across the
room, wiping off desks.
"Tonight's
your night to cook," she reminded him absently. "And I don't feel
like grilled cheese again."
"Pigs
in a blanket it is," he said, scrubbing at a name scrawled in pencil.
Cynthia. Below that there was a heart. Loves. And then Jason. Cynthia Loves
Jason 4-ever. Kyle scoffed. Yeah sure, Cynthia and Jason were probably as
permanent as the writing he had just wiped away.
"Why
don't you learn how to cook real food?" Tess asked.
"Because
that would involve that learning thing I don't do so well," he replied,
moving to the next desk. "Remember, dumb jock speaking."
"You're
not so dumb," she said, moving down the board.
"My
report card begs to differ," he replied.
"If
you'd just pay attention in class and attempt your homework," she said.
"I'd
still fail and feel even stupider," he snapped.
"I
could help you," Tess said, looking at him. "Tutor you, I
guess."
"Won't
that interrupt your busy social life?" he said sarcastically.
"Wouldn't want to interfere in your Isabel shadow stalker time."
She glared
at him. "Fine. Forget I asked." She turned back to the board.
Kyle
looked up, guilt rising in his chest. "But if you really want to," he
said softly. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad."
She didn't
say anything, just continued to wipe the board.
"Tess,
I'm serious. I want you to tutor me." Kyle said. "I have to keep my
grades up anyway. Or I'm off the team."
Tess
paused. "I'll help," she said, and he smiled.
"Thanks."
Tess
shrugged, sighing. "It's what I'm here for."
***
"So
how long you two been a couple?" Phyllis asked, tying up the garbage bag
and hoisting it up over the large dumpster. Max and Liz looked at each other,
blushing.
"Well..."
"We're..."
"Not
really..."
"A
couple," they said and blushed deeper, looking down.
Phyllis
grinned. "Nonsense! I could smell it the moment I saws you two. I'm
guessing it's some big secret," Phyllis put a finger to her toothless
mouth. "Well, honeys, I wouldn't tell a soul. Don't got no one to tell but
Jack, and he won't care much." She smiled to herself. "I remember
when me and my Henry were young. We were a lot like the two of you. Quiet,
soft-spoken. Best friends. God, how I loved him," Phyllis rambled on about
Henry, not noticing the red-faced teens in her midst.
"Lord,
when that man proposed it was the happiest day of my life." She tied
another bag, tossing it in. "Course, we were a mite young," she said
rambling on. "But Henry insisted, and of course, I wouldn't deny him anything."
She tied another bag. "Course you two have more opportunities than me and
Henry had. The both of you sure are smart." She grinned. "Sweet as
sugar too." Liz ducked her head, she couldn't get any redder.
"What
happened to Henry?" Max asked.
Phyllis's
smile faltered. "Henry was a sick man. Cancer. We couldn't pay all them
bills so me and Henry decided it would be best to just let it run its
course." She turned away to toss in another bag. "Jack is the
spitting image of his father. And he keeps me going. I didn't have time to be
sad what with Jack to look after." She smiled. "So don't let
embarrassment keep you two apart. You need all the time you can get."
***
They
worked in silence. Like a well-oiled machine, Mary just watching them, smiling
to herself. Michael held the bag, Maria dumped in the trash from the room's
trashcans, and Michael would walk on, Maria trailing behind him, and the system
would start again. When the bag got full he tied it off, putting it on the
large cart, and grabbed another one. Once in a while Maria would have a
sarcastic observation, and Michael would reply in the same manner, and that
system too would start all over.
She was
resisting the urge to laugh aloud at them as she followed, making sure they
kept out of trouble. Making sure they didn't kill each other. Which, the way
this was going, they were well on their way to the latter. She leaned against
the wall, taking out a pack of smokes, putting one in her mouth and lighting
it. Watching as they disappeared into yet another room.
"How
do you know?" Michael asked.
Confused,
Maria turned around. "What?"
Michael
repeated the question, adding a few much needed details. "How do you know
I spend all day scowling at people and growling at them? You said that's all I
do."
Maria
shrugged. "I'm in your classes. I see you every day." She shrugged
again. "It's hard to miss the big growly guy who grunts answers at you and
never tries to have a decent conversation with anyone." Maria dumped in
the garbage.
Michael
held open the bag, looking at her. "I didn't think you--" he paused,
revising it. "Anyone noticed what *I* did."
Maria
looked at him. "Well, since you're all into the questions," she said.
