Here is the lovely introduction of the character Derrick. You're welcome.
…
Rule #2: NEVER use your lockers, unless you enjoy bad news.
Across the large pedestals that stood against the brick walls of Westchester's infamous Briarwood Academy (unfortunately the only school building the small town could afford), a small petite brunette was seen sprinting against the marble steps of the well-known building and girls seen already pampering themselves for the Briarwood Gods.
Massie scoffed as she ran past them and slightly chuckled at their delusional brains. She recalled when she was one of them, trying to impress Cam Fisher and his sidekicks by making her hair glossier, her lips fuller, and even attempted to sway her hips in every direction. She sighed in pity of their embarrassment, she didn't want to sound cocky, but she knew that the Briarwood Gods had only eyes for her and Alicia – mostly her unfortunately.
The brunette scrambled towards her locker as she grabbed her things for her next class, creative writing. She never really enjoyed the class itself, in fact she dreaded it, considering the people in it – Josh Hotz and Chris Plovert - but her favorite teacher Mr. Davidson taught it. She didn't know why she liked him so much, probably because he was the only teacher that hadn't come up to her and ask her about "the break-up" and hand her a box of tissues. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the pity from the teachers, but she hated receiving the constant bickering. She broke up with Cam Fisher, end of story.
The amber-eyed girl dashed towards her creative writing class after closing her locker shut; "Fuck," she screeched, she was already four minutes late. She entered the small classroom and smiled apologetically at Mr. Davidson before taking her seat. She knew that he wouldn't count her tardy, mostly because she was his favorite student and he was never one to question her, like she had mentioned before.
"Okay class, welcome to the fourth six weeks of this school. Now, I know I've been a little lenient for a while, but today… today is the day where we learn about the wondrous works of Mark Twain. Yes, you've guessed it 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn'. I know you are all excited." Many groans arose from the classroom as Mr. Davidson smirked; he loved depressing students.
"I thought this was a class for writing." Scoffed a male figure. Massie, Alicia, and the rest of the class turned towards the unfamiliar voice, it was odd for someone to ever sass a teacher, but then she realized that she had never seen this person before and from the way he looked she would have definitely noticed him, especially since they were already into the second semester of the school year.
"Why yes we are." Mr. Davidson started, "However, according to my guidelines and teaching this class for seven almost eight years if I may add, it requires us to read three classic novels." He explained with another smirk, it seemed as if his only facial expression were smirks nowadays.
"I apologize, I guess I can't question your authority," the man spoke with a bit of sarcasm, he raised his eyebrows as he leaned back further into his seat. Mr. Davidson smiled; it was obvious he liked the guy already.
"Don't apologize, I'm sorry that I didn't notice a new student walk into our classroom Mister…" Mr. Davidson said as he attempted to pretend to be grabbing the attendance sheet. He probably never even knew a new student was coming.
"Harrington," the man said as he grinned, "I just transferred here from OCD."
Massie and Alicia's jaw slightly dropped, as well as the whole class. She had not pegged him for an "OCD Bulldog." OCD was the top school in New York, however it was also an all boys' school that consisted of snobby rich kids that drank electrolyte-enhanced water, whatever the hell that meant. Sure his Rolex watch that hung around his wrist meant he acquired a decent amount of money, but his golden locks, over-sized button-down, and ash colored pants spoke otherwise.
"Ah… here it is. Harrington, Derrick." Mr. Davidson stated as he checked off the name from his clipboard. "And wow… OCD. What are you doing here in a place like Westchester?" He questioned.
"What can I say, I'm not a Finé water type of guy." Derrick shrugged as he started twirling his pencil around his fingers. Massie slightly chuckled that they were thinking of the same thing and Derrick turned giving her a genuine smile. She smiled back and hid her face in embarrassment. She felt like she was in second grade again.
"Well… not doubting you there, I'm more of an Ozarka guy myself." Mr. Davidson chuckled to himself. Alicia turned towards Massie, giving her a puzzled look. "Why would the new guy move here in the middle of a semester?" Alicia whispered, however, her voice must have been too loud as Derrick shifted in his seat.
