Every Drop Counts 1

Hello, everyone. It has been too long, sorry for the delay! Things have been crazy here, but I think life is settling down now; I hope you all had an excellent holiday, I did! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new story. Please review!

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Benjamin Braeden sat in the principle's office tapping the toe of his sneaker on the floor. He didn't know why, but whenever something was worrying him, and God knows that was literally all the time at his house, he did. He'd fidget, and move, and dance his feet. Right now, it was to something he'd listened to this morning. Not willingly, mind you, but what could a man do when their Mom had it playing out loud? Yeah, Mom liked soft music, plus other stuff depending on what time of the year it was.

This morning's concert was something holiday-ish, if that was a word. Thing was, Ben just couldn't remember the name. It was catchy though. Ben didn't mind music like that, Christmas was cool and all, but his music was better. Plain and simple. For Ben, classic rock from the hair bands of the 70's and 80's was the best thing since sliced bread. Or that amazing cheese in a can, that was gold. Pure gold.

Come to think of it, and Ben did, the principle's office was almost a gold color, or maybe yellow, because everyone knows how happy it is to find your sorry ass at the principal's, yeah, real cheery. Ben snorted. On a more positive note, Mr. Martin wasn't in right now. That meant the entire office was Ben's at the moment, well, his to sit quietly and wait in since the secretary, Ms. Fritz, was watching him out the window behind his head.

Ben was sitting on a wooden chair with a few screws missing and a hell of a lot of scribbles all over it. He needed to remember to bring a sharpie next time; the other kids just weren't doing justice to the name of vandalism. Not that there would be a next time, or that he'd been there just a week before because of a problem in the girl's bathroom. What could he say? Ben loved girls, girls loved him, and he always wanted to lend a helping hand. Ben grinned at the memory. Alice Mason was a great kisser, lots of tongue and the smell of strawberries to last him for hours. Yep, she was pretty great.

Anyway, for being on death row, or as close to it as a kid could get, it wasn't too bad. Ben picked at a promising piece of wood, a nice splinter waiting to happen, while he waited. And Ben hated waiting. Really hated it, especially when it wasn't even his fault. Well, mostly not. Worst was though, Dean was going to kill him. Ben gulped involuntarily.

XXXXX

It had all started three months ago in third period, Mr. Carlson's history class. And anyone who knows anything knows that history is dumb as shit, or at least Ben thought so. The lectures were boring, the pictures were boring, and everything was about a bunch of old, dead white guys. Mostly though, Ben didn't see the point. Sure, school was important and all, or so Sam told him all the freaking time, but history was dumb, just dumb. History was gone and it was time to live in the present, YOLO, man.

But, since he was stuck there, Ben, like any normal person when they're bored, carved up his desk with his pocketknife, looked around the room, and daydreamed. Mainly about girls, and lately, mainly about Alice, but who could blame him? Plenty of the other kids did the same, it seemed pretty standard and normal. Or at least Ben thought that was normal, he was, mostly. But if he wasn't, normal was overrated, and Ben definitely wasn't that. No, he was cool. Of course, he'd made it to his eight grade year, which meant he'd survived almost his entire career in middle school, which was no small feat. Anyway, this class was one of Ben's last milestones before high school. But it sucked, majorly.

Mr. Carlson's classroom wasn't very big and the carpet was the color of calico vomit, with blue, maroon, gray, and brown colored speckles. Probably so you couldn't see all of the crap on the floor, because what no one can see or know about won't kill them. Anyway, Ben could've sworn he'd seen Janssen Ryals having an emergency stomach evacuation by the door last year, and that was not pretty. The damn floor should've turned green; Ben knew Janssen sure had. But yeah, the floor was gross.

But the floor wasn't all bad. In fact, if you found something important on it, the other kids would all want to have it and you could make a killing. The classroom would turn into an auction for shouting matches and trade items thrown around. Ben wasn't the only one to have walked home a few times with some cash in his pockets, promises seared into his brain, or other miscellaneous trinkets. Besides valuables, the floor was prone to fraying and holes. The thing was, Ben's history classroom was on the second floor of their school, so the floor was on top of the ceiling of another classroom. This meant that when he discovered the hole in the carpet, it wasn't shallow, but an opportunity for a great deal of experimenting.

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On this fateful day, Ben was sitting at his desk, or mostly at it, when Zach Rowe strode confidently into the room, modeling a brand new pair of neon Nike's. Ben never got flashy shoes like that, not that they were all that great. Naw, a good pair of boots or well-worn sneakers suited him just fine, but it would have been cool. Ben's friend hopped onto the desk beside him, sitting on it with his green clad feet in plain sight. And they were a pretty fine pair of green feet, if Ben did say so himself.

"Where'd you get those?" Ben asked.

Zach shrugged. "I'm spending the weekend with my Dad. Mom says she can't deal with me right now, so he and I went shopping. Pretty neat, huh?"

