A/N: Yeah, it's really me updating, this is not a mirage. (I hope this chapter isn't as bad as I think it is. I dunno, I've been in a bad mood for weeks, so that may have bled through.) And in the time I wasn't updating, I heard the show finally got axed? Can't say that I'm at all surprised. (Warning, this is an "R" rated chapter for language and some themes.)

Turning Tables

Sicken Little

"Fag."

"Cocksucker."

"Apparently 'abomination' runs is in the genes. All of his brothers are queer and his cousin's a rapist! I wouldn't want him as my little brother's Boy Scout Leader."

"That's like saying straight men can't be teachers because they'll have sex with every female student they see and that's ridiculous. Just because someone is gay doesn't mean he is attracted to every male he lays eyes on." Griffin looked the basketball player up and down. "I'm certainly not attracted to you."

The jock grabbed Griffin by the shoulders and shoved him against the lockers. "Shut the fuck up! You have no right to talk to me that way!"

"You have no right to talk to him that way!"

"Grace, are you seriously defending this scum–" he flicked Griffin in the chest "–after what his cousin–"

"Step away from him, Charlie." Grace calmly retrieved her cell phone from her purse and pointed it at him. "Leave him alone or I'll get someone who won't be as polite as myself."

Charlie scowled at Grace. He looked to his two teammates who seemed to shrug with their eyes. Finally he let his shoulders fall and motioned to the two other boys to leave. "You're making a mistake, Grace."

Grace grit her teeth as she watched the three basketball jocks disappear around the corner. She was pretty sure she'd seen Charlie mouth something to Griffin before he'd left, but she couldn't prove it. "Are you okay?"

Griffin rubbed the shoulder that had hit the lockers when Charlie had pushed him. "Fine." He glanced down the hallway again. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did. Come on, we need to go tell someone–"

"No."

Grace stared at him like she'd just walked into a brick wall. "Griffin, they won't stop-"

"They've been harassing me all year, it's nothing new."

"So why don't you tell someone?"

"I used to and it never made any difference."

"At your middle school?"

"Yeah."

"Well this is high school," Grace argued. "What about Mr. Molina? You can talk to him!"

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you?" Griffin shot back. "You know, for someone who ran away instead of going to the police?"

Grace winced. "That's low."

"But I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No. But because of my stupidity then, I know it was a mistake not to go to the authorities in the first place."

Griffin nodded and rubbed his shoulder again. "Look, I'm sorry about what Gr – he – did to you. If I'd known I –" He looked down at his shoes. "I know how shallow that sounds and how much of a difference it doesn't make. But none of that has anything to do with those guys and me. It's my business, not yours, Grace. So please, just – just leave it."

Grace could only watch as he walked away. She felt like a pair of beater bars had been turned on inside her stomach. Clutching her abdomen, she raced to the bathroom and only managed to get to the garbage bin meant for the used paper towels. The contents of her breakfast – two vanilla yogurts and a granola bar – spattered across the walls of the bin and the fluff of partially wet brown paper towels. She thought it looked a bit like chunky cake batter and that thought only made her sick all over again.

When there was nothing else left for her stomach to throw out, Grace braced herself against the edge of the trashcan and realized there were a few girls standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at her as if she were some kind of train wreck to rubberneck. She was ready to say just what she thought of that when Mrs. Doonan pushed through the throng.

"What is everyone doing here? This is a safety hazard. Either use the bathroom or le-" She stopped abruptly when she laid eyes on Grace. She lifted her had slightly to her mouth, attempting to covertly cover her nose. "Everyone, leave. This bathroom is closed, you can use the one on the next floor if you need to." She hurriedly shooed everyone away until it was just her and Grace left.

Grace had never had Mrs. Doonan and therefore didn't know her personally, but she recognized her as Ben and Amy's monster of a biology teacher. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "I'll get this cleaned up-"

Mrs. Doonan shook her head and moved to the trashcan. "I'll get a janitor in here. You just clean yourself up and worry about getting to class on time."

Puzzled, Grace continued to just stand and stare at the woman as she uncurled the trash bag from the edges of the can and tied it off in a knot. It wasn't until Mrs. Doonan was done and realized that Grace hadn't moved a muscle that Grace finally retreated to the sink to rinse her mouth and wash her hands. She brushed her hands against her baby doll top and moved hastily to the door, pausing only to offer a quiet, "Thank you."

