PART TWO: Standing United Back to Back

OR

The Beginning of Something Beautiful

Chapter 12

Lunch Break

OR

Grapes and Giggles and the Dumbest of Dumb Jokes

CLARKE

"I solemnly swear that I am up to..." Clarke said through a wry smile as she plunked the butterscotch pudding onto Mr. Kane's desk.

"No good." The man grinned through his wild beard, snagging her offering and pulling a bag of Cheetos from the shadowy depths of a drawer. "Mischief..."

"Managed!" Clarke giggled, practically snatching the Cheetos from his outstretched palm.

Mr. Kane went back to organizing papers on his desk as Clarke strolled to her usual spot in the corner. Despite his ever constant enthusiasm, she had yet to ever witness the man actually opening a pudding snack. She had yet to see him eat a single sugary spoonful. And Clarke could not help but wonder if maybe there was a little mini-fridge in the back room overflowing with untouched pudding snacks of every flavor stacked in neat little rows. Or maybe Mr. Kane took the pudding cups home with him each night to share with his daughter. Or perhaps he was eating them after all, but, though he let Clarke slide, the librarian in his blood was too strong and he simply could not bring himself to open the cups until he left the sacred sanctuary of the library. Whatever the case, the daily snack exchange was practically a tradition now, and it was always one of the brightest moments of Clarke's day.

"So..." A laughing voice made Clarke jump behind her thick copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and she pulled herself from the dark corner of the Shrieking Shack back into the bright, fluorescently lit corner of the library. "You're bribing Mr. Kane with PUDDING SNACKS?"

Clarke's surprise and fear faded as she realized the voice belonged to Lexa, but her heart continued to beat wildly within her just the same.

"Who knew a man with a beard like that could be won over so easily?" Lexa laughed and again Clarke could not help but join in.

"Can I sit with you?" Lexa asked, pulling up a chair before Clarke could even shoot her a smile or give her a nod in reply.

"You know..." Lexa balanced on the points of her elbows, leaning in towards Clarke with her eyebrows raised. "We can be friends at Tae Kwon Do AND at school. They're not mutually exclusive."

"Yeah, I know." Clarke chuckled.

"So what are you doing here, all alone in the library?" Lexa asked with a tiny frown. "Why don't you come eat in the Cafeteria with me and Raven and Octavia?"

Clarke thought of the massive cafeteria with its gray walls and gray floor and rows and rows of gray tables lined with laughing faces. She hadn't stepped foot in it since the day her chicken-fried-steak had leaped from her plate to skid across the linoleum. And even before Ontari had tripped her, Clarke had already felt like she was lost at sea, drowning, suffocating.

"I like it in here." She shrugged. "It's quiet... Peaceful."

"Yeah," Lexa conceded, cocking her head like a deer listening for the snapping of twigs on the wind. "I guess the quiet is kinda nice."

"Want a grape?" Clarke asked, pushing the lumpy ziploc baggy towards Lexa. "Or a Cheeto?"

"Thanks, I love grapes." Lexa's smile was so bright, Clarke was considering offering the girl her entire Pizza Lunchables just to keep it hanging there a little longer.

"Where's YOUR lunch?" Clarke asked. "You going to go get something from the cafeteria?"

"Oh... I already ate mine." Lexa replied.

"Lunch period just started ten minutes ago." Clarke remarked, confused.

"Yeah... I guess I kinda scarfed it down." Lexa laughed, and Clarke couldn't help but notice the hint of pink in her cheeks. "I wanted to come find you."

"You should just bring your lunch with you next time. Mr. Kane won't mind. Especially if you have something to offer him."

"I... Uhhhh... I have to get hot lunches." Lexa answered, and as the pink flushed to red, Clarke realized Lexa must be part of the 'No Child Left Hungry' free lunch program. But she didn't think there was any reason Lexa should be embarrassed about that and she would have told her so, but before she could find the words, Lexa was already laughing again. "And I don't think Mr. Kane would let me bring in a tray full of Sloppy Joe's and tater tots, not even if I brought him Krispy Kreme donuts."

"Yeah... Maybe not." Clarke chuckled, sprinkling cheese on her half-assembled Lunchables' pizza. "Then again... He lets me bring pizza sauce in..."

