If Only Everyone had Their Own Knight in Shining Armor
Author's Note: Hey! Thanks so much to all of you who've reviewed my story. I truly enjoyed hearing from everyone. Some of you even told me who you liked best, who you wanted to stab with a butter knife, and what you wanted to happen. I'll try my best to keep writing when school starts. Please keep reading, and let me know what you think. I love hearing from all of you!
Humiliation burned. It clawed it's way up Chase's throat and nearly demolished her lungs. Her entire body felt like it was on fire as she ran out of cafeteria, a piece of meat still clinging to her hair. Even once she was sitting properly on the toilet cover in a bathroom stall, she couldn't stop shaking. What kind of a place was this, anyway?
She looked down at herself, and immediately closed her eyes. Her dress was ruined. No, scratch that, her entire social life was ruined. Chase couldn't even begin to imagine how she would later try to explain this to Hannah, without her mother calling the principal and demanding justice.
No, she couldn't risk having everyone know that Chase needed her mom to help fight her battles. Chase looked down again, this time, her logical side kicking in. She should be able to get all the food out. And the rest, she'd just tell Mark that she'd been careless and had accidentally spilled her drink. Anything than to give that girl the satisfaction of knowing what a little weakling Chase was.
Outside, Chase listened quietly as she heard the muffled sounds of students walking in the halls outside. Someone pulled the door open, and Chase could immediately hear the sounds outside being magnified ten times. She drew her knees up tight against her chest as a defensive reflex when she realized that there was someone else in the bathroom with her.
"Chase?" a voice called, and Chase nearly jumped when she heard someone call her name. She wanted to take a peek over the stall, but she was scared that she'd fall off the toilet. After she'd gotten over the shock, though, she realized that she knew who the voice belonged to. If she hadn't been so scared, she would've recognized it faster.
She held her breath, hoping that her brother would just go away. When Blake knew that she had no intention of answering him, he sighed. "Chase, I know you're in there. Don't make me pull you out."
When Chase heard that, she quickly dusted her hands on her skirt, and slid down off the toilet seat. She couldn't possibly hide in the tiny stall forever, anyway. It was better to come out now than to be dragged out by her ankles. Talk about weird.
"Blake, what are you doing here? I may be humiliated, but I'm not blind. This is the girl's bathroom." she said weakly, attempting to make light of the fact that she was standing before her brother with bits of paisley stuck to her backside.
"I know where I am." Blake rolled his eyes. "But I figured that since you were a girl, you'd be more likely to be hiding in here than in the guy's bathroom." He raised an eyebrow on purpose, "And it seems like I was right."
Chase managed a weak chuckle for both their sakes, but gave it up once she fully grasped the situation she was in.
"Oh, Blake. What am I going to do?" Chase moaned, looking at her ghastly reflection in the shiny mirror. Now that she was critically examining herself, it was even worse than it looked. She looked like she'd just taken a dip in the dumpster.
In the back, she could even swear she saw Blake wince, even though when he spoke, his voice was still hard.
"You're going to get all the junk off of you, go back to class for the rest of the day, and then go home and tell mom all about your perfect first day in school." Blake told her, leaning against the white sink to avoid looking the mush of green on her back. "Or you could tell her how horrible it was, and we could all get out of this shit hole." He amended almost hopefully.
Chase wrinkled up her face. Things back home weren't exactly appealing either. "It's okay. Let's think about Mom and her happiness, and just forget about all of this." She told him, splashing water onto her face, and then sopping it off with a paper towel.
"Yeah, but since when has Mom ever thought about any of our happiness?" Blake muttered in reply, ripping more paper towel out of the dispenser and handing it to Chase.
She took it gratefully and picked off pieces of food, throwing it into the grey trash can. When she was done, she took another look at herself. "That's a bit better." She said, doing a slow, three hundred and sixty degree spin to make sure that she got every last spot. The shirt was still definitely destroyed, but at least there weren't chunks of tuna all over it.
"You ready to go back out there?" Blake asked in a quietly, guarded tone.
It was times like these that made Chase fully appreciate Blake. She remembered back when they were little, when she'd always tagged along with all the other guys in Blake's group. They would always have a contest to see who could climb over the school fence the fastest. Chase, who'd always been the last one, was always left behind. Except, her brother always managed to come back and pull her over, even after everyone was long gone. It made her kind of sad to realize that now, even when she was older and could take care of herself, he was still here for her.
