Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of its characters.
AN: Multi-chapter, will eventually be Nathan/Peyton. Enjoy :)
FYI; Brooke and Peyton grew up in New York, while Lucas, Haley and Nathan grew up together in Tree Hill. Peyton knows Lucas and Haley from work, but hasn't met Nathan. Brooke knows who Lucas and Haley are from Peyton's stories, but hasn't met them yet.
JANUARY
Peyton cursed quietly and readjusted the bag on her shoulder. It was heavy and uncomfortable and she started to regret her decision of bringing three of her own paintings to school. She tightened her grip on the stack of books she was holding to her chest, and hoped she could make it inside without dropping anything. As she climbed the stairs to the main building, she heard a familiar voice behind her, "Do you need any help?"
Peyton turned around and smiled, "You're a lifesaver, Haley."
The other woman shrugged, her eyes twinkling, "I do what I can." She took the stack of books from Peyton and together they walked inside.
Peyton met Haley for the first time at the beginning of this school year, when she started working as the Visual Arts teacher at Tree Hill High. They had become fast friends. Probably because they were the only two people of the faculty staff under forty. Peyton admired Haley's teaching skills immensely and often went to her for advice.
"Ugh," Peyton wrinkled her nose, as they turned left into the hallway that leads to her classroom, "it never goes away, does it?" When she saw the confused look on Haley's face she explained, "That typical high school smell. Sweat mixed with old books, and cafeteria food, and lockers that have god knows what stuffed inside of them for god knows how long." She fake-retched, "I thought I'd be used to it by now, but no."
Haley let out a laugh, "You've only been here five months, Peyton, give it time. This time next year you won't even notice it anymore."
Peyton shook her head, "I'm not sure that's better, Hales."
"Me neither," Haley grinned, "but we have to look on the bright side, don't you think?" Always the optimist, Haley James.
They stopped in front of Peyton's classroom and Haley handed her the stack of books back, "I'll see you at lunch, ok? We haven't even talked about our Christmas holidays yet!"
Peyton was about to say there wasn't much to talk about, having spent the entire two weeks at home, watching movies, painting, and eating ice cream straight out of the tub. She wasn't a big fan of the holidays, but she knew Haley was so she smiled, "Sure."
Haley gave her a quick wave before she turned around and walked back to her own classroom, which was in the C-wing of the building, on the opposite side of the main entrance. Peyton was certain Haley had already been here this past weekend to make sure her classroom was ready for when school started again on Monday. Haley was much more organized that way. Her well thought-out lessons plans were both feared and admired around school, by teachers and students alike.
Peyton looked around her own classroom and felt proud of how it looked; sure, it was messy but it was her mess. The long wall on her right side was covered in artwork from students, while the back wall, which could slide open to reveal an art room behind it, was covered in lyrics. Some of which Peyton had painted on herself, others which were written down by students. There was always a marker lying around nearby should someone get a sudden burst of inspiration. She knew some of her older colleagues frowned at the idea of having students write on the walls, but if it meant the kids were being creative and involved, she sure as hell wasn't going to stop them. Plus she could always paint over it at the end of the school year.
Peyton put the books down on her desk and carefully placed the heavy bag on the ground, thankful that the janitor had already opened the blinds for her. A quick glance at the clock told her she only had fifteen minutes left before the first bell would ring, so she took her leather jacket off, hung it on her chair and started to unpack her bag.
She placed the three canvasses side by side on the ridge of the blackboard and took a step back to look at her work. Two of the pieces were from when she was in high school herself; one being an unnamed self-portrait where she had drawn a hole where her heart should be, the second was called Love; a canvas covered in thick, black paint, while the third was a more recent piece; a confetti of colors and swirls of happiness called Tomorrow.
Peyton walked back to her desk and leaned against it as the first students started to fill the room. She nodded to them as a hello and watched as they all took their seats. It was one of her few rules; she had assigned each student a seat at the beginning of the year, because she was terrible with names, and had explained to them that as long as everyone stuck to her seating plan, they would get along just fine. And so far, so good.
