Disclaimer: Shakespeare owns some. Disney owns some. In my opinion, Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles own some. But I only own the OCs.
Author's Note: I have no excuse for not updating. I've been busy, but who hasn't? Anyway, I have the entire story planned out, so I *will* finish it! I put the entire movie into storyboard format and found it makes no sense whatsoever, so I will be taking some liberties with the timeline! Also, I lied when I said the whole story would be from Ashlee's POV. To prove it, here's a chapter from Patrick's POV.
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Patrick sat on the front porch, glaring at his large combat boots. It had been a long weekend: Saturday filled with work, car repairs, and chauffeuring Ashlee around, Sunday spent at the furniture shop. Now, seven-ten, Monday morning, his mind was still ablaze with confusion and frustration. He had tried to act surprised when Ashlee brought up the fact, at the park, that he hadn't dated since Tina. Since Milwaukee. Since everything had come crashing down. He knew that his sister had been thinking on the subject for some time, and he could only hope that she didn't know how hard he tried not to do the same. The whole thing was a giant mess, true, but one aspect was very clear to him. He was not going to date anyone, for any reason, till everything was finished. Even then, he had a difficult time imagining himself in a relationship again. Sure, there were girls he thought were hot, girls who made him remember the innuendo filled banter he used to exchange with previous crushes and girlfriends. But he had a responsibility now that he didn't have then. That responsibility was more important to him than anything else in his entire life.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
Ashlee's voice cut into his definite decisions in the romantic department. "A penny?" he found himself asking over his shoulder, "Excuse me, my thoughts are worth far more than a penny."
"How about a dime then?" The screen door opened and his sister joined him on the porch step.
"Actually, my current going rate is $37.50. Per thought."
She laughed. "Sorry, I could barely afford the dime!"
Patrick glanced over, biting his lip. "The first thought is free though."
"And what's that?"
"We're going to be late for school," he said, shaking his keys in front of her face. Before he could react, she grabbed them and took off running for the Suburban. "Ashlee," he called after her, "You're not driving!"
The car roared to life.
Rolling his eyes, Patrick jogged over to the driver's door. "Ash, scoot your big butt over. I'm not letting my little sister drive me to school! That will send me back several badass points."
The old Chevy slowly started moving backwards out of the driveway. Patrick walked beside it, tapping the window obnoxiously. "We're only going to be more late now!"
The vehicle stopped moving. Pulling open the door, Patrick swung himself up into the vacated driver's seat. Ashlee was in the process of buckling herself on the passenger's side. She was also holding a semi-warm cup of coffee. "It was hot," he informed her as he finished backing out into the street.
"I know," she said as she went to take a sip.
He smiled. "So, I guess you really don't want to be late for school since you gave up the wheel."
"No," Ashlee answered, now grinning in return as she lifted her coffee cup, "but I've been told not to drink and drive."
And for the second time in two minutes, Patrick rolled his eyes.
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Pulling into his designated spot in the senior parking lot at Padua, Patrick couldn't help but clench his teeth. He hated this place. These people. Their ignorance.
"Pa-aat," sang his sister, knowingly, "you can't start the school day already pissed off!"
He looked over to where she sat chewing on her fingernails with her feet propped up on the dashboard. "What makes you think I'm already pissed off?" he tried half-heartedly.
"You're relaxed smile, Mr. Cheerful."
Patrick watched as she slid her tennis shoes clad feet down to the floor and opened her door. With a wave, she was off, speed walking towards the main entrance in an attempt to minimize her tardiness. He shook his head. There was no way he was going to run to make homeroom today. Not that it mattered: he'd just talk to Mr. Fox later during Calculus. Resting his head against the back of his seat, Patrick sighed. Another day of frightened glances in his direction. Another day of quiet, or not so quiet, whispering behind his back. Another day of idiotic bullshit all around him.
