This chapter's dedicated to eggplantica, who sent me a PM wondering when I'd update this thing. I immediately began writing, suddenly struck with blessed inspiration, and didn't stop until after midnight.
The explaining took a minute or so, just to catch him up to speed. Freddie listened silently, back rigid against the couch. Carly cut in now and again, punctuating my accusing speech with small, defending syllables. When I finished, Freddie tilted his chin upward, aiming a cutting stare at Carly- not unkind, but fairly serious. I'm not sure I liked it.
"Do you really like him?" Freddie asked. The corners of Carly's mouth twitched.
"Yeah," she said in the innocent, dreamy tone that Freddie used to melt over.
"Do you trust him?"
"I think so," Carly replied with a slight frown. "Wow, you're really serious about this, aren't you?"
Freddie continued without answering her question (or statement, I couldn't tell). "So, if I confronted Jake tomorrow about the call and texts Sam got, what do you think he'd do?"
Carly's expression darkened. "I don't know, and don't want to find out. Don't… Don't talk to him about it, okay? We've been talking--"
"So, you think he'd respond in a way that'd change your perception of him," Freddie cut in. Carly fell silent.
"…Maybe," she admitted after a moment's pondering. "Still, it might just be a huge misunderstanding, Mike probably imitated Jake's voice or something."
"Come on!" Freddie said impatiently. His torso had stiffened, leaving him with an extremely principal-like form- sitting straight up, hands folded in his lap, reprimanding a timid student for their stupidity. I felt like confessing to shoving someone into the cafeteria freezer. "You know Jake's a rotten liar, why are you sticking up for him? You're so much better than him!"
"He's not all bad!" Carly said meekly. "Jake's sweet, I just don't believe he'd so something like this."
"Check Sam's phone," Freddie said icily. "That should clear up any confusion."
"You're not going to fight him, are you?" Carly asked. When he remained quiet, she looked ready to cry. I shuffled from foot to foot, ashamed I had made the two talk. Sure, some conversation was in order, but this was painful to watch.
"It is kind of a stupid idea," I added. Both Freddie and Carly turned to me in surprise, as though they had forgotten I was there. This heightened my embarrassment, though not as much as what came out of Freddie's mouth two seconds later.
"I think it'd be good if you left, Sam," he said. "Carly and I sorta need to discuss… I dunno."
He half-shrugged. My temper flared.
"I'm part of this as much as you two are," I said angrily. Carly wrung her hands.
"You wanted me to talk to Freddie," she said in a voice that suggested she was attempting to soothe an aggravated tiger. "Well, I am. Let us work whatever we need to out. I'll tell you every word later."
Her smile was kind, if tense. I gave a curt nod before glancing at Freddie; he didn't look back.
I left telling myself repeatedly that Freddie wouldn't remain in his state of stony seriousness for much longer, but I couldn't help slamming the door a bit harder than I should have.
~*~
I barely remembered the rest of Sunday. It didn't pass quickly by any stretch of the word, but I was knee-deep in thought the entire time. Nothing gravely important, even, just worries and wonders and- most frequently- annoyed little snippets about Freddie and Jake. They possessed my mind, angering me for different reasons.
When nightfall came, I trudged home from wherever I had been prior to that and crawled into bed. No amount of cheesy (hammy?) poetry could remove me from the desolate place I had sunken into. The worst part was that I wasn't even looking forward to Monday; I was stuck in a very boring state of mind where you regard the world with a pessimistic attitude, suffering through the day and groaning at the thought of another one. Sleep couldn't come fast enough.
~*~
I was awoken by the sound of a canned ring tone. It was ten times louder than it should have been to my sensitive, sleepy ears, and I lay there, confused and tired, before grappling for the phone on my night table.
Damn. I hadn't caught the person in time. My phone had stopped playing elevator music, lying silent in the palm of my hand. Opening the phone, the message 'Eight Missed Calls' pulsed. I blinked. Eight?
My phone rang again. I answered the call immediately, half a ring into the cheery music. "Hello?" I said, glancing at the time. 6:02. I had little under an hour to get ready for school, more than enough time.
"Thank god you picked up!" Carly said. Her voice wavered- must've been the faulty connection.
"What's up? Did you call eight times?"
"Nine, counting this one."
"'Kay… Something tells me you didn't call to comment on the weather."