While this was only her first teaching job, she seemed to have earned respect from all her students, freshmen and seniors alike. Maybe it was because she didn't look like a typical high school teacher; she always wore black and always wore sneakers. Maybe it was because she treated her students like equals instead of kids. She listened to their opinions like she would listen to her colleagues and felt as much of a big sister to these kids as their teacher. But, when needed, she could be tough; although the kids knew she was always fair and never took sides. Either way, there was a mutual respect in her classes that she was proud of having achieved.
The last student to come inside closed the door (another one of her rules) and she smiled at the freshmen in front of her. She felt a special affection for her three freshmen classes; both she and the kids started high school at the same time. Her first day as a teacher was their first day as students and somehow they formed a bond because of this.
"Good morning," Peyton started, "it's good to see all of you again. Glad to see you've all survived the holidays. Now, I know some of you will probably want to share what you did for Christmas and New Year's, but I'm going to have to refer you to Miss James' class for that. She's much more into this holiday stuff than I am, as I'm sure you all know."
Some of the kids nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how crazy their English teacher had gotten in the weeks leading up to Christmas; her classroom looked like a winter wonderland and she even had her students write modern day Christmas carols as an assignment.
"So," Peyton continued, "I figured we'd start the week with something a little different." She stepped aside and gestured at the three paintings behind her; "These are three of my own paintings," she smiled when she saw the surprised looks in front of her. She never really told them she was a painter, only that she liked to sketch. "One of them is called Love and I want you to write a 500-word essay about which one you think it is and why. Should 500 words not be enough, then by all means; have at it and make a paper out of it, but I can't guarantee it will earn you more points. It might earn you chocolate though," she added with a wink. "So humor me."
She was met with different reactions; some kids groaned in frustration at having to write an essay in art class, while others were already turned around in their seats, discussing the paintings with their classmates.
Peyton cleared her throat, trying to get the kids to focus on her again, "I think the two hours this class lasts should be enough to write the essay, but just because I like you so much, and because I think we should take it slow this first week back after winter break, you can hand it in at the start of next week's class at the latest." She looked around the classroom and saw relieved faces, "And last, if you have any questions about the paintings, you can always ask but I can't promise I'll answer. Can't make it too easy on you, now can I?" She smiled a wicked smile, "Have fun, kids."
She used the same assignment for all her freshmen and sophomore classes that week and was surprised at how much more confident the sophomores were in their arguments and how many of them have already turned in their work at the end of each class. The freshmen however, took their time and only a few brave ones had turned in their essays so far.
Her junior classes got a slightly different assignment; instead of writing an essay they were challenged to translate the prompt Love into a painting of their own. During their classes, Peyton opened up the wall dividing her classroom from the art room, so that the students had free access to supplies and had more room to work on their paintings. She gave them four weeks to complete their task and wasn't surprised that most of them took a relaxed approach to the assignment. After all, Visual Arts was an elective course in junior and senior year; only those really interested in the arts had enrolled in her classes and most of them were really good.
The first week after Winter break proved to be an uneventful one and Peyton was glad when Friday came around. She only had two senior classes on Friday; one right before and one right after lunch, which meant that if she wanted she could sleep in and go home early.
Sometimes though, she stayed late and sat in with one of Haley's senior English classes. Every other week Haley showed a movie to her students, but before the movie would start she assigned each student a specific scene and asked them to rewrite it to include something they thought the movie was missing. The next week the students would take turns in reading their scenes out loud and a whole new story would emerge in front of them. It was a tough assignment for sure, but a great thing to watch and very inspiring.
Haley had already let her know yesterday that this week they would watch The Breakfast Club. While it was one of Peyton's favorite movies, she was hesitant about anyone rewriting the script; the movie was so well written, that she doubted it could be improved. She hoped to be proven wrong.
Before she could sit in with Haley she had one of her own classes to get through first. They weren't a bad group of students, not at all, but it was always difficult with seniors; the age difference was much smaller and they definitely kept her on her toes with their smart remarks and sometimes lack of interest in whatever she was trying to teach. Especially this last class on Fridays, when everybody, Peyton included, was ready for the weekend to start.
