She was never caught up, like the rest of the rats in a maze
"Check me out" she said, "I'm in a concrete jungle,
I'm an individual and you're stuck in my waste"
Oh hell no, she knows what the truth is, because she said so
She knows who her friends are so fuck you, don't get no closer,
It'll only make her run far away…
– from Red Hot Moon by Rancid

Monday – The yellow bus pulled up in front of the large stone school, and students began to pile out almost as soon as the door opened. Somewhere in this line of yawning, slumping, ever-so-eager teenagers; Casey stepped off the bus, followed close behind by Sam, who slipped beside him as soon as their was enough room to do so, and fell into step.

They'd already formed their own little pack, a silent understanding, just that quickly, that bound them together, two outcast united against everyone else… though, still, Casey did not feel completely comfortable with this…

There was still that stab of doubt, of fear, pecking upward from underneath his flesh. It was a feeling, a mistrust, a coldness built by years and years or torment and betrayal, that he could not escape even if he tried and, in all honesty, he didn't even really know how to try.

The two walked at a steady pace down the cement path, and Casey did his morningly ritual of staring dreamily at Delilah as she stood at the head of her little circle of cheerleader friends and they discussed what they were going to do at practice or at the next game or something dumb like that as they did ever morning.

Sam took a hesitant peak, thinking she shouldn't, at the head cheerleader… and couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at how ungodly beautiful Delilah looked, even in something as simple as a lilac-colored sundress… and by the time her eyes trained back up, she saw the guy prepare to do it but had no time to stop him before the deed was already done.

A chubby guy with a greasy black mop for hair (whom we'll call Peter) raised his arm while Casey wasn't looking and snapped it back to elbow him straight in the nose. Casey stumbled back, tripped, and fell on his backside.

Sam glared and brought her arm back, slugging Pete so hard in the side of the face one could hear his jaw pop out, and then (lucky for both of them, actually) pop back in, as he stumbled and fell to the ground.

When Sam turned back, Casey had already hoisted himself up to a sitting position and was dabbing his nose with the back of his hand to check if he was bleeding. She crouched down beside him.

"You okay?" she whispered. Casey nodded while bringing his hand away from his face and looking at it. He wasn't bleeding… this time. Sam nodded and helped him to stand up.

Peter began to shout profanities at her as soon as they began to walk away, which she promptly ignored and carried on. They only made it about a dozen or two steps before they saw Stokely trudging over the grass towards the school. Sam smiled at her, and waved.

Stokely stopped walking for a minutes, as did Casey and Sam. "… Did you do that?" she asked, gesturing towards Peter with her eyes. Sam nodded. "Oh… nice job." She started walking again.

Sam turned to Casey, shrugged, and he smiled, and they began walking again, Sam resting a friendly hand on Casey's shoulder… and the farther they went; the more Casey felt comfortable with Sam… how odd… but it was never long before you run into someone on Harrington's campus.

"Hey!" A guy they both recognized from English 101 called, waving his arm in the air to grasp their attention. They both slowed to a stop. "Why don't you two get a room?"

"I know that a gesture like that may seem very sexual to you, Gregory," Sam began. "But, to a normal human being who can actual get laid; it's really nothing."

She followed that up with a small smile and stretched her arm around Casey's shoulders, giving him a nudge to tell him it was time to go now. Gregory just stood there, arms out at his sides, with his mouth opened and an offended look on his face, before he finally managed to say anything at all, which ended up being: "It's Greg…"

Casey began to expel a high-pitch giggle put clamped a hand over his mouth as though he believed he shouldn't or perhaps they'd hurt him if he did or something. Sam gave him a smile that was just short of a chuckle. She dropped her arm off of Casey's shoulders as they reached the front steps and began to climb them.

Sam gave the door a pull but nothing happened. She tried again but still it didn't budge so she tried the other door… same thing.

"It's not open yet," Casey observed quietly.

"We're early?" Sam gasped. "That's a first!"

But it was of no matter. She swung down and sat on the stone boarder on the left side of the stairs, and Casey sat on the steps, just one up from beside her so that he'd be on a closer level, and they began to chat and laugh about nothing in particular… but neither noticed the pair of steely eyes, watching from afar…

Tye was the possessor of those eyes, standing with his back against a tree's body, hands jammed in his pockets, stray pieces of slick hair hanging down his forehead… he'd be the perfect image of a 50's bad boy if his hair was dark and he traded in his school jacket for a black biker one.

He grimaced as he watched them, two scraggly little freaks; they made a perfect couple if you could use the word perfect in the same setting as them. They disgusted him! Especially that girl, Sam… he'd actually thought she was cute at one point in time… that was before he discovered who she really was. He'd tried to warn Delilah but she wouldn't listen… she knew now.