"Actually, I prefer Derrick," the boy remarked. "Not 'new guy.' Thanks."
"I thought your name was Harrington," Alicia said, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "Harrington Derrick."
"No, It's Derrick. I'm pretty sure I'm well aware of what my name is," he said.
"Derrick Harringtonderrick. Wow" Alicia shook her head and her long, raven hair swirled around her shoulders. "What a mouthful."
"No. It's Derrick Harrington, not Harringtonderrick," he corrected her, a little more annoyed now. Mr. Davidson loudly cleared his throat.
"Young man, don't let Ms. Alicia Rivera give you a hard time about your name." So, Mr. Davidson wasn't exactly fond of Alicia. Massie knew from the disapproving looks he had given her sometimes when they were together, but she knew that no one could ever understand the bond that her and Alicia shared. They may have been complete opposites, but that's what made their friendship pure.
Derrick glanced at Alicia before grinning. "I'm so sorry. 'I'll leash a river uh'?" he said. "Interesting."
Alicia frowned at him. She was used to teasing other people, not being made fun of herself – she'd usually do that before giving anyone else a chance. "No, Rivera. Look, never mind, I know better people to argue with," she said, curling her hair around her ear, the way she did whenever she was nervous.
Mr. Davidson clapped his hands together. "That's enough. Today is the first Monday of the month, and you know what that means."
"Buy one pizza, get the second one free?" Derrick muttered under his breath. Massie slightly giggled, glad to know he had actually had a sense of humor unlike most of the guys at their school. He'd need it if he wanted to survive in this boring town.
"Not quite," Alicia said. "Pop quiz. He calls it pop, but we have them the first and third Mondays of every month. Regularly scheduled quiz would be a more suited name for it." She leaned over toward him. "But don't worry. You did know we had to read the background information about Huckleberry Finn before class, right?" she smirked.
Massie smiled as Derrick gave Alicia a confused look. "I didn't know, actually," Derrick exclaimed as a he rummaged through his army green bag looking for something to write with. Alicia tried to hand him a pencil, but Derrick quickly shook his head.
"No, I only work in pen," he said.
"Don't you worry about mistakes?" Alicia asked before Mr. Davidson started clapping his hands together again.
"I hear talking. I should hear writing." Massie reached into her backpack and fished out an extra pen.
"Thanks. Is she always this judgmental?" Derrick asked Massie, grabbing the ballpoint pen from her delicate fingers and pointing his eyes towards Alicia. Massie looked at him, before pointing at herself, was he talking to her?
"Yes, you. The only person in this room that understands my humor." Derrick slightly grinned. Massie smiled back, but didn't answer. She wasn't really much of a talker. She never was even when she was dating Cam Fisher.
"Ms. Block," Mr. Davidson said, handing a yellow note towards her direction. She grabbed it and unraveled the typed note. Massie, Don't worry this is not an emergency. But please report to my office immediately. Thank you. - Mr. Stooder.
Mr. Stooder was the school guidance counselor/wrestling coach at Briarwood. Massie quickly stuffed her book into her bag and started walking towards the door. Why did she have to be in his office "immediately" if it wasn't an emergency? She knew she hadn't done anything wrong the past few weeks, what was going on? Massie glanced at Alicia and whispered the word "Stooder" before throwing the crumpled piece of paper on to Alicia's desk so she would know what was up. Whatever Stooder wanted, it couldn't be good. He didn't exactly summon a person for praise or good news.
"Hurry back. The quiz anxiously awaits your return. And you can't afford to miss much, Ms. Block," Mr. Davidson said sarcastically as he handed Massie a hall pass. She knew he was being sarcastic, she had a 98 in his class and a small quiz grade wouldn't affect her much.
.&.
"How've you been, Massie?" Mr. Stooder asked when Massie walked into his office. He closed the door behind her before motioning towards the leather seat for her to sit down in.