Mrs. Doonan waved her off. "It's my job," she said. But her face betrayed her stoic tone.

Grace ducked out of the bathroom and scurried down the hall and out the front doors, winding her way to the stone steps. She sat down on the top step and curled over, holding her stomach. The past few mornings she'd taken her mother's suggestion about eating cold and mostly scentless foods to heart. It usually worked, unless something else upset her stomach. Like someone else's lunch or stress or her attacker's cousin.

"Grace, what are you doing out here?"

The blonde's head shot up at the sound of Ricky's voice. "Hey," she squeaked. "Just – just a little nauseous."

Ricky sat down next to her. "Are you all right?" He placed his hand against her back.

Grace swallowed back the acrid taste of bile. "Yeah, yeah. I just needed a little fresh air." She quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I just got back from the courthouse." Ricky bowed his head. "Adrian told me that she told you about Heather."

"Don't be mad at her. I knew something was up before I confronted her about the details." She absently rubbed her stomach. "Have you seen her?"

"No, but the judge granted my parents' request for temporary custody."

"That's great!"

Ricky nodded. "I wanted to be there when they got the news." He combed his fingers through his hair. "I'm taking the day off from school to help set up her room tomorrow and then they're bringing her home this weekend. My mom thinks it'd be better if I just wait at home while they get her."

Grace nodded understandingly. "I think she's probably right. No offense."

"She usually is," Ricky said, rolling his eyes.

"Well maybe when she's settled in, I could stop by? I'd really like to see her." Grace gazed into her lap. "I'd bring her some cookies or brownies or something, but…"

Ricky rubbed Grace's back. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'd love to see you whenever she settles in."

"As long as she's not in a bitey mood I'm probably good, huh?" she said, looking at scabs on the drummer's arm.

"You know what? Why don't you call me before you decide to come over, okay?"

Grace grinned a bit. Somewhere in the background she heard the bell for passing period and groaned inwardly. As she started to push herself up she realized Ricky was offering his hand and Grace gladly accepted.

"I'll see you later, all right?"

"Tell her hi for me."

"I will."

Grace collected herself as Ricky walked away and then headed for class.

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

Adrian looked up from her test again. She was an excellent test taker, particularly on short answer and essay questions, but not today. She found herself lifting her head to check the time every few minutes and now the class period was nearly over but her test was still half incomplete. She cursed under her breath.

She had been off her game all week long and although she tried not to think about it, she was pretty sure it had everything to do with her boyfriend; her very suddenly and inexplicably distant boyfriend. Frustrated, Adrian pressed down harder on her pencil. Right in the middle of looping a g the lead snapped. "Damnit!"

"Ms. Lee?"

Adrian lifted her head and found several pairs of eyes silently staring back at her, including the teacher's; some amused, some annoyed, some surprised, and some just looking for a distraction. She smiled weakly and held up her broken pencil. "Lead broke." She stood and quickly swerved through the desks to get to the electric pencil sharpener. As soon as she put the pencil inside it began to snarl like a Rottweiler chained behind a fence. More eyes turned towards her so she kept her head down, checking the pencil every ten seconds or so to see if it was sufficiently sharpened. A whole minute later she returned to her desk, attempted to finish the g where she'd left off, but ended up erasing and rewriting it anyway.

Two-and-a-half short answer questions later, when almost everyone else was laying their tests on the teacher's desk, Adrian was still at her seat, hurriedly attempting to finish the question she was answering. There was only one other student with her, a girl by the name of Marissa that always ended up staying in her seat until she was verbally instructed that time was up. Before now, Adrian had always wondered how it was impossible for her not to finish in time. Now she felt bad for those condescending thoughts.

"Time, ladies."

The Latina growled under her breath and quickly drilled a period onto the page. She took her time getting her backpack and purse together and then trudged up behind her classmate and laid her test on the top of the pile, unfinished. The teacher's surprised expression didn't escape her and she merely shrugged. Her saving grace was the fact that the lowest test score was thrown out in this particular class, so as long as she didn't have another off day, she'd probably be fine.

