Davey's first day back at Rydell High saw him giving it everything he had, but he ended up going home at the start of lunch, too sore and exhausted and sick already of the whispers and the pitying looks at his face, at the cast on his leg and on his wrist (both of which already bore messages that were goofy or kind or smart-assed), at the small electric wheelchair that he had to maneuver around in (a mercy, that he hadn't run into any doorways yet).
Upon Principal McGee's permission to leave, Michael did him a favor (with Louis's help), and hog-tied Davey's wheelchair to the bed of his truck; making sure that Davey was secured into said wheelchair, Michael drove him home, purposefully swerving hard around some of the street corners, to give him a needed thrill (a lucky thing, that there were no cops around).
Louis joined in on the fun, whooping and hollering, and it earned the two of them a short but livid verbal lashing from Abel Jaworski over the phone later that evening, with Davey yelling in the background each time, "Dad, I had fun!"
Stephanie was talking to Paulette again, albeit haltingly, but Paulette would take whatever she could get. She hadn't seen Johnny since that hour or so in the hospital – he wouldn't be back to school until Monday, the 12th – and her mother wasn't budging, no matter the arguments, refusing to reconsider her edict about Paulette not dating Johnny. Paulette was also still having to take tutoring sessions with Michael, and those weren't going too well, given her attitude, and the fact that Ivaleigh and Montrell had too many other matters going on to help much anymore.
Goose filled them all in on Johnny's punishment before English Lit started that day, while shooting hot, defiant glares in Michael's direction (Ivaleigh, Rafael, and Lailea were standing beside him, finally having been caught up on everything that had happened, after quietly filling the stunned-silent Michael and Rafael in on Gertrude's side of the story). And everyone who could get close enough to listen in, did.
"What are your reasons behind the looks, McKenzie?" Michael asked, standing beside Stephanie (inhaling her perfume greedily when he could be a sneak about it), his T-Bird jacket on (and he was self-consciously aware of the attention it was still drawing from other girls, Can't they see I'm Stephanie's?, the cycle was coming along nicely). Frenchy had mentioned combing his hair in a pompadour style, but Michael had refused, stating that a slightly messy short comb over was good enough.
"Some of this shit's on you." Goose defended stubbornly. "Paulette's right on that, if you'd just let Johnny get it out, Davey wouldn't be in this mess. You don't deserve that jacket. As for Johnny never bein' leader again, me and DiMucci are puttin' in formal informal protests – "
"Goose ... " Rhonda began with exasperation.
"Um ...?" Davey scrunched his expression in Goose's direction.
"Tell me somethin', Goosey, does it hurt when ya bend t' kiss Johnny's ass like that?" Ivaleigh questioned casually.
Stephanie, Sharon, and Lailea (whose black eye was finally fading away) bit back snorts of laughter (Rhonda pressed her lips to keep from giggling), as the warning bell rang.
"There ain't no ass-kissin', 'cept when Carrington's playin' teacher's pet, it's the truth!" Goose shouted. "And don't call me Goosey!"
Ivaleigh merely smirked at him.
Michael arched his eyebrows. "Maybe it is a little on me, what's happened, and maybe it isn't. But let me ask you this, McKenzie: What if I had 'let him get it out', and he went and got sozzled anyway, to celebrate? Stole Bud McLaughlin's motorcycle anyway, to celebrate? Crashed it into the crowd, and Davey? And even if none of that had happened, how do you think things would be for Johnny right now, if what happened in the locker room had gone the way he had wanted it to? What troubles do you suppose he would be facing, from school, his parents, and possibly the police? Because you know you can't say you could lie for him. Not with so many other witnesses. And certainly not with his reputation."
Stephanie felt her insides give a small, funny squirm, watching him lay it all out – Is there anything he doesn't think of?
And her thoughts skittered away with themselves.
... never such a T-Bird walkin' these halls ...
She wanted to laugh at the thought.
She was, had been, impressed by him, repeatedly. She could admit that. And he was handsome. That, she could admit, too. Some darker area of her mind asked on the possibility that she was drawn to him, but she fought it off, arguing that being impressed and his good looks didn't (shouldn't – can't – won't) mean that she was attracted.
That's how Johnny and I started.
