She said, "I know what it's like to be dead,
I know what it is to be sad."
And she's making me feel like I've never been born
I said, "Who put all those things in your head?
Things that make me feel that I'm mad,
And you're making me feel like I've never been born."
She said, "You don't understand what I said,"
I said "No, no, no, you're wrong,
When I was a boy everything was right,
Everything was right."
I said, "Even though you know what you know
I know that I'm ready to leave
'Cause you're making me feel like I've never been born."
-The Beatles, She Said, She Said
Chapter Twenty-One: Changing For You
"You have fries and GRAVY for lunch?" Race shuddered and made retching noises at Blink. "That's gross."
"You got any other suggestions?" Blink asked, sprinkling salt from a packet over his poutine. They were seated at a long table, filled with students, and Race, too hungry for words, gazed at the other lunches in hope of something non-cafeteria.
Spot was drinking a soda, Jack was wolfing down his second cheeseburger, and Dutchy had a huge packet of Skittles.
"For me?" Race asked, holding out his hand.
Dutchy shot a look at Spot, and then winked at Race. "Yeah, help yourself."
"You rock."
"I sure do."
"Fucker," Spot shot at Dutchy. "See if I ever hook up with you drunk again."
"Shut it," Race said, mouth full of Skittles. Itey handed over a muffin.
"I can't eat all four, I never can. Mama has this thing with muffins." Itey smiled, then bit his lip. "Tony, do you really mean I won't be able to see Sophie?"
Race sighed a little. "I... I really don't know. Dad liked you. But... I think he blames sort of all of you for me being gay, and... yeah, that's not something he'd get over."
Itey's face fell, and Race continued hastily, "But look, Sophie's a really independent girl and she has no problem lying to him, so I'm sure she'll see you again."
"I don't want her to get in trouble."
"She won't." Race shrugged. "She's smarter than me."
"Yeah, but who's not?" Jack replied, and Race chucked a Skittle at him. "She's hotter, too."
Spot raised an eyebrow. "You looking at boys now, Jacky?"
"Oooooonly David," Blink sang, and Jack glared at the two of them.
"Hey, it's not our fault you're totally gay," Blink pointed out.
"I - am - not - gay!"
There was the sound of someone clearing her throat delicately, and the group looked up to see Jessica Craig holding a cafeteria tray and looking shy. "Uh..." she said quietly. "May I... Sit?"
Jack grinned and slid over on his chair, only to be hit with a banana peel from behind moments later; he whirled around and saw Sarah at the table behind him, glaring. He shrugged sheepishly.
Jessica smiled and reached for an empty chair from the nearest table, pulled it up between Spot and Dutchy.
Dutchy suddenly looked a little like he was being strangled.
"So what brings the head cheerleader to our table of queers and social failures?" Blink asked cheerfully, propping his head up on his hand.
"I am not a social failure," Jack muttered.
"But you sure are queer," Spot said.
Jessica blushed a little. "I just... Uh..." She threw Spot a look, and Spot groaned. "Wanted to... Try and hang out with some different people. I mean, since I'm not going to sit with Steve any more. And you all seem... Nice."
She glanced around and stopped on Dutchy. "I don't know any of you very well..." She raised an eyebrow. "But aren't you that kid who...?"
"OD'd on coke? Yeah. That's me! Drug free for over two weeks now!"
She bit her lip and he suddenly looked awkward and stared down at the table and she went back to Spot. "So... Sean... how did you and Tony meet?"
Race still had his mouth full of Skittles, so he glanced over at Spot. Spot also looked as if he was about to high tail it and run, but Race had a firm grip on his thigh.
"Through his boyfriend," he said, and jerked his thumb at Blink. "He's their drummer."
Jessica nodded and smiled a little at Race. "You...drum?"
"Yeah." He swallowed the Skittles.
"You good?"
"Yeah, I rock."
Jessica furrowed her brows and Spot smacked the back of his head. Jack was gazing lustfully at her, and just as he was about to go in for the kill, Jessica spoke up again. "Sean, can I... talk to you for a second?" There was a silence and no one said anything. "Alone?"
"Uuuhhh..." Spot glanced at Race, who shrugged. Then he looked around the table, and Itey nodded his head in a mother-like fashion, and Jack and Dutchy looked as if they wanted to shoot him. "...Sure?" he said.
Jessica stood up, and started out of the cafeteria. Spot quickly followed, really wondering what the whole thing was about.
They stopped just outside the doors, and Jessica folded her arms across her chest. "Sean, listen, I know you have a boyfriend, if that's what you call him, and I know you say you're gay but...but, I don't know, can't you be bisexual?"
Spot blinked. "Okay, uh...why do you care, for one? And for another--"
Jessica cut him off by touching his elbow. "I really...really like you, Sean."
Spot wasn't very good at this.
"What the fuck?"
"I..." She trailed off. "You're just so unconcerned about... about all of the high school bullshit and you don't let assholes like Steve worry you. You act like a jerk but I know it's not really you, that you care and just don't want to get hurt." She looked him in the eye. "I really admire how real you are."
And he answered with the first thing that came to mind: "I'm real. I'm really, really, really gay."
She pulled her hand away from his arm. "Sean..."
"Seriously. I like boys. My boyfriend's cock is--"
"Sean, please." Her voice broke a little and when Spot finally managed to look at her she was... Well, pretty clearly on the verge of tears.
"Oh, shit," he mumbled. "I didn't mean--I'm really fucking bad at talking to people. I just... Am... Gay."
"But we--"
"Yeah, I know. I was drunk and so were you, and I made myself do it to piss off your boyfriend because he decided to make me his own personal punching bag." He shrugged.
"So that's... all there was to it?" she asked, her voice wavering.
He nodded.
"I--I have to go," she declared, and he could see her starting to cry as she whirled around and ran off.
And he stared after her, and actually felt genuinely bad. Which surprised him, because he wasn't supposed to care. "I'm such a pussy," he muttered, then sighed and walked after her.
He found her going towards the girls washrooms, which wasn't too much of a surprise, but it wasn't like Spot knew a lot about girls anyway. He didn't even know what he was gonna say to her; why the hell did he have to care?
Because she was an okay girl, that's why. He groaned inwardly.
"Jessica!" Spot called, and quickened his step. "Jessica, come on, wait up a sec."
She stopped running, but she didn't turn around to face him when he caught up with her.
"Hey," Spot pushed her shoulder slightly. "Hey, turn around."
She did, and her eyes were red and he really shouldn't have asked her that. "What?" she asked, wiping her eyes.
"Uh..." he shook his head. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I only say nice things about you behind your back."
She was silent. That didn't make her feel better. Spot swore and searched his brain. "Shit, I am so fucking bad at this," he muttered.
"I noticed."
"Uh--It's--I think you're cool." He paused, then decided to run with it. "I do, and I fucking hate Steve and you're so much better than him, you actually care about people and--and that's really cool, it's way better than I can do so--so yeah, I think you're a nice girl but unfortunately... Yeah. Boys."
She sniffled and reached for one of the paper towels by the girls' sinks. "My make up is running," she said.
"You look good anyway."
"You don't like girls."