"Of course that depends entirely upon Ben," she muttered, fishing her cell phone out of her purse. Within moments of turning it on it began to flash with a voicemail message. Curious, she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Adrian, it's Leo. I just wanted to let you know that I sent Briella home early today. She thought she might be getting a migraine and I didn't want to chance it getting worse. I know that Ben said he was supposed to go study at Amy's after work this evening, but I have a birthday party to cater so I can't stay home with Mercy. I've left a message for him as well, so between the two of you, please let me know what we can work out as soon as possible. Thank you. Bye."

Adrian rubbed her forehead as she arrived at the door of her next class. The electronic voice on the other end of the line informed her that she'd saved Leo's message. She quickly hit her speed dial for Ben and found that it went straight to voicemail. Typical, given that it was only passing period and she knew he rarely turned his phone on until lunch. "Ben, you'll probably get this after your hear your dad's message, so you know why we need to talk. Meet me at the entrance to the cafeteria. I have to go!" As she moved to drop her phone back into her purse someone bumped into her arm and it slipped, smacking screen down on the ground.

"Sorry."

Adrian rolled her eyes as she bent down to grab her cell. There was now a zigzagging scratch on the face of the screen. She attempted to wipe it on the edge of her shirt but it didn't help to buffer it. "Great. I hope the damage is only cosmetic." She shoved the phone into her purse and hurried inside, plopping herself down just as the bell rang to end passing period.

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

"Missing something?" Amy asked as she took her seat beside her lab partner and laid a key on the table in front of him.

Ben paled. "Where did you get this?"

"I saw you drop it on your way into class," Amy said while she yanked her textbook out of her backpack. "Why, was I not supposed to see it or something?" she laughed.

Ben pocketed the key. "Thanks."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "You're really touchy this week, you know that? What does that key go to, anyway?"

Ben focused on finding the right page in his textbook. "It's just a key," he answered dismissively.

"Oookay then." Amy located the review questions at the end of their assigned chapter and proceeded to tear a sheet of paper out of her binder to copy down the numbers. "Hey, about studying tonight-"

"I can't make it."

"What?" Amy blinked. "Why?"

"I have to babysit Mercy."

"Oh."

"Sorry. It was completely unexpected, I'm sorry." Ben honed in on the study questions. "Can we reschedule for the thirty-first?" he asked without looking at her.

"I – I guess. Are you sure that's all that's going on?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Amy lifted her shoulders up and down. "You just seem…preoccupied lately, I don't know."

"Come on, Amy. You've never had a couple stressful weeks before?"

The latter smiled. "Point taken. But you can't blame me for worrying. We are friends, after all."

Ben smiled. "And lab partners too. Lab partners with failing grades unless we get this done." He tapped the first question with the tip of his pencil. He held his cheerful expression until Amy looked down at the page and then he let out a quiet breath as he slipped his hand into his pocket and gently fingered the key he had apparently dropped.

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not for you," Ashley said in her trademark monotone. "It's for Heather."

Ricky stared at the box in his hands. It was square and judging by the size, probably large enough to contain a soccer ball, but it was wrapped in simple brown paper packaging, like the kind you find stuffed inside purses to show much they can hold. "What's in it?"

"A care package."

"When did you have time to put a care package together?"

"Last night."

"You didn't even know if my parents were going to get the okay for Heather to live with us last night."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I know your mom, Ricky. Of course they were going to get the okay. I was just a matter of when it would become official."

"Can I shake it?"

"Why not?"

Ricky rattled the box. Inside he heard padded thumps. "Are you going to leave me hanging here?"

"You really want to know?"

Ricky nodded.

"Midol, tampons, a couple of DVDs, and one end of a walkie talkie."

"A walkie talkie, really?"

"No, of course not," Ashley snorted. "It's a box of Oreos."

"I can never tell when you're joking."

Ashley slugged his arm. "Just make sure she gets that, okay?"

"Ya got time to walk with me? We can go put it in my car."

"I have nothing better to do. What do you need to talk about?"

"What do mean?"

"Just what I said. I know you well enough to know when you need to talk, so spill."

"I'm not regretting my decision for Heather to live with us," he prefaced, "but I'm just worried."

"About?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you? We're friends. We're not siblings or anything. It's different when you live with people. I should know, I bounced around fosters enough before I landed with Margaret and Shakur. Sometimes things happen after you live with people that you weren't expecting."

