It was 8:05 a.m.
No one at the high school who saw Ivaleigh and Lailea could keep from staring, either unabashedly or by sneaking long glances, the whispers flying.
People really do love to talk.
Ivaleigh was intent on attending every class for the day (mere hours after the trailers had been raided), starting in on the process of playing catch-up; Lailea, not wanting her sister to be out of her proximity (for as on edge as they both still were), had been granted permission to sit and watch and get to know some of the teachers.
Come Saturday afternoon, she, a lawyer by the name of Drake Barrett, an adoption agency worker named Lisa Collins, and Caitríona would be sitting down to discuss Diamond's future.
Davey Jaworski took one look at Lailea and felt his heart do a small cartwheel; she was easily one of the loveliest girls he had ever seen, even with the black eye.
His infatuation got an airtime of less than a minute: He could look all he wanted, but don't touch. Upon hearing him introduce himself to Lailea in a less than gentleman-like fashion, Ivaleigh gave him a shove (nearly sending him sprawling) and a caustic snarl of, "My sister's been through enough bullshit, she don't need the likes of you, cozyin' up while you're layin' alla your so-called lady-killer ways on every other chick that catches your eye!"
"I – "
"Get lost, Jaworski!"
Davey sulked, and glared towards Michael and Rafael, who shrugged in answer. "Best not to push your luck, amigo. Ivaleigh's not foolin', they've been to hell and back."
"Yeah, well, I could – "
"You could what?" Lailea asked, with an edge of vitriol, while the Pink Ladies came to a stop just beside them. "What's it you think ya could do for me? Aside from paradin' me 'round like I'm a trophy of some kind? Or tryin' t' convince me there's nothing better than a date with a Bird? Yes, Ivy told me all 'bout you. You looked at my face, ya didn't even bother askin' what happened, or how I'm feelin'. The first from your mouth was Hey, let's go on an' play seven minutes in heaven at the drive-in. Screw that!"
A thought danced across Stephanie's attention, there and gone – She could be a Lady ...
"That ain't what I said!" Davey answered loudly.
"It's what ya meant, though, right? Get the picture, shorty, women don't like havin' games played with them!"
Davey clamped his mouth shut, and Lailea turned her back on him to introduce herself to the Pink Ladies, and Sharon questioned, "Can we asked what the hell happened?"
"Sometime. I ain't got the energy for explainin' right now."
Johnny, ignoring Ivaleigh and Lailea completely, demanded of Michael, "Where's the jacket?", while Louis and Goose stared at Lailea, as if they were trying to decide what to make of her.
"Eyes elsewhere, you two." Michael ordered them, with a bite of impatience, before looking back at Johnny. "It's in my locker, John. Why?"
Johnny smirked coldly, victoriously. "You only worn it six times," – he held up five fingers, " – in the last four days. That's floutin' T-Bird codes. It's to be on at all times."
"You forgot a finger, John." Michael offered casually.
Johnny took the bait eagerly enough, showing his middle finger, and Michael pressed his mouth in an amused line, looking towards Stephanie. "I asked for that, didn't I?"
Stephanie smirked. "A blind cat in Barstow saw it coming."
"You think this shit's funny?!" Johnny raged, lowering his hand, his nostrils flaring. "The T-Birds got a rep to protect, Shakespeare, and you're ruinin' it! You ain't no leader."
"I didn't ask to be." Michael looked over at Stephanie again (his heart sighing in relief and frustration – the motorcycle was coming along nicely, but every day was a little harder, being near her and having to hold his tongue). "Am I required to wear the jacket at all times?"
"If you wanna get orders across, yeah."
"You're assuming these three would actually listen to any edict I might give?"
"Ya know what, why don't ya talk normal for once?! Cut the crap with all the big-ass, ten-dollar words!"
Michael almost smiled, his expression just one side of daring. "Well, I do have a few small words for you, John. Would you like to hear them?"
Ivaleigh and Lailea both snorted, giggling, while Rafael grinned (Michael quietly thrilled to the amused, somewhat impressed look on Stephanie's face).
