Author's Note: Just so no one gets confused – I have changed the name of Zita's tall, skinny, bespectacled, redheaded boyfriend from Eric to Aaron. Eric Reilly is an old OC of mine, and I forgot to consider the special meaning that the name "Eric" has for this fandom before I blithely tossed him in to prove that Zita (no less than thecharacters who managed to pair up with someone in canon) has a life of her own beyond her interactions with K&R.
Superintendent Stuart (only very rarely "Stu", and never "Stuey") Burlson sat in the chair in the main office of Middleton High that was usually occupied by Steve Barkin and feverishly sorted through a stack of papers as Barkin himself looked on, his face deliberately neutral.
"The first thing I want," Burlson said. "I want that…propaganda out of here. Make an announcement: anyone wearing a t-shirt or a hat or a pin or anything supporting Kim Possible after today gets suspended."
Barkin frowned doubtfully. "Are you sure about that, sir?" He asked. "None of those things are obscene or offensive by the standards of the dress code."
"They're disruptive! That's enough!" Burlson snapped back. "And I want you to keep an eye on the ringleaders. The very first chance you get, I want them out of here, too."
Barkin's frown deepened. "Mr. Burlson – "
"I mean it. If that Rockwaller girl so much as chews gum in class, she gets a week's vacation."
"Mr. Burlson. You have the right to revise the dress code whenever you want, of course, and to change the penalties associated with breaching it. But it has to apply to everybody. We can't just single out individual students."
"Spare me, Steve," Burlson said, not even looking up. "The feud between you and that Stoppable kid is legendary. Stories of the latest skirmish even make it down to my office."
Steve Barkin shifted uncomfortably. "That's different. That's – "
"I'm sure it is," Burlson interrupted, still not bothering to look at the other man. "I'm sure that in your deranged, drill-sergeant type of way, you think you're helping him. It's still singling a student out for special treatment. But forget about that for the moment. We have bigger fish to fry than him or Bonnie Rockwaller."
"What fish are those, sir?"
"I need the records for every Kim Possible-related incident since her first day of freshman year. Stoppable too, if he has any of his own. If either of them ever so much as stuck gum under their seat or dropped a beaker in Chemistry lab, I want to know about it."
"Is this part of our defense in the court case, sir?"
For the first time, Stuart Burlson grinned as he kept sorting through the papers in front of him. "Better," he said.
"Better?" Barkin asked.
"Better," Burlson nodded. "The best defense is a good offense, Steve – you should know that. So if the Possibles and Stoppables keep on with their lawsuit against us for expelling their fine, upstanding young sociopaths, then we'll just have to counter-sue for all the damage that their little escapades have caused over the years."
Steve Barkin's jaw dropped in horror, but he couldn't muster any other response.
His horror increased as he remembered some of the "incidents" in question. A great deal more than a beaker had been broken when he'd accidentally turned on that science project that she'd worked on with Justine Flanner.
Of course, the Possibles would have lawyers of their own, and if they had even basic brain functionality, they would make sure that all of the mitigating factors came out: that it had been primarily Justine's project; that he himself had been the one to ignore their warnings and safety precautions and release that dinosaur-thing from wherever they'd sent it; that they'd quickly trapped it again and then repaired the damage at no cost to the school with one of Justine's other devices. All of that would make a great deal of difference in court, but to a certain sector of the public it would make none. It would simply be a case of Kim Possible (and somebody else, but who cares?) bringing something dangerous to school. Her reputation would be that much more smeared.
Burlson was continuing on, oblivious to his subordinate's frantic thoughts: "And then I'll show them just how badly I respond to threats. They're not the only ones with friends in The System. Child Services has been waiting for a chance at the Possibles for years."
Barkin had thought that it couldn't get worse. "What?" He gasped.