Tina? He couldn't get the thought out of his head. Girls. Dating. Impossible. Ashlee was normally so good at reading him, so good at understanding how he felt without needing him to explain. Why couldn't she get it? And then what the hell was with her ridiculous suggestion of her getting a job! What was she thinking? Wasn't it bad enough already? Didn't he feel guilty enough as it was? And just what did she plan on doing? Working at the coffee shop with him? At four in the morning, every morning? She was worried about him, he knew that. But that wasn't her job. She was supposed to be carefree and leave the worrying to him. Angrily, he dug a cigarette from his pocket, rolled down the window, and lit up. Stupid habit, he berated himself. He didn't miss the pain in her eyes every time she caught him smoking. He couldn't ignore the hurt that came with her requests for him to quit. Still, he needed the calming feel of nicotine in his lungs. He needed the strength the addiction gave him.
"Mr. Verona," a sharp voice cut into his thoughts.
Yanking his self-created image up around him like a shield, Patrick turned and gave Principal Meyers a blank look.
"Mr. Verona, may I ask why you are in your car and not in class?"
Taking another drag on his cigarette, Patrick raised his eyebrows, "All my homework's done so I didn't feel like spending homeroom listening to my fellow student body shitting around."
"Understandable, Mr. Verona, but may I ask why you are, once again, breaking school rules by smoking on campus?"
He met Principal Meyers' pointed stare with a half-lidded one of his one. "Cause Ashlee and I were running late."
At the mention of Ashlee's name, Principal Meyers face softened and she nodded. "Okay, Patrick, fair enough. But you know I have to ask you to put the cigarette out at least."
With a shrug, he complied, shoving a wad of gum into his mouth in its place.
"Patrick," the woman tried kindly, "Patrick, we're rooting for you. We want you to graduate and we want you to be happy. If there's anything more that we can do for you…" She trailed off, her eyes swimming with sympathy.
Patrick swallowed hard. He could feel the familiar anger rising as Principal Meyers stood expecting him to answer and spill his deepest pains and fears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took long breath to keep his temper at bay. "Thanks for the – concern, Principal," he managed to mutter.
"I'll be in my office if you ever need to talk, and Mr. Freeden is always available as well if you need an evaluation. And then there's always Ms. Perky."
Setting his jaw, Patrick refused to look at her.
"Don't miss your next class, Mr. Verona. And I would like to see you in my office at some point today."
He listened as her high-heeled footsteps moved away from the suburban. After several minutes of mindless chewing, Patrick finally spit out his gum and sat all the way up. Running his hands through his unruly curls, he forced himself to get a grip. He was Patrick Verona: Padua's resident badass with the killer sarcastic smile that made everyone melt and take a step back at the same time. There was no place for sullenness, moodiness, or depression. Grabbing his backpack from the back seat, Patrick opened his door and jumped down to the pavement. Here he went again.
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And here he went again, Patrick groaned inwardly. He'd managed to stay clear of Ms. Perky's all morning, through World History, Spanish, Psychology, and Calculus. Funnily enough, it had been his little bratwurst joke with Ms. Yuan the Lunch lady that had him heading into the den of terror. Judith, the front desk secretary looked up from her phone conversation and gave him a tight smile. Covering the mouthpiece, she whispered, "Perky's got a new kid in there right now, but knowing her they'll be done in a few moments. You can wait on the bench."
He flashed her his trademark grin, and headed for the door, ignoring the bench entirely. The shrill voice of Padua's not-so-helpful guidance counselor wafted out of the room beyond.
"Same little ass-wipe shit for brains everywhere!"
Oh god, he almost sympathized with the poor newbie in the office.
"Excuse me?" Patrick heard the new kid say in a bewildered voice, "Did you just say – am I in the right office?"
"Not anymore you're not. I've got deviants to see and a novel to finish. Now scoot!"
Patrick cringed. That's where he'd picked up the word. He was never going to tell Ashlee to 'scoot' over again!
"Scoot!"
"Okay…uh…uh…thanks…" the sound of bumping around came from the office, and Patrick decided it was time to make his entrance. As he moved into the doorway, Patrick was met by the sight of a very confused looking boy stumbling backwards and accidentally crashing into the wall. The two of them came face to face. Patrick put on his first impression stare, which worked. The new kid's eyes widened and he broke the gaze and hurried away.
