A/N – An upper-cut is a type of punch that you hit from below upwards; a term used in boxing – and I know this because my brother loves the Rocky movies.

From my not-so-extensive knowledge, I know that Morrissey usually plays depressing songs, so that's why Jackie is listening to it (you'll see…).

CH. 12: THE PLOT THICKENS

PAUL

I chose to go to the library at lunch, and that's why, just before the bell for lunch to be over rang I was stuffing the books I had checked out (Tolstoy and Issac Asimov). Just as I slammed my locker door shut, when who's annoying high-pitched voice should I hear behind me but, "Kelly, I swear. I don't have time for this."

"But Pawwl!" she whined (and I winced) "Why won't you just talk to me!" I suppressed a shudder as she laid one of her talon-hands on my shoulder.

"Kelly," Let me make this crystal clear for you: I already have a girlfriend," I said, peeling her hand off me, and looking down at her.

"B-but Paul…" her lower lip trembled.

Then I remembered how Suze was always telling me to be nicer to others. So, I heaved a sigh, and took her by the elbow, leading her away from my locker. "Jackie and I are happily together. Now, what I suggest that you find some other brainless little twit like yourself – I mean, find some other lovely person such as yourself, and go on whatever little 'dates' and picnics your little skull contrives to go on, but," I said dead-serious, "leave Jackie and me alone. Got it?"

Tell me to be nice – yeah right. This'll teach me to ever be nice to any one with the likes of Kelly Prescott, because maybe my 'oh so kind' words overwhelmed her heart, which was the precise size of a pin, that she looked up at me and said dreamily "I got it," which annoyed me further still.

"No, Kelly, I don't think you ge-" and that was when she grabbed my face and started kissing me like a freaking leech. What frustrating, idiotic girl!

I struggled to wrench my lips from hers. The bell had already rung for class, I guess, but I must have not heard it; the hallways were started to fill up with chatting teens.

"What the - " I finally managed to wrench my lips off to say that much. What did I get myself into? I almost managed to pull away completely when I heard a gasp from behind me.

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whirling around, I came faced to face with –

"Jackie," I explained hastily. "It's not what it looks like," saying the first thing that came to my mind.

I don't think I'll ever forget the heart-shattering expression on her face when I turned around that first instant. But by the next, her facial expression diffused into one of extreme anger.

"Oh really, Paul Slater?" she said haughtily, with a simmering anger behind the cynical smile that she was throwing my way. "Don't tell me Miss Kelly was having difficulty with the art of respiration and she needed your help?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Stay out of this, you –you tramp!" Kelly called out from behind me, where she hid, attempting to shield herself from Jackie's wrath. Still, I noticed she couldn't help but hold back a triumphant smile.

"Bitch," Jackie bit back coolly.

No one – I mean no one – had ever called Kelly a bitch to her face; behind her back, maybe. but to her face? Never.

If people hadn't stopped and watched the building tension before, they were now.

Everyone held their breath – even me.

Kelly's face was as scarlet as the stiletto heels on her feet. She gave a wild shriek, charging head-long at Jackie, "What did you call me!" she cried.

With a swift grab and expert turn and twist, Jackie had Kelly pinned against the locker-wall with a loud BANG. "Bitch," Jackie hissed in her ear, and released the whimpering Kelly from her death-grip.

As Kelly rubbed her wrist in pain, I slowly approached Jackie, like approaching an angry snake, I was unsure of what to do. "Uh, Jackie?"

She slowly turned around to face me, and then gave me a hard upper-cut to the stomach, before dashing off, and disappearing into the crowd. As I bent, doubled-over in pain, I had only one thought in my brain, (besides: I need an ambulance), and that was, how am I ever going to fix this?

JACKIE

I knew it – or, well, I should have known. Never fall for a pretty-boy. Nope – they'll just rip your heart out of your chest, and throw it on the ground – not that I was going through this; nope. Nah-uh. No way.