"I also can tell ugly from not ugly. You're not ugly." He hesitated. "I mean, you're pretty."
"You don't have to lie, Sean."
"I'm not lying! I think you're--uh--see, if I liked girls? I'd totally want you."
She dabbed at her running mascara. "You don't like girls... Even a little?"
"Nope."
"Damn." She sighed. "The nice boys are all taken or gay."
"Not all of them."
"Name one."
He hesitated, then said sort of randomly, "...Dutchy?" Because Dutchy really needed to get laid, and anyway, his crush on Jess was infamous.
"The coke head? I don't think that he counts."
Spot shrugged. "You didn't say no drugs, just nice and straight."
"Straight? I thought he was dating that godawful Bruce guy."
"Uh... Yeah. But he's bi, so... It's close, right?"
"Boys are so stupid," she mumbled.
"We really, really are. That's why I don't like girls. They're smarter than me. I feel inferior."
She looked away from the mirror in the bathroom and towards him, standing leaning awkwardly against a sink, and smiled a little bit. "See? I said you were nicer than you act."
Spot blinked. "No, I'm a dick."
She smiled a little more, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're not."
Spot didn't hug her back, but he gave her hip a little pat and didn't exactly push away.
When she let him go, she was smiling again, and Spot was feeling normal once more. Normal being, not needing to be nice. At all.
"Can I go?" he asked.
Jessica laughed, and crossed her arms. "I'm coming."
"...Why?"
"You said something about Dutchy?"
Spot put his hands in his pockets and grinned. "He's so gonna love me."
"But... Not really, though, right?"
"Nah, we got over that."
Jessica didn't ask.
So they headed back to the cafeteria, and people were kind of gaping at them, and it was Blink who looked at Jessica and then at Spot and then demanded, "You made her CRY? You DICK!"
Spot glared at him, grabbed one of his french fries and flicked it into his face. Blink responded by reaching across the table and smacking him.
"She's too nice for you," Itey mused.
"And too female," Spot added pointedly, and grabbed Race's hand to prove his point.
Race smiled a little and ducked his head.
Jessica sighed. "Well, I'll get over him," she said.
"It's not that hard," Dutchy mumbled, then turned bright red and announced, "I have to... go... somewhere else now," and stood up.
Spot reached behind Jessica, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down to the table. She giggled. Dutchy's face turned an even brighter red. But he sat and stared at the table and ignored everyone else.
Everyone else found it too amusing for words, and Jessica smiled a little. "So... What kind of band is it?"
They spent the rest of the lunch period explaining it to her, talking excitedly. And Spot had to admit that, for a girl, Jessica wasn't so bad. He just hoped he wouldn't end up like Mush to Jessica's Sophia--he had a boyfriend and didn't need a wife on top of it.
Especially not because, as he remembered a few periods later, his 'wife' had a very jealous ex-boyfriend.
As the lunch period ended, Spot grabbed hold of Race's wrist and dragged him down the hallway. He didn't notice Jessica coming up beside him, and she nudged his side. "Hey." Spot gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. "Just wanted to know if I could crash your band rehearsal?" she asked Race.
Race looked a little startled that she wasn't speaking to him, and he cleared his throat. "Uuuh...sure. Why?"
Jessica shrugged. "Dutchy likes me."
Spot snorted and gave her back a pat. "Go to class, blondie."
She winked at the two of them, and hurried down the hall. Spot smirked down at Race. "Dutchy so owes me."
"Yeah," Race's voice trailed off. "Uh, Spot, do you--"
"No. I'm gay."
"Can you blame me for checking on you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because," Spot shrugged. "You should trust me. We should trust each other."
"I do!"
"Then we don't have a problem." Spot slung an arm around his shoulder. "I'd never cheat on you, okay?"
Race blushed and smiled. "Okay. Me neither."
As the day continued, Spot seemed to get a little more used to having Race around--having a boyfriend in public. The day was full of quick kisses, stolen glances, and holidng hands under the desk (which Race found adorable because it seemed so un-Spot-like), and by eighth period they were skipping class to make out in the library.
Racetrack had never been to a public school in his life. All he had to compare this to was a string of private schools for the children of wealthy, conservative Catholics; and he was downright certain that he'd have been expelled for this in his own school. It was a scandal when a girl and boy held hands, let alone kissed (which they would be suspended for) but two boys making out...
He pushed the thought from his mind; there was too much bigotry in his own family for him to worry about it at school just yet. Instead, he decided, Spot's school was awesome and if he ended up attending it, well, that would be okay, really.
Ninth period, Spot had gym. Spot hated gym; he had it with Steve Olsen and the coach didn't really care of Steve used it as an excuse to shove him around--but when Spot shoved back he found himself in trouble. It sucked. So he really had no interest in attending, and he and Race wandered the hallways for a few minutes, until Spot walked past his English teacher's room, remembering that she had to leave early for a conference that day.
She hadn't locked the door.
A grin spread over his face and he pulled Race into the room, shut the door behind them, and practically shoved Race down onto a desk.
Race raised an eyebrow, but didn't object.
Spot started to, of course, suck at Race's neck, and Race moaned a little as he trailed his hands down Spot's chest.
"Spot," Race mumbled. "We're like, gonna get caught by a janitor or something..."
"Shut up." Spot kissed him hard on the mouth.
"But," Race said between kisses. "If we get mmmm...." Race wrapped his arms around Spot's neck. "Screw it, fuck me."
Spot raised an eyebrow. "Oooh. Midgito gets feisty,"
"Don't call me that."
"It's so true."
"HEY!" Race shoved him. "It is NOT...is it?"
Spot shrugged and went to pulling off Race's shirt. "Guess you'll never know."
"Spoo-oott."
"Don't whine."
"Spoooo-ooott."
"For fuck's sake, you're ruining it."
"Spo-oo-"
"SHUT UP."
Race's answer was distinctly unflattering. Not that Spot knew that, because his answer was also in Italian.
Spot hesitated for a second, then, "Okay, fine, talk in Italian."
"Hah." Race smirked, then winced a little as Spot bit him. "Not so fucking hard."
Spot trailed a hand over the outside of Race's jeans. "You're fucking hard."
"Yeah, so fuck me already."
"Demanding..." Spot mumbled.
"Your idea."
"Nah, I just pulled you in here..."
"Spot. Do you want to talk or do you want to screw?"
"Since when are you so fucking horny?" Spot demanded, his hand still on Race's crotch.
"Since I'm not in the goddamn closet anymore."
"Fine," Spot agreed, and began to messily unbutton Race's jeans.
Race moaned, and Spot stuck his hand roughly over his mouth as he pulled off Race's pants. "Jesus," Spot said, sitting up. "You're gonna have to switch places with me at some point, 'cause I'm doing all the work."
Race grabbed the front of his collar and kissed him, pulling him down onto the desk on top of him. There wasn't anymore talking. Granted, Race was still having a hard time keeping quiet, but Spot kept his hand over his mouth most of the time. Until Race had to turn over.
Soon, Race was panting, and sitting on the desk, while Spot (also panting) was throwing on his pants and doing up the buckle of his belt.
