Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the plot, or details, or characters of The Faculty. The movie cast and crew own everything. I do take dibs on Nat, who is seen in my fanfiction Guaranteed to Jack You Up, but near everything else isn't mine and I don't make a profit from this, I'm just doing what I love to do, whether or not I'm really very good at it. I think I MIGHT include Dan, since you all love him so much. He's Crystal's you all know.
Rating: PG-13 Just to be safe. There might be some fowl language and references that might not be suitable for children and those of immature mind.
A/N: This is sort of a lengthy one-shot. Just to give Nat and Casey more of a friendly relationship than in my main fanfiction. Oh, and I doubt they'll be anymore Fight Club rip-offs. (If you wish to know, read Guaranteed to Jack You Up) Oh, and I changed Nat's status, just slightly.
What am I still doing here? In this town? In this school? In Ohio? In this fucking world for that matter? There's no reason at all for me to be here. No reason whatsoever. But still, here I am; haven't learned my goddamned lesson, yet. Well that's what they say. That's what they all say. They being the mixture of jocks and upper-classmen that find it either amusing, or a way to pass time, to slam the flagpole between my legs. Why did I even get off the buss this morning? I knew I'd find myself in this predicament. What I didn't know, was that there was something special about today.
No—not the pole! I begged, maybe just a spark of sympathy would change things. There was that unmistakable pain that prove my new-found theory wrong. Please! I tried again, but they went for a second time. That second time was all it took to leave me writhing on the ground in pain and agony, watching people pass without a second glance. I cringed when I heard an unfamiliar voice above my head.
Get up, it said, but it sounded calmer, less cruel, Don't take that shit from them! Do something about it! This was obviously a new student. I shook my head, a blatant refusal. Fine, she said—I had decided the voice was a girl's—and she straightened up, If you won't, I will.
I looked up, from my sanctuary on the ground, to see the back of a girl walking after the group of guys that did that to me. What in god's name was she planning to do? She was smaller than them, obviously in bad odds in strength. But she had a confident stride. That's got to count for something.
Her voice rang out clear as she called them back. Hey! she practically yelled, Don't you think that's wrong to pick on some one obviously weaker than you? Why don't you try fighting with some one who is just as strong as you?…Oh, I get it, there was a strange slyness in her voice, You ain't got the balls for it. That caused them all the turn around and stare at her. Hard hit, insulting a guy's manhood like that. By the looks on your faces, you disagree? Well, then, fight me. Here and now. I'll see if you got balls or not.
What was this girl, brave, crazy, or just plain stupid? I wasn't about to jump to conclusions, being that it was my ass she was defending. I still hadn't seen her face, her back was to me the entire time, but I could tell by her voice that she was smirking—or something close to it. She had some confidence, whether far-fetched or not, it was confidence.
What the hell are you trying to pull little girl? one guy snarled.
Oh, you think your bigger than me? she said as if she wasn't an entire head shorter than each of them, Well, you're pretty damn small to be getting your kicks by bullying some kid. She spread her legs shoulder width apart and turned as if ready to fight. One thing was strange about her though; she stuck her hands in her pockets. I'll take on all of you without taking my hands out of my pockets.
Yep, definitely crazy, but not necessarily incapable. This was well proven by what I saw next. Though I can't be sure whether I saw this or something out of an old martial arts movie. All—I think there were five—five guys, prettily pissed off, charged at her from different angles. This wasn't a tactic used except by the dumbest and cockiest fighters in movies. It didn't work in the movies, it didn't work now. She jumped, then—when they were close enough—jumped off one guy's head and practically stood there on top when they all crashed into each other.
When they came to their senses—whatever sense they had—and started reeming up for another attack, she landed softly on the ground and sent a powerful kick straight up into the biggest guy's chin. Everything next seemed to happen in slow motion. The big guy, with his chin pointed up, fell backward, her leg still vertical in the space his face used to occupy. Luckily she was wearing jeans and not a skirt, or the guys in the crowd would be having a ball. When the big guy finally landed, he was unconscious, and before time sped up again I realized that she had just done what I never, in my life, had the courage or the strength to do myself. She stood up for me. The other four guys dragged the big guy away with loud curses and insults aimed at the girl, but she didn't seem to hear them. She came up to me, but all I saw at first was her shoes. They were black and white checkered tennis shoes.