"Marinara this close to his precious books? He must REALLY like pudding." Lexa laughed. "Or... He must really like YOU." She added, blushing slightly.

And Clarke, feeling the blush in her own cheeks, didn't reply. She just dropped her gaze and started slowly, meticulously adding the tiny, rubbery 'pepperonis' to her pizza.

"So, Clarke..." Lexa slumped back in her seat and propped her feet up against the empty chair beside her, making herself right at home. "Why did your family move to Portland?"

"Well... My mom wanted either Portland, Seattle, or Colorado Springs." Clarke answered. They were all places that had pine trees and squirrels and snow-capped mountains; places where you could see the fog of your breath most of the year; places where the oceans and the rivers and the lakes could pull the feeling from your shivering limbs within minutes. They were all cities that Abby was drawn to because they were nothing at all like L.A.. They were places where her mother thought the memories would never follow her to. "But she chose Portland after St. Vincent's Hospital offered her a position in the E.R.."

"Oh... No..." Lexa corrected her. "I didn't mean why did you move to PORTLAND? I meant, why did you move in the first place? Why did you leave California?"

"Oh..." Clarke mumbled, wondering how to reply. The question was innocent. Clarke knew Lexa was just trying to make friendly conversation. But her words cut into Clarke. And though she desperately wanted to stay right here, sitting with Lexa, Clarke was suddenly sitting in another uncomfortable plastic chair, surrounded by uncomfortable quiet, squinting against even harsher artificial lighting, watching nurses scramble by with squeaky shoes and clipboards. And then she was being led down a bright white hall, pulled by her mother's shaky fingers wrapped around her wrist, following a doctor wearing a white coat and a frown. And her eyes were burning against the florescent brightness and her nose was burning with the sweet scent of lemon air-freshener trying (and failing) to cover the chemical stink of bleach trying (and failing) to cover the lingering stench of sickness and death.

And now she was whispering goodbye to a man they told her was her father. And the words felt all wrong on her tongue. Because she could find no trace of the man she loved in this face that was covered in bruises and gashes... In the face that was not smiling or laughing or winking at her. And she wanted to throw up. And she wanted to scream and run from the room. And she wanted to fall to the sparkling white linoleum and curl herself into a ball so tight she could never be unfurled again. But she was just standing there, blinking as the world spun around her and her mother nodded through her tears and the frowning doctor nodded back. And then, with a simple flick of his finger, the man had switched off the ventilator. And with the flip of that switch, Clarke's entire life had been flipped upside down.

"Clarke?" Lexa's soft voice called her back to the present.

"Ummm... Can we talk about something else?" Clarke asked in an even softer voice.

Lexa surveyed Clarke with a small concerned frown. But within seconds she was smiling again. "We don't have to talk at all if you don't want to." She shrugged. "You can read if you want. And I'll just..." She paused, wriggling her lips back and forth in search of something before snagging Clarke's geometry textbook from the mess of books on the table. "Uhh... Study math!" She said in a mock cheerful voice.

Clarke gave her a grateful smile. But she didn't dive back into the final battle for Hogwarts. She just munched on her pizza and watched Lexa absentmindedly flipping through her textbook.

"Hey, Clarke... What did Zero say to Eight?" Lexa asked, already grinning like an idiot at her own joke.

"Seven ate Nine?" Clarke asked before immediately shaking her head. "No... That's for why Ten's scared of Seven... What did Zero say to Eight?" She repeated, cocking her head and furrowing her brows in thought. "I don't know."

"Nice Belt!" Lexa chuckled.

Clarke just stared at her until Lexa's silly grin faltered.

"Get it?" Lexa asked softly, as if concerned Clarke might be stupider than she realized. "Because if you wrapped a belt around a zero..."

"Yeah, I got it." Clarke answered.

"But... You didn't laugh..."

"That's probably the dumbest joke I've ever heard." Clarke replied, now laughing at the small look of confusion and hurt on Lexa's face.

"Really?" Lexa asked, her expression now twisting into appalled disbelief. "Then I need to fix that. Cause I know a whole lot more dumber jokes than that one! Actually... The zero's belt joke is one of the BETTER jokes in my repertoire of horrible, stupid, cheesy jokes."

