My Best Friend's Girl
Author's Note: So as I begin to wind down Viva Las Vegas, I decided to pick up a story that I had started years ago when fanfiction first got popular, but there was really no place to put 90210 fiction. I was inspired by my muse, Jianna, and her wonderful Summer Lovin' story, since this fic is set waaaaay back in the days of the first season. In fact, it's really fun to rewrite show history, as great as some of the "real" stuff was. For example, this fic is pre-Spring Dance (gasp!), an ep I really love. It's set just before the events of the episode "Stand (Up) and Deliver." Don't worry, Brenda's not running away from home this time, but Brandon is running for class president.
Okay, enough of my blabbering. Onto My Best Friend's Girl
Chapter 1: High School Confidential
Brandon Walsh sighed and clicked the backspace key again, erasing the entire sentence he had just written. He stared at the blinking cursor, its rhythmic pulsing reminding him he had nothing on the screen and two hours until his story on the swim team's unprecedented tenth straight state title was due to Andrea. Swiveling around in his chair, he glanced at the wall clock and was dismayed to realize he had just five minutes left in his study hall. Ditching Spanish was not an option, he knew, so if he was going to attempt to finish the story at all, it was going to involve missing lunch.
"Thought I'd find you holed away in here," a voice called as the door to the office of the Beverly Blaze creaked open.
"Hey Bren," he replied, not taking his eyes off the blank screen. "What's up?"
"I forgot my lunch," she replied, her voice more dramatic than it needed to be over a forgotten brown-bag. He rolled his eyes and stood, jamming his hand into his rear jeans pocket. His fingers closed over his wallet, and he slid it out, thumbing through it for a couple of dollar bills.
"Thanks, Brandon," Brenda beamed, her hand outstretched to take the money. Brandon held it above her head.
"Ah-ah," he chided. "Not so fast, my penniless twin. I'll loan you this on one condition." Brenda crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"I am not doing your chores again this week," she huffed, remembering last week when she had agreed to do Brandon's share of the dishwashing, recycling and vacuuming in exchange for him keeping silent about two consecutive nights she had snuck in after curfew. It had been worth it though, she smiled to herself, picturing herself in Dylan's car with him down by the beach.
"Relax," he snorted. "I just want you to buy me a soda and bring it here at lunch."
"Deadline looming?"
"Yup," he nodded, holding out the bills. She snatched them triumphantly.
"You've got nothing, right?"
"You know me so well, sister dear."
"I'll bring you your Coke. Gotta go. Dylan's waiting for me."
"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he yelled at her as she swung open the door. She turned and gave him a wink.
"Long bathroom break. Girl troubles." She giggled and slammed the door behind her. He shook his head at his sister's lovesick behavior. Brenda was no saint, not by any means, but back in Minnesota, she had never so much as ditched a class. Her relationship with Dylan McKay was certainly partly to blame for the change in her attitude.
He pulled out the desk chair, poised to sit back down, but swore silently as the bell rang loudly, signaling the end of third period. He kicked at the chair and gathered his Spanish text and notebook from the desk. It would take divine inspiration for him to draft a really good piece within the forty minutes lunch provided him, but he was going to have to try. Besides, Andrea would no doubt change half of what he wrote anyway.
Speaking of the Devil, as Brandon opened the Blaze office door, he was greeted by none other than Andrea Zuckerman herself.
"Oh, hey, Brandon," she smiled, shifting the large messenger bag she carried over her left shoulder. Brandon knew it was stuffed full of copy after copy of stories for that week's edition of The Blaze, no doubt marked to the margins with Andrea's infamous red pen.
"Hey, Chief, no time to chat. I gotta get to Spanish, I'm actually betting on a pop quiz today." He brushed past her and began to walk down the crowded halls of West Beverly High.
"You have your article done yet?" she called after him.
"It's a work in progress," he replied over his shoulder. "You'll get your story, Zuckerman." He picked up his pace and dodged bodies left and right, weaving his way among the throng of students milling about, most not wanting to get to class a moment earlier than necessary. He caught a glimpse of Brenda, leaning against her locker, Dylan's arm slung casually around her as Brenda animatedly engaged in a conversation with her best friends, Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin. As he walked past them, he met Kelly's eyes, and she flashed him a smile as she continued talking with Brenda and Donna. He returned her smile and felt a hand clap on his shoulder.
"Brandon, man, where have you been?"
"Hey, Steve," Brandon greeted the guy who had quickly become his best friend when he and Brenda transferred to West Beverly High School from Minneapolis last fall. "I spent study hall in the office, trying to get my stupid swim team story done by today's deadline."
"Andrea still giving you the bottom-feeder stories, eh?" Steve chuckled. "Hugh Hefner himself couldn't make our swim team interesting. And I'm talking naked pictures included."
