Title: Another Brick in the Wall
Author: Lea of Mirkwood
Rating: R, for language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Faculty. I only own Kit.
**************************************************************************** **********
September 2, 1998
"One! Two! Three! Go!"
Kit walked up the lawn of the school, eyes narrowed in confusion. She hurried in the direction of the voices, wondering if it was a cockfight from the circus or something equally amusing. It wasn't. Half the football team and some of the "burnouts" had found a favorite pastime. They had Casey lifted up like a battering ram, and, even though he was struggling, ran him against the flagpole with his legs open. They laughed and dropped him to the ground like a forgotten toy. Casey moaned in pain and curled up in the fetal position, and tried to sit back up. The rest of the aggressors picked up his schoolbooks and scattered them all over the ground. Kit squared her shoulders and marched towards the group, pushing past the small group of sadists who had come to watch.
"Get the fuck out of my way, you sons of bitches! Leave him the fuck alone!" she yelled angrily, making her way through.
"Jesus Christ, what a bitch," muttered Gabe, and another aggressor laughed.
"Little bastard isn't gonna be fucking anything anytime soon now!"
Kit smirked and walked directly up to him, looking straight into his eyes. She brought her knee up and kneed him in the groin. He groaned and bent over.
"Well neither are you," she snapped. "Serves you right, you asshole."
The crowd dispersed, losing interest. Kit crouched down next to Casey and put a hand on his shoulder, propping him up. "Hey...are you okay?" she asked, concerned. "Casey?"
He propped himself up a little, blinking rapidly and wincing.
"Yeah....I think so."
"Good," said Kit, standing up quickly. Casey dropped back down without her hand on his shoulder and hit the ground with a grunt of pain. Kit started packing up Casey's things again. A group of the cheerleaders walked by, Delilah at the front. Casey followed her with his eyes, staring with a kind of worship. Kit stood back up, dusting her hands off on her hips. She dropped Casey's olive colored messenger bag by his feet, and held out her hand. He took it and she pulled him up. Kit noticed, with some amusement, that he was about two inches shorter than her. She pushed her glasses up on top of her head.
"Kit O'Connell, by the way."
Casey nodded, and put his hand up to his nose. It came away bloody. He looked over at the girl, hoping she hadn't noticed. Too late.
"That...uhh..." she said, quite articulately. She reached out and removed his hand gently. She peered at Casey, making him feel very uncomfortable.
"It doesn't seem too bad!" she said cheerfully, having concluded her study of Casey's face. "No severe damage down south? That I'm not checking."
He swallowed. "Well...thank you," he said uncomfortably. Kit reached over and lightly brushed her thumb against his lower lip. He pulled back.
"No problem. Anytime those jerks try to get on your case, just yell, okay?"
Casey nodded, looking away. He felt so ashamed, having to be saved by the new kid, and to add to that, it was a girl. He turned and walked away.
--- --- ---
Whether by choice, or by chance, Casey and Kit stuck together. Casey, because he'd seen the damage Kit had done to those bullies, and Kit because she believed in strength in numbers. Not many people picked on either of them. It definitely wasn't a friendship. It was more of a mutual distaste for pain and humiliation. Unfortunately, their sixth period gym was the place where the theory of the buddy system failed. This was when pushpins found their way into Kit's gym shoes and wet, twisted towels slapped against Casey's backside, and he found himself locked in lockers or, since he had grown a bit over summer break, the new method was to shove him so hard into the locker he had vent marks imprinted on his face until seventh period. Kit went out to her car to eat lunch, Casey went to the bleachers. Casey was definitely put off by Kit and her energetic personality. Put bluntly, he didn't understand it, and sometimes it embarrassed him. The day they mutually decided that lunch together was a bad idea was the first and, as Casey passionately hoped, last day that they ate together at school. They sat down at Stokely's table.
"Hello, Stokely!" said Kit, putting her tray down.
"Hi Stokes," mumbled Casey, trying to ignore Kit. Stokely acknowleged their presence by nodding slightly, then returning to her book. Casey opened his brown bag lunch and began eating his egg salad sandwich. A few minutes of eating peacefully in silence and then it all went to hell.
"Why Stokely, I see you've finally found someone willing to be seen within a five foot radius of you," came Delilah's smug tone.
"Look where you're standing," muttered Kit around a mouthful of peach cobbler. Casey looked intently at his juice box as if the puzzle on the back told the secret of the universe. (42)
"Fuck off, bitch," replied Stokely with usual enthusiasm, which is, to say, not much.
"So violent. So, Stokely, I read a study that said lesbians are mostly violent when they are provoked. Can you help us? Do you think that theory is true?"
"Theory," echoed Kit. "That's a really big word for you Delilah."
"Oh, sticking up for your little lesbian lover? Are you a violent lesbian too?"
"Quite articulate. I congratulate you, Delilah," said Kit. "And no, I am not a lesbian. I prefer guys."
