Sydney at Sixteen AKA Roxy's Birthday Fic
This story was written for Roxy, who turned 16 today. Yay, Roxy!!!
Oh! And please note that I am in no way condoning getting in trouble at school or getting suspended despite Sydney's last thoughts at the end of the story. I don't want Roxy's mom coming after me to give me one of Syd's famous kicks to the head!
Disclaimer: I don't own Relic Hunter or any of the characters in this story except Bobby, the Stooges, and Kristen. The storyline, however is mine. Would TPTB really want it??
Anyway, here goes...
--
Sydney sat in between Tony and Trish on the bleacher bench. She was leaning back, slouched and as comfortable as she could get on the unrelenting wood. Her pom poms hung from one hand and her other was in Tony's. On the grass nearby, Trish's boyfriend Bobby lay with his hands behind his head.
"So, how was practice?" Tony asked, the little growl that she liked in his voice.
She squeezed his hand and smiled. "It wasn't too bad. Trish came over and took some shots for the paper."
Sydney's best friend snorted. "Yeah. I was just dying to hang out with a bunch of girls with perfect bodies to remind me how uncool I am."
This made Sydney laugh. Despite being on the cheerleading squad and dating a football jock, she was not one of the in-crowd and had never tried to be. She preferred hanging out with kids with brains and substance, and all too often the so-called cool kids just thought they had that.
"You could always give them beards and mustaches and call the article something like, "Dangerous Hormones Found in Lalani High Water Supply"."
Trish grimaced, tucking a dark strand of hair behind one ear. "Funny, Syd."
"I like it," Bobby announced.
"You would," Trish said, taking one of Sydney's pom poms and throwing it at him. It landed in the middle of his face. "How much time do we have before we head back to class?"
Tony looked at his watch. "About fifteen minutes. Shouldn't you be studying for your chemistry test?"
Trish groaned, but Sydney answered, since they were in the same chemistry class. "We were up until midnight studying. Dad had to come in and kick her out so I'd go to bed. He was not pleased. I think we're about as ready as we're going to get."
"Didn't Trish fail the last one?"
"I blame..." Trish started but stopped abruptly when Sydney held up a a hand and sat up straight.
"Who's that?"
A small, skinny kid had wandered onto the field. She looked to be about thirteen, but she was probably a year or two older. Blond hair curled untidily around a thin, freckled face.
Behind her lurked three boys that Sydney knew very well, though she wished she didn't. She thought of John, Vince, and Leroy as the Stooges because they were big and not very bright. Most people knew to stay out of their way because each of them had a very mean streak.
"Who?" Trish asked.
Sydney pointed to the girl.
"Oh, that's Kristen Hey. Her sister Juanita was new in my English class this morning."
Sydney watched grimly as the Stooges approached Kristen. Instinctively, she knew there was going to be trouble. She tensed, waiting for it. Around her, her friends resumed talking about the chemistry test and what they were going to do after school. Sydney tuned them out as she watched the scene nearby.
It didn't take long for John, Vince, and Leroy to overtake Kristen Hey. She looked startled when Vince, the biggest Stooge, put a meaty hand on her shoulder. She was soon circled by the Stooges, who were talking loudly and pushing her. Sydney couldn't hear the words, but she knew they weren't flattering. Then, Leroy gave Kristen a shove so hard that she tripped and sprawled on the ground. All three boys laughed.
Without thinking, Sydney was on her feet and making her way down to the field. Anger roiled in her body, and her face flushed with heat. It was bad enough when the Stooges chose to bully bookish boys their own age. Picking on a terrified freshman who couldn't hope to fight back crossed the line.
As she got closer, Sydney could hear Kristen crying. It made the boys laugh harder.
"Oh, did you hurt yourself, midget?" John asked.
"Do you need some help up?" Vince snickered.
Leroy just nudged her cruelly with his sneaker. This made Kristen cry even more. Her body visibly shook with sobs, and she didn't even bother to try to get up.
"Hey, jerks," Sydney said, dropping her lone pom pom to plant her fists on her hips.
The boys glanced in her direction, and John said, "Stay out of this, Fox. If we wanted a cheerleader's opinion, we'd have asked for it."
Under her breath, Sydney growled, "Oh, you're asking for it, all right."
The Stooges turned their backs on her to start tormenting their victim again. Sydney's anger went up another notch.
"Either the three of you leave Kristen alone, or I'll break about three bones each."
Leroy heaved a heavy sigh. "Maybe John didn't make himself clear. Why don't you be a good little girlie and go do whatever it is cheerleaders do with their pom poms?"
Vince laughed derisively. Sydney grit her teeth and strode forward. The boys were looking at her again, their faces showing mixtures of amusement, annoyance, and cruelty. She knew they expected her to be afraid. Probably, they had never met someone who wasn't.
Slowly and deliberately, Sydney reached out and put her hand on Vince's arm. "I told you to let the freshman go."
"And we always listen to wimp chicks," John said.
Vince just casually raised a hand to bat Sydney away. There was a smack as flesh met flesh, but not in the way the bully had expected. Sydney's wrist had caught the off-hand blow, stopping it short.