The bell to signal the end of lunch rang when the first couple of students walked into her classroom. The two boys, Kevin and Jack, walked straight past her and sat down on their assigned seats on the left side of the room. They weren't troublemakers per say, but weren't actively participating in class either. She still wasn't sure why they had even chosen Visual Arts, but as long as they didn't bother any of the other students and kept their grades up, Peyton didn't mind.
Two girls, Sarah and Scottie, followed and they greeted her enthusiastically before they sat down in their seats. Peyton had taken an immediate liking to both girls, mostly because they reminded her of herself and her best friend Brooke in high school. Sarah was the outgoing cheerleader, while Scottie kept to herself and could always been found buried in a book somewhere. Even though the two girls couldn't be more different, they were best friends and absolutely inseparable.
There was a buzz going around the room once all the students were inside and Peyton knew all too well why that was. She cleared her throat to get their attention, "I'm sure you have already heard that we officially started preparing for senior prom today." A lot of students, including an unexpectedly large number of boys, nodded enthusiastically.
"I already spoke to my other senior class about this," Peyton continued, "so I'm sure word has already gotten out during lunch that this year I will be the teacher who coordinates everything that has to do with prom."
To be honest, she wasn't all that happy about being handed this extra task, and she definitely didn't think of herself as someone who loved prom enough to do a great job, but the principal, Mr Henderson, didn't want to take no for an answer when he asked her and so here she was.
"Now, I can use all the help I can get, so on my desk I have a list," Peyton held up a clipboard, "with everything that needs to be done. Behind that is another list where you can write down your name and add which of the tasks has your preference and I will try to assign everyone to their requested tasks, but I can't make any promises."
She put the clipboard down again and looked around the room, trying to look indifferent, "But know that either way your participation may or may not have a positive influence on your final grade. Just saying."
The class whooped and cheered in response and Peyton had a hard time getting them to settle down again. She wasn't surprised; it's an easy way to earn some extra points.
"Alright," she leaned against her desk and crossed her arms, "for today's class I want you to pair up into groups of four and try to think of a theme for senior prom. Work out a decoration plan, color scheme, and write down some arguments on why you think we should choose your theme and hand it to me after class. I will pick the top six themes from both you and the other senior class and we will take it to a vote next week, ok?"
She watched contently as groups started to form, and smiled when she saw Sarah and Scottie ask Kevin and Jack if they wanted to be on their team.
Before Peyton knew it the bell rang, signaling the end of class. She stood next to the door to collect their work, and watched them as they exited her classroom and left for their last class of the week. Some of them were in Haley's class and yelled out a "See you in English, Miss Sawyer".
Peyton put the papers the students had handed her in a folder and stuck it in her purse. She grabbed her jacket and took a quick look around the room to see if everything was as it should be before she made her way across the building to the C-wing.
The movie had already started when Peyton quietly entered the classroom, but she had seen it so many times already that she knew exactly what was coming next. She sat down on one of the chairs in the back of the classroom, next to Haley, who, from this position, had a good overview of the room as to keep an eye on her students.
It wasn't long before she was completely engrossed in the movie and, as always, she had to blink back a tear when Don't You Forget About Me by The Simple Minds started playing during the final scene. She leaned her head against the wall and waited for Haley to turn the lights on. The students were already gathering their things, knowing they were free to go once the movie was finished. Before anyone could leave though, Haley clapped her hands one time and looked at her students, "Everyone knows their scene?" The class nodded and Haley smiled, "Good, have fun with it and I will see you all next week."
Peyton waited until the last student had cleared the room before she grabbed her things and joined Haley at her desk, "Are you sure you're not coming?"
Earlier this week, Peyton asked Haley if she wanted to come along for drinks on Friday, a tradition Brooke and Peyton started when they moved back to Tree Hill. But Haley had politely declined, saying she had other plans.
Haley nodded, "Positive. Maybe next time?"