"Think about it, Steve – they've allowed her to run wild on these 'missions' of hers since she was in seventh grade, doing work that should only be done by highly-trained professionals. And now, just a few months after she finally caused – and suffered – some real damage, she's run off to God-knows-where." He snorted. "Private school, indeed. Anyway, I know for a fact that there are some at Child Services who agree that those troublemaking little brothers of hers should be removed from that environment."
"No."
Burlson finally looked up, frowning. "What was that, Steve?"
"I won't take any part in this."
Burlson just raised an eyebrow. "Mutiny, Barkin? From you? I wouldn't have thought – "
"This isn't the Marines, Mr. Burlson. And it's a damn good thing, too. When someone makes decisions this bad in the field, people die."
"I. Beg. Your. Pardon?" Burlson rumbled, rising to his feet. Steve Barkin was a head taller than the superintendent and outweighed him by nearly a hundred pounds, but he had to force himself not to take a step back.
"Possible and Stoppable are good kids, and you're committing all of the resources of this district to keeping them out," Steve Barkin replied, letting his superior's rage break against him like a wave on the rocks. "It's not just doomed, it's wrong. And I'm not going help you tear down them or this district any further."
"I don't recall giving you the option," Burlson said, getting into Barkin's face. "This isn't a school board meeting. I'm not interested in anyone's opinion, least of all yours. This may not be the military, but I am your superior, I gave you an order, and you will carry it out."
"No," Steve Barkin said. "I won't."
"Then you're fired."
Steve Barkin just shrugged. "You're awfully casual about throwing people out of this school. Stu."
"You're no longer an employee of this school, Barkin," Superintendent Burlson said, returning to the desk, turning his attention back to the papers. "So you're trespassing. Get out of here before you get a police escort of your own."
"I'm going," Barkin said, heading for the door. "But I have to warn you: this isn't going to work out any better for you than the last one."
----
It was an unusual group that sat down to lunch in the Middleton High School cafeteria. Actually, "unusual" might have been too mild a word. "Impossible" might have been more like it. Oh, Monique, Felix, Zita, and Aaron sitting down together was no big at all. Even Josh and Tara joining them might not have raised many eyebrows. But Brick Flagg and especially – especially – Bonnie Rockwaller? So not happening. But it was.
At the moment, none of them were eating. A wise decision, perhaps, but it wasn't the hostility of the food that had killed their appetites. It was shock.
"Mr. Barkin…gone," Monique said. "This is JNTBB."
"What – "
"Just not to be believed," Felix translated before Aaron could finish his question.
"Oh. Thanks."
"Don't worry about it. Hang out with us long enough, you'll pick up the Monique speak."
"Well, I bet at least Ron's happy about this, wherever he is," Josh said. "Or he will be when he finds out."
"No," Tara disagreed. "I don't think he will."
"And believe me, man," Felix added. "He knew about five seconds after it happened. Just trust me on this."
"Thanks for trying for the silver lining, though, sweetie," Tara added, patting her boyfriend's back.
He smiled back at her ruefully, but said nothing else. The rest of them also fell silent, contemplating the fact that another of the foundations of Middleton High was gone.
"Man," Zita breathed after the moment had passed. "Barkin gone. I didn't think it was possible."
"It's not," Aaron said. Everybody looked at him in surprise.
"But dude, it happened," Brick protested.
Aaron shook his head. "My parents are teachers," he said. "So I can tell you for a fact that pretty much no one in the district likes Burlson. Even if someone did, you can't just fire people off the job like this was the dinner shift at Bueno Nacho. Barkin has a contract. The teacher's union is gonna come down on Burlson like a ton of bricks."
Everyone around the table fell silent for another long moment, stunned. None of them had considered that. Had Burlson?
"Wow," Zita said at last, once again breaking the silence. "I knew it would get rough, but I didn't know how rough."
"Testify, girlfriend," Monique agreed. "People are mad enough about this…I'm hearing words that I never thought I'd hear in Middleton."
"Hearing?" Zita said. "No notes?"
Monique shook her head. "Crank calls."