"Patrick Verona," Ms. Perky crowed from behind her desk. "I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual."
"Only so we can have these moments together." Ashlee was right. He did egg her on. "Should I hit the lights?"
"Oh, very clever kangaroo boy." Oh, she was so clever herself. Him being from Australia. Kangaroo. It was hilarious. "It says here that you exposed yourself in the cafeteria?"
Sigh. Here went nothing. "I was joking with the lunch lady. It was a bratwurst."
"Bratwurst?" Oh god, was she eyeing his…she was. Oh god. "Aren't we the optimist?"
The woman never failed to amaze and disgust him. How on earth did she get the position of guidance counselor?
"Look, Verona, I know you and your family are going through some tough times. That doesn't excuse some of these misconducts in your behavior." Now she was going all counselor-ish? "The answer isn't in acting out, Mr. Verona. So next time, keep it in your pouch." Again, the Australia jokes were lame. "Now scoot!"
She was heading back for her laptop, Patrick realized in horror. Bratwurst. Himself. Somehow she was going to fit that into her story about his sex life. He left the office as quickly as he could.
"Hey Patrick," Judith, the secretary, asked as he returned to the main office, "Meyers said you should stop in and see her now."
He nodded and gave her a mock salute before turning and knocking on the door to the Principal's office.
"Come in."
Pushing the door open, Patrick stepped into the orderly – sane – room that he frequented quite often.
"Good afternoon, Patrick. How was your visit to Ms. Perky?"
He snorted as he took a seat. "For the millionth time, why is she our guidance counselor?"
"She has all the degrees and experience for the job, Patrick. I think you need to give her a break. It's not as if you actually like any of the faculty here. Or any of the students for that matter."
"One of these days, I'm going to tape record the kind of stuff that goes on in there and you're going to be shocked at some of the shit she says."
"I'm sure," Principal Meyers said with a sigh. "Look Patrick, I didn't bring you in here to keep harping on your…not-so-great choices. I want to speak with you about your possibilities and opportunities for the future."
"Okay." Why did they try to label it as something different? It all was the same.
"Patrick, you turn your homework in. You get good grades. Your attendance is usually all right. But the attitude you give your teachers and fellow students is awful. I understand the whole deal at home, however, as we are not at liberty to discuss any of your family affairs publicly, I have a hard time not punishing you for your rule breaking." Principal Meyers stopped in her kindly rant and rubbed her eyes with a manicured hand. Then, looking back up and catching Patrick's wary gaze, she sighed. "You're very smart, Patrick. You have the ability to go places! To go to college! You want to be a doctor, am I correct?"
He bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah. Dr. Verona. That's me."
"A fine career choice, and your grades are good enough to get you into just about any pre-med program in the country."
"I'm not interested in 'any pre-med program in the country,' Principal Meyers. I'm going to Seattle U."
"Alright, but work on the attitude, Patrick. Your teachers are trying to be sympathetic, but some of them are at the end of their patience. And not to mention, Ashlee must be tired of people avoiding her because of you."
"Keeps her out of harm's way at least," Patrick shrugged, trying to keep up his nonchalant act.
"She's nearly seventeen. Quit being the overly protective father and let her have some fun. And you should have some fun, too. You're still a kid as well, okay?"
He fixed her with a piercing glare. Somehow this woman managed to weasel her way past all of his defenses. Every damn time. Father? He wasn't acting like her father; their father was an asshole. "Is that all you wanted to say to me?"
"Well, you can tell your mother hello from me."
"Mmhmm." Standing up from the chair, he focused his will power on not gritting his teeth.
"And thanks for your time, Patrick. Let me write you a late pass. What class?"
"English Lit."
"Ah, Mr. Morgan," she said as she scribbled the details onto the sheet of paper. "Here you go."
Patrick raised his eyebrows as he accepted the note. "Gee thanks, Principal. I loved our little chat, by the way. See you soon."