You,she said forcefully, Get up, now! I stood up for you, now get up and stand on your own two feet. She almost seemed angry, but still quite sober at the same time. I didn't move or make a reply. I didn't want to, just in case she was playing some long trick on me to embarrass me. I was never very quick to trust anyone. Come on! she was almost yelling again. Why do you think they pick on you? Don't you want people to look up to you? Then stand up on your feet and feel tall, be tall. You come to school everyday and deal with that without a word to protect yourself, or a move to block a blow? No one can look up to some one who's on the ground all the time and stays there. I stirred and got on my hands and knees—I was still in quite a bit of pain from being elbowed in the face beforehand. I looked up and saw her face for the first time and for once in my sad, pathetic life of ugliness and hate…I saw beauty. What are you waiting for? she continued, her face frowning, but her eyes spoke as if she had some sort of hope…in me. I'm not going to offer you a hand, or help you. I've done too much already. Look, rise, get up and speak for yourself. Walk for yourself. Be who you want to be without having to live in fear because of fucking bastards like that. I can see very well you don't have the muscle to fight back physically, but you could at least do something.
As all of this was entering my brain at one time, I got to wondering why she was doing this. She told me to get up, but I'm obviously not able to do that right now. She sounded so mean, but yet, not one bit cruel. I guess the correct word is strict. Then I got what she was trying to do. She didn't want me to rely on any help to pull myself together. She had faith that I—the piss wad in the locker room, the chicken-shit on the field—actually had strength in me. No one, not even my parents ever had that kind of faith in me, and they've known me my entire life. I see this girl I haven't even met properly, who didn't even know I existed until about ten minutes ago, was giving me one chance to prove myself, to her and to me. I felt a lot of strength—no, that's not the right term—a lot of power rush through me right then. I felt the power to get up and carry on, to go on and do what I want to make my life better. I had this power all along, but it was dwindling with loss of hope. I put my feet on the ground and straightened my legs and back and stood. And, man, what it felt like. But then I got dizzy and fell forward again. Only, this time she caught me.
That's all I wanted you to do, she said, suddenly very gentle and sweet, I wanted you to stand. Even if just for one minute, I wanted you to feel what it's like to be strong and not pathetic and helpless. Did you feel it?
She held me up with my head on her shoulder. She smelled sweet, kind of like flowers with a strange, distinct fragrance. I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke to her. Yeah, I said, I felt like I was getting up to talk to a friend of mine…like an equal. I haven't felt that since kindergarten. You know, when everyone's attention spans are too short to comprehend weakness and strength. Back when I was considered to be just like everyone else.
You are just like everyone else. she assured me. I never heard anyone speak so kindly to me in all of my life. And in the circumstances I didn't think I'd ever hear it again in my entire lifetime. But I changed that way of thinking as I got to know her better because from that day on…we became very good friends.
I learned her name while she sat by me in Nurse Harper's office. Her name was Nathaneal—which, if I'm not mistaken is a male name--Whelpsand when I asked her why, she just laughed a little and smiled. I guess I must've been blushing a little because my face heated when she laughed at me. That's strange, being that I've been laughed at so many times before and never had a problem with blushing. What makes her so different, I wonder?
You really want to know? she asked, still laughing, but merely a giggle, Well, it goes like this: My mother loved my father very much, but he lost his mind and ran away when heard that she was pregnant with his child, before they were married. That was me, you see. But, of course, my mother--mourning over the abandonment of her husband--wanted a boy, so she could name him after his father. As you can see, plans didn't go so well for my mother. So she just named me after him out of spite. She really hates me.