Zita nodded in commiseration. "Sucks, doesn't it? These blancas – " She waved at Tara and Bonnie. "All they have to worry about is hearing 'bitch', 'cunt', and 'whore' over and over again. These comemierdas are too stupid to come up with anything better. But us…they know just the right words to hurt us real bad, don't they?"
Monique nodded in agreement, and both boyfriends took their cue to wrap a comforting arm around them.
"Well, to be fair to the shit-eaters," Josh said, drawing a startled look from Zita. "They do have their moments of creativity. I've had a couple offers to 'finish the job' on my face."
"And I've had a couple of guys threaten to break my arms," Felix added, holding up a hand and wiggling his fingers.
"Does this mean it's getting too rough?" Bonnie asked, speaking up for the first time. Surprisingly, it didn't sound like a challenge. For once, it seemed like she was actually concerned about the well-being of her troops.
"Nah," Zita said, waving it off. "Just bitchin'. You gotta let us have that."
"Of course," Bonnie agreed. "It's just…people are getting crazier about this than I thought they would. Especially baldy. If what Aaron says is right, then he's not just cutting corners, he's breaking laws. Who knows what he'll do next?"
"Kim got thrown out for saving our lives," Monique retorted, her voice and her eyes hardening. "We can take it. Now, what are we gonna do about this dress code thing?"
"Maybe we could go the civil disobedience route?" Tara suggested. "If he suspends half of the school over this, things will fall apart."
"Further apart," Josh added.
Bonnie considered that. "Not just yet," she decided. "Let's stay in his face a little while longer."
----
Superintendent Stuart Burlson stormed through the halls of Middleton High, his face like the headlamp of an oncoming train, the between-classes crowd of students wisely scattering before him.
It was a conspiracy. It had to be. He knew that the idea was crazy, the first step toward true paranoia, but he couldn't think of any other explanation. There was no other way that this much catastrophe could intrude on his orderly life at the same time unless it was somehow being orchestrated.
What should have been the relatively simple task of finding a substitute principal had proven impossible. It wasn't that there were no qualified candidates – there were no candidates at all! No calls, no interviews, no resumes – no one wanted the job! How was that even possible? Had Barkin or the teacher's union or…somebody…spread the word that anyone who took the job would regret it?
No. Of course not. That way lay madness. No one wanted to get involved in all the bad publicity, that was all.
Well, whatever the reason, Stuart Burlson had found himself stuck doing Steve Barkin's job for the last three weeks. He'd just had to pull two hulking delinquents apart and have two of the newly-hired security guards haul them to separate rooms in the office because one of them had found his German shepherd messily dead this morning, decided that the other must have done it, and further decided that the appropriate course of action was not to call the police, but start a brawl in the halls of the high school.
Bad enough, but he could hold together a school-full of teenage miscreants. That was what had started this whole mess in the first place. It was everything else that was coming apart.
His friends at Child Services had told him that there was nothing they could do. They weren't being leaned on…they were being flat-out ordered to leave both the Possibles and the Stoppables alone.
The counter-suit wasn't going any better. It turned out that many of the two hooligans' escapades were covered under "Good Samaritan" laws. They couldn't be sued for trying to help. Some – like the "science project" incident – were not, but there were no damages, and if he wanted to press Reckless Endangerment charges for that, he'd also have to file them against Justine Flanner, the pride of Middleton High. He wasn't willing to do that. Yet.
And speaking of lawsuits, the teacher's union was threatening one for breach of contract in the case of one Mr. Steven Barkin!
Then there was the proverbial last straw. Utterly insignificant compared to the other problems, but somehow most infuriating of all.
The students had obeyed his change in the dress code. The day after he'd made the announcement, there hadn't been a single "Bring Back K&R" pin or t-shirt to be seen…on anyone's body.