Delilah smirked. "Well, you won't be getting very far with Casey here," she mocked, reaching over to ruffle Casey's hair, who turned red at her touch. "He doesn't date."
"Did I say I was interested in Casey? No, I thought not. Why would you say he wouldn't date though? He's cute enough," asked Kit offhandedly, reaching over to tilt Casey's face up. "Well, maybe not when he's blushing so bad, but normally there's nothing wrong with him."
"He's gay!" yelled one of the guys on the football team, overhearing the conversation.
"Oh, how convenient," hissed Delilah. "You can scope out men together!" Before Kit, Casey, or Stokely could respond, she turned and started to walk away from their table. Kit stood up suddenly, green eyes flashing, and scooped up a generous amount of mashed potatoes and gravy on the cheap plastic spork. When Casey realized what she was going to do, it was already too late. Kit flung the potatoes at Delilah. It made a rather satisfying splat sound when it hit the back of Delilah's hair. Delilah's eyes opened wide and she put her hand to the back of her head as she turned around. The entire courtyard went silent.
"Holy shit, Del!" laughed Stan. Casey stood up and stared at Kit, then Delilah, then back to Kit. Jason, one of the more hot-headed members of the football team, stood up and threw his roll at the three outcasts. Casey ducked, and pulled out his camera, taking a quick picture of Delilah with mashed potatoes in her hair. Kit started laughing and picked up the half- eaten peach cobbler. She threw it back at the jock table.
"My hair!" cried Delilah in anguish, covering her head. Casey dove under the table, putting his camera away, out of range of flying mashed potatoes, creamed corn and peach cobbler. It was war. Food flew all around the courtyard, hitting both students and poor, unsuspecting lunch monitors.
Ten minutes later, Casey found himself by the water fountain, holding Kit's books.
"Here, hold the water on," she said. He shoved the button in with his finger, rather irritated. Kit flipped her head over the water stream and combed her fingers through her hair, rinsing out the creamed corn. Casey looked away, trying to pretend he didn't know her. Kit started laughing.
"That was priceless! Did you see their faces? And the way her face got all squinchy and peevish when she felt the potatoes in her hair?! It was perfect!"
She flipped her hair back up over her head, spraying Casey with the water. She held it up above her head and clipped it with a butterfly clip. Casey stared at the back of her neck, where her wet hair, looking almost black, curled into little ringlets at the nape of her neck, where wet brown hair turned into pale skin. He wondered if she had been dropped on her head as a child.
He avoided her for a week.
Author: Lea of Mirkwood
Rating: R, for language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Faculty. I only own Kit.
**************************************************************************** **********
September 2, 1998
"One! Two! Three! Go!"
Kit walked up the lawn of the school, eyes narrowed in confusion. She hurried in the direction of the voices, wondering if it was a cockfight from the circus or something equally amusing. It wasn't. Half the football team and some of the "burnouts" had found a favorite pastime. They had Casey lifted up like a battering ram, and, even though he was struggling, ran him against the flagpole with his legs open. They laughed and dropped him to the ground like a forgotten toy. Casey moaned in pain and curled up in the fetal position, and tried to sit back up. The rest of the aggressors picked up his schoolbooks and scattered them all over the ground. Kit squared her shoulders and marched towards the group, pushing past the small group of sadists who had come to watch.
"Get the fuck out of my way, you sons of bitches! Leave him the fuck alone!" she yelled angrily, making her way through.
"Jesus Christ, what a bitch," muttered Gabe, and another aggressor laughed.
"Little bastard isn't gonna be fucking anything anytime soon now!"
Kit smirked and walked directly up to him, looking straight into his eyes. She brought her knee up and kneed him in the groin. He groaned and bent over.
"Well neither are you," she snapped. "Serves you right, you asshole."
The crowd dispersed, losing interest. Kit crouched down next to Casey and put a hand on his shoulder, propping him up. "Hey...are you okay?" she asked, concerned. "Casey?"
He propped himself up a little, blinking rapidly and wincing.
"Yeah....I think so."
"Good," said Kit, standing up quickly. Casey dropped back down without her hand on his shoulder and hit the ground with a grunt of pain. Kit started packing up Casey's things again. A group of the cheerleaders walked by, Delilah at the front. Casey followed her with his eyes, staring with a kind of worship. Kit stood back up, dusting her hands off on her hips. She dropped Casey's olive colored messenger bag by his feet, and held out her hand. He took it and she pulled him up. Kit noticed, with some amusement, that he was about two inches shorter than her. She pushed her glasses up on top of her head.
"Kit O'Connell, by the way."
Casey nodded, and put his hand up to his nose. It came away bloody. He looked over at the girl, hoping she hadn't noticed. Too late.
"That...uhh..." she said, quite articulately. She reached out and removed his hand gently. She peered at Casey, making him feel very uncomfortable.
"It doesn't seem too bad!" she said cheerfully, having concluded her study of Casey's face. "No severe damage down south? That I'm not checking."