"I guess it's a good thing I'm not a wimp chick," she said. She couldn't help the accompanying cheeky grin that went with it.
Vince's eyes narrowed and he tried to hit her again, this time in earnest. Sydney barely registered Tony calling her name from the stands. She had never needed a boy to protect her, and she didn't need one now. She ducked Vince's blow and brought her knee up hard. Vince made a sound like a choking pig and dropped to the ground.
Sydney sensed Leroy's hands coming for her and ducked out of the way. He stumbled a bit when his hands closed on air. She whirled, knowing John was behind her, and punched him twice in the face. She smiled when she heard a crack and blood gushed out of his nose. She quickly jabbed with her elbow, catching Leroy in the stomach. He bent over, and she hit him in the chin with her knee.
"What's going on here?" A stern voice made Sydney freeze.
"She brog by doze," John said miserably.
Mr. Ian Graham, one of the few teachers who didn't like Sydney, looked at the four students—four because Kristen Hey had taken the distraction of the fight to slip away—with distaste. For the first time, Sydney noticed that a crowd had gathered and felt her face heat again, this time with embarrassment.
"Brawling is forbidden on the school grounds."
"You don't understand, Mr. Graham. Sydney was just..." Trish, who was suddenly at Sydney's elbow protested.
The teacher held up a hand and said crossly, "I don't want to hear it. I want the four of you in Mrs. Watanabe's office immediately."
Sydney grimaced as she met first Trish's then Tony's eyes. Trish smiled helplessly, and Tony gave her a little wink. That wink calmed the butterflies that were starting to flutter around in her stomach. Sydney had not been in a fight since coming to Lalani, at least not during school hours, and she wondered what the consequences would be.
As Mr. Graham pointed a bony finger and ordered, "March," she knew she wouldn't wonder for very long.
--
Leigh Watanabe was a small but formidable woman whose jet black hair was cut in a severe, no-nonsense style. It suited her personality, and the look she aimed at her wayward students was as sharp as any knife.
The four of them sat close together on orange plastic chairs. Sydney had managed to put some distance between herself and the objects of her ire, but not much. The secretary had given John some ice for his nose as they waited for the school nurse, and Sydney felt some satisfaction at the pained expression that crossed his face as he held the cold bundle to his nose—that and the marvelous black eye he was developing.
The head mistress regarded them coldly for a few minutes from behind her desk. Her dark eyes glittered and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly.
"A brawl," she said at last. "Four of my students involved in a brawl on school grounds. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"It was her fault," Vince said immediately, pointing to Sydney. "Fox started it."
"Yes, and I suppose the three of you were just innocently walking by when she tackled you from the bleachers, hmmnn?"
Sydney was tempted to chuckle but, knowing it would lead to disaster, she bit her lip. She managed to keep a solemn, half frightened look on her face.
"As you know, violence is not tolerated at this school. Since you are repeat offenders," she indicated the boys, "you will have a month's suspension..."
"But, my dad will kill me," John protested.
"If you don't want to face the punishment, you must refrain from committing the indiscretion."
'In other words,' Sydney thought, still slightly amused, 'Don't do the crime if you can't do the time.' Her amusement was wiped away when the head mistress's steely black eyes turned to her. Despite her diminutive form, Mrs. Watanabe had a glare that could freeze blood.
"As for you, Miss Fox, I'm giving you a one week suspension. That should give you time to think and realize that you do not want to associate with the criminal element at this school."
Sydney heard Vince hiss under his breath and couldn't help blurting, "I wasn't associating with them."
"Then how did you come to be rolling around with them in the dirt?"
Stung, she opened her mouth to protest that the only thing soiling her uniform was the blood from John's nose, but Mrs. Watanabe interrupted. "Save your breath, Sydney. You've been a model student until now, and I hope that will continue after the uproar from this episode settles down, whatever the cause."
"'Yes, ma'am," she said suddenly, looking down at her hands. What she wanted to do was get up and bop John, Vince, and Leroy again for getting her into trouble. What would her father say?
As if reading her mind, the head mistress said, "Mr. Graham has already called your parents, and they're on their way here. Your suspension starts immediately. You will wait in the reception area until they arrive. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sydney's sullen voice was joined by three others.
"Good. You are dismissed."
--
Hoping to forget they existed, Sydney sat as far away from the Stooges as she could. She tried to shut them out completely as she wondered what her father would say. He was the one who taught her how to box and the one who enrolled her in martial arts classes when other kids were still learning to spell their names, but he might not think that using her knowledge to pound a couple of bullies was a responsible way to share his gifts. Since her mother had died and it suddenly became just the two of them, Sydney had lived in fear of disappointing him. He was all she had left.
As she sat and worried, she noticed Trish walking by the glass that separated the room from the hallway. Her dark haired friend raised her eyebrows in question. Sydney looked around and saw the secretary was busy on the phone, so she dramatically drew her finger across her throat. Trish screwed up her face in sympathy, and Sydney held up her other hand and wiggled all five fingers.