Instead, they were hung in place of the trophy-banners in the gym; set up in display cases so neatly that it took a second look to realize they didn't belong there; pinned by the dozen to the stage-curtains in the auditorium; strung on clotheslines across the ceiling of the cafeteria, too high to be reached without sending in a janitor with a ladder and drawing yet more attention to them with the disruption. The damned things were everywhere, and that didn't even count the flyers that were taped up all over the school, and the messages that were chalked on the sidewalks.
If only he could find out who was doing it and make a few examples, that particular problem would end. He was sure of it. But he couldn't find out – that was the problem. He'd been shocked to discover that Middleton High had no security cameras; the faculty had claimed that they'd never needed them before. He didn't see how that was possible – even without this campaign of sabotage, the place was barely under control. He'd had to station at least one of his new guards in D-hall on a permanent basis.
And the teachers weren't helping! Some of them had to know who was behind this…psychological warfare. Somebody had to have seen something. But none of them were talking! He didn't doubt that if one of them saw one of the saboteurs at work, they'd just look away, grinning…or walk over and help.
Well, maybe the security cameras would have to wait until he could get them approved by the school board (shouldn't be a problem, they were clearly necessary), but there were other ways to find culprits beside actually catching them in the act, and he was about to use one of them right now.
Bonnie Rockwaller was standing at her locker as he approached. How disappointing. More convenient, perhaps, but he'd been looking forward to using his key.
"Hold it right there, Miss Rockwaller!" He called as she started to close the door. "Leave that locker open!"
She paused for a moment, startled, then gave him a suspicious look and continued to close the door.
What did she think? That he was trying to trick her somehow? That he needed a warrant to search her locker if what he was looking for wasn't in plain sight?
"These lockers are school property, Miss Rockwaller," he reminded her. "We just let you keep things in them. Now leave that one open."
Still looking at him dubiously – as if he was the one acting strangely – she let the door fall back open and stepped back.
He looked into locker and grinned, a great surge of triumph (all too rare these days) welling up inside him.
She'd been right to try and close the door on him, not that it would have mattered in the end. Everything he needed was right there before him.
He had her now. Time to end this nonsense.
----
A crowd gathered around Bonnie Rockwaller's locker as Superintendent Burlson rooted through it. Bonnie stood back, her arms folded, trying to look like this was a mild inconvenience instead of a humiliation.
You knew that this would happen, she told herself. Or something like it. You've been expecting it. Deal.
"Aha!" Burlson shouted, pulling something out of the locker and waving it at her. "What do you call this?"
"I call it a t-shirt," she replied evenly.
"Don't get smart with me, young lady," he snapped, holding the garment in question up so everyone could see it. It had a gorgeous picture of Kim and Ron fighting a Diablo (a Josh Mankey original) scanned onto the chest, with the words 'NOW THEY NEED OUR HELP' on the back. "You know these shirts are banned."
"That's why I'm not wearing it," she said. She already knew how this was going to end, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to make the best showing she possibly could. "I was going to change into it after school." For this afternoon's picket line, she didn't say.
"That doesn't matter. These aren't allowed on school grounds at all, and you know it. And this!" He snatched a small box out of the locker. "What's this?"
"Is chalk banned now, too?"
"I told you to watch your mouth. I don't suppose you know who wrote that cute little message on the front sidewalk this morning?"
"No, I don't." This was true. She'd had to leave the meeting early yesterday, so she didn't know who'd ended up volunteering. The only ones she could really rule out were Felix (his chair's tentacles couldn't do that kind of fine manipulation) and Josh (because he would have gotten caught up in his work and made a magnificent, subversive piece of art – that he would have gotten caught in the middle of).
The 'cute little message' had been "K&R SHOULD BE WALKING IN THIS DOOR TOO".
"Miss Rockwaller," he said, almost purring in satisfaction. "I'm sure that you think otherwise, but I'm far from stupid. I've known all along that you were the instigator behind this little rebellion, and I've just been waiting for you to mess up…just a little. This contraband in your locker fits the bill perfectly."
Contraband? He made it sound like he'd found an Uzi and a dime bag in there.