"How do you know I'm a perky bouncy..." she swallowed. "Little
sheep?"
Michael
sighed. "You're hard to miss."
Maria
looked up, pausing mid-dump. "Why?"
"You're
absolutely psychotic," he said and walked out.
Maria
shrieked in rage. "I hate you!"
"Ditto."
***
It was
amazing how quickly the day passed when you were occupied with something other
than relaxation or shopping. Half the day was finished and their respective
charges returned them to the library where Ms. Blackwelder was waiting.
"Sit," she commanded. "Eat."
They
shuffled to their seats, reluctantly. Maria fuming, casting glares at Michael,
who glared right back. Tess and Kyle sat next to each other, Tess for once not
complimenting Isabel on her perfect appearance. Isabel sat alone, Alex across
from her, Max with Liz and Maria alone across the aisle from Michael, glaring, arms
crossed across her chest. His posture was identical to hers, but they didn't
notice as their eyes were locked on each other's angrily. "You will eat in
silence," Ms. Blackwelder said. "You are being punished, remember
that. I'll have jobs for you promptly at 1." She waddled out, to her
office.
Maria
broke the angry staring contest and Michael turned in his seat, propping his
feet up on the table.
Maria took
out her plain brown sack, as everyone else was doing. Spreading her lunch
across the table. Two sandwiches, a bag of potato sticks, cookies, a 20-ounce
of Dr. Pepper and a Twinkie. Isabel had a designer salad, Liz a doggie bag from
work, Max had leftovers from the night before, as did Alex with his meatloaf
sandwich. Tess and Kyle's lunches were identical, potato chips, soda, and
peanut butter and jelly. And Michael had nothing.
She looked
at him, sitting there, his arms crossed over his chest. "Where's your
lunch?" she asked him.
He
grunted, shrugging. "Don't have one."
"Why?"
He
shrugged again, making the Cro-Magnon grunt noise. "No food."
She stared
at him for a moment. "At all?" she said.
He
shrugged again. "It's none of your business," he said, snapping at
her.
Maria
glared at him, picking up her bag of potato sticks and the Twinkie and tossing
them at his table. "Here."
Michael
stared at it for a second, then at her. Then he picked it up and tossed it bag.
"I don't need your charity."
Maria set
her sandwich down, grabbing the food and tossing it one at a time back to his
table. "Take it. I don't want to have to listen to your stomach growling
all day."
Michael
tossed it back. "I don't want your damn food."
Maria
turned. "You're going to eat that food, or I'm going to go hungry
too," she snapped.
Michael
stared at her. "What?"
"Take
the food or neither one of us eats."
Alex
turned around, munching on his own sandwich, interested. Isabel was watching
two, it was like verbal tennis.
"That's
stupid," Michael said.
"Stupid
or not I'm not eating until you do." Maria tossed the food onto his table.
"You gotta eat something. And if there is no food in your house as you
said then you won't get dinner either. So eat it."
Michael
glared at her. "I'm not going to eat it."
"Then
neither am I." She raised an eyebrow at the boy.
"You're
so damn difficult," he snapped, grabbing the bag of potato sticks and
ripping them open.
"Fine,
I'm eating, okay? You can eat now."
Triumphant,
Maria opened her sandwich, watching him carefully. He munched on a few sticks
and glared at her. "What?" he asked, his mouth full.
"Just
making sure you continue to eat."
Michael
sighed. "Mind your own damn business," he said.
"I'm
perfectly happy being nosy, thank you."
Liz looked
at her friend. "Maria, why don't you just drop it?"
Maria
shook her head. "No, I will not drop it! He has to eat something. And I
don't need it. Fattening food that it is. So it'll just get thrown away. There
are starving children in Bosnia who could make do with that food."
Michael
continued to eat the potato sticks, trying his hardest to ignore her. That was
possibly the weirdest thing a person had ever done towards him.
Liz
sighed, turning back around. Maria ate her food happily, sipping on her soda,
unaware of the puzzled boy watching her.
***
"Time's
up. Lunch over. Food away," the woman said, waddling back in.
There was
the crinkle of bags and the rustling of paper as people put away their goods.
Michael shoved the uneaten Twinkie into the pocket of his leather jacket.
"More
work," The woman said. She seemed to only be able to speak in two's.
She looked
to Alex and Isabel. "You two," she pointed to a cart of books.