"All right, that's enough trash talk." Sharon was trying plainly not to laugh herself. "We need to get to class. Shakespeare, you may as well take the jacket with, it's the only way he'll leave you alone on it."
Paulette was staring at Stephanie, her expression pleading, wounded, exasperated. Stephanie ignored her, still mad as hell (and saddened) and nowhere near ready to make nice.
At 8:15, as everyone was getting to their seats in every room, Principal McGee went on the PA system (once again, Blanche hammered noisily at the chimes) and informed the students of the date of the Winter Formal (December 21st), while the last day of classes before winter break was December 20th, with school resuming on Monday, January 2nd.
"For those of you who have taken your SATs, the results will be in on Thursday, December fifteenth. Come by the main office to pick up your scores."
Elena, Julio, Enrique, Daniela, and Sofia were also in classes for the day, and a few scenes took place following the end of first period.
For starters, Rafael ran off with the white and yellow Mariposa lilies from the nurse's office, got down on one knee with them in hand, and asked a laughing Ivaleigh if she would be his date to the dance. Goose and Louis, meanwhile, hammed it up for Rhonda and Sharon, performing a mostly improv skit about two lonely bachelors needing dates for "a very specialized occasion".
"Louis, get your face outta my stomach."
Goose, on the other hand, got so into the act that he accidentally smacked Rhonda in the face with her locker door. Her eyes watering, her nose throbbing painfully, Rhonda glared at him (he certainly looked sheepish and guilty), and Stephanie remarked flippantly, "Hey, good, ya finally got your nose job!"
"Oh, shut it!"
"Hey, Zinone, Paulette's takin' me, who's your date for the dance?"
Stephanie turned her back on the both of them –
"C'mon, Steph, you have to start talking to us sometime!"
Stephanie looked at Sharon purposefully (as Louis stood up, as Rhonda began giving Goose a mild verbal lashing), saying forcefully, "If I go, it'll probably be alone."
"Take Carrington." Sharon replied (Johnny stiffened, his eyes darkening, glinting coldly). "He's probably the least painful option – Hey, Shakespeare!" she yelled across the crowded, noisy hall, before quickly weaving her way closer, the other Ladies and the T-Birds right on her heels. "Stephanie needs herself a date for the winter dance, you interested?"
"Sharon ... " Stephanie began warningly, with narrowed eyes.
Six ways from Sunday. "Thank you for the consideration, Sharon, really. But I'll be in Oceanside by then, I won't be back until the twenty-sixth."
"Cream puff probably can't dance, anyhow." Johnny derided, smirking.
"I suppose you wish that was true."
Johnny's lip curled. "I ain't talkin' about some ... Waltzing Matilda bullshit, I'm talkin' about movin' to actual rhythm. Not standin' there lookin' like you chokin' the chicken."
Goose, Louis, and Davey each snorted with laughter, and Stephanie muttered softly under her breath, retorting with, "Or in your case, the peanut, you lousy sack of ..."
Michael gave Johnny one of his infamously tolerating looks, answering, "Waltzing Matilda isn't a dance, John, it's an Australian song, involving a sheep thief who ends up haunting a watering hole."
"Thought it was British?" Rhonda managed, still massaging her aching nose, while Johnny sneered, his fists clenched. Michael ignored him, giving Rhonda a slight smile. "The tune is, it's a march arranged from an adaptation of 'The Bold Fusilier', from the eighteenth cent – "
"BOOORRRRINNNG!"
"So the Aussies stole from the Brits, hmm." Rhonda commented, after a short, tense silence, in which Michael (and Stephanie) continued ignoring Johnny.
"Something like that. But you of anyone must surely know, music is universal."
Rhonda smirked.
"And what the hell is a fusilier?" Sharon asked.
"The term was used for an infantry soldier with a flintlock musket. They could be found in Germany, Brazil, and the UK, among other countries."
Michael bit his tongue there, before he went rambling and bored them each stupid with facts and linguistics.
"You know way too much shit." Louis said (battling back the notion of being impressed), and Michael shrugged lightly, unapologetic. "I'm gonna be callin' you Encyclopedia Britannica from now on."
"If you're going to, I suppose I can't stop you. Just don't expect me to answer."
