To a Squirrel at Kyle-na-no

CHAPTER 8

I figure you all pretty much know the gist of it by now.

So please, read on, enjoy.

All the usual disclaimers apply.

AN: just a bit of a warning, we're starting to tap into the darker side of high school…swearing and drug abuse ahoy!


The principal of St. Peter's highschool was a tall, bony woman by the name of Abigail Fuels. She had lengthy blonde-grey hair that always seemed to be glued to her head in a tight little bun, and cheekbones that jutted out of her aging skin. Despite her strict appearance, she was actually a rather kind woman, who was quite fond of the school.

In other words, she was a dramatic contrast from the short, bald and round vice-principal.

Assembly occurred weekly in the great hall, and was, Manfred estimated, 43 hours of his year that he would never get back. If he were to be frank, (and really, was he ever anything less?) the great hall wasn't that great…in fact, it was a rather small, square room that had close to 800 chairs stacked in several, unhealthy close rows. Minimum breathing space of course, and Manfred was sure that the room alone was in severe breach of more than a few human rights.

This was getting off track.

Right now, Ms. Fuels picked at her fake nails, glancing at the school from behind the small wooden podium. Her grey eyes crinkled in something akin to amusement, and she cleared her throat in every essence of the stereotype, not bothering to cover her mouth.

"It has come to my attention, students," She began, a grin creeping at the corners of her thin, red lips. "That we are nearing the end of the first semester of 2006 at St. Peter's highschool."

The crowd of students cheered, holidays were near, and reminders were, of course, always welcome.

Ms. Fuels smiled again, the light reflecting off her whitened teeth, "And thus far, there have been no casualties, no incidents to tarnish the reputation of our esteemed academy. No silly students doing silly things. All in all, I am impressed."

The students cheered again, some actually going as far as to pat their friends on the back, something Manfred took particular cynicism in.

"So, I do believe a reward is in order."

Silence covered the hall, as each student waited in eager anticipation.

"The Friday of next week, St. Peter's shall hold a dance."

Ms. Fuels had hardly finished the sentence before the hall erupted into rowdy applause. Personally, Manfred didn't think this was much of a reward, well; he didn't until Ellie grinned at him from across the great hall.


Manfred wandered over to the table, where Sid and Diego sat in silence, one at either end of the table. It struck him as bizarre really, that Sid wasn't actually talking, because as far as he knew, the freshman could talk through unconsciousness.

Diego sat back in his chair, cigarette once again at home, dangling from his pursed lips (Manfred had no idea how he got away with that). He had a deck of cards in hand, shuffling them in blatant absent-mindedness. Across the table sat Sid, taking abnormally huge bites from the school's everything-on-it burger, not taking his eyes off the lunch tray in front of him.

Walking the rest of the short distance to the table, Manfred dropped his fire truck-red tray down, startling the pair out of their daze.

"What's with the moping?" He asked, sitting himself heavily down onto the bench.

Sid shrugged, mouth full of burger as he waved an out-of-proportionally large hand at Manfred. "Not moping."

Across the table, Diego shrugged, still shuffling the cards.

Well, that was productive, Manfred thought, that's what he gets for pretending to give a shit. Still…there was something that had been niggling at him…"About yesterday…"

Sid glanced up at him again, and shook his head happily, "Don't worry, buddy. I'm too lazy to hold a grudge."

The older boy rolled his eyes, picking up a sandwich from the tray before him, ignoring the curious look Diego threw his way.

"Like I was going to apologize."

Sid either didn't hear, or chose to ignore, opting instead to shove the remnants of his everything-burger into his mouth. He swallowed furiously, rubbing his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, before standing up.

"I'll be back, friends, the lunch counter is calling me for seconds."

It was a matter of seconds before Sid took off at a particularly speedy waddle, leaving the two other members of his peculiar clique alone.

Diego's lips curled into a smirk as he leant forward, his face mere inches from Manfred's. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, putting it out on the tray in front of him. The cards were no longer being shuffled in his graceful fingers, now they remained flat on the table in front of him.