Ben nodded. Zach's parents had been divorced for a few years now, he knew, and it sucked. Ben didn't have it much better, of course, but at least Dean and his Mom loved each other. Zach said that his parents wouldn't stand in the same room as each other. And to be honest, his Dad sounded like a dick.

"They're great, Zach."

Ben smiled, pulling a bouncy ball from his backpack, bouncing it on the floor and back into his hand. It was one of those bigger ones, which were supposed to bounce more. They didn't though, but they were bigger. And maybe cooler, Ben couldn't decide. Up and down, the ball made a loud thud every time it hit the floor, which didn't have much spring or anything. He was probably annoying the crap out of some teacher downstairs, but who really cared? Zach and Ben grinned and everyone else buzzed about other things.

The blue, green, and tie-dye ball spun around, and Ben would snatch it out of the air just before it flew past him each time. He bounced it hard so it smacked the ground with extra speed and a louder thud and up towards Zach. Ben watched his friend catch it, but just barely.

"Hey," Ben began, "Can you come over later? I mean, I know you're staying with your Dad…"

Zach shrugged. "He wouldn't mind. I think someone from work is coming to dinner, so I'd need to be back, but yeah."

He rolled his arm back, launching the ball towards Ben, who threw his hand out to keep it from continuing to Mindy Jenning's desk. Or her head, which would have been pretty bad. Yeah, Ben never woulda heard the end of that one. She was pretty stuck up, and girls suck at catching things. Ben couldn't help but grin though; her squeals would have been priceless. Come to think of it, he kind of liked her voice…

Just then, Mr. Carlson sniffed loudly up in the front of the room by the pull down map. There were a lot of them, and as Ben noticed, his tie was another one. Mr. Carlson straightened his tie, or moved it, 'cause it was worse now. Oh well, it suited him, Ben thought with another grin. He looked back over at Zach who smirked. Yep, he saw it too.

Mr. Carlson seemed to think it was fine though, because he paused, clasping his hands, "Alright everyone, I'd appreciate faces forward and behinds in seats, not on desks, Zachary."

He gave Zach a pointed look and Ben couldn't help but grin. Yeah, it wasn't hard to annoy Mr. Carlson. The dude kinda had it coming… everyone knows you can't be so stiff in life. There's no fun in that.

A few stragglers made their way back to their desks to sit down, some turned around, and Aaron Norton tossed a wad of paper neatly into the trashcan. A small ripple of appreciative murmurs went through the room, because talent like that just couldn't be ignored. Mr. Carlson fixed a few kids with glares, but no one was likely paying attention, Ben barely was.

Mr. Carlson headed around his desk, sitting down at the computer to scan through the names of poor souls stuck in class and Ben started his ritual of day dreaming, if you wanted to call it that. It was probably half way through class, Ben wasn't sure, since he was so good at tuning everything out and thinking about other, cooler stuff, when he noticed a hole in the carpet.

It was a little thing, maybe an inch or so around, where the edges of the carpet had separated and were frayed. Ben wasn't sure why, but it caught his attention. Dark things always did. Closets, tunnels, holes, you name it, Ben was interested. It wasn't very big, of course, but it could fit something in it. He looked around the room. Some people were holding their heads up with their hands, elbows temptingly close to the edges of their desks, had they been within reach, and most people had that glazed look. Shoot me now, they seemed to say. Others scribbled notes, but that was mainly the nerds, and Zach, but Zach liked history so he couldn't be lumped in with them.

Ben huffed quietly as he watched Mr. Carlson continue his tirade up front. Oh, the ball! Ben could have sworn a light bulb flashed over his head, because man, he was a genius, if he did say so himself. Ben carefully looked up front. Mr. Carlson was busy spitting about something that happened too long ago and was writing on the white board. Mostly stuff he didn't give a damn about, sorry Sam. Ben quickly slipped his hand into his backpack, pulling the ball out and grabbing a pencil. He let them slip out of his hands to the side of his desk and watched as they rolled towards the hole. Mindy glared at him before turning back to the front. Eh, what did he care?

Ben stepped out of his desk, crouching down by the items he dropped and tried putting the ball in the hole. Nope, it didn't work, it was too big, but the hole would fit something smaller…

"Benjamin, please sit back in your seat and listen. This will be on the quiz on Thursday." Mr. Carlson's voice cut through Ben's thoughts loudly.

A few chuckles and snickers met Ben's ears, but mostly a group of bored glares. Mr. Carlson was one of those teachers that didn't let you out until he was finished, because he didn't really give a damn about the bell. Well folks, class will be ending a little late today… as if it wouldn't already. Ben just turned back to slide nonchalantly into his desk seat. Zach gave him a quizzical look and Ben just shrugged. You'll see man, you'll see.

TBC