Someone on Mark's Side
by Tie-B
Chapter VIII
Disclaimer: Aside from the fictional character Dylan and that girl Jessica, I don't own anything in this fic. I don't own any of the celebrities who made cameos in Mark's daydream either.
Ugh. I can't believe some typos actually got through the spell and grammar check back in Chapter 7. They should be fixed now. Thanks goes out to those who notified me.
I'm sorry if this chapter took too long to finish. I've been feeling pretty tired lately. No, I don't have a lump in my neck.
Oh yeah, Happy Holidays to all you who celebrate.
---
Mark left. Brad wanted to follow him upstairs to talk to apologize, but there was no reaching Mark when he was in his room playing that loud music. Angela decided to talk to Brad about what she thought of the situation.
"This is bad. How were we like, supposed to know that Dylan was actually his friend? From where we stood, it looked like he was about to attack Mark."
"Yeah. I messed up big time didn't I? Still, I don't trust that Dylan guy. I think I should call Randy and Lauren at the hospital to tell them what happened," Brad picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, umm... yeah, Randy Taylor's room please."
Angela decided to play dumb, "So why is Randy in the hospital?"
Brad didn't want to talk about it, but he knew Angela well enough to open up. "Mark punched him in the chest and broke his ribs. Mark got fed up with being picked on all the time."
Angela nodded as if she didn't know about it.
"Randy!"
"Hey Brad."
Brad was about to speak and tell his bro that Mark was okay, but another voice came on the phone, "Brad! Did you find Mark?"
It was Jill. She sound awfully worried. Randy probably told her about Mark's disappearance when she came over.
"Yeah mom, he's upstairs."
"What happened? Is he alright?"
"He's fine. He just ran into some drunks on the way to school. He looks hurt, but some kid helped him out."
"Oh, thank God!" Jill exclaimed. Brad could hear Randy's voice in the background, "Mom, I believe Brad wanted to talk to me."
Jill surrendered the phone and Randy's voice was on the line again, "Is he still mad?" he asked.
"Yeah. I screwed up. Mark ran into some drunks on the way to school. Dylan Hunter helped him out. I tackled Dylan Hunter because I thought he was beating up Mark."
"Gee, Mark probably thinks you're such a big moron now," Randy quipped. Brad ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to get into a word fight with Randy. He just decided to change the topic, "So when are you getting out of the hospital?"
"The doctor says I can get out of here by tomorrow, but he also says that I still need to get some rest."
"That's great! You'd be back here and all. Maybe we can patch things up with Mark then?"
"If he doesn't try to hit me again, maybe we will."
---
Lying in his bed, Mark couldn't believe that Dylan didn't bother to get back at Brad for knocking him down. What he found harder to believe was that Brad dragged Mark away like that. That was not only annoying because it was shooting first and asking questions later, but it was also embarrassing.
Mark heard a knock on the door. It was probably Brad. He ignored it and just turned his music louder.
"Mark? Are you okay?"
The voice was female though. It wasn't Brad, it was Angela. Mark concluded that Brad didn't really care about him.
Mark turned down the volume, "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you. What else?"
"Is Brad with you?"
"No."
Mark thought it was okay to let Angela talk. Besides, what did she know anyway?
Mark let Angela in; "If he sent you up here to apologize for him, tell him it's not going to work."
Angela was still pretending, but she was going to make a discreet attempt to fix things. "Why are you mad at him anyway? I don't think he like, meant what he did back there. He was just looking out for you."
Mark was tired of his brother's friends trying to stick their noses in what goes on between the three of them. He practically yelled at Angela, "It goes way beyond that! They're always picking on me! They hate me and now they even tell me not to hang out with the people I want! They have no right to do that! Why don't you all just leave me alone!?"
Mark obviously wasn't one for talking right now. Angela figured that trying to talk to him was the wrong move. Maybe she really should just stick to writing a Net Angels letter. It worked the last time when she tried to talk a girl into ditching her boyfriend after she found out he was using drugs.
"You're right. I'm sorry for bothering you. Bye."
Angela was ready to walk out the door when she heard Mark's voice.
"Wait."
Maybe she was going to get somewhere down this path after all.
"What you said about Dylan, is it true?"
"Of course it is. Everyone in school knows about it. Well, everyone except maybe you. That's why most of us stay away from him. Tell me something: you said he's your friend, is he a nice guy?"
Why Angela would ask such a question was beyond Mark, but he answered anyway. "He treats me a lot better than Brad or Randy do."
"No, I mean is he a nice guy?"
Mark wondered what on earth she was driving at. "He helped me out when I was being beaten up on the street. He even took me to his place to help clean my scratches and wounds. Is that nice enough?" he sarcastically asked.