She still wanted the motorcycle and the leather and the wild freedom.
Besides that, beyond his occasionally teasing her, he didn't seem interested.
Although there had been those times when she'd caught him looking at her, his expression puzzled, as though she was some enigma he couldn't work out. Other times, his gaze seemed steady, leaving her with the notion that he was inviting her to ask anything of him.
On the other hand, he was just. So. Serious. Restrained.
No ... not ... he goes situation by situation ...
She still couldn't picture him on a motorcycle. Drinking –
Not a bad thing, look where it landed Johnny
Cussing up a storm the way she liked to –
He don't need to, he don't have a problem gettin' a point across –
So, then ... What?
"DiMucci, back me up!" Goose demanded loudly, yanking Stephanie's attention back to the scene before her; she shook her head a little, pushing the thoughts away angrily.
Louis looked a little at a loss. "I mean, you may be right ... but so's Shakespeare – "
"So you're sidin' with this nerd?!" Goose demanded, his eyes wide and squinting.
"I ... no ... but he ain't wrong ... Johnny's my friend, too, but it was a dumb thing he did Friday night. And Davey." Louis gestured uncertainly.
"Take it up with Zuko, Goose, if you don't like it." Stephanie cut in, her tone biting, harsh (she refused to wonder on how much of that was from her confusion about Carrington and how much of it was from her irritation with Goose's idolizing Johnny). "Johnny's been outta control. You wanna be his friend, that's your decision. Leave the rest of us outta it. He made his choices, he's gonna have to own up for them."
She looked over at Paulette, who was frowning at her a little, as all of them began heading towards their classes. "Guess you're gonna find a way to sneak on with him?"
Paulette almost beamed, cautious. "Count on it."
"You gonna be the one to break it to him, that Danny said Carrington stays leader, no matter what?"
Paulette nodded. "Probably not for a few days." She looked over at Michael imploringly. "But you'll keep your promise, for making him second-in-command?"
"If he's willing, yes. If not, there's nothing I can do." Michael reminded her, almost impatiently, for the twelfth time. "But I do wish you'd stop toting the line that I owe him something, Paulette."
"I ... it's just ... I know him well enough to know that he's gonna want to take his anger out on someone, and – "
Michael rocked to a stop, a blaze of irritation shining in his eyes. "I don't think anyone here is going to tolerate another of Johnny's tantrums, Paulette."
The words spoke volumes: This was Johnny's last chance to graduate on time, with all of his teeth intact.
It wouldn't even have to be Michael.
Paulette's eyes widened a little at the implications, a pleading, slightly frightened glint forming, while Louis and Davey exchanged glances.
"Hey – !"
"Back off, McKenzie." Ivaleigh snapped, firmly planting herself between the two of them, pushing him off-course before looking over at Paulette. "An' go calm yourself, Marilyn. It's if, let us hope Nogerelli ain't gonna go do more stupid shit than he already has."
Goose just about ignored her, flaring at Michael. "Carrington, you asshole, you ain't got no right to threaten him, just cos Zuko said you're in charge!"
"But I do have the right to defend myself, just like anyone else here." The words were calm, almost cold.
"Give it a rest, Goose." Rhonda interrupted, with exasperation, gripping his hand when Goose opened his mouth to argue further. "C'mon, we've got class."
"Yeah, mid-terms are on our asses." Sharon added, a cigarette in hand, a sign of her own agitation for the upcoming finals. More lately, she'd been a whirlwind of smoke and papers, for schoolwork, for the talent show, and for college applications. "We need to focus."
Louis was getting frustrated, that her answer to his one request was still "No."
Later, after school, was when Bastian came to deliver the news of Gertrude's death to Lailea and Ivaleigh (Caitríona was at the hospital with the Millers, doing the same). Standing there with them under the cold drizzle, Michael could only stare, not necessarily lost for words but wisely keeping quiet.
Lailea had to sit down, collapsing onto the rain-wet grass by the school steps, a fist pressed lightly to her mouth while she stared ahead with narrowed eyes, her emotions taut and stuck in her chest, while a massive weight lifted itself away from her mind, her very bones.
This is what floatin' feels like.