"Great." Clarke said, sarcastically. But she couldn't hide her grin. "Can't wait to hear them all."

"Well, I can't just tell them all at once." Lexa protested. "Each joke deserves it's own moment of appreciation. Tell you what... I'll tell you one stupid joke during lunch every day... That is... Assuming you still want there to be a 'next time,' like you said before..."

Clarke didn't answer. She figured she didn't have to, because by the tightness in her cheeks, she knew she was still grinning.

***...***

LEXA

"Dude... Are you going to actually CHEW your spaghetti, or what?" Octavia asks me, her eyebrows raised and lip pulled back in disgust as if watching a mangy St. Bernard slobbering his way through a bowl full of kibble.

"Huh?" I mutter through a mouthful of noodles, slurping at the bits that are trying to escape the corners of my open trap.

"You're making me sick watching you." She complains. "And I don't wanna lose my appetite on Spaghetti Day. You know it's my favorite."

"She's right." Raven chimes in between sips of chocolate milk. "If you don't slow down, I'm going to end up having to do the Heimlich on you. And, while I know I'd benefit from some hands-on practice on an actual human being instead of a plastic doll, I don't think I'm ready to perform it on YOU. I mean, I'd rather test it on someone I don't like, like Ontari or Roan first, just in case I don't quite have the technique down yet."

"What?" I ask, shoving another forkful of pasta into my mouth.

"Slow down, or I'm confiscating your lunch." Raven threatens, tugging at the corner of my tray.

"Take it." I mutter through my overflowing mouthful, before taking a huge swallow. "I'm done."

"Dude... You just sat down. What's the hurry? You have a hot date to get to, or what?" Octavia asks, looking torn between concern and amusement.

"I just have somewhere else I gotta be." I grin, licking the salty-sweet splatters of spaghetti sauce from my lips.

"Could she be any more cryptic?" Raven asks Octavia, with her own look of concerned amusement.

Octavia just shrugs. "Well then... If YOU'RE not gonna finish it..." She snags my half-eaten plate of pasta and dumps the soggy mess onto her own pile of spaghetti. And just like that, Octavia's look of concern for my mental health transforms into her own grin at the sight of her spoils.

"Enjoy." I laugh, pushing myself up from the bench. "After all... I know it's your favorite."

And I don't know if Raven is shaking her head more at me or at Octavia. But I don't stick around long enough to find out.

***...***

"All alone again, today, Lexa?" Mr. Kane asks as I stroll past his desk, smiling at the sight of an unopened vanilla pudding snack sitting beside his elbow.

"Yes, sir."

"You need help with anything?"

"No, sir."

"OK... Just let me know if you change your mind. I'm always here, you know."

I give him a small nod and a weak smile as I quickly glance at his eyes. And I want to hold his gaze because of the kindness in it. But, like always, I have to look away because of the sadness in it. And I know, just like Master Anya's, Mr. Kane's words mean so much more than they seem. He is offering me so much more than just help finding some forgotten, dusty book in this labyrinth of shelf after shelf of forgotten, dusty books.

Only a few years ago Mr. Kane was almost like a second father to me, back when I practically spent as much time at his house as my own. But then Costia had gotten sick and the sleep-overs had abruptly ended. And I had waited for her everyday, but Costia never did come back to school. And shortly after she disappeared, her mother packed her bags and disappeared right along with her, leaving nothing behind but the sadness in Mr. Kane's eyes. Mr. Kane stopped smiling and he grew a beard around his frown and suddenly I barely recognized the man who used to laugh and wrap me up in my Lion King sleeping bag so tightly I could hardly wiggle my arms; the man who would tuck me in beside Costia like two pigs in a blanket and wish us 'goodnight, my Little Bedbugs,' just like I were his own as much as Costia was.

But now Costia is gone. And my own father is gone. And the sleeping bag with Mufasa and Simba gazing up at the stars is gone. I threw it in the dumpster one night because I couldn't hardly bring myself to even look at it. Because it reminded me of Costia. And it reminded me of my father. And in the last few years I've barely spoken more than two sentences at a time with Mr. Kane. Because I can hardly bring myself to even look at him. Because he reminds me of Costia. And he reminds me of my father. And he reminds me of the fact that no one tucks me in at night anymore.

