A/N: Oh yeah! This chapter got a lot done. We get to see...um...maybe I shouldn't talk about it, seeing as how some people haven't read yet.
OH! I bought a new guitar the other day! I was so stoked. I got an electric, it's an Orange County Chopper. It's so pretty...for the price I got it at, it was a good deal (only a hundred bucks). One of the music stores in my city was having a huge sale. Everything was half off or more. I also got a fifteen watt amp (just something to start with). I really, really, really love my new guitar. Not to mention, the guy who helped me buy it, was kind of cute. Maybe it was the fact he could play the guitar, or maybe because he had this whole Sean Astin charisma going on...but I thought he was cute.
Anyways...
ENJOY!
Chapter 5: Playing Hooky Is Bad
Marta crossed the cafeteria, taking her seat at the usual School of Rock table. Zack and Katie were already there, talking about guitar strings or something along those lines. Michelle and Eleni were chatting and laughing, mostly gossiping, and Tomika was trading parts of her lunch with Frankie.
"Hey guys," she greeted, receiving nods of acknowledgment. She took her seat, beginning in on her lunch, "Freddy ditched," she said flatly.
"We know," Katie informed her, "He wasn't in English."
"Or math," Zack put in.
"Or science," Tomika piped.
"Yeah," Marta mumbled, a little sheepishly. She should have figured they'd all know already. She opened her bag of chips, popping one in her mouth, as everyone resumed talking. She tapped her foot, ate a few more chips, brushed her hair from her eyes, "Aren't any of you at least mad, or worried, or something, that he's not at school?" she finally asked, impatient.
"Why would we be?" Zack questioned reasonably, "It's not like this is the first time he's done this."
"I guess not," Marta muttered, and the next part fell from her mouth before she could stop it, "Don't you guys wish he would stop, or something?"
"Okay, apparently we're supposed to talk about Freddy," Katie announced, and everyone straightened with mock looks of interest, "So let's chat about Freddy."
"Oh my," Frankie exclaimed tauntingly, "He's not here today. What ever will we do?"
"Not here today?" Michelle teasingly gasped, "Where could he be?"
"Freddy, partake in such a delinquent act as playing hooky? Never," Zack threw in, and Marta slumped in her chair, cradling her chin in her hand.
"Okay, guys, I get it," she muttered, "Sheesh. You guys don't even sound like you care…"
"We do care, Marta," Zack interjected, "We just don't have the energy to care about every little stupid thing he does."
"Well, I do," Marta muttered as quietly as she could, before turning a deep red, and preoccupying herself with her food. No one felt the need to question the behavior, most overlooking it anyways. Alicia came up to sit in between Marta and Michelle, her eyes alight with what was obviously juicy news.
"Summer isn't at school today," she beamed, and everyone stared at her in shock.
"Yes, she is. I saw her this morning," Eleni protested, "We talked for, like, two minutes."
"Well," Alicia took a deep breath, smiling despite the grave severity of what she was saying, "According to a reliable source, she was last seen at her locker this morning talking with Freddy, or arguing more like it. And then, she was gone." Zack looked to Marta.
"Now, this is a stupid thing we have the energy to care about," he told her. She frowned at her food.
"I'm going to check the restrooms," Katie sighed, pushing herself up.
"For what?" a few of the band mates questioned.
"What else? Summer," Katie shrugged, "If what Alicia says is true…" Alicia looked hurt at the implication anything she'd say would be false, "Then Summer's probably upset and locked herself in some restroom somewhere."
"She probably deserved whatever he said to her," Marta commented, "Have you all completely forgotten yesterday…I sure as hell am not going to apologize to her. I mean, after what she's thinking of doing to all of us."
"Summer's one of your best friends, Marta," Katie snapped, "Why are you acting so pretentious about this whole thing? You could at least be happy for…"
"Hey, have you guys seen Summer?" a young man's voice interrupted the group, "You're her friends, right?" They all turned, Kyle standing in front of them, staring expectantly.
"We were just about ready to go find her, actually," Katie admitted, attempting a warm smile. The rest of the group, however, narrowed their eyes at him in unwelcome glares. First he wants to be Summer's boyfriend, then he wants her to be his manager, and now he dared to ask them where she was. Who did this boy think he was, coming to steal their Summer away?
"What's going on?" Kyle questioned, easily picking up on the thickly tense atmosphere.
"Summer's probably around…" Katie began, with a nervous chuckle. She knew Kyle's past with Freddy, and had no intention of mentioning the drummer's name in regards to Summer's sudden disappearance.
"She was supposed to meet me for lunch. I've tried calling her cell phone. She picked up once, and some guy told her to hang up…I thought she might be in a class somewhere, maybe working on a project, and you all might be able to tell me," Kyle began. Katie felt her stomach fall, and the looks on the rest of the band members' faces suggested they were piecing things together as well.
"Um…this guy that told her to hang up…he didn't sound…like a blonde drummer with a habit of causing trouble, did he?" Oh, Katie didn't want to ask that question, and she really didn't want him to answer it. Kyle narrowed his eyes at her, obviously confused, "Never mind…"
"Do you know where Summer is, or not?"
"She wouldn't," Marta protested, staring at Katie with wide eyes, "He wouldn't."
"Who wouldn't what?" Kyle demanded, "Where's Summer? Do any of you know…?"
"Oh, no, of course not, dude," Zack lied, whispering to Katie, "Go call them." Kyle looked between the group a moment, before seeming satisfied with the answer and turning to leave. The gang let out their breaths as a collective whole, until…
"You guys cannot possibly be thinking that she ditched with him," Marta cried, exasperated, and the others went wide-eyed as Kyle was brought to a sudden halt.
"Marta," Zack hissed, and the others shook their heads at her. She looked confused, hurt even.
"But you guys, Freddy was really pissed off with Summer, there's no way he'd skip school with her," she continued. Kyle leaned on the table, looking dangerously at them all.
"Freddy? As in, Freddy Jones?" And Marta saw her mistake.
0-0-
"Freddy," Summer cried, jogging to keep up with the boy's quick pace, "Freddy Jones, will you slow down! Where are we going?" Freddy paused, looked back at her.
"I don't know. Where do you want to go?"