Ivaleigh exhaled in small, confused, relieved, delighted, heartbroken gasps, a tiny smile catching her mouth.
Noticing the scene, Rafael hurried over, with Sofia right behind him, avoiding Daniela, who was currently in the middle of a quiet shouting match with Elena. "What's happened now?" he asked of the four of them, paying Lailea a brief stare, laying a protective arm around Ivaleigh's shoulder.
"Gertrude Miller was found dead in her cell this morning. Someone strangled her with a belt."
Sofia gasped, while Rafael blinked, his jaw dropping a little, his mind instantly spinning with questions.
"The one guard who saw anything said it was a woman. Tanned, heavy with long dark hair. The guard got a little more graphic, I won't go into it, and his boss told him to sit down and shut up, that he was being stupid and an ass over the lady rejecting his flirting. The name signed into the visitor log was, get this: Ella Holiday."
"Who's Ella Holiday?" Sofia asked, dumbly.
"Ella Holiday is Billie Holiday an' Ella Fitzgerald put t'gether, they're blues an' jazz singers ... " Ivaleigh replied slowly, her eyes burning, her head tilting lightly to one side, her expression bewildered, before another thought occurred. "So ... whoever she is, she probably ain't tan s'much as she's black."
"Maybe a mother of one of those girls?" Lailea nearly whispered, standing slowly, shivering, fighting a mad desire to start laughing (or crying) hysterically.
"Maybe. That'd be somethin' ... but how would this lady've known where t' find her?"
Lailea gazed back at her sister, both of them shaking their heads a little, their minds, for the moment, too tired to care about any answers to that question.
"Do the cops need Lailea and Ivaleigh for more?" Rafael asked, a hard edge to his voice.
"For statements about last night's argument, yes. That'll be it." Bastian assured.
Lailea moved, stepping close to look her would-be lover in the eye. "What's this mean, with her dead?"
"What, besides our lives gettin' a whole helluva lot less complicated?" Ivaleigh couldn't quite stop the wide, relieved grin from forming.
Lailea gripped Bastian's hand, and he shook his head with resolve. "You know we can't." He met her gaze solidly, unbreaking in the resolve. "I think about you. But, no. It wouldn't be for the right reasons. And can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you want to?"
She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."
He gave her a small smirk, letting the fingers of his free hand graze over her hair, down one side of her face. "Stubborn girl. Let's talk about this later." Giving her cheek a kiss, he added, "C'mon. Logan and Genevieve have got your boxing gloves waiting. We can talk about the next step to make when we get to the gym."
Gwyneth, Stanton, and Leonard, meanwhile, vacillated between tears of joy and tears of searing, blinding, guilt-wrecked heartbreak.
Gertrude Miller – not Ambrosia Lynn Storm, but Gertrude, who had been sweet and stubborn, naïve and in love – had died years ago, of course.
Let our daughter rest easy?
Ivaleigh, Lailea, Bastian, and Caitríona spent the weekend making plans for a six-day sojourner in Hattiesburg, with Diamond, Gwyneth, and Stanton in tow; everyone but Gwyneth and Stanton would be leaving on the 26th and returning on January 1st. The trip was mostly to do with paperwork and formalities, such as relocating the two maids and the butler to different jobs, getting the house on the market, seeing if there was a last will registered, and so on.
Leonard had asked to be in charge of Gertrude's funeral plans, and by Monday had already made the arrangements to have her body shipped to Long Island, following the autopsy; he and his parents would be flying back with her, and were hoping to see her laid to rest no later than the 22nd, before Gwyneth and Stanton joined their granddaughters in Mississippi.
Ivaleigh and Lailea had declined to join them in Long Island for the funeral; while they empathized with Gertrude's suffering, they couldn't forget the things that Ambrosia Lynn had done.
It's over now. Either way, it's over.
Johnny was quiet, coming back on the 12th; he stayed closer to Paulette during and between their classes, and said little, beyond the occasional cracking of jokes. Like Davey, he quickly became sick of the looks and whispers.
He also couldn't quite meet Davey's eyes, beyond that first wrenching apology (a singular "Sorry.", because, honestly, he didn't know what else to say), and left Stephanie alone all-together. The thought lingered at the back of his mind, that he owed her a great deal, but there was no putting any of it into words.
