My Paper Heart
Author's Note: Hello! Well, this is my first try at a 90210 fanfic. I'm a huge fan of the old one, and the new one's definitely a guilty pleasure. I prefer class 90210, but I really am growing fond of the revamped series. I simply adore Silver. I've always liked Erin, even when she was blonde and a baby, but she's definitely someone I'd hang with now.
This story centers on her and her relationship with Dixon, which is my favorite canon ship on the show. It's set when Silver is living with Annie and Dixon after she leaves the shelter and essentially has nowhere to go. She's been there for two weeks. Dixon and Silver are only friends at this point for the sake of the story. I'm playing with the timeline for the other plots The other plots concern Navid/Adrianna, after Adrianna meets Navid's family, and Ozzie/Naomi after they meet in detention. Dropped along the way are mentions of Ethan and Annie working together for their home ec assignment, where they're taking care of a fake baby together. Navid isn't in the class. Everything else is canon, taking place within the series, so if I mention a fact here and there, it's because I'm filling in the world of the story. I anticipate this being only six to seven chapters, with a main focus on Silver. All the POVs are from the girls. I love Navid, Dixon, and Ozzie, but it's easier. :P It's my first 90210 fic so I hope you read and review. And be gentle. J
Summary: Silver's making a movie about a certain lacrosse player, and they prove to be a perfect team on and off the field. Navid and Adrianna play sitters, while Ozzie and Naomi play at not liking each other.
Please just don't play with me
My paper heart will bleed
This wait for destiny won't do
Be with me, please I beseech you
Simple things, that make you run away
Catch you if I can
Tears fall, down your face
The taste is something new
Something that
I know moving on is, easiest when I am a-round you
So bottle up old love, throw it out to sea
Watch it away as you cry
A year has passed
The seasons go
Please just don't play with me
My paper heart will bleed
This wait for destiny won't do
Be with me, please have beseech you
Simple things, that make you run away
Catch you if I can
Waiting, day goes through
My lips are sealed for her
My tongue is tied to a dream of being with you
To settle for less is not what I prefer
So bottle up old love, throw it out to sea
Watch it away as you cry
A year has passed
The seasons go
Please just don't play with me
My paper heart will bleed
This wait for destiny won't do
Be with me, please i beseech you
Simple things, that make you run away
Catch you if I can
(bop bob bop la la la la x3)
Summertime, the nights, so long
The leaves fall down, so do I into the arms of a friend
Winter nights
My bedside is cold, for I am gone
Spring blossoms you to me
Summertime, the nights they are so long
The leaves fall down, so do I into the arms of a friend
Winter nights
My bedside is cold, for I am gone
And spring blossoms you...
To me
My Paper Heart is the property of the All-American Rejects.
I. My Paper Heart
Wrapping her dark blue robe around her frame, Silver delicately places her hand on the knob. She's hoping the room on the other side is empty so that she won't have anything on her mind. At the shelter, her thoughts were always running and she was constantly surrounded by the other women. In the shower, memories would take shape: shards of bottles on the kitchen floor tiles; the answering machine blinking red from unanswered calls, usually from Kelly or Mel; her mother closing the door in her face. Silver would shiver under the water even though the water was warm and fresh. She's hoping for a much different shower this morning.
The Wilsons were kind enough to let her sleep at their home. Annie apologized for her father's lame jokes and her mother consistently checking up on Silver, but she didn't have to apologize at all. It is nice to be looked at for the right reasons, to be noticed at all.
So far as she can see, the only catch to living in the house was the shared bathroom. She'd only ever shared a home with two guys before, her brother David who let her stay with him and his wife Donna for a couple of weekends in Palm Springs, and then her father, who didn't live with her after she hit puberty. They were married, though. Actually, Mel was remarried. She'd see if he stayed loyal to this one. Dixon is not married, and definitely not related to her. Thank goodness. No, she scolds herself. Don't think it. Having a romance under the same roof, and with her best friend's brother, could be so complicated. Just don't think it.
She twists the knob and is relieved to view a vacant bathroom. Annie's cherry-colored toothbrush and white peach Caress body wash is to the left, and Dixon's blue electric toothbrush and cologne are to the right. She smiles at the cologne, reads the name, and jumps when she hears a click from the opposite door.