Aw, that's what brothers are for.
She cleared her throat, to keep it from blocking out her airways. "Think so." She didn't want to, but what she really didn't want was to spend the rest of the school year hiding in the stalls, and then having to go home and pretend like everything was okay.
"I'm okay now." she declared out loud, one part to convince Blake, and two parts to convince herself.
If I can get through this, I'll be able to conquer anything, she told herself sternly. Maybe in ten years, when she was famous, these people would come and beg to hang out with her. Besides, whoever heard of popular people becoming famous when they grew up. Just look at Michael Phelps—the same people who'd teased him were the ones trying to be his Facebook friends now.
"Okay, than, let's go," Blake told his sister, tugging her out of the door, wanting to get her out of the bathroom before she changed her mind. As much as he was concerned about Chase's welfare, he didn't want to stick around to find out who would be the next girl to find him in the wrong bathroom.
Chase quickly peeked out of the door, making sure that nobody was looking her way, then she quickly darted out, pulling Blake with her.
"Easy on the arm," he grumbled, once the two of them were lost in the crowd. Chase looked at where she'd been digging her nails into him. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been for someone to recognize her and to start throwing paper spit balls.
"Oh, sorry," Chase quickly released the fistfuls and smoothed her front, embarrassed. It was bad enough that he had to drag her out of hiding. She didn't want to depend on him any more than she had to.
"Here I am," she told him, when she saw that the door to her left was the one she'd been looking for. Chase had been so nervous in period one, that she'd memorized her schedule until she could recite it backwards. Just in case her little slip of paper got lost, she had told herself.
Blake frowned, pulling his schedule out of his back pocket. He looked at it, then looked at the room number again. His eyes narrowed. Was this the administration's idea of a joke? To put the two of them in the same Spanish class?
Oh, boy.
"Guess you're in my class then," Blake said, pulling the door open for the two of them. He didn't know which way of thinking was worse: his sister being as smart him, or him being as stupid as her. Either way, it was beyond humiliating to even think about. The principal could've at least given the two of them different teachers.
Now we can conjugate our verbs together for homework, he thought sarcastically. Joy.
He looked at his sister's barely-concealed smile. He could just imagine what she was going to tell their mom, "Hey, guess what? Blake and I are in the same Spanish class, even though he's a year older than me." In fact, if she hadn't just been humiliated herself, she'd probably be on the floor laughing by now.
Actually, Chase was glad that Blake was in her class. It meant that for another two hours, she wouldn't have to face the mob alone. Looking at his face though, she could tell he was probably planning to switch out of Spanish the minute it ended. And she was right; beside her, Blake was wondering if it was too late to go to the principal's office and demand to sue if he wasn't placed in a higher class.
Aw, no studying for Spanish finals together? Darn.
Chase fought against the group of girls, who were all surrounding someone that she couldn't see, and settled down in one of two empty seats next to each other. It was a good thing it was all the way in the back. Then, maybe teachers would stop getting her to go up to the front and share.
"There's someone staring at you," Blake tipped his head to the right, and told his sister in a low voice.
Her first instinct was to shrink away, and duck her head. But she decided that if someone had a problem with her, she wanted to know about it. This was now her school as much as anyone's. Chase raised her head, and stared right into the ice blue eyes of the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen.
Everything about her seemed delicate and fragile, from her big eyes to her skinny frame. Her lush mouth was parted slightly, and her long fingers were splayed over her apple cheeks. A wave of deep, rich ringlets cascaded down, draping over her shoulders like a sweater. Chase now realized that this was the girl that all the other girls had been surrounding. And it was no wonder. Everybody else seemed to be drawn to her beauty.
Chase hadn't realized that she'd been staring at her, until the girl suddenly did an incredible thing. She smiled tentatively, showing off her brilliantly white teeth, and then turned back to her friends again. One of the guys looked over to see what the girl had been staring at.
"Hey! Look what we have here." the guy called to his friends, "It's the girl in the lunchroom, the one with the huge tits!" Chase felt her face flame up. And for the second time that day, she could feel humiliation clawing it's way up again.