Spot glanced over his shoulder and his boyfriend and grinned. "You better get dressed. I mean, I'M up and at 'em and I was doing everything,"
Race rolled his eyes. "Shut up..." then he grinned. "God, you're so fucking hot I can hardly..."
Spot nodded his head. "It's true."
"I so owe you sex in the car."
"You also owe me DRIVING the car."
"We'll see."
"Your car is fucking sexy." Spot handed Race his shirt, then grabbed it back, and handed Race his own shirt instead. Race gave him a strange look.
"...This is gonna be too tight for me to wear."
"Yeah, 'cause I really hate the idea of you wearing a skin tight shirt." Spot smirked.
"Seriously, I'd stretch it. Give me my shirt."
"Nah." Spot shrugged. "I wanna see if anyone notices."
"By 'anyone' you mean 'Blink,' don't you?"
"...Maybe."
"What is the deal with you two?" Race demanded, then sighed a little and pulled on Spot's shirt. It was just as tight as he'd assumed, and Spot looked quite appreciative of the fact. Enough so that Race almost blushed.
Finally, Spot commented, "They had sex first. Blink was really smug. So sex in a classroom--"
"I can't believe you just screwed me so you could one-up Blink."
"Could be worse."
"How?"
"I could have not just screwed you." Spot smirked.
Race shoved him a little. "Ass," he accused.
"Sure am. I need a fucking cigarette."
"Ught," Race said pointedly. "You know those are bad for you, right?"
"No, somehow I'd managed to miss that." Spot rolled his eyes.
"They make your breath disgusting."
"And yet, you kiss me anyway."
"Maybe I ought to stop that, then."
Spot gave him a look. "Yeah? I dare you." He smirked.
"Hey, I could if I tried..."
"Nah, you want me too much."
"But your breath is gross."
"Fine, I'll start buying mints or gum or something."
"Or you could quit smoking."
"Drop dead, Midget Boy."
Race sighed, as Spot headed towards the main doors of the school. "It's cold today, Spot," he whined. "I don't wanna stand in the cold drizzly weather while you smoke."
"Bitch."
"Spoooooooot."
"Fine. Itey's got a study hall, he'll be in the practice room where we were making out earlier; go bother him. I'll go find you in a few minutes."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah." Spot rolled his eyes, but didn't object when Race kissed him quickly and headed off to find Itey. Spot actually sort of smiled watching him go, then walked off towards the school parking lot, digging around in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter.
It wasn't until after he lit up that he discovered he wasn't the only one skipping gym that afternoon.
Standing by his gorgeous red sports car was Steve Olson, and three of his friends were just jumping out of the car.
Spot could have turned around and walked back into the school without them noticing him, but that wouldn't have been a very Spot thing to do. He wasn't about to let Steve Olson turn him into a whiny little girl.
Spot just leaned against Jack's van and lit his cigarette, letting time do it's own thing. Finally, he felt someone shove his shoulder, and he glanced up. Steve was staring down at him, looking absolutely too fucking sexy, with a frown. His friends weren't far behind.
"C'n I help you?" Spot snapped, his speech muffled by the cigarette.
Steve didn't say anything, but he shoved Spot again. Spot would have shoved back, but he realized with regret that he had to keep this from boiling into a fight. He'd been in too many fights, and the last thing he needed was for his social worker to decide he was too messed up and fight-prone to be adopted.
When Steve shoved him again, Spot growled under his breath and dodged out of his way. "Fuck you; what'dya want?"
"You fucking faggot," Steve snapped. "Jess wouldn't fucking stop talking about you through the entire break up."
"What's your point?"
"My POINT is," Steve leaned his face down into Spot's. Spot could smell his breath. "You fucked my girl."
Spot raised his eyebrows, staring into Steve's eyes defiantly. "Yeah, we've been through this buddy. And she's not your girl."
"Not anymore."
"Yeah, well, breaks my heart. Really," Spot shoved his hands in his pockets, and let the smoke seep out of his mouth and into Steve's face. "Speaking of faggots, I couldn't help but notice your groupies standing behind you, all rarin' to go when ya get horny, eh?"
It took Steve a moment to register what Spot had said, and when he did, he got pissed. "Fucker!" Steve shoved him, hard, and Spot stumbled. His cigarette fell out of his mouth, and Spot swore as he ground the remains of it with his sneaker.
"Don't touch me," Spot said.
"What was that?" Steve opened his arms. "You wanna go?"
"Yeah, dude, I totally wanna," Spot rolled his eyes. "I'm not a fucking pussy, don't go talking big when--"
Spot was cut off; a fist slammed into the right side of his face.
He fell backwards onto his ass. "Fuck!" Spot snapped. He shot back up on his feet, his hand flying up to his face and touching where Steve had punched him. "You asshole!"
Steve's friends were standing close behind him now, but Steve pushed them back.
"Screw off!" he told them. "The pussy's mine, I could have taken him when I was four."
"Yeah, well..." Spot spat blood out of his mouth. "When you were four, you were busy fucking your daddy."
Then Steve jumped at him again, but went sprawling back when Spot punched him swift and hard in the jaw.
Most people at school, and most especially Steve Olsen, didn't know a lot about Spot. They knew he was a foster kid, and that he was living with Jack; they knew he was gay, that he was friends with the Other Gay Kid and the Druggie; they knew he swore a lot and smoked and acted like a badass.
They didn't know he could back up his attitude with his fists.
When Spot had first moved in with Jack, his social worker had said he had 'severe behavioral disorders', which really just meant that Spot had gone through a phase where he'd been extraordinarily violent. He'd picked fights with anyone who looked twice at him--classmates, teachers, foster parents and siblings, doctors, anyone who came near him. He'd just enjoyed it on some level; doling out pain felt good, and on some sick level, so did receiving it.
He hadn't stopped until he'd been warned he'd be put into an institution, instead of a foster home, if he didn't shape up. So he had, grudgingly, though he and Steve had gotten into a few fights when he'd first moved into Jack's. They'd both won and lost some, but it didn't help that Steve always had his cronies there to help out.
So really, Steve didn't worry too much about fighting a skinny kid with a pretty, girly face. But he had no idea just how far Spot could go when he was pushed. Because at the moment, Spot had a lot of pent up rage. Living with the mafia's gun to his head, fighting with Jack, Race getting kicked out of his house... He had an awful lot to be angry about.
Steve Olsen didn't know that.
So Steve punched towards him again, and he ducked and drove an elbow hard into Steve's stomach, and as Steve doubled over brought his hand up and into Steve's nose. Steve yelled with pain, and Spot shoved him away and tried to get hold of his temper. "Leave me the fuck alone," he snarled. "Or I swear to God I'll fucking kill you."
Steve straightened up and discovered that he was bleeding from his nose and his lip, and that he was having trouble inhaling. He didn't know that Spot had been careful with that elbow, because Spot knew full well where to place a blow to make a stomach or spleen rupture. His father had done that to his mother once; she'd been in the hospital for four days afterwards.
Sometimes he was amazed at how long it had taken the police to find his father. But he didn't waste time thinking about that, because Steve decided to ignore his warning and after spending just a moment to catch his breath, he rushed back at Spot, throwing punches and kicks without thought, only trying for strength.
