Few A/N's:

Okay, first of all… Thank you to Raven, Sapphy, and everyone else who has actually poked me to update this story. You guys care, and y'know? It's beautiful.

And a special THANK YOU to Bitter for musing on me. You know I love ya, chica.

So without any further gilding the lily, I present to you:

FAST TIMES AT DUANE STREET HIGH

Chapter FIVE: A "Bittersweet" Invitation

By Monday, the excitement over Duane Street's victory over Irving had quelled itself. The jocks and popular kids had partied themselves unconscious. The drama kids had celebrated the cast list of Romeo and Juliet. The brains had immersed themselves in their textbooks all weekend. And the badasses, as always, were indifferent.

When you walk into Duane Street High School, like it or not, you're met by a bunch of drama freaks. The main entrance was also near the auditorium entrance: the foundation for this eccentric little group. Everyone was either being loud, singing RENT or Wicked show tunes, or just reveling in their differentness.

And this group—the drama kids—was where Melody "Bitter" Conlon made her first move.

Bitter was one of those kids that was a definite floater. She was just crafty enough to wriggle her way into just about every social clique. She'd be studious with the future valedictorian candidates. She could play enough chords on her brother's guitar to be accepted among the musical talents. And she'd be damned if she couldn't roll a joint just as well as any of the potheads.

Her brother Spot was the reigning badass supreme of Duane Street, and as a result she inherited a lot of his punkish, "screw you" attitudes. Her cropped coif was just as blue as her brother's eyes; her own eyes liked to be green on occasion. The squeaking of her black Converse All-Stars was a trademark indicator of her impending presence.

Today she wore her favorite blue low-riders with about fifteen million holes in them and a semi-baggy Incubus t-shirt—the latter a clear theft from Spot's closet. She'd normally wear her cleavage-baring corsets and fishnets, but since Principal Seitz yelled at her last week, she had to abandon such things.

"Hey," she greeted the drama kids with a subtle nod, clutching a massive stack of fliers as blue as her spiky 'do.

Blink was the first person to notice. "Uh, what's up, Bitter?"

With a very nonchalantly extended arm, Bitter displayed a sizable section of the stack of fliers. "Here. Check it out; I'm throwing a party on Friday." She nodded to the surrounding cluster of drama kids. "Pass 'em out?"

She then gave Blink a tight-lipped smile and walked away, remembering to appease the drama folks by singing a little bit of Phantom of the Opera:

"Masquerade, paper faces on parade… Masquerade… Hide your face so the world will never find you… doo doo doo…"

---

If you were brave enough to be unmoved by the drama kids, you may be bogged down by the brains. The library wasn't too far away, and naturally every straight-A student congregated near it to do that last-minute check to make sure their bibliographies were in MLA format.

David Jacobs, the "coolest" of the group, leaned against a pillar. He was talking to fellow bookworm Ivan Konikoff, whom everyone called "Dutchy," which was odd, since Dutchy was actually Ukranian.

The guys' conversation was abruptly ended by Bitter's ever-imposing presence. The brainiacs felt okay with letting her in the group, even if she did only make a 3.8 GPA last year.

"Hey Bitter," David greeted, squinting at the blue stack of papers. "Is that your Emerson report for English class?"

This only threw Bitter off for a moment. Shit. That was due today, wasn't it? "Uh, no." She thumbed through and counted out about half the amount of fliers she'd distributed among the drama kids. "I'm, uh, holding a study group for calculus on Friday night. My address is right on these fliers." Smirking, she pressed them into David's hand. "Give 'em out. It'll be fun."

---

For some bizarre reason, the English hall was the notorious center for the popular kids. Every member of the football team was there, still gloating and still hung over from the victory party that they would have held, even if they'd lost the game. Not like they'd ever lose, though.

Oscar Delancey was obviously there, his arm wrapped possessively around Sarah as he started cracking jokes to Mush and Skittery about how many keg stands he did.

"Swear to God, I was passed out in Skitts' bathtub until Sunday night!" he crowed, somehow proud of his little brush with alcohol poisoning.

The roar among the elitist crowd only slightly dulled with the subtle fanfare of squeaking sneakers, signaling Bitter's entrance.

"Like you never pass out for two days," she teased. Badmouthing someone was always the culturally proper way for anyone to enter the A-crowd.

Mush eyed the stack of fliers. "You tryin' to spread vegetarian propaganda again, Bitter?"

"Cute, Meyers. No, actually…" She handed out the biggest stack to him. "I'm throwing a party Friday night." When no one responded, she added the kicker: "Free beer."

"Count me in!" Skittery laughed, taking a flier eagerly, eyeing it.

Bitter smirked. Mission accomplished for the A-crowd. "Kick-ass. Tell your friends."

---

She continued her quest along the hallways, bypassing the library and heading into the commons, which was essentially an outside courtyard just past the cafeteria. It was here where the potheads, class clowns, and rebels all laid claim to different territories around the massive oak tree.

After basically handing a stack to the nearest pothead, a guy that oddly went by the nickname Pie Eater after he'd gotten high and indulged himself in about five whole apple pies, she approached the class clowns, the cut-ups. At the center of these kids was Racetrack, clouded with a few "fans," among them Sapphy, Mayo, Fantasy, and Puck.

"Bittah!" Race's Boston accent always made everything he said that much funnier. "What brings you to the neighborhood?"

Bitter fended her way past a tight wall of Sapphy and Puck to approach him. "Wanna come to a party?"

Sapphy blinked, looking at Bitter as though to determine if she was worthy enough of coming near Race. "Party?" Her eyes, almost as blue as Bitter's hair, sparkled inquisitively.

"Just a get-together," she said with a smirk and a sort of indifferent shrug. "Thought we could watch the American Pie trilogy or something."

Race frowned, taking the few fliers that Bitter offered to him. "Okay," he said. "Friday night?" He nodded reflectively. "Mmkay. We'll be there."

---

"What do you want?" Spot's eyes became downgrading little slits at the appearance of his little sister to his group. He casually unslipped his arm around Raven, who had taken a semi-hiatus from her usual drama group to hang around with Spot and the rest of the rebels.

Bitter feigned the same apathy that seemed to be the consensus among the group. "Nothin'. Just wanted to remind you that Mom and Dad are going out of town Thursday."

Her brother shrugged a bit. "Yeah, okay. Thanks. Now scurry along…"

She thrust the last chunk of the flier stack to him proudly. "So I'm having a party."

Raven took one of the fliers and held it in front of her face at a distance, as though it were tacky with wet paint. "Aww," she said in a mocking voice, "how cute. Your sister's throwing a party!"

"Gimme that!" Spot snatched it from her. He frowned at it. "Kinda boring, wouldn't you say? All we got here's an address and a date."

"Well, I had to work the crowds. Had to put enough spin on it so everyone'll come." She nodded brightly, smirking triumphantly at her brother. "Ain'tcha proud of me?"

Spot still couldn't get over the fact that his sister had taken advantage of their parents' business trip before he did. "You'd better not screw things up," he said, "or I'll be the first to tell Mom and Dad."

"…And I'll be the first to immediately tell them of the lovely little 'sleepovers' you keep having with Raven." She gave him a triumphantly pointed look.

Raven was slackjawed, taking her cigarette from her lips and just staring at Spot and Bitter simultaneously. "What the hell…?"

"Okay," Spot rushed out in frustration. "My lips are sealed."

All righty. Until next time, guys! Send those reviews in and I just might update sooner than you think!