"You're right there," she said with a tired laugh. "Freddie… he's still going to fight Jake."
I shifted on the bed, resting on an elbow. "What? Why?"
"Because he's a stupid tomato, that's why!" she half-shrieked.
"A stupid… tomato."
"I'm tired, don't question my insults!"
"Got it. What happened after I left? You promised me details." My mind was running a mental sweep of the portion of last night's conversation that I had caught, trying to find clues as to what could have happened next.
"Well, we talked for a while," Carly said. "Basic stuff. I tried to defend Jake, and Freddie got pretty pissed off. I kept telling him that I was incredibly sorry that Jake had acted so jerkish, but I needed to speak to him on Monday, and that he should just hold off on the whole fighting thing. Freddie started yelling about how idiotic I was acting, how I'd always be taken advantage of."
"Intense."
"Mhm. I almost felt honored- he cared so much! Freddie's so great."
"Agreed. Continue." I wasn't in the mood to discuss Freddie's greatness. I was in the mood to discuss Freddie's crazy intentions.
"After a while, I told him he was screaming, and he quieted down. I said that I'd talk to Jake. He told me Jake would lie, like he always did. He said he was tired of that- what was it?- that bleach-blonde wanna-be player being a tyrant in our school, and that he wanted to teach him a lesson. I told him he couldn't, it was a huge mistake, blah blah blah."
"And he said… what, exactly?"
"That if I didn't dump him, he'd break Jake's face or die trying."
"Pfft. Drama queen."
"Tell me about it. Then Freddie held out his phone and told me to call Jake; I debated for a moment and finally refused. The look Freddie gave me could've killed. He said 'that's that' and made me leave."
"Before we continue," I said, "I'd like to advise you never to become a storyteller."
"Suggestion noted. So, what do we do?"
"We meet him first thing this morning and make him change his mind," I said simply, more lighthearted than I felt. "Then you break up with that bleach-blonde wanna-be player."
"See you in an hour," Carly said wryly. "And I wouldn't count on that second part."
"Stupid tomato."
"Sor-ry, would you prefer I call Freddie something a bit more… offensive?"
"Girl, you can't swear for your life."
Her next sentence proved me quite wrong. I was in shock for a moment.
"Okay, but only to save your life," I said shakily. She laughed before hanging up.
I grinned absentmindedly, loving the knowledge that Carly and I weren't fighting. It was a brilliant feeling, even if the fight had only lasted a day-ish.
Somehow I fell asleep again, phone in hand. Half an hour later I was woken up by my alarm clock, which I had set to an absurdly late time. Muttering a curse under my breath, I jumped up, changing, brushing, washing and readying fast as humanely possible. Soon me and my painfully heavy backpack were out the door.
I caught the bus just in time. The driver eyed me warily, probably checking for stink bombs or rotten eggs. I didn't blame him for worrying.
The ride was short, but gave me just enough time to realize that I had forgotten my science notebook at home. I pressed a hand against the window, peering in the direction of my trailer. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Carly was waiting outside the school, by the bike racks. She smiled as I raced towards her, though my arrival did nothing to ease the anxiousness on her face. We exchanged greetings.
"Where's--"
"Our little tomato?" she said, glancing around. I pursed my lips.
"Let's not make this a thing, okay?"
She laughed. "Gotcha. Freddie is nowhere to be seen, unless you've seen him."
"Nope," I said. "I have Social Studies first, he's not in it. You?"
"Math," she said glumly. "Boring, Freddie-less math."
We entered the school, still searching for Freddie vigorously. Carly asked a few passing friends; none of them had seen him.
"We'll find him sooner or later," I assured her. "It's not that big of a school."
She didn't reply, features clouding with conflicting emotions, none of them pleasant.
"Carls…?"
"Jake," she said, pointing. Yep, there he was, leaning against a set of lockers looking far too cool for his own good.
"Kill him," I advised. "Now. While you have a clear shot."
"I like my boyfriends alive," she said, the teensiest bit affronted. I backed off.
The bell rang, signifying that both of us were late for class. Exchanging a parting look of worry, we headed our separate ways.
~*~
A period passed. Two. Three. Freddie was absent in all of them; I wish we had more classes together. My science teacher yelled at me for forgetting my binder. I stared blankly back at him, nodding and apologizing when necessary. In gym, I was pelted by foam balls and screamed at by our red-faced, always-seething-with-nonsensical-anger coach. It didn't matter. I could barely hear him.