Spot was a smarter fighter than that, but the way Steve was flailing he couldn't land an actual punch. She he mostly dodged and ducked and barely actually got hit, until Steve managed, by pure luck, to slam a fist into the side of Spot's skull, sending him reeling into Jack's van. The handle dug into his spine and before he could recover, Steve had him pinned there, his head still reeling; Steve might not have known a lot about Spot, but he was smart enough not to give Spot a chance to recover.
He slammed his fist into Spot's stomach, and Spot doubled over, wheezing. Steve's friends were huddled over on the sidelines, cheering Steve on, throwing insults at Spot.
Spot was getting increasingly more pissed off.
Any normal person would have been sprawled out on the pavement, backing out of the fight, all winded and bloodied.
Spot wasn't normal.
Spot was borderline schizophrenic; Spot was unhappy, and Spot's life, up until now, sucked.
He was not normal.
He stood up again, and before Steve Olsen even knew what hit him, smoked him clear across the face.
Steve stumbled back and went sprawling onto the pavement.
The bell rang then, and students started filing outside. Steve's friends had started to chant, "Fight, fight, fight!" over and over, and before Spot knew it, there was a crowd. He couldn't see any of his friends, or Jack or Race. But he didn't have much of a chance to look because Steve was pretty much crazy by now. He was humiliated for one thing, and his nose was most likely broken.
So he started provoking Spot even more than he already had.
"Fucking fag," Steve spat. "You know what you're fucking worth at this school? Nothing. Everyone knows you're a fucking criminal, and that Kelly and his mom only took you in because they felt sorry for you!"
Spot dove at him, punching him wildly in the stomach. Steve answered back by dodging so Spot slid past him, and then shoved Spot into Jack's van again.
Spot was back on his feet quickly. "Better than being a limp dicked rich boy who can't even keep his girlfriend satisfied for one night. Yeah, she had to run to this so called 'fag,'" Spot smirked, through the blood and dirt on his face. "Funny how that works out, huh?"
By now, Steve was repelling Spot's insults about Jessica. "That all you got on me, Conlon? A lay? Yeah, well, I got as many chicks as I want. I can name about one person who doesn't play around with your scrawny ass because they feel sorry for you." Steve paused and then laughed. "Oh no wait, I can't. Bastard."
Spot glared. "I'm not a bastard."
"You're an orphan, then."
"Shut up!"
Now Spot was getting pissed, and the crowd was watching with awe, and Spot lost it. He dove at Steve, and Steve didn't see it coming. Spot was on top of him, punching him over and over.
Then he felt arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him back.
Spot didn't have to look to know it was Jack grabbing him; unfortunately, no one held back Steve and after he got to his feet, he got in one more hard blow to Spot's face, shoving Spot backwards, which made Jack trip and they both hit his van, hard. Jack grunted and was glad, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Spot was so skinny, because he'd basically taken the brunt of the fall for both of them. And he was half-tempted to take a swing at Steve himself, seeing how bloodied his brother was, but he didn't even have a chance.
"What the fuck?"
Race's accent, Jack noted vaguely, was thicker when he was pissed off.
"Tony--" Jack started, but was cut off.
"Who the fuck are you?" Steve demanded, as Race shoved his way through the crowd to stand next to Spot, who was still being held back by Jack. Because Jack knew full well that the second his grip loosened, Spot would be back on Steve, and he also knew that with his mother trying to get Spot adopted, they couldn't afford to have the fight end with someone getting hospitalized.
Race threw a glance at Steve, and then a glance at Spot, then answered flatly, "His boyfriend." And he didn't pause before throwing a punch into Steve's already bloody face.
Steve swore loudly and was down on the pavement again. But this time he was just holding his nose and swearing over and over, not getting up to retaliate.
His friends, on the sidelines, were backing off. Their main man had had the crap beat out of him by a 'fag' about the size of Calista Flockhart, and then punched in the nose by his boyfriend.
Still, Andrew, Steve's best friend, yelled at Race, and then Race was about to run at him, but Itey managed to grab his arm. Race glared at him, and yanked his arm away. He kicked at Steve on the ground, and turned to Spot, who wasn't looking too good.
"Come on, let's get the hell out of here," Jack muttered, and unlocked the van door. He ushered Spot in, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off because Spot was suddenly feeling the fight. Itey started for his own car, and Race hesitated, the strode towards where Steve was still lying, crouched down next to him, and put a hand on the pavement next to his face.
"You touch him again, you're a dead man," Racetrack said quietly, and the tone of voice made it clear that it wasn't an idle threat. And it wasn't, because for just a second Race forgot that he'd been disowned, and was seriously wondering what he'd have to do for the Family to get a hit on Steve's life.
He walked back to the van, got in, and slammed the door shut. Even as he sat down, Jack took off, and Race turned his attention to Spot.
Spot looked terrible.
He was trying to act tough, but it wasn't working too well. He spat some blood into his palm, and then wiped in on his shirt. Race winced and slid next to him.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," Spot snapped. "I kicked his ass."
"Shut up!" Jack snapped. "Look at you, you're really beaten up, moron. Mom is gonna freak."
"Thanks for the concern," Spot said sarcastically.
"You know I'm concerned, idiot! You know you shouldn't have picked a fight--"
"I didn't!" Spot sat up in his seat. "I didn't do a fucking thing, he started it. He threw the first punch!" Spot blinked a little. "Oh god..."
Jack slowed down, and glanced back at him. Race attempted to touch Spot, but Spot shoved him away, annoyed.
Jack sighed. "You look fucking terrible..."
Spot blinked a little, and his head was flopping up and down. "Fuckin'... feel sick."
"You gonna hurl?" Race asked.
Spot nodded.
Jack stopped the van as quickly as he could and ushered Spot out onto the side of the road, where Spot did, indeed, hurl. He was probably doing something awful to some poor person's lawn, but didn't care. He was too busy being sick and wishing he'd stop bleeding already...
"Your shirt is a mess," Jack noted, then, "That's not your shirt."
"Fuck," Race muttered. "You got my shirt all bloody."
"Yeah." Spot wiped his mouth with his hand, which really only smeared blood across his face. "Well, I got myself pretty fucking bloody too, if that helps."
"It doesn't," Race answered, and helped Spot back to the van. Or tried to, anyway; Spot pulled out of his grasp and walked defiantly by himself. Race threw Jack a slightly confused look.
Jack shrugged. "He's gotta feel like he won himself. Like he didn't need you to get in that last punch."
"But he's gonna pass out--"
"He'd rather pass out than be a pussy." Jack paused, with his hand on the van, and decided not to make a comment about how maybe Racetrack didn't know Spot so well after all. He let it sit as a personal victory, and after that, realized he was a bit less jealous of Spot's relationship with Race.
Itey hurried into Blink's garage, looking worried, and scared, and Blink and Dutchy watched him, confused.
"What's up?" Blink asked.
"You both left last period?" Itey asked.
"I did," Blink said. "Dutchy came here right after--what's wrong?"