"Sure," Peyton smiled, "see you next week, Hales. Have a good weekend."
"You too, Peyton,"
"They let you go to work dressed like that?"
"Good to see you to, Brooke," Peyton replied. She locked her car door and gave her best friend a hug before they crossed the street together to Tric, one of Tree Hill's few bars, and their usual spot for their Friday night date.
Brooke wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Don't they have a dress code these days?"
"And what exactly is wrong with what I'm wearing?" Peyton countered, even though she knew exactly what Brooke was going to say, because this was their spiel every Friday night.
"You look exactly like you did in high school, P." Brooke clucked her tongue, "And it's one thing for an angst-y teenager to dress in all black, with ugly band t-shirts and worn out sneakers, but it's another thing for a grown woman with a job. It makes her look like she's trying too hard."
"Hey!" Peyton countered, but with a smile, "First of, this," she pointed at her t-shirt, "is not ugly. It's The Cure and it's vintage. And second, I am so not trying too hard." She shrugged, "This is just my look. And the kids love it."
"I'm sure they do," Brooke mused, "but that might have something to do with that t-shirt being just a little too tight."
"Whatever," Peyton stuck out her tongue at Brooke. "You're just jealous."
"Sure," Brooke agreed. "You just keep telling yourself that, Blondie." She opened the door to the bar and followed Peyton inside.
Not surprisingly they found the place deserted; it was still early, even for the regulars that usually flooded Tric during weeknights. The bartender, Chase, greeted them enthusiastically, "Ladies, good to see you again."
"Same here," Peyton agreed. She turned to Brooke, "Can we order some food first? I'm pretty hungry."
"You're always pretty hungry," Brooke huffed, rolling her eyes, "and still as skinny as ever. Honestly Peyton, it's just unfair.
Peyton shrugged as a reply.
"I'll have a burger and fries and coke, please." Brooke said to Chase.
"Same here," Peyton added, "You know where to find us, right?"
Chase nodded and smiled, "I'll bring your order once it's ready."
"Thanks babe," Brooke gave him a wink and headed toward their usual table on the left side of the bar. It was far away enough from the music to be able to have a normal conversation without having to shout, and close enough to the bar to get quick refills and to check out the rest of the crowd.
"He's so into you, it isn't even funny anymore," Peyton teased, "the kid is practically drooling every time he sees you."
"He is cute," Brooke admitted, not saying anything else. Peyton took this as a cue to drop the subject, knowing her best friend too well to keep pushing.
They sat down and Peyton glanced around the room. Haley once told her that back when she was in high school Tric was the go-to place for teenagers in Tree Hill, with open mic nights once a month and bands playing in the weekends. Haley had even confessed she once performed, but was quick to add it had been a one-time thing and that she was too nervous to really enjoy being on stage.
According to Haley it had been ages since a band last performed at Tric, and it even was closed for a couple of years until it reopened again right before Brooke and Peyton moved back to Tree Hill. Chase, the bartender, was also part owner, and bought the place together with his business partner Owen. They turned it into a bar that became a quick favorite with the locals, Brooke and Peyton included.
It wasn't long before Chase brought them their drinks and informed them that their food was coming.
"So, how was work this week?" Brooke asked, taking a sip of her drink.
Peyton shrugged, "It was pretty fun. Remember when I told you I thought about brining my own work to school for an assignment?"
Brooke nodded, actually having encouraged Peyton to do so. When it came to Peyton's artwork, Brooke was her biggest fan.
"Well, I took that self-portrait with the hole for my heart, Love, and Tomorrow, and have the freshmen and sophomores classes write an essay on which painting they think is Love and why. The juniors have to make their own version of Love," Peyton smiled, "and the seniors are trying to come up with prom themes because I will be coordinating prom this year."
"Shut. Up." Brooke raised her eyebrows in surprise, "My Peyton Sawyer, my emo best friend, the one who hated prom and everyone in it, is coordinating Tree Hill High's prom?" She wiped away a fake tear, "It's nothing short of a miracle."