A little ways down the hall, Elena and Daniela were vacillating (once again) between flinging Sofia, Julio, and Rafael each looks of sneering indifference, and cold-shouldering them, while Enrique kept his head down (not knowing what else to do, even as he sneaked pained glances towards Julio), still shocked and nauseated by the sight of Ivaleigh's and Lailea's faces (Julio himself had gaped for a full five minutes, after hearing everything from Ivaleigh and Rafael).
When asked by Clara and Montrell during that ten minutes between first and second period, Lailea and Ivaleigh wasted no time in telling anyone within hearing distance exactly what had happened, both during and after. The only parts they left out, through carefully chosen statements, were about the reefer and the money.
"You two will sell any bullshit to make yourselves look good, won't you?" Elena derided loudly, twitching and fighting to ignore the crowd gathered around them, the many eyes that were staring in shock and disgust, while Sofia hid behind Rafael to get out of the line of Daniela's icy, accusing stare. "Our parents were trying to protect us! Just because yours never gave a damn doesn't mean the rest of them think that way. It would have been all right if – "
"If Sofia an' Rafe didn't have a conscience or a backbone? What if you or Daniela had been the victim, Elena?" Ivaleigh demanded, her eyes open wide and blazing. "How'd ya feel if the shoe was on the other foot?"
"I would never put myself in that situation!" Elena shouted, her arms folded tight (almost as if she were holding herself together).
"What woman does?" Stephanie, Lucy, and Sharon, as well as a number of others, all yelled back at the same time, in varying forms and swear words, with Rhonda adding, "Wow, you don't understand anything, do you?"
"You have no idea." Lailea answered, giving Rhonda a meaningful glance that spoke volumes. "She's too busy feelin' sorry for herself."
"So, in other words, I deserved what happened to me, is that what you're saying?" Clara demanded shrilly, while Montrell glared from beside her, frowning deeply.
"Think careful on how ya answer that one, Elena, I got no qualms for knockin' your lights out." Ivaleigh promised in a dangerous tone of voice; Rafael laid a careful hand on her shoulder. "Don't, cariño, she's not worth it."
"Why would they wanna help Guillermo, anyway?" Sharon asked, but no one answered, save for a Stay out of it look from Rafael.
"Cos they're all a lot of liars." Ivaleigh swore.
"And you're not?" Elena demanded shrilly.
Sofia stepped in, her chin raised. "Save your self-serving crap for someone who's stupidly interested, Elena. Ivaleigh never went out of her way to protect a monster."
The warning bell rang for the second period, and the few teachers that had been watching the exchanges began forcefully directing everybody of the audience towards their classes, "Get going or it's detention!"
"Sofia, you – "
"Leave me alone, Elena."
Just before lunch, Genevieve and Logan came dancing their way into the halls at Rydell High, dressed up like a power couple, to draw attention; not that their (stylish) outfits needed much help, for as willowy and lovely as Genevieve was, tall, flame-haired, and indigo-eyed, with her soft French accent; and certainly not for the style in which the silvery-eyed Logan kept her white-blonde hair, short and spiked all over, with a single violet stud in her right ear.
Everyone began falling silent as they passed, the whispers already racing about Genevieve's exquisite good looks, and Logan's appearance.
"Are you a man, or a chick?" one senior girl called out with derision (getting Michael's attention), taking (an offensive) note of the men's dress shirt, pants, and tie that Logan was wearing (Elena looked over as well, and sneered, confused, startled, and still defiant).
"I'm a chick who will fuck you like a man." Logan offered lazily, blowing a kiss in the girl's direction (resulting in the brunette flushing in deep embarrassment, while Elena's jaw dropped), before Genevieve took a hold of her arm, steering her closer towards Michael, who smirked at them, with relief.
"Always loving the entrance, the pair of you." he teased lightly, stepping forward to meet his sister halfway.
"Ever the best part, mon ami." Logan smirked deviously.
Genevieve gave her brother a tight hug, and Logan shook his hand, before Genevieve looked him up and down, taking in the T-Bird jacket that Michael was wearing; she arched one fine red eyebrow at him.