"Like what? You afraid you'll end up in bed with her?"

Ricky snorted. "Because we meaninglessly flirt with each other? Or, we did, before she bit the hell out of me."

"You're more kinky than I thought."

"Ash!"

Ashley stuffed her hand into his pocket to retrieve his key ring when they neared his parking space. She hit the button to disarm the alarm and then popped the trunk with another button. "You clearly can't take a joke. I know you don't have any interest in each other, not like that. But I get what you're saying. That's why I made the care package. I mean, think of it from her point of view: she's being forced to come live with her friend who she last saw when she bit him and his foster parents. There are no other kids in the house, nor any other women sans Margaret. Plus, she has already adjusted to being independent for nearly a year. Not to mention the depression and the drinking on top of it; not easy things to just get over. If you think it's going to be awkward for you, well, get in line."

Ricky pushed the trunk down and slipped the keys back from Ashley's hands. The car made a beeping noise as the alarm reactivated. "You've got a point."

"I always do."

Ricky slid his arm around her shoulders and paused in the middle of the parking lot to pull her into a little hug. "Yeah, you do."

Ashley hugged him back. "I really miss her. And I know it's not going to happen anytime soon, but I really miss our trio."

"I'll talk to my mom tonight. Maybe you can come over this weekend?"

"I promised my mom I'd help clean the house. And by 'promised' I mean I agreed at knife point. But, for Heather, she might make an exception. Give me a call and I'll see what strings I can pull. In the meantime," she checked her cell phone, "what d'ya have for lunch?"

"You don't have a lunch today?"

Ashley looked away from him. "Of course I did. I just left it on the kitchen counter. It's no biggie, if you don't have anything-"

"It's cool," Ricky cut in, attempting to keep the sound of his suspicion out of his voice. "My dad gave me a ten to get breakfast on the way to school this morning but I didn't have time. We can go raid the snack cart." He produced the ten dollar bill from his wallet as proof and noted the smile on his friend's face.

From one of the red picnic tables in the outside lunching area, Grace waved to Ricky and Ashley as she saw them heading towards the cafeteria doors. She smiled when they waved back and then returned her attention to her best friend, who was seated beside her. "I don't know what I should do, Adrian. One part of me feels like Griffin has a point. I mean…who am I to judge him? But another part of me feels like I should tell someone. If someone had intervened for me…"

Adrian reached across the table to place her hand on Grace's. "You saw what they did, right?"

"I heard the horrible things they were saying to him and I saw Charlie push him into the lockers."

"Then you're a witness to the harassment. You never had that."

"What if I tell and it gets worse?"

"What if you don't tell and it gets worse?"

Grace loomed over the table, leaning her elbows into the wells of the honeycomb mesh and covering her eyes with her hands. "I feel like it's partly my fault."

"What?"

"Griffin getting harassed…they were talking about him being a rapist's cousin."

"You had to do what's right for you, Grace, and prosecuting Grant is right."

"But Griffin never did anything to me. He doesn't deserve to be punished for being gay and certainly not for who his family is."

"Charlie and his friends chose to be sick, homophobic bigots. You didn't make them do what they did, but you can help to prevent them from doing it again."

Grace rubbed her forehead. "Yeah…I guess I need to go make a visit to Mr. Molina's office." She turned to the Latina and asked after a beat, "Will you come with me?"

"Sure."

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

The darkness was closing in around her as Adrian sat in Ben's bedroom with her fingers performing a complicated tango across the keyboard of her laptop. The successive strokes of the keys reminded her of rain hitting a window whenever she allowed her mind to wander just enough from the AP English she was trying to finish on George Orwell's 1984. She'd been staring at her screen for so long that it hadn't even occurred to her that it was dark until the screen on her cell phone lit up, catching the attention of her peripheral sight.

She saved the document and pushed the laptop aside, giving her strained fingers a quick flex before she grabbed her phone, noting that Mom was flashing across the caller I.D. screen. "Hey," she yawned as she answered the call.

"Are you busy?"

Adrian groaned and slid down the wall until her head was resting on one of Ben's pillows. "This can't be good. What's wrong?"

"My car died and I need you to come pick me up."