Summer gave an exasperated cry. She fell to the curb, tired. They'd been walking for at least fifteen minutes since leaving school, and she wasn't certain where they were headed. Now to find out Freddy himself had no idea where they were going…she just hated the randomness of it all. The only surprises she liked were pop quizzes.
"What do you usually do when you ditch?" Summer questioned, staring up at Freddy expectantly. He shrugged, fell down to sit beside her.
"Go home…get wasted," he shrugged.
"No, seriously," Summer insisted. He frowned, raising an eyebrow.
"I am being serious. I go home, I get wasted. Did you want to do that?" He was joking, of course, but Summer still made a disgusted face, standing up abruptly and looking longingly back in the direction of the school. Freddy groaned, "Don't tell me you want to go back!"
"I…well…" Summer frowned, looking down at her uniform, "I…want to go home and change, is all." Freddy brightened, standing up beside her as she turned to face him, "I mean, we can't very well skip out on school and walk around in our uniforms, right?"
"Great," Freddy grinned, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her further away from Horace Green campus. He seemed to know where a bus stop was, nearby a grocery store a few blocks from the school. In fact, he seemed to know the area fairly well.
Summer frowned, staring in awe at the advertisements surrounding the grated bench, covered in graffiti. A woman was sitting on the bench, the only other person waiting at the stop. She was elderly, gray hair pulled back in a little bun, a musty coat hanging over her shoulders, wrinkled hands, dark skin, and a grocery bag sitting in her lap. Summer moved closer to Freddy as a group of boys, their age, came up to the bench. They were probably students from a local high school, she realized. They looked like they belonged in prison, she thought, with their oversized jeans, greased hair stlyes, loose shirts and loud mouths. Freddy gave her a quizzical look, glanced at the boys, and grinned somewhat, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She jumped, as a vibration went off in her pack.
"What is that?" Freddy asked, and Summer hastily removed her cell phone, flipping it open and pressing it to her ear.
"Hello…" she began into the phone, when Freddy's hand encompassed her own and pulled it away, covering the mouthpiece as best he could.
"Hang up, right now," he hissed, and their bus-waiting companions gave them wary glances.
"Why?" Summer questioned, confused.
"Now!"
Summer closed the cell phone, shoving it back in her pack. She glowered up at Freddy, who was in turn, glowering down at her.
"Summer, how often do you answer your cell at school?" Freddy asked in an insistent whisper, and realization dawned on her. She shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and was startled when the bus pulled up.
"Come on," Freddy called, heading towards the open door. She stood gaping.
"We're riding the bus?" she asked dumbly.
Freddy rolled his eyes, grabbing Summer's hand and dragging her up the dirty steps. He dropped some change from his pocket into a black box beside the driver and led the awestruck girl to the back. The bus was empty for the most part, what with it being late morning. Most people were at work or school. They took a seat beside one another on the hard plastic bench, and the rest of the people who'd been waiting filed on, dropping their change in the Fare-box and taking seats of their own.
"This bus should take us to a stop a few blocks from your house," Freddy said, knowledgably, and Summer simply nodded, stupefied. She stared out at the bus, entranced.
The boys from the bus stop were laughing and talking loudly, while the old woman sat patiently, grasping her bag to herself. The bus driver was a middle-aged man, wearing his blue uniform and blue hat, looking like a squashed can turned upside down. Gray squiggles of hair sprouted out from under that cap, and he leaned more than held onto the large wheel of the bus. A giant beer-gut spilled out over his lap, and he sighed every now and then. He waited a few more moments, before swinging the door shut and pulling back out onto the road. Summer broke from her trance, looking around in shock.
"Are there no seatbelts?" she asked, feeling around on the plastic chair as if thinking one would magically appear beneath her fingertips. Freddy glanced at her, a bemused smirk on his face.
"Haven't you ever ridden a bus before?" he asked and Summer blushed furiously. Was he laughing at her?
"The school buses, yes," she pointed out, and he shook his head.
"Oh, well you got me there," he mocked, leaning back leisurely, and stretching out his legs. One pressed against Summer's, and while she flushed, he seemed not to notice; closing his eyes and looking ready to take a nap.
"My mom says that girls get raped when they ride the bus," Summer blurted out in a low whisper, as though she needed to explain why she was naïve on the matter of riding buses. He opened one eye to look at her, trying to discern if she was serious. He grinned, closing it again.
"Yeah, it's like, tradition. Whenever a girl steps on, the guys just pounce her," he joked, and Summer congealed where she sat, winding her hands around one another. They turned pinkish white, from being held so tightly. She stared at them. Freddy brushed his hand against her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear, and she smiled at the comforting motion, "Don't worry, Summer. I'll protect you from being raped," he said, lightly cynical. She smirked.
"Oh, and what's to protect me from you," she teased.
"Come on, you trust me, right?"
She looked up, grinning to him, cheekily replying, "Not in the least."
0-0-
It was nearly twenty minutes later when the bus pulled up to a stop in an area Summer found familiar. She jumped off the bus, waving energetically to the driver, who smiled somewhat and straightened slightly. Freddy trudged behind, wary of her restlessness. They walked in relative silence, their uniforms clinging guiltily to their bodies, as if branding them for what they were doing. Summer led the way, for the most part, but it become more than obvious, Freddy knew the area well-enough himself. He seemed to be surprising her with a lot of previously non-displayed knowledge.
They paused on the porch of Summer's house as she fumbled to pull her keys from her pack. Freddy looked around, studying the house in the light of day now. He frowned. It still left the same feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was anxious to find out if the inside still smelled the same, to see what the house looked like on the inside, the furniture, everything, when illuminated with bright, natural sunlight. Friday night, most of the lights had been turned out, so he hadn't been able to see anything. Now, he wanted to. He desperately wanted to. Just to see if it matched the outside; cozy, warm, inviting, welcoming, lived-in.