"Whatever," Peyton countered, laughing at Brooke's reaction. "It's bad enough that they have me do this, but I have to chaperone as well."
Brooke sat up in her chair, "How was this not the first thing you said to me when you go out of your car?" She took Peyton's hand, "Please, please, please tell me I get to make your dress? Pretty please? I will make you the best prom dress ever!"
Peyton was quiet for a moment, but then she nodded, "You know what, you can." Brooke squealed in delight. "But only if you ask Chase out somewhere in the next two weeks," Peyton added with a wicked grin.
"It was a pleasure, as always," Peyton said, while she did a courtesy-type of bow.
"Same here," Brooke agreed. She gave Peyton a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you next week, ok?"
"Same time, same place," Peyton agreed. She opened her car door and got inside, "I'll call you on Monday, babe!"
Brooke waved in response.
Like their Friday night dates at Tric, their Monday night phone calls were another one of their rituals which started when they moved here last summer. Brooke actually lived in Tree Hill for the first six years of her life before her parents divorced and she and her mother moved to New York. Peyton was seated next to Brooke on the first day of Elementary school and they had been best friends ever since.
After they graduated High School Brooke went on to study fashion design at FIT, while Peyton went to NYU. They moved into a tiny apartment in the East Village, where they lived together for the next five years. Already then Brooke was busy setting up her own clothing line and she showed her first collection at New York Fashion Week before she even finished university. She became famous overnight and it seemed everyone wanted a piece of her.
At first Brooke loved all the attention and worked hard to build her brand, Clothes Over Broes, but after a year of never-ending attention, both positive and negative, Brooke decided to take step back. While she still was head-designer for the company, her mother, Victoria, now handled all business decisions and was the spokesperson for the company. And even though things quieted down for Brooke, and she could live relatively anonymously again, she still was unhappy and Peyton was worried about her.
So when Brooke made the decision to move back to Tree Hill and asked Peyton to come with her, Peyton didn't hesitate for a moment. Because even though she was born and raised in New York, there was nothing left for her there anymore.
Brooke and Peyton agreed that, while they loved living together, it was time for both of them to put some roots down and that they should get their own place. Brooke lived in a house on the waterfront, while Peyton bought a big apartment on the other side of town. Immediately after deciding not to live together anymore, they promised each other that Friday night would be reserved for dinner and drinks, and that they would call every Monday to catch up, no matter how busy life got.
Peyton was about to turn left onto Oleander Drive when she saw a cop car pull up behind her. She cursed silently when the officer signalled her to pull over, knowing she went over the speed limit on Main Street earlier. Peyton parked her car on the side of the road and rolled her window down, seeing the officer approach in her side mirror.
"Good evening, ma'am," the officer tapped his hat as a greeting, "Can I see your papers, please?"
Peyton sighed and handed them over. She looked at the man standing next to her and was surprised to see he was about her age. Her eyes found his and she was struck by how blue they are. She smiled at him, hoping he would take it easy on her.
"Thank you," the officer handed her papers back. "The reason I'm stopping you is because you have a broken taillight, ma'am."
"Oh," Peyton responded, relieved. "I'll have it fixed tomorrow."
"I'd rather you replace it now, ma'am," the officer answered. "Do you have a spare with you?"
"I do," Peyton said slowly, somewhat embarrassed, "but I don't actually know how to replace it." She bit her lip and looked up at the officer, "Could you help me, maybe?"
He shook his head, but grinned, "It's a good thing it's a slow night, ma'am."
"Please stop with the 'ma'am'," Peyton groaned as she goy out of her car, "I'm not that old." She opened the trunk and took out the box of spares.
"Miss Sawyer then?" the officer suggested as he took the box from her. He took off his hat and handed her his flashlight, "If you could just shine here," he said as he removed the back cover of her taillight.
"I don't know," Peyton shrugged.
"About the flashlight?" the officer joked, a grin spreading across his face. He unscrewed the faulty light bulb and handed it to Peyton.
