A/N: I seriously blown away by all your reviews for this story. I can confidently say that without them this story wouldn't be what it is. They've definately kept me inspired, so a HUGE thanks to all of you. I think there'll be two chapters after this one. Perhaps three. And this will probably be the last epic cliffhanger that I blugeon you all with xD

Thirty Four:

The Party's Over

Gary felt like he was going to puke. The amount of times Derby's foot had rammed into his stomach must have moved some form of vital organ out of place because something felt strained and twisted. He could taste the metallic blood in his mouth and one of his eyes had gone blurry and out of focus. But he was perfectly alert. Perfectly aware of Petey's unconscious body slumped on the ground in front of him. The switchblade was buried in his skinny little waist, and Gary was surprised that the damn thing hadn't popped out of the other side. Blood soaked the black sweater.

'Petey…' Gary muttered, voice distorted because of his swollen bottom lip. He grasped the smaller boy's shoulder with one hand - his other hand was out of action due to his snapped wrist. He shook him once, hard. 'Femme-boy, you little shit. Wake up. Don't you fucking dare bail on me now.'

Petey wasn't responding. His eyelids were closed, mouth slack. His head rolled back and forth as Gary shook him a second time, even harder than the first.

'Petey!' Gary snarled, angrily. 'Get the fuck up! Stop being such a pussy and get the fuck up now!'

He was yelling, but he didn't care. He also knew that threats and cursing weren't going to get Petey on his feet - at least not this time - but he didn't know what else he could do. That was all Gary knew. It was the only way he could get Petey to do as he said; but punching and yelling weren't going to work this time. But it didn't stop him.

Gary shook his limp body again, frightened by the unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest. What the hell was that? Was he going to have a heart attack or something? He wouldn't be surprised after the way that bastard had been stamping on his chest. But that wasn't it. It felt like the muscles around his heart had tightened, trying to hold in the pounding organ. What the hell was that?

'What the fuck did you go and do that for you stupid little fag?' Gary yelled at Petey. 'You knew you couldn't do anything! You can't do anything right! You should of just kept out of the damn way! I didn't need your fucking help! I don't need anyone's help!'

Something stung his eyes and he impatiently wiped it away, expecting it to be blood from some other Preppy-inflicted wound. But at the gleam on his fingers he blinked. He rubbed the clear liquid between his thumb and forefinger and stared in shock. Was he crying? Crying like a little fucking girl over this piece of shit?

His stomach knotted and he grabbed Petey again, confusion and anger surging inside of him. 'Wake the hell up right now, Pete! Or I swear to fucking God I'll finish you off myself!' His voice broke. It was a horrifyingly frightening sound to him. Gary didn't get hysterical. He kept his cool, no matter what. But apparently that was no longer true. He felt more of the alien, hot tears in his eyes and it only infuriated him further. He opened his mouth to yell again, but another voice interrupted him.

'He fell.' Derby muttered in a small voice. 'He… I didn't mean… I… He just…'

Gary's head snapped around, face streaked with blood and tears. The tight feeling in his chest shifted to something a whole lot more familiar. Anger. He glared at the bloodied Prep, feeling his heart speeding up and the adrenaline pumping through him. His breath hissed out between his teeth.

'The stupid little bastard…' Derby muttered, face white as chalk and eyes like saucers. His hand was still holding the ghost of the switchblade by his side. 'He fell right on it… He just…' His eyebrows knitted together suddenly and his eyes turned into shards of glass. 'You stupid little fuck!' He bellowed. 'You fell right on it! What have you done, you filthy little wretch?'

The sound of the raised voices attracted the attentions of Jimmy and Johnny, and the pair of them rushed back out onto the balcony. Johnny's nose was bleeding heavily and the side of Jimmy's face was swollen, presumably where he had been hit by the chair leg. Both of them stared at the scene on the balcony for a few seconds, before Jimmy lumbered forward.

'Pete!' he cried, staggering towards the unconscious boy. 'What the hell…' His gaze fell on the switchblade and his tiny eyes widened dramatically. He knelt down and put his hand on the glistening patch by the knife. He pulled back and blinked stupidly at the red blood there.

'Fuck me…' Johnny muttered from the doorway. He looked to Derby, working out from everyone's positions that it had been he who had the knife. 'Shit, Derby… What the hell have you done?'

Derby turned his furious, terrified stare onto Johnny. 'It wasn't my fault!' he roared. 'It was that stupid little bastard! He came at me! He was… he was…' He trailed off, blinking. 'It was self defence!' he finished, lamely.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and the sound of splintering wood. Johnny looked around in alarm and tried to move forward, but blue, diamond printed arms grabbed him and dragged him backwards.

'You stinking pauper!' Tad Spencer's voice floated from inside the bedroom. 'You think you can degrade Derby like that? Well I know a thing or two about degradation, my friend!'

'The others are on the balcony!' Gord cried.

'Out here!' Bif commanded, and ran out of the doors. Only upon the sight before him he skidded to a halt, causing the following Preps to smash into his back. He didn't respond to them though, he just blinked stupidly at what he was seeing.