The outside itself was different now that it was daytime. Yet, similar. The walls, he found, were not really a brown color like he'd thought, but more of a deep beige with a white trim. The front windows had white drapes drawn over them, and they appeared to be stained with dust, somewhat. The lawn was well kept, but looked as though it were overdue for mowing, and there were little flower bushes lining the walls of the house. There was a mat, on the doorstep, that he had noticed on Friday night, but hadn't really looked at. It was shaggy, brown, with stiff bristles and pine nettles were caught in it along with clingy dirt. The bold black letters, 'Wipe your Paws', was accentuated with decorative animal paw prints littered across it. It made him smile, though he didn't know why, so he scowled at it.
Summer managed to unlock the door, swinging it open and stepping in. Freddy remained glued to the doorstep. The smell wafted out at him; stale, musky, divine. Yes, almost exactly the same as Friday, but different as well. The front entryway was a square of tile, that broke into brown carpet, stretching the length of the household. He was staring in at, what appeared to be, the den, which broke off into a stairway to one side, and a hallway beyond that, and more rooms separated by walls. He watched enviously as Summer waltzed in, right at home. Of course, it was her home. She stretched, dropping her pack to the couch in the den. He hadn't noticed it. A large white sofa, the unmatching throw pillows knocked about on the worn cushions. There was a potted plant beside the door, wilting somewhat, and pictures that he couldn't get a good look at from where he stood, hanging on the walls and propped up in frames on tables and shelves. There were magazines scattered over the long, low reaching, table set in front of the sofa. Magazines were spread out over the table, yesterday's newspaper was gutted around them, and the remote control topped it all. A coaster sat on an end-table, with a dirty empty glass on top of it. There was a fairly decent sized television propped on an entertainment shelf, along with a cheap VCR and DVD player.
Summer turned back, looking confusedly at Freddy. He shook himself, trying to appear as though he hadn't just been staring.
"Aren't you coming in?" Summer asked, and Freddy flustered. He attempted to move forward, couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't belong there, in that family home. Summer walked back to him, slowly, eyeing him curiously. She stood in front of him, much like Friday night, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips together, "Why are you just standing there? Come in."
"Can I?" he mumbled, looking a little sheepish, feeling like an idiot. Of course, he could, she just told him to.
Summer arched her eyebrow, and Freddy ran a sweaty hand over the back of his neck, uncertain. She tried to search him, tried to catch his eye, as though through a gaze he could pass on his feelings, thoughts, desires, fears, everything.
"Yeah, I'm just…" he attempted to regain his more confident air, "Taking my…"
Suddenly, Summer's eyes went wide. She grabbed onto Freddy's wrist, dragging him in the house and slamming the door shut behind him. He looked at her, bewildered, but she offered no explanation, running to the window and peeking out through the drapes.
"What was that about?" he demanded, shaken, and realizing, with an oddly sick feeling, he was inside Summer's house, and the smell and warmth was suddenly clinging to his body, soaking into his skin.
"Mrs. Fuller," Summer spat with disgust, "She's our neighbor, lives in the blue house across the street. It doesn't look like she saw us…oh, she would just love the opportunity to tell my mother she saw me out of school…"
Freddy walked around the room, slowly, hesitantly. He ran his eyes over the white walls, the golden picture frames. He squinted at one, a small toddler with short black hair tied up in pigtails stared back, smiling a familiarly bright smile. He brushed his hand over the sofa. It felt rough and soft all at once. He wanted to sit on it, but it seemed so clean and crisp and pure, he was afraid if he did he would leave behind a large black mark.
"So, she's a real bitch, huh?" he commented, thinking he should. Summer glanced over her shoulder at him.
"You," she started, and he looked at her in surprise, "Oh, if she had seen you! She'd of had a field day, she'd of been doing back flips across her lawn! Just the chance to tell the entire neighborhood that she had seen someone like you on my doorstep…" Summer sighed, still staring out the window, watching with narrowed eyes the woman across the way, "You can sit down," she told him, glancing over her shoulder. He looked at the couch uncomfortably, uncertain, looking back up at her. She'd already returned to the window, holding her breath, "I think she's leaving…good, the old hag," she let the drape fall back into place.
Freddy took a deep breath, choosing to sit on the end of the sofa, and relaxing into the cushion, when a ball of black fur leapt into his lap. He startled, jumping and giving a startled gasp. Summer turned to him, shocked and wide-eyed, ready to question until she saw what had riled him up. Her facial features softened, and she smiled, crossing the room to pick up the ball of fur.
"It's just a cat," she laughed, bringing the animal to her chest and burying her nose in the scruff of its neck. Freddy stared at it with owl eyes, on edge. It blinked at him with yellow orbs, and he stiffened, "Felix," Summer scolded, in a soft, gentle tone, "You know better then to jump into guests' laps." She lifted it into the air, so that it faced her, its lithe body dangling down, its tail twitching from side to side. She supported its bottom with her other hand, "What have you been up to, baby?" she questioned, bringing it down to kiss its nose, and it returned the gesture, licking Summer's face joyfully.
Freddy watched uncertainly, unmoving. His eyes darted around the house, searching for more.
"Is that the only one?" he asked, and Summer giggled at him, placing Felix back on the ground and stroking its fur. It stretched, languidly, before sitting to stare up at Freddy. He stared back, hands pressed into the sofa cushion and the arm of the seat, ready to jump up should the cat make a move.
Summer walked away, disappearing down the hall.
"How did I know you were a cat person?" he called after her, eyes never leaving the animal. It lifted a paw to begin cleaning itself. It paused every now and then, to shoot Freddy what he decided was an evil glare. "Why's it looking at me like that?" he demanded.
"Huh?" Summer came back, and Freddy turned to look at her over his shoulder. She was pulling her hair back into an elastic band, but that's not what held his gaze. She was barefoot, first of all, her stockings gone, leaving her legs bare. They were thin, pale white, and while not the nicest legs he'd ever seen, he still felt the heat rise up his neck. Her blouse was no longer tucked into her skirt, and the top few buttons where undone. Her blazer was gone altogether. He'd never seen her look so relaxed and casual. She smiled at him, laughing slightly, "You're sitting in his chair."
"What?" Freddy mumbled, then realizing she meant the cat, he looked back to the black feline in reproach, "I'm so sorry," he drawled, "I didn't know it had a chair." Summer shook her head.
"I don't have anything for you to change into," she informed him, and he shrugged.
