Chapter 4: Next Morning

Author's Note:Sorry for the delay. :( Thanks to my beta, Airenko! Also, thanks tons to the people who review, especially Mrs.Revovler!

--

Warm summer sunlight streamed in through the window, dappled by the moth-eaten curtains that hung limply. It couldn't have been past six; the birds could actually be heard in New Coventry at this time, where the city was asleep from the night of mischief and partying before. It was peaceful at the moment, and all in all, a perfect time to be virtually glued to the best friend you had a crush on because of the sweat and semen from last night's activities.

Well, maybe not quite.

Peanut murmured softly in his sleep, his cheek pressed awkwardly against Johnny's chest. While Peanut was mostly contained, his hands close to his chest, Johnny had decided to nearly envelop Peanut. There was an arm flung over him, and a leg, like he was scared of him suddenly up and running in the middle of the night. Peanut yawned sleepily, slowly stretching his arm out around Johnny. Johnny grumbled lightly, his arm winding tighter around Peanut, and pulling him close.

Peanut blearily opened his eyes, groaning at the bright light that seemed to hit him. He pressed his face against Johnny's chest, closing his eyes again.

"Stupid… light… mmnn…" Peanut murmured. His eyes suddenly opened, and he pulled his head away from Johnny's chest, looking up. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes went wide.

Even though he smelled awful and his hair was plastered every which way, Peanut could not have noticed a more beautiful face. He reached up numbly, his knuckles brushing against Johnny's cheekbone. He murmured gently under his touch, smiling lightly in his sleep.

Peanut closed his eyes, wrapping his arm around Johnny again. 'We did it last night… didn't we?' He smiled lightly, pressing his cheek against Johnny's chest, hearing his heart thump under the skin. Even though he was sporting a dull, thumping headache, he couldn't be happier about last night. 'Now he'll know… he'll realize what he means to me, what I mean to him.' He was feeling giddy, and though all Peanut wanted to do at the moment was jump up and start dancing, he decided laying in Johnny's arms was much better.

Johnny mumbled something unintelligible, his arms tightening around Peanut, and he pressed his face down, his lips against his scalp. Peanut blushed, his hands gripping Johnny's hips. Johnny kissed his hair, his eyes opening to slits.

"Hullo…" Johnny whispered quietly, yawning. He kissed his hair, sleepily nuzzling his head.

Peanut smiled. "Good mornin'…"

Johnny's whole body suddenly tensed against him, the hand around Peanut digging into his side. He pulled away from him, nearly falling off the small mattress as he stared at Peanut. He rubbed at his eyes furiously, gazing at Peanut with a vacant, confused stare.

Peanut chewed his lip, his stomach flipping and feeling queasy. Johnny reached out, and Peanut flinched when his hand came into contact with his face; just a light, curious touch, to see if he was really there. He suddenly pulled back like he was on fire, groaning, and rolling over onto his knees off the mattress. "Oh, Christ, fuckin' ace, fuckin' ace…" he growled, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

Peanut propped himself up on his elbows, feeling numb. "… Johnny?"

"… Larry," Johnny let out a ragged sigh. "Tell me I didn't fuck you, please."

Peanut grabbed the pillow they had used, stuffing it on top of his crotch. He needed some sort of security, now that Johnny was looking at him with those eyes filled with… disgust. (Was it aimed at him, or self-disgust? Peanut looked away, feeling sick.) "You mean… like… no, nothing like that…" Peanut mumbled. Johnny turned around, looking pale.

"We… What did we do?" Johnny pressed a hand up to his forehead, trying to quell the pain. He could barely remember anything of last night; it started with him being bitter, then alcohol… more alcohol… His eyes fell on Peanut awkwardly holding the pillow to himself, and his face seemed to fall. Pillow…"Never mind," he said quietly, his eyes on Peanut. Peanut went red with embarrassment, clutching the pillow tightly. He remembered last night, through glassy eyes as he coaxed Peanut back to bed. He should have let him run. "I remember what we did." He turned around again, standing up, and pacing the room.

Peanut frowned, looking down at the mattress. "I…" His voice died out at the sound of the boards squeaking under Johnny's feet. There wasn't a worse feeling in the word, sitting on a mangy mattress while trying to ignore your best friend pacing naked throughout his room.