"About the Miss Sawyer thing," Peyton replied, and handed him a new bulb. "That's what all the kids at school call me." She watched him as he screwed the new bulb in place.
"You're a teacher?" the officer asked as he closed the cover and took the flashlight from her.
"Wow," Peyton shook her head. "Is it really that hard to believe?" She closed the trunk and leaned against it.
The officer shrugged, "You just don't look like any of my teachers did in high school."
"I know," Peyton sighed, thinking back to what Brooke said to her earlier tonight. "To be honest I can't believe they let me go to work dressed like this either." She plucked at her t-shirt, "Maybe Brooke was right." Peyton knew that one of the reasons why she dressed like this was to let the kids know she was one of them, that she was on their side. She was afraid that if she suddenly started dressing different the kids would treat her different too.
"I don't know what this Brooke said," the officer said, interrupting her thoughts, "but I like it. It's just that it makes you look more like an artist than a teacher."
Peyton let out a laugh, surprised by his remark, "I am an art teacher actually."
"There you go," the officer nodded, "that explains it." He put his hat back on and gave her a nod, "As fun as this was, I probably should get back to work."
"Yeah," Peyton agreed, "Thank you, for helping a lady out."
"Anytime," the officer reassured her. "Have a safe drive home," and with a wink; "ma'am."
Peyton let out another laugh as she got in her car.
"Tell me again about this handsome police officer," Brooke urged, before taking a sip from her drink.
Another week had passed and Brooke and Peyton were once again at Tric for their Friday night date. Peyton had already told Brooke everything about her run in with the law last week, but Brooke, as always, wanted to go over the story once again, and in great detail too.
"He fixed my light bulb," Peyton shrugged. "What more do you want me to say?"
Brooke sighed dramatically, "I don't know. How about how you want to marry him and have his babies?"
Peyton snorted, "It takes more than fixing my light bulb for me to want to marry someone, Brooke."
"Ugh, don't I know it," Brooke groaned. She shook her head and took another sip of her drink.
"Speaking of babies," Peyton said with a grin, "how are things with Chase?" A week had passed since she challenged Brooke to ask Chase out on a date and so far nothing had happened.
Brooke rolled her eyes, "You are not still going on about this, are you?"
"Something about a prom dress," Peyton fake-coughed and winked at Brooke.
"I hate you," Brooke shook her head, but laughed. "I still have a week left, Blondie. Plus he isn't even here tonight."
"Whatever," Peyton smirked, "I hear Target has great prom dresses these days."
"Haley!" Peyton shouted as she spotted her friend walking up the stairs to the main building.
"Hey," Haley smiled as she turned around and waited for Peyton to catch up. "How was your weekend?"
"Too short," Peyton responded with a grin. "Yours?"
Together they walked up the stairs and Peyton held the door open for Haley, waiting for her to pass.
"Too long," Haley replied with a shy smile. It was no secret that Haley loved her work and that she often came to school during the weekends to prepare classes or grade papers.
"Can I ask you something?" Peyton followed Haley inside and stopped in the main hall.
"Sure," Haley nodded.
"Do you know Chase Adams?" Peyton asked, "The guy who owns Tric?"
"A little," Haley replied. "We were in the same year in high school, but I don't think we ever had any classes together. Why?"
"I may have challenged Brooke to ask him out," Peyton admitted, "and I just wanted to know if he's a good guy."
"From how I remember him, he's a really good guy," Haley reassured her with a smile.
"Good," Peyton nodded. She was about to say goodbye and make her way to her classroom when she remembered something, "Hey, isn't Lucas supposed to take over from McMillan starting this week?"
Lucas Scott was a substitute English teacher, writer, and Haley's best friend. Peyton met him briefly in November, when he substituted two weeks for another teacher in the English department, and had taken an immediate liking to him.
McMillan, an old, brittle man, lost his wife after a long battle with cancer last week and was expected to be absent for at least three weeks.
"He had to drop his brother off at work first, I think his car broke down or something," Haley explained, "Anyway, he should be here soon." She looked at her watch, "I really should get to class, but I'll see you at lunch?"