I told myself this as I popped in a Morrissey CD, and got myself a box of chocolates that we have in our house in case someone drops by. I also went to throw away the empty tissue box that I just finished, and got myself another.

Not that I was crying. It was just allergies. Yes, allergies.

But what am I allergic to?

Oh yes: Pretty Boys who tear your heart out.

I turned the volume up higher to drown out my crying. I sang along through my tears, "Everyday is like Sunday/Everyday is silent and grey."

I caught my reflection in the mirror; luckily Mom wasn't home yet to see me look like such a mess: tear-streaked cheeks and puffy-read eyes. My stupid eyeliner was running (on the one day I decided to wear again…).

I gave a small laugh, have I been crying every day this week? I hadn't cried since the day my father had left, and I was now turning into a softie bucket of sop. No, I roughly wiped my tears aside. No; what happened to me?

I stomped over to my closet, and started rifling through the pile of clothes on the bottom. I never was softie, and never will.

I found my fishnets. I found my high-heeled, laced-up combat boots.

I turned Morrissey off and put in the Ramones. "Hey, Ho, let's go!" Joey Ramone pumped as the music throbbed.

I re-applied my eye-liner – this time the way I used to. I zipped, strapped, and button on my toughest bad-girl outfit. Black pants, black top, black eyeliner…

Now I looked myself in the mirror, saw I looked like a scary bat out of hell – and smiled.

Let's kick some ghost-ass.

How could I have forgotten crying doesn't get you anywhere? How could I have forgotten to do rather than think?

I left a message on Suze's voice mail when she didn't pick up, "It's me, Jackie. I'm going to stop them from killing my dad. Meet me by the warehouse on La Mesa and Walnut if you wanna join in on the rumble. 'Kay, bye," I clicked off.

Then I dashed down the steep hill from my house, not caring how I was going to go back – just focusing on what I had to do.

And that was to save my dad.

Screw Paul, screw Kelly; I had seem to forgotten what mattered most in my life right now…

PAUL

"Kelly, I'm dead-serious." I had followed her home so I could knock some sense into her. And if I couldn't? Then maybe I could find some leverage to blackmail against her, because, frankly, "nice" didn't work with Kelly.

Kelly gave a toss of her hair, and picked up the phone. "So where do you wanna go tonight, Paul? I was thinking Wolfgang Puck's, but if we wanna go there, we better make reservations now."

"Kelly," I took the phone from her hands and turned it off. "We aren't going anywhere tonight. No," I interrupted her look of wanting to protest. "Not tonight, not ever."

"Come on, Paul," she frowned, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't be like that. Besides, why are you so interested in her? She's not pretty, rich," she ticked off on her fingers. "Or popular – like me."

"She is gorgeous," I stepped forward, "And she may not be rich or 'popular', but she's more of a woman than you'll ever be."

Kelly's eyes went wide. When she finally found her voice, Kelly said, "You must really like her, then."

"Kelly, I love her," then I just realized what I said - and how it was true. "Shit," I cussed under my breath. I really screwed up this time. Suddenly my cell phone started ringing.

With fleeting hope, I thought it just might be Jackie – but it was Suze. "Hello?" I answered.

"Paul!" she yelled breathlessly. "It's Jackie! She's going to take them all on by herself!"

"What!" I held the phone a little away from my ear. "What are you talking about? Jackie taking on who? What's going on?" I panicked.

"Jackie," she said exasperatedly. "She's in trouble. Meet me at…" she gave me the address. "And hurry!"

I clicked off rapidly, and dashed down out the room, "I'm sorry Kelly. I really gotta go."

"Is it Jackie?" she said softly, and a little timidly.

"Yeah, she's in trouble," I said, agitated.

"Then you – you better go to her," she said resolutely, as if giving me permission. I understood. It was her way of letting me go.

I nodded, "Thanks Kelly. And look," I paused, before heading on the front door. "You know it would never have worked out between us. You'll find someone real nice some day."

She smiled at me, and I smiled back. Then I turned and sprinted to my car, gunned the engine, and revved out of the driveway.