I hope everyone is having a fantastic day and please enjoy the newest Carter/Frankie story. This one takes place directly before We Stand Together Or Not At All, so you can either read this one, then read We Stand Together Or Not At All, or you can read We Stand Together Or Not At All and then this one. It really doesn't matter what order you read them in, but they do go hand in hand.

WARNINGS: INCEST, BRIEF SEXUAL REFERENCES, A BAD WORD

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OCs, including but not limited to: Carly Torrents, Mrs. Abbot, Leo Moore, Hazel McLean, and other minor OCs mentioned throughout the story.

The morning of Monday, January 12th dawned like any other morning with the roaring beep, beep, beep! of an alarm clock.

Carter Hughes groaned as he threw an arm onto the alarm clock, smacking the button and silencing the darned thing.

A shuffling in the bunk above him told him Frankie was rousing. She always seemed to be able to hop up the minute the alarm clock went off, energetic as a butterfly as she fluttered about to get ready for school. Carter, on the other hand, preferred to hit the snooze button at least three times before even opening his eyes.

However, Frankie always made sure to drag him out of bed, even if she had to squirt him with freezing cold water to do it, almost like he was a cat.

"You certainly sleep as much as a cat," Frankie tended to joke whenever he brought up the fact that he was not a cat after being sprayed with water almost every morning.

"Time to get up, Carter, or I'll get the squirt bottle!" Frankie called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom, and Carter soon heard the shower turn on with the rumbling of pipes and the abrupt sound of water hitting the tub as the showerhead turned on.

Carter debated rolling over and going back to sleep for ten more minutes, but he knew his sister was not lying when she said she would use the squirt bottle on him, so he reluctantly pried himself from his bed, leaving his warm cocoon of blankets and dragging his feet towards the closet.

Frankie's outfit had been laid out on the desk chair, right down to the socks and her hair tie. Carter's girlfriend was very meticulous and neat and orderly; she always picked out her outfit the night before, whereas Carter grabbed the first shirt he saw and fished a pair of jeans out of the dresser.

Best thing about denim jeans: you can wear them with almost anything and still look at least half way decent.

After dressing, Carter tugged a brush through his hair, thankful for his short locks as the tangles easily came out of his brown hair with barely ten strokes of the brush. Carter rested the brush on the desk, and he began to rifle through the homework he had left on the desk the previous night, aligning the papers into a stack and placing them in a folder, which he slipped into his backpack. He didn't notice a single paper get swept off of the desk and float to the floor, sliding into the shadows beneath the desk.

Carter heard the shower turn off behind him, and it wasn't long before the sound of the door opening followed.

"You're not going to shower?" Frankie questioned, and Carter turned to see his sister with a towel wrapped around her body, tucked under her arms to keep it in place while she used a smaller hand towel to dry her hair.

Carter shrugged. "I took one last night," he replied before going into the bathroom to brush his teeth, shutting the door to give Frankie some privacy to get dressed.

When Carter stepped back out of the bathroom, Frankie was dressed and going over her wet hair with the towel one last time.

"You look beautiful. As always," Carter added after a pause as he took in the sight of his beloved girlfriend.

Frankie's shoes were her favorite pair of Sketchers- gray ones that appeared rather drab at first glance but lit up with vibrant purple and electric blue lights every time she took a step- and she wore them with white socks that had a stripe of red at the top, just peeking over the edge of her shoes. Gray leggings hugged her thighs, reaching about half way down her calves, and they were dotted with yellow dots, reminding Carter of stars; she wore a bright pink skirt over the leggings. Her gray shirt had pink frills lining the bottom, and it had a picture of multicolored sparks plastered across the material, almost like fireworks.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she chirped as she tossed the towel over the back of the desk chair to be returned to the bathroom later.

Carter rolled his eyes. "Frankie, I look as boring as a post," he pointed out, gesturing to his flat mop of brown hair, the blue shirt that was two sizes too big on him, and his denim jeans that were bunched up in some areas because they were slightly too long for his short (curse his small stature!) legs.

"I'm not going to lie: fashion isn't your thing," she stated as she crossed the room, placing her hands on his waist and pulling him close to her. "But you are still the most handsome boy in the country… no, in the world… to me."

Carter smiled. "Aw, now you're making me blush," he chuckled before they leaned toward each other, meeting in a kiss that sent a wave of warmth through them, despite the chilly January air that bit into their bones, even when they were inside their house.

"Now, come on," he said after they separated. "Let me do your hair."

Frankie walked over to the middle of their room, sitting on the deep blue rug that laid in the center of their bedroom, and he sat behind her, her brush in one hand and the hair tie in the other.

"What would you like today, madam?" he asked in a horrible French accent, making Frankie giggle. "A French braid? A fishtail braid? Or should we go with your usual- two lovely pigtails?"

Frankie laughed even harder. "Carter, stick with English because that accent was awful, and to answer your question, I think I'll just go with a ponytail today."