"The streak is admirable," Brandon replied. "It's just the same story week after week."
"Yeah, well, I missed you in study hall. Darla Dilts was wearing this incredible low-cut sweater, and I swear, you could see almost everything when she bent down to get her books out of her bag."
"Ah, so she's this week's Sanders Special Crush of the Week?" Brandon laughed as they arrived at the Spanish room, sliding into their seats just as the second bell rang, announcing the start of class.
"I definitely wouldn't mind getting a closer look at those goods," Steve returned, smirking knowingly. "She's on my list."
"You have a list?" Brandon shook his head incredulously.
"Don't judge me, Brandon," Steve quipped.
"Hola clase. Limpiar su escritorio para un concurso de pop," Senora Villara announced, waving a stack of papers in her left hand. Brandon smiled and placed his textbook under his desk, tapping his pencil against the edge of his desk.
"I knew it," he murmured.
"What'd she say?" Steve hissed.
"She said if you had done your homework, you'd do better on the pop quiz she's about to hand out." Steve's face fell.
"Pop quiz? Dammit."
"Buena suerte, mi amigo," Brandon grinned, grabbing the paper being passed to him and beginning his quiz in earnest. His grin spread as he heard Steve muttering a few obscenities under his breath from the seat behind him.
***
"You two make me sick," Kelly declared, rolling her eyes as she reached for a bottle of water in the line of the cafeteria. Brenda giggled and nuzzled closer to Dylan.
"Is that all you're eating?" Donna asked, grabbing a Chef salad from one of the serving stations running along the length of the wall.
"No, Mom," Kelly retorted, handing the lunch aide a dollar to pay for her water. "I brought something from home."
"Brenda, are you eating?" Donna asked.
"Yeah, I have to grab something. I forgot my lunch this morning."
"Shame on you, letting a Cindy Walsh special go to waste," Dylan joked.
"Knowing my mom, she saw it right away and it was safely stowed in the refrigerator for me to take tomorrow." Brenda scanned the racks, studying her options, and she settled on a chicken salad sandwich and a small fruit salad. She forked over the money her brother had lent her and paid for her meal.
Trays in hand, the girls, Dylan close at Brenda's side, wove their way through the labyrinth of cafeteria tables to the door at the rear of the cafeteria that opened out onto the quad of the West Beverly campus. They walked to their usual spot, settling under a large tree.
"Donna, how do you eat all that crap and stay so skinny?" Brenda lamented, enviously eyeing her friend's tray, brimming with a plate of chicken fingers, French fries and a brownie. Donna shrugged and took a slow sip from her Coke.
"My mother says it's in the Martin genes," she admitted sheepishly.
"Yeah, well, we'll see when we're thirty," Brenda teased.
"Gross. Can we please not talk about getting old?" Kelly wrinkled her nose, sliding a wrapped sandwich from a brown bag.
"Why aren't you eating?" Donna asked Dylan.
"Why do you ask everyone what they're eating?" Dylan replied back, not answering her question. Donna blushed and looked down at her plate, absently dragging a French fry back and forth through a mound of ketchup.
"What are we doing tomorrow night?" Kelly asked brightly, changing the subject. Brenda and Dylan exchanged a glance.
"Dylan and I sort of have plans," she began slowly.
"There's this restaurant off Santa Monica Pier," Dylan interjected. "Thought we'd take a drive down there and give it a whirl, spend a nice Friday evening together."
"Oh," Kelly said flatly. "That sounds nice." She turned to Donna. "So what should we do tomorrow?"
"Um, I think Tom Hartman is having a party," Donna offered.
"You don't still have a crush on him, do you?" Kelly challenged, leaning towards her friend. Donna pressed her lips into a thin line and avoided Kelly's eyes.
"Um…no?" she replied.
"You answered my question with a question," Kelly pointed out. "Don, Tom Hartman is a senior who doesn't give a second glance to girls who aren't cheerleaders. And last I checked, we had both abandoned our pom-poms in eighth grade."
"I know, Kel," Donna frowned, politely trying not to stare at Brenda and Dylan, who had started nuzzling each other, and Brenda was now practically sitting in his lap.
"And I'm pretty sure he's still dating Cammie Fisher," Kelly continued.
"Okay, Kelly," Donna sighed, exasperated. "But we can still go to the party anyway. It's better than sitting home."
"I suppose," she agreed, raising an eyebrow at Donna and rolling her eyes as she subtly nodded her head in the direction of Brenda and Dylan. Donna covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"You guys might want to come up for air," Kelly teased. "I'm not CPR certified if either of you stop breathing." Brenda and Dylan broke apart, Brenda dabbing at the corner of her lip and smiling ruefully.
