Title: And I Fell… (Part 3 - "Calm Before the Storm")
Author: Wari
E-mail: fa_chan@yahoo.com
Rating/Genre: R for bad language, drug use, and slash/ Absolutely AU…really, I mean it
Archive?: Sure, just ask for my permission.
Feedback: I crave your comments so bring them on!
Comments: Thanks to Ashley and all who read and like this story!
Notes: Yes, the mandatory set-up, folks, but the game begins in the next part.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mighty Ducks characters. Disney does. :P
------------
"Of all the luck in the world, we had to run into Riley and his punk friends on the first day back," Jesse griped while carving his name onto the desk with a pocketknife.
He, Charlie, Luis, and Ken sat in a cluster together at the back of the classroom. Meanwhile, Russ, Goldberg, Averman, and Guy were assigned their homeroom next door instead. Connie, though, was on the other side of the building.
Luis and Ken were too busy playing with a paper football to really join the conversation. Charlie merely sat back and looked out the window, tuning out Jesse's ranting and the lesson currently being taught by their teacher, a middle-aged balding man with a horrible lisp.
"Charlie? You listening, man?" Jesse asked, annoyed at being ignored again.
Charlie turned away from the window.
"Huh? Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"
Jesse sighed, repeating himself. "I said, are you ready to face Riley this afternoon??" Jesse hated to nag Charlie, but lately, his friend was spacing out more than usual.
Charlie shrugged, feeling quite indifferent about the whole deal.
"What kind of an answer is that?!"
He shrugged again and Jesse wanted to stab himself in the eye with his knife. He shook his head at Charlie.
"Well, man, I got your back. I won't let you do it alone," he declared. Seeing Charlie absentmindedly nod, he added, "Besides, we've been waiting a long time for this moment, right?"
Charlie slowly sat up, beginning to take what Jesse was saying seriously. He fixed him with 'the look.'
"Jess, you don't have to --"
"I can and I will, Spazway. You know how much it means to me. Heh, been waiting too damn long, in my opinion."
Charlie fell silent. Jesse was a stubborn ass, and lucky for him, Charlie could be a pretty patient guy, if he wished.
"Fine," he said, abandoning their discussion and turning once again to the window, missing the smug grin on Jesse's face.
----------
School had let out for almost an hour and four o' clock had rolled around. Charlie and his bunch made their way up to the roof where, no doubt about it, Riley would already be waiting for him.
Charlie opened the door and sunlight flooded the dark stairwell. One by one, they stepped through the doorway and found themselves standing on the roof.
Indeed, Riley (flanked by Cole and Scooter as usual) was patiently waiting there. However, Charlie wasted no time.
"All right, Riley. I'm here, so let's play," he spoke, walking past the other teen and towards the 'playing field.'
Riley smirked, following him to the railing. "Sure thing, Conway."
The referee, a boy Charlie recognized from one of his classes, went over to stand before Riley and Charlie at the railings.
"I'm sure that whoever stands here at this moment knows what is about to happen," the boy commented, staring particularly at Riley and Charlie.
The nodding of their heads confirmed the referee's assumption.
"Good. But seeing that there are lots of new faces around here today," he paused to stare at the freshmen, who have come to watch, and continued, "I'll be happy to explain the…hmm…" he thought hard for the right word, "…mechanics of the game, ok?"
Nobody dare spoke so the boy went on in an authoritative tone.
"Anyway, the game that these guys are playing is called the Clapping Game. It's a yearly event held in the fall season, officially on the first day of school, which is today. And basically, what they do," he jerked a thumb in the two boys' direction, "is hold onto the railing at the start of the game. After that, they compete against one another by attempting to clap the highest number of times while letting go of the rail and leaning away from the ledge.
"If they're lucky," the ref smirked, "they'll be able to grab the railing in time before they fall."
Jesse knew the drill. It wasn't the first time he'd heard this stuff before. After all, he had been dreaming of this day since his freshman year. He took a look over the edge. They were about four floors up from the ground. From where he stood, the roof overlooked the weed-infested athletic field below. Starting to feel a bit uneasy, Jesse finally turned his attention back to the referee as he finished his explanation.
"…and the last person left, will be recognized as King of the school for the upcoming school year. And immediately following that will be the ritual graffiti covering of the Great Wall in the south hall."
Out of nowhere, Averman snickered. "Heheh, the Great Wall… I'll never get over that." Someone stepped on his foot (most-likely Goldberg, he figured), shutting him up.
Meanwhile, awestruck faces stared at one another and eager whispers were heard. However, the crowd fell silent once again as soon as the boy began listing off the rules of the game.
"Rule #1," he started, clearing his throat. "To be able to compete, you MUST be an upperclassman. In other words, a senior. There are absolutely no exceptions to this rule."
Some of the spectators looked disappointed while others merely shrugged.
"Funny how that's the only rule I can agree on," whispered Connie to Guy, who automatically took hold of her hand.
