A few weeks came and went, and September drifted into October. The amounts of golden fallen leaves on the streets were prosperous. Richard and Raven trudged through the quad, leaves crunching underfoot and entered the school building to make it in time for first period. "We have history every single morning," Raven droned irritably as she and her friend squeezed through the hustle and bustle of the students coming from the opposite direction. "Why can't we have a block schedule, like how they do at normal high schools? I have to spend forty-five minutes of every day with Rorek taking jabs at my last name. 'Conte' is synonymous with 'story', but you don't see me saying anything about it." For some reason Raven said the last part louder than everything else, as if wanting the other people around them to take notice of what she was saying.
Richard nodded numbly in agreement to whatever Raven was complaining about at the moment. A block schedule actually seemed like the right idea there; seeing Kitten only every other school day sounded like a done deal. He groaned, knowing that the chances of that happening were very slim. He would have to tell the cheerleader off somehow, and certainly sometime soon.
Surprisingly, Rorek lay off his usual jeering that period. That didn't stop the uneasy and distasteful looks from being sent Raven's way behind Lenard's back. The teenaged girl ignored them, not wanting to satisfy the other students with any kind of reaction, but it felt as if her own insides were writhing with the discomfort she was experiencing.
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"…and that's when Mr. Doyen said that my painting was inexpressive and lacked substance. I slaved over that project for days; it's appalling how someone like him even bothered to become an art teacher!"
Jinx chuckled, dipping the fat paintbrush in her hand into a small vat of purple paint. She was in art class, seated on a wooden stool before an easel. The room was situated so that the students sat in a large circle, so that Mr. Doyen could navigate through easily to observe the pupils as they worked. Next to the pink-haired girl sat Mammoth, a boy her age who was nicknamed for his tall stature and was the one complaining about the teacher quietly so as not to be overheard. "Well, so far you've made three creations and Doyen here hasn't approved of any of them," Jinx mused. "I propose that we teach him a little lesson on appreciation." She indicated the paint-covered brush she held, as a bulbous purple pearl slowly dripped down the bristle tips. Mr. Doyen now had his back turned, perfectly vulnerable.
Now it was Mammoth's turn to snicker. "You've already gotten a detention, haven't you? Sure you haven't had enough yet?"
"You wound me, Mammoth. Are you suggesting that you condemn my malicious ways?" Jinx pretended to pout.
Mammoth smirked. "Go for it."
Jinx gave her unfinished painting one last glance. So sorry, my dear masterpiece. But I fight for a good cause! She submerged the brush one last time into the brightly-colored swill, loading it with the amount of ammunition she needed. As Mr. Doyen unsuspectingly conversed critically with one of the students across the room, Jinx aimed carefully with her weapon, and fired.
With a celebratory splat, Mr. Doyen suddenly found himself donning a large drippy purple spot on the top of his head.
"Miss Diablo! I will see you in detention!"
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It was break. Raven was at her locker, putting her books away, when a sudden vibration in her jeans pocket caught her attention. Setting down the last notebook, she withdrew her cell phone and flipped it open. She'd received a text message from Jinx.
Wont make it 4 break, dearie. Dtention. Plz tell the others. :p
Jinx
It was just logical to assume that Jinx would boast about getting detention for the second time that year. If only she knew how many times Rorek has gotten detention slips, Raven thought. She would be instantly put to shame. Then again, Jinx could hardly be considered a "bad girl"; Raven had known kids who got more detentions back in middle school.
The hallway was almost empty. Raven began to trudge to the door that led outside when it suddenly opened before she could reach it. Before her stood a lanky sophomore boy. "Excuse me," she muttered, but the boy didn't let her pass. Instead he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms.
"You're Raven Roth, aren't you?" he asked coldly.
A knot formed in her stomach. "What's it to you?" she bit back, trying to conceal her fear.
"I'm Terrence Mills," the boy now known as Terrence replied. "You may have heard of my uncle, Andrew Mills."
"I may have." Raven tried to edge around Terrence but he blocked her way again.
"Your father murdered my uncle," he spat, his eyes burning with hatred. "Your father murdered my uncle and you knew what was happening all along!"
"I did not!" Raven protested, but a fist came flying and collided with her stomach. With the wind knocked out of her, she dropped her book bag and keeled over to the floor, gasping for breath.
"Don't give me that shit!" Terrence barked, grabbing her fallen bag and hurling it down at her. "You knew what he was doing all along and you wouldn't do anything about it!"
"I was eleven years old!" Raven choked, only to be silenced by a sloppy kick flying over her head.
"And I'll bet you even enjoyed it!" Terrence raved, beginnings of hot angry tears welling in his eyes. "Your father was a psycho and you must be a psycho too! That kind of thing's hereditary!
"If I ever see your face again, you're going to be in real trouble!" Terrence swore, pointing down at her. He burned through Raven's eyes with one last look of loathing, and fled through the doors and into the outside world.
Raven shakily sat up until she was kneeling on the cold tile floor. Through the glass windows on the doors, she could see sunlight ebbing into the cold building. She wished that she were out there, with Richard and Kori and Garfield and Victor, instead of having just collapsed and spoken to like a murderer. If she had just gotten out of the building one minute quicker, none of what had just happened would have happened.
"I didn't know," she mouthed, looking down at her hands. With a shuddering breath, she hastily gathered her things and slinked out the doors.
XXXXX
"I've had it," Richard declared suddenly.
Kori, Garfield, and Victor looked at him weirdly.
"Uh, had what, dude?" Garfield questioned.
"I've had enough of Kitten," Richard clarified, jabbing a thumb at Kitten, sitting among a large group of popular students inhabiting a nearby picnic bench, who batted her eyes feverishly at him. "Do you have any idea of what it's like to be stalked? I'm going to go over there and knock some sense into that blond little head of hers."
"Yeah, well, come back alive," Victor said.
"Yes, do come back in one piece," Kori added hesitantly as Richard stood up and crossed the grass to where Kitten stood.
The conversation that followed could be heard throughout the entire school.
"WHAT? ROBBIE, HOW COULD YOUUUU?"
"Kitten, what're you—"
"AFTER ALL WE'VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU'RE GONNA BREAK ME OFF JUST LIKE THAT?"
"Please, don't make a scene--!"
"WAAAAH!"
"Hey!" said a brawny male voice. "What did you do to Kitten?"
"I didn't do anything! I was just—"
"Why I oughta--!"
"AAAAUUGH!"
"Wow," Garfield drawled. "He's so confused he's forgotten that he knows karate."
"Ow," Victor winced. "I'd hate to be him right now."
Kori had her hands placed firmly over her eyes. She peered through her fingers. "Oh, please be all right!"
Moments later Richard returned; he walked with a slight limp and his hair was badly disheveled. "Hehe…I sure told her, didn't I guys?"
His three friends stared in disbelief.
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A/N: Heh, can't you just imagine Mammoth being an artist:D No idea where I got that from, but it's fun to envision. I've got images of him wearing a smock and a beret as I type.