"Good," Massie said quietly. Mr. Stooder quickly sat down in his desk chair. He was about as tall as he was standing up, because he had the shortest legs she had ever seen on a man – on anyone, really. He was still probably the fittest guidance counselor in the state though. Being the wrestling coach and all. He almost always wore sweatpants and various polyester fitness clothes. She lived in fear of ever seeing him in his stretchy nylon-wrestling getup. She imagined it wasn't particularly a pleasant sight. Once, her and Alicia were leaving the gym when he was walking in and they quickly sprinted out the door, laughing and shielding their eyes. They had only seen the top half of his wrestling getup, but that was all they would want to see for at least a millennium. She remembered that she had only seen Stooder in a dress suit – black tie attire – once. He looked apelike, with giant broad shoulders, long arms, and short legs. That made him a good wrestler, she guessed, but also a funny-looking man.
"Are you sure? You haven't responded to any of my notes recently." He exclaimed.
"Notes?" She asked. What was he talking about? She glanced at the bookcase behind him where a small black radio was seen playing loud classical music. Mr. Stooder reached over to turn down the volume. He blared music like that at wrestling practice, to motivate people or to motive himself she guessed. It was handy because when her and Alicia heard the music, they knew to stay away from the gym. Stooder turned back to Massie with a curious smile. Why was he smiling at her like that?
"I've been leaving notes inside your locker for the past two weeks, requesting you drop by my office for a meeting," he said. "So why haven't you come by?" Massie sighed in relief, she was glad he wasn't leaving notes in her locking for a different reason. She stared at the framed diplomas on the wall behind him, certifying his psychology degrees. One of the frames hanging crooked.
"Actually, I didn't know you wanted to see me, because I don't use my locker," she said; and as soon as she did, she regretted it. He was probably now going to play twenty questions on her on why she didn't use her locker. "Oh?" He eyed her large beige bag on the linoleum floor beside her chair.
"You don't use your school locker? Why is that?" As far as she could tell, from her previous visits last year, "Why is that?" and "Why?" and "Why not?" formed the basis of his deep and probing psychological approach.
"Massie. Your locker," Stooder said again. "You said you don't use it? Why?"
"I just don't," she said.
"Yes, I realize that. But why not?" He urged again.
"I just – I don't. Would you stop asking that? I mean, why? Why anything? Does there have to a reason for everything?" Massie quickly retorted.
"No, there doesn't have to be I guess," Stooder said, trying to make things more calm. "But there usually is."
"I don't know about that," Massie stated. Things happening without reasons were becoming a theme lately. The reason she wasn't using her locker was completely irrational, which is why she wouldn't tell Stooder that it was actually one of her "rules." She had decided that if she didn't go back to using her locker, maybe everything would stay okay for a while. She had ways of doing things now that she couldn't change. Things were set now. They weren't perfect, they weren't even good, but they were set. That included not using her locker, ever.
"Do you have a problem with your locker?" Stooder asked. "Have you had problems with break-ins? Do you need a new locker assignment or lock? Because we can definitely go down to maintenance together and-"
"No, it's not that. It works… fine," she explained. Though she wouldn't really know, would she? She didn't really know why, but even though she wasn't using it now, she didn't want it taken away, or reassigned. "Look, maybe someday that horrible smell from the chemistry lab in the hallway across from it will seem like a good thing," she tried suggesting jokingly.
Stooder stared at her, as if she weren't supposed to be making jokes. Where was the Derrick Harrington kid when you needed him? Stooder's staring just only caused her to babble more.
"The thing is that I'd really just rather carry my stuff with me most of the time," she went on. "But once in a while. I'll use my locker, so. It's fine."
"Oh, well, okay. I suppose." He cleared his throat. "Listen, Massie. Are you all right?" he asked. "How are things?"
"Fine," she said, because that's what everyone always wanted to hear. Stooder nodded.