"…Look." Johnny stopped, running a hand through his hair, and looking at Peanut. "Let's just forget all about this, alright?" he said, then quickly turned and walked toward his dresser, not even bothering to wait for an answer from Peanut.

Johnny started to rummage through clothes, something to occupy his trembling hands. He felt dirty. There was something disgusting on his stomach, and he would have been in the shower by now if his mind was not still trying to process how he could have done these things with his best friend.

And why Peanut wasn't half as disturbed as he should be. Not even a quarter. Why wasn't he running away in disgust? Wasn't he the one last night that wanted to leave?

"Forget about it…?" Peanut parroted numbly, looking at the pillow he was wringing in his hands. God, what a fool he was. It was all the Budweiser and Coors talking last night, and he had been none the wiser.

"Yes!" Johnny barked suddenly, whirling around. Peanut looked absolutely pale, frightened even, and Johnny's face softened slightly. He looked so pitiful sitting there, and he looked like he was close to tears. "We have to keep this silent." He pointed a finger at Peanut. "I'm not a faggot, and neither are you."

Peanut frowned, standing quietly, and still clutching the pillow to his body as he gathered his things. "So, you can't tell no one," Johnny continued. "'Specially any of the guys, and not Lola… urrggh, we'd never hear the end of it. They wouldn't respect me anymore; we'd be kicked out, clique-less, one of those weird buggers like Constantinople or whatever the hell his name is…"

"What if I am a faggot?" Peanut asked bluntly, shimmying his dirty underwear on. Johnny stared at him, and Peanut cast him a fleeting glance, turning slightly red, and concentrating back on putting his clothes on. "I-I mean… I liked last night, Johnny, and so did you. Maybe we're… bisexual?" he ventured, his voice becoming meeker as Johnny's mouth gaped a little bit more.

"…We…. We were dunk last night, Larry, piss-drunk." He feigned a grin, trying to keep up a playful tone so the conversation wouldn't take a quick nosedive into awkwardness. "You would probably hump a couch if it had lipstick on-"

"No. I told you last night, Johnny, I'd do-"

"Shut up, Larry," Johnny interrupted quickly, his face turning serious, "Just shut up."

"Didn't you like it?" Peanut asked desperately, standing there only in his boxers. "I mean, Johnny, ya moaned a lot last night, you had to-" Peanut yelped and ducked as a bottle of hair spray went through the space his head had been just a few seconds before, hitting the wall hard, and bouncing off.

"Get the fuck out!" Johnny screamed. Peanut hurriedly grabbed his things as Johnny stalked forward, "Just get out, get out of my God damn room!" He looked ready to kill Peanut, his eyes flashing. "Johnny Vincent ain't no fucking faggot!"

"Johnny!" Peanut yelled, squealing as he barely dodged a ceramic piggy bank. It hit the opposite wall, shattering on impact, and sending shards every which way. He struggled on his shirt, his shoes and socks clutched in one hand.

Johnny lunged for him, and he would have tackled Peanut to the floor if his foot hadn't gone right through one of the broken pieces. He shouted, cursing, and stumbling back as his foot came up. The white ceramic stuck through the dirty sock like bone, red running through and quickly staining. "Son of a bitch…!" Johnny cursed loudly, his face twisting in pain as he quickly sat down, and cradled his pained foot.

Peanut gave Johnny a sympathetic frown, taking a slight step forward. Johnny glared at Peanut, his teeth bared from the pain. "Get out."

"Johnny," Peanut sounded desperate. "Let me help, I don't want-"

"I don't need you! Get out!" Johnny yelled, his voice cracking at the end. He grit his teeth, bowing his head in pain.

Peanut paused, before reluctantly leaving. He barely caught the half-muffled sob that floated from Johnny's room as he left.

He hadn't really expected that.

---

"What's wrong with you, pauper?"

"Yeah, you dirty oil slick, you've been limping around like a wounded dog. Oh, well, I guess it makes sense; your mother is a bitch."

Derby gave Bif a congratulatory smile, and Bif beamed. Johnny frowned at them, staring nastily at the two. "Harrington and Tremblay. Aw, don't you two butt-buddies look nice." Bif frowned, clenching his fists, and Johnny just continued, his voice dripping with malicious sarcasm, "I bet you're so proud of your boyfriend of makin' a funny, eh, Derby?"

Derby scoffed. They were usually civil enough in class where they wouldn't have to pull out such low blows like sexuality. "What put you in such a mood? Lola got someone else's tongue?" he asked smugly.