His quick exit was accompanied by a long sigh of aggravation from the behind the desk.
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"Get back here!"
SLAM!
So much for improving his "attitude" like Principal Meyers had asked, Patrick thought as he registered Mr. Morgan's frustrated yell. There hadn't been any homework for English Lit anyway, just reading Hemingway, which he had done. Screw the discussion time. He didn't particularly feel like listening to Stratford and Donners go at it again. Besides, he was coming down with a killer headache and if he was going to make it through biology, he was going to need some quiet time and a cigarette.
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Brriiiiiinnngg
The final bell. Thank god. The headache was still there, and for once Woodshop was excruciating. Something about electric drills and hammers didn't mix well with a migraine.
"I'll bring my wood finish from home; I don't trust the shit they have here," Dave grumbled as the two of them left the classroom and began to navigate their way through the crowds.
Patrick forced a grin. "I think the school stocked up on that stuff back when they built the place. It's a wonder they haven't combusted yet. Say, that's something we haven't done yet – "
" – Whoah Pat," Ashlee yelped as the boys turned a corner and nearly knocked her to the floor. "I was just coming to find you. What are you guys up to?"
"Patrick wants to light the wood fixative from woodshop class on fire and blow up the school," Dave deadpanned.
Ashlee laughed and looked at her brother with a devious smile. "Really? I always knew you were a closeted pyro."
"I was thinking about setting them off in Perky's office," he said, wiggling his eyebrows evilly as they pushed past other swarming students to get out the main entrance.
"Oh, speaking of Ms. Perky, what's this about you…uh…'revealing' yourself at lunch, Pat?"
He growled at her delighted tone of voice. "Fallacy. I did no such thing. And where did you hear about it anyways?"
"Hon, it's all over school," Ashlee giggled, patting his arm in mock comfort. Then she rolled her eyes, "Besides, I have to sit next to Mia Cromwell in Statistics – apparently she was next to you in line and she saw the whole 'fallacy' and couldn't shut up about how big a – "
"—and I'm done with this conversation," Dave announced, refusing to look at either sibling.
Reaching over and taking Ashlee's backpack from her, Patrick nodded his agreement. "I think I am done talking about that, too."
Ashlee smirked as she watched him shoulder her bag. "I win."
"There you two go again. I'm out," Dave droned as they reached the parking lot, his face as impassive as ever.
Patrick flashed him a smile. "Alright, man. Don't forget that wood finish."
"I won't. Don't the forget the matches."
Coughing to hide her amusement, Ashlee ducked around the side of the green Chevy and banged on the locked passenger door. Unlocking the driver's side, Patrick climbed inside and reached over to help his sister in. She grinned and immediately propped her feet up on the seat underneath her. Together they waved at Dave's retreating form.
"How was your day," Ashlee asked as they slowly drove through the parking lot.
Patrick barely heard her, his attention drawn by a large crowd gathering at the crest of the hill overlooking the football field. Some idiot must have done something incredibly stupid over in that direction.
"Pat, I asked how was your day?"
Turning his attention back to his driving and his sister, Patrick pulled onto the main road. "It was fine. Do you have any Tylenol on you by chance?"
"Did you make anyone cry today?" Ashlee's brown eyes twinkled as she handed him three Tylenol.
He swallowed them dry. "Not yet, but I scared the shit out of the new kid."
"Congratulations, Pat. That is quite an accomplishment. It wouldn't have to do with your trips to both Meyer's and Perky's offices today, would it?"
"Who told you about those?"
"Principal Meyers."
"Wait…when did you see her?"
"When I had to pay her a visit today."
The old Chevy swerved as Patrick swore. Ashlee held onto her door handle and waited till he seemed more in control. "Pat, she just wanted to see how I was doing."
"So she called you to her office during a class?" He felt her eyes boring into the side of his face. "What?"
"She's worried about you, Pat. She thinks you're depressed and unhappy."
"Ash," Patrick groaned, "can we not talk about me, for one second?"
"No! Can we not talk about me for one second?! God, Pat, do you know how tired I am that this entire family revolves around me?! I just want you to be happy!"