"Sorry," she apologized, not really meaning it.
"You could have gotten CPR certification if you had taken the Rescue/Life Saving Health course I did last semester," Donna replied. Kelly sniffed.
"It was a joke, Don. But I never take those stupid Health classes. I'd rather take soccer or volleyball as my Phys-Ed option. Way hotter guys to ogle, and most of the gym teachers don't care if you just sit on the sidelines."
"That's a great reason, Kel. And you were giving me a hard time about stalking a guy at a party?"
"It's not stalking, it's admiring," Kelly shot back.
"Well, ladies, as much as I'm enjoying your stimulating lunch conversation, I'm going to have to bid you farewell." He leaned down and kissed the crown of Brenda's head.
"Where are you going? Lunch doesn't end for another twenty minutes."
"Yeah, I know," Dylan nodded, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "But I'm going to meet with Mrs. Teasley about registering for SATs." Brenda clapped her hands together giddily.
"Really, Dylan?" she exclaimed excitedly. She had been nagging him for weeks to stop being so stubborn and take the test like the rest of them, but Dylan had remained firm, arguing taking a college entrance exam was pointless when you weren't going to go to college.
"Yes, really," he replied, giving her a wry smile. "I think I can still make late registration for the session next month." Brenda jumped up and threw her arms around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered fiercely against his throat as he hugged her tightly.
"No promises, Bren," he warned. "This doesn't mean I've changed my mind about college."
"I can't believe we're going to have to start thinking about college and real-life stuff," Kelly lamented, picking a piece of turkey off her sandwich and popping it into her mouth. Brenda kissed Dylan goodbye and watched him saunter off towards the main office building where the guidance counselors were housed before sinking back down to the ground, crossing her legs at the ankles as she got comfortable.
"Let's not think about it," Donna declared. "Let's talk about important stuff. Like last weekend, my mom dragged me to some awful movie, but before it there was a preview for this movie that's coming out this summer with Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. So who do you think is hotter?" Brenda and Kelly glanced at each other, giggled, and the three friends resumed their girl talk until the bell rang.
***
Brandon tapped angrily at the keyboard, his irritation with his sister rising with every new word he typed. All he has asked was one little favor; all he wanted was a damn soda to give him a bit of a sugar rush as he worked on his story instead of eating. Glancing up at the clock, he knew that with just five minutes remaining in 5th period, Brenda had most likely forgotten.
His eyes scanned the screen, rereading what he had written for the third time now that his final sentence was in place. Not bad, he thought to himself. It certainly wasn't the kind of story that was going to win awards, but it served its purpose and gave the swim team its due.
"You finished?" Andrea was suddenly looming behind him, craning her neck over his shoulder to peek at the screen. Brandon turned in his chair and found her face just inches from his, surprising her so that she jumped back, startled.
"Just have to hit 'print'," he replied. His stomach rumbled loudly as he clicked the button, and the printer whirred to life.
"I guess someone's hungry," Andrea smiled.
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when writers skip lunch to meet deadlines," he lamented. "My sister was supposed to bring me a soda, but I'm sure with her busy social schedule, even here at school, she forgot."
"I saw your sister earlier when I was getting my lunch," Andrea said thoughtfully. "She was with Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin."
"Yeah, the Three Musketeers," Brandon mused, picturing Brenda and her two blonde friends once more. It wasn't that he didn't like Kelly and Donna. They were just so different from the friends Brenda had had back in Minnesota that it was taking some getting used to Brenda being around girls like them. Donna was cute in her own way, and she was funny, from the time Brandon had spent with her. She could be a little spacey, Brandon thought, and she was always talking about a different guy any time Brandon overheard girl talk coming from the Walsh kitchen.
Kelly, on the other hand, was easily the most beautiful girl Brandon had seen outside the pages of a magazine. He remembered when he first saw her, the day he and Brenda had pulled into the parking lot of West Beverly High in the beat-up old station wagon the Walsh family affectionately called Mondale, in honor of the former Vice-President, a Minnesota born-and-bred icon. She had taken his breath away, and Brandon had decided if this is what California girls were made of, he was going to like it in Beverly Hills. Much to his regret, however, Kelly had made an appearance in his home, introduced to him as Brenda's new friend, and Brandon had made it a general rule not to pursue any of Brenda's friends. Not anymore.
Then there was the issue of Kelly's sticky past with Steve Sanders. Brandon knew they had dated; Steve was more than happy to remind everyone of that, and he also knew Kelly had broken Steve's heart. Steve was not over Kelly, Brandon strongly suspected, and going after a friend's girl, former or not, was another rule he tried to abide by. Kelly Taylor was strictly off-limits.
