Disclaimer: Shakespeare owns some. Disney owns some. In my opinion, Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles own some. I only own the OCs.
Author's Note: Merry Almost Christmas! It's been nearly a year since I started this story, and I know I haven't gotten very far along yet, but it is moving! Thanks to all my reviewers and readers. A special note to Lion8520: I'm going to keep Pat's friend as Dave since I've already been calling him that (and I really dislike the name Scurvy) but thank you for pointing that out.
I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think!
In the end, Patrick skipped school the next day. The Alzheimer's Home needed till the end of the week to process the paperwork; a month was the usual wait, but after hearing the situation, an exception had been made. However, it was plain that Grandpa Russ could no longer be left alone, so Patrick had gotten his way and was able to miss Tuesday at Padua. Ashlee was still frustrated by this fact as she crept into Homeroom five minutes before the ending bell.
"Excuse me," said an unfamiliar woman from behind the desk where Mrs. Strickner usually sat.
Ashlee stopped and pulled out a late note that Patrick had written for her. She handed the folded piece of paper over and stepped back. Mrs. Strickner must have been feeling poorly. That was too bad. She was a dear old lady, and quite frankly, Ashlee wasn't warming to the crabby substitute.
"I suppose you find this funny, Ashlee." The woman spoke her name as if it tasted vile.
"I beg your pardon?" Panic flared in her mind. She hadn't bothered to read the note herself. They had used the note tactic before when they had been running late, but Mrs. Strickner had never called them on it.
The substitute cleared her throat and read the note in a sarcastic voice, 'Leave Ashlee the fuck alone. She's late because I'm a fucking idiot. Signed, Patrick.'"
Ashlee winced at the overly accentuated expletives. "I'm sorry, my brother's not always the most delicate." The moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized they sounded quite disingenuous.
"Principal's office, now. I insist you show her this note."
Taking the outstretched note from the substitute's hand, Ashlee headed for the office. Only five minutes into the day and she was in trouble. If she didn't be careful, she was going to turn into Patrick in no time.
Lunch was a traditional thing for Ashlee. Patrick and Dave usually disappeared so they could smoke, so she had taken to sitting at the end of the "outcast by choice" table – also known as The Shrew's Table. Of course, the cafeteria was segregated by clique, so sitting anywhere one didn't belong was asking to be trashcanned. People were especially terrified of breaking bread with either The Shrew or Patrick, the former because she'd drive you into insanity with her sharp words and the latter because he'd crack your skull for looking in his direction. Both of the rumors were untrue; Ashlee had been sitting at Kat Stratford's table almost since the beginning of the school year and no harm had come from that choice. The older girl and her skinny friend, Mandela, ignored her for the most part. Every now and then they'd ask for her input in a controversial debate they were having. It wasn't that they were scared by her reputation – or rather, her brother's reputation – but they were somewhat wary of it from what Ashlee could tell.
Today was nothing out of the ordinary. Kat and Mandela were discussing the upcoming Winter Prom which had been named, so originally, Blasting into the New Year.
"I'm just saying that it's a pointless high school ritual that I, for one, will certainly not be attending. We have to take a stand, Mandela!" The tall blond emphasized her statement by tearing in half the poster she had just ripped off a nearby wall.
"Would you go, Ashlee, if someone asked you?"
Ashlee set down her tuna sandwich and shrugged, "Well, ignoring the fact that no one will ask me, I have to honestly say, I don't know. Most of the guys here are –"
" – dicks," cut in Kat.
"I was going to say, most of the guys here are scared shitless of my brother."
Kat gave her an unimpressed look. "What's the deal with him, anyway? Why does he keep you all locked up? Are you secretly an alien or is it some sort of incest thing? Wait, are you guys in the Witness Protection Program?"
"He's just super protective," Ashlee laughed.
Mandela made a face, "He doesn't really seem the type, but okay."
"No," Kat announced, "sometimes the protective older sibling urge is uncontrollable, even when it's unwanted."
After that, the conversation drifted back into Kat and Mandela only land as Ashlee attempted to finish her poem for English class. Damn iambic pentameter.
"Can anyone give me the definition of an isotope?"
Ashlee kept her gaze determinedly at her desk. Unlike her brother, she had no interest in science and even the basic fundamentals of Chemistry insisted in eluding her no matter how many times Patrick explained them in simple terms. Luckily Mr. Swanson was a saint and he never called on her. It was Chastity Church who got the spotlight this time.
"Miss Church, can you tell the class what an isotope is, if you'd be so kind."