Johnny gripped his desk tightly. "You take that back, you son of a-"

"Gentlemen!" Mr. Galloway's voice projected through the room, making all three students turn and look over at him. The class became suddenly quiet, turning around to gaze over at them. Mr. Galloway knew he shouldn't have seated them all together in the back, but there was no better way to create friendliness than by squashing two enemies together, right? "Please, concentrate on the words that are on your paper and not the ones that are coming out of your mouths. Summer is creeping up on us, and the finals are only in a month!" He clasped his hands together, giving them a smile.

Johnny glowered at Derby and Bif. Derby stuck his nose up, making a point not to even look in Johnny's direction. Besides, Bif was doing all of the angry, hateful glaring for him.

"Good. Now, please try to peacefully complete the assignment, alright?" Mr. Galloway asked, smiling. He turned, sitting back down at his desk. It didn't take long for the rest of the class to start murmuring again, and eventually the sound climbed back into a dull roar.

Johnny propped up his wounded foot on the back of a nerd's chair. ("Ew… Johnny, please don't put those-", "Shut it!", "O-okay.") The sandal he was wearing was so oddly uncharacteristic of him; it would have made more sense if he was growing an extra horn or wearing the sandal as a hat. They were the only pair he had, worn brown ones, and the only thing he could bare to wear with his wrapped up foot.

"Your feet are downright foul, Vincent. No wonder you wear those unfashionable boots all of the time. They're only marginally better than the smell those two disease ridden things you call feet exude," Derby taunted, his eyes concentrated on his paper so as not to alert Galloway. Johnny scowled, leaning back in his chair. "I guess that happens when you live in a disgusting, filthy place like New Coventry; stepping on the whiskey bottles your drunk of a mother leaves around." Harrington was being particularly nasty today, but mostly all of the preppies were. Only after a day, and the whole school knew at least a partial bit of the story; Lola got caught screwing some townie, and they had broken up.

Johnny gripped his pencil tightly, his face suddenly becoming devoid of emotion. "Shut it, Harrington, Galloway says we need to get our work done."

Derby raised an eyebrow at him, glancing over. That was odd. Usually when something bothered Johnny, he would explode back in reply. Being silent and taking it like a chump wasn't his style. "When has English ever been your priority?" Johnny didn't reply, just gazed passively at his paper. Derby frowned.

And then something struck Derby; Peanut wasn't there. The four of them sat in the back every English class: Derby and Bif sat in a row, and were directly across from Johnny and Peanut. Peanut never missed Galloway's classes, unless Johnny did. (But, Derby always regarded Peanut as a sort of leech. He'd jump off a bridge with Johnny if he chose.) So why wasn't he here?

Derby's grin grew wide, his eyes narrowing as he internally congratulated himself for being so brilliant. Bif gave him a questioning look, noticing the change in mood, but Derby simply leaned near Johnny, tapping his pencil idly on his desk.

Johnny frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. He looked up, reaching for Derby's hand, but he withdrew it too quickly. He wagged it at Johnny, just making him frown more. "Where's your boyfriend, Vincent?" he asked smoothly, flashing him a sharp grin full of teeth.

(Later on, Earnest- who was the nerd that Johnny decided would enjoy the company of his feet- would say that he never even noticed Johnny leap from his seat. He had moved so fast and smoothly that it only occurred there was nothing right up next to him because the stench was suddenly gone, and Derby screamed bloody murder.)

Derby shrieked as Johnny literally lunged over the side of the desk, tackling Derby back and out of his desk onto the floor. The whole class rose into commotion, everyone standing from their seats, and cheering as Johnny slugged Derby right in the face. "Fight, fight, fight!"

Bif yelled and jumped from his seat, tackling Johnny off of Derby just as he landed a punch straight to his nose.

"Take that back, you fuckin' fairy!" Johnny snarled, grappling with Bif. Derby was sitting on the floor, dazedly clutching his bleeding nose. Bif took the time to wrestle Johnny on his back, trying to get a fist into his face.

Mr. Galloway had gotten off of his seat so fast it clattered backward. "Gentlemen! Get off of each other!"

Johnny grabbed at Bif's fist, but Bif used his other to drive it right into Johnny's face. He yelped, barely managing to put his hands up in front of his face before Bif hit him again. Galloway ran over, pushing through the ring of students that were rallying on the fight. He gripped the collar of Bif's shirt, yanking him off of Johnny.