"Hello?" he says, not entering yet. "Annie?"
Shifting her robe slightly, she stares at herself in the mirror and decides she looks presentable. Well, for this hour in the day.
"No…it's not Annie," replies Silver.
"Oh…oh, my bad," says Dixon.
"Um, you can come in and get what you need," assures Silver. "I'm covered up."
"Dang, does that mean I should've come in earlier?" kids Dixon, parting the door to see her.
"Heh," returns Silver. "You'd just be five minutes earlier for a slap."
"Dodged that bullet," says Dixon, turning on the sink.
Silver grins as he bends down to wash his face. He was wearing a Kansas T-shirt and black sweat pants. She wonders if nice, good-looking guys were typical of Kansas. The way he talked to her and treated her was, and is, a rare find in Beverly Hills, that's for sure. Dixon wipes his brow with a towel and stares at her.
"How's it going?" asks Dixon.
"I still kinda feel like I'm putting you guys out," confesses Silver.
It's true. She only intended to stay for the first night to clear her head, thank them for their hospitality and move in to Kelly's. Nobody pressed her, however. That didn't mean that she hasn't been considering leaving soon. Kelly kept reminding her that her house was an option, and Silver loved her nephew Sammy.
"Why would I want you out?" says Dixon. "You're way cleaner than Annie."
Silver shrugs. "Yeah?"
"The long hair," says Dixon, pointing to his own. "Find it everywhere."
She laughs. Annie did have hair for days. Personally, she likes the length of hers and secretly wouldn't mind if he liked it too.
"It's gonna be weird if you leave," continues Dixon. "Getting used to having you around."
Her cheeks go pink and she hates that they do. You'd think she could remain composed for a little longer than ten minutes. She is used to being around him, and she may be liking it more than she should.
"You could get to the shower quicker," says Silver.
"I can wait," says Dixon, smiling widely. "Speaking of which, it is a school day so…"
"A not so subtle attempt to do what I need to do," interjects Silver. "Give me eleven."
"Eleven?" says Dixon.
"Ten minutes to shower," explains Silver. "One, just to mess with you."
"You're lucky I'm nice," laughs Dixon, closing the door behind him.
Yes, she certainly is.
II.
"Where's your kid?" questions Silver, reaching for the orange juice.
Annie spreads some jelly on her toast and yawns. She was still not adjusted to the new schedule the three of them had worked out. Dixon and Silver liked getting to school early so they agreed with Annie that leaving at eight fifteen would be best. She called them both geeks, but eventually gave in.
"On the floor," replies Annie, glancing at the floor briefly.
"Does it have a name?" says Silver, peering at the plastic baby as well.
"Umm….it," answers Annie.
She chomps on her toast and checks her cell. Ethan was supposedly going to relieve Annie of her motherly duties after Mr. Matthews' class. At least Annie knew where their child was today. Yesterday, the baby had to be rescued from the hamper where her mom Debbie found her, or him…Silver didn't know which it was, but "It" is wearing a cute pink onesie.
Harry, in a crisp, handsome tan suit, and Dixon, in a button down green shirt and jeans, enter the kitchen. Tabitha follows.
"Where's the vodka?" asks Tabitha.
Annie chokes on her juice.
"Mom, it's too early for that," replies Harry.
"It's also too early for you to have grey hair, but I see a couple," says Tabitha. "I'll go ask your wife."
Harry rolls his eyes. If Silver's learned anything during these past few days, it's that Tabitha seldom took no for an answer. Silver suspects she's got some great stories to tell, though she'd feel strange probing her. Things are different with her blog. Silver doesn't hold back. Unleashing her individual beliefs and passions is therapeutic. Someone would be hearing her voice more than her mother did, and maybe appreciate it. Her page gets a lot of hits. Thus, some of her classmates must care about deeper issues than the latest sale at Gucci or how many of Angelina Jolie's children were seen at LAX.
"Don't tell me you're getting negligent again," teases Dixon, taking a seat next to Silver.
"On the floor," defends Annie.
"Cause that's safe," returns Dixon.
Annie groans and picks up the baby, makes it sit next to her plate.
"There," sighs Annie. "Happy now?"
The baby falls head first into the table. Harry smirks.
