Hiya! I'm sorry the last chapter was so short, but this is considerably longer. Thank you to all of the people reading or reviewing this. Reviews and constructive critism are very much appreciated.

By the way, I will be using some ideas from the list in this chapter,so if anyone has a preference then please let me know via review or email.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bully or any of its characters.

Lola: Thank God.

Me: Shut up, slag.

Christy: Ha! You just got told off by the author.

Lola: When did you pop up?

Christy: It's a little talent of mine. How do you think I get all my gossip?

Lola: A sad, sick, scary imagination?

Me: Can you two please bitch in private so that I don't decide to write you both out in a freak yacht accident in which there are no survivors? Anyway, on with the chapter.

Chapter 30 - Methods

Bucky's POV

Beatrice wasn't happy.

She didn't tell us that she was miserable, but she said it in other ways; her eyes were dull with pain, her face unsmiling, her voice soft and shaking. Whatever sadness had filled my friends during my hospitalisation, a similar sympathy tore through me at seeing Beatrice so miserable. After a very interesting conversation with Cornelius the next day, we discovered that- thanks to Johnny Vincent- Beatrice's private life hadn't exactly been private. Consequently, I resolved to go rip him a metaphorical new one.

The Auto-shop was silent that day. Usually, long-dead cars roared to life over the gold-voiced rockers crooning from the radio whilst jacket-wearing teenagers spoke of glories such as the cry of a wounded prep or the song of a car's engine. Today, however, silence pervaded the air like toxic fumes. Instead of a group of friends, a lone, brown-haired boy sat on the bench, his fingers in his hair. Not noticing me in his distressed state, he remained mumbling obscenities to himself.

"Johnny." I stated .The greaser stood up with a jolt.
"Hey, Bucky." he replied uncertainly."Is Bea alright?"
"She's been better."
"Shit. She's never gonna forgive me for this, not that I blame her." the greaser muttered, dropping back down to the bench. He didn't seem to be in a much better state than my friend; the normally combed hair was a mess and he was swearing at forty obscenities a second. I stepped forward to offer some comfort, since now the nerds and greasers were unlikely allies after months of constant company.
"She's forgiven us for much worse.". This was the truth- if you got Beatrice angry, she tended to simmer a bit before cooling down, rather than reaching boiling point and seriously harming someone.
"You weren't there. She looked like she was gonna break down! I've been such a bastard."
"You weren't there yesterday when she burst into the Observatory crying her eyes out for a good hour. Do you honestly think she would have been that offended if, say, Mandy had been spying on her?"
"I don't know... An hour? Fuck, I've really screwed up, haven't I?"
"An apology would be a good idea."
"I tried, but she ran off before I could explain. There's a letter in her locker." he replied. Deciding not to mention that Beatrice only uses her locker once every three billion years, I checked my theory about his motives. "Johnny... why did you care who she dates in the first place?" I enquired pointlessly (there weren't many reasons I could think of). He flailed about for a bit, searching for a decent excuse before groaning in defeat.
"I... I like her, OK? I was going gonna ask her out, although I guess that's not very likely now." he admitted ruefully, resting his head in his hands. "I've made such a mess of this. What the hell do to make her see how sorry I am?"

Feeling some small happiness that the greaser's feelings mirrored my friend's, an idea struck me.
"If I help you, would you do anything like that again?" I checked. The greaser looked at me like I'd asked him if he liked Aquaberry.
"Of course not!" he promised. I took a deep breath. Well, if it might cheer them both up a bit...
"I'll see what I can do, then."

Peanut's POV

Johnny wasn't happy.

He hadn't explicitly said it, but it wasn't hard to tell. Once Norton commented that a certain nerd hadn't spoken to him for days, a light switched on in my brain.

My first impression of the Observatory was that it wasn't that different to the Autoshop. Banging echoed through the room at random intervals. The brick walls were sprayed with green patches, ghostly writing still visible underneath. Scarlett red and sunny yellow streaked the sky outside like paint across a canvas. The afternoon sunlight poured into the room.

I soon found the source of the constant banging - a familiar girl held a make-shift gun in both hands, firing at random parts of the wall, particularly "Up to much?" I asked.
"Practicing my aim." the nerd replied in a soft, sad mumble. At that moment, a potato bounced onto the poster, whacking Ted's chest.
"Well done." I congratulated.
"I was aiming for his head." the girl an attempt to destroy the silence, I changed the subject.
"You must be getting really bored with that. Have you got your chemistry book?"
"I've read it today."
"Spoke to the guys?"
"They're having a game meeting."
"Seen Johnny?"

Bea went very quiet.
"You know that avoiding him won't make things better?" I pointed out.
"I know," she sighed, "But what does he want me to say? "It's absolutely fine that you poked around in my private life. Read my diary if you like. I'm not at all mad.". He knows as well as I do that he shouldn't have done it. What has my private life got to do with him, anyway?"
"I... don't know. Do you hate him?". She hesitated before answering.
"Can I be honest?"
"Sure"
"No, I don't. He gets me so angry that I want to whack him over the head with something, but I don't hate him."
"Um... do you like him?"
"...I don't want to talk about it" Yes, then ."I won't just ignore him disregarding my privacy."
"OK... I've gotta go. Thanks for your time."

Johnny's POV

Tap,tap,tap.

The blond girl at the door wasn't the one I was hoping for - she was a good foot shorter and a few years younger.

"One of the nerd boys asked me to bring this. And the other boys asked me to tell you that they're only bleeping bleping helping you because their friend is unhappy , and that if you bleeping hurt her, he will personally rip off your bleeps and shove them so far up your bleep that you'll be bleeping them out in a bleeping month's time." she squeaked, holding out a folded piece of lined paper.
"Thanks." I muttered, slightly surprised that the nerds would say that in front of a first year.

Once the door shut, I dumped myself down on the bench, unfolding the paper:

"Methods that might make Beatrice forgive you

1. Subliminal Messaging(If you decide on this, let us know) .
Pro- She might not notice.
Con- Risks her realising and getting even more annoyed because we tried to influence her.

2. Hang outside her dorm until she does.
Pro- If all else fails, you can threaten to wake Christy up.
Con- A bit creepy and very cliched. Shakespeare's already done it (use as last resort)

3. Grovel.
Pro- Might work.
Con- She may assume that you aren't actually sorry that you spyed, but instead that she caught you.

4. Be very nice to her.
Pro- Makes your apology a bit more believable.
Con- She may feel that you are brown-nosing and not listen to you.

5. Nothing.
Pro- She will forgive you eventually.
Con- You will probably die of old age before she does."

"This is not good."

If anyone has a prefered choice, then please let me know. There isa poll up on my profile page.