Peyton nodded and gave a quick wave, "See you at lunch, Hales."
It was late Thursday afternoon when Peyton closed the door of her classroom and was about to leave for home when Lucas caught up with her. She smiled at him, "Mr. Scott."
"Miss Sawyer," he replied with a grin, "fancy seeing you here."
"I could say the same; you're a long way from the English wing," Peyton remarked.
"Coach Whitey wanted to see me," Lucas explained. The coaching staff had their offices just past Peyton's classroom, and just in front of the gym. "He wanted to know if I'd like to help him coach the basketball team from now on."
"That's great, Lucas," Peyton congratulated him.
"Thank you," Lucas nodded. "I think he's finally realizing he won't be around forever and that maybe it's time to retire next year."
"Wasn't he already coaching when you were in high school?" Peyton asked, remembering something Haley said, about Coach Whitey being the only staff member who was already around when she and Lucas were students here.
Lucas nodded, "Yeah, and even then we thought he was old."
Peyton laughed, "Better not let him hear you say that."
"Better not," Lucas agreed. They reached the main hall and Lucas gave her a quick nod, "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yes." Peyton was about to exit the building when she heared shouting coming from the bathroom to her left. It sounded like someone was being cheered on to do something and even though she only worked here a couple of months she knew this could only mean something bad. She looked around to see if Lucas was still close by and saw he was just about to enter his classroom. She shouted, "Lucas!" to get his attention and without looking to see if he heard her she ran to the bathroom.
When she opened the door she was shocked by the sight in front of her; Jack was cornered by two boys she recognized to be basketball players, holding him back with his hands pinned to his sides, while two other boys were going through his bag and throwing his books in the toilets. None of the boys were in any of her classes, but she knew they were seniors just like Jack.
"Stop it right now," Peyton all but screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" She grabbed the two boys closest to her and pulled them apart, away from the bag.
"I'll deal with these four, Miss Sawyer," she heared Lucas say from behind her. Without looking she pushed the two boys in his direction, and took a step forward. The two other boys had let go of Jack and held their hands up in defense, trying to act innocent, but Peyton was fuming and grabbed both their arms, pushing them in Lucas' direction as well. She heared Lucas barking orders at the boys, telling them to shut up and follow him to his classroom. She was assured he would deal with them as he saw fit but her main concern was Jack and she carefully took another step toward the boy.
"Jack," Peyton held out her hand, but didn't touch him, "Are you ok?"
The boy nodded ever so slightly, but Peyton saw the tears in his eyes and knew he wasn't. As much as she wanted to, she fought the urge to hug him and instead kept her distance, knowing the boy was probably both scared and embarrassed by what just happened. She looked around the room and saw his books covering the floor. Most of them were soaking wet and unsalvageable. Peyton took a deep breath and started gathering the books in her arms.
She looked at Jack, who was still avoiding her eyes, "I'll have a new set of books ready for you tomorrow morning, ok? Just come by my classroom before the first bell to pick them up."
Jack nodded and quietly picked up his bag.
"Jack," Peyton said, and this time she did put her hand on his arm, urging him to look at her. When he did she continued, "I know you probably don't want to hear this and you probably want to forget this ever happened, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, ok? If you want to talk, or if you want to hang out after your last class until you feel safe to go home, you know where to find me, right?"
The boy nodded.
"Ok," Peyton let go of his arm. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah," Jack replied, once again avoiding her eyes.
"This isn't the first time this happened, is it?" Peyton asked; her voice soft.
Jack shook his head before he walked out of the room.
"Jesus, kids are so cruel," Brooke shook her head after Peyton told her what happened the day before. "Were we ever this bad in high school?"
Peyton shook her head, "No way, no one at school was."
"That poor kid," Brooke continued, "Do you think they'll leave him alone now?"
"I really hope so, but I really don't know," Peyton replied. "Lucas took them off the basketball team for the rest of the season, but they weren't in the race for the championship anyway, so I doubt that scared them much." She signalled Chase for another round of drinks, "I really hope Jack's ok though, he wasn't at school today."