"She was with Dylan McKay too," Andrea continued, snapping Brandon back to reality from his wandering mind. "They're dating, aren't they?"
"Yeah," Brandon nodded. Dylan was most likely the reason for Brenda's forgetfulness, Brandon deduced. The bell rang, a sharp, jarring signal bouncing off the walls of the small office.
"What class do you have next?" Andrea asked.
"U.S. History," Brandon replied, shutting down the computer he had used. He knew Andrea and the other editors would be working on the final touches that afternoon, but he also knew Andrea was anal-retentive about which computer she used, and it wouldn't be the one he had just finished using.
"I've got Geometry," she replied. "It's on the way to your class. Wanna walk me there?" she requested shyly. Brandon looked over at the girl who was staring back at him, her eyes wide behind her rimmed glasses.
"Sure," he smiled. He held the office door open for her, and as they stepped outside, Brandon nearly collided with none other than Kelly Taylor.
"Watch where you're…hi, Brandon," Kelly's tone changed immediately when she met Brandon's eyes.
"Kelly, hey," he smiled kindly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you."
"That's okay," she shrugged. "No worries. I didn't see you at lunch today." She pushed a lock of her silky blonde hair behind her ear and smiled coyly at him.
"Ah, yeah, well, I had to finish a story for the paper that was due by this afternoon. Andrea can be a real slave driver," he joked good-naturedly, nudging the shorter girl. Kelly's eyes swept over Andrea, as if she was just aware that the brunette was standing there.
"Oh, hi, Andrea," Kelly smiled politely.
"Kelly," Andrea replied simply.
"You had lunch with my sister, I assume. She was supposed to bring me a soda," he told Kelly. Kelly flipped her hair over her shoulder again.
"She was preoccupied with Dylan, big surprise there," Kelly replied, giving Brandon a knowing glance. "I would have gotten you a soda if I knew you needed one."
"Brandon, we'd better get to class," Andrea spoke up, clearing her throat.
"You're not in our class, Andrea," Kelly replied smoothly. "I was just on my way to History, Brandon. I assume that's where you're heading?" Brandon realized that, yes, he did share a history class with Kelly, though she sat clear across the room and there was usually little opportunity for chit-chat. Mr. Wells was all business.
"Yeah, I was," he nodded, watching Andrea shift uncomfortably beside him. His eyes wandered from the lithe blonde standing before him to the shorter, bookish girl next to him. They couldn't be more different, he mused. But he also felt caught in the middle, and the situation was quickly becoming awkward. "I think we'd all better get going or we're going to earn late passes."
"Wouldn't be my first," Kelly breezed, still smiling at him.
"Wouldn't be your first what?" sneered a voice. Kelly rolled her eyes and didn't even bother turning around.
"What do you want, Steve?" she demanded irritably. Steve smirked.
"I can think of at least two things," he leered. Kelly narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
"Shouldn't you be going to class?" she retorted. Brandon noticed how tense she had become, her slender body straight as an arrow, her shoulders squared.
"Probably," he laughed.
"Well, Brandon, I can't wait any longer, I've got to get to geometry," Andrea piped up. "I'm sure your story is great, but if it needs any work, I'll phone you at home tonight, okay?"
"Sure," he agreed, giving her an apologetic smile as she walked away, not giving Kelly or Steve a second look.
"We should go too, Brandon," Kelly said, her eyes still shooting daggers at Steve.
"I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" Steve mocked.
"You are such a jerk!" Kelly spun on her heel and without another word to either guy, flounced off down the hall. Brandon shook his head.
"Why do you revel in goading her so much, Steve?" he asked, his eyes following her blonde head disappearing down the hall.
"She hurt me. I enjoy returning the favor," Steve replied bluntly. The ringing of the bell sounded throughout the hall, and Brandon swore to himself, knowing Mr. Wells was all too happy to hand out late passes. The man was a sadist, and he clearly enjoyed his authority over teenagers.
"You've got a lot to learn about women, Steve," Brandon called as he began to sprint down the hall.
"Like you're an expert!" Steve returned. "I'll stop by the Pit later tonight. We've got a Friday evening to plan!" Brandon sighed and remembered that he was, indeed, working that evening.
At least he could grab a quick dinner before his shift started, he thought as his stomach grumbled loudly again, practically echoing in the now-empty hall, as he raced towards history class.
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Author's Note 2: So there you have it, the start to another fic. It's really not proofread cause I wanted to get something, anything up for Jianna tonight, so my apologies if I missed anything! I hope it reads like the old episodes viewed, and I hope you feel the characters the way they were way back in 1991. As the title suggests, I'm heading for another story of how B/K might have gotten together…but I'll make it interesting, I promise!
Fic title belongs to the Cars, chapter title to Jerry Lee Lewis!