"I'll tell you about it over lunch. There are other matters that need – "
"Hey, Shakespeare, ain't ya gonna introduce us?"
Michael just barely refrained from rolling his eyes in exasperation at the eagerness of Davey's tone. "Genevieve, Logan, the girls you see there are the Pink Ladies ... Stephanie, Sharon, Rhonda, and Paulette. The four beside them are the T-Birds. All of you, this lady is my sister, Genevieve Valois, and this lady is her girlfriend, Logan Gautier."
Genevieve and Logan both gave Stephanie a once over – Michael certainly hadn't been kidding, the girl was beautiful.
"Girlfriend?" Johnny's eyebrows were arched high (some wild fantasies already forming).
"Logan?" Louis demanded.
"There's no need to concern yourself with what my sister does, John, it's none of your business."
Logan blinked at Louis, poker-faced. "Yes?"
Ivaleigh and Lailea appeared at Michael's elbow, eager, and Genevieve's mouth fell open for a moment at the sight of Lailea's black eye.
"Genevieve, Logan, meet Ivaleigh and Lailea."
"Pleasure, ladies." Genevieve smiled, her eyes hardening as they traced over the sisters' wounds.
"Michael's Aunt Paula filled us both in on everything that's happened, involving both your mother and this Guillermo Jimenez. We've also spoken with Aunt Cait. Lailea, self-defense lessons begin first thing Saturday morning. Ivaleigh, we'd like for you to join us." Logan said, in a clipped tone. "Miss Zinone, I know you were asking after lessons, but I feel it appropriate to see to Lailea first. Perhaps, come January?"
Stephanie nodded. "Deal."
"I also personally wouldn't mind two minutes alone with Guillermo. I could easily make him weep like a little bitch." Logan continued, and Lailea and Ivaleigh grinned with appreciation.
"Sunday would be better for the first round, I got a meetin' with a – well, just an important appointment I can't back out of." Lailea explained, taking a deep breath in and out, her eyes sparkling; Ivaleigh laid a supportive hand on her shoulder.
Genevieve answered, "Fair enough. Good grief, I love your accents."
"Thanks ... Lailea, are you havin' second thoughts 'bout Diamond?"
"Yes. But I know that I can't."
"Who's Diamond? Your girlfriend?" Johnny derided, sneering.
"Shove it!" Genevieve barked, while Logan cussed at him in French, "Va te faire foutre, fraction sans vigne d'un abruti pompeux, autoritaire et imbécile."
"And who is she, there, that keeps staring at my girl?" Genevieve asked, almost testily, before Johnny could demand, "What?"
Ivaleigh glanced over, then answered icily, dismissively, "That's Elena."
"Hey, Shanks-speare, you talk French – "
Michael moved, getting in Johnny's face, his eyes sparking, his tone a soft, biting growl of anger. "It's Shakespeare, say it right, or don't say anything, John, and don't you dare insult where I come from. Good God, it really is no wonder that Stephanie turned you out. Your lack of respect for everyone is staggering." He turned away without waiting for an answer.
Johnny took a step closer to start bellowing retorts and profanities, and Genevieve slapped a hand over his mouth, hissing, "For once in your immature little life, shut it! Because that's my brother, and if you think Bastian is a handful, just try dealing with me, petit connard." She swung away, ignoring his expression, her hair nearly smacking him across the face.
Logan went ahead with, "Ah, yes. Elena. The very confused chiquita. Paula mentioned her, as well, the hand she's dealt in some of what's happened." She arched her eyebrows, smirking at Genevieve wickedly. "Think she'd mind if we played with her?"
Ivaleigh snorted. "If ya can get her t' stop shriekin' long enough."
Genevieve and Logan made up their minds, and "kidnapped" Elena not ten minutes later, with Rafael's aiding and abetting.
Julio, meanwhile, slipped off of the school campus, hunted down the nearest payphone (two blocks away), and made a call to "The Curators", quickly (and in Spanish) informing them on everything that had happened, from Ivaleigh to Guillermo and back again.
"You got some pair of jones on you, boy."
"Right, thanks, come at night, if you wanna raid all the greenhouses. Go careful, the neighbors on Pilar and Juan's road like to peek."