"A dance, eh?"

Manfred furrowed his brow, staring the younger boy in the eye. That's what you had to do with predators, don't back down, don't submit…they'll get you otherwise, straight for the jugular.

"Guess so." Manfred stated, picking the onion from his sandwich.

"You gonna take Ellie?"

Manfred didn't flinch, startled as he was. He'd been dealing with people like this most of his life…still, there was something different about Diego.

"Whadda you care?"

The slighter boy shrugged, leaning back in his chair slowly. The epitome of cool, although that was hardly much of a surprise anymore.

"I don't." Diego stated, lighting another cigarette.

"Then why ask?"

Diego didn't respond, which really wasn't much of a surprise either. Manfred was hardly a man easily confused, but he'd been feeling increasingly perplexed more and more frequently lately…between Ellie and Sid and now Diego.

Diego…Diego was a character, but then again, so was Sid. Only Diego had secrets, he had attitude and ghosts and bad habits, and Manfred couldn't read him. That's what he hated most.

Why had he defended Sid? Why had he sat with them? Why in fucking hell was he still sitting with them?

There was something that simply wasn't right about Diego Pride, something that smelt of danger, and Manfred wasn't sure what the hell he was gonna do about it.


The final bell rung with such clear intensity from the alley behind the gym that it was almost deafening, well, at least those were Senwe's personal thoughts. If you asked anyone else though, they'd simply tell you it was because Senwe tended to be grossly hung over by the time three o'clock rolled around.

Today was no different, and as Zeke laughed loud and clear in his ear, Senwe did the only thing he could. He decked the sucker.

The alley behind the schools gym was a bizarre area that few students had actually discovered. Dark concrete slabs as far as one could see, the only eye candy, the only scenery being the broken sports equipment and the towering bins.

Soto stood proud and tall of his little kingdom, leader of their little gang. Zeke, Ace and Senwe however, sat flat against the bins, the putrid smell of left over lunches, gym socks and used condoms drowning out any trace of the pot leaking from Zeke's joint.

"Diego ain't gonna show, huh?" Zeke muttered, rubbing his blooming black eye, body twitching – as always.

"He'll be here…loyal little shit he is." Senwe answered his cousin, before shrinking slightly at Soto's disapproving stare.

Their leader didn't answer, not that he ever responded to Zeke anyway, but his eyes were elsewhere, zoning in on something. Diego had just turned the corner.

Soto grinned – leered – in that somehow blatantly sinful way that only Soto could. He knew something, had a plot, had a plan…something he was yet to enlighten his little gang with. In other words, he looked like the cat who'd caught the canary.

Diego nodded at Soto, ignoring the other three boys. Again, hardly out of the ordinary.

The older boy tucked an arm around Diego's shoulder, pulling him towards the group. "Heard about the dance?"

Diego's golden eyes narrowed to slits. "What of it?"

"Your going. So are they." Soto tilted his head in the direction of the other three boys, not paying any heed to Zeke's maniacal, high giggle. Marijuana would kill whatever brain cells he'd have left.

Diego knew not to ask questions, not when Soto was in this sort of mood. Not when he had something big up his sleeve. So he didn't say a word as Soto leant down to Zeke, plucking the joint straight from his shaking fingers. He inhaled contently, he was outright proud of himself.

Still, Diego said nothing, not even flinching as volumes of marijuana fumes were blown in his face, Soto's arm ever present around his shoulders. There was only so much bragging the man could do, before he had to tell others of his conquest.

Soto leant in close, his mouth a hairs breath away from Diego's ear. "We're going to perform the biggest drug heist in high school history."

He leant back again, a downright immoral smirk darkening his attractive features. "It's almost a shame," He said, voice no louder than a whisper, "That we won't be getting the credit for it."

That wasn't right; Soto had always been a glory hog. A proud man by nature, not one to pass the torch.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

If it was possible, Soto's face grew darker, more wicked. "Your good friend Manny Torelli will be remembered, Diego.

And really, Diego wasn't sure what to think about that.


TBC.