"Hmm," Brooke agreed, "Maybe you should call his parents?"
"Yeah, I don't know," Peyton hesitated but continued, "He doesn't seem like the kid who gets along with his parents. I don't want to get him into more trouble."
Brooke let out a sigh, "Let's talk about something else, ok?"
"Like how you still haven't asked Chase out yet," Peyton teased.
Brooke narrowed her eyes at her best friend, "The night is still young." She laughed, "Or something to that extent."
"Oh come on, Brooke," Peyton urged. "You haven't been on one date since we moved here, just ask him out already." She looked up and saw Chase approaching with their drinks. "Here he comes," she got up and patted Brooke on her head, "I'm just going to go away for a while so do your thing, ok?"
Brooke rolled eyes, but sat up and straightened her dress just before Chase arrived at their table.
"You look fine," Peyton said for the tenth time. "Come on, Brooke, you're going to be late."
It was Thursday night and Brooke was supposed to meet Chase for their date in ten minutes. Peyton had agreed to come to Brooke's house after work, to help Brooke choose her outfit and to give her a much needed pep talk.
"I don't know about the shoes, though," Brooke muttered.
Peyton clapped her hands, "The shoes are fine, come on, we need to go!" Not only had she agreed to help Brooke prepare for her date, Peyton had also offered to drive her to the restaurant because, as Peyton reasoned, that meant that Chase would have to drive Brooke home after their date. Sometimes, Peyton figured, it was ok to help move things along a bit.
"Ok," Brooke took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door Peyton held open for her. "Let's go."
"Finally," Peyton said under her breath. She got into her car and waited for Brooke to lock the front door before she started it.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet, and Peyton knew it was because Brooke was nervous. Her best friend acted tough most of the time but Peyton knew that deep down Brooke was as insecure as the next person. To not stress her out even more, Peyton kept quiet and instead turned the radio on.
They arrived at the restaurant just in time and Peyton could see Chase already waiting for Brooke outside.
"Now listen," Peyton began, trying to keep a straight face, "you are a grown woman, and I expect you'll take your responsibilities when it comes to using protection, but just in case you haven't," Peyton reached over Brooke and opened the glove compartment, "here are some condoms. Use them wisely." She let out a laugh when she saw Brooke's disgusted face.
"Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer," Brooke said through clenched teeth, "put those back right now."
"But, Brooke," Peyton grinned, "I'm not ready to be an aunt yet."
"Shut up," Brooke couldn't help but laugh. "You are the worst."
"I love you too," Peyton answered with a grin, happy to have relieved some of the tension and hoping that Brooke was a little bit more relaxed. "Now go and have fun."
"Thanks babe," Brooke said before she got out of the car.
Peyton watched as Brooke greeted Chase with a hug and smiled when Brooke hooked arms with him as they walked into the restaurant.
She had just signaled to get back the road when she heared a police siren behind her. Looking in her rearview mirror she saw the same officer that helped her with her light getting out of the car. Shaking her head, Peyton rolled her window down and waited.
"We really have to stop meeting like this," the man grinned as leaned against her car.
"Are you the only cop Tree Hill has?" Peyton muttered under her breath.
"There are ten of us, actually," he replied, unfazed by her comment. "But the rest is not nearly as good-looking as I am."
Peyton snorted, "And I guess that's a good thing?"
"That's for you to decide," The officer gave a nod toward the back of the car, "I'm happy to see your lights are still working."
"Came to admire your handy work?" Peyton asked with a smile when she realized he was just making small talk and not stopping her because she did something wrong. It was probably another quiet night for him.
"I have to say, you have some fine looking taillights, ma'am," he offered.
"Thank you," Peyton accepted the compliment with another smile. "Anything else I can help you with, officer?"
He shook his head, "Not really."
"Alright," Peyton nodded, "Well, I'll see you around then."
"That you will," the officer tapped his hat and walked back to his car.
Reviews are appreciated :)