My fourth period was, thankfully, English, which Freddie and I shared. I almost skipped towards the classroom, ready to tell Freddie off for an appropriately long time.
When I entered the class, door lined with the remainders of past assignments, I scanned the room for Freddie; he was up by the teachers' desk, talking quietly to Mrs. Wolffe while the rest of the class chattered cheerfully. I took my seat, eyes locked on the back of Freddie's head. Our seats had changed last week; he sat diagonal to me. It wasn't ideal for passing notes, but I could manage.
"Today, class, we discuss Unit 16 of your vocab books. Take them out," Mrs. Wolffe chirped from the front of the room, though it was hardly necessary. The good kids had their books already on their desks, and the rest of us had started reaching for ours as soon as the word 'Vocab' had left her mouth.
I flipped to Unit 16, praying I had actually done the work. Thankfully, I had. Every problem involving grammatical errors had been righted by my scribbled corrections, and that seemed to be all this unit consisted of.
Mrs. Wolffe paraded up and down the rows, bending over books to inspect our work. I ripped a piece of scrap paper off as quietly as I could. Freddie's head was bent; I longed for him to jump up on his desk and shout, "I WILL NOT FIGHT!" just to ease some of my panic. I doubted he would.
I wrote: r u going to fight? on the scrap before tapping the kid next to me and whispering instructions. She nodded, taking the paper and tossing it to Freddie's desk. Smooth.
He read it, scribbled something on the back, and passed it back with an old maneuver- drop your pencil, reach down to grab it, shove the note towards the desired person. I picked it up.
Yes. I'm doing this for you and Carls. Don't complain.
His message had to curve into the corner of the note. I shoved the paper into a pocket.
"Samantha!"
"Wha?" I turned to find Mrs. Wolffe glaring at me.
"I said, open your book." Oh.
She checked the four pages of problems before moving on to the next kid. I got lucky.
I chanced another note, scribbling, Don't. It wasn't a long or even slightly coherent message, but I had to begin my protests somewhere.
This time I was caught. Mrs. Wolffe snatched the paper before it had left my hands; never outstretch you arm with a note when the teacher's walking by. She turned it over to see if my Don't was the only word written. Finding nothing incriminating, she gave me a warning and moved up the row. Freddie swiveled in his seat to face me, mouthing, Don't try. I quirked an eyebrow.
The period ended. I quickly sidestepped in front of Freddie's desk, blocking his only exist.
"You're not challenging Jake," I said with finality. "If you throw a punch, he'll throw one back, and you know it. You also know that said punch could break quite a few of your pearly whites, and if you don't know this, you'll find out soon enough."
He stared up at me blankly. "I have to. I can't just stand there and watch this creep hurt Carly."
"You could send him a threatening letter signed in your own blood."
I allowed Freddie to stand, walking with him to the door and out into the hall. I had science; who knows what he had.
"Too simple," he said with his half smile. "I'm trying to fight conformity."
"Hey." I stopped us both against a row of lockers, blocking several kids' access to their books. I didn't care. "Promise me you won't fight."
"We've been over this before. I'm fighting."
"Okay, well, promise me you'll try not to fight."
"I'm not promising you anything. I need to get to math."
"Promise you'll try to try to try to try?"
"That made no sense. No."
He made to leave. I grabbed his shoulder, fingers digging in. Must've been painful- a short prelude to his beating.
"Humiliation. Pain. Defeat. Do these words mean anything to you?" I said exasperatedly.
His expression deepened. "I'll experience them all," he said defiantly. "If it means I earn a bit of respect for trying, and maybe- just maybe- teach you and Carly about picking guys."
He removed my fingers from his shoulder, stalking away like a freaking superhero. "But I picked you!" I called after him. "I was using Jake- does that mean you're gonna pick a fight with me?"
It was a wonder Freddie even heard me, though he tossed a smirk over his shoulder just to let me know he had.
~*~
My remaining class were infinitely boring. Boring, but so, so long; each second ticked by leisurely, enjoying itself thoroughly by making me wait for time to pass. The hands of the clocks in each class might as well have been laughing at me.