"So here's what's going to happen: you're going to go home. Right now. And you're going to wonder if you'll ever get to come back, because after all the trouble you've caused in this school, I'm going to see if I can find grounds for your expulsion. But suppose I can't. Suppose you get to come back after a nice week's vacation. That doesn't mean you're out of the woods yet." He leaned in close, his voice dropping. "You see, Miss Rockwaller, I don't think that you're stupid, either. You must have expected something like this to happen at some point. But you must have also expected that everything would come out right for you in the end – that you'd get your friend back in and then everything could go back to the way it was. Well, I can assure you, that's not going to be the case. I'm going to talk to the Athletic Director and make sure that once this little strike is over and the teams come back, that you're not on any of them. She may not like me very much, but I think that she likes what you've done to her livelihood even less. Whether I have to change the disciplinary standards for athletes or if she simply refuses to take you back because you led the walkout, your cheerleading career is finished at Middleton High. Now get out of here."
He turned and started to walk away, but she called after him: "Friends."
He turned back to her, scowling. "I beg your pardon?"
"Friends. Plural. Get my friends back in. Everybody seems to forget that one of them is there, but I'm surprised that you would."
Burlson's face reddened. "You're not helping yourself or them, Miss Rockwaller. Go home."
----
The crowd quickly dispersed as Burlson turned and stormed off. None of them particularly wanted to be the one that he took his spoiled victory out on. Most just scurried away, though some few looked over their shoulders as they went – some snickering, some with pity. Only two people lingered: Josh and Tara.
Heedless of late-bells and vindictive bureaucrats, the blond girl hurried to her friend's side. "Oh, Bonnie, are you okay?" She asked.
Bonnie took a second to answer, but when she did, it was as firm and confident as ever: "Of course I am," she said. "I knew something like this might happen. Just a little bit of a shock when it actually does, you know? Cheerleaders don't even get detentions, so suspension is something totally new."
Tara nodded in agreement, but the concerned frown didn't leave Josh's face.
"Are you sure?" He asked. "You don't have to be tough for us, Bonnie."
"So don't have to," Bonnie said, waving him off. "Look, I'm going to get out of here before Baldson calls the cops on me, but I'll be right back tomorrow, setting up a picket right across the street." She grinned maliciously. "Just off school property."
"And we'll implement Schedule Dress Code," Josh said.
"Right," Tara agreed. "We'll be joining you on the street corner before you know it." Then she blushed like a pre-Ron Kim Possible confronted with a hottie. "That didn't come out right at all…"
Bonnie smiled. "It was sweet anyway. And it sounds like a plan. Now I'd better go, and you'd better go, and I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay? 'Kay. Buh-bye now. I'll see you tomorrow." They tried to protest, but she shooed them toward their next classes before they could. Schedule Dress Code wouldn't be very impressive if everybody got suspended before they could come in with their K&R regalia.
----
Bonnie Rockwaller leaned over the sink in the girls' bathroom and took deep, ragged breaths.
She would not cry. Would not.
Didn't need to be tough for them? Of course she did! She was their leader, wasn't she? If she wasn't going to be tough for them, who would?
Give the chrome-domed bastard his props, he'd found a way to make it hurt. It was like tightening your stomach for a punch in the gut, and getting a kick to the head instead.
Cheerleaders didn't get detentions, let alone suspension…but she wasn't a cheerleader anymore. She was glad that neither Josh nor Tara had thought to bring that up.
The door opened, and she immediately straightened, forcing her breath to even out, forcing all other signs of incipient weeping from her face. It was a skill that her sisters had given her a lot of practice with.
Composure regained, she prepared to turn and march from the bathroom, taking no notice of the newcomer. Nothing going on here, nothing to see. Just answering the call of nature before I leave.
But before she could turn and march, she heard a voice that she hadn't heard in years…not since she'd stopped listening to its owner.
"Why are you doing this, Bonnie?"
----
Bonnie's eyes widened, and she slowly turned to face the speaker.
"Bethie?" She asked.