Itey took a deep breath. "Spot got in a big fight with Steve Olsen."
Blink's eyes widened, and Dutchy whistled. "Fist fight?" Dutchy asked. Itey nodded. "Who won?"
"Spot?"
"NICE!" Blink cheered. "He doing okay?"
"He looks pretty gross..." Itey frowned. "And Jack and Tony are pissed."
"Tony must not have liked seeing that."
"He didn't see most of it; by the time we got there it was basically done. I think they woulda stopped, but Tony..." He trailed off.
"Tony what?" Dutchy demanded.
"Tony knocked Steve on his ass, probably would have gone after Andrew too, but we got him to leave."
"Wish I could've seen that," Blink mused. Itey looked on disapprovingly. "What? Okay, yeah, violence is bad; Steve Olsen spent all of ninth grade finding new ways to make my life a living hell and he's--you KNOW how many times he's--I fucking hate him."
"I know," Itey sighed. "Spot's not looking so good. I hope Tony is calm enough to play, we're gonna need to start packing up; Jack said we could use his van."
"Start packing--" Blink stopped abruptly. "Shit. We've still got our audition!" He stood and started for the door. "Come on; if Spot's hurt they'll go straight home, we should meet them." He took off towards Jack's house, Itey and Dutchy following, and they arrived as the van pulled in.
Blink was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. When Jack and Race got out of the car, he wasn't surprised to see Spot insist on getting himself out. He winced. Spot's face was slightly caked with dry blood, and the right side of his face was black and blue.
"Shit..." Blink shook his head. "Spot, are you--"
"Look." He pointed at his face. "Think this is bad? Steve's nose is broken. His fucking beautiful nose. I rock."
Blink grinned. "You so kick ASS!"
"I know!"
Blink threw his arm around Spot in a congratulatory fashion, and Spot, as inconspicuously as he could, leaned slightly into him, growing faint.
Jack and Race exchanged slightly annoyed looks. Why Spot chose Blink to collapse on was beyond either of them. But when it came down to it, Blink probably knew how to handle the guy best.
"So..." Spot mumbled. "Don't you have an audition to get ready for?"
"Yeah, but Denise will kick our collective asses if you don't get you cleaned up first," Blink answered. "And she's scary when she's pissed."
"How would you know?" Spot demanded.
"Because when we were kids, Jack and Dutchy and I managed to break her television." Blink laughed a little. "Davey told on us."
"Oh my god, I'd forgotten that!" Jack snickered, and opened the door. Denise wasn't home from work yet, which was probably for the best, so he just reprised his role from the previous evening by digging out ice for Spot's face, and a damp towel to get the blood off.
Spot took the towel, but Racetrack grabbed it from him and practically shoved him down onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Hold still, Spot," he demanded, and began to gently dab at the dried and drying blood.
"I can do it myself, fucker!"
"I know you can, now shut up and let me feel useful." Race shoved Spot's hand off of his own as Spot tried to grab the towel.
"Tony--" Spot started.
"Goddamnit, Spot, let me help you," Race muttered. "And anyway, you so owe me, you got blood all over my shirt and that shit's not gonna come out."
Spot muttered something under his breath, but no one could hear it. He stopped struggling, though, and let Racetrack return to gently helping him clean up.
Spot sat there, moping, and finally seemed as if he was a little more conscious now. He leaned into his chair, and let Race wipe the blood off of his face.
"Did Jess see?" Spot asked.
Jack smirked. "You have a fag hag."
Jack shut up when Spot kicked his shin from his seat. Itey winced and shook his head. "She didn't see, Spot. But it'll be around the school by tomorrow morning... you know, it doesn't look so bad now that the blood's all washed off."
It was true. Spot's bruise on the right side of his face was awful, but otherwise, the situation didn't look too bad. His lip was slightly torn up, and he was still spitting blood out onto his hand and wiping it on Race's shirt, but he didn't look half as bad as Steve did.
The doorbell rang, and all of the boys jumped. "Jesus, is your mom--" Dutchy started, and Jack rolled his eyes.
"Why would Mom ring the doorbell?" Jack stood up. "I got it."
He left the kitchen, and Itey took his seat. Everyone was silent as Race finished wiping up Spot's face.
Spot was starting to kind of look like himself again. He had his scowl back on, but he still looked kind of ready to pass out any minute. When Race sat next to him, Spot dropped his head onto his shoulder and sighed.
"Tony,"
"Yeah?"
"Fucker chipped one of my teeth."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, a back one."
"It hurt?"
"Yes."
Race just grinned and slung his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. Then Jack appeared in the kitchen, and behind him was Sophia.
Itey jumped out of his seat. "Sophie, what--"
"Rosetta." Race made a face. "You shouldn't be here, how did you--"
"Shut up," she snapped. "Dad doesn't know. I'm at symphony tonight. Even though it was cancelled. Okay?" She bit her lip. "I got directions from Davey, he should show up sooner or later--Spot, what happened?"
Spot was about to answer, but she cut him off. "I came to check on Tony and I'm coming to see your audition and all." She looked at Itey. "Hey."
"Hey..." he said quietly.
Race stood up, letting Spot rest back in his seat, and he hurried over to his sister, slipping his arm around her waist. "Hey, you know you shouldn't--"
"Oh don't be sappy, dork. It's fine," she smiled. "Dad has no idea that I don't always do what he says. I'm home free." She frowned again, and went over to Spot. "SO what happened?"
So Race mumbled, "Dad's not the only bigot in the world and Spot has self-restraint issues."
"Fuck you."
"See, it's funny, 'cause if you hadn't my shirt wouldn't be so damn bloody."
Sophia started to answer, then stopped because she decided she didn't want to know. On the other hand, Blink had no such considerations. "Your shirt--" He drew a rather quick conclusion. "Jesus, sex in school? That's gross."
"It was hot," Spot mumbled, and put the ice to his bruise and winced a little from the cold.
The door bell rang again.
"Who the hell...?" Jack muttered, knowing that David and Mush wouldn't bother with the bell any more than Denise would. "Dutchy, you wanna go tell whoever it is that we don't want fucking girl scout cookies?"
Dutchy nodded and left the room to go answer the door, and as he swung it open, found himself face-to-face with Jessica. He wasn't sure, but suspected he made a slight 'eep!' noise, and knew his face was turning bright red. "Uh... Hey."
"Hey, Dutchy. I... I saw Jack's van here and I heard about the fight and... Is Sean okay?"
"He's, uh... Pretty beat up..."
There was a pause.
"Can I come in?" she asked patiently.
Dutchy nodded and stood aside, then shut the door behind her and led the way back into the kitchen. Within the last minute since he'd walked out, Spot had shed his shirt, which Itey was rinsing in the sink, and Race was massaging his shoulders while he kept the ice on his face. Spot's ribcage and stomach all were also interesting shades of blue and purple. Jack was standing by worriedly, and Sophia was sitting at the table, saying something in Italian.
They all gave Jessica strange looks as she walked in.
"Jesus, Sean," she said, her eyes going wide. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fucking spiffy."
"Are you--Did you get into the fight because of... Me?"
"I got into the fight because your boyfriend punched me."