At the sight of his men, Derby stiffened up. 'Bif!' he cried, eyes huge and blazing. 'Get them! Beat them all down to the filthy squalor they crawled out of! Can you see what they did to me? Make them pay, Bif! Kill the bastards!'

But Bif didn't move. His eyes scanned the carnage on the balcony, the spots of blood on the ground and the shattered furniture. He stared at Petey's limp body and the pool of blood that was steadily growing around him. Finally he looked back to Derby, jaw set.

'What the hell are you waiting for?' Derby shrieked, face flooding purple. 'Get them! Finish them off! I order you!'

'He's getting away!' Tad yelled from inside, probably referring to Johnny who was making a sharp exit. When Tad didn't get a response from any of the other stunned Preps, he headed out onto the balcony. 'What on Earth is going on…?' He started, but then saw what everyone else was seeing. He stood, by Bif, and stared.

'Why are you all just staring, you imbeciles?' Derby screamed, the tendons protruding from his neck. 'I gave you a direct order! Kill these scumbags immediately! Can't you hear me? Do as I say or help me God I'll ruin all of you! I'll ruin every single last one of you!' He was trembling with rage, furious and confused to why his men just stared at him.

Whilst the other Preps looked shocked, Bif just looked calm. He turned his head to Tad and calmly said, 'Call an ambulance. And the police if they're not already here.'

Tad opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He cast one more brief, bewildered look at the balcony scene, and then scurried off inside. Derby stared incredulously at Bif, mouth hanging open.

'Is he alive?' Bif asked Jimmy in the same level voice, nodding to Petey.

Jimmy looked up. 'I… I don't know… I uh…' He just shrugged and shook his head, the shock overwhelming.

Bif moved forward, all eyes on him. Derby was frozen, staring in shock as his second in command continued to ignore his direct order. The large Prep knelt by Petey and felt his neck. 'He's alive.' he confirmed. 'Don't know for how much longer if an ambulance doesn't get here soon though.' He turned his head to the other Preps, who were watching with rapt fascination. 'Get some sheets and a blanket. It's no good moving him but he'll freeze if he stays out here like this.'

Derby blinked furiously. 'Tremblay!' he bellowed. 'What the fu-'

Bif stood up. 'Shut the hell up, Derby,' he scowled, jabbing a finger at his fallen leader. 'I'm sick and tired of cleaning up your bullshit. This is it. I'm not helping you anymore.'

Derby was stunned. 'But… but how… You…' He floundered for words, but failed to hold on to any.

'I knew about that sick deal with Vincent,' Bif snarled. 'I know it was your idea to send that poor kid down for that scumbag so you could keep going with your sordid little fucking arrangement the two of you had. Johnny was going to give himself in. I heard you both talking about it. It was you who said you would sort it out. Your idea to throw Pete under the wheels. Was it not bad enough that you ruined his fucking life like that? Now look what you've done to him!'

Derby's face had gone back to chalk white. 'How dare you speak to me like-'

'Look what you've done!' Bif yelled, pointing down at Petey.

Derby reluctantly looked down. He swallowed hard, probably fighting bile rising in his throat. Sweat sprinkled his forehead. Then his brow darkened again and he looked up. 'It was his own fault! He had it coming!' He turned his attention to everyone. 'You all have it coming! You think anything is going to happen to me after this? Do you know how good my father's lawyers are? They'll tear you to shreds! All of you! I'll ruin you all! I'll fucking ruin you all!'

Gary was up in a flash and he seized Derby by his throat, slamming him back against the rails. Derby let out a cry as his top half bent backwards over the edge, hanging over the dark abyss below. Gary squeezed hard on his throat, ignoring the yells of Jimmy and the Preppies behind him. He was going to kill Derby, and that was that. In the space between realising he had been crying and Bif turning on Derby, Gary realised for the first time why he had been doing all of this for Petey. It wasn't for kicks, it wasn't to get back at Jimmy or Monroe, or for anyone else. Gary always knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars, whether it be in prison or Happy Volts, he had accepted that. But Petey didn't share that fate. Petey was destined to go onto better things - have a normal life. Something Gary would never have.

Little Petey Kowalski. Femme-boy. The kid Gary had spent years trying to change - trying to turn him into a fighter, into a bastard like everyone else in Bullworth. He thought if he succeeded in changing Petey it would make him into a better person, but the fact was that Pete was already a better person. He was a better person than any of these bastards could ever hope to be. Better than Gary could ever hope to be. And the truth was that Gary had wanted to be like Pete. He wanted to be normal, he just never allowed himself to believe it. But now because of this rich scumbag Pete would never have a normal life. That harsh fact crushed something inside of Gary. It crushed his hope.

'Gary, no!' Jimmy yelled, but it was fruitless.

Gary stared into Derby's terrified eyes and grinned. 'Try ruining everyone with a snapped spine, trust fund baby.'

Derby's eyes widened and he tried to grapple with Gary, but couldn't keep a grip on him. Gary shoved him back hard and Derby toppled over the rails. His hand remained entangled in Gary's sweater and as he tumbled over the side, he dragged Gary over the edge with him. The pair of them went over the railing, tumbling down five stories to the solid ground below.