Angela got dreamy eyed, "Cool! I always thought he was like, cute, but I was a bit scared of him. So now that you tell me he's a nice guy, I'll probably ask him out. Thanks Mark!"
Mark's jaw dropped. Angela wasn't usually one for younger boys. This was weird, yet funny. Mark felt a smile tug on his lips, but he tried to stop it, "I can't believe you."
"Hey, you're the one who told me that he's nicer than Brad!" Angela winked.
The remark managed to pull a short laugh out of Mark. As Angela left the room, she reassured herself that even though she didn't completely fix the problem, she managed to at least cheer up Mark. She continued downstairs and wondered if Brad could give her a lift home.
---
Mark woke up the next day. Saturday. Mark glanced at the clock. It was still early: eight AM. Brad was probably about to leave for soccer practice. Mark would usually leave with him so Brad could drop him off at karate class, but the situation was different now.
Mark decided to sleep another thirty minutes just to make sure Brad had already left the house before he went down.
---
Thirty minutes later, Mark hurried down. He didn't dry up properly and was still a bit damp from the showers. He didn't find anyone downstairs. Mom and Dad must have gone to visit Randy again; He gets all the attention. Mark decided to check his e-mail. Maybe the Net Angel team from school had already written a reply by now.
Scrolling down the mouse, Mark ran his eyes over his mail quickly. There was lots of spam. Mark doesn't really check his e-mail a lot, so the accumulated junk was nearly overwhelming. Mark started putting the check marks beside so that they could be deleted. As he went down the list he saw an e-mail from Randy. It was dated yesterday.
Mark paused and pondered.
Click. Mark placed a check on the box. He didn't want to hear anything from Randy. Not one more insult, not anything. Not even an apology. He was sick of Randy.
No Net Angel letter. Just a bunch of advertisements and other garbage. With one click of a button, Mark deleted Randy's mail along with the spam.
---
Dylan walked into the karate gym. He had planned to come there to sign up for lessons earlier during the week, but he wasn't able to find the time.
As Dylan looked around, he saw that promotions were taking place. He was half-expecting Mark to be there, but Mark did say that his parents made him discontinue and it occurred to Dylan that he failed to bother asking why. At first he thought it was due to financial reasons, but he remembered that Mark's dad was the Toolman, so it was unlikely that they didn't have cash to pay for lessons.
"Can I help you?" the instructor asked.
Dylan nodded, "I'm here for lessons sir."
"I see. Are you a beginner or do you already have previous experience in Karate?"
"Brown belt sir," Dylan replied confidently.
"Ah," the teacher seemed impressed. Kids of Dylan's age were usually only violets or blues. "Well, you'll have to go to the office room over there and fill up some forms. Do you have your uniform?"
Usual response. A simple nod.
"The locker rooms are over there," the instructor pointed to the far end of the place, "Come back here afterwards and you may join the class. There is only one other brown belt here," he pointed again, this time to a brunette girl, probably seventeen or eighteen. Definitely a senior and definitely a familiar face to Dylan.
Again, Dylan nodded. He thanked the instructor before heading to the gym's office. So, Jessica was a brown belt in Mark's karate class. At least Dylan could approach someone even if Mark wasn't there.
---
Randy was getting ready to leave the hospital. The pain in his chest had subsided. He still needed to avoid excess physical activity, but that really wasn't much of a problem because he wasn't really much of the active type. That was Brad. Randy was the smart one. Randy didn't know what Mark was aside from annoying dork, which was a title he was trying to abolish in his head.
Jill, not saying much aside from the usual greeting, accompanied him down the elevator, to the lobby and out. It looked like she had a lot in mind. She was probably contemplating whether or not to send Mark back to karate class after he was beat up on the street. "Mark looked pretty badly beaten up," she told her middle son, "There was this huge bruise on his face." Apparently, she brought her car, the Austin Healey. Randy guessed it was because Brad took the Nomad to practice.
In his head, Randy sorted out what he needed to do when he got home. First things first was to settle things with Mark. Randy sent him a much-deserved apology through e-mail, which he hoped Mark didn't simply ignore and delete. In case he did, there was always his Net Angel letter, which he still hadn't sent because he was still double-checking to make sure he wouldn't accidentally reveal his identity.
Randy was still a bit sleepy. He usually slept until ten during weekends. As the Healey traveled along the busy street, his eyes weighed heavily and before he even knew it, he dozed off to sleep.
---
Mark was sitting on the couch, watching a behind the scenes footage of some new upcoming movies. Fifteen minutes later, he drifted into daydreaming of writing and directing his own films someday, and even winning an Academy Award.