Finally, my last period of the day rolled around. I waited for it to end so I could tackle Freddie, secure him in handcuffs, and keep him in a padded room until he got his head on straight.
Concocting how to precisely carry this feat out took up most of the class. I daydreamed while the teacher droned on and on; I even forgot which class I was in.
The bell rang. I stared, open mouthed, at the speaker blasting the noise for a moment, unable to believe it. The day was over. Done. Finished. And so was Freddie, if I didn't stop him.
I scrambled from the class, leaving a few notebooks behind. The teacher called after me, pointing angrily to the notebooks sitting sadly under my desk; I resisted the urge to scream, "My boyfriend's gonna DIE!" in her direction, as this would probably freak out a few people around me.
The crowd in each hallway thinned as kids assembled their backpacks and went home. I envied them, though their absence gave me a clearer view of where Freddie might be.
Another hallway was officially Freddie-less. I groaned, swiftly jogging into another section of the school.
"Sam!"
I turned, almost colliding with a frantic Carly.
"What's--"
"He's doing it, I tried to stop him but it was way too late, Jake's already pissed and he's going to absolutely die--"
"You're scaring me, Carls," I said, attempting to calm her down. No such luck.
"Come on!" Carly began dragging me down the hall, breaking into a flat run when I found my balance.
Please don't let him do this, I pleaded mentally. Please, please, please.
"They went outside," Carly said breathlessly, pulling me through the double doors. Sunlight blinded me for a moment. "They should be here- oh no…"
Oh no indeed. We raced across the grass, a good ways away from the school to find an enormous group of people standing in a half-circle, cheering. They weren't cheering mindlessly, though- some pulled at their hair, mouthing, "No! Go, go!" Some punched the hair, screaming- oh, God- screaming, "Finish him!"
Carly and I looked at each other in horror. She bit her lip, gesturing with a nod to get closer. We might as well, now.
The two of us muscled our way closer to the sport, eager and terrified to see if it was indeed what we believed it was. I caught a glimpse, but couldn't tell any faces. The crowd of constantly flailing spectators was too thick.
"Freddie!" Carly shouted, voice tinged with dismay, seeing something I couldn't. My stomach turned to ice. I was chilled through and through.
"Move!" I screamed at the guy standing closest to me. He glared at me for half a moment before returning his eyes to the spectacle. This was just entertainment for him.
A sock full of butter would have been so useful right about now. Instead, I used my foot, kicking the kid's shin as hard as I could. He crumpled.
With the tall guy out of the way, there were just two people in front of me blocking the view. A cry of pain sounded from somewhere ahead of me; three fourths of the circle roared triumphantly.
I shoved. I pushed. I might have even bitten. All I know was that the two people in front of me scattered, and I witnessed something the whole world could have done without.
~*~
It was Jake and Freddie, all right. Do I even have to tell you who was winning? Who do you think?
Freddie lay panting on the ground, one eye blackened, his lip bloodied, favoring his left leg. His expression was no longer defiant and intuitive; it was terrified, and mostly filled up with anguish.
Jake towered over him, breathing heavily but certainly better off than the brave nerd below him. He had a flowering bruise on the side of a cheekbone; my heart swelled with pride. Little Freddie could throw a punch after all. His knuckles were cut; I hoped that they weren't just hurt from destroying Freddie. He took a step closer to his prey. Freddie flinched.
"You want more?" Jake shouted. It was barely audible over the crowd's din. Freddie jumped to his feet, swaying but upright. Back down, you idiot!
Freddie bent slightly, head inclining. He was faking. I knew; I had seen him use this tactic all the years I used him as a literal and verbal punching bag. Freddie pretends he's worse off than he is, to get out of a tight spot. Maybe this meant his retirement from the fighting business.
Three seconds after this happy thought pierced all the gloom, Freddie dove at Jake, bringing them both to the ground. Jake protected his face with his hands as Freddie tried his best to clobber the bigger boy. His fists flew; they must've hurt, even if they barely glanced off Jake's body.
The half circle of people went wild. A good twist to an already interesting fight always sparked further attraction. The people next to me called gibberish, lusting for violence.
Freddie was shouting something. I couldn't hear; no one could. No one except Jake. His eyes narrowed behind his hands as he fought to weaken Freddie's grip.