"You don't have a brother or something," he questioned, "Maybe you're dad…" Summer fidgeted, busying herself with straightening her hair, "It's cool, I'll just…wear my uniform."
"We could stop by your house, couldn't we?"
"No," he winced. He'd said that too fast, "My dad…might…um…be home."
"You said…" Summer started, but deciding it wasn't worth the argument, turned towards the stairs, "Felix, come on," she called, and the cat darted after her, to Freddy's relief, "I'll be just a minute."
Freddy listened as she creaked upwards to the rest of the house, leaving him there alone. He heard a door shut upstairs, figuring it was her bedroom door, and tapped his knees lightly. After a short moment, he grew bored and restless, standing up and exploring the den more. He lifted a few pictures, examined others. One was of an elderly woman and man, holding hands, arms wrapped around the same little girl with the bright smile. There was a picture of a man, who had Summer's eyes and smile, and light blonde hair. He was young, in his twenties or something, and wearing a military uniform. The picture itself looked old. He sniffed, wandering towards the hallway. He stared down it, half-expecting an invisible force field to jump up and block him from continuing down. It didn't.
The stairs led up through the first floor's ceiling, and Freddy glanced up them, trying to see where they broke off into. A hallway, whose many rooms he couldn't see. He continued down the hall that lay before him. There were more pictures of people he didn't recognize. A little boy with black hair and a missing front tooth, arm strapped about the little girl that Freddy finally decided must be Summer. They were standing around a small pool, at a house that was smaller and more run-down then the house he was walking through. To one side of the hall was a bathroom, and then a nook where a washer and dryer were set up. He peeked in. The floor was tiled, and stacks of dirty clothes were piled, along with clean ones neatly folded in a basket. There was a door, and he thought it probably led to the garage.
The hall itself ended in the dining room, where a small oak table was set up. The dining room connected to the small kitchen, white counters separating the two rooms. There was a white refrigerator, a stack of dishes in the sink, a plate on the bar counter with unfinished toast and a half a glass of orange juice. The Wallstreet Journal was folded neatly beside the plate. Freddy smirked, deciding this must be Summer's left over breakfast. The refrigerator was littered with an odd assortment of plastic magnets. Summer's straight A report card was stuck on there, along with more pictures, and another report card, the name 'Austin' at the top, straight A's as well. The report card was for another school, the name Freddy didn't recognize. It was another high school. He glanced between the two, before noticing an out-of-place 'B' on Summer's report card, circled in red pen.
In the corner of the refrigerator was another photo of Summer standing beside a tall young man. Freddy squinted his eyes at it. Summer had to have been about fourteen in the photo, he remembered because of her long hair, before she'd gotten it cut short again. The boy looked about fifteen, sixteen. Black hair and a cream white complexion as well. Neither teens looked happy. They were standing away from one another. Summer's hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans, the boy's arms crossed over his chest. They were at the same rundown house with the pool.
"What are you doing?" Summer's voice questioned, and Freddy started, spinning around, his back pressed against the refrigerator. He smiled guiltily. She had her lips pursed, her brows arched, her hands on her hips. She had changed into blue jeans and a pink button down, long sleeve shirt. The buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves had yet to be done up, hanging low past the palm of her hands, and a few loose strands of hair had escaped her ponytail, falling into her face. She had white cotton socks on.
"I was just…" Freddy mumbled, glancing around for an excuse as to why he'd wandered into her kitchen, "I was thirsty." She peeked over his shoulder, at the picture he'd been staring at moments before.
"My brother," she explained, her tone was dark, "He goes to the public high school." Freddy looked surprised. He didn't know she had a brother. She'd always struck him as the type to be an only child. He wondered if anyone else in the band knew, then realized someone must, maybe they all did. Then he made a connection. The pictures, the report cards…
"Austin?" he took a shot in the dark.
"Yeah. That picture was two summers ago, at our grandparents house," she turned away, heading towards one of the cabinets and swinging it open, grabbing out a plastic cup, "What did you want?"
"Huh?"
"To drink?" she looked expectantly at him, "You said you were thirsty."
"Oh, yeah," he murmured, then smirked, "Rum, if you got it." Summer rolled her eyes, not appreciative of the joke. "Water's fine." She filled the glass and handed it over.
Freddy took a sip, as Summer wandered away, lifting up the plate on the counter and knocking the toast into the sink. She turned the faucet on, running the plate under the stream of water, then opened the dishwasher, that Freddy hadn't noticed before, and stuck the plate in. She leaned over, flicking a switch, and a horrible grinding noise exploded from the sink. She let it run awhile, before flicking the garbage disposal off again, and looking back to Freddy. He put the glass down.
"You think he'd mind if I borrowed some of his clothes?" Freddy asked, and Summer gave him a quizzical look, "You're brother?"
"No," she shook her head, "I don't go in his room. You don't want to borrow anything of his anyways."
"Well, I'd choose something of his over something of yours," Freddy joked, but seeing she wasn't budging, "Come on, Summer, I don't want to hang around in my uniform all day!" She rolled her eyes.
"I'll be right back," she muttered, racing back towards the hallway. Freddy took another drink of the water. It tasted different, then his water at home. He was surprised at how much quicker it took her to return, and she threw some clothing at him, "This is the bathroom," Summer led him through the hall, though Freddy had already seen it, and pushed open the door, "You can change in here." He nodded.
The jeans and t-shirt were a little oversized. Freddy didn't mind the shirt so much, a brown rag that said something about a carwash on the front. The jeans, however, he found himself tugging back up every now and then, as it wouldn't stay put on his slender form. He bundled up his uniform, grabbing his drumsticks from their back pocket and shoving them in the jeans, fixed his hair slightly in the mirror, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Summer was waiting patiently outside, leaning against the wall. She smiled at him, giggling lightly, and he looked questioningly at her. She laughed, reaching forward and pulling the pants up for him.
"Do you need a belt?" she teased, still laughing. He smirked.
"Where do you want to go?" Freddy asked, and Summer shrugged, her mirth dying, "Is there anywhere around here worth going to?" She looked thoughtful, before smiling.