Guilt coursed through him as she began to cry. She wasn't supposed to cry. He made other people cry, not her. "Ashlee, I'm sorry. It's alright, I am happy! How could I not be? I've got you, and Mum, and Grandpa. It's going to be okay."
She continued to sniffle, her face pressed against her window. Patrick waited, unsure of what to do next. "I love you, Ash," he said quietly. When she didn't reply, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for a long drive home.
Twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds of silence later, he turned the short suburban onto their street. Ashlee still had her face pressed against the window, refusing to look at him. Suddenly, she sat up in surprise, "Why is Mum home?
Patrick's eyes darted to the small two-tone T-bird that rested in the usually empty spot in the driveway. Pulling in beside it, he cut the engine and ran for the house. He heard Ashlee trying to keep up behind him as he threw open the front door. "Mum?"
Lorraine Parker sat on the beat up living room sofa, her head in her hands. At the sound of her son's noisy entrance, she glanced up wearily to meet his questioning gaze. "Ms. Forrest called, Pat," she began as Ashlee's head appeared by her brother's shoulder. "Grandpa got out and was wandering around the neighborhood."
"What?" Ashlee pushed her way past Patrick, ducking to fit under his arm. "Is Grandpa okay?"
Lorraine nodded. "She brought him back here, but she didn't want to leave him alone because of the broken glass."
As she said the words, Patrick became aware of the numerous shards of glass that lay around the kitchen and living room. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, moving quickly over to sit next to his mother and sister. "Mum, what happened?"
"He broke all the dishes, and he got out by himself. I was hoping this wouldn't happen. I was hoping it wouldn't get this bad," Lorraine breathed in a torrent of words as she absently patted Ashlee's arm repeatedly.
Patrick frowned. Grandpa Russ had been steadily growing more and more mentally unstable. Deep down, everyone had known it was only a matter of time before he'd be unsafe to leave alone. "So, how are we going to deal with this?" he ventured, running through the short list of options in his head.
No one wanted to answer. Finally Ashlee stood up. "Come on, Pat," she said quietly, "Let's get this place cleaned up." He watched as she headed for the small closet off the hall where they kept the broom and dustpan. Together, the two of them swept up all the broken glass, stopping every now and then to lament over the loss of a prized dish.
"Remember this one, Pat?" Ashlee held up a large shard of turquoise glass that had once been a plate. "I made it for you in art camp back in Sydney! I painted your hair yellow instead of brown and I spelled your name with the 'a' backwards."
He nodded. "Yep, and I got in trouble for pointing that out to you."
Dinner was a solemn affair. Grandpa Russ refused to come to the table, and the three remaining members of the family sat around the small table in silence. Patrick watched as Lorraine pushed and stirred her vegetables around in mindless circles. Ashlee was no better; her utensils lay untouched next to her plate. He only managed a few bites of the leftover meatloaf himself.
"Well, we all know there is no way to avoid unpleasant things. We have to talk about it because the problem won't just disappear." Ashlee's words startled Lorraine into dropping her fork.
Patrick was silent for a moment. They didn't have many options, but it was going to be a painful decision. "It's simple really," he said, "I'll stay home."
"Absolutely not!" Lorraine found her voice and glared at her only son.
It wasn't the first time he had suggested leaving school, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. His mum never would allow it though.
"I'll get a job so Mum can be home more."
Both mother and brother turned to look at Ashlee, who had crossed her arms over her chest. "Absolutely not, young lady," they exclaimed in one voice.
Ashlee wasn't to be deterred. "Then I'll stay home. It's not like I have a chance at college."
"Absolutely not!" they repeated.
"Can you two say anything other than that?"
"Absolutely not!"
She made a huge show of rolling her eyes. "Funny," she muttered, pushing her chair away from the table.
"Ash," Patrick began. He knew better than to push her too far, and she'd already shown herself to be in a more fragile state today. "Ash, you know why you can't do that."
"Really? Do I? Why don't you refresh my memory."
