Chapter Title: The Outcasts
Thank you Wild Force Ranger Congrats, you're my only reviewer for this story so far, and you're the person who made it possible for me to update any story. Feel loved! I hope you enjoy this next installation, and please don't kill me for their appearances.
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"Robin! If you aren't down here in five seconds I will leave without you!"
Jonathan Edward Loxley, Jr. – Little John to family and friends – tapped his foot impatiently. His brown eyes – warm to some and deadly to others – were sparkling with humor as the object of all of his affections ran down the stairs.
Robert Hunter Loxley was smaller than his whole family and, at times, a klutz. He was especially accident-prone when he was being rushed. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when his foot caught on a rumpled T-shirt and he fell. Little John watched as his younger brother's mouth opened with a small 'o' of surprise. Robin's arms went out for balance, still clutching a shoe in one hand and a half-eaten piece of toast in the other. Little John stepped forward and caught the younger boy easily. Robin grinned up at him, their faces just over a foot apart.
At nineteen, Little John looked like a darker replica of his father. Both were more than six and a half feet tall, and both were broad. However, where Little John sported brown hair so dark it was almost black and liquid brown eyes, his father had the same chocolate brown hair as Robin, and caramel-colored eyes. His wife, Dina, was only an inch shorter than her husband and son, though much thinner. Her black hair and eyes helped explain her son's coloring. Robin felt somewhat out of place at times with his scrawny (Little John said sinewy), 5'6" frame and bright, forest-green eyes.
"C'mon, Robin. If we leave now we can still freak Much out!"
"It would've been easier to get ready this morning if someone hadn't thrown his T-shirts, pants, and hair gel all over his room, my room, and the bathroom."
"How is it the gel's fault?"
"By tomorrow I'm going to have a bruise on my leg from falling into the toilet when I slipped on a glob."
"Today is not your day, is it?" Little John asked as he ruffled Robin's hair. The smaller boy scowled.
"Meaning..."
"You did just trip over a shirt..."
"That you left lying there."
"But you could have picked up..."
"I'm not your maid!" Robin almost shrieked in outrage.
"No, but you should pick stuff up out of self-preservation."
"Ooh, someone learned a big word!"
"Shut it, Midget, before I make your bangs the same length as the rest of your hair."
Robin's hair was about two inches long and usually kept in soft spikes. However, he had bangs that reached just above his shoulders. Most of the people in the school they attended, and John Loxley, Sr., told him it looked horrible and he should cut it, but Robin liked it, and it did help him make a statement. Little John's hair, if it lay flat, would reach his chin, and he kept it in wild spikes sticking up all over his head.
Both boys wore dark colored shirts and black denim. Robin's shirt was little more than mesh. It was see-through, and he wore a black tank top underneath. Little John wore a dark gray shirt, much like the one Robin had just tripped over. Robin also had on black sneakers, while Little John sported heel less boots.
During their argument – known to others as fighting and them as bantering – they had been walking to Little John's car. The grey jeep was fairly old and covered in dirt. The vehicle was bought with a few years and over three thousand miles already behind it. The drive to Much Millerson's house was short, but not uneventful. Little John almost ran over an old lady at one point. Both boys were still bickering over laundry, and didn't notice until it was almost too late. Luckily she knew the Loxleys – had been their babysitter when they were small – and had a healthy sense of humor.
They got to Much's house with about two minutes to spare before class started. Little John ran up to the door and walked in, yelling for Much. His father, Matthew, was the one to answer Little John's frantic yelling.
"Little John! What's wrong?"
"We're about to be late again! If we get marked late one more time, Dad's gonna take away my car!"
"Much left about half an hour ago."
"Why?"
"Said he had a feeling it would be better for him."
"Thanks, Uncle Matthew!" Little John called as he ran back out the door. Matthew Millerson had been married to Jessa Loxley Millerson, Jonathan Sr.'s elder sister, before she died nearly ten years earlier. In honor of his late wife, and due to his own grief, Matthew had never remarried.
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Robin gripped the seat and dashboard tightly while Little John sped towards the school. From Much's house, it was usually a five minute drive. It was seven minutes from the Loxley house. That day, the drive took one minute and forty-seven seconds.
"If you had told me you were going to drive like that, I would've walked."
"And you would've gotten here the same time."
"Unless I walked through the forest."