"There is one place…that I've always wanted to go…"
0-0-
Freddy looked up at the small amusement park. It exuded all the cheesiness of a carnival, with a carousel to the side, a rollercoaster wrapping around the entire place, little shops, a Zipper ride, a Tilt-o-Whirl, arcade games, and vending stands selling popcorn and cotton candy. There was even a portly man dressed as a clown selling colorful balloons. The line for entry was short, a small booth listing the prices. Two dollars for individual tickets, twenty dollars for a small roll of fifteen tickets, and twenty-five dollars for an all-day wristband. He glanced at Summer, who was bouncing slightly in anticipation, she grinned at him.
"I've never been here," she admitted. It had only been a short walk from her house, but he nodded. He believed it, she continued, "My mom always said it was a waste of money for cheap thrills and that goofing off like this never got anyone anywhere."
"Oh," he felt the need to say something, before looking back out at the parse crowd. There appeared to be a few adults with small children, some college students, and even a few high school kids, which was good, because they would fit in better. They stepped up to the booth, and the bald man behind the counter nodded, "Two wristbands," Freddy said, pulling open his wallet. Summer pulled her own wallet out, "I got this," he told her.
"It's alright," she protested, "I have my own money."
"Well, I have my father's money," Freddy grinned, "I got this." He placed a fifty dollar bill on the counter, and the man checked it briefly in the sunlight, before clipping the thin plastic wristbands to the two teens' wrists and ushering them forward.
"What do you want to ride first?" Summer questioned, "The rollercoaster is that way, there's a few water rides over there, but it's kind of cold for those, don't you think? And…"
"I thought you'd never been here before," Freddy joked, and Summer blushed, swiping a loose strand of hair back up with her ponytail.
"Yeah…I haven't…I had a map, when I was little," she stuttered, slightly flustered.
"What time is it?" Freddy asked, deciding not to show how incredibly amused he was at that tidbit of information. Summer glanced at her watch before showing it to him, "Ten? Rollercoaster." Summer scrunched her nose at him, as he stalked off in the direction she'd pointed. She jogged to follow, falling into a slow pace behind him.
"Does time have a relation to what ride you want to get on?" she questioned. He shrugged, shook his head.
"No. I was just wondering what time it was," he answered.
"Freddy," she whispered, gently touching his arm. He paused. "Um…can we…just a moment…talk?" He turned, looking at her in confusion.
"About?"
"Not talking."
"I'm not following," Freddy stated. She shrugged, tugging her shirt down.
"If we're going to hang out today, you have to promise that we won't talk about the band and Kyle and any of that," she clarified. He looked thoughtful, chewing his lower lip, before nodding.
"Sure, I can do that. I don't want to talk about bastard anyways. Can we go now?"
"Sure," she smiled brightly, strutting forward to lead the way, and choosing to ignore the 'bastard' comment.
The line for the rollercoaster wasn't that long, so they rode it a few times in varying seats. Front, back, third to last, second to front, exact middle; racing each other from the exit to the entrance, loser had to sit in a chosen seat from the winner. Then they went on the Zipper, which Summer didn't enjoy the chaotic-ness of. She waited while Freddy rode it a few more times, before they went on the Tilt-O-Whirl, another ride that Summer didn't appreciate. While waiting in lines, they found things to talk about. Exchanging questions, trying to embarrass or stump the other.
"Alright, tell me the deal with your brother," Freddy finally said, as he tugged the oversized jeans up for the umpteenth time that day. Summer frowned, leaning on the little fence encircling the walk-ramp up to the rollercoaster. The line had gotten a slight longer then earlier that day.
"What deal? There's nothing to talk about," she muttered, "He's a jerk, I hate him."
"But then, there is a deal. Why do you hate him?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Summer looked to the cheeky blonde with precarious observation. He looked completely serious, leaning against the thin silver fence, his elbows propped up for support. Why did he want to know about her brother? Before that day she hadn't told anyone in the band she had a brother.
"We're in the same grade," she sighed, "He missed the cut-off date, as he was born in late November and we're only ten months apart. It's not exactly easy being in the same class as you're brother, at least, not for me. And you know how it is with siblings…" Freddy furrowed his brow and shrugged, indicating that, no, he didn't, "Sibling rivalry?"
"Only child," Freddy said, pointing to himself.
"Oh, lucky," she mumbled, "In my house, it's bad. And let's just leave it at that." Freddy opened his mouth to protest, ask for elaboration, but Summer was relieved of that duty when the next tram pulled up and the worker ushered them in. Then they found themselves in line at the Zipper again.
"You have to try it, one more time," Freddy pleaded, "Come on, Summer, quit being a baby!"
"The only reason you want me to get back on that ride is so you can see me squirm! Admit it, Freddy Jones," Summer retorted, "I am not getting back on that thing, no way, no how!"
Moments later, Summer stumbled from the cage, an exuberant Freddy following after. He grinned broadly at her, before putting an arm out to support her. She glanced weakly at him, still managing a menacing look.
"You have to admit, that was fun," he cried.
"I loathe you," she stated, and he snickered. She leaned in against him, taking deep breaths, and trying to get her head to stop spinning. He let his arm fall over her shoulders casually, as they walked aimlessly from the ride.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Not really."
"I am. Let's get food."
"I say black, you say white," Summer muttered.
"So I'm not allowed to be hungry if you're not?" Freddy replied, then scoffing, "I guess bastard never eats when you're not eating." Summer stopped dead in her tracks, pulling away, and the drummer paused, taking a deep breath, but not turning to face the, undoubtedly, fuming young woman.
"Why do you call him that? What has he ever done to you?" she demanded.
"I don't like him. That's about it," Freddy answered, finally turning, head lowered, looking up at her, "He gives me shit all the time, alright? Him and his basketball buddies. I call a duck a duck, I call a bastard a bastard. And he is a bastard." Summer crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow, and pursing her lips.
"Oh and you're not? Because I sure as hell think making out with his girlfriend qualifies you as one."
"Are you talking about Greta James? Because I don't even know if that really happened. Or are you talking about you and me? Because you weren't really his girlfriend at the time," Freddy shot back. Summer's eyes went wide, heat flushing her face, and her body went rigid. In an instant, it seemed, everything flashed into her memory. His hands were still on her skin, his lips were still against her own, her body still pressed against his. It hit her too hard. The heat, the head rush. She mistook it for anger.