Jake delivered a devastating uppercut in the middle of Freddie's mysterious lecture; I cried out as Freddie fell backwards, mouth open in surprise. He struggled for breath as Jake's fist had knocked all he had from his lungs.
Jake aped around the makeshift ring, pandering to the crowd while Freddie collected himself. A girl yelled, "Get him!" I sent her invisible mind daggers.
Freddie wasn't faking now. He really was tired, body covered in bruises and cuts. Jake showed him no mercy this time; his job was to give the people what they wanted. I pressed against the kids who had sidestepped in front of me, not cutting off my view but blocking me from jumping into the fight.
Jake dragged Freddie upright. This time, I heard as Jake shouted about how Freddie had started this thing, wasn't he gonna finish it? Freddie slammed the whole of his weight against Jake, failing to knock him over again but succeeding in bruising Jake's ribs. In a fury, Jake began delivering a series of brutal punches to Freddie's gut. Didn't the teachers hear this? Why wasn't anyone stopping them?
"Jake!" Carly shouted repeatedly. I glanced at her; Carly's eyes were ablaze, seeing her boyfriend in a new and unflattering light. She grasped my hand briefly, squeezing it before returning to the task of getting Jake's attention. It would never work.
Freddie was speaking again. I don't know how he found the air to talk, but he did, punching Jake ninja-style between the eyes. Well, it looked ninja-like to me. Jake gritted his teeth, roaring as he came at Freddie again. A scare tactic. Pathetic, really.
Freddie grabbed at Jake's hair, dodging poorly aimed blows (though some caught him, leaving nasty marks). I realized I was crying; not so much that the waterworks really flooded, but a few tears made it down my face. They were quickly wiped away. It hurt, to see Freddie injured intentionally by someone I had liked.
Jake threw Freddie to the ground; I winced, pushing harder on the person restraining me. He lost his step, actually setting foot beyond the invisible barrier between stage and crowd for a moment. Jake kicked Freddie's side like an abusive dog owner. I detested him in that moment. So, so much. Luckily, Freddie caught Jake's foot; not upending him like I would have, but holding him in that awkward position, breathing raggedly and keeping his gaze.
"Okay," I saw Freddie mouth. Jake grinned, jerking back his foot and turning to the crowd with his arms raised high. They rushed him, surrounding the winner in an instant. I was released from the death grip of the five people that had been around me, free to clasp hands with Carly and worry.
The crowd thinned, having had their fun. I shoved as many of them as I could. Jake kicked Freddie a final time, a supercilious smile on his face, before turning to leave with his friends.
"Jake!" Carly shouted after him. Her voice was terribly sharp. He turned, grin fading. I left the two alone, rushing to Freddie's side.
"You stupid, stupid tomato!" I hissed, getting to my knees. He looked so much worse up close.
"What?" God, his voice was hoarse. How had he managed to even bruise his voice?
"I- I mean idiot. You're an idiot. Probably the biggest idiot who ever lived."
"I know," he said with a smile that obviously hurt him. Blood trickled from his mouth.
"I mean, what could you have possibly been thinking? That it would have been a good idea to coax a hyper-athletic jock to beat you up? You couldn't teach a flower a lesson, Fredward Benson! You're a camera-holding, tech-obsessive pretty boy, and if you ever forget that again, I'll teach it to you Jake style."
His shoulders sagged, either at my anger or at the increasing amount of pain he was in. Both were sufficiently annoying.
"I'm not going to be sweet about this," I said shortly. "You scared me half to death, you got yourself into this little tiff, and I'm ridiculously mad."
"I know."
Why did he have to sound so weak? His jean leg was soaked with blood; I noticed this and shuddered.
"Okay, how did he manage to actually cut you?" I demanded.
"There was glass…" Freddie trailed off, coughing.
"Moron!" I said through gritted teeth.
"Me or Jake?"
"Both. Neither. I don't know. I don't care. Hold on."
I retrieved my phone from its carrier on my backpack. Freddie lay there, looking about three seconds away from the big golden gates.
"I'm going to get the nurse," I said quietly. "I'll call your mom too."
He groaned at the mention of his mother. "She'll kill me," he muttered.
"You're already dead. When you get better, I'm coming after you with a baseball bat for scaring me like that."
He grinned. I grinned back, just for a moment, before rushing off to get the nurse. He was such an idiot. I loved him so much.