Behind their house was a forest, wider than it was long. On the opposite side – in length – of the forest was Sherwood High. The school was a two-story brick building. Custodians and janitors continually sent in complaints about the leaves and dirt tracked in by students who went into the forest. Most of the high school students thought the forest was a great place to make out or hide in while ditching, but it was home to Robin, Little John, and Much.
"Ah, Mr.'s Loxley... How good of you to grace us with your presence. Do I dare ask what took you so long?"
Both Little John and Robin started their school day in Biology with Professor Fillip Tuck. The balding fat man was a close friend of theirs, and of most students. It was a well-known fact that if a student was late, all he had to do was give an excuse that entertained the professor and he would not be marked late. The excuse didn't even have to be true.
"Well," Little John drawled, "we would have been here sooner, but we got into a bit of an accident."
"Oh?" Tuck always enjoyed hearing Little John's stories, particularly if he didn't want to be marked late.
"Yes. You see, we would be on time today, except that there were three injuries while we were preparing and once we got on the road. While getting ready today, Robin was attacked by some of the gel that escaped it's tub. I had tried to catch it, but it slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor. I was about to pick it off the ground when I heard an awful roaring. When I learned that it was coming from my stomach, I made a snap decision to leave the gel where it was, after all, it would soon get lonely all by itself and crawl back into the tub. While I was eating, the gel became so aggravated by it's inability to get back to it's friends that it attacked Robin, sending him flying into a wall. By tomorrow, he'll have a bruise, a mark of his war, if you will.
"The second accident was when a rogue shirt wrapped itself around his ankles and sent him flying down the stairs. If I hadn't been there to catch him, he may have died. The third accident came because of our arguing about what caused the shirt to turn evil. While driving, I turned away from the road for a moment, and almost hit an old woman. She said that she wouldn't press charges, since she could still remember us from when we were toddlers. After that near-hit, we hurried over, but it was already too late. So you see, it's really not our fault that we're so late." Little John grinned at the stunned professor as he took a deep breath. Robin shook his head in amusement and went to his seat.
"Alright, that one was more than sufficient. Please take your seat."
"Can you believe he said all of that?" a boy near the back of the class whispered.
"I bet the shrimp told him what to say," his friend answered.
It was 'known' throughout school that John Loxley was dumb. He took third grade twice, putting him in the same class as Robin, Much, and the others. No one knew the reason he had retaken the class, but most assumed that he was too stupid to pass third grade. He was seen as the typical school bully: big, strong, and dumb. He did nothing to relieve them of their beliefs, thinking that they wouldn't believe him anyway.
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At lunch, they finally found Much. The black-haired boy was punching a freshman repeatedly in the face.
"Much! What are you doing? Are you trying to get expelled?"
"They don't" Punch "expel someone" Punch "for fighting!"
"Not usually, but this is your eighth fight of the month, and it's only the ninth!"
"C'mon, Much!" Little John growled as he bodily hauled the smaller boy of the freshman. Much stared up at him, his violet eyes burning in anger. Much was only an inch or so shorter than Little John, and he kept his black hair loose and stringy to his shoulders. His normal outfit consisted of a grey tank top under a denim button-up shirt whose sleeves had been ripped off and dark blue denim pants.
"He was making fun of Robin!" Much yelled, his eyes flashing in anger. The smallest boy hung his head; he hated the fact that his brother and cousin felt the need to stick up for him all the time, even if he was unable to do much damage of his own.
"That's when you come get me or Tuck! Let us handle the fool!"
"I'm NOT letting him make fun of my cousin!"
Robin was the youngest of the trio by only about four months. His birthday was just before the cutoff, making him one of the three youngest students in his grade. Little John was supposed to have graduated the year before, but his second trip in third made him graduate with his family.
"I don't want anyone to make fun of him either, Much, but unless they actually come up and hit him, there's not much we can do," Little John explained, trying his hardest to calm his cousin's temper. Much was known throughout school – at least by sophomores and older – for his practically nonexistent temper. Anything could set him off; he had been enrolled in anger management classes for ten years.
Robin walked over to his family members and titled his head upward, so that he could look them in the eyes. "Thanks for all that you do for me, but it would be even worse if one of you was suspended or expelled. Please Much, just try to keep your cool?"
"Fine. Let's go visit Renaldo."
"Be respectful, Millerson. At least call him Fillip."
"How is that more respectful?"
"It's his first name; not his middle name. Don't abuse our relationship with him."
"Fine. Let's go visit Tuck."
"That's better."
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A/N: Well? How was it? I tried to write more this time, and I tried to make it interesting and funny... Please review and let me know what you thought of it!