"Consider it done!" he exclaimed in the same terrible French accent as he pulled the brush through her brown waves, smoothing out the tangles and knots and allowing the water droplets to cascade down her hair with each stroke, catching in the brush and dripping onto the rug. He easily brushed her hair in the direction he wanted, sweeping it into a neat ponytail and tying it off with a hairband that had streamers dangling from it. He arranged the ribbons that trailed off of the band, allowing them to thread through Frankie's hair in a pretty display of varying shades of pink and chestnut brown blending together.

"Thanks, Carter," she said as she turned around, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips before standing to grab her backpack.

"Kids, breakfast!" the siblings heard their mother call from the kitchen, the barely noticeable sounds of bowls clinking as they were set on the table, followed by the dull thumps of cereal boxes and the milk jug joining the bowls on the tabletop.

"My lady," Carter drawled out in an overly fancy voice as he bowed, holding out his hand, which she accepted with a lighthearted laugh at her brother's antics.

The laugh of his girlfriend, the love of his life, was like a bell, and as Carter straightened to see his sister's grin, he couldn't help but smile, too, and wonder how he had gotten so lucky to have this wonderful person in his life.

Little did he know, Frankie was thinking the same thing about him.

Carter didn't mind school. He wouldn't say he loved it, but he wouldn't say he hated it either. The work was fairly easy, and he did have some great friends. He wished he was in more classes with Frankie, but since they weren't in the same grade, they were lucky that they occasionally had English class together, and they got to meet up during almost every passing period, so he wouldn't complain.

The only thing he truly despised about school were some of the people in it. Namely, Mrs. Abbot.

Sometimes, Carter wondered if Mrs. Abbot had ever been nice. He hadn't had her until this school year, and he'd heard both good and bad things from other students about this particular teacher in the past years. Therefore, it was hard to judge if she was simply mean or if she was only mean to him and Frankie, although he was pretty sure it was the latter.

The worst part of Carter's day was having to sit in Room 193 for exactly 32 minutes between the times of 9:35 am and 10:07 every morning, being glowered at and scolded by a teacher who knew he had done nothing wrong but did it purely out of hatred for him and his sister and the relationship between him and his sister.

Usually, Carter at least had a good five minutes before things turned sour, but this time, he didn't even have thirty seconds.

As soon as the bell let loose a shrill shriek, Mrs. Abbot tapped her desk with a ruler, like those strict 1900-era teachers in the movies.

"All right, class," she announced, "Get out your homework assignments from last night."

Carter leaned over to grab the backpack he had stored under his desk, and he unzipped the bag, retrieving his folder and smoothly opening it to find…

Nothing. His English assignment was missing.

Carter felt a bolt of panic strike him as he rifled through papers and rummaged through his school bag, flipping through every textbook in search of the assignment.

He mentally cursed, grateful that Frankie wasn't able to hear his thoughts, for she would surely admonish him for such language.

It was just one assignment, and Carter hadn't missed one all year, so this would be his first missing assignment, but… this was Mrs. Abbot's class. If there was ever a reason to panic about one assignment, it was the woman stalking towards him, strolling eerily slow through the rows of desks as she collected the paper.

He scrunched his eyes closed in anticipation…

High heels clicked against the floor, growing closer and closer…

The rustling and crinkling of papers…

And finally…

"Carter, where is your homework?" a stiff voice asked him.

Carter forced himself to raise his eyes, and he mumbled, "I forgot it, Mrs. Abbot."

"I see," she replied, far too calmly. "Detention after school."

"But Mrs. Abbot, this is the only assignment he's ever missed-" Leo Moore spoke up from the back of the class.

"Yeah, that is totally unfair!" Hazel McLean agreed from the row behind Carter, two seats over so they were almost diagonal to each other.

"Do you two want detention as well?" Mrs. Abbot snapped.

Carter turned, and he eyed the two kids and the others that looked ready to speak out.

"Guys," he stated, recognizing a defeat when he saw one, "It's okay."

He accepted his detention slip with a sigh and focused his gaze on his desk, not seeing the glances a couple of the students exchanged as a plan began to take root in their minds.

Just because it looked like a defeat didn't mean they couldn't turn it into a rebellion.

Frankie's day was far worse, and like her brother, it started in Mrs. Abbot's class.

Frankie tended to look on the bright side of things, but even she dreaded fifth period with Mrs. Abbot, no matter how much she tried to fight that negativity and force it away. Negative experiences start with negative thoughts, she always said...

But she couldn't deny that negative experiences can also be caused by negative people, and Mrs. Abbot was as negative as they came, at least to Frankie and her brother.

To top it all off, Frankie's bad luck began before class even started.

"Hey, Fatty Frankie," an voice said from behind her, an annoying voice that might have been beautiful and silky if it wasn't utilizing such an irritating drawl.

"Hello, Joanna," Frankie responded, calmly and not unkindly, if a bit flatly.