Johnny jumped up to his feet, going over to Derby, who had removed himself to a corner to nurse his bleeding nose. Galloway frowned, holding onto Bif's collar so tight that he had to stand on his tiptoes to be able to even breath. "Vincent! If you lay another hand on your fellow student, you will regret it." Mr. Galloway said sternly.

Bif frowned. "Yeah, you dirty pau- aahhh!" Galloway yanked hard on Bif's collar.

Johnny took a step towards Derby. Derby just sneered at him, still holding his nose. "What?" His voice was nasally; it sounded odd with his accent. "Going to punch me again? Go again. It'll make your boyfriend proud."

Johnny yelled, lunging for Derby again. He was stopped by something grabbing his jacket, jerking him backwards, hard. He fell right on his ass, and a foot came down on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Johnny wheezed, gripping the foot, and looking up.

Staring down at him was a very angry looking Seth Kolbe. Johnny paled. "You're done for, evil doer!" He grabbed Johnny's ear, wrenching him up. "Thankfully, we heard the commotion from the hallway. No you're going to get it!"

"Ow, ow, watch it!" Johnny whined, staggering quickly to his feet so his ear wouldn't be pulled off.

"You're going down to the office. I hope you like week-long detentions," Kolbe barked, whirling around. Johnny yelled in pain, stumbling forward. Johnny spotted Bif Tremblay being dragged off by the other prefect, Edward. Of course, Derby wasn't going to get in trouble. Kolbe started to drag him off, and Johnny shot a glare over his shoulder at Derby, who looked absolutely smug for someone who had blood all over their clothes.

"Tell your boyfriend I said 'Hello'," Derby crooned softly.

Johnny's glared. "Fuck you, Harrington!"

Kolbe tugged on his ear, hard. "Let's go, stop talkin' and start walkin'!" Johnny frowned, grumbling darkly under his breath as he was yanked along. The day was growing worse as it grew longer, and he hoped there would finally be a reprieve to his bad luck. He didn't know how much of this he could survive.

---

It was amazing how silent the car garage could become under the right circumstances. The ingredients were simple: throw in a pinch of Lola Lombardi, a sprinkle of Johnny Vincent, a dash of flowers, and a whole lot of awkward, and if you bake it for less than a few seconds of eye contact, it made for a delicious serving of heavy, horrible silence.

Lola just stared at the flowers, a bit dumbfounded. She slowly chewed on her gum, leaning back against the shelf. Her eyes went from the flowers, then up to Johnny. Her whole face was blank, almost callous. "Are these for me?" Her voice hinted at nothing, and Johnny shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heavy stares of his peers bore into the back of his head.

"Yeah," Johnny said gruffly, taking in a deep breath so that his chest stuck out. He needed to keep that air of manliness around himself. The last thing he wanted was to be reduced to a pile of muck in Lola's hands in front of everyone. "They're for you."

Lola straightened, crossing her arms over her cleavage. She raised an eyebrow at Johnny, looking up at him. "Excuse me?"

Johnny flushed, looking at his feet. Well, his plans never seemed to work, anyway. "I'm sorry, Lola." He pushed the flowers forward. "I got these, hopin' you'd forgive me and take me back?" Somewhere in the back he heard somebody make a disgusted noise from the back of their throats, and his cheeks burned red. If only they knew what a woman could make you do; then, they would understand.

Lola smiled, her arms uncrossing. Johnny exhaled, his shoulders drooping. "Of course, Johnny!" She took the flowers, sniffing them quickly before she threw her arms around Johnny in a hug. He hugged her back tightly, hands settling on her waist as she pulled away from the embrace. "'Course, I don't fully forgive you, but I guess we can work it out, right?" Lola said, batting those thick eyelashes of hers.

Johnny nodded. "Uh-huh." He leaned in for a kiss, his eyes closing, and met Lola's hand. He flushed, pulling his face away to the light chuckling of the other greasers.

"Nuh-uh, Johnny Vincent," Lola said with a smirk, wagging her finger at her boyfriend. "You gotta be makin' up to me before you can make out with me." She pulled away from his limp grip, her hands on her hips. "You know I ain't that kinda girl."

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know what ya mean. Sorry."