The couch was no longer a couch, but a seat reserved for Mark in the audience of the Oscar Awards. Christy Carlson Romano and Taran Noah Smith were presenting the award for Best Director. The nominees were all shown on the huge screen, including the one Mark directed. Christy spoke as soon as the cheers died down, "And the winner for best director is..."
Drum roll. Mark shifted in his seat as Christy and Taran opened the envelope.
"Mark Taylor!" Taran announced.
The crowd burst into cheer and applause as Mark headed up to the stage. He gave Christy a polite peck on the cheek and held out his hand to shake Taran's. Before the young actor could shake hands with him, Mark heard...
A knock on the door?
Mark was snatched out of his daydream. The how he was watching was almost over now. He looked behind him as another set of knocks hit the door. Mark grumbled as he got up, clearly upset that his fantasy was interrupted just as he was about to thank Brad and Randy for nothing in his speech, and proceeded to open the door. Who on earth could it be anyway? Brad was still at practice, the Toolman went to work, Jill was visiting Randy who was in the hospital, and their neighbor Wilson doesn't usually cross over to the other side of the fence.
The door swung wide open to reveal Angela.
"Uhh... Brad's not here," Mark immediately told her.
Angela rolled her eyes, "Hi Mark. I'm not looking for Brad. We broke up remember?"
"So, why are you here?"
"I need your help," she implored.
That was even more surprising to Mark. "My help? With what?"
Angela really wanted to hit two birds with one stone. She wanted Mark to introduce her to Dylan and at the same time, she wanted to have a long chat with Mark so she can talk him into forgiving his brothers on the way there. It was a clever plan, really.
"Could you, like, introduce me to Dylan?"
Mark's jaw dropped again. He couldn't believe Angela was serious about hooking up with a younger guy. Maybe she was really that desperate?
With Mark in stunned silence, Angela spoke again explaining her plan, "I have the car parked over there. We could go to his place and you can explain to him what really, like, happened last night with Brad and you can, like, hook me up with him."
Mark pondered on the whole idea. He looked to the TV and saw that the show he was watching was over and the credits were already rolling. Why not? He didn't have anything else to do anyway.
---
Yes. I put Mark Taylor and Taran Smith on the same scene, within inches of each other. I messed with the fabric of time and space. You can call me insane now.
by Tie-B
Chapter VIII
Disclaimer: Aside from the fictional character Dylan and that girl Jessica, I don't own anything in this fic. I don't own any of the celebrities who made cameos in Mark's daydream either.
Ugh. I can't believe some typos actually got through the spell and grammar check back in Chapter 7. They should be fixed now. Thanks goes out to those who notified me.
I'm sorry if this chapter took too long to finish. I've been feeling pretty tired lately. No, I don't have a lump in my neck.
Oh yeah, Happy Holidays to all you who celebrate.
---
Mark left. Brad wanted to follow him upstairs to talk to apologize, but there was no reaching Mark when he was in his room playing that loud music. Angela decided to talk to Brad about what she thought of the situation.
"This is bad. How were we like, supposed to know that Dylan was actually his friend? From where we stood, it looked like he was about to attack Mark."
"Yeah. I messed up big time didn't I? Still, I don't trust that Dylan guy. I think I should call Randy and Lauren at the hospital to tell them what happened," Brad picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, umm... yeah, Randy Taylor's room please."
Angela decided to play dumb, "So why is Randy in the hospital?"
Brad didn't want to talk about it, but he knew Angela well enough to open up. "Mark punched him in the chest and broke his ribs. Mark got fed up with being picked on all the time."
Angela nodded as if she didn't know about it.
"Randy!"
"Hey Brad."
Brad was about to speak and tell his bro that Mark was okay, but another voice came on the phone, "Brad! Did you find Mark?"
It was Jill. She sound awfully worried. Randy probably told her about Mark's disappearance when she came over.
"Yeah mom, he's upstairs."
"What happened? Is he alright?"
"He's fine. He just ran into some drunks on the way to school. He looks hurt, but some kid helped him out."
"Oh, thank God!" Jill exclaimed. Brad could hear Randy's voice in the background, "Mom, I believe Brad wanted to talk to me."
Jill surrendered the phone and Randy's voice was on the line again, "Is he still mad?" he asked.
"Yeah. I screwed up. Mark ran into some drunks on the way to school. Dylan Hunter helped him out. I tackled Dylan Hunter because I thought he was beating up Mark."
"Gee, Mark probably thinks you're such a big moron now," Randy quipped. Brad ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to get into a word fight with Randy. He just decided to change the topic, "So when are you getting out of the hospital?"