"That…" Summer stammered, "Wasn't even a real kiss."
"Damn straight it wasn't," Freddy spat, "I only kiss attractive girls. Not bitches who stab their friends in the back the moment some prick bastard gives them some attention." He pushed his way past, storming away. Summer turned after.
"Freddy, wait," she called, but his retreating back disappeared as the crowd enclosed in front of her. She stumbled backwards, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
How did they always manage to do that? How did they always manage to find something to fight about? There they were, completely enjoying the afternoon of ditching with one another, and then suddenly they were at each other's throats.
Summer wiped at her cheeks, rubbing them furiously. She turned, and almost ran into a girl standing behind her. She stepped back.
"Well, if it isn't little Punky Brewster," the girl greeted, as another joined her. Summer bit back a gasp, feeling her heart hitch halfway to her throat. She stared, disbelieving of her luck, at the girl standing before her. A fairly attractive brunette, tall, lithe, buxom. Her smile was thin, looking very much like she held something between her teeth, most likely a nasty comment. The girl beside her was Summer's height, red curls bunched up in a small ponytail, green eyes, and an hourglass figure. She stared at Summer with disinterest, distaste, and something more hidden behind those lit eyes.
"Allison," Summer mumbled, in regards to the brunette, "Rachel," she flickered her eyes over the redhead, sorrowfully, looking for a kind word or even a sympathetic smile. She didn't need this right now, her psyche already a wreck from her spat with Freddy.
"It's been awhile, Punky," Allison said, with an insidious smirk. A boy came up behind her, wavy brown locks, careful doe eyes, and a wiry but muscular build. He slipped his arm around Allison's waist, and for a moment, Summer's eyes betrayed her emotions, shadowing over with hurt, heartbreak, and deep distress. Her head was spinning, and Allison seemed to enjoy this, letting her smile widen, "You remember Jeffrey. Jeff, you remember Punky."
"Summer…" Summer corrected in a weak whisper, her voice giving way to an uncontrollable quiver, "Shouldn't you all be in school?"
"Staff development day," Allison answered coolly, placing a kiss to Jeff's cheek, though her eyes never left Summer's. She wouldn't want to miss a moment of jealous envy pouring from those expressive eyes.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" Rachel questioned haughtily, looking very much like she needed to prove herself to someone, obviously Allison.
"I…I…well…I…" Summer stammered. She was never a very great liar, and suddenly under the pressure of these three teens, her mouth couldn't seem to move. A hand slipped over her shoulders suddenly, warm and familiar, and comforting all at once. Relief washed over her, and she felt like she could burst into tears of joy at that moment.
"It's a holiday," a slick voice answered. The startled teens looked at the newcomer with varying regard. Jeff looked the boy up and down, unimpressed and obviously annoyed with his arrival. But Allison and Rachel were a different story. Their eyes trailed over him and it was evident by their expressions the same thought passed through their minds, that went through that of every girl that came across Freddy Jones. He was hot.
"Holiday?" Allison mumbled, eyes blankly staring at Freddy. He met her gaze, and a blush crept over her cheeks.
"Yeah, Horace Green day. Our school was founded today," he answered smoothly. Summer's brow furrowed together, and she began to open her mouth to clearly point out to Freddy that their school was most certainly not founded that day, and that they'd never been given the school's foundation day off as a holiday, anyways, when his hand clamped over her mouth. It was rough, calloused, smelled good. "Remember, Summer," he whispered roughly, "You were telling your mother all about it?" Summer's heart thudded realization of the stupid act she'd almost committed. She nodded, and he released her mouth.
"That's right," she piped, shakily, "Horace Green day…on this day, 1972, our academy was opened by Horace Fenton Green. His goal was to provide students with the opportunity to expand their minds in a professional and disciplinary environment, under the guidance of…"
"Jeez, Punky, we don't need a history lesson," Jeff interrupted, tightening his grasp on Allison's waist, and taking note of the way she glanced heatedly to Freddy every so often, then jealously to the way the blonde's arm fell around Summer.
"Come on, babe," Freddy hissed urgently in Summer's ear, his breath a hot blast against her chilled skin, "You said you were hungry."
"No, you said…" Summer started, but fell short, seeing the anger burning in his usually soft brown eyes. She nodded stiffly, letting him lead her away, but determined to have the final word, "Don't call me babe."
Freddy left Summer sitting on a bench, returning shortly with a soda and a bag of pink cotton candy. He handed her the drink, and sat down, working on opening the bag. She poked a straw through the cup lid, and drank. They were silent a long moment, sorting out their thoughts. Summer was itching, her veins pounding against her flesh, her heart slow, stop and go beats. She wanted to say something. She thought of apologizing, but her stubbornness reared its ugly head. What do you have to be sorry for, she demanded silently of herself, he was the one being a complete and total asshole.
Freddy's own head was spinning with anger and frustration. His chest felt like a particularly powerful session on his drum set, and it was taking all the energy he had to simply sit still and hold his tongue. He didn't want to yell at Summer, that's not why they were at that amusement park. Then why were they, he wondered. Why had he taken her there? Or more, why had he asked her to ditch with him? She wasn't his favorite person at the moment, what with considering leaving the band behind to manage Kyle's, that, in his eyes, could never be as good as School of Rock, record deal or no. Kyle's band didn't have Zack on lead guitar, they didn't have Lawrence on keyboard, Katie on bass, they didn't have Tomika's pipes, they didn't have Freddy on drums, they didn't have the support of roadies, a special effects crew, groupies, and a stylist, and, most importantly, they didn't have Dewey. But they would have Summer, if School of Rock couldn't convince her to not say 'yes'.
Freddy sniffed, a thought pounding in his mind. Maybe that's what this was. Maybe he thought, somewhere, deep in his subconscious even, that if he showed Summer a good time that day, if they hung out, and talked, and…well, maybe it was a last resort to keep Summer from leaving the band. A last resort to keep Summer from leaving him. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of that theory.
"We're not very good, at keeping our promises," Summer commented, and Freddy nodded, chuckling somewhat, she did the same, nervous, short laughter. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't mean to…well…inadvertently call you a bastard."