"See those. I want you to shelf them. It's fairly easy, just follow the
numbers," she said as if they were complete imbeciles.
She turned
to Max and Liz. "You two, computers. There's cleaning solution, cotton
swabs, and Q-tips on the table in the back. I want every one of those machines
spotless."
She moved
on, Kyle and Tess's turn. "You two, filing room. I want you to file the folders
on the table. Door's unlocked. It shouldn't be too difficult, if it is I'll let
you play with blocks the rest of the day."
She turned
to Michael and Maria. "And you two," she said, smiling. "You two
get to do the janitors a little favor."
Maria looked
up. "With him? Again?"
Ms.
Blackwelder glared at her. "You will go to the janitor's closet and
arrange it. You're to clean the mops, and rinse out the dirty rags and make
everything nice and organized."
She
clapped her hands, the sound making them jump. "Let's hop to it, children.
We've lots to do and only hours to do it in."
***
"Follow
the numbers," Isabel mocked the woman, her voice high and whiny, and the
perfect pitch for the cranky old woman. "Shouldn't be too simple, my
pretties." She shoved a book on the shelf. "Stupid witch."
Alex
smiled. "You're pretty good at that.at imitating her."
Isabel
shrugged. "Just something I can do."
Alex's
eyes lit up. "Ever consider acting?" he asked. "Maybe that's
your passion."
Isabel
shrugged, shoving another book on the shelf, pushing the cart down the aisle.
It was full of books, or all varieties. "I've considered it, sure. Every
little girl wants to be an actress." She shrugged. "Or a model."
"You'd
be amazing at both," he said. "You've got the looks for it."
Isabel
shrugged. "What you need is talent," Isabel said. "And
initiative. I can't even take Theater Arts."
Alex
looked at her, putting a book in its place. "Why?" he asked.
"Why can't you take it?"
Isabel
sighed, leaning against the shelf, letting him continue to shelf.
"Everyone
has this image of me," Isabel said. "And Drama is for geeks and
gothic losers." She sighed. "I'm not supposed to succeed at
anything," she said, her eyes on the floor, not looking at him. "I'm
supposed to be pretty and sweet and this totally perfect illusion on the
outside. But I'm not supposed to be smart. I'm not supposed to make good
grades.have a real talent. I'm a body." She shrugged. "I just got
used to it."
"Doesn't
mean you can't change it," Alex said. "You shouldn't base your entire
life on that concept alone."
Isabel
looked up, her eyes locking with his. "You can't understand," Isabel
said. "You don't know what it's like--" she cut herself off but Alex
finished for her.
"To
be popular. To be worshipped," he said. "No, I don't suppose I do.
But you don't know what it's like to have a passion. Something to live for. A
goal to work towards. You don't know how enjoyable it can be. Just like I don't
know how hard it is to be you."
He turned
back to the shelf. "You think I don't realize what I am? I'm just this
total loser, I pine after this total goddess of a girl, hoping, praying she'll
notice me. Maybe just pass her eyes over me for a second. Maybe see me for me.
Not for that nerdy guy who can get her ahead. Who can help her pass. I'm
totally invisible to her. She doesn't even recognize me when she sees me
outside the classroom setting. She doesn't even know my name. Even though I've
been in at least one class of hers since 5th grade. Even though I spent an entire
semester tutoring her after school in math. Doing her homework for her."
Alex shoved another book angrily into its place.
And that's
when Isabel realized where she recognized him from. Realized how many times she
had seen him through her life. He was like a prop, a background image.
Something that's always there but you never really see. Like a mailbox.
"Do
you have any idea what it's like to worship someone? To see this perfect woman
and not be able to touch her?"
Isabel
stared at him. "No," she said, her eyes burning. "I don't."
She swallowed. "But I do know what it's like to be spoiled. To be
conceited. To be worshipped. I do know what it's like to see something everyday
and not realize it's there. To wake up one day and realize there could be
something important in that thing. That person. Something I can't find anywhere
else." She stepped towards him. "You've been so nice to me, Alex, and
I...I'm so caught up in myself and in this school I didn't even notice."
Alex
nodded. "You didn't have a reason to."
Isabel
grabbed his arm. "I do now," she whispered. "I've never...had a
conversation like this. With anyone."
"Maybe
you aren't talking to the right people."
Isabel
shook her head. "Maybe not." She smiled at him. "You wanna be
the right person?"
***
"Why
did we keep this secret?" Liz asked, kissing his neck, moving her lips to
his cheek.