Jesus, Sam could have had everything! Popularity, a place with The In Crowd, a spot on the cheerleading squad, friends like Delilah and Tina, everything! But no; she turned it all down… and if that wasn't enough to make her a total sewer mutant; it was that she'd turned it down for Casey Connor… for the school wuss, the school loser, the school punching bag… and now she wouldn't let anybody in on him… not a punch, not a poling, not even an insult which he obviously deserved.

What a fucking whore, Tye snarled and felt the urge to spit on the ground for there was a foul taste in his mouth, the taste of his disgust and hatred, pure and white and pumping through his veins, taking over his blood's job.

And that wasn't even the worst of all… it was what she'd done to him that was the worst. She'd hurt him; she'd embarrassed him, in public! A pretty little girl like that turned him into a violated throbbing nerve mass right in front of the school where anyone could watch, and he knew everyone saw… and if they didn't see; they knew anyway. They just knew.

… After all these things; it was obvious that she deserved what was coming to her. It wasn't his fault, no; he wasn't doing anything wrong… he was just making sure she paid the price for her actions. It was Newton's Law, right? "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction", even he could have told you that…

Yes, she would took a fall… and if this fall worked out any way he had it planned she would not only take a fall but she could crash and burn, too.

The bell signaling the end of third period sounded. Students immediately began to stand up and put themselves back together and leave the room for their lockers and/or fourth period classes.

Sam stood up, but merely moments after she began to gather her things Mrs. Olson's voice brought her attention back to the head of the class.

"Not you," the teacher announced smoothly above the muttered voices and thumping shoes and other noises of the students leaving. She had the fingers of her right hand pointing to three different students… one of which was Sam.

Casey quickly finished picking up his things and walked around to Sam. He gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. "Go on, Casey, you don't wanna be late. I'll catch up with you later…"

He frowned, but nodded and did so anyway, slowly leaving the class with the rest of the students. When everyone had left and things were finally quiet, the three students that had been asked to stay were gestured by Mrs. Olson to come up to her desk.

Sam looked at the other two students… the first one was a tall girl, about 5'11", with spiky strawberry hair and hazel eyes… the second was a guy with short, curly, dark auburn hair and brown eyes, and it was clear to see by the way he walked and carried himself and just about everything else that he was a jock.

She rested her hands, in loose fists, palm side down on the desk and turned her vision from her fellow students to her teachers.

"Now, you were absent for the test I gave two weeks ago," Mrs. Olson opened. "I understand Ms. Warren because she is new here but I really need that test from all three of you… considering there is not a game this weekend," she shot a look at the curly-haired jock. "Which is why I could not reassign it to you last weekend; I was hoping that you could all stay after school Friday and take it then… anyone apposed?"

"Nope," the red-haired girl muttered.

"No, Ms. Olson," said the curly-haired jock.

"Righy-o, Mrs. O," Sam chirped.

"Good," the teacher nodded. "Hurry up now and get to your next classes, then… see you all tomorrow."

The teenagers shrugged and headed for the door. The blonde punk reached it first and flew into the halls unpleasantly… the curly-haired jock reached it next, but stopped and held it open for Sam.

A gentleman jock, she thought sarcastically; He's an oxymoron… and here I was, thinking he was just a normal moron. How silly of me…

"Hey," he said, slipping through the door after her.

"Hello, Sparky."

"I'm Stan ­­Rosado…" He waited. She said nothing. "… So what's your name?"

"Like you don't already know," she said, a thin line of hostility below her voice.

"No," he said, walking in step with her down the hall. "I don't…"

"Sure you don't, Sparky," she wrinkled her nose at him and gave him an overly sweet smile, before turning a corner sharply.

"My name's Stan," he repeated, following her around this corner, even though her pace had quickened quite a bit.

"I like Sparky better."

"Fine," he began in a bargaining tone. "Tell me you're name, and I'll let you call me Sparky."

"And how would you stop me?"

"I have my ways…"

She stopped and looked at him, raising one brow and lowering the other. "… Is that a threat, Sparky?"

"No," he shrugged a little. She rolled her eyes and began walking again. He stumbled, suddenly, to fall into pace with her again. "Would you just tell me your name, please?"

"Why?"

"Because I wanna know."

"Beg."

"Just tell me!" he was losing patience, now.

She looked at him again, and seemed to ponder for a minute, before a smirk returned to her face and her eyes fell forward again. "Alright… I'll tell you, just for the fun of it…"

He waited, then gesture impatiently.

"Sam," she held her chin up.

"Oh, come on! I gave you a full name."