She hated whenever this topic was brought. Most of the time, if it was on the streets, she ignored it. But here, under the sudden scrutiny of dozens of curious eyes, the feeling was completely different. It was like being studied under the microscope by curious scientists. Except that scientists didn't whisper to their friends and giggle, like everyone in the room was doing now.
"Stay away from her," Blake suddenly hissed from beside Chase, standing up slowly, and circling around his desk.
The boy looked from Chase and then to Blake and then back again. "Who's this, your boyfriend?" He snickered, moving in closer towards Chase menacingly.
Blake slowly reached inside his jacket, and pulled his hands out again, his fists clenched together.
"What are you going to do? Fight me," the boy said, noticing Blake's hands. Then, for fun, he reached over, and slapped her butt to purposely entice Blake.
The moment he did that, even Chase knew it was a deadly mistake. The boy might think that he was being brave, and showing off for the girls, but he'd just made the worst decision possible: he'd underestimated her brother.
Chase could feel the boy's cockiness and arrogance. He thought he could win this, in a world where he'd always had bodyguards at his side. But Blake had grown up on the streets, all three of them had. From the moment they could, they'd learned how to steal for a living, and to fight back if anyone else wanted to pick a fight. Even Chase could easily win a grunge brawl with this boy if she wanted to. Which she didn't, not right here at least.
As for him, Blake didn't care. He'd been saving his energy up for something. All of the anger from the past days broke forward now, and boiled out of him. His fingers brushed against the switch he held in his palm, and the blade immediately sliced up so fast, he could still feel the trail of air it'd left behind.
"Let's do it," Blake told the boy, barring his teeth together, blade still clutched in his hand. The boy took one shocked, wide-eyed look and whimpered to himself, his eyes never leaving the sharp tip, all signs of bravado gone. He'd probably never even witnessed a street fight—knives and guns included—much less been a part of one.
Unfortunately for Blake, all would've gone well for him and he would've been able to get all the anger off his chest, if the teacher hadn't decided to walk through the door at that very moment. But she did, and the moment her eyes made it past the crowd, and onto the knife, she screamed.
"Put it down," she said, her voice shaking as she pushed her way into the middle of the two boys, "right now." The two looked at each other. Blake's eyes were filled with disgust, and the other with triumph.
"He was trying to knife me, Mrs. Schwartz," the boy accused, pointing his finger at Blake. Now that he knew he wasn't going to die a painful death, all his previous egotism was back.
"That's not true, Mrs. Schwartz. Trey's lying. He was the one who started it." Everybody looked as the beautiful girl spoke up, her voice like crystals, glaring at Trey in a way that made him cower back again.
"Nonetheless, this is unforgivable. You, give me the knife, and go to Principal Cracow's office." Mrs. Schwartz said, trembling so hard that pieces of her flabby skin were shaking. She was probably worried that since Blake hadn't had the chance to fight Trey, he'd settle for her.
Blake looked her bitingly, and then he dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the floor deafeningly. Then, he slowly walked past the rows of people, only pausing to stare into Trey's eyes. This isn't finished, Blake's eyes burned into Trey's. Then, he was gone, and the door clattered shut behind him.
Blake walked down the silent halls now, missing the weight of his knife against his side. He'd carried it around for many years, and he'd taken great comfort in the fact that it was always there when he needed it.
This is ridiculous, he said to himself, as he walked into the principal's office for the second time that day. This time, the secretary scowled even more fiercely at him. She stabbed a chubby finger at the principal's door, to show that Principal Cracow was expecting him.
When he walked into Principal Cracow's office, he noticed that the blinds were drawn this time, and the air conditioning was turned up even more. It was like Principal Cracow was trying to go into hibernation, or something.
"Mr. van Buren, Mrs. Schwartz has just called me to tell me of your unethical actions, and I have to say, I could not be more disappointed in you." Principal Cracow said, rounding on him the moment he stepped into the room.
"Yes, I'm very sorry. Won't happen again," he said automatically. It seemed to be the answer that adults expected. An apology and a false promise that they wouldn't have to deal with him again. At least not under the same circumstances.
"Unfortunately, sorry is not good enough." Principal Cracow told him, and Blake's head shot up. Was she already expelling him? Was something good in life finally going to happen to him? He could be seeing his friends again, twenty-four hours from now.
"Are you kicking me out?" Blake asked her buoyantly. He remembered all the things he could look forward to going back to: his friends, being on the school team again, being able to skip school when he wanted to...
