Saturday Work Detail

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

var winName, url; winName = "_blank"; url = "http://www.netsetter.com/ConfigPopup.asp"; window.open (url, winName, "location=no,buttons=no,toolbar=no,resizable=yes,scrollbars=yes,width=520,height=320");