"Rule #2," continued the ref. "You must cleanly complete the number of claps called or you will be disqualified.
"Rule #3 -- If you choose to stop in the middle of the game, you will be disqualified.
"And finally, the most important rule of all," the boy grinned wickedly.
"Rule #4 -- You fall, you lose."
"What a sick joke, dawg," said Russ with a slight grimace.
Everyone exchanged a glance.
"So, uh…" the ref began again, looking around. "Anyone else gonna play or is this all we have to work with?"
Jesse walked out of the crowd to stand beside Charlie, and soon after, a rather tough-looking boy also stepped forward to stand on Riley's side.
"Why the hell is he playing?" asked Guy, who gestured to the newcomer.
"Yeah, shouldn't he be somewhere with his friends smoking crack or something? This doesn't seem like something he'd be interested in," Luis said, looking at the tall boy that stood with Charlie, Jesse, and Riley.
"I don't know what the hell he's doing, but you have to hand it to Fulton -- doing stupid stunts while he's high. Yep, he's really asking for it," Averman said, snickering until Connie elbowed him.
"You guys, shut up! This is a serious moment!" she whispered, quite irritated. Averman groaned, rubbing his sore ribs. Connie really has dangerous elbows, he mused.
"All right, four contestants. That's a good number," the ref mused aloud then gestured for the four to take their places behind the railing. The four boys carefully climbed over to the other side, their feet perched on a small ledge of the building. Four pairs of hands gripped the wrought iron metal.
Of all of the times he had imagined this exact moment in the past, Jesse had never once thought of the reality that he was about to face. Craning his neck around to look down below, he suddenly realized again how high up they actually were. The people watching on safe ground looked so small from where he stood. He was beginning to feel unsettled once more.
"Shit this is high…" he mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat and saying a prayer in his head. He wasn't prepared when Charlie suddenly leaned back and shook the rail to test its stability.
The unexpected movement nearly gave Jesse a heart attack, and he let out a surprised squeak, earning himself amused stares from the students who came to watch on the roof. Even his friends were trying to suppress a giggle or two.
Another blow to his dignity in the same day.
He glared at Charlie, who had his head turned the other way.
"C'mon, you chicken shits," Charlie breathed, wanting to get started already.
"Ready?" the referee asked.
One after another, they nodded. Jesse was the last to signal that he was ready to begin.
One last moment of calm, just enough to gather their wits…
Then the countdown was initiated.
--------------------------
Author: Wari
E-mail: fa_chan@yahoo.com
Rating/Genre: R for bad language, drug use, and slash/ Absolutely AU…really, I mean it
Archive?: Sure, just ask for my permission.
Feedback: I crave your comments so bring them on!
Comments: Thanks to Ashley and all who read and like this story!
Notes: Yes, the mandatory set-up, folks, but the game begins in the next part.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mighty Ducks characters. Disney does. :P
------------
"Of all the luck in the world, we had to run into Riley and his punk friends on the first day back," Jesse griped while carving his name onto the desk with a pocketknife.
He, Charlie, Luis, and Ken sat in a cluster together at the back of the classroom. Meanwhile, Russ, Goldberg, Averman, and Guy were assigned their homeroom next door instead. Connie, though, was on the other side of the building.
Luis and Ken were too busy playing with a paper football to really join the conversation. Charlie merely sat back and looked out the window, tuning out Jesse's ranting and the lesson currently being taught by their teacher, a middle-aged balding man with a horrible lisp.
"Charlie? You listening, man?" Jesse asked, annoyed at being ignored again.
Charlie turned away from the window.
"Huh? Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"
Jesse sighed, repeating himself. "I said, are you ready to face Riley this afternoon??" Jesse hated to nag Charlie, but lately, his friend was spacing out more than usual.
Charlie shrugged, feeling quite indifferent about the whole deal.
"What kind of an answer is that?!"
He shrugged again and Jesse wanted to stab himself in the eye with his knife. He shook his head at Charlie.
"Well, man, I got your back. I won't let you do it alone," he declared. Seeing Charlie absentmindedly nod, he added, "Besides, we've been waiting a long time for this moment, right?"
Charlie slowly sat up, beginning to take what Jesse was saying seriously. He fixed him with 'the look.'
"Jess, you don't have to --"
"I can and I will, Spazway. You know how much it means to me. Heh, been waiting too damn long, in my opinion."
Charlie fell silent. Jesse was a stubborn ass, and lucky for him, Charlie could be a pretty patient guy, if he wished.
"Fine," he said, abandoning their discussion and turning once again to the window, missing the smug grin on Jesse's face.
----------
School had let out for almost an hour and four o' clock had rolled around. Charlie and his bunch made their way up to the roof where, no doubt about it, Riley would already be waiting for him.
Charlie opened the door and sunlight flooded the dark stairwell. One by one, they stepped through the doorway and found themselves standing on the roof.
