Oh my word, I'm so horrid. Despite loving reviews, I just didn't even start to work on the next chapter until Bitter gave me some lovely inspiration. (blows kisses to her)
ANYWAY. This is gonna be a long chappie, so have fun!
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FAST TIMES AT DUANE STREET HIGH
Chapter SEVEN: Cliques Collide
It was like a scene from some kind of old monster movie, or perhaps even reminiscent of the scene in Beauty and the Beast when Gaston and his cronies bash in the Beast's castle with a giant battering ram. Whatever it looked like, Skittery brought up the lead as a massive keg rammed its way into the door.
The recently arrived partying kids, usually seen with the football teams, crowed with delight at the sight of the stainless steel drum of alcoholic goodness. The party had officially begun.
"They sure as hell better not spill any on the tapestry rug," Spot muttered in a last attempt at responsibility before he joined the throng of flocking partiers, red plastic cup in hand.
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Right at the corner, a familiar Mustang peeled into the sea of cars clogging up the court where Bitter's world-famous house party was well into swing.
"Guess the party started without us," Jack muttered with a chuckle, smiling over at Stagey, who looked a little nervous in the passenger seat. "What's the matter?"
Her head whipped around to look at him, forcing a smile. "Huh? Oh, I'm okay…" She grinned a little awkwardly. "I'm just used to D.C. parties is all."
"Is that all you're worried about?" Jack smirked at her. "Don't you worry, Stagey. You'll get plenty of party at a Duane Street party, believe you me."
He navigated the 'Stang between Mush's Lexus and an '88 Volvo, probably belonging to someone who actually bought his own car, rushing to the other side to free the door on Stagey's side.
This gentlemanly gesture made her smirk a little. "Wow, I'm not used to that."
"Well, uh… that door only opens on the outside…"
Her face fell a bit. "Right; of course."
A girl with dark, Italian features was leaning on the porch, already on her fifth straight cup of beer. "Jaa-ack…" she slurred with a grin. "You made it!"
"That's Ray Tortulo," Jack whispered the brief introduction to Stagey, moving towards the house. "Yep," he called in a louder voice, "here I am!"
With a slight amount of balancing on her stiletto heels, Ray plodded to Jack with the intent to embrace him, instead stumbling into him. For some reason this was wildly funny.
"Whee!" she shrieked in a high-pitched voice. "C'mon in, c'mon in!" she said uneasily, desperate to be a good co-hostess, making big arm motions in the direction of the house.
Stagey just laughed to herself, readjusting her silk lacy tank as she tried to keep up before the door was closed.
Despite Jack's reasonable popularity, his entrance was quietly unnoticed by everyone. Instinctively, he tugged Stagey's elbow closer to him—not in a possessive sense, but rather a protective sense. She still didn't know just how drunk people got at Bitter's parties.
In the smaller living room, huddled like fearful puppies, were the smart kids. They looked contemplative, wondering whether or not to bail out. David Jacobs, the unofficial leader of the group, had cool and collected face, which meant these kids were going nowhere.
Jack gave them a brief nod—after all, the brains were people too—and progressed down the hall to the bigger main room, the den, where a pulsating strobe light and thumping bass of Linkin Park's "Numb/Encore" made the floor feel ravaged by a slight earthquake.
"Honestly, is Linkin Park ever going to come up with anything new?" he said in a slightly loud whisper in Stagey's ear, desperate to get her to loosen up.
"STAGEY!"
In a lightning-fast move, Stagey was tackled by a bouncy redhead with a camisole blue enough to match the color of her eyes.
"Sapphy!" Stagey grinned, relieved that some recognizable faces were present at this party. "Are you here with Mayo and Race?"
With a lilting laugh, making a beer or two evident in her system, Sapphy laughed. "No! Just Race! He's my date tonight." Her eyes lit up, tugging Stagey into the midst of the dance floor. "Dance with me!"
Stagey grinned and followed Sapphy in the cluster of grinding teenagers, giving Jack a "go ahead, I'll be fine" look as she was sucked in.
"Nice," Jack muttered to himself with a fascinated smile, walking into the kitchen with a little laugh. "Blink!" he called with a nod to the eye patch-wearing kid near the kitchen counter. "You ever gonna take that damn thing off?"
"And lose my trademark? Hell no!" Blink laughed, handing Jack one of the red party cups everyone had. "Here. Saved ya some."
Jack took it nonchalantly, tipping it up just a bit. "Thanks man." His eyes scanned the party. "Bitter outdid herself again, I see."
"I heard my name!" An electric-blue coiffure bounced amidst all the rest, moving towards Jack and Blink. "Hey there, Jack! When did you show up?"
"Coupla' minutes ago." He took another sip of beer.
Bitter beamed, scanning her party with a proud smirk when all of a sudden her face fell. "Oh, damn it," she groaned. "Who invited Sarah the Cheating Whore?"
Jack flinched, afraid to look at the girl he knew Bitter must have been talking about. His eyes refused to listen to his brain, however, and thusly landed on a hair-tossing Sarah Jacobs, undulating her hips against Oscar Delancey in the dining room in an attempt at a lap dance.
"Shit," he hissed angrily, chugging the rest of his beer.
Blink's visible eye widened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there buddy!" He patted Jack on the shoulder. "How's about I get you another?"