"Don't push it, Sparky," but, after a short pause, she told him anyway. "Samantha Warren, alright, now will you leave me alone?"

"I just found out your name and now you want me to leave you alone?"

"Damn straight."

"Hey, come on," he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She shot him a deadly look and clenched the hand of that arm into a fist. "You're new here and I just want to get to know you, alright? It's not gonna kill you…"

"No," she purred. "But it will hurt me, because it will hurt my friend. You're a jock; it's as plain to the eyes as night and day, and all you jocks are the same. You're popular; there for you're in on Delilah's disgusting little game."

"What are you talkin' about?"

Sam shook her head, scoffed, jerked her arm free, and began to walk at the same speed down the hall, swaying her hips and arms dangerously.

"Hey, wait!" Stan called, jogging back up to her. "Would you just listen to me? What did I ever do to you? Or this friend of yours? I'm a good guy, okay, I don't just go around pounding random people in to dust."

Sam stopped for a moment… that wasn't a total lie. She'd never seen Stan hurt Casey before… and Casey had never once said a word about Stan… of course, he hadn't told Sam much at all about anything… it was all hidden deep inside him, behind a thick, mottled curtain, pieced together and put up for a shield around his fragile heart.

… Maybe Stan was telling the truth…

"C'mon," he pleaded, standing in front of her now, imploring her with his puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

"… Okay…" she whispered reluctantly, feeling totally unsure about what she was doing but doing it anyway.

"Friends?" He smiled.

"We'll see, Sparky," she said, unable to just up and agree with that.

He smiled wider, a charming smile. "Well then I'll see you later," he said, and then slipped around her, leaving her standing there in the empty hall, as the final bell signaling the beginning of fourth period rang out through the halls at piercing volume.

Stan, one of the last few people in the locker rooms, twisted the combination to his lock after practice… water still dripped from his shower-fresh hair onto the tower around his shoulders. He gave it another quick rub through before discarding the towel, pulling out his clothes, and then changing back. He was about to put on his shirt when he heard the voice…

"Hey, Stan," he turned around to see Gabe, his best friend, already dressed, walking towards him with one of Gabe's good friends, though not so much one of his, Tye.

"Gabe," he nodded, and then threw his shirt up over his head.

"I need to ask you for a favor…"

"Yeah, man?"

"See, Tyler, here," Gabe nudged Tye in a buddy-like manner. "He's got this problem, you see, that he wants to take care of… but he needs a crew. I'm already in on it; but we need another person."

"Well, what's the problem?" Stan asked, finally finished with his shirt, he turned to pull his bag out of the locker. "And what do you need me for?"

"–But not that kind of girl," Tye interrupted.

Gabe nodded. "She's a real mutant… beatin' up the football players, dissin' the cheerleaders, everything from here to the moon."

Tye nodded. "We need you to help us… discourage her."

"How so?" Stan asked, shutting his locker and turning skeptical eyes on his friends.

"Can't tell you," Tye said. "Gotta know if you're in first."

"Please, man?" Gabe pleaded. "She's fuckin' horrible!"

"… Alright," Stan said, and then nodded. "Alright, I'm in…"

"Aw, I knew I could count on you!" Gabe cried with glee, giving Stan a manly hug. Stan smiled, and when they were done he looked back up at Tye.

"So who is this bitch?" he asked, saying the curse word with feeling.

"Sam Warren," Tye spat, and the smile on Stan's face almost instantly fell to a frown.

"… Sam?" he squeaked.

"Yeah," Gabe nodded. "… You know 'er?"

"Yeah… I-I met her today."

"Scary ass shit, huh?" Tye scoffed.

"Not really," Stan said softly. "I mean… are you sure it's her? She seemed so… I mean, she was a little bit hostile, but… she was nice, somehow… like…"

"She's a terror," Gabe said slowly.

"A freakin' beast!" Tye agreed. "She must have been just suckin' up to you or some shit… probably she wants to suck a little somethin' else."

Both Gabe and Tye laughed and smacked high fives, but Stan remained standing and frowning in disbelief.

"Guys?" they looked back at Stan. "I mean, are you sure? Are you really sure she did all this shit?"

"Hey, man," Gabe nudged Tye's chest again. "My brother over here's fallen victim to her crazy ass personally!"

Tye nodded to confirm this, giving Stan a solemn face. "Look, man, we need you…"

"Are you in?" Gabe asked, seriously. "Are you still in?"

"I-I guess," Stan looked down. "If she's really that… bad."

"Worse!" Tye cried.

Gabe laughed and smacked Tye another high five. "See, man, I told you he was down!"

"Yeah, you were right," Tye smiled and nodded. "We're on… so here's the deal…"