"Very," says Dixon, shaking his head.
"So what are you two doing in your classes?" says Harry, staring at Dixon and Silver. "Not something dealing with child-rearing, I'd wager."
"Dad," moans Annie. "Nobody wants to talk about…."
"No, it's okay," says Silver. "Um, we're creating multimedia projects in my film lab. Navid's doing an introspective mockumentary, aspiring to be the next Michael Moore, and I'm…completely without inspiration."
"You, without inspiration?" says Dixon. "The girl who blogs incessantly?"
Wait. That means he'd actually visited her page, right?
"Wait, you read it?" inquires Silver.
"Natch. We all do," assures Annie. "Why not do a do an actual documentary on the school? You write about it enough."
Would that work? She's not particularly fond of any of the cliques at West Beverly, or most of the extra-curricular activities. This attitude sort of served her well as she maintained an impartial view on her blog postings. Really, it's been her life's attitude too.
"Just find something you're passionate about, and I'm confident you'll ace the project," guarantees Harry.
They remain silent as they eat the rest of their breakfasts in a hurry. Tabitha walks breezily through the room and locates her purse.
"I'm going," announces Tabitha.
"Where?" says Harry.
"You know where," says Tabitha, heading to the front door.
Harry swirls his orange juice with a disgruntled noise and rises. The three teenagers rise, certain Tabitha would return from her vodka run with success. Annie did ask Silver if Tabitha's comments bothered her, but they didn't honestly. Tabitha's blunt humor made Silver like her so a few comments about her choice of drinks didn't faze her.
Dixon stands by Silver and leans in.
"Call shotgun," he whispers.
Silver twists her lips and grabs her backpack.
"Shotgun," says Silver.
"Ooof," moans Annie. "That leaves me and Baby Cry-A-Lot in the back."
"Yeah," says Silver. "Sorry."
She and Dixon walk to the foyer, Annie trailing behind with an exasperated expression.
"Hmmm," says Annie. "Why do I get the feeling this was planned?"
Neither Silver nor Dixon denies it.
III.
Naomi Clark positions the rear view mirror and plays frantically with her hair. She had made it a habit to do this ever since Adrianna's mother said her hair looked better straight. Why would you say that to a sixteen-year old? Whatever. The curls are totally working today. She needs them to work.
Ethan and Annie are getting a little too close for comfort, and by that she means that they're always talking secretively in corners or laughing loudly together or faux flirting. That's what Kansas girls must do—faux flirt. She doesn't know. She hasn't been anywhere near there. But if she has her way, and she usually does, Ethan won't be anywhere near "Kansas", Naomi's not so lovey-dovey nickname for the Wilson daughter.
Grabbing her bag, and again admiring how cute the clasp of it looks, Naomi leaves her car and locks it. She starts to text Adrianna as she walks through the parking lot. They weren't best friends, or as best as they were before her rehab, though they are trying to get to closer in any case. Adrianna's with Navid. Surprise, surprise. That was a couple she didn't mind leaving alone. No, they were cute. Plus Adrianna could totally wear the pants in that relationship. She's all for that.
"Been cutting detention lately?" says a voice to her left.
That's a voice she hasn't heard in a week. She can't say she misses the proximity of it, yet he scores points for being cute. Ozzie rights his black fedora and smiles at Naomi. His silk black shirt over a white tee, and pressed tan pants were increasing his score. But it still wouldn't help him score.
"My days of being in the same room as the unwashed delinquents of the school were numbered," informs Naomi, tucking away her T-Mobile. "Time's up. I'm free. Call me Nicole Richie."
"Nah, I couldn't," says Ozzie. "You're tall and you have curves."
Naomi shakes her head, glances at the sky, then at him.
"Want me to call you when I get some more?" returns Naomi, walking past him.
"Or you could just call me," answers Ozzie.
She pauses and whirls around.
"Listen, okay," says Naomi, getting a bit closer. "We may have exchanged some not so bad banter in Espanol, and am I repulsed by you? No. But…"
"That's good to hear," interrupts Ozzie.
"But," continues Naomi with a sigh, "Under no circumstances am I available. Capiche?"
"Comprende," says Ozzie with a smile. "Although, that's not what I heard."