That first week of complete sobriety had been utterly merciless. It had been on the third and fourth days that the withdrawal had been at its worst, with the vomiting, the headaches, the sweating and shaking, the confusion and pounding heartbeats; he felt a small bit steadier now, and Andrianna had him drinking dandelion tea, and taking a sedative once a day, which was helping with the anxiety.
In the one AA meeting, and in the one anger management session so far, he'd had very little to say. So far.
The one iota of trouble, for today, reared its head in the first few minuets of the lunch hour, with one of the heavier basketball jocks tripping him up, sending him sprawling, sending his tray of food flying, some of it spilling on Paulette. The whole cafeteria fell silent, watching, waiting.
Fuck, two seconds that lasted, Stephanie thought, frowning. Jesus, Johnny, for once in your life, SHOW SOME GODDAMNED COMMON SENSE!
Johnny was back on his feet in a flash, the rage screaming up and down his spine while he whirled to face his attacker. Mr. Basketball was already waiting for him, a cold sneer in place while he taunted, "How'd ya like it, you little prick? Go on and hit me with your best shot, we goin' man to man."
Goose and Louis were at Johnny's side in an instant. "You want somethin'?" Goose barked, fists clenched.
Michael got in the way, laying one hand on the jock's chest, pushing him back two steps before turning towards Goose. "Stop."
Goose opened his mouth, and Michael cut him off with, "Enough. Johnny ... " He gestured towards Paulette, frozen with food in her hair, staring at Johnny, her eyes begging, pleading. " ... go help Paulette clean up?"
Paulette gripped Johnny's arm with both hands, pressing red kisses to his cheek and mouth, ignoring Delores's arched eyebrows, smiling coyly, fluttering her lashes. "Come and get me, you big stud." she purred throatily in his ear, pulling him away.
Rhonda and Sharon stood, beckoning Goose and Louis to come back and sit with them, that a full-on brawl wasn't worth it.
Sensing movement, Michael's gaze snapped to the right, over his shoulder towards the jock. "Yes?"
The basketball player's answer was a guttural yell. "What the hell did ya stop me for?! I coulda had his ass outta here!"
"Probably. A pity for your loss." Michael smiled at him, almost congenially, before moving away to sit back down with Ivaleigh, Lailea, Rafael, Enrique, Julio, Sofia, and Elena, a table over from Delores, the Ladies and T-Birds. Clara, Montrell, Anna Maria, Valeria, and Roberto were there, as well, while Daniela had chosen to eat by herself out on the bleachers, nursing her wounds over all of the recent events, including the one in which Roberto had broken up with her, claiming her to be too stand-offish anymore for his liking.
"Hey, Shakespeare, sit with us?" Davey asked, attempting to be nice, earning a look from Goose and a hiss of, "Why don't ya just invite the preppies to park their asses here, too?"
"Thank you, but I'm good here, for right now."
"What, ya think you're too good to sit with us?" Goose sneered, as other conversations began picking up around them again.
Michael considered the question for a moment. "What I think is that you need to make up your mind, Goose. Either you'll tolerate me sitting with you, or you won't. Either you'll tolerate the nerds like me, or you won't. There's no both ways."
Goose opened his mouth, and Davey banged his good hand down on the table (making Goose wince a little and stare in surprise), snapping, "Shut up, Goose, this shit ain't Shakespeare's fault, Johnny made his own choices! Look at me! Cos I'm tellin' you right now, if I didn't like bein' a Bird, if DiMucci and me weren't pals, I'd be callin' it quits like Dad asked me to."
Michael gave him an inquiring look. "How did you get him to back off on that?"
Davey shook his head a little, putting on a long-suffering face. "Junior college. The hell if I know what for. And that's another issue. Rio's got her own plans, she's been accepted into Kent State, for a fashion design degree."
"Good for her." Lailea said.
"It's in Ohio."
"What, it's throws a wrench in your weddin' plans?" Ivaleigh asked, eyebrows raised. "Either you go with her, or ya don't. Have ya asked her?"
Davey's voice came out high-pitched. "What, to marry me?"