"Well. It's been about six months into the school year, and the reason I've been anxious to talk to you is because I wanted to know how you're coping. Six months. Had it been that long? Sometimes it felt like it had only been a week ago, some days it felt like years. The way Stooder had said it though, made her feel terrible, as if she'd missed someone's birthday, or an important anniversary. Or maybe she was just guilty because he was keeping tack of the months and she wasn't. But she knew his concern wasn't sincere. He was only asking her how she was because he probably had a little prompt in his computer that flagged the date, and her name popped up with words: SIX MONTHS: CHECK ON MASSIE BLOCK. This was his job. They paid him to keep track of students. They paid him to use words like "coping."
"This is the standard check, right?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, next come the questions about whether I'm sleeping well at night and whether I'm eating right and if I am, why is that, and if I'm not, then why not?"
"Massie, relax. It's nothing like that," Stooder stated. He tapped the ends of his fingers together. "I'm just concerned. If there's anything you want to talk about… I'm here."
"Thanks." She bluntly stated. If she wanted to talk, which she didn't, she knew the last person she'd ever choose was Mr. Stooder. He had to know that, didn't he? The fact he had to summon her to his office should give him a clue.
"So. Are you staying involved – are you doing any new extracurricular activities? Joining any teams? I know last year was a bad year for you, Massie." She stared at him intently. She knew she had to give him a good answer so he'd decide if she was all right and would finally leave her alone. Why don't teachers understand that it's HER business, not theirs. She had to tell him what he wanted to hear, which was that she'd responded to his urging and "gotten involved."
"Yes, actually, I am." She said. "I'm in that journalism class, with Mr. Bugle?"
"That's right, I saw your name under a picture on the school newspaper. Well, that must be fun." Stooder smiled at her.
"Sort of," she said. "I mean, yes. It is fun." There was a long, awkward pause. She could either wait for him to comment on her mental condition some more, or she could tell him she wanted to be the first girl on the wrestling team, or she could try to escape. "Well, I have to get back to class okay? We have quizzes in creative writing every other Monday and today's unfortunately one of those Mondays, so…"
"Of course. You're excused." Stooder handed her another hall pass.
"But keep in touch, Massie, all right?"
"Yes. Definitely. I'll definitely keep in touch," she said. As much as she usually did, which wasn't promising a thing.
.&.
When she got back to class, quiz time was over and Alicia was standing at the blackboard, chalk in hand, drawing how she had imaged Huckleberry Finn's setting to look like. Massie flashed her a smile and went to her seat. Mr. Davidson always made Alicia do this kind of stuff, probably to chuckle at her constant mad bickering. He always seemed to issue dares towards her, knowing that she'd never back down. It was a good strategy, since Alicia loved dares. Massie nearly hit Derrick with her bag as she swung it off her shoulder and placed in on the floor.
"Caution, as overhead items may have shifted during the flight," he chuckled, ducking his head. Massie looked over at him in embarrassment.
"Sorry."
"That's okay. Please hit me. Knock me on the head and take me out of my misery from this book. I'm begging you," he whispered. Alicia came back from the board just in time to hear him and she stared at the two of them, wondering what was going, what were they talking about?
"You're begging her already?" she asked. "You have to work up to that. That's one of her rules."
"Rules?" Derrick repeated.
"Yeah. Don't worry – you'll find out," Alicia scoffed sarcastically. Massie blushed in embarrassment. She wanted to tell him that it was a ridiculous thing that Alicia had come up with and that she didn't have a set of rules. But they were real and it was true that she followed each and every one of them, well at least attempted to. No one knew about the rules except Alicia, and last year, Cam Fisher. But that was when her rules were foolish, before anything bad had happened, before anything bad had happened to her.
….
Next chapter, will feature both Cam and Derrick, so yay! Reviews and people that alert make me write faster. Thank you to everyone that reviewed/alerted/favorited. 12 reviews? Wow, thank you. You all are seriously the best. I tried adding humor, but I suck so sorry. xx - Sami