"No, unfortunately, Mr. Lewallen has offered to fund a new art program, so it would be most unceremonious to expel you. However, as you have endangered the life of an innocent student—"
"He was hardly innocent." Blake argued back, remembering Trey purposely trying to start a fight by touching his sister's ass. He'd gotten what he asked for, so why was Blake the one being punished?
"As you have endangered the life of an innocent student," Principal Cracow said again in a louder voice, to remind Blake that he wasn't supposed to be talking when she was handing out the verdict. "you will be serving detention every day of the week, for an hour after school."
Blake's face turned to stone when he heard that. Nope, it seemed like life was still pretty freaking unfair to him. But he knew better to argue with her against the point. Unlike the three others guys in here this morning, he didn't have the power to sway the principal with promises of what his father would and would not do. As far as he was concerned, his father could be in Idaho right now, eating potatoes.
"Fine," he snapped, backing out of the room, and almost hitting the framed family portrait of the Cracows.
"Oh, and Mr. van Buren," the Principal Cracow said, "do offer my sincerest congratulations to your mother, and tell her that I look forward to going to her engagement party this Saturday."
At first he was confused. Engagement party? Then he remembered: the public announcing of his mom and Mark's upcoming wedding. Blake was tempted to tell her that her invitation was revoked, seeing as she didn't know half of what justice was supposed to be at this school. But, Mark Lewallen had probably given her an invitation to get them in, and Blake didn't want his sister to get thrown out, not when her day had already been shitty enough.
If only all sibling were that thoughtful about each other's welfare.
He nodded again, and stepped out of the arctic room. Now that he thought about it, the idea of having to go back to class amidst everyone's stares and whispers wasn't very appealing. He looked over at the student parking lot, an new idea running in his head. He looked until he quickly found the car he'd been searching for: the bright red one that'd been cutting everyone off this morning.
Blake jogged over, crouching to run his hands over the beautiful red color. If there was one thing that he wanted from Beverly Hills, it was a car. He'd never had one, even though he'd gone cruising in his friends' cars all the time back home.
A shadow fell over him, and he looked up.
"That's my car," the beautiful blonde from Spanish class told him, standing behind him, car keys flashing in the sunlight.
Blake quickly stood up again, towering over her by a head. "It's a nice car." He told her, clearing his throat, realizing how stupid he must've looked. If must've looked like he was trying to steal it, or something.
"Thanks," she smirked in reply, dangling her keys by her pinkie so that it looked like it was almost going to fall off. Blake eyed her and her hand. Here was the answer to life, right in front of him.
Wait, the keys or the girl?
She noticed his eyes on her car keys and smiled. "You want to drive her?" she nodded towards her Ferrarri.
Did he ever.
She reached out, so that her keychain grazed his palm, and almost put it in his hand, when she narrowed her eyes, and drew back. "On two conditions."
"Anything," he told her impatiently. Anything to get her to hand over the keys, that is.
"You have to take me, and we have to be back by three forty-five." she told him. Then, mistaking his pained face for unwillingness, she crossed her arms. "Or never mind. I'll just go by myself, then."
Blake quickly considered her. She was really quite a bombshell. And besides, it was her car anyway. Maybe she just wanted to make sure that he didn't run off with her precious Ferrarri, or something. Either way, it couldn't hurt to bring her along.
"Okay," he said, and she dropped her keys into his waiting palm. Finally.
He inserted it in, unlocked the car, and sat down, adjusting the seats so that it fit him. Blake turned the key in the engine, and the car purred to life, roaring out of school grounds, and away from all his troubles.
He quickly passed the signature palm trees, lined up on the side, and crossed lanes. "So, you know anywhere good?"
She thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. "Queens. I go there all the time with my friends, and we never get carded."
Blake chuckled in the driver's seat when he heard that. Well, well, well. Sounds like Barbie doll here wasn't quite as squeaky clean as she looked. This girl was seriously starting to grow on him.
"Okay, just tell me where to go," he told her, and she smiled at him. For a tiny moment, the two of them were linked as one.
Today, he'd forget all his troubles. Then tomorrow, he'd think of a way to get himself back to where he belonged. Just wait, Beverly Hills. Ready or not, Blake van Buren is going to kick up quite a storm before this is over.