He swallowed. "Well...thank you," he said uncomfortably. Kit reached over and lightly brushed her thumb against his lower lip. He pulled back.
"No problem. Anytime those jerks try to get on your case, just yell, okay?"
Casey nodded, looking away. He felt so ashamed, having to be saved by the new kid, and to add to that, it was a girl. He turned and walked away.
--- --- ---
Whether by choice, or by chance, Casey and Kit stuck together. Casey, because he'd seen the damage Kit had done to those bullies, and Kit because she believed in strength in numbers. Not many people picked on either of them. It definitely wasn't a friendship. It was more of a mutual distaste for pain and humiliation. Unfortunately, their sixth period gym was the place where the theory of the buddy system failed. This was when pushpins found their way into Kit's gym shoes and wet, twisted towels slapped against Casey's backside, and he found himself locked in lockers or, since he had grown a bit over summer break, the new method was to shove him so hard into the locker he had vent marks imprinted on his face until seventh period. Kit went out to her car to eat lunch, Casey went to the bleachers. Casey was definitely put off by Kit and her energetic personality. Put bluntly, he didn't understand it, and sometimes it embarrassed him. The day they mutually decided that lunch together was a bad idea was the first and, as Casey passionately hoped, last day that they ate together at school. They sat down at Stokely's table.
"Hello, Stokely!" said Kit, putting her tray down.
"Hi Stokes," mumbled Casey, trying to ignore Kit. Stokely acknowleged their presence by nodding slightly, then returning to her book. Casey opened his brown bag lunch and began eating his egg salad sandwich. A few minutes of eating peacefully in silence and then it all went to hell.
"Why Stokely, I see you've finally found someone willing to be seen within a five foot radius of you," came Delilah's smug tone.
"Look where you're standing," muttered Kit around a mouthful of peach cobbler. Casey looked intently at his juice box as if the puzzle on the back told the secret of the universe. (42)
"Fuck off, bitch," replied Stokely with usual enthusiasm, which is, to say, not much.
"So violent. So, Stokely, I read a study that said lesbians are mostly violent when they are provoked. Can you help us? Do you think that theory is true?"
"Theory," echoed Kit. "That's a really big word for you Delilah."
"Oh, sticking up for your little lesbian lover? Are you a violent lesbian too?"
"Quite articulate. I congratulate you, Delilah," said Kit. "And no, I am not a lesbian. I prefer guys."
Delilah smirked. "Well, you won't be getting very far with Casey here," she mocked, reaching over to ruffle Casey's hair, who turned red at her touch. "He doesn't date."
"Did I say I was interested in Casey? No, I thought not. Why would you say he wouldn't date though? He's cute enough," asked Kit offhandedly, reaching over to tilt Casey's face up. "Well, maybe not when he's blushing so bad, but normally there's nothing wrong with him."
"He's gay!" yelled one of the guys on the football team, overhearing the conversation.
"Oh, how convenient," hissed Delilah. "You can scope out men together!" Before Kit, Casey, or Stokely could respond, she turned and started to walk away from their table. Kit stood up suddenly, green eyes flashing, and scooped up a generous amount of mashed potatoes and gravy on the cheap plastic spork. When Casey realized what she was going to do, it was already too late. Kit flung the potatoes at Delilah. It made a rather satisfying splat sound when it hit the back of Delilah's hair. Delilah's eyes opened wide and she put her hand to the back of her head as she turned around. The entire courtyard went silent.
"Holy shit, Del!" laughed Stan. Casey stood up and stared at Kit, then Delilah, then back to Kit. Jason, one of the more hot-headed members of the football team, stood up and threw his roll at the three outcasts. Casey ducked, and pulled out his camera, taking a quick picture of Delilah with mashed potatoes in her hair. Kit started laughing and picked up the half- eaten peach cobbler. She threw it back at the jock table.
"My hair!" cried Delilah in anguish, covering her head. Casey dove under the table, putting his camera away, out of range of flying mashed potatoes, creamed corn and peach cobbler. It was war. Food flew all around the courtyard, hitting both students and poor, unsuspecting lunch monitors.
Ten minutes later, Casey found himself by the water fountain, holding Kit's books.
"Here, hold the water on," she said. He shoved the button in with his finger, rather irritated. Kit flipped her head over the water stream and combed her fingers through her hair, rinsing out the creamed corn. Casey looked away, trying to pretend he didn't know her. Kit started laughing.
"That was priceless! Did you see their faces? And the way her face got all squinchy and peevish when she felt the potatoes in her hair?! It was perfect!"
She flipped her hair back up over her head, spraying Casey with the water. She held it up above her head and clipped it with a butterfly clip. Casey stared at the back of her neck, where her wet hair, looking almost black, curled into little ringlets at the nape of her neck, where wet brown hair turned into pale skin. He wondered if she had been dropped on her head as a child.
He avoided her for a week.