Max shook
his head. "No one wants to share perfection," he whispered. Kissing
her.
Liz
smiled, pulling away, leaning back in his arms slightly. "We're supposed to
be cleaning computers."
Max
grinned. "And waste this perfect make out opportunity?" Max said.
"Nah."
"But
Ms. Blackwelder..."
"Is
half blind," he reminded her. "She won't notice the dirt." He
moved to her neck.
Liz
gasped. "What if she does?" she asked, giggling. His breath tickled
her collarbone. "Then we'll say...we got distracted," he murmured,
placing a kiss at the bone.
Liz took
in a deep breath. "How do you think Phyllis knew?" she asked, and Max
pulled away, sighing.
"You
want to talk about this now?"
Liz nodded
and he sighed, nodding as well. "Are we that obvious?"
Max
nodded, smiling. "We've always been obvious," he whispered.
"Mooney looks."
"Always
touching." She nodded. "But never in front of her."
"We
have a vibe," Max said. "A couple vibe."
Liz
laughed, kissing him. "You've been hanging out with Maria too much,"
she said. "Vibe?"
He
grinned. "A vibe."
"I'm
tired of hiding though," she said. "I don't see why we're so
secretive."
"It's
more exciting this way."
"I
just want.people to know," Liz said.
"Want
to show me off, eh?"
"Something
to that effect," she said, laughing.
He nodded,
serious again. "Okay. Tomorrow, we'll go public." He kissed her
earlobe. "I wasn't ashamed of you, Liz."
"I
wasn't thinking that," she blushed.
He raised
an eyebrow.
"Well,
maybe a little."
"I
could never be ashamed of you." He kissed her forehead. "Who could
be?"
She
smiled. "I do love you, Max Evans." She grinned.
"I
love you too."
They could
let the computers remain dirty for a little while, Liz decided.
***
"Why
is it we never went on a date?" Kyle yelled over the vacuum roar. It was
monstrously loud, and Tess looked up, confused.
"Who's
late?"
He shook
his head, moving his hand across his neck, telling her to cut it and she did,
pressing the button on the back of the ancient machine. It died down with a
soft whir and Kyle sighed in relief.
"I
said, why is it we never dated?"
Tess
looked at him, confused. "You never asked me," she said.
"You
never gave me a hint that you wanted to."
"You
never gave me a hint you wanted me to give you a hint," she replied.
Kyle
stared at her. "I would have asked you," he said. "But now
you're living with me."
Tess
stared at him. "What about Isabel?"
Kyle shook
his head. "Me and Isabel, we're just for show. It's natural, ya know. Head
cheerleader, school beauty queen. Sports jock, school god."
Tess
raised an eyebrow. "God?"
"You
know what I mean."
"What
brought this on?"
Kyle
shrugged. "I was thinking," Kyle said. "We act like an old
married couple."
Tess
stared at him. "What?"
"Think
about it. We shop, we bicker, we buy groceries, and we bicker. I always know
where you are, you always know where I am. We live a room over from each other.
I make you dinner, you make me dinner. It's like we're married."
Tess
stared at him. "I ask again. What brought this on?"
Kyle
looked down. "Today. When you offered to tutor me," he shrugged.
"No one ever seemed to care about my grades. About whether or not I could
think. Or attempt to." He shrugged. "I realized I take a lot of stuff
about you for granted."
Tess
leaned over, interested. "Keep going."
"Like
how you keep my clothes clean.and they all smell like that Downy stuff. How you
always seem to know what my favorite foods are." He smiled as he talked.
"How you nag me about my grades and leaving my laundry on the floor. How
you make me lunch every day and make sure I have everything I need for
school."
"You
make me sound like a middle-aged housewife."
He
grinned. "No one's ever taken care of me like you have," he said.
"You're like family. Only I'm wildly attracted to you."
Tess
raised an eyebrow. "Wildly? How Wildly?"
He
grinned, leaning towards her. "Let's just say that wall between our
bedrooms better be thicker than I think it is."
Tess
grinned. "You really want to date me? Like publicly?"
He nodded.
"It can't hurt," he said. "I promise it won't."
She
nodded. "Okay. Name the place and time and I'm there."
"Tonight,"
he said. "Crashdown. Not really a date, but it's a start, right?"
She
nodded. "It's a start."
***
"Why
does she keep sticking me with you?" Maria snapped, stepping into the
musty broom closet.