Hilarity ensued in varying forms: Louis spit his drink out, while Delores spilled hers all over herself. Clara, Montrell, and Michael each attempted politeness, gritting their teeth, pinching the bridges of their noses, while Valeria and Sharon put their heads down in their arms, while Rhonda, Julio, and Enrique looked away, eyes closed, everything shaking, while Stephanie, Roberto, and Sofia just about fell on the floor; Ivaleigh had her face to Rafael's shoulder (the only one not really laughing, and he didn't know whether to be amused or upset that Ivaleigh found it funny), while Anna Maria and Lailea stared at their knees. Goose sat there shaking his head, mouth twisted.
"Oh, shut up, alla you." Davey muttered, pink-faced and trying not to laugh himself. He could just imagine the look on Rio's face if he were to ask such a question, given that they'd only been on one date so far. On the other, some form of discussion did need to be had: He liked her too much to just let her go without trying.
"So, ya got Bastian between the sheets yet?" Ivaleigh asked her sister later after school, sitting next to Rafael on the tailgate of his truck in the Cadillac Jack's parking lot; Lailea was perched upon one of the bed rails, the three of them enjoying their loaded hamburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes.
"No, he won't budge on the full go-round. We do other things, though. It helps." She blushed a deep pink, and Ivaleigh wolf-whistled softly.
Rafael stuck his fingers in his ears. "La la la la la ... Change the topic, please."
"Alright, t' you, then. What's with you?" Ivaleigh said, grinning. "Ya keep lookin' at me weird." Her expression turned more inquiring.
"It just ... it bugged me that you laughed earlier, about Davey and Rio and marriage." He shook his head, while her eyebrows raised high.
"Cos the thought's ridiculous. Even Jaworski said so." Ivaleigh popped a shake-covered fry into her mouth.
"My question still stands."
"Which one?" Although she she knew. They stared at each other unblinking, everything else forgotten. "Or are ya just wonderin' if I find a thought of marriage silly? I don't, for the record. Wolf an' Adelina's vows, for example. Decades an' they're still devoted t' each other. I know marriage can be a good thing."
"Would you want to be married to me?"
"I'm maid of honor." Lailea declared with finality.
Ivaleigh grinned at her sweetly. "Well, no shit, blondie." Looking back at Rafael, she asked, "Why's it matter so much t' you?"
Rafael looked for a moment like he wanted to yell at her a little. "Because I love you."
"I love you, too." She arched her eyebrows at him. "An' dig deeper, Rafe. Why's it such a deal t' you?"
How to explain the fear that wouldn't leave him? "Because ... I feel like ... that if I don't do something ... then you'll disappear. Once, we broke up, and I could hardly stand not seeing you, and once, I spent hours not knowing where you were, if I'd ever see you again." He shivered at the memory of that gut-shredding panic (she was perhaps the only one that he completely and truly cared about in the whole of the world), then smiled shakily at her, trying to lighten the mood. "This white streak I've got in my hair is cos of you."
Ivaleigh pressed a firm kiss to his mouth, once, twice, murmuring, "Breathe.", while Rafael gripped her wrists, dragging her perfume in.
"Even I know fear ain't a real reason t' get married." Lailea offered after a moment.
Rafael acknowledged her with a glance, then gazed at Ivaleigh. "I ... " He exhaled, something settling. "Honestly, I can't see my life and not picture you there with me. We're right for each other."
Ivaleigh grinned hugely at him. "I know."
"So, what're we waiting for?"
"Graduation, for starters. Then Lailea's. She wants t' finish here, so I may end up waitin' t' leave town."
"Ivy, we've been over that."
Ivaleigh glanced at her, guilt and regret twisting in her gut, then continued. "Your college of choice, an' mine. We ain't near ready, an' you know it."
Lailea reached and tugged at her sister's hair. "Hey, strawberry shortcake."
"Yes, Goldilocks?"
"Go t' New York. I won't be alone here, you know it."
On December 15th came the SAT scores; to her glad surprise, Stephanie earned a 1326, while Rhonda and Sharon both scored in at 1352.
"Hey, we can finally lord it over you, Steph, you got the beauty, we got the brains!" Rhonda jibed, grinning cheekily, the three of them standing in the office with a number of other SAT takers, everyone looking over their scores, some smiling, some groaning, a few weeping outright.