Later in the day, in the boy's locker room just after the end of gym class, Johnny attempted to tackle Michael from behind, while Goose, Louis, and Davey each looked on, anticipating and wildly apprehensive; neither of them had thought it was a good idea, given what had happened the last few times, but Johnny was so bent on it that there had been no arguing with him, even with his jacket and schooling on the line.
The whole episode didn't last much longer than the first two go-rounds.
Johnny got one punch in (amid the protesting shouts and cheering yells of the other boys present), successfully (satisfyingly) bloodying Michael's lower lip, before Michael was able to shove him away with an elbow to the gut, silent, every nerve on high alert, his eyes open wide and burning.
Johnny launched himself forward, roaring like an enraged bull, just as Coach Calhoun walked in to see what all the noise was about, and Michael ducked the well-aimed swing, crouching low, grabbing a hold of Johnny's leg with both hands and yanking it out from under him.
Johnny landed flat on his back, the air surging away from his lungs in a choking gasp; his head smacked sharply against the carpeted floor, stars exploding across his vision, his stomach twisting in painful nausea. He closed his eyes, breathing in short, sharp gasps.
Holy Christ!
The answering silence descended faster than the extinguishing of a candle's flame.
"Did you see that?" someone whispered, half in awe, half in fear.
Louis and Goose each lurched forward half a step to pull Johnny back onto his feet, and Calhoun snapped, "Leave him! Let him catch his breath. He's going to need it after this."
Michael stared at Johnny for a moment, then shut his gym locker door and walked rigidly away towards the sinks to clean his mouth off.
Eugene Fitzherbert and Bruce Sanders stared, their mouths hanging open wide – How can anyone possibly call him a nerd?
Johnny opened his eyes, his vision swimming, the air burning in his chest, and Bruce yelled, "What is wrong with you?! That you haven't had enough?! He's already kicked your hide once, you honestly went back for seconds?"
"Actually, thirds." Eugene spoke up cautiously, his eyes huge behind his glasses, as though he couldn't believe his own shaking nerve. "I was hiding out in one of the bathroom stalls the day Nogerelli broke a mirror trying to knock Michael around. From what I heard it didn't end well for the jerk then, either."
Dazed and in pain, humiliated and enraged, Johnny hissed with what rattling breath he had, "And why was you in the bathroom, you waste-of-space four-eyed freak?! Cryin' like a little bitch cos – "
"You the bitch, Nogerelli." Matt Decker cut in loudly, harshly, a single, gloating laugh caught in his throat. "More accurately, Carrington's bitch. Ya know, the head T-Bird?"
"You really need to get a grip, Nogerelli." another senior, Curtis Gordon, said sagely. "Before even these three decide you ain't worth knowin'."
"He ain't wrong, man." Warren Pritchard added. "My old man's been tellin' me, if we say high school is our best time, we're just fuckin' ourselves over."
"Why do you hate Michael so much, anyway?" Eugene demanded, his voice loud and thin. "What, just cos he opened the wrong locker door?"
Johnny wanted to retort cruelly (he felt as through his head might explode from the (draining) rage and hate and pain), but Coach Calhoun was telling him to shut up, stooping a little to help him onto his shaking feet; he led Johnny away to his office (doing some fast thinking), with Louis, Goose, and Davey trailing behind, each of them wisely saying nothing.
"Close the door, DiMucci. Sit down, Nogerelli." Calhoun seated himself, all business.
"Look, I – "
"Shut the hell up." Calhoun barked, loud and sharp. "And listen." The door opened behind Johnny, then closed. "Yes, Carrington?"
"My curiosity is running rampant, sir. I'd like to listen in to whatever this may be."
"That's fine." Calhoun looked back at Johnny, an almost smug smirk twisting his mouth. "I'm about to save your ass, boy. So shut up and listen."
"Heard you got your ass kicked at school today. And everything that came after. I'm glad for it. I'll be making Coach Calhoun some honeysuckle pineapple, you can take it to him on Monday." This was all Andrianna said about this latest issue.
By 8:35 that evening, Elena was crying her eyes out, unloading every fear, every nuisance, every heartbreak all over Genevieve and Logan, who only listened, determined to make her understand that there was nothing wrong with her.