"Well, I didn't mean to call you ugly."
"Smooth, Freddy," Summer muttered, her eyes narrowed at him, sarcastically inflecting, "Is that what you called me, because I didn't pick up on that one," then softly, "What about Kyle?"
"What about him? I'm not apologizing for calling him a bastard, because he is one."
"He is not," Summer pouted, short of stamping her foot and throwing a temper tantrum, the whine in her voice was reminisce of a three year old.
"Well then, let's just agree to disagree on that one," Freddy muttered peevishly. A quiet fell over them again. "What's with the dork squad?" He motioned towards the two girls and boy, hovering around the arcade in the distance. He opened the cotton candy, grabbing out a hand full and popping it in his mouth. Summer shifted beside him, leaning against the back of the bench, and seeming to be fighting an inner battle. She sighed, the air escaping from between her lips like a gasp. She lowered her head, flipping the end of her ponytail around to twiddle the hairs between her fingers.
"Remember that woman back at the house? Mrs. Fuller?" she said, and Freddy looked down at his hands, licking the sugar off his fingers, and offering the candy up to Summer. She took a piece, but didn't eat it.
"The bitch in the blue house?"
"Yeah. That girl over there is her daughter, Allison," Summer said, nodding to the teens, "She loves to make my life miserable. Ever since I won the science fair in first grade. Her older sisters always won everything, it was tradition for the Fuller family to take first prize, but I beat her. That year and every year after. She's hated me ever since."
"So, you're overachieving has been both a gift and a curse," Freddy teased, and Summer rolled her eyes, "Okay, then what's the deal with carrot top and bitch-in-training's shoulder bag?"
"Rachel and Jeff," Summer murmured, "Look, you may not believe this, but…before I came to Horace Green, I didn't have a lot of friends."
"You're kidding. That's uncanny," Freddy drawled sarcastically, then seeing the hurt cross her face, "Sorry, couldn't help it…I'll be serious. Keep going…"
"I really didn't have any friends," Summer went on, "Well…one. Rachel, she was my best friend. She was impoverish, wearing hand-me-down clothes from the Salvation Army, and her mother made her toys to bring to school, and little brown bag lunches. She had to fold the bag up and reuse it everyday. I remember, one day, Allison was making fun of her because of it, and took her bag, and ripped it into pieces. Nobody said anything, they just watched. So I told Allison to…to shut up, that she was a brat. The next day, Rachel had to bring a plastic bag with her lunch in it. But I still ate lunch with her, even though no one else would, and…I was the only one that ever stood up for Rachel, and I got in a lot of trouble for it, and it only made the other kids bully me more…but she was my friend.
"I could talk to her, and tell her all my secrets and everything. She seemed to understand me, and to like that I was smart and wanted to get good grades. We were always together, inseparable. We had sleepovers, just the two of us. We used to joke that…that, well, the popular kids weren't good enough for us. That they were just jealous, because they'd never have real friends, like us."
"What happened?"
"Her dad got a job, and suddenly she was wearing brand name clothes, and had all these new toys, and everyone wanted to hang out and play with her," Summer's voice trembled slightly, she leaned forward, balancing her forehead in the palm of her hand, "It was as though we were never friends. She treated me like everyone else did, like I was a freak. Making fun of me, bullying me, torturing me…" Her voice caught, "Jeff was a boy I had a little childish crush on. She stole my journal, to secure herself a place in the popular crowd, and I had written in there about how I liked Jeff and I thought he was really a sweet person. Allison started to hang around Jeff, and he…announced to the entire class that…that I…" she broke off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, "It sounds ridiculous now, but you remember what it was like being a kid! He told everyone that I had cooties, and he…that he would rather eat frog legs then ever play with me…
"God, I was such a stupid kid! I was so happy when I came to Horace Green. At Horace Green, nobody cared that I was smart, nobody made fun of me for it. Because most everybody there was smart. They all had private tutors their entire lives, and were working hard at school because their parents instilled in them a good work ethic. That schoolwork was important, and that they had to get good grades, get into a good college, get a good job, and…"
She stood suddenly, wiping the tears from her eyes, her back to Freddy, who stared at her in silence. He didn't know what to say. He'd always thought of Summer as confident, unwavering. He realized guiltily, he'd once considered her a freak, and that he used to make fun of her behind her back. But she was perfect before, as far as he knew, without a blemish or stain in her past. She'd always been pretty, pert, popular, overly organized, stuck-up, brownnosing, Summer Hathaway. Now she was crying, now she was hurting, now she was revealing to him a much darker, much sinister childhood than he'd ever pictured her having. He wanted to hold her, for a moment. To wipe away her tears, tell her that she was right, that those kids weren't good enough for her. He wanted to do anything, anything, to erase all that pain he felt coming from her. To erase that past. Then his want to comfort her turned into frustration, because he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to pull her into his arms and simply hold her. So he became angry. He wanted to hurt those who'd hurt her. But he couldn't do that either. So he sat there, uncertain, unmoving, eating cotton candy. Sickeningly, he realized he wouldn't be able to eat the carnival treat after that moment ever again.
"You'll hate me, won't you," she whispered softly, and he listened to his heart pound several times before responding.
"What?"
Summer spun around, facing him, tears steadily streaming down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling, eyes shining. Her cheeks were splotched red, her face pale, her entire body shaking. She seemed so fragile in that moment, as though a thin tree standing against an onslaught of wind. A slim sheet of crystal glass that could fall and shatter at any moment. And in that vulnerability, she seemed so strong.
"You'll really hate me if I leave, won't you?" she stated again, accusingly, determinedly, "If I leave the band, you'll hate me! You'll never even speak to me again, will you? You're just like them." It hit him like a bullet, his mouth parting slightly, though no sound came out.
"What?" It was all he could manage.
"Think about it, really think about it," Summer raged, "If it hadn't been for the band…if Dewey hadn't come along…would you even be talking to me today? Would you even care I existed? Would you ever have, in a million years, asked me to skip school with you? No! You would treat me like they did…because you're just like them!" Her voice was a hallow croak now, and she was shaking with the soft sobs trying to escape from her throat, "And if I leave, you'll be just like them! You'll hate me, you'll never talk to me again…except maybe to shove some insult down my throat and treat me like you would have if it weren't for School of Rock in the first place!"
