Hello, hello, hello! This is my first collaboration fic ever, so it should be interesting. I don't really know how to explain the wheres and whyfores, so someone more qualified should stand up or something... and no one does. Okay, whatever...
This is a fic that originated in MediaMessiah's brain, but unfortunately he feels incapable of writing it. So here I am. I deserve a medal or something, I know. But then it would just collect dust. It's a moot point, so I should really just shut up now.
DISCLAIMER: Okay, how sad is this? Not only do I not own Pokemon, I don't even own this plot. Boo hoo. But whatever; at least I have something to work on. Pokemon, of course, is the happy property of Satoshi Tajiri. But this is all probably not new to you, so g'head and read.
Late
Chapter One
Friday study hall. It was still unknown just who or what had devised that torture, a classroom full of teenagers who either had finished their homework or were simply slacking, forced into relative silence by a stern-faced teacher. A tall boy lifted his head slightly off his hand to check the clock once more. Ten minutes to go. Brendan Birch slumped back down, idly tapping his pencil against a blank sheet of notepaper. Tap ta-tap. Tap ta-tap. Tap ta-tap. Tap-
"Stoppit already!" a voice from his right hissed. Brendan sat up, turning in his seat to face his friend Wally, who was glaring at him over a thickly bound book. "You're killing my concentration," he muttered, pale green eyes already returning to the page, searching for where he had left off.
Brendan sighed as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Wally further, or annoy the teacher, who was glaring suspiciously in his direction. The last thing he needed was a detention on a Friday, especially when there were only -he glanced at the clock once more- only seven minutes left. He propped his chin back on his hand and stared, glassy-eyed, at the clock. There was no way that clock was working; the second hand was moving much too slowly.
Finally, after an agonizing three hundred and eighty-seven seconds, the slightly nasal voice of the principal, Mr. Evans, came over the PA. "Attention, students," he began, clearing his throat importantly, "This is a reminder that the Halloween dance is to be held a week from today. Tickets will be sold at the door, and I'm sure it will be a night to remember for all of you." No one missed the bitter sarcasm in his voice, but it was well-known that the principal had a strong dislike of high school dances. Something to do with getting dumped in front of the whole school at prom, or so the story went.
"Well, that is all. Have a lovely weekend, everyone." The PA clicked off and the bell rang, jolting half the class out of their daydreams. There was the usual chaos as everyone scooped up bags and coats, stampeding towards the exit and ignoring their teacher's protests. After all, it was Friday; what could she do?
Brendan fought through the crowd to his locker, twiddling the dial and opening it to deposit his books. The locker door to the left of him was open, and he peered around to see his friend May Maple, struggling to jam a few textbooks into her cluttered locker. "Need some help?" he offered.
May turned to him, grinning embarrassedly. "Yeah, I keep meaning to clean this thing out, but I never get around to it, ya know?" Together, they tried shoving her books in amongst the mess, but there really wasn't anywhere for them to go in the sea of papers. They paused, scanning the small space for any hidden space to stuff them into, but none were visible. May suddenly snatched a piece of paper as it drifted to the floor. "So that's where my algebra homework went! I knew I'd done it!"
Brendan rolled his dark eyes. "See, this is where being organized would probably help you out, May." He then glanced into his own locker, where all his books were shelved neatly. "Hey, seeing as there's really no place for your books to go without them falling on you, why don't you just put them in here? I've got space."
May's eyes brightened. "Really? I can put my stuff in there? Aw, Brendan, that's so sweet, thank you!"
Brendan shrugged. "Just clean out your locker for me, okay?" He placed her books neatly in his own locker, then shut the door.
May grinned. "Shall we get going? We're pretty much the last people here, Drew's waiting on us!"
"Oh, yeah, right," Brendan muttered, the peaceful happiness evaporating as she mentioned Drew's name.
May noticed this. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Brendan straightened. "Uh, nothing, I think, um, let's go…" They walked down the hall towards the exit, May humming random snatches of songs and Brendan following, wondering why he'd suddenly felt... jealousy, perhaps? Just from May saying their friend's name?
But random flares of jealousy seemed to be cropping up more frequently, as of late. Ever since he'd figured out his feelings for May were a fair bit more than just friendship... But, still, he'd reasoned with himself, that could just be hormonal. After all, there was no denying that May was very pretty. In any case, he figured saying anything would just cause problems, possibly even ruining their friendship. Perhaps a small corner of him, the brutally honest part, just didn't want to risk rejection. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and hurried to catch up to May.