It was. Five-feet-nothing tall, with a figure like a twelve-year-old boy, coke-bottle glasses and limp, mousy hair, Bethie Kramer was impossible to mistake.
Bonnie wasn't surprised to see her, of course. She saw the less-popular girl around the school every day, and they even passed each other in the bathroom just like this occasionally. The shock was hearing her voice: they hadn't said a word to each other since seventh grade.
Well, wasn't that what you wanted? You sure seemed to think so at the time!
The smaller girl frowned. "I'm just Beth now. No one calls me that anymore."
"Can I?" Bonnie asked plaintively, surprising them both. "Please?"
There was a long moment of silence, during which Bonnie had time to think: Why the hell did I ask that? She's going hate me even more now!
"Okay."
Bonnie blinked. "Okay?"
Bethie nodded. "Okay. But you didn't answer my question."
"Why am I doing this?"
Bethie nodded again.
With a sigh, Bonnie leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. After a moment or two of that, she let her head drop back against it with a bump and another sigh. "Bethie…that is such the long story."
"It must be, because it makes no sense by anything I know about you."
Bonnie's eyes opened and she raised her head. "What do you mean?" She asked.
"I mean that you hate Kim Possible. She was always beating you and getting in your way. But once she was gone, all you had to do was nothing, and you could have had everything you ever wanted."
Bonnie let her head fall back again with another sigh and another bump. "People keep saying that."
"Because it's what you seemed to think was important. With her out of the way, you're at the top of the food chain."
Bonnie raised her head again, and when she opened her eyes this time, they were a little bit angry. "Okay, one:" She held up a finger. "She wasn't the only one who got thrown out – "
"Fair," Bethie interrupted. "But you know that no one would have bothered to throw out Ron Stoppable if Kim hadn't come back. Fair?"
"Fair," Bonnie admitted. "But that still leaves two:" She held up a second finger. "It's the right thing to do,"
Bethie just looked skeptical at that.
"And three," Bonnie paused as she held up a third finger, and when she continued it was very softly. "I've finally figured out that there are some things more important than the food chain."
Bethie stiffened a little at that. "There are?" She asked, her voice flat and unemotional.
Bonnie winced inwardly, but pressed on. "Yeah. This is one subject, I shudder to admit, where Kim Possible was much smarter than I am. She never gave up her best friend in the whole world just because she…" She paused, and her wince was outward this time. She'd been meaning to work up to that. "…he…was hopelessly geek-ridden."
Bethie didn't answer. The seconds ticked on and a silence as fragile and sharp as glass spun out between them.
Finally, Bonnie knew that she had to be the one to break it. She sighed and braced herself. "Look, Bethie, I know you hate me, but – "
"I don't hate you, Bonnie."
"I understand, but – what?"
"I don't hate you," Bethie repeated, shaking her head. "I wanted to. I tried. God knows you deserve it. But I never could."
"I'm glad," Bonnie said. She could have left it at that. She should have. But in the end, she couldn't stop herself from asking yet another question that she knew she shouldn't: "But that's not the same thing as forgiving me, is it?"
Bethie just stared at her for a long moment. Then her eyes started to glisten, and she swallowed hard. "No," she answered, her voice wavering. "You broke my heart, Bonnie."
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, and Bonnie suddenly found herself stepping forward with her arms open. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Being with Bethie reminded her that it had seemed to come so naturally once. Maybe she was remembering how.
But Bethie stepped back, holding her hands up in front of her, ready to push her ex-best friend away. "Don't, Bonnie," she said sharply. "None of the reasons that you dumped me in the first place have changed."
Bonnie stopped and let her arms drop with a sigh. "Maybe not. But I have."
"Have you?" Bethie asked. "You seem to. That's why I came in here. I'd like to believe that, Bonnie. I really would."
Bonnie was about to ask what she could do to prove it, when the bell rang.
"Oh, no!" She cried. "I've kept you in here all period! I'm sorry, Bethie, I didn't mean to get you in trouble!"
