Checkmate: Pick your Side

'Tap tap tap'.

"And if you'll see on page seventy six of your textbook, Lithuania has about a ninety-nine point seven percent literacy rate."

'Tap tap tap'.

"This beautiful country is a part of Europe, and is one of the three modern Baltic States. A ways back, Finland was also part of this group."

'Tap tap tap'.

"It rests under Latvia and Estonia, where – Mr. Olsen, would you mind setting your pencil down?"

Kirby sighed and rested his pencil next to his untouched piece of paper, which was supposed to be filled with notes. Mr. Matthews nodded in approval before continuing his teaching.

The chocolate-eyed teen supported his head with his hand, trying his best not to let out a huge yawn. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He was too worried. The ordeal a few days ago had been eating away at him, making him wonder if someone really did capture him and Trent in action. If they had, they could make the jock do whatever they bloody well pleased. Because Kirby sure as hell wasn't letting his fellow peers know about his closeted sexuality, or his rather violent partner.

The boy felt his eyelids drooping, the classroom slowly fading into black, but he snapped his eyes open when Mr. Matthews began another 'inspiring', and very loud, lecture regarding how he had visited the middle of Europe, and how much the experience had affected his life. That was just sad.

One of the worst parts of the situation was what was interrupted. Kirby finally let himself open up enough to allow Trent to touch him, and in one moment, it was ruined. And, to be honest, the jock would really have rather continued the human contact, despite his constant paranoia.

Speaking of paranoia, in the halls, Kirby had heard small talk about the school's resident sociopath. Kids kept saying how Gary caused a fight in the basement of the building. Apparently, the unknowing victim was Jimmy Hopkins, that new student that had been there for about three or four weeks.

Though, the strange thing was, Trent seemed to darken whenever either of the two were mentioned; the brown-haired teen didn't really know exactly what about the students upset the bully, but he had a theory. Before Gary got out of hand, and before Hopkins entered the picture, Trent had been one of the top dogs, up there with Russell, Johnny, and Ted.

Students feared him, obeyed him, and didn't fight back. Even the jocks were weary of him, though much stronger and higher up on the social ladder. Kirby knew that he was attracted to power; he used to have a crush on Gord Vendome, believe it or not. Even if at the current moment, the thought of the blue-blooded Prep made him want to vomit. But as soon as Trent got up close and personal with the small football player, he knew he had nabbed a keeper. And ever since, the taller blonde had did his best to shield Kirby from taunts and both physical and emotional violence, and the jock was greatly appreciative of that fact.

When Hopkins arrived, he quickly climbed up the ranks to stand as Bullworth's 'peace-keepr'. This must have angered Trent, because after all the chaos, the brawls, the cliques attacking each other, he was left as just another one of the rather weak bullies. Of course, Kirby still cared for him immensely, but he had to admit, the blonde's regular bad moods were having an effect on him.

And now look what happened. The pair could have been caught red-handed (or rather, red-faced), and they could be facing total public humiliation at any moment. Just wonderful. Kirby sighed lightly and let his mocha eyes scan the classroom. Trent wasn't in this class with him, which was a tad depressing. Most of his days were usually spent passing notes to and from the blonde, albeit most of them were filled with quite suggestive words that made Kirby wish he had worn looser pants, but still.

Suddenly, the jock felt eyes on him. It was an odd feeling, almost like he knew someone was watching him. It was greatly disturbing. Slowly, he mentally checked all of the desks around him. Parker, no, he was watching the teacher. Mandy, also no, she was texting under the table. Algie...he didn't really bother to check; he knew he would be writing down notes covered in nasal fluids. Derby, no, he was...

Kirby shot his eyes at the platinum haired teen next to him, who appeared to be smirking to himself at a compact in his hand. Well, that wasn't unexpected. But as soon as Kirby set his gaze back to his unused textbook, the feeling overcame him again. The jock waited for a moment before jerking his vision to Derby once more. He saw clear blue eyes flutter away from him in a split second before returning to the small compact. Kirby picked up his pencil and held onto it tightly.

The Prep was acting rather strange, usually, Derby wasn't focused on anything or anyone but himself. If that was true, then why the hell did the brown-haired jock see the blonde continue to flicker his gaze from student to student, as if noting their presence in his head? Weird, but Kirby tried to ignore the sideways glances Derby threw at him every few minutes.

Though, the small boy did remember some of the gossip going around the school that involved the Preppies. Whispers had told him that Derby had had a very aggressive dispute with his friend and bodyguard, Bif Taylor. Apparently, the two were fighting over which one of them should become heir to the Harrington House after they graduated (well, if they ever managed to graduate). Even though Derby obviously was next in line, Bif believed that he should at least own one wing of the building.