"The doctor says I can get out of here by tomorrow, but he also says that I still need to get some rest."
"That's great! You'd be back here and all. Maybe we can patch things up with Mark then?"
"If he doesn't try to hit me again, maybe we will."
---
Lying in his bed, Mark couldn't believe that Dylan didn't bother to get back at Brad for knocking him down. What he found harder to believe was that Brad dragged Mark away like that. That was not only annoying because it was shooting first and asking questions later, but it was also embarrassing.
Mark heard a knock on the door. It was probably Brad. He ignored it and just turned his music louder.
"Mark? Are you okay?"
The voice was female though. It wasn't Brad, it was Angela. Mark concluded that Brad didn't really care about him.
Mark turned down the volume, "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you. What else?"
"Is Brad with you?"
"No."
Mark thought it was okay to let Angela talk. Besides, what did she know anyway?
Mark let Angela in; "If he sent you up here to apologize for him, tell him it's not going to work."
Angela was still pretending, but she was going to make a discreet attempt to fix things. "Why are you mad at him anyway? I don't think he like, meant what he did back there. He was just looking out for you."
Mark was tired of his brother's friends trying to stick their noses in what goes on between the three of them. He practically yelled at Angela, "It goes way beyond that! They're always picking on me! They hate me and now they even tell me not to hang out with the people I want! They have no right to do that! Why don't you all just leave me alone!?"
Mark obviously wasn't one for talking right now. Angela figured that trying to talk to him was the wrong move. Maybe she really should just stick to writing a Net Angels letter. It worked the last time when she tried to talk a girl into ditching her boyfriend after she found out he was using drugs.
"You're right. I'm sorry for bothering you. Bye."
Angela was ready to walk out the door when she heard Mark's voice.
"Wait."
Maybe she was going to get somewhere down this path after all.
"What you said about Dylan, is it true?"
"Of course it is. Everyone in school knows about it. Well, everyone except maybe you. That's why most of us stay away from him. Tell me something: you said he's your friend, is he a nice guy?"
Why Angela would ask such a question was beyond Mark, but he answered anyway. "He treats me a lot better than Brad or Randy do."
"No, I mean is he a nice guy?"
Mark wondered what on earth she was driving at. "He helped me out when I was being beaten up on the street. He even took me to his place to help clean my scratches and wounds. Is that nice enough?" he sarcastically asked.
Angela got dreamy eyed, "Cool! I always thought he was like, cute, but I was a bit scared of him. So now that you tell me he's a nice guy, I'll probably ask him out. Thanks Mark!"
Mark's jaw dropped. Angela wasn't usually one for younger boys. This was weird, yet funny. Mark felt a smile tug on his lips, but he tried to stop it, "I can't believe you."
"Hey, you're the one who told me that he's nicer than Brad!" Angela winked.
The remark managed to pull a short laugh out of Mark. As Angela left the room, she reassured herself that even though she didn't completely fix the problem, she managed to at least cheer up Mark. She continued downstairs and wondered if Brad could give her a lift home.
---
Mark woke up the next day. Saturday. Mark glanced at the clock. It was still early: eight AM. Brad was probably about to leave for soccer practice. Mark would usually leave with him so Brad could drop him off at karate class, but the situation was different now.
Mark decided to sleep another thirty minutes just to make sure Brad had already left the house before he went down.
---
Thirty minutes later, Mark hurried down. He didn't dry up properly and was still a bit damp from the showers. He didn't find anyone downstairs. Mom and Dad must have gone to visit Randy again; He gets all the attention. Mark decided to check his e-mail. Maybe the Net Angel team from school had already written a reply by now.
Scrolling down the mouse, Mark ran his eyes over his mail quickly. There was lots of spam. Mark doesn't really check his e-mail a lot, so the accumulated junk was nearly overwhelming. Mark started putting the check marks beside so that they could be deleted. As he went down the list he saw an e-mail from Randy. It was dated yesterday.
Mark paused and pondered.
Click. Mark placed a check on the box. He didn't want to hear anything from Randy. Not one more insult, not anything. Not even an apology. He was sick of Randy.
No Net Angel letter. Just a bunch of advertisements and other garbage. With one click of a button, Mark deleted Randy's mail along with the spam.
---
Dylan walked into the karate gym. He had planned to come there to sign up for lessons earlier during the week, but he wasn't able to find the time.
As Dylan looked around, he saw that promotions were taking place. He was half-expecting Mark to be there, but Mark did say that his parents made him discontinue and it occurred to Dylan that he failed to bother asking why. At first he thought it was due to financial reasons, but he remembered that Mark's dad was the Toolman, so it was unlikely that they didn't have cash to pay for lessons.