Lola smiled. "That's okay, Johnny. You can just make it up to me by takin' me out shoppin' tomorrow, after I get my nails done," she said smoothly, and Johnny faked a smile as someone under one of the cars laughed, banging around so that it would muffle their amusement.

"Okay, Lola," Johnny said softly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Lola beamed. "Good! I'll see ya later, Johnny!" She turned, waving quickly at him before walking out of the garage with her flowers. Johnny sighed, looking at his feet, and wiggling the toes in the sandal. It was the only thing he could focus on right now to get his mind off of the sinking feeling in his stomach. He was made into an idiot in front of all of his friends…

But Johnny needed Lola, and she needed him. Everything worked out in the end. He said nothing to the other greasers, just leaving the same way he had entered. They wouldn't understand. Lola was his girl. He needed somebody to take care of, somebody to make him feel important, and loved. None of them knew what love was like. But Johnny Vincent? Johnny Vincent knew the true definition of love: Lar- Lola Lombardi.

'I need Lola, I do…' That's what he told himself at the muffled chuckles that floated from the garage.

----

"So, Larry," Tad said casually, though the smirk spoke wonders of why he was really sparking up conversation with Peanut. He threaded his fingers together, leaning forward in his desk. "How's Lombardi been recently? I haven't seen her since her and Gord's shopping expedition."

Peanut's brow furrowed, and his knuckles turned white around his pencil. Tad let out a good-natured chuckle. He had finished his test early, and was free to go; but the chance of tormenting Peanut- who was dawdling with the written responses- was too good to pass up. Their rivalry was something akin to Johnny and Derby's, but much less elegant. It was all about low blows since the first day of school, when Peanut had the audacity to bump into Tad. Tad had commented on the extremely obvious, and their mutual hatred was shared since. "I suppose I should get ready for her appearance any day now. After those spats she always has with Vincent, she'll cling to the first person who will provide her money and a good f-"

Peanut slammed his pencil down on the desk, glaring murderously at Tad. "You know what, Spencer, why don't you just shut your inbred mouth?"

Tad frowned. Not a battle fitting of a high-class elite, but the nasty words always made it more exciting and feral. There was no thinking in the insults, just schoolyard hatred. "Larry," Peanut's frown deepened. (Johnny was the only one that called him Larry; he was the only person he was comfortable talking so bluntly with.) Tad just loved to let his real name roll off of his tongue, disregarding the nickname he had given him. Irony never tasted so bitter. "Your words wound me so. Aren't I stating the obvious?"

Peanut's eyes narrowed, and he turned his face away from Tad before he gave anything else away. He roughly grabbed his pencil, pushing from his desk. Hattrick looked up quietly from his grading as he stomped forward, messily placing the question and answer sheet where they belonged. He was one of the last people, save a few jocks that straggled behind. "Finally finished. Move along, Romano," Hattrick said gruffly, looking back down at his book.

He missed how Peanut rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. Can't wait to get the hell outta here…"

Hattrick looked up, his face coloring. "Young man! I should give you detention for such impudence!" His booming voice suddenly fell, and he planted a fake smile on his face, concentrating on the spot beyond Peanut's head. "Have a good day, Mr. Spencer."

Peanut made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes, and turning sharply toward the door. If the new Rolexes during test time didn't cue anybody off, his uncharacteristically nice behavior told anyone loud and clear that Mr. Hattrick was a dirty teacher. If only he had enough money, he'd be paying off every one of the teachers. Instead, he'd have to flounder around and pray to all that was holy he would pass Geometry this year.

He pushed through, letting the door bang loudly behind him. There was barely anybody else in the hallways; just some nerds, the bullies that loved to torment them, and the brown-nosing little kids. Classes were over, and everybody else had fled outside to enjoy the warm weather. Peanut straightened his coat, pushing noisily through the double doors that lead outside. He squinted as the bright sunlight hit his eyes, taking the steps down two at a time.

The sound of light footsteps behind him made his shoulders stiffen, and he glared at the ground, veering left, and heading towards the garage - but the footsteps continued to dog him.

"What the hell do you want, Spencer?"

Tad chuckled. "We never finished our conversation, Larry!" Peanut glowered at the ground. "About Lola Lombardi. You became so furious when I mentioned her, but everybody knows about your crush on her." Tad paused, then laughed loudly. "Or, maybe Gord said it was Johnny Vincent you had a crush on?"