Didn't this guy get it? Everybody is very aware of her history with Ethan, and everybody knows it's only a matter of time before they're back. Sure, there were fights, and Ethan wasn't exactly loyal, but there was this flame, and it isn't being doused for a guy she met in detention.
"Alright, then," says Naomi. "I'm not available…to you."
"Let me make a proposal," says Ozzie.
"Oh, for the love of….," starts Naomi.
"Eh," interjects Ozzie. "If you have no plans this afternoon, following my detention, I take you to my dad's restaurant. You scan the menu, see how handsome I am after hours, and order. I bask in the glow of your newfound appreciation for me. Then, I drive you home."
"Trust me," says Naomi, nodding. "I'll have plans."
"We'll see, mami," sighs Ozzie, bowing and strolling away from her.
Of course, she'll have plans, and if she doesn't, she'll make some. She's Naomi Clark. Ugh, he is way too cocky walking away from her like that. Naomi fluffs her hair, not calmly anymore, from frustration.
"Hey!" she yells after him. "Don't call me mami! I am not your mami!"
A few girls carrying cappuccinos laugh at her comment.
He blows a kiss in her direction and disappears into the school. Ugh, and he made her miss "accidentally" running into Ethan before homeroom. Why did she always stay and talk with him? She should ignore him. Naomi shakes herself and returns to the normal, collected Naomi. She walks by Lamborghinis, BMWs, and Ferraris. No one can distract her, not even a flirt with a fedora.
IV.
"I have something for you," teases Adrianna, dangling the DVD set in front of Navid.
"No way!" cries Navid. "No way!"
Oh, it's way. She had to order it online because the thing is so rare. But Navid, of all people, deserves this from her. Plus he told her he liked it on fifty thousand separate occasions.
"The Martin Scorcese Golden Collection," says Adrianna. "Mmm hmm."
Navid takes it into his hands. It almost looks like he's tempted to smell it. Awwww. Adrianna laughs.
"Now we're even for the jellybeans," says Adrianna.
They kiss, Adrianna smiling while doing so. She couldn't help it. His lips were so smooth and the innocence of their first kiss had remained until their second, their third…it was always like the first.
"This goes beyond jellybeans," assures Navid. "If only film lab weren't starting in five."
"The future director wants to delay film lab," ponders Adrianna aloud. "What kind of influence am I having on you?"
"Well, my parents seem to like it," says Navid shyly.
Adrianna blushes. The Sharizis were so sweet to her. They asked when she was coming to visit again after her two visits to Navid's. His father showed her pictures of Persia and his mother shared their traditions with her. The last visit, they all gathered together to watch a film by Persian director Abbas Kiarostami. Navid had hoped his film style would rub off on him. His parents and sisters shared the popcorn with her like she was one of their own. They didn't see her as a dirty druggie or a daughter who disappointed them like her own mother did. She was an actress whose opinions they encouraged. Adrianna loved the film and that made her more eager to share. After all, they're sharing Navid with her on some level.
"Would your parents be opposed to me coming over this weekend?" says Adrianna hopefully.
Navid drops his gaze and starts fiddling with his digital camera.
"Might not be a good time," says Navid. "We're….redecorating. This weekend's going to be so hectic."
"Oh," says Adrianna. "How about we go somewhere, make it less hectic?"
"That's…not possible," says Navid, gesturing to the screen. "The film, you know."
She's starting to get the message, though the last time he was this confused, it wound up being nothing. He's a virgin? So what. He was hesitant about her meeting his family? So what. What other bomb could he drop if those are the worst? It probably is the truth. Probably.
"I can't knock you for cinematic aspirations," retreats Adrianna.
"Next weekend," says Navid, kissing her forehead. "Okay?"
"This is déjà vu," murmurs Adrianna, slumping in her chair.
"More like déjà poo," mutters Navid, barely above a whisper.
"Huh?" says Adrianna.
"Uh, I said, did you!" cries Navid. "Did you ever see Gangs of New York?"
Boy is he quick to change the subject. She'll go along with it, if only because Silver and other students are entering the classroom.
"Yeah, there were a lot of secrets in that movie," says Adrianna, raising her eyebrows.
"Really?" says Navid. "That's something."
V.