Of course, the charming blonde wasn't going to share anything with anyone. Kirby didn't have the whole story, but he predicted that violence must have ensued after the heated argument. Looking to Derby, who was staring blankly in front of him with a thoughtful expression, Kirby noticed for the first time a few bruises running along his jawline and up onto his lower right cheek. They were a faded, black-blue color that made him wonder exactly how far the fighting had gone before it was stopped.

This made Kirby thankful for Trent; he was basically some kind of force-field that bounced off other bullies and students who attempted to bother him. But of course, the football player didn't think of his partner as just a shield. He cared for him immensely, and tried to do his best to please the bully whenever he made a request. Even if Trent wanted something that had to be brought all the way back from the other side of town.

Kirby blinked when the bruises he was looking at shifted. It took the jock a few seconds to realize that Derby had turned to look back at Mr. Matthews, the teacher who was then practically jumping in excitement as he told the rest of the class how he took a thrilling tour on a canal in a remote part of Europe.

Kirby, no longer feeling watched, relaxed his tensed shoulders and gave a low sigh. A positive thought entered his mind, which gave him a shining ray of hope that peeked though dark clouds that currently inhabited his brain.

That day after classes was football practice. Thought the team wasn't currently playing anyone, practice was still required to keep the members fit, active, and eager to win any challenge thrown their way. The feeling Kirby got when exercising was, to say the least, extremely empowering. It made Kirby glad to know that he was the fastest player; it was rare for the jock to be happy about his height, because most of the time, he was left out of things that the others were doing since he was so much smaller than them. But his stature allowed him to duck oncoming opponents, and sprint swiftly without rest. This, the brown-haired boy believed, made him a valuable asset.

"...And when the boat started across the vast span of the clear blue water, I got to see the beautiful expanse of the town! Gorgeous homes sitting beside the sea-"

'Brrriiiinnggg'

Mr. Matthews lowered his arms, which had previously been in the air, waving around as the man assisted his enthusiastic story with movement. As soon as the bell rung, students practically shot out of their seats, eager to get away from the uninteresting subject. Kirby, along with some of the other smaller teens, was shoved to the back and had to wait until most of the class had piled out of the door to leave the room.

Re-adjusting the school books under his arm, the boy hesitantly stepped out into the halls, his eyes darting from left to right. Okay, he had to admit, he was being a little paranoid. But really, if a person had caught him and Trent on film, he had a reason to be weary of the other students. It could have been anyone, which meant that any one of the cliques could be scheming behind his back. Kirby didn't even completely trust the rest of the jocks; as much as the teen loved his teammates, they weren't exactly the most affectionate people, and they would probably jump at the chance to humiliate someone, even if it was one of their own.

The boy headed towards the entrance to the school, intending to go to the boy's dorms and work on one of the few assignments he didn't hate with every fiber of his being. A literature paper; narrative, he believed. Yeah, Mr. Galloway was a hopeless old drunk who desperately needed to get laid, but he wasn't that bad when he was sober. Even if it only lasted an hour or so.

Luckily, the man had been in his right mind when he assigned the paper to the class.

'Write to your heart's content! Tell a story with your words, craft something from the depths of your imagination!'

Well, that's what Mr. Galloway had told them to do, anyway. Thinking about it, Kirby then questioned if the man really was sober. The jock shook his head and continued on his way, beginning to open one of the double doors.

"Wait right there, Mister Olsen."

Kirby blinked and took his hand off the door, turning around to see who had addressed him. Thankfully, most of the students had already left the halls, heading for after school activities like cheer-leading, book club, and football practice.

The brunette made a questioning expression as he saw Mr. Hattrick walking towards him. But he raised his eyebrow when he saw a small student accompanying the teacher. Kirby could have sworn he'd seen him somewhere before, but he didn't pay much attention to people outside of sports or class.

"Uh, yeah?" The teen replied to the man, taking a few steps forward to stand properly in front of the pair. The boy next to Mr. Hattrick shifted from foot to foot, as if nervous about the encounter.

"Don't you 'uh, yeah' me, young man. You know you were scheduled to come to my room during afternoon classes to get extra help with math," The man said in a strict tone. Kirby's shoulders tensed as he remembered the assigned time. He completely forgot; all that was on his mind lately was Trent and the incident at the docks, there was no room for curriculum.

"I-I, uhm...sorry...?" The jock's apology came out as more of a question, which made Mr. Hattrick grumble and rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. Kirby gave him a cracked smile, hoping he would be let off the hook.

"Sorry doesn't get your grades up, unfortunately. Now listen here, since you're so involved in sports, I've had a word with Coach Burton,"

Kirby slowly shook his head, bracing for impact.

"...and he and I have decided that until you're making a steady ninety-five in all of your academics, you will not be allowed access to the football field, gym, or locker rooms, except for physical education."

The brunette made a small, squeaking sound, the textbook he was holding dropping to the floor. The jock stood there, mouth open, frozen in shock. No sports whatsoever...? Surely, he was joking!