Indeed, Riley (flanked by Cole and Scooter as usual) was patiently waiting there. However, Charlie wasted no time.
"All right, Riley. I'm here, so let's play," he spoke, walking past the other teen and towards the 'playing field.'
Riley smirked, following him to the railing. "Sure thing, Conway."
The referee, a boy Charlie recognized from one of his classes, went over to stand before Riley and Charlie at the railings.
"I'm sure that whoever stands here at this moment knows what is about to happen," the boy commented, staring particularly at Riley and Charlie.
The nodding of their heads confirmed the referee's assumption.
"Good. But seeing that there are lots of new faces around here today," he paused to stare at the freshmen, who have come to watch, and continued, "I'll be happy to explain the…hmm…" he thought hard for the right word, "…mechanics of the game, ok?"
Nobody dare spoke so the boy went on in an authoritative tone.
"Anyway, the game that these guys are playing is called the Clapping Game. It's a yearly event held in the fall season, officially on the first day of school, which is today. And basically, what they do," he jerked a thumb in the two boys' direction, "is hold onto the railing at the start of the game. After that, they compete against one another by attempting to clap the highest number of times while letting go of the rail and leaning away from the ledge.
"If they're lucky," the ref smirked, "they'll be able to grab the railing in time before they fall."
Jesse knew the drill. It wasn't the first time he'd heard this stuff before. After all, he had been dreaming of this day since his freshman year. He took a look over the edge. They were about four floors up from the ground. From where he stood, the roof overlooked the weed-infested athletic field below. Starting to feel a bit uneasy, Jesse finally turned his attention back to the referee as he finished his explanation.
"…and the last person left, will be recognized as King of the school for the upcoming school year. And immediately following that will be the ritual graffiti covering of the Great Wall in the south hall."
Out of nowhere, Averman snickered. "Heheh, the Great Wall… I'll never get over that." Someone stepped on his foot (most-likely Goldberg, he figured), shutting him up.
Meanwhile, awestruck faces stared at one another and eager whispers were heard. However, the crowd fell silent once again as soon as the boy began listing off the rules of the game.
"Rule #1," he started, clearing his throat. "To be able to compete, you MUST be an upperclassman. In other words, a senior. There are absolutely no exceptions to this rule."
Some of the spectators looked disappointed while others merely shrugged.
"Funny how that's the only rule I can agree on," whispered Connie to Guy, who automatically took hold of her hand.
"Rule #2," continued the ref. "You must cleanly complete the number of claps called or you will be disqualified.
"Rule #3 -- If you choose to stop in the middle of the game, you will be disqualified.
"And finally, the most important rule of all," the boy grinned wickedly.
"Rule #4 -- You fall, you lose."
"What a sick joke, dawg," said Russ with a slight grimace.
Everyone exchanged a glance.
"So, uh…" the ref began again, looking around. "Anyone else gonna play or is this all we have to work with?"
Jesse walked out of the crowd to stand beside Charlie, and soon after, a rather tough-looking boy also stepped forward to stand on Riley's side.
"Why the hell is he playing?" asked Guy, who gestured to the newcomer.
"Yeah, shouldn't he be somewhere with his friends smoking crack or something? This doesn't seem like something he'd be interested in," Luis said, looking at the tall boy that stood with Charlie, Jesse, and Riley.
"I don't know what the hell he's doing, but you have to hand it to Fulton -- doing stupid stunts while he's high. Yep, he's really asking for it," Averman said, snickering until Connie elbowed him.
"You guys, shut up! This is a serious moment!" she whispered, quite irritated. Averman groaned, rubbing his sore ribs. Connie really has dangerous elbows, he mused.
"All right, four contestants. That's a good number," the ref mused aloud then gestured for the four to take their places behind the railing. The four boys carefully climbed over to the other side, their feet perched on a small ledge of the building. Four pairs of hands gripped the wrought iron metal.
Of all of the times he had imagined this exact moment in the past, Jesse had never once thought of the reality that he was about to face. Craning his neck around to look down below, he suddenly realized again how high up they actually were. The people watching on safe ground looked so small from where he stood. He was beginning to feel unsettled once more.
"Shit this is high…" he mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat and saying a prayer in his head. He wasn't prepared when Charlie suddenly leaned back and shook the rail to test its stability.
The unexpected movement nearly gave Jesse a heart attack, and he let out a surprised squeak, earning himself amused stares from the students who came to watch on the roof. Even his friends were trying to suppress a giggle or two.
Another blow to his dignity in the same day.
He glared at Charlie, who had his head turned the other way.
"C'mon, you chicken shits," Charlie breathed, wanting to get started already.
"Ready?" the referee asked.
One after another, they nodded. Jesse was the last to signal that he was ready to begin.
One last moment of calm, just enough to gather their wits…
Then the countdown was initiated.
--------------------------