That information made my stomach feel sick. How could anyone hate their own child. I mean, sure, my folks have their moments of being complete numbskulls and morons, but they still love me, and they do try to understand what I go through at school. But for a mother to hate her own daughter…that's Hell. She hates you? I inquired, trying to understand this better. She thoroughly hates you? As in despises you? I followed her nods, all pointing to affirmative. Why don't you call Child Services, or something to that extent?
This also earned a laugh. It's not like she neglects me, or abuses me, she explained, She buys food and clothes for me. She could very well just kick me out of her house. Hell, I'm still her daughter, but it's all just responsibility to her. She told me that herself when I was five, just started school. I was afraid to take the bus, so she had to drive me. She was none too happy about that, so she yelled at me…telling me how much I ruined her life, and I knew right then why I had envied the children on my street. Some how I knew that they all had loving parents, and I not only had one parent, she didn't love me. That crushed me, you know, so over the years, I've been less dependent on her, or anyone for that matter. And, you know, I've never felt better.
I held the tissue to my nose, just in case the bleeding hadn't really stopped. Then I thought of a question that I wanted the answer to. Why…why did you stand up for me? I mean, even when everyone else didn't notice me, why did you do it? She laughed again. Was I really that funny that day?
She stood and offered me a hand. I think we better get to class. I'll meet you after school by the flagpole. Don't be late or I'll come looking for you.
My last class was my worst class, Physical Education. I really hated that class,for some reason. Maybe it's because of the pointless running around the coach makes us do. Why should some one run, unless they have good reason to? It's all pointless to me so I just ignore half the stuff that's being taught. The only "exciting" part of the class is in the locker room when I have to stay out of the way, or I might get my head cracked open on a locker. It's never an accident. I guess I wasn't paying a lot of attention today. Gabe, a football player, ran into me while I was shutting my locker. I knew this guy was going to blame it on me.
Hey, you little shit! I'm trying to walk here. Get out of the way. Good, he's in a good mood today. Maybe I shouldn't ruin my luck…
Too bad I forgot to keep my mouth shut this time. I'm sorry, I'm trying to breathe here. Now, this probably wouldn't have been as bad if I hadn't been so sarcastic about it. But, no, I had to open my mouth and lock my damn brain.
Too fast for me to react, he grabbed a large amount of the hair on the back of my head and yanked my head back. It hurt like hell so my first reflex is to grab his hand behind me. Not a good reflex. He grabbed the hand I reached with--my other was holding my backpack by one strap--and pulled it behind my back. Shit what I was in for. He then slammed my forehead into the lock on my locker so hard it should've knocked me unconscious. Unfortunately, it didn't, and he didn't let me go just yet.
Chicken-shit, he said, When I tell you to get out of the way, you get out of the fuckin' way. You got that, Piss Wad?…Huh? He yanked on my hair again because I didn't answer fast enough.
Yes, I said, but he only pulled harder. Yes, sir, I added, through gritted teeth. I didn't dare use my other hand; he'd just get more pissed and probably call back one of his buddies--or maybe two.
Good, I heard that new girl beat up my friends because of you. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you've got a girlfriend. Well, Casey?
I hated it when that bastard said my name. He always spat it out like it was just a bad taste in his mouth. I much preferred the curses and insults he used as names for me. Good thing, you fucking know me better, huh Gabe?
I have no idea what was passing through his head in the next few moments, but he finally decided to let me go. Not without socking me in the face afterward, though, which immediately brought back my nosebleed. I found myself on the ground again, leaning against the lockers. I heard the bell ring overhead. I got up and walked out of the locker room, my head pounding. I found my way to the bathroom in the school building. I reached up to my head after I locked the stall door behind me and found a nice little stream of blood running down from my forehead. I got some toilet paper and I held my nose. I wasn't going to bother catching the bus. I could just stay there until everyone left, then be able to go home without any problems. There is of course, that little problem of my mom and dad thinking I joined some gang because I'd get home late and be all bloodied up. I just decided to wait there and take the consequences from my dad. It would probably be less physically painful anyway. Then I heard some one come in. I stifled my little cries of pain from wipingthebloodawayfrom the cut on my forehead and waited.