"Y-you c..can't do that!"

Kirby managed to choke out, his hands clenching into fists. The boy next to Mr. Hattrick slightly backed away from the situation, a worried expression on his face.

"Unfortunately, I can. You are banned from any extra-curricular activities, which includes football. Instead of practice after school, you'll be expected to find your study partner and work in the library for two hours," Mr. Hattrick stated firmly, folding his arms across his chest and awaiting a response from the panic-stricken teen before him.

Kirby swallowed and tried hard not to outright strangle the math instructor. How dare he. That bastard knew that he loved sports, and he used it against him! That had to be breaking the law somehow, right? Right? Suddenly, part of what the teacher had said started turning the broken gears in his head.

"S..study partner...?" Kirby asked, his voice still high from the shock of what the teacher had told him. Part of him was still trying to catch up with what was going on, his mind working hard to process the information.

Mr. Hattrick nodded.

"Yes, study partner. As you are obviously not capable of completing any work on your own without heavy guidance, I'll be letting you have help."

The brunette's head was filled with profanities that he wished to yell at the man, his mouth just seconds away from opening and unleashing a merciless assault of curses, threats, and disses. But somehow, Kirby managed to contain his almost unbearable rage, his hands clenching and opening, his teeth grounding against each other. Unable to form coherent words, the jock waited until Mr. Hattrick spoke again.

"There aren't many successful students in this school, but I've managed to find you someone who's willing to help you pass – and excel – in your classes," The man said. Mr. Hattrick turned left and right, appearing to be looking for someone. When his gaze rested on the small boy that had stepped away from the ordeal, he gestured for the him to join them. Kirby saw the student mutter something under his breath before coming closer.

Oh. The brunette's head shakily pushed out a thought, as much as he didn't want it to. No, that kid, he wasn't...was he?

"This is Peter Kowalski. He'll be assisting you with your studies. You're lucky at least some of your peers don't completely hate you," Mr. Hattrick said, giving the short teen a push so that he stood directly in front of Kirby. The jock's eye twitched as he fully realized the absurdity of the situation. Hah...no way...he wasn't letting some stupid little kid sit with him for two hours, looking blankly at algebraic equations. He refused.

"N-no! I'm not working with this...this...thing! Isn't there anyone else?" Kirby empowered his exclamation by gesturing to the pink-clad boy in front of him, who seemed to wilt at his insult. Okay, so maybe calling him a 'thing' was a bit much, but really, Kirby couldn't see himself doing anything with the boy except maybe giving him a massive wedgie.

Mr. Hattrick frowned.

"I'm sorry to say, but no. You will work with Peter, otherwise you'll fail your grade and will never be admitted to play any sort of sport here again. It's sink or swim, mister Olsen," The man's words were spoken with spite, sending chills down the brunette's spine. Kirby cast another look at Peter, who gave him a weak smile. The action made the jock groan in aggravation. This problem wasn't going to resolve itself, was it? Not this time.

"Okay, fine! Fine! Can I please just go now?" Kirby said, his voice growing as he reached down and picked up his fallen textbook. All the teen wanted to do was go to his room and curl up in bed and ignore the world around him. Because apparently, said world was turning its back to him. Quickly, the jock reopened the double door, and was about to speed away, but Mr. Hattrick cut into his escape.

"Did you not listen to anything I said? After classes, you are to study in the library. Starting now."

The teacher stood there, obviously waiting for Kirby to agree. The brunette gave a feral growl, and, in one movement, took a step behind him and grabbed Peter's arm, yanking him towards him and the open door.

"Okay, that's what I'm doing! Happy now?" Kirby snarled, giving Mr. Hattrick a final glare before letting the door close the space between them. Muttering curses, the jock started speed-walking towards the boy's dorms, completely forgetting the small boy who was trailing behind him. Kirby halted when a light voice spoke to him in a nervous tone.

"Uh, aren't we supposed to go to the library?"

The question made the chocolate-eyed teen tense his shoulders in frustration. Turning to Peter, Kirby replied in a hostile voice,

"Forget it. I'm not working with you, got it? I'm not letting some dwarf sit by me and correct everything I say. So back off."

Peter flinched at the harsh words. The smaller teen was intimidated by his classmate's deadly answer. Great, he thought. Now he was not only losing Gary and Jimmy as friends, but he was messing with one of the jocks, who could probably kill him with a single punch. Petey's posture slumped in disappointment. He was really alone, wasn't he? Not one soul in Bullworth wanted to have anything to do with him, save for Gary, who only associated with the shorter-than-average teen because he was an easy target to pick on.

Though Kirby had just snapped at Petey for not leaving him alone, the jock made no movement to continue on his way, either. He was too confused.