"Can I help you?" the instructor asked.
Dylan nodded, "I'm here for lessons sir."
"I see. Are you a beginner or do you already have previous experience in Karate?"
"Brown belt sir," Dylan replied confidently.
"Ah," the teacher seemed impressed. Kids of Dylan's age were usually only violets or blues. "Well, you'll have to go to the office room over there and fill up some forms. Do you have your uniform?"
Usual response. A simple nod.
"The locker rooms are over there," the instructor pointed to the far end of the place, "Come back here afterwards and you may join the class. There is only one other brown belt here," he pointed again, this time to a brunette girl, probably seventeen or eighteen. Definitely a senior and definitely a familiar face to Dylan.
Again, Dylan nodded. He thanked the instructor before heading to the gym's office. So, Jessica was a brown belt in Mark's karate class. At least Dylan could approach someone even if Mark wasn't there.
---
Randy was getting ready to leave the hospital. The pain in his chest had subsided. He still needed to avoid excess physical activity, but that really wasn't much of a problem because he wasn't really much of the active type. That was Brad. Randy was the smart one. Randy didn't know what Mark was aside from annoying dork, which was a title he was trying to abolish in his head.
Jill, not saying much aside from the usual greeting, accompanied him down the elevator, to the lobby and out. It looked like she had a lot in mind. She was probably contemplating whether or not to send Mark back to karate class after he was beat up on the street. "Mark looked pretty badly beaten up," she told her middle son, "There was this huge bruise on his face." Apparently, she brought her car, the Austin Healey. Randy guessed it was because Brad took the Nomad to practice.
In his head, Randy sorted out what he needed to do when he got home. First things first was to settle things with Mark. Randy sent him a much-deserved apology through e-mail, which he hoped Mark didn't simply ignore and delete. In case he did, there was always his Net Angel letter, which he still hadn't sent because he was still double-checking to make sure he wouldn't accidentally reveal his identity.
Randy was still a bit sleepy. He usually slept until ten during weekends. As the Healey traveled along the busy street, his eyes weighed heavily and before he even knew it, he dozed off to sleep.
---
Mark was sitting on the couch, watching a behind the scenes footage of some new upcoming movies. Fifteen minutes later, he drifted into daydreaming of writing and directing his own films someday, and even winning an Academy Award.
The couch was no longer a couch, but a seat reserved for Mark in the audience of the Oscar Awards. Christy Carlson Romano and Taran Noah Smith were presenting the award for Best Director. The nominees were all shown on the huge screen, including the one Mark directed. Christy spoke as soon as the cheers died down, "And the winner for best director is..."
Drum roll. Mark shifted in his seat as Christy and Taran opened the envelope.
"Mark Taylor!" Taran announced.
The crowd burst into cheer and applause as Mark headed up to the stage. He gave Christy a polite peck on the cheek and held out his hand to shake Taran's. Before the young actor could shake hands with him, Mark heard...
A knock on the door?
Mark was snatched out of his daydream. The how he was watching was almost over now. He looked behind him as another set of knocks hit the door. Mark grumbled as he got up, clearly upset that his fantasy was interrupted just as he was about to thank Brad and Randy for nothing in his speech, and proceeded to open the door. Who on earth could it be anyway? Brad was still at practice, the Toolman went to work, Jill was visiting Randy who was in the hospital, and their neighbor Wilson doesn't usually cross over to the other side of the fence.
The door swung wide open to reveal Angela.
"Uhh... Brad's not here," Mark immediately told her.
Angela rolled her eyes, "Hi Mark. I'm not looking for Brad. We broke up remember?"
"So, why are you here?"
"I need your help," she implored.
That was even more surprising to Mark. "My help? With what?"
Angela really wanted to hit two birds with one stone. She wanted Mark to introduce her to Dylan and at the same time, she wanted to have a long chat with Mark so she can talk him into forgiving his brothers on the way there. It was a clever plan, really.
"Could you, like, introduce me to Dylan?"
Mark's jaw dropped again. He couldn't believe Angela was serious about hooking up with a younger guy. Maybe she was really that desperate?
With Mark in stunned silence, Angela spoke again explaining her plan, "I have the car parked over there. We could go to his place and you can explain to him what really, like, happened last night with Brad and you can, like, hook me up with him."
Mark pondered on the whole idea. He looked to the TV and saw that the show he was watching was over and the credits were already rolling. Why not? He didn't have anything else to do anyway.
---
Yes. I put Mark Taylor and Taran Smith on the same scene, within inches of each other. I messed with the fabric of time and space. You can call me insane now.