Adrian scrunched up her eyes. "What? You can't get a jump?"

"I called roadside assistance and they did try to give me a jump, but it's not working so it must be something other than the battery."

"There's nobody else you could get a ride with?"

"I know you're busy with school work, but –"

"It's not that," Adrian sighed. "Briella went home sick and Mr. Boykewich had a business meeting, so I'm at Ben's watching Mercy. I already put her to bed. In fact," Adrian pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the time, "Ben should've already been back by now!"

"Where is he?"

"Studying at Amy's. They've got some biology research presentation due next week, plus a final that's some ridiculous percentage of their grade. I tried to call him earlier, but his phone was going to voicemail. I'm guessing it must be dead. Or off, though he usually has it on after school. You know what, you're in a safe place, right?"

"I'm in a Wendy's, why?"

"Give me a minute, I'll call you right back." Adrian hung up and hit her speed dial. Once again, Ben's phone went to voicemail. "Ben, where are you? You were supposed to be here a half hour ago. My mom's car broke down and I need to go pick her up. Please, call me back!" She hung up, frustrated and verging on punching something. Possibly even Ben himself, if he were to ever show up. As she mulled over what to do, she heard the sound of the front down downstairs. "Thank you!" she murmured to the open air and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Adrian bolted out the door and down the stairs. "I'm so glad you're–" She stopped abruptly when she found not Ben or even Leo, but Camille. "–not Ben."

Camille smiled awkwardly. "Well, no offense to Ben, but so am I." She laughed, but stopped when she realized Adrian wasn't laughing with her. "Okay, bad joke."

"It's not that," Adrian grumbled. "I thought you were Ben. He should've been home by now but he's not. Nor is he answering his phone…and I need to go pick up my mom, but I can't leave Mercy here alone."

"Well, I can watch her if you need me to. I had intended to just drop by and pick up the sales books for the butcher shop, but I don't have anything pressing right now."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No," Camille laughed. "Not at all. Is she still up?"

"She's asleep. She doesn't wake up much in the middle of the night anymore, but –"

"I understand," Camille nodded. "I made a career out of babysitting when I was your age. She'll be fine."

"Thank you. Thank you!" Adrian said as she ran back up the stairs to grab her purse and coat. She tore through Ben's room collecting her things and then barreled back down the stairs. "And do me a favor: when Ben shows up, kick him for me!"

Camille gave her a mock salute. "Will do."

Adrian slammed the door without meaning to. She realized when she also slammed the door to her own car that she was even more peeved than she originally thought. She called her mother back as she started the engine, quickly filled her in on what was going on, and hung up with the promise to be there in about twenty to thirty minutes. However, before she actually pulled out onto the road, she tried Ben's phone again and, as she figured, was directed to his voicemail. This time, she didn't leave a message. Instead, she made last minute decision to turn the car around and make a right, instead of the left, which would've taken her towards the Wendy's her mother was stuck at.

By what she could only describe as a miracle, Adrian arrived at the curb in front of Amy's house without getting a ticket. She got out of the car with another door slam and charged up the walkway, her heels making sounds like a gunfighter's boots before a showdown on the cement. She climbed onto the lit porch and rapped against the door, waiting impatiently and knocking a second time before she heard noise on the other side. Seconds later the door opened just enough for Adrian to see Amy's face.

"A-Adrian?"

"Where's Ben?"

"What?"

"I want to talk to my boyfriend. Right now."

The door opened a little wider and Amy moved forward to fill the gap in the doorframe. "He's not here."

"How long ago did he leave?"

Amy stared blankly. "He was never here."

"He said you were studying together tonight."

"That was the plan, but he told me today in bio that something came up and he had to babysit Mercy."

Adrian felt her jaw unhinge. She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. For the first time, she realized that there was no sign of Ben's car in front of Amy's house or across the street. Between the darkness and her own anger, it had completely slipped her perception. "He wasn't here at all tonight?"

"No. I assumed the two of you were babysitting Mercy together."

"I've been with Mercy myself all night. And my calls keep going straight to his voicemail."

"Mine too. I mean, when I called him earlier this week. He –"

"Usually has his phone on."

"Yeah." Amy nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. "So, if he told me one thing and told you another, then where is he really at?"

"That's a damn good question."