He watched as she stalked from the room. As he rose to follow her, Lorraine placed a hand on his arm. "Let me handle this one, Patrick. She's not upset at you, just at the situation."
"We all are."
She swallowed hard. "Her, more than us, remember."
He finished his dinner alone.
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The next few hours were spent making sure the last of the glass was up and completing his calculus homework. His mother must have found something to do after her talk with Ashlee. Finally she reappeared, and Patrick only gave her enough time to sit down before he started speaking. "Mum, I'm dropping out of school. Grandpa shouldn't have to spend his last months in an impersonal institution. He should be with family."
"You are not leaving school, young man. Besides, I've already made the phone call."
"I'm eighteen, Mum. It's my choice."
"Patrick, you have to get your diploma. You have to think of your future."
"It's a little hard to do that right now while I'm trying to live in the present as long as it lasts. Besides, sending him to an Alzheimer's home is going to severely restrict our budget – ah-ah," he held up his hands to stop her certain contradiction, "I know you hate it when I talk money, but it has to be done – and you can't possible work any more hours than you are already working. Come to think of it, the hours you work right now are ridiculous beyond all measure."
Lorraine shook her head. "No, son. I'm fine, and we'll manage. Don't think that I like ditching my father in an institution any more than you do, but it's the only feasible option. You are not quitting school. I will not allow it, nor will your sister."
His mum sighed, lowering her head into her hands. Seating himself beside her on the sofa, Patrick wrapped his arms around her slumped shoulders. "It's going to work out, Mum. I know it will."
"I'm so scared, Patrick. I don't want to loose someone else. It's already so hard; I just can't…" she trailed off into soft whimpers.
"Shhh, Mum. I'll stay in school, and we'll put Grandpa in the Home. We'll visit him all the time, and I'll get more hours at Starbucks -- and I can even take up some odd jobs on the side -- to keep finances easier. It'll be okay."
Lorraine lifted her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "You know, Patrick, I spent my whole childhood dreaming of what my adult life was going to be like. I never imagined it would play out like this. If only Jack…" she sniffed loudly and rested her head back on Patrick's arm.
He flinched at her words, then offered, "Let me make you some tea, Mum." At his mother's nod, he rose and slipped into the kitchen. Pulling a portable coffee thermos from the near-empty dish cupboard, Patrick proceeded to smash the contents of the tea bag into even smaller pieces with a spoon. Damn Jack Verona. The man was responsible for so much of the family's pain, and he didn't deserve the love Lorraine still had for him. It had been eight years since Jack had walked out on the three of them, eight years since Patrick had inherited the job as Man of the House.
Still fuming, Patrick set the kettle on the stovetop to heat, and then tiptoed down the narrow hallway to check on Grandpa Russ and Ashlee. His grandfather was snoring loudly from the bottom bunk in the "Boys'" Room, the lights still blazing and the curtains wide open. Patrick quickly closed the blinds and flipped the light switches before he left. Pushing open the door to Ashlee small makeshift bedroom, Patrick sighed. The flickering light from his sister's Sleeping Beauty nightlight illuminated the disgusting vomit green color of the walls. He'd been meaning to paint the walls of the room a more cheery color for months, but he never seemed to have the time. Ashlee was sound asleep, curled into a sideways ball, her hair spilling around her like a lion's mane. She looked older, her worries not lifted during slumber. After depositing a light kiss on his sister's forehead, Patrick left the room.
Back in the living room, he found Lorraine passed out on the couch. With a sigh, he removed her glasses and gently placed a pillow under her neck. Grabbing an extra blanket on his way back from turning off the teakettle, he draped it over her exhausted form. It was a ritual that happened far too often, in his opinion. His mother needed more time to rest. He needed more time to work. Grandpa Russ just needed more time. And Ashlee – Ashlee needed more time to be a kid. Fighting back the lump that was growing in his throat, Patrick went to finish his paper for World History. Tomorrow would be another day.
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Author's Note: What's the verdict? Good or bad? All comments or criticisms are welcome!
-- pj