Bethie just shrugged. "It's the first time I've ever skipped class in my life, so they'll probably believe me if I say I was sick in the bathroom. Besides, it doesn't make much difference."
"It doesn't?"
"No. After all – " The tiny girl gave a sudden, vicious grin. "I'm going to get into all sorts of trouble tomorrow when I take part in Schedule Dress Code."
----
After Bethie had left, Bonnie had a much clearer understanding of why Kim Possible brought a klutz like Ron Stoppable along on her missions.
----
It turned out that Bonnie saw Josh and Tara again considerably sooner than "tomorrow". They, along with Felix, Monique, Zita, Aaron, and Brick – and almost all of the former sports teams, a good chunk of the student body, most of the faculty, and a fair number of people from the community – attended that afternoon's demonstration.
So did Bethie.
There was a counter-demonstration across the street – considerably smaller, but also considerably angrier. Instead of chanting slogans, they seemed to prefer focusing on shouting insults and threats. One went so far as to throw a rock, but Felix caught it in one of his claws and crushed it to powder, and that was the last time anyone tried that.
It took every scrap of Bonnie's leadership skills to keep her crowd from responding in kind – they were plenty pissed, too, and it seemed that everyone in Middleton's temper was on edge these days – but the last thing they needed was for Kim and Ron's supporters to look as bad for the cameras as their detractors. It was a near thing, but in the end, it worked: keep marching, keep chanting, keep getting the message out. That was the way to win. No riots.
Bonnie made a rather shocking discovery that afternoon. For years, she'd believed that if she made the tiniest slip, showed the slightest weakness, she would fall from the top of the Food Chain and the social wolves would tear her apart. Well, it had finally happened, and the wolves were definitely circling – but there were also those who were helping to fend them off. Asking her if she was alright; telling her not to worry about either Burlson or the people shouting insults based on what had happened that day; promising her that everything would be okay, they'd get her back in, too.
She'd forgotten what it was like to have real friends. True, some of them were new – like Monique, Felix, Zita, and Aaron. But Brick, Josh, and especially Tara had been her friends for years, and she'd never realized it.
She didn't want to go home. But as afternoon darkened into evening and the demonstration broke up, she finally had to.
----
She'd entered the front door quietly, hoping to find her mother and explain the situation before anyone else realized she was home. She didn't need her sisters adding to her misery right now, and Peter Rockwaller (if he was actually home tonight) was liable to be very unhappy that she'd been suspended. Whether it would be her or Superintendent Burlson who would be the target of his wrath was something of a toss-up. Probably both. If she could get to Mom first, maybe she could keep the sitch calm. Probably not, but –
She'd gone no more than a few steps when she realized that she was out of luck. Her whole family was sitting in the living room, watching TV.
That was weird. The last time the whole family had been huddled up together on the couch like that, Daddy had been reading a story to them. Bonnie had been four.
Oh, well. Better get it over with. "Mom, Dad," she said, stepping into the room. "I have something to tell you."
"Shh," Kathy Rockwaller said. "Come here, honey."
Confused, Bonnie did as she was bid – sitting between her parents and letting each of them wrap an arm around her (Mom's other arm was around Connie, Dad's around Lonnie). It felt nice – but also weird. This hadn't happened since she was four, and it was freaking her out.
"Mom, what's going on?"
"Something awful is happening, Bon-Bon."
More than a little frightened by now, Bonnie turned her attention to the screen. As she did, a familiar face appeared on it.
"My fellow Americans," that familiar face said. "People of the world. I bring grave news."
----
Outside, in the dark, something that never should have existed crossed the town line into Middleton. It gave its equivalent of a grin as anticipation filled it. Anticipation of prey – of the hunt, of the kill.
Not yet. For now, it would have to content itself with the animals that lived among its true prey, like those of its kind who had come before it. There were too few of them yet to form a proper pack. But soon. Soon there would be enough.
And then they would feed.