"Yes, sir... Thank you." I mumble and I try not to look at his smile. Because I know that I cannot make him grin like Clarke does. Because I am sure I only remind him of the fact that he no longer has any bedbugs to tuck in at night. And even though it is kind, the smile he has for me is always far too sad.

I make my way all the way to the very back of the library so I can sneak up on Clarke from behind her. I peek at her through an empty space where the B Encyclopedia ought to be, pushing the A, D, and C volumes aside so I can wedge my face between them. Clarke has the Deathly Hallows out again, propped in one hand, and a sandwich in the other. And I can't help but smile as I realize that she doesn't seem to be paying any attention to either of them. She keeps looking up as if waiting for someone. And it makes my stomach flip inside of me to know that that someone is ME.

I swallow hard and clear my throat and try not to laugh at the way she jumps in her chair as I pop out from behind the shelf and speak in the deepest voice I can muster.

"Arrrr... What be a pirate's favorite letter?" I ask. I'm not quite Captain Barbossa, but for a twelve-year-old girl I think my pirate voice is pretty darn good.

"What?" Clarke pants, dropping Harry Potter so that she can clutch at her chest. "You scared the crap out of me, Lexa!" She scolds me, but already the smile is crossing her face and flooding light into her eyes like sunshine. And I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit.

"What be a pirate's favorite letter?" I repeat, just barely managing to keep the giggles at bay.

"Oh... I know this one." Clarke lets out the smallest of chuckles. "R." She answers flatly with a roll of her pretty blue eyes.

Yes! She's taken the bait, just as planned. "No." I growl. "It be the mighty 'C.' I answer, holding a finger out like a hook and then adding my thumb to curl it into a C.

Clarke rolls her eyes again, but if anything, they have only gotten brighter as she fights the grin tugging at her lips. "OK... You're right..." She admits. "That IS dumber than the 0 and 8 joke."

Oh, she has no idea. I'm not finished yet.

"What be a pirate's SECOND favorite letter?" I ask.

Clarke just stares at me, looking confused.

"Say 'R' again." I whisper in my normal voice.

"R?" She asks, and at the look on her face, I'm sure I am not going to be able to get through the rest of this without bursting into laughter. It is building, building, building inside of me, and I have to take a deep, steadying breath to keep it there.

"Aye..." I answer, forcing myself to keep breathing as I pause dramatically. "No... It be 'I.' What be a pirate's THIRD favorite letter?"

Clarke's eyebrows are raised as if she is judging my stupidity and the giggles are so close to the surface I now have to hold my breath to keep them from escaping and ruining my pirate voice. I'm almost there. I'm almost there.

"Ummm... R?" She asks, already looking like she regrets deigning to answer me.

"Aye..." I growl, my deep voice finally cracking in my losing battle against the giggles. "Aye... It be Rrrrrr." I finish. And I finally let the laughter bubble up and erupt out of me. And I do not catch my breath again until Clarke's pretty, soft laughs join in.

"OK... That was the most EPICALLY stupid, stupid joke I've ever heard. I don't know how you are going to top that." Clarke grins, and already I cannot wait for tomorrow's lunch.

"So... Are you going to Master Anya's Halloween party tomorrow night?" I ask, plunking down in the chair beside her.

"I dunno..." She mutters, nibbling on the corner of her turkey sandwich. "Rrrrrr you going?" She asks, and her pirate voice is so unexpected and so completely pathetic that I burst into another wave of giggles at the joke.

"Aye... Of course I am." I answer when I can breathe again. "I never miss one of Master Anya's parties. They're the best. You totally have to come."

"Well... If YOU'RE going..." Clarke bites her lip, considering. "Do we have to wear a costume?"

"Of course." I chuckle. "It's HALLOWEEN."

"What are YOU going to be?"

I have no idea. Just like every year, I have no costume. And I hardly think throwing our worn, holey sheet over my head and calling myself a 'ghost' is going to work AGAIN.

"I'm not telling." I answer. "I guess you'll just have to come and find out for yourself, huh?" I tease, wiggling my brows.

"I guess so." She smirks back, tossing me a big, open ziploc baggie of grapes, laughing as they roll from between my fingers and trickle into my lap.