"Ex-boyfriend," she corrected.
"Whatever."
"Sean--"
"It's not your fault," he snapped, hating that he not only knew why she was worried, but that he cared. He wasn't supposed to care. He felt like such a pussy. But... "He's a fucking bigot and he thought I was an easy target, and now he's got a broken nose and it's his own damn fault."
"Broken nose?" Sophia interrupted, and threw Racetrack a sideways glance.
"Hey, I only hit him once. Not my fault."
"Tony, you shouldn't be fighting--"
"I don't need you taking care of me, Sophia," he snapped.
"Are you hurt?" she demanded.
"No; I'm only fucking bruised from Dad, okay?" He slowed his hands on Spot's shoulders. "Some fucking day, huh. Look at the two of us."
"We rock," Spot answered. "Let's go fuck."
"Okay."
"TONY," Blink interrupted. "AUDITION."
Sophia closed her eyes and made a gagging noise. "God, you're my brother."
Race made a face at her. "I can't believe that ugly mass in front of me is my sister."
"Hey!" Itey reached over the table and smacked Race on the head. "Watch what you say."
Race smacked him back. "Screw you!"
Sophia rolled her eyes and smacked both Race and Itey on the heads simultaneously. "Would you both cut it out!?"
Itey whimpered and Race stuck his tongue out at her. Jessica smiled a little, and cleared her throat. "Are you... Sean's boyfriend's--"
"My name's Tony."
"Tony's sister?"
Sophia nodded, and then looked closely at Jessica. The two girls gave each other the once over, and finally Jessica extended her hand. "I'm Jessica."
Sophia grinned. "Sophia," and shook her hand.
Jack let out a snort. "This is so hot."
Race and Itey punched his shoulder.
Jack rolled his eyes, but really, he'd expected that. He straightened his shirt, and looked over at Spot. "You want some advil?" he offered.
"Ha. No." Because Spot didn't take medication, no matter how badly he needed it; not painkillers when he hurt and not the mood drugs his doctors prescribed because really, he wanted to be himself, not some drugged up, clouded version of himself.
"Don't be so macho, Sean," Jessica scolded. "You must hurt like crazy."
"Nah, I'm just dandy." Spot rolled his eyes, then flicked Blink's shoulder. "You wanna go get me a shirt?"
"Our AUDITION--"
"Blink, go get him a shirt," Jack sighed. "Then you guys can talk music, when Spot's doing okay."
"I am doing okay, I'm cold." Spot took the ice off his face to prove his point, only to have Race pick it up and put it back. Spot elbowed him in the side, but didn't object aloud.
Blink let out a frustrated, womanly shriek, and left the room to get Spot a shirt. Jack laughed, and when he saw Jessica and Sophia sit down, quickly took the seat between them before Itey and Dutchy could move an inch.
"So," he said. "Jess, I take it you're single now?"
She gave him an odd look, kind of like she was wondering why the hell he was talking, and then shrugged. "Yeah. I hear you're going with Sarah Jacobs?"
"So!" Jack turned to Sophia, the conversation with Jessica over. "Sophie, you figured out yet that Itey is nothing compared to a real man?"
"Fuck you!" Itey exclaimed.
Sophia snorted. "Right, Jack, that's hilarious. Really, I can't stop laughing. Look at me go." She smiled smugly.
Jack cleared his throat, and look away from Sophia. "Well uh... that was..."
"Dick," Itey mumbled.
"Ass," Dutchy snapped.
"Pussies," Jack answered.
Jessica rolled her eyes visibly. "You know, Jack," she mused, "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah; I've never seen anyone else get rejected quite so often. It's amazing you've got any self-esteem left."
Which made everyone else in the room start laughing, and Jack glared around at them in annoyance. "Yeah, it's not so hard, when you consider the people I'm friends with," he muttered.
"Awwww. We love you too, Jack," Dutchy said between chuckles.
"Yeah, yeah." Jack shoved him a little.
Jessica smiled a little, then looked at Itey and Sophia. "So you two are...?"
"Mmmhmmm," Sophia answered, and reached for Itey's hand.
"Unfortunately," Race muttered, only to have his sister smack his shoulder.
Blink walked back into the room, t-shirt in hand, and tossed it at Spot. "Can we do something productive now?!" he demanded.
"Someone's bitchy today," Dutchy noted.
"He's jealous 'cause I got laid at school." Spot smirked.
"Ewwwwwwww," Sophia answered. "Can we please, please, please never talk about your sex life again?"
Blink sighed and sank down at the table. "I miss Mush," he whined. "And our thing at the gym was WAY hotter than ANYTHING at school--"
"La la la, I can't hear you!" Sophia half-shrieked. "For the love of GOD, don't encourage him!"
Itey grinned. "You're so cute."
Sophia giggled.
"Don't encourage HIM!" Race shot back, elbowing his sister in the side. "Anyway, band, in the living room. The rest of you, shut up."
"Ooh, I like it when you order me around."
"Shut up, Dutchy."
"Yeah, asshole!" Spot punched Dutchy's arm. There really was a lot of violence going on, and Blink grabbed Race and Dutchy by the arm and dragged them out of the kitchen, barking orders at Itey to follow. Itey stumbled and then scrambled out of his chair to follow.
Jack, still sitting between Jessica and Sophia, grinned smugly. "Sooooo," he said, and the two girls groaned and took new seats next to Spot.
"We have no set list," Blink said in the living room. "We have no setlist and we're gonna die. We shouldn't even bother. We should just pretend we never--"
"Okay, drama queen, knock it off," Race answered. "We don't have... Much."
"We've got nothing," Blink insisted. "We're so not ready to play in public! We're gonna get laughed out of--"
"Blink, chill," Itey said.
"So they said three songs; preferably with variety," Race continued. "We must have at least three songs."
"The ballad for Sophie," Itey said. "I mean... If you guys think it's ready..."
"It's fine," Dutchy said.
"It's not--" Blink cut himself off. "It's not quite where I'd like it to be. But it'll do."
"Thanks," Itey mumbled.
"No, no, I don't mean it like that. It's really good and you sound great but I suck on the keyboard is all."
"Smooth cover there," Dutchy mused.
"Shut up. Okay, what else?"
There was a long pause.
"God damn it, we've got more than one song," Blink muttered.
"We could always use the cover," Race suggested. "I mean, we have that pretty down. And that one song you guys had when I joined. We haven't practiced it in awhile, but we can still use it... Right?"
Blink growled and Dutchy nodded. "I remember it... Itey?"
"Yeah..." he said, seemingly downhearted because the song he'd been so proud of had been shot down by Blink.
"Come on, Gabe, you know I didn't mean that."
"I know..."
"Stop pouting like that, you know I can't stand it when you're down."
"I'm NOT."
"Both of you stop being stupid," Race broke in. "We're gonna be fine. If all else fails, we can get Blink to scream a bit like Robert Plant and Itey can come in with some of his nifty bass solos."
Itey blushed. "Really?"
"Yeah, you kinda rock a lot."
Itey smiled a little bit and ducked his head shyly, and Dutchy pounded him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
"You, on the other hand," Blink said accusatorily.