"She
likes to torture me," he snapped. His foot kicked a broom, stubbing his toe
and sending it sliding across the room. He cursed, hopping on one foot.
Maria
stifled a laugh. "Are you okay?" she giggled.
He glared
at her. "No, I'm not okay." He took a seat on the only chair in the
room, just as the door slammed shut.
Maria looked
at it. "You didn't break it, did you?"
Michael
shook his head. "I don't think so." He wiggled the toe in his boot.
"I stubbed the hell out of it though."
"Someone
likes to torture you," Maria agreed. "Here, take your shoe off."
He stared
at her. "What?"
She sighed
impatiently. "Take your shoe off so I can look at your toe."
He made no
move to do it so Maria grabbed his boot, tugging on the laces.
"Hey!"
"Well,
you're not doing it," she said getting them loose. She tugged, falling
back against the door when it came free.
"No
commenting on how bad my feet smell. I know your kindergarten humor."
She glared
at him, resisting the urge to bend his toe back till it snapped. She tugged on
his sock, dirty and smelly as it was. Michael stared at her, her fingers soft
against his foot as she inspected it, turning it in her hands.
"Wiggle
them," she said and he obliged, wiggling the toe.
"Not
broken! But it's gonna be all purple tomorrow." Maria grabbed his sock,
pulling it back on.
"I
can do it," he snapped, wrenching his foot away. "I'm not a
baby."
She glared
at him. "Could've fooled me."
He ignored
her.
"You're
welcome," she snapped.
"Thank
you," he said, grabbing his boot. "For not doing a damn thing for my
foot."
Maria
growled. "I can't take this!" She threw her hands in the air.
"You're such a jerk." She reached for the door. "I'm just going
to go explain to Ms. Blackwelder that I can't work with you. You're
impossible."
"This
being the third time you've brought this to my attention," he said.
Maria
twisted the knob, it slipped from her hand. She twisted it again, and got the
same result.
"Wrong
way, simpleton," he said, coming up behind her, reaching around to turn
the knob.
He turned
it the other way and it stopped dead. He tried again, getting the same results.
He tried it the way Maria had been trying it, it slipped from his hands. He
tried once more. He tugged on it, pushed on it.
Maria
screamed in rage. "You locked us in, you idiot!"
"I
locked us in? I locked us in?"
"You
kicked the brick holding the door!"
"You
didn't tell me it was holding the door!"
"I
didn't know the door was locked!" They glared at each other for a minute.
Michael
banged on the door, bellowing loudly.
"Oh
my god. Oh my god," Maria put a hand to her head. "We're going to
die. We're going to suffocate." She gasped for air. "The air's
running out. Does the air feel thin to you?" She gasped some more.
"We're going to suffocate. Or starve! We have no food."
"Relax,
I have a Twinkie," he said dully.
"A
Twinkie! You really think a Twinkie is going to sustain us? We have no food, no
water. And we're running out of air and you're telling me to relax because you
have a damned TWINKIE?"
Michael
glared at her. "If you'd shut up I could find us a way out of here!"
"If
you hadn't've kicked the brick we could use the damned door!" Maria put a
hand to her chest. "I'm too young to die. We're going to suffocate,
they'll find us, our hands bloody, scratch marks in the door from where we
tried to claw ourselves out in desperation."
He stared
at her. "I can really tell you write for the newspaper."
Maria
stared at him, wide eyed. "How can you joke at a time like this? We could
be dead in an hour! In minutes! They probably already left. What time is it? My
mom's going to kill me! And then she'll find my body and I can't leave her
alone, she'll be all alone. I'm all she has left and I'm going to die in a
janitor's closet. I can't even die in a nice honorable way. I can see the
newspaper headline now--"
Michael
grabbed her, crushing his lips to hers roughly. Surprised, her eyes shot open,
seeing his own surprise, electric sparks shooting through her lips, coursing
into her veins. His lips moved across hers, his hands in her long blonde hair.
Her eyes slid closed, and to her utter surprise, she was kissing him back,
parting her lips, letting herself claw at his back. Gripping his leather jacket
for support.
His
fingers tangled in her hair, his other hand at the small of her back, dipping
her slightly backwards. It was amazing. Like fireworks in her mouth, and still
he kissed her, deepening it. And she kissed him back, forgetting for a second
who he was. Who she was. About their fighting, about everything. Forgetting for
a few blissful seconds until he wrenched his lips from her.
"Shut...up,"
he gasped.