Peanut stopped walking, and Tad continued on, not looking back. "It's so obvious. Like Bif and Derby, but twice as… brutish. Too bad Vincent isn't like that. No, he'd rather have a ride on the STD machine," he said, chuckling.

Spencer turned to look at Peanut, grinning. He barely let out a gasp before Peanut's fist collided with his nose, and the other into his stomach. Tad yelped, wheezing and doubling over, staggering to his knees. Peanut swiftly lifted his leg up, kicking him in his shoulder. Tad yelled, clutching his bleeding nose as he fell down on the hard ground.

"Everybody thinks," Peanut snarled harshly, his fists shaking, "That they can push me around. Kid named Peanut can't do shit, right?" Tad sat up, but Peanut quickly walked up, placing his boot on Tad's chest, and slamming him back down. Tad yelled in pain, wincing, and clutching his nose. "Well, I'm not doing it anymore. I'm going to stand up for myself-"

"Charming, really, Larry," Tad hissed painfully, grabbing Peanut's leg, and jerking. But his foot didn't move, instead grounding into his chest even more. Tad let out a small wheeze, his eyes widening.

Peanut smirked triumphantly, grinding his heel a bit more. Tad let out a pained whine, grabbing his foot. "Larry!"

"It's Peanut." Peanut snapped quickly, pointing a finger at him. "Peanut. Got that? You're not Johnny-fucking-Vincent, you're just a stupid rich kid who likes to stare at other guy's crotches. It'sPeanut."

"Okay!" Tad nearly whined. "Just stop… I think you're going to break something, you dredge!"

Peanut laughed. He titled his head back, eyeing Tad dramatically. Tad's eyes widened, and he started to struggle. "Don't you dare, you filthy-!"

Peanut cleared his throat loudly, pausing for dramatic buildup. When Tad slipped slightly from under his foot, Peanut let it go, spitting in his face. Tad howled, and Peanut let out a short, barking laugh, lifting his foot off of Tad, and turning. The sound of his grumbles and whimpers hit his ears, and he grinned.

Inside, he felt terrible.

Didn't Johnny always say this was the best way to relieve stress? Beat the snot out of some rich kid? It seemed plausible enough. He really did hate that inbred bastard to the core, every single part of him for giving him such a horrible nickname. Peanut had humiliated Tad numerous times, with Johnny and without, and each time he left feeling happier and proud. Why did he regret it now?

Peanut stopped, sighing raggedly. 'Maybe I am a queer…' He turned around, his eyes on Tad. Tad had sat up, still holding his nose, his other hand vainly trying to dust off the dark footprint on his Aquaberry vest. He glanced up, his eyes caught with Peanut's. He frowned darkly. "Oh, come to spit on me again, you dirty pauper?"

Peanut said nothing, approaching closer. When Tad was sure he was in arm's reach, he flinched. Nothing came. He looked up at Peanut, and then at his outstretched arm. His eyes narrowed. "Is this a trick?"

"No, you elitist asshole. Just take my hand, will ya? You're a mess."

Tad paused, considering it. Very reluctantly, he took his hand. He was too confused and hurt at the moment to really think it through; he was touching an oil slick's hand, for God's sake, but to his surprise Peanut's grip on his hand tightened. He pulled him up, and Tad stumbled ungracefully to his feet, eyeing Peanut like he had grown an extra head.

"What new sort of drug are you smoking now a days, grease ball? Because you'reobviously disorientated with your clique orientation."

Peanut snorted. "I still hate your fuckin' guts. But…" he paused, scuffing his shoe on the ground and looking away, "You look pretty pitiful on the ground. Besides, you're not worth the anger."

Tad sniffed, dusting himself off. "Not worth it? You've got a terrible sense of worth. I'll let you know, my father's company is worth-"

"No." Peanut turned away, starting to walk towards the large front gates that would lead him away from this place. "I've got a perfect sense of worth. I know that you aren't worth my time, 'cause it's not like it will change what you did. Lola isn't worth Johnny, 'cause we all know she's done everybody on campus already. I know what things are worth."

"Maybe you should become a businessman, Romano," Tad said sarcastically, watching him leave. He touched his nose, wincing at the blood that stained his fingers red. Peanut shrugged, saying nothing else as he kept on walking. Tad frowned. "Don't think you've won this, Peanut!"

Larry didn't reply as he hunched his shoulders, and sped up his walk. He needed to find Johnny.