"--Need to slow the fuck down, we've been through it." Dutchy rolled his eyes.
"Well, you never DO it, so--"
"So shut up, I already know. Jesus, you are a drama queen today." Dutchy crossed his arms and glared a little.
"I am not--" Blink stopped. "Okay, I am. Sue me. I really want us to get this gig; we deserve to be heard. We're good, we just need to iron out a few... kinks. Ya know."
"Yeah, yeah." Dutchy shrugged. "So we've got three."
Race paused for a second. "Guys? Do we even have a name?"
There was a long silence.
"Oh my GOD, are we for real?" Blink groaned and fell backwards on the couch. "We don't have a freaking NAME."
"It shouldn't be too hard." Itey shrugged his shoulders. "You know, something that maybe describes all of us."
"Blink Eyed Mexican Crackaddicts," Dutchy grinned. Race laughed.
Itey rolled his eyes but laughed too. "No. Something that makes people think, I dunno... Led Zeppelin had a great name. The Who--"
"You're only saying the Who because they're your favorite band," Blink snapped. "Come on, maybe we should just be Blink and the... Rockers?"
"You're on crack now," Dutchy accused.
"Oh shut up."
Race bit his lip, thinking, letting all the events of the past few months get inside his head. "Hey, got one."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
There was another pause.
"So, don't keep us in suspense, Tony. We kind of have to be there in an hour, and I'm sure Itey wants to go make sure Jack's not hitting on his girlfriend."
"Of course Jack is hitting on my girlfriend," Itey answered. "He wouldn't be Jack otherwise." He poked Dutchy in the ribs. "Jess likes you."
"She does NOT," Dutchy answered. "She thinks I'm... some freaky drug addict."
"You are," Blink answered.
"I know," Dutchy whined. "And I've had a crush on her since, like, fifth grade and this is the first time she's ever talked to me and I say stupid shit and she thinks I'm on drugs..."
"She likes you," Itey repeated. "I've got this feeling--"
"Ahem," Race interrupted loudly. Itey and Dutchy turned towards him, a little guiltily. "What I was saying before anyone brought up Dutchy's love life--"
"I don't have a love life. That's the freaking problem!"
"Can we please focus?" Blink snapped.
"Right. Well, what I was saying was," Race paused for dramatic emphasis, but then continued quickly before anyone could interrupt him again, "Money City Maniacs."
There was another pause.
"Tony... That's pretty freaking awesome."
The van was insanely cramped. The band didn't have all that much equipment, although the drum set took up a lot of room, but with the amp and the soundboard, the mic, and everyone's instruments, there wasn't a lot of room. Especially not when the band and their hangers on all had to fit inside as well.
Jack was driving, sulking because David hadn't made it home in time to go with them, with Blink (also sulking, because Mush wasn't there yet, either) riding shotgun. Race was shoved in between Spot and Dutchy on one side in the back, with Jessica, Itey and Sophia on the other.
"When did Itey become a pimp?" Jack demanded, glancing back at them. "So totally unfair."
"It's plenty fair," Itey answered cheerfully, and Sophia shoved him a little. He smiled. "You know I've only got eyes for you, Sophie."
"Ahem," Race snapped.
"Screw you," Sophia snapped.
"Way to have sympathy for your poor, disowned older brother."
"I have plenty of sympathy. But you're still a jackass."
Race made a face at her, and Spot rolled his eyes. Spot was looking a little more conscious now; bruised but more alert, and less like he was going to pass out any moment.
"Sooo," Jessica said, and turned to Dutchy. "Do you guys think you'll place?"
"Place?"
"...Place?" Itey repeated.
"Did you guys actually read the flyer Dave gave us?" Race sighed. "They want five acts. It's a competition... Best act last and all."
"Oh."
"You didn't read it, did you?"
"I tried," Itey sulked. "Blink kept grabbing it and freaking out."
"Hey!" Blink yelled from the front. "I did not!"
"You did SO!"
"He did," Dutchy assured everyone else.
"So," Jessica said again, "do you think you'll place?"
Dutchy, not realizing she'd asked him, didn't answer. So Itey sighed and reached over Jessica to poke him.
"Ow! What?!" Itey nodded his head at Jessica, who was waiting expectantly, and then he turned beat red. "OH! Uh...well, uh... that-that is... we... well... Tony good drum."
A silence followed.
Dutchy slumped in his seat.
"You're so stupid," Jack said. "I love it."
"Fuck you," Itey snapped. "Leave him alone."
"What's with you?" Jack asked.
"You hitting on my girlfriend all day is what's up with me!"
"Not my fault you're not man enough."
"WHAT did you say!?"
Itey didn't get mad too often, and when did, everyone was a little started. He glanced around the van to discover everyone staring at him, Dutchy with a particularly perverse smile. He didn't speak much after that. He kind of huddled into Sophia, looking scared.
Sophia was more than happy to put an arm around him, and looked kind of smug about the whole thing. Jack looked fairly annoyed, though no one else saw, because he was up front. There was quiet for a minute, and then Sophia's phone rang.
"Christ, if that's Dad--" Race started.
"It's Michael," she said, glancing at the display, and hitting the answer button. "Your boyfriend is a drama queen," she said with no greeting. There was a pause while Mush answered, and she started laughing.
"What?" Blink demanded. "What did he say?!"
"He says it's probably cute and we're just jealous."
Blink grinned. Everyone else rolled their eyes, though Itey squeezed Sophia's hand and Race leaned into Spot a little bit.
Sophia continued to talk for another minute before hanging up. "They'll meet us at the club," she announced. "And Mush is pretty upset about something but didn't want to talk."
"What?" Blink demanded. "Is he--give me your phone! Is he okay?"
"He's fine. He said he'd fill us in." She shrugged.
"Is Davey okay?" Jack asked.
"Awwwww," Spot cooed, and Jack flipped him off vaguely, keeping his eyes on the road.
"He's fine. Michael didn't say much; I guess they got into a yelling match on the way out or something which is why they're late."
"What?" Race frowned. "Neither of them has yelled at anyone in their lives."
Sophia shrugged. "He's doing alright."
"I can't believe you married my boyfriend." Blink shook his head. Sophia smiled.
"I'm his favorite."
"Are not!"
"Turn right, Jack," Itey interrupted.
"Are you good?" Jessica asked Dutchy.
"Uh?" His voice cracked. "Kinda?" Jessica raised an eyebrow. "I play too fast!"
"Oh..."
"I kind of suck."
"Oh?"
"ARGH!"
"Oh, Dutchy, don't... don't bang your head against the window..."
Really, everyone decided to stay out of Jess and Dutchy's conversation. They were getting close now, and soon Jack was pulling into their parking space.
Race looked over at Spot, and smiled. "You doing okay?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
Spot looked at him, still glowering, but kissed him anyway. "Yeah. I'm good."
"Good."
Race kissed him quickly and they began to file out of the car, and as Spot limped out (he wasn't sure how the hell his ankle had gotten hurt), Mush and David pulled in two parking spots down. Blink all but ran to and jumped on his boyfriend; the three of them walked back to the group a little more calmly.