The thoughts in the brunette's head jumbled together in one incoherent mess. No more football. He wouldn't be able to play. Banned from the field and the track, no socializing with most of his teammates. Having to study, wasting perfectly good time doing work that he had no interest in. Doing work with a wimpy kid in a pink shirt.

And then he remembered his main problem. He still didn't know who had caught him and Trent under the dock a few days back. And now that he wasn't able to play football or do anything related to sports, it made it even more likely that the jocks he once trusted with his life would release personal information about him.

Everything and everyone was against him, and he could do little to nothing about it.

"D-do you need help with something...?"

Kirby slowly returned to look at Peter with a pained expression. He didn't care anymore. If the whole town was ignoring his troubles, then there was no point in doing anything about it. Even the thought of embracing Trent and letting the blonde whisper sweet nothings in his ear didn't seem worth it. It was as if a cloud of depression was floating above his head, sucking the life out of him and taking away his rage almost as soon as it had arrived.

"No. Just go back to your stupid friends and let me be," Kirby replied, his voice trying hard to sound threatening, but failing miserably. Still, the jock didn't move a muscle, his eyes staring at something distant.

Peter sighed and walked closer to the taller teen, who reacted by taking a few steps back. Kirby might have been lost in a sea of emotions, but that didn't mean he would allow such a dork to make any kind of contact with him. The cliques still existed, even if Kirby couldn't correctly participate in his.

"I...don't have any friends. Not like you," Peter responded quietly, shifting the journals and notebooks in his arms so that they wouldn't fall. The teen's fingers dug deep into the covers of his textbooks, his eyes daring to stare up at the older boy in front of him.

Kirby blinked, turning his body fully so that he could properly address the other male. What the hell was this kid talking about? As hard as the jock tried, he couldn't think of any of the football players as his 'friends'. Sure, they sat at the same lunch table, and yeah, they played on the same team, but none of them related to Kirby, or talked with him or asked him how he was doing.

"What the hell do you mean? They don't get me. They don't know shit," Kirby said, his gaze occasionally scanning the area to make sure no students could see him talking to...such a nerd. If people found out he was socializing with the least popular boy in school, the brunette might as well have stolen all of Mr. Galloway's alcohol and drank himself to death. It would be social suicide.

"Well...maybe you should find someone that does get you," Peter replied, his voice slowly but surely rising to a normal tone. If the pink-clad boy was good at anything, it was giving advice. He had directed Jimmy as to how to gain respect from all of the cliques, he assisted Gary by giving him information on what was going on inside the groups, he even bothered to aid some students with their life issues. And Kirby, he decided, was just another guy who he wanted help. If he didn't kill him first.

Kirby blinked in surprise. As much as he hated to admit it, the wimp was right. He just wanted to be understood, that was all. Was that really too much to ask?

Taking the teen's silence as consent to keep talking, Peter continued.

"Finding someone to relate to you can be tough...but if there's one thing you need, it's someone who listens to you...and who doesn't care about how popular you are, or which clique you're in...You just have to have a person that knows what you're going through..."

The small boy trailed off, looking to Kirby for a response. When he got none, he started walking towards the boy's dorms, obviously not believing that the other male would go with him to the library.

A few seconds after Peter's departure, Kirby watched his breath fog through the air, the cold temperature giving him chills. Shifting his eyes to watch Peter's retreating figure, the jock bit his lip, trying desperately to fend off a persisting thought.

Taking a deep breath, Kirby pressed his textbook against his chest and sprinted to meet up with Peter, who was opening the door. The brunette grabbed the back of the younger boy's shirt collar, preventing him from going further.

"What the-"

"Listen, just listen, okay?"

Kirby said, releasing his grip when Peter turned to give him a questioning look. The jock darted his eyes, checking to see if anyone was looking. When he was assured they were alone, he spoke.

"Kid, look. I-I'll study with you. But...but you've got to help me, understand? Got it?" Kirby asked, leaning in closer so that his voice couldn't be heard. Peter tensed as he felt the other boy's breath against the side of his cheek.

Almost without thinking, the smaller teen replied simply,

"Okay. I will, don't worry."

Kirby pulled away from Peter, not hearing the nearly inaudible whimper of objection that came from the other boy. Starting away from the dorms, Kirby spoke in parting words,

"Tell anyone about this and I'll make you eat your poundcake, bitch."

As soon as the double doors were shut again, the brunette began running to the entrance gates, where most of the bullies usually hung out. He needed to find Trent; he needed human contact. He needed the blonde's arms wrapped around him to shield him from the cold.

And, most importantly...

he needed someone to listen.

A/N:

Heh. That's right. I brought Petey into this, just because I can. But I assure you, there's not going to be romance between Kirby or said femme-boy. Because everyone knows that Petey belongs with Gary. Obviously.

Reviews will be stuck to the fridge, and flames will be used to make toasted marshmallows.

Thanks for reading!