"That sucks." Sydney could easily read Trish's lips through the glass, and it made her feel better. She just nodded in agreement.
"Who are you waving to?" Leroy asked gruffly, coming over to Sydney's side of the room.
"Leave me alone, Leroy, or I'll break your nose too."
He laughed a genuine laugh. "You know what, Fox? You're all right."
She didn't feel all right as Trish hurried back to class and she was left with the Stooges. The nurse had patched up John's nose, and he sat there quietly glaring at the world. Vince was shooting Sydney dirty looks, but she wasn't afraid of him. With Trish gone, her mind was free to wander back to her father and whether he would be upset with her.
Then, his face appeared in the window, and Sydney felt her stomach clench. He wasn't hard to spot. He towered over the few students and one teacher currently moving through the hallway.
"Who's that?" Vince asked. "He's huge."
"He must be eight feet tall," Leroy agreed, awe in his voice.
"Don't be so stupid," Sydney snapped. "He's only six foot six."
All three boys paled at that, especially John. Sydney barely noticed as she fought the impulse to hide as her father came into the room. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, with a smudge of grease on one cheek. He passed by the four teenagers and went to the desk.
"Hello, I'm Randall Fox. I'm here to pick up my daughter."
The secretary handed him a white envelope, probably a hard copy of his daughter's punishment, and pointed at Sydney. Randall eyed the three boys before lifting an eyebrow at her.
She grimaced at him and got to her feet. Suddenly, she was aware that she had lost her pom poms. For some reason, that made her flush with guilt.
"Dad..."
"Not now, Sydney. We'll talk about this when we get home."
Pain flooded her, and she expressed it by glaring hatefully at the Stooges. Randall almost always wanted to hear her side of things first.
A heavy hand on her shoulder forced her gaze away from John, Vince, and Leroy and led her out of the office. The hand was so big that it made Sydney feel like a child, and she wanted to scream her rage in a tantrum like one. She held it in, telling herself that she wasn't a child and she could not allow herself to seem so in front of the boys peering at her through the office window.
--
The silence lasted all the way home. It even lasted after they slammed the car doors and Randall unlocked the house. As they entered the living room, Randall sighed and flopped down in his favorite chair. Steepling his fingers, he looked at Sydney over the top of them.
"Please sit down, Scootchie."
Sydney winced at the familiar childish nickname and sat on the nearby couch. She crossed her legs and put her hands placidly on her knees. She refused to look intimidated.
"You are sixteen years old," he said, looking into her eyes with that direct way he had. "You're too old for brawling."
"But, Dad..." She couldn't help protesting, but she clamped her teeth together before she could say more.
His gaze sharpened, and a dangerous edge came to his features. Slowly, as if trying to keep the menace from his voice—though Sydney heard it anyway—he asked, "Those boys didn't try to hurt you, did they?"
"No." She shook her head emphatically. "Nothing like that. I would have broken more than just one nose for that."
Her father's face relaxed into something more natural. "Then what was it? School is not a place to start kicking heads."
Sydney had already made up her mind to keep Kristen's name out of things. She figured the girl had had enough harassment from the Stooges. "They made me angry."
"A lot of things in life are going to make you angry. You can't just pulverize all of them."
"It's not..." she started, but he interrupted. His voice was gentle, with no hint of the anger she had been expecting.
"I understand. You are more like me than you realize. Come here."
Sydney stood up and went to him. Despite the fact that he was sitting, their eyes still met. He took her hands and squeezed them. She suddenly knew that there would be no punishment beyond the one given by Mrs. Watanabe. There wouldn't even be any yelling or anger. Instead, he was going to tell her something he believed she needed to hear.
"I'm going to tell you something my own father told me when I was your age. Sydney, life is full of battles. We fight them every day. Most of the time, we fight with our minds or our hearts. Sometimes, though, we use our fists. The thing about fists is that they hurt people. You can't just go hitting everyone and everything that makes you mad. You'll only become a bully. Words are almost always better than violence. When you fight, make sure it's something worth fighting for."
Sydney thought this over carefully. She remembered the times she had seen his father raise his fists in anger. They were few, and, yes, they had been important. She was also sure that what she had done that day was just as important. She never wanted to be someone who stood by when she could prevent someone else from getting hurt.
"This was, Dad."
"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her face.
"Yes." Her answer was firm.
"Then, that's all I need to know."
"Thanks." What she meant was: Thanks for not asking questions. Thanks for believing me again. Thanks for talking to me instead of giving righteous punishment.
"You're welcome. Now, go up and change. I'm going to make us some dinner."
He didn't have to tell her twice. All she wanted to do was go upstairs, throw on her biggest pajamas, and write about her day in her journal. She also wanted to call Trish, but that had to wait until Trish got home at four.
All in all, she admitted to herself on the way to her room, she figured she had gotten off easy. Her father wasn't mad at her, and she was proud of what she had done. She doubted the Stooges would be harassing Kristen again.
"And," she whispered evilly to herself, knowing it was supposed to be, in the adult mind anyway, a bad thing, "I get a week off school!"
The end.