Freddy was on his feet before he knew it. But beyond that simple action, he was at a loss.
"I'm only worth talking to because of the band…I'm like Rachel, and suddenly I'll be back in my hand-me-down clothes, and you'll be ripping up my goddamned brown paper bag!"
"If you're so fucking worried about it then tell the bastard 'no'," Freddy shot, and Summer shook her head, eyes alight with fire.
"It's not about that, Freddy Jones! If you were really my friend, you'd be behind me no matter what! If you really cared about me, it wouldn't matter what I said, you'd support me! You'd want me to be happy, and you'd understand why this is hurting me so much! Why this is all so painful for me! But that's the thing, isn't it? You were never my friend! You never cared about me! I'm only bearable because I'm the little band manager, because I play a part in School of Rock! But when that's over, I'm a nobody to you."
"Stop it, Summer! Just shut up!"
"No! You're just like them!" He moved forward to grab hold of her, to calm her down, nervously noting how people were starting to stare. She fought against him, slapping his cheek, pounding against his chest. In only riled up the desperation in him, fueled his need to hold her, and he roughly pulled her into his arms. She struggled against him for a few moments, before curling her fingers in her brother's oversized shirt, burying her face in his chest, and simply crying.
People began walking by again, every now and then sending the two teens curious or concerned looks. Freddy clasped his hands around Summer, letting her cry against him, not knowing what to say. Some of her rant was true, he was painfully aware of that. He wouldn't be standing there with her, wouldn't of ever talked to her, asked her to skip school with him, wouldn't of ever held her in his arms, if it weren't for the fact they were both members of School of Rock. And it made him wonder, as hurtful as the thoughts were, if the rest of what she'd said was true. Did he only put up with her, only hang out with her, because she was in the band? And would it all change, would he really hate her, if she left? He saw the three teens; Allison, Rachel, and Jeff, standing and staring at them, whispering to one another. He balanced his chin atop Summer's head. He could smell her hair. It smelled of shampoo. Sweet. He tightened his hold on her, moving a hand to cradle her neck, to feel her skin. Soft, tender, with light baby fuzz like the flesh of a peach.
No. He wasn't like them.
"I won't hate you," he told Summer with complete sincerity. She was silent now, standing there, balanced against his chest. She would sniffle, every now and then, but the erratic sobs had stopped.
"Yes, you will," she whispered stubbornly.
"No. I won't. If you leave the band, I don't know if I'll still talk to you. And I don't know if we'll still hang out and be friends. But I do know, that I won't hate you, and I won't treat you like that," he assured her. She pulled away, looking very much a wreck. Her cheeks were damp, her eyes red rimmed, her hair a mess, her nose wet.
"It's not going to fall apart," she murmured, "If I leave. You'll still have the band." Freddy frowned, looking down to the dirty black ground, "Katie tells me to see it from your point of view, but I…I just wish you would try to see it from mine."
"I can't. Maybe it's because I hate the guy, but I can't."
"Katie said the band is the best thing that's ever happened to you," Summer continued, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear, "But for me…it was always the friendships we made."
"So, so long as you have the friendships, it's okay to move on to bigger and better things?" Freddy muttered bitterly.
"Bigger, not better," Summer retorted, "Never better." He cupped the side of her face with his hand, wiping the tears away carefully with his thumb. She smiled, and she'd never looked more beautiful. He stepped forward on impulse, and she lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. And all at once, he needed something from her, he needed to lean closer, to breath her in, to bring her near him, to touch her, to be mere inches from her face, to be closer than mere inches, to see if those lips still tasted the same…
Summer jumped back, her pack vibrating furiously, and Freddy turned away, startled and shaken. What was wrong with him? What was that about? She lifted her cell phone from her pack, wiping away the saturation from her eyes, and staring blearily at the screen.
"Don't answer it," Freddy started, but she popped it open and lifted it to her ear.
"Katie?"
"Summer! Summer, oh my god, where are you guys?"
Freddy relaxed, and Summer smiled, relief washing over her. The familiar voice of her friend more than enough to alleviate the otherwise tense atmosphere. Then she realized something.
"What do you mean, 'where are you guys'?" she asked.
"You and Freddy," Katie persisted, then in a tone that Summer knew was accompanied by an eye-roll, "We're not stupid. Freddy wasn't at school, you weren't at school, a lab rat could figure it out…"
"Oh."
"What does she want?" Freddy questioned impatiently.
"Aren't you at school, right now?" Summer asked, "Where are you calling from?"
"The girls' bathroom. School lets out in an hour," Katie explained, "Where are you guys?"
"Amusement park."
"You serious? Oh, how could you two just ditch us like this! I had to sit through the worst math test in the history of math tests…the quadratic equation is not my friend, let me tell you that…and you guys are at an amusement park!"
"Katie," a voice hissed testily beside the bassist.
"Who's with you?" Summer asked.
"What's going on?" Freddy demanded.
"Marta's here, and ow…shit, Marta…" There was shuffling and suddenly heavy breathing filled Summer's ear.
"I'm so sorry," Marta cried.
"What?" Summer pressed, "What are you sorry for? What are you guys calling about?"
"Kyle. I'm so sorry…I never meant to…I just…oh, I'm so sorry!"
"Kyle…?" Summer murmured, eyes widening. You were supposed to have lunch with Kyle, she reminded herself, you completely forgot about him, you completely ditched him.
"What about the bastard?" Freddy asked beside her, feeling left out.
"He knows you're out with Freddy, Summer," Marta continued, her voice on the edge of tears, "And he's mad…he's really mad…and he left…he's looking for you guys, right now…I'm so sorry…" Summer lowered the phone, staring blankly at Freddy. His brow drew together, and he looked questioningly to her.
"What? What's going on?"
END A/N: You know what really funny? This isn't even the longest chapter I have written up. I think that would be...chapter 7, maybe. It's a huge chapter, but once again, a lot happens in it. AH, yes, my three bitch OC's. I have decided whether they make another appearance...
Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors. REVIEW!
THanks for reading.