Maria
stared at him, bewildered. "You just..." she said. "And I
just..." She put a hand to her lips.
"Got
you to stop talking, didn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair,
struggling to catch his breath. "Mission accomplished."
"Wow,"
Maria breathed.
Michael
nodded, closing his eyes for a second. "Oh yeah, wow."
She stared
at him. Contemplating her actions for a moment. Her future actions. She stared
at him and opened her mouth. "Ya know, I still kinda feel a little hysterical..."
He nodded.
"You look very hysterical," he whispered hoarsely.
She
nodded, stepping closer to him. "Plus it would, ya know, save on
air."
He nodded.
"Good plan."
***
"Where
are Ms. DeLuca and Mr. Guerin?"
The
students looked at each other, not having the slightest clue. She stared at
them.
"Probably
still in the janitor's closet," Max said. And Liz nodded.
"Probably
ran out of time," Ms. Blackwelder hpmmed. "You may go, I
suppose." She shooed them away. "Go. Leave. Out of my sight."
Quickly
they gathered their things, happy to be out of there, not able to take another
minute of the horrible woman.
"Alex,
wait," Isabel said, hoisting her purse over her shoulder.
"It's
okay," Alex said, walking ahead. "It's over. You don't have a reason
to talk to me any more." He shrugged. "Detention served."
Isabel
stared at him for a minute. "I don't want it to be over," she said.
"I thought.we were friends."
Alex
looked at her. "Be realistic, Isabel. How could we ever be friends? When
you see me in the halls Monday you're not going to wave to me, walk up to me.
Acknowledge my existence. And why? Because you do what they want you to. What
they expect you to, and it's beneath Queen Isabel to converse with me." He
turned away, starting to walk swiftly.
"I'm
going to join the Theater class," she jogged to catch up to him.
"Next Semester. I think I might enjoy it."
"I'm
happy for you," he said.
"Alex,
please," she grabbed his arm. "I won't ignore you," she said.
"Heaven knows I've done it enough already." She smiled. "You're
the only person I ever talked to, Alex...and the only one I really want
too."
He stared
at her.
"I
don't want to lose this," she whispered. "Just give me a chance."
He stared
at her some more. "You're asking me to give you a chance," he said.
"You who I'd lay down and walk over me if it meant that your feet would
stay clean? Are asking me to give you a chance?"
She
nodded. "To be your friend. Or more."
He stared
at her. "Pinch me," he said.
She stared
at him, confused. "Do it, hard as you freaking can." She grabbed his
arm hesitatingly, and gave it a sharp squeeze, digging her nails in.
He yelped.
"Good," he said. "So I didn't pass out in that library."
"I'm
serious, Alex," she said and held out a hand. "For now, be my
friend."
"What
about later?"
She winked
at him. "We'll figure that out when we come to it." She motioned
towards her hand. "Please."
He took it
in his own, giving it a squeeze. "For now," he said, nodding.
"But we're going to have to confirm this later thing."
***
The scream
that the old woman let out was enough to shatter glass. Michael stumbled,
almost dropping the girl in his arms.
"Well,
I never!" the woman shrieked at the scene before her. Maria's hair was a
mess from Michael's hands, her shirt pulled down slightly, exposing her red
bra. Michael's jacket lay abandoned, Maria's hands under his shirt resting on
his abdomen. Theyir lips red and swollen, the room as dirty as when they'd
entered it.
"This
is the most disrespectful, vulgar scene I've ever had to walk in on!" she
yelled.
Michael
reached for his jacket. "I'm guessing it's time to go," he said.
"I'll
see you both next Saturday!" she yelled. "I cannot believe this
generation. Sex in a janitor's closet."
Maria
laughed, stifling it by clamping her hand over her mouth. The woman shoved the
purse she was carrying towards Maria, who took it.
Michael
took her hand. "Come on," he said, trying hard not to laugh.
"See
you next week, Ms. Blackwelder," Maria called over her shoulder and turned
to Michael.
"And
you? When will I see you next?" she asked him.
Michael
smiled down at her. "How about tonight? Dinner. A movie? Little janitor
closet hysteria calming at my apartment?"
Maria
nodded, leaning up to kiss him. "Sounds like a plan."
"And
a damn good one I might add."
"Not
a bad waste of a Saturday."
Michael
shook his head. "It was almost perfect."
"Almost?"
"Get
rid of Ms. Blackwelder and it would have been heaven."
The End