"You look fine, so what's--"
"Spot, what the hell happened to your face?" David demanded, interrupting Blink.
Spot shrugged. "Fight."
"Duh. With--" He paused. "Hey, Jess."
"Hey, Davey, long time no see."
"How do you know her?" Dutchy whined.
"Middle school student council," David answered. "So... Since you're here, I'm guessing Steve?"
"Yeah. Bastard."
"You okay?"
"Would everyone stop asking me that? I'm fucking FABULOUS," Spot snarled.
"Well, you sound like you usually do." David rolled his eyes a little, and Spot shoved him into Jack, who put a protective arm around him. Blink glanced at them, then caught Spot's eye, and they both started snickering. "Shut up," David muttered, but didn't disentangle himself from Jack.
"So... We kind of also had a run in. Nothing so... Uh, really violent..." Mush said, glancing at Spot's bruises. "But yeah."
"But yeah what?" Blink demanded.
"Rumors." David sighed. "About Tony and why he wasn't in school today."
Racetrack groaned and buried his head in Spot's shoulder.
David continued, "So... Scott Blake--"
"The fuckhead," Mush interrupted darkly.
"--picked up where he left off when Tony broke his nose two years ago--"
"What is it with you two and people's noses?" Blink asked Spot and Race.
"--and started saying some pretty mean stuff about Tony and Mush and we, uh..."
"Lost it?" Mush suggested.
David nodded. "I punched him!"
Jack grinned. "Really?"
"Really!"
"Good job!"
"Jackie's proud of you," Spot said, pouting his lips. "Isn't that SWEET."
"Fuck you, scarface."
"You're gonna be late," Sophia supplied. "You have about five minutes to--"
"GAAH!" Blink yelped. "OKAY EVERYONE STOP TALKING LET'S GET GOING MUSH YOU STOP DISTRACTING ME JESSICA STOP DISTRACING DUTCHY SOPHIA STOP DISTRACT--"
CLANG!
Blink tumbled over slightly, because most people would tumble slightly after being smoked in the head with a cymbal.
"Would you shut up?" Race asked.
Everyone started to laugh as Blink shook the ringing out of his ears. "Okay, Davey and Mush, help me with my drums."
Mush and David both had done this before, once or twice, and hurried to the van.
"Sophie, can you carry the soundboard?" Itey asked. She nodded, and Jack scoffed.
"She's a lady, Itey, don't ask her to carry things."
Sophia kicked his shin.
"Everyone is mean to me," Jack sulked.
"I'm nice to you," David answered, as he began organizing parts of the drum to pass out to Race and Mush.
"Of course you are," Blink smirked.
"Blink, get the amp, and also, shut up," David answered.
"So..." Jack mumbled. "You punched him?"
"Well, not hard."
Mush chuckled.
"Shut up, Mush."
Mush started laughing. "Sorry, Dave. I know it's a rude sexist cliche and all, but you hit like a girl."
"Shut up, Mush."
"You do.
"Shut--"
"Hey, broken record, back to work," Race interrupted, then, "You... seriously... You hit Scott?"
"Yeah. Uh, I think I hurt my hand more than I hurt him."
"What about your scholarship?"
David didn't say anything, and Race stopped working for a minute.
"Davey, don't get in trouble for me," he said, putting his hand on David's shoulder.
David shrugged and brushed his hand off. "It wasn't a real fight or anything. And he laughed at me anyway, so I think I'm okay. Aside from the wounded pride."
"On the other hand," Mush mused, "some of those insults were really impressive."
"Yeah, well... I'm better at talking than fighting."
"Clearly," Mush answered.
"Shut up."
"Less talking, more packing," Dutchy announced. Jessica came up to him as he was taking out his guitar case.
"What kind of guitar?" she asked.
Dutchy shrugged. "Fen...der..."
She nodded. "I don't know much about guitars. I was just...asking."
"Oh," Dutchy shrugged, then smiled a little when he kind of got the gist of what she said. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiled, and then Dutchy turned to mush again.
Race laughed as he watched them, and then slipped his arm around David's waist and gave him a squeeze before pulling away. "Thanks Davey...you're the best mom ever."
David laughed. "It's true."
Inside, they were directed where to set up and given a few forms to fill out, and everyone waited kind of nervously for someone to appear to judge them. They all sat against the wall, as the only chair in the room was Race's stool and the ones clearly meant for the judges, and no one was really sure what to say.
"So, Steve and Scott should totally hang out," Race finally muttered.
"Seriously, they're like long lost twins," David answered. "Spot, did you ice--"
"Yes, I iced the bruises. Christ, it's not like I've never been in a fight before, I fucking know what I'm doing."
Jack sighed a little, and Itey mused, "It was kind of... I guess in a mean way, it was kind of satisfying to see Steve crying on the pavement."
"You made him cry?" Blink demanded. "Fucking sweet!"
"Blinkee..." Mush trailed off.
"I know, violence is bad, pacifism is good, whatever. You telling me you didn't like watching someone punch Scott Blake?"
Mush bit his lip, and admitted, "...It was pretty awesome when Tony broke his nose for me."
Race rolled his eyes, but smiled a little.
And then the door opened, and three people walked in. Two women and a man, ranging from what looked like their late twenties to late forties, carrying clipboards and looking pretty serious for people who were in charge of booking the club's shows.
"Forms, please," the woman said. Itey, who'd taken care of the form filling, handed her the stack of paper, and she scanned her eyes over each one quickly, before glancing at him. "You the leader?"
Itey eeped, and Blink, Dutchy and Race jumped in with a monotone "sure" before he could say anything. Mainly because Itey was the only responsible one in the group.
"All right. Set up," she said, and when she saw that only four people started towards the stage, raised her eyebrow at Spot, Sophia, Jessica, Mush, Jack and David. "Who are all of you?"
"Roadies?" Jack suggested.
"Wait outside."
"The ladies can sit with us, if they want to," said the older, slightly overweight man in his forties, waggling his eyebrows.
Jessica wrinkled her nose a little, but Sophia made a puking noise. From the stage, everyone winced. Insulting judges was not a good start.
Finally, the 'roadies' filed out of the room, and Money City Maniacs was left standing on stage.
F: OH MY GOD WHERE HAVE WE BEEN??
B: I don't even KNOW. Where does the time go during senior year?
F: Where does the time go when all I do is school? And more school? And working?
B: And school, and work, and school, and work, and school and school and school and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh.
F: We're both dead. Then we died some more because we never had time to talk to each other...I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.
B: I missed you tooooooooooo... I didn't see her online for weeks and weeks. Seriously. This is the first time we've been online at the same time in a whole month.
F: Through NO fault of our own. Then through some work of god, WOAH, THERE WE ARE, ONLINE AT ONCE.
B: And the first thing we're doing is updating the fic. Aren't you proud of us? We missed you guys, too. ::sniffle::
F: We missed the fic and all of you and each other and...::bawls:: I--I can't say anymore, I'm too emotional.
B: Me too. And exhausted from two freaking all nighters in a row. I HATE FINALS. Goodnight.
F: GOODNIGHT.
This chapter was celebrated by pizza pops.