They stepped outside into a blindingly bright October afternoon. May led the way down the rows of cars to a forest green sedan. A green-haired teenager sat behind the wheel, frowning as he pressed a button on his phone and raised it to his ear. Looking up, he saw Brendan and May through the windshield and flipped his phone shut. He then rolled down the passenger-side window and leaned toward the opening.
"Hey, why didn't either of you answer your phones, I've been calling for five minutes! And what took you guys so long, anyways?"
Brendan shrugged. "May had locker issues, and I think my phone died." He then opened the passenger-side door for May, mock-bowing as he did so. She grinned and mock-curtseyed in return before getting in. It was just one of those pointless rituals they'd picked up over the years. He then settled in the backseat, resting his head back on the foam headrest.
Drew rolled his eyes. "You guys are so weird, you know that?"
May grinned. "Yeah, but you love us anyways."
Drew waved an airy hand. "Whatever you say, May. Now can we please get going? I'd like to be able to enjoy at least a little of my Friday, you know."
May glanced around the car. "Well, safety first, Drew. Is everyone buckled?"
At this, both Brendan and Drew rolled their eyes. "Geez, May, you sound like my mom," Drew muttered.
The brunette pouted. "I just don't want to die, is that so wrong?"
"Are you calling me a lousy driver?"
"Well, have you seen this car lately? How much of it's original parts?"
"Ugh, what do you even know, you probably don't know the brake from the gas!"
"Oh, you mean like you when you went through that red light last week?"
"Hey, that light was yellow!"
"No, it was red!"
"Yellow!"
"Red!"
"Yellow!"
"Red!"
"Yel-"
"FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, CAN WE JUST GO?!" Brendan yelled suddenly, stunning the other two into silence. Not an easy feat.
"Um, yeah, sure…" Drew mumbled awkwardly, starting up the engine and carefully backing out of the now-deserted parking lot.
The sedan remained silent for the fifteen-minute drive, save for the radio, which pumped cheerful pop music through the vehicle. Drew, apparently trying to prove he was capable of driving well, was focused on the road ahead, a welcome change, admittedly. May stared out the window, watching the trees swaying in a gentle breeze, leaves being shaken free and floating down to earth like orange and brown feathers.
Brendan, meanwhile, sat back with his eyes closed, reflecting on his day. It hadn't been particularly interesting, but then again, it was a Friday. The only item of note was that the Halloween dance was in a week, and even that didn't matter much to him. He was never really one for dances, nor were his friends. They'd probably just sit around their houses watching horror movies, or they'd be passing out candy to kids dressed up like Sir Aaron or Aipom. Or, they might just go trick-or-treating, though it was entirely possible they would be considered too old for it…
"Hey, Brendan, wake up, we're here," May's voice observed. He opened his eyes and stretched.
"C'mon, c'mon, hurry up, I've got places to be!" Drew urged. Brendan rolled his eyes at the impatient driver, then slung his backpack over his shoulder and got out of the car and onto his driveway.
"See ya, Drew!" May called, waving as the green car pulled out of the drive and sped off down the street. She then turned to Brendan. "And I'll see you next week as well, Brendan."
Brendan yawned. Why was he so tired all of a sudden? "Okay then. Don't forget, your stuff's in my locker."
She grinned. "Oh, yeah, that's right! Well, bye then." She waved, then cut diagonally across her lawn, vanishing into her house next door. Brendan smiled until he heard the door slam shut, then sighed, gazing wistfully at her house, wishing he understood himself well enough to explain to his friend that he had feelings for her. It was amazing how one lawn could feel like ten thousand miles, he thought ruefully to himself. May might as well have been that far away, for the amount of notice she took of him. Shaking himself once more, he tore his gaze from the house next door and let himself into his own home, closing the door behind him.
Chapter one completed. And now, a message from the 'real' owner of this story, MediaMessiah:
This is my idea, mine! I just... am not that great a writer as people seem to be telling me. I can't write this scenerio(?) so I just... gave it to Carpe. I am however going to write the last chapter. Musicstory of course, and Carpe is doing the rest. I do proofread and give suggestions and help. But I am just at a loss for words at anything high school setting. So yeah... Um... Later?
And because I am so nice, I help. Wonderful of me, isn't it? Especially since I thought I'd fail at high school settings too. Well, maybe I did. Which brings me to my next point: reviewing.
So, you know you want to review. But maybe you just don't feel up to logging in, or maybe you can't log in at all. Well, if that's your excuse, it's a lame one, because anonymous reviews work just fine for me.
A warning to you all: this fic may get updated really sluggishly. Quite apart from 'misplaced priorities' (read: education), the simple fact that two people are working on anything makes it take a lot longer. But reviews give you wings, so...
Cheerio,
Carp