Kill them with kindness, kill them with kindness, she reminded herself, the mantra she always used whenever she dealt with Joanna or any other bullies.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Joanna sneered, her cronies giggling, but Frankie didn't even bother turning around. If she didn't react, maybe they would lose interest…

That's what teachers and the anti-bullying videos the school showed told her, but it had yet to work.

Joanna shoved Frankie's shoulder. "Hey, I'm talking to you, freak! How's your boyfriend doing? Or is he your brother?"

"He is both," Frankie responded, simply, not turning around as she continued to work on the math homework she had received the previous period, "As I have told you countless times and will continue to tell you until you understand it, and to answer your other question, he is doing fine. Thank you for asking."

She could feel the heat emanating from Joanna's stare as the other girl seethed.

Joanna jabbed her finger into Frankie's shoulder as the bell rang, reverberating throughout the school.

"Listen, just because you're so much of a whore that you'd screw your own brother-"

"What is going on here?"

Frankie knew that Joanna had froze, and she also knew that she had frozen as well under the harsh glare of Mrs. Abbot.

For a moment, Frankie dared to hope that Joanna would finally get the detention or even the suspension she deserved, but that was not what happened. Far from it.

"Francine, detention after school," Mrs. Abbot ordered.

"What?" a quarter of the class demanded.

"But Mrs. Abbot, Joanna called Frankie a whore," Carly pointed out, not even wincing at the bad word (Carly was careful not to do it in front of people, but once Frankie had seen her fail a practice test/study guide while the siblings, Carly, and Emma were studying together, and Carly cussed like a sailor).

"Carlina-"

"It's Car-"

"Carlina, unless you want detention for bad language, I suggest you be quiet."

"Carly, it's okay," Frankie said.

"Like heck it is," Carly muttered, but Frankie reached over to the desk beside her, the desk Carly occupied, resting her hand on top of the other girl's hand.

"Ooh," a boy whistled. "Won't your boyfriend get jealous if you're shacking up with Torrents?"

"Shacking up? Who even says that anymore?" Carly called to the boy, but otherwise, she gave no reaction as she allowed Frankie to calm her down, and the two returned their eyes to the front of the room.

Even as Mrs. Abbot sneered barely veiled insults at Frankie while the other students snickered and gossiped, the two girls kept to themselves and blocked out the horrible comments directed their way. The two friends never unlocked their hands.

Class had ended, and Frankie had sped off to meet Carter while Carly exited the classroom, only to come face to face with two kids.

The boy had tan skin, and he had unruly black curls and brown doe-like eyes. He wore an unzipped green hoodie and a black shirt that said Why Not? In white lettering, and Carly assumed it was a reference to the saying don't ask why. Ask why not. His jeans were deep blue and ripped at the knees, his black sneakers scuffed and caked with dirt, dried mud, and dust. He was fiddling with a pipe cleaner, twisting it with no noticeable pattern or goal, seemingly only doing so to keep his hands moving. His face was marred by frown lines, the face of someone who had seen too much.

The girl, on the other hand, had a twinkle in her eyes, bringing a whole new meaning to 'stars in your eyes,' but she was obviously timid. She avoided eye contact, and she clutched her books close to her chest (Philosophy, Carly read on one of the textbooks in her arms. That was a very advanced class, a high school level course, and this girl could only be a sixth or a seventh grader, which meant she was smart). Her hair was brown and curly, almost poufy, and it was shiny with hair spray. Her eyes were a dark, beautiful shade of brown, like fresh Nutella, and she wore a lavender colored pull-over-sweatshirt and a plaid skirt with light and dark pink squares that reached about three quarters of the way down her thighs.

"I'm Leo Moore," the boy said, "and this is Hazel McLean. You're a friend of Carter and Frankie's, right?"

Carly blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

The boy smiled, some mischief entering the eyes that were too old for his age. "Meet us in the music room after school. Bring your sister."

With that, the two kids vanished into the crowd, leaving a baffled Carly Torrents standing in the hallway as students pushed past her to get to class.

The music room was a nice room, spacious with musical instruments lining the far wall, cubbies on the other wall, and bleachers pushed against the back wall for students to sit on. The teacher's desk was pushed into the far left hand corner.

After school, however, it was not typically packed with students. The teacher had left half an hour ago since seventh period was her free period, but when Carly opened the door (holding it open for her sister, Emma, before stepping into the room herself), she found it filled with students.

Maybe filled was a strong word, but it was still the size of the average class and consisted of one of the strangest groups of people Carly had seen in a while.

Students of all grades and appearances and social statuses (nerds, jocks, outcasts, you name it) sat on the floor of the room, at least twenty of them. Emma and Carly, exchanging a glance of confusion, joined them on the floor, sitting cross legged on the carpet.

"As you all know, Carter and Frankie both got detention today for no good reason," Steven Montague, a kid from Carly and Frankie's English class, began.

"And we have a plan to help them out," Catherine Doorelis continued.

"If they get detention, we all get detention," Zoey Roberts finished, resolutely.

Carly smiled as she leaned forward in interest. "I'm listening…"