"You're gonna have a problem with my right hook if you don't shut up."
Michael looked in a different direction, smirking, proud of her.
"Check it an' weep, y'all!" Ivaleigh announced, waving her score card around a little, a gleeful child. "Fifteen-ninety-eight!"
"My girl does it again." Rafael grinned, kissing her cheek, ducking his own score card away when she reached for it. "Oh, no, you don't ... " He grinned with challenge, backing up stealthily towards the doorway.
Ivaleigh stalked him with feline agility, a devilish smirk forming. "Ah, yes, I do, give it."
"Two guesses where those two end up." Julio commented idly to Michael, watching them vanish back into the school hallways before gazing down at his own score card, which stated a total 1350. "What'd you get?"
Michael glanced towards Stephanie, wondering if a high score would intrigue her. Probably not. "Thirteen-ninety-six."
"Steph, you're in the high eighties percentage, do you realize universities would love that?" Sharon said excitedly. "You can go just about anywhere."
Stephanie huffed a breath, her eyes narrowing. "Yeah, but for what? College reps are gonna be here in March, I got jack-shit!"
"You could be a lawyer." Michael couldn't resist giving the suggestion. "For as much of a temper as you've got. They would fear you."
"Yeah, I could be a lotta of things, but it's so easy for you to talk, ain't it, Carrington? You already know what you're doin' with your life." Stephanie couldn't keep the hot resentment from bleeding through.
"No, I'm know what I'm planning for a career. Life's something else. Aunt Ellie always said, never confuse one for the other."
"Your aunt was a smart woman." Miss Mason chimed in from one side, smiling, a thick folder of paperwork perched on one arm. "And Stephanie, it's not as though you'll never figure out what you want to do. Stop putting such pressure on yourself. You might just need to spin out on your own for a while, until you find what matters to you. I promise, that's not a bad thing. Being a teacher wasn't my first choice. I wanted to be an actress. The next Olivia de Havilland, if I'd been able to follow through."
"What happened?"
Miss Mason actually smiled, almost conspiratorially. "Oh, the producers found out I wouldn't bend backwards to please them. I got kicked out of a tv studio set when I slapped the director for getting too cozy. I applied for some college courses, trying to find a path, and one of my professors was Miss Dianne Langston. I thought she was the classiest, most outspoken piece of work I'd ever had the privilege of knowing. She drilled into every one of us that the future is always wide open. Most of the male teachers loathed that they couldn't get rid of her. So here I am."
"So, you really gotta want it, or it'll be ruined for you." Rhonda said, her eyes hardening.
"Do you, Miss Ritter?"
"Yes." No questions asked.
"And how much of a pain in the ass are you willing to be?"
Rhonda's answering smile came slow, devilish, wide.
"And you're not sorry?" Stephanie asked, after smirking at Rhonda.
"No. I enjoy this. You'll know you've found what's meant for you, Miss Zinone, when you can't imagine doing anything else. So, explore."
That gave Stephanie new ideas to consider, while Michael frowned faintly, almost jealous – he wanted to be the one to help her with her dreams.
Get a move on it with the motorcycle. Ask Ivaleigh about Pickard's Gang.
Saturday, December 17th (in the later afternoon) turned out to be the court date for Rafael's family; after the testimonies given by him, Elena, Sofia, Lailea, and Ivaleigh, the sentence handed down was twenty-seven months for Diego and Juan (who would be sent to the California Institution For Men, in Chino), and twenty-four months for Benita, Sara, and Pilar (who would be sent the California Correctional Institute For Women At Corona, also in Chino).
Julio wasn't present for the hearing (which lasted nearly three and a half hours), and Daniela hugged her parents tightly after it was over, crying, while Enrique stared at Diego and Sara, while Sofia, Rafael, Elena, and the Storm twins hurried out, simply eager to be away.
Benita didn't bother trying to call her son back, the ties that bound them seemingly wrecked; the same went for Elena and Sofia's parents.
"Where do you stand on this, boy?" Diego demanded roughly of his youngest son.
Enrique thought for a long moment, drained and wanting to run. "I don't know what I know, except that I'll visit when I can. Feliz Navidad."