A/N: It's a viiio-lent pornography... choking chicks and sodomyyy... The kind of shit you that's on your T-V-ee-eee...
M'kay, I don't own Rocket Power and it's characters, only Lee. I never claimed I owned the rest, do don't sue me. Mer. My lip is itchy. ...Uh, anyway. On to the story! Again!
These are thoughts,
and
This is a sentence with a strain on a particular word.
Again, days had passed since the last documentation. Two, in fact. Indeed, Raymundo had almost exploded in anger at his adolescent son, therefore Otto had been sentenced to shifts at the Shore Shack until his suspension had been lifted. Lee, however, had gotten off easy, her mother knowing that she really couldn't stop her only daughter, and that if she tried, Lee would just rebel and do what she liked anyway. So, in Ms. Wickliffe's case, it was a no-win situation.
So Lee was left to do her own thing. Which was, until the present day, to shut up in her room, the only sign of life being her three-part ritual of a shower, a trip to the bathroom and a meal. The rest of the day was filled with the thump and roar of bass and guitar solos from the closed door of her room, with the occasional shouts of 'perfect!' and 'you're on fire!' heard from the television for the few hours that Lee managed to pull out the Dance Dance Revolution mat for.
Sick of hearing the one song her daughter insisted on playing almost hourly - 'Wake Me Up When September Ends', by Green Day - Ms. Wickliffe had no choice but to kick Lee out on the street for the day. Although, with cash in hand (well, pocket), music in her ears, and her board under her feet, Lee really wasn't that bothered.
That was a few hours ago. Right now Lee was seated at the Shore Shack, at one of the tables closest to the boardwalk, the track crashing from her headphones - alas, the song that was on the verge of being banned at her household, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' - interupted by the noise of the crowds hurrying past. Screeching children, pleading parents, tourists either chattering in nasally tones or stunted English, and locals who were either too old or young for school, or those who had chosen to be truants for the day.
One thick-tongued skate shoe restlessly pushing her skateboard to and fro under the table, Lee picked at her lunch with a pair of freshly home-manicured fingernails, lips barely moving as she mouthed the lyrics silently. Sliding one chilli cheese fry between her lips, she rolled her shoulders, feeling the thin material of her black hoodie shift against her upper arms, as it was rolled up to the elbows. Greyscale camouflage tank top had a small red and white logo of a tree in a circle printed in a bottom corner, and black cargo pants were demolished into shreds by the time they reached her shoes. She twisted her position to stop the buckle of her two-row pyramid belt from stabbing the soft skin of her stomach, munching down a couple more chips.
Lee leant backwards, until her shoulderblades were pressed against the back of the chair, ignoring the still searing pain that ripped through her spine, arms looping around the back, disinterested gaze wandering across the faces of the crowd, seeing if she recognised anyone, which was highly unlikely. Upper teeth pulled at her lower lip, and enough thoughts were clouding her mind as a distraction that she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling into her hoodie. Turning her head, a sharp glare was fixed on whoever had startled her. Much to her dismay, it was Lars. With a brief snarl, one of her own hands rose to pluck the headphones from her ears - the battery had faded while she was listening to it, anyway.
He lowered his head to be eye level with her, still standing. Cocky grin was playing on his lips. "Wagging, are we?"
Swiveling her head to stare absently ahead of her, trying to shut out the undeniably attractive face that was so close from her mind, she muttered in response. "I have an excuse, y'know." She heard Lars pull out a chair, sidling up to her casually. "I'm meant to be absent from school - what's your excuse?"
His elbows dropped to the table top, one palm cupped to hold his chin. "I have much better things to do."
Despite the fact she didn't really care in the least, she asked anyway. "Like what?"
"Like chase down little chicas like you."
"Oh, fuck off."
"Aw, c'mon, Lee. Don't bother trying playing hard to get."
Her teeth grated together at his utterly confident tone. "You're sadly mistaken, Lars. I'm not playing hard to get, I'm just showing typical signs of disinterest."
His tongue flicked to play with his lip ring, silenced at least for a little while. Time to rethink my strategy, he thought softly. Eyes scanned across the tables and counter, and crossed Otto's own gaze.
Otto scowled in return to Lars' half-lidded, all-knowing glance. He was wiping his soap-sudded hands off slowly, having noticed the conversation, eyebrows furrowed. It was bad enough Lee was still here after about fourty minutes of ordering, but Lars attempting to woo her made it even worse. It was, in a way, a jealousy on Otto's part. He felt no positive feelings towards Lee, but he was blinded by anger by seeing Lars move in on her. It had been the same on the day of the fight. Otto had spied them chatting during lunchtime, and had felt the same flare of frustration that had made him attack Lee in the first place. God, he thinks he's such a womanizer. Truth was, it was relatively true. Times were different now. Lars wasn't 'gross' anymore. He was an older, rough, badassed Latino with a car. He had a way of talking that seemed to make most girls melt. He seemed to feel no guilt when it came to sleeping around, unlike Otto. Hell, Otto had barely done anything sexual, despite what the pen scrolls across desks and cubicles stated.
Lars spied the Rocket's lingering look at the two, pursed his lips and smirked, before making a nuzzling motion to Lee's neck, chin resting on her shoulder. With a low growl, Otto threw down his teatowel, stalking into the back, disappearing out of sight behind a swinging door, just before Lee's palm swung, cracking Lars across the face. He barely flinched, his fingers rubbing the mark slowly.
"What in the fucking Hell do you think you're doing?" Lee hissed, her chair squealing against the floor as she slid a couple of inches further away from him. Her irritation was broken for a period of around five seconds as she fed herself a few more fries, before growling Lars' way again.