He nodded a little, fixing his fitted Ramones t-shirt uneasily. "Yeah, all right. But just one more. I'm driving tonight."
"Always the man with a brain," Bitter said proudly. "Like that one time last year when—"
She was cut off by an infuriated Spot barging into the kitchen. "Bitter! Skittery just spewed half a keg of Budweiser all over the laundry room floor! Go get some paper towels!"
She closed her eyes in exasperation. "Jesus. I'll see you guys later. Enjoy my party!" Her blue-coiffed head moved through the sea of people.
"Later, Bitter!" Blink called energetically.
Jack remained quiet, his eyes fixed on his tipsy ex-girlfriend giving his mortal enemy a lap dance. Shit. His right hand clenched into an angry fist as he punched the wall nearby. He had to hit something. And, try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to hit Sarah for this.
Blink took notice of this distress, bringing Jack back around to face him. "C'mon, man. This is a party. Let's go find someplace fun, huh?"
With an angry mutter, Jack followed Blink down into the basement, where a group of drama kids were blaring "La Vie Boheme" from the Rent soundtrack:
"…To being an 'us' for once, instead of a 'them'…"
Jack couldn't help but smirk. He felt at home now as he crowed in a loud voice: "LA VIE BOHEMMME!"
Everyone cheered and applauded at this entrance. Jack's chest swelled with pride as he collapsed next to Bumlets on the couch.
"Where you been?" Bumlets said with a laugh. "We all thought you were gonna be up there with the A-crowd."
"My ex is bein' a whore," he muttered, rubbing his temples, his head feeling a little unstable after chugging an entire cup of beer at once.
Blink shrugged. "Man, that's what I've been tryin' to tell you all along. I never did like her. But that Stagey chick on the other hand… I mean, I'd bang 'er."
Jack's eyes shot open, assuming a protective air. "Hey, look! No one's gonna be bangin' Stagey."
"…If Jack don't get any, no one gets any." Bumlets snorted out a laugh.
"Where is Stagey, anyhow?"
He shrugged. "Last I saw her, she was off with Sapphy."
Bumlets smirked. "Some date you are."
"I ain't her date!" Jack muttered defensively, folding his arms tightly against his chest, fiddling with his LiveStrong bracelet awkwardly.
A pair of sky blue, strappy sandals clicked down the basement stairs urgently behind them. Sapphy, the wearer of the stylish shoes, had frantic eyes. "Jack! Come quick! It's Stagey!"
This caused Jack to spring up. "Stagey! What the hell did you to do to her, Sapphy? Is she hurt or somethin'?"
Sapphy flinched. "Er, not exactly… but, uh…"
"Where is she!"
She closed her eyes, worried Jack was going to maul her. "I let her have a few beers and now she's totally giving everyone a table dance in the dining room… You gotta help me get her down before she passes out or something!"
Before all the straight guys in the room could spring up at the mention of a table dance in the dining room, Jack leapt over the sofa, running with Sapphy up the stairs and going into the dining room.
The stereo was ironically thudding "Tipsy" as a more-than-just-tipsy Stagey was executing every move in the book on the dining room table. Congregated around her were Skittery, Mush, Oscar, and everyone else associated with the football team. In a corner, Sarah was sulking, clearly peeved that this new kid was stealing her thunder.
"Your new little girlfriend is being a total slut," she muttered as Jack walked past her.
This caused Jack to turn around with flashing eyes in Sarah's direction. "She's being a slut, Sarah? She's being the slut!"
"Just let it go, Jack," Sapphy coaxed him, leading him away and up to the table. "Stagey, hon? Time to come down…"
Blissfully oblivious, Stagey kept undulating to the music, paying no heed to Sapphy's coaxing. All she could hear in her swimming head was the blasting beat and the whistles and catcalls from the football players and their friends.
"Stagey!" Jack called to her. "Stagey, c'mon! Get offa there before you hurt yourself!"
Stagey coolly turned her head to Jack and Sapphy, a drunken bliss on her face. "I'm not gonna get hurt!" she said, laughing wildly as she proceeded to dry hump the table surface. Once she got up, the gravity of the amount of beer she'd consumed in the last twenty minutes hit her. "Whoa. I don't feel so good…"
It all happened in slow motion as Stagey staggered backward, snapping one of her heels to send her into a backwards tumble. Jack helplessly held open his arms to catch a freshly passed-out Stagey.
"What're you going to do?" Sapphy asked the reluctant Jack.
He looked a little bewildered, looking down at Stagey's limp form. "Uh, I'd better take 'er outside before she gets sick…"
Sarah snarled at him. "What a lightweight," she muttered, sipping her new refill of beer. "She's probably faking it anyway."
Jack's eyes flashed angrily, but before he could retort, a drunken Ray's voice echoed in the doorway:
"YOU TRYIN' TO START SOMETHING, WHORE JACOBS?"
Jack turned his back, carrying Stagey away as the beginnings of a catfight initiated themselves behind him. He looked down at Stagey's limp form resting in his arms, totally bewildered.
"What the hell do I do now?"
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TA DA! (big grin) Now then. Want to know what happens after Stagey's classic 10 Things I Hate About You-inspired table dance? Well, send some reviews my way!
After all, all the cool kids are doing it. You wanna be cool, don't you?