The bell rings deafeningly through the classroom as film lab ends. Rattled, their teacher, Mr. Cushman, starts fumbling with the DVD player to make it pause on a piece concerning yellow journalism. Silver paid attention as much as she could, but she already knew most of the technical terms and the historical references. She discovered them on her own and tried in vain to sketch an outline for her multimedia project. The paper is blank and she only has two weeks. This may be
her first failure since…ever, if the brain doesn't get to working.
"Ms. Silver, can I see you for a moment?" calls Mr. Cushman as students depart from the room.
Mr. Cushman was cool and called the kid "Miss" or "Mr." He already saw some of them as budding directors, producers, and screenwriters, Adrianna and another girl the sole actresses of the lot. He treated them as adults, or equals, to be more exact. Mr. Cushman did annoy her with the mini-conferences, though. They usually started the same.
"I'm seeing great work from you, Ms. Silver," says Mr. Cushman, not veering from his routine. "Great work."
"But?" urges Silver.
"Your blog was particularly…biting, today," says Mr. Cushman.
"Thanks," says Silver, smiling.
"Couldn't you…have a more hopeful slant once in a while?" asks Mr. Cushman. "A gentle touch?"
He paused when he was nervous. Silver didn't think today's blog was so bad. She did it during study hall.
"The cheerleaders are actively seeking sponsors, Mr. Cushman. Sponsors that were promised participants in focus groups by our cheerleaders. Focus group for make-up products that include animal ingredients," informs Silver. "I'm sure Chanel can afford to have an organic section."
"I know your views," says Mr. Cushman, defensively. "I read the blog."
"Well, good," says Silver. "And make sure to tell your daughter. I wouldn't be surprised if they go after the junior high girls next."
"Hmmm, I'm sure I'll be seeing some of this passion in your project," says Mr. Cushman.
"Um, if I knew what I was doing," admits Silver.
"Might I suggest doing something else on the school?" says Mr. Cushman. "Something less controversial. Ah, one of my most successful students did a stunning documentary on the basketball team's race to the regionals."
Silver grimaces. "Sports?"
"It would allow you to step outside the box, grow as an artiste," encourages Mr. Cushman. "You don't want to be a one-trick pony in this day and age."
"There's a better chance of me directing The House Bunny than me finding passion as I shoot a sports documentary," informs Silver, holding her notebook to her chest.
"Try something new, Ms. Silver," says Mr. Cushman as he pats her shoulder. "You might like it."
"Ummm…."
"I thought I'd hate the Scream movies and I ended up loving them," says Mr. Cushman. "What a delight they were. How they played on the different horror film clichés…"
Yeah, he can stop there. She's seen Scream too many times to count. Besides, there were way better films and she doesn't feel like debating when she should be writing.
"Can't direct from the classroom, so yeah," says Silver as pleasant as she can say it.
"Most certainly," says Mr. Cushman.
He steps to the aside and she leaves the room. She doesn't get very far, doing a gentle "Ah!" as she leans against the locker. Her life is already so new, with the living arrangement at the Wilson's, with being away from her mother. Can't some things say the same? She's not quite sure she's ready for any more new things.
"Hey!" calls someone at the other end of the hall. "You're going to be late for class!"
Dixon comes a bit closer and taps his watch. Silver sighs and joins him in the center.
"So are you," says Silver.
"Nope," says Dixon. "Free period. Not that it's free. I'm trying to track down Annie's kid."
"Wow," laughs Silver.
"Ethan lost it actually," laughs Dixon. "What are you going to do, right? We have lacrosse practice after school so we have to find it before that."
"Lacrosse?" says Silver to herself.
"Yeah, I may have mentioned it a few times?" says Dixon, his brow wrinkling in amusement.
"Lacrosse is a sport," says Silver, nodding. "Yeah…yeah. And it's not as cliché as a football or basketball documentary or…"
"What's…what's wrong with basketball?" stammers Dixon, Silver dragging him down the hall. "Hey!"
"You're going to make me the hottest young female filmmaker since Sofia Coppola," says Silver.
This is an opportunity to shush Mr. Cushman and earn an A. He'd never see this coming from her.
"Sofia who?" says Dixon.
"Just say you'll do it," says Silver, with more enthusiasm than she's had all day. "Please."
Dixon sighs dramatically, and smiles.
"I'll do it."