The Rodriguez boy shrugged limply. "Trying a new strategy."
"Well you," she gestured towards him with a fry angrily, "Can take your strategies and shove them up your ass." Sliding her skateboard towards her, she stood hurriedly, brushing her fringe away from her eyes, a harsh look directed towards him.
Hand shot forward to grab her by the wrist. Her heart starting to pound, adrenalin beginning to shoot through her body, she halted. Teeth ground together behind her thin-pressed lips. If this had been any other time, she would've started a fight then and there. But she was still sore, and obviously no match for Lars. He had about four or five inches advantage in height, and even if she could meet him in speed, he could overpower her without trying. Not to mention he'd most likely turn it into a sexual encounter. "Let me the fuck go."
"Hear me out, at least."
"Why, though? Why? It's a one-sided chase."
Lars sighed inwardly. He wasn't used to trying this hard. Usually girls were flattered to have his attention, and fell into his arms like a placid milking cow. Lee was somewhat like a wild horse in comparison: not one to be tamed easily, and not letting just anyone get near enough to touch her. He stood up as well, angled close, fingers still around her wrist. His eyes met hers calmly, any tint of seduction seemingly vanished from his face. "Spend the day with me."
She scoffed under her breath. "Is that an order?"
His expression stayed neutral. Scanning her face, his tone was soft. "Believe it or not, my... well, new aim with you isn't sexual."
Meanwhile, Otto was slamming down wet dishes with such ferocity it was luck that they weren't cracking. Shoving his hands back in the water, ignoring the splash that threatened to wetten his clothes, her continued scrubbing. He smacked down another plate, and he heard a voice at his side.
"Hey, little cuz', those plates aren't made to withstand teenage anger," Tito chuckled, drying a couple of plates casually as Otto narrowed his eyes down at the suds, "What eating you, Rocket boy?"
His jaw went tight. "Don't worry, Tito."
"You sure?"
Silence followed for roughly half a minute, before Otto sighed, long and hard. "It's that girl out there. Lee. That's the girl that got me suspended."
Tito nodded slightly. He was slightly surprised. The Lee he had seen was mild-tempered, almost quiet to the point of being timid. "A bit of a wild temper, is she?"
"Fiery? More like a complete bitch. It was bad enough I had to serve her, and she's been here for freaking ages... NowLars is cracking onto her every chance he gets. Every. Freaking. Chance."
Crash, clatter, bang. Another few dishes went down, and another few were stacked as Tito dried them. "Perhaps little Rocket cuz' likes this wild girl?"
Otto halted. "Are youkidding me? Ihate her! I barely know her, and I FREAKING HATE HER! Next time she won't get out of it so easily. I'll see her in the street, or on the beach, or something... and she won't know what hit her."
Tito's eyebrows knitted. No matter how much Otto enjoyed revenge, he still didn't encourage it. His grudges have gotten him in trouble too many times - whether it was with his peers, their parents, the school or even the police. "I know this won't go through your head, like the thousand times before that it has been said, but revenge is not the best option, little Otto cuz'. You know that."
It was like Otto hadn't even heard Tito. He growled, venting more to himself than Tito. "Hopefully Lars dumps her right away or something, and she gets all torn up. Hell, she's not evengood enoughfor Lars. Not near. How dare she give me crap. I swear she'll pay. Why the Hell is Lars moving in on her, anyway? What the hell does hesee in her? She's a bitch through and through!"
A loud sigh interrupted him long enough for his eyes to wander to Tito's face, questioning. Tito's eyes went wistful, and Otto knew what was coming, rolling his eyes in advance. "The Ancient Hawaiians once said: 'the hermit crab will envy the other crab's shell, even if he does not wish for it to be his own'. Get what I mean, Rocket cuz'?"
Otto turned back to his rubber-gloved hands, submerged underneath the murky water. "Yeah, whatever you say Tito."
Head turned away, she glanced back through her eyelashes, obscure thoughts ran through her head in a daze, jumbled, barely decipherable. She yanked her wrist away, but stayed put. "What do I get out of this?"
"A night out, a ride, a friendship?" Maybe - probably - something more. I'll tempt you, Lee Wickliffe. I will.
Lee bit her lip. She hadn't made any ongoing friends since moving here, really. She hadn't talked to Reggie and Sam since she first met them, and figured neither of them would want to speak, considering how close they seemed to Otto. Lars had hit her where it hurt - she wouldn't admit it, but she needed a friend. He had figured that. Lars had better perception techniques than most people would've guessed.
Her eyes downcast, still masked by a thick veil of lashes, her brow furrowed. I know something's going to blow up in my face because of this... "Fine." She squared her shoulders, looking him eye to eye. "Take me away."
A/N: Sha-lalalalalalalalala-di-da. My brown-eyed girl.
Anyway. Not so proud of this chapter, as it's rather slow, but it's just a lead-in to some main parts of the story. Every story's slow in some parts (okay, I'm just making excuses for my lack of writing ability). Heheheh. Lee finally caved. Lars strikes again! They'll both regret this...
Please review!
Review responses:
WhATs hER NaME 9613: Haha, that's society for you. Blame society! Heheh. Lars'd probably hit on anyone and everyone, but I get what you mean. Lee seems his kind of girl in ways of attitude. Agh, I KNOW! Otto is so full of himself. Ah, well. It's fun to play on in stories. X) Hehehe. I'll have to mention Elise soon. Ohoh. I drew a picture of Lee and Elise. I'll have to e-mail it to you. Elise probably doesn't look right, but, eh. And, yes, get on with the story. I demand ye! -whipcrack-