There had been no sex, just plenty of words exchanged, calmly and firmly on one side, hysterically on the other. Having agreed that she would be staying with them in their hotel suite, for the sake of her own sanity, Elena went to school the next day, subdued and contemplative.
For all of Friday, the questions and rumors about the locker room brawl swirled.
"Johnny Nogerelli swears you cheated in the fight." purred one blonde, blue-eyed junior (Mattie Lockley), her curiosity and attraction blatantly obvious, as she laid a hand on Michael's arm.
Michael shrugged, giving her a smile of benign disinterest, wishing that those were Stephanie's eyes on him, feeling something tighten to the point of pain around his rib cage (Why won't she look at me like that?). "If that's what he wants to tell everyone, I suppose. I have more important things to worry about. Excuse me, please, I need to get to Economics."
What if the motorcycle isn't enough?
Mattie stared after him, disappointed. In the Economics room, Michael sat down behind Stephanie, who twisted in her seat to peer sharply at him, her gaze touching to cut on his lip. She wasn't able to say anything, though, before Paulette snapped, "You couldn't just let him get it all out?"
Michael arched his eyebrows at her in irritated disbelief (so did Rhonda, Sharon, and Stephanie). "I told him before, I would defend myself if needs be."
"Yeah, and now he has to play on the baseball team or he'll be suspended for three weeks! He hates sports!"
"Coach Calhoun gave him the choice, Paulette, he didn't have to say yes. I'm assuming he wants to graduate and leave, like a number of seniors here."
"He told me that you said if he didn't go through with it, playing baseball, that you'd kick him out of the T-Birds!"
Now Stephanie did look impressed (Michael breathed a little easier), while Sharon whistled, while Rhonda smirked.
"Johnny didn't have to say yes to that, either, Paulette. But graduating and keeping his jacket seems to be a big deal to him. He had plenty of other words for me, if it makes you feel any better."
"Everyone, pay attention, now!" Mr. Wellesley barked, looking tired. "Class's started. Today we will be covering some of the material for the upcoming mid-terms, so take notes!"
Paulette couldn't contain herself. "I can't believe you did that to him!"
"Jesus, give it a rest, Paulette! The only one that's wrecked Johnny is himself!" Stephanie snapped, flinging a cold, harsh look in her direction before facing forward again.
After school, Benita managed to get a hold of Rafael at the foster home and told him to bring $10,000 needed for all of them to make bail.
Rafael told her what had become of all the money, listened for the first (dead silent) five seconds of her blank, numbed shock, then informed her that he was headed out with Ivaleigh for the evening, and hung up.
After school, Johnny, Louis, Davey, and Goose went over into South Central Los Angeles; there was a street party going along a block of Florence Ave, and it wasn't long before Goose, Davey, and Louis were flirting with some of the girls there, dancing, having a few drinks, playing rounds of Poker, and generally just having a fun Friday night.
To his delighted incredulity, Davey even managed to gain the attention a girl, Rio Cortez, and after a few hours in each other's company, she agreed to be his date to the Winter Formal – Goose joked that she'd said yes only because she was shorter than Davey was, standing at five-foot-three.
"I don't give a damn how tall she is or isn't, she likes me, that's enough!"
Johnny, meanwhile, allowed himself to, once again, become thoroughly inebriated.
He knew, even as he was throwing down the three-quarters of a bottle of Jack Daniel's Black Label (and the Jello shots), that his parents would very probably kick him out, and that he'd have to lie to Paulette about it, but he'd take anything at the moment to forget that Carrington seemed to be beating him at every turn.
And now he had to play baseball for the next semester, just to be able to graduate.
The coolest ... the most bad-ass ...
Johnny's head was spinning. Or was it the wheels of a motorcycle?
Cycle ... good idea ...
How long before he puts the moves on her?
How long before she says yes?
He wanted to vomit –
Something roared ...
– to strangle Carrington –
Am I moving ... movin' ... movin' on up ... look, Ma, no hands ...
– to make Zinone stand in front of him so he could scream ... scream ...
Who's screaming?