Chastity gave a surprised gasp at the sound of her name and set down her emery board. "An isotope? Uh," she stalled, bringing up one of her perfectly manicured nails to place on her chin. "An isotope is when a –"
Whatever definition Chastity was about to make up was interrupted by the wail of the fire alarm. Mr. Swanson looked beyond peeved. "Alright class, let's climb to our feet and follow the evacuation plan in an orderly manner this time. Take your things, and don't think you escaped, Miss Church, because you didn't. I expect a full explanation of isotopes when we return to class. Now let's move out."
Once in the hallway pandemonium broke loose. Ashlee found herself carried along by the overly excited crowd. Someone jostled her elbow; another person slammed their shoulder into the top of her head causing her to lose her balance. With a small squeak, Ashlee dropped her bag and fell to her knees, the palms of her hands smacking into the hard linoleum of the floor. Biting back tears as someone stepped on her fingers, she attempted to stay calm.
"Whoah, guys be careful," came an alarmed cry. People continued to mill around Ashlee as if she didn't exist, but suddenly there was someone by her side. He helped her to her feet, grabbing her book bad as well, and steered her towards the exit. Outside, the teachers were directing students to the safe zone and trying to keep order. Ashlee's knight guided her to bench and sat her down.
"Holy crap, it was like they were friggin' blind or something," he exploded. "In what kind of terrible place do people ignore downed fellow human beings?"
Ashlee looked up to see an unfamiliar face brimming with righteous outrage.
"Are you all right?!"
She couldn't help but smile, despite the fact that her breathing continued to skip beats. "I'm okay."
Her rescuer looked dubious.
"No really, it happens all the time," she said, waving off his skeptical expression. "I'm an absolute klutz. Thanks though for saving me." The boy was extremely cute. He was cute in both the charming little boy way and the attractive sensitive male way. He had to be new to Padua because she would have noticed before if he'd been around long. "I'm Ashlee," she offered.
He nodded, and in a slightly calmer tone, he said, "I'm Cameron."
"New here?"
"Yeah, it's my second day." He ran a hand through his hair as he set her book bag that he was still holding down with the other. "Is everyone here really that self-absorbed?"
Ashlee sighed. He was just too cute. "Pretty much. People get very excited around here, and nothing gets them more pumped than a fire drill."
He snorted. "That sucks."
They slipped into silence for a moment or two, both watching the crowds of students that were moving in every direction. Then, desperate to keep the conversation going, Ashlee asked, "So, what year are you?"
"Oh, I'm a senior. You?"
"Sophomore."
"So you're fifteen?"
"Sixteen, actually. You?"
"Seventeen."
"And how do you like Padua so far?"
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders in a slightly embarrassed way. "Ah, you know, I've seen a lot worse."
"Switch schools a lot?" It was so refreshing to have a normal conversation with someone. Hell, it was refreshing to have a conversation with someone outside her family. And Cameron was so sweet and obviously oblivious to that fact that she was Patrick Verona's sister.
"All the time. My dad's in the military so we move constantly. This is my ninth school in the last eleven years."
"Wow, it's only my fourth."
He smiled at her again and she realized he had the most adorable dimples. "Four, that's more than some people I've met. I can't imagine having attended the same school my entire life. Have you always lived in Washington?"
"Oh no, I spent last year in Wisconsin with my Grandpa."
"See, I've lived in twelve different states, my favorite being Hawaii when I was ten."
Ashlee crossed her arms and shook her head. "Jealous."
"I bet you are. I learned how to Hula." He observed her skepticism and laughed. "Oh, I see, you don't believe me! Here, I'll show you!" With that, he hopped up and started swaying his hips and waving his arms from side to side.
Ashlee could hardly contain her mirth. Cameron could dance quite well, but it was his attitude that was so funny. While he was joking around, he was also very serious about the dance. "Bravo," she told him, "You look just like a real life Hula dancer."
He stopped dancing and gave grinned. "Why thank you."He took a bow just as the All-is-Safe bell sounded. Teachers began waving orange flags in various directions, attempting to herd the sea of unruly students into lines by class. Cameron sighed, "It looks like the break is over. Back to Geometry. It was nice meeting – "
Ashlee's disappointment at Cameron having to leave only escalated when she saw what had caused him to trail off. Bianca Stratford. Of course the one decent guy at Padua would be infatuated with Bianca. Who wasn't? "You've fallen under her spell already."
Cameron's head snapped towards her with a half-guilty and half-defiant expression. "Who – what are you talking about?"
Ashlee lifted her eyebrows. "Bianca. Bianca Stratford."
"I don't know what you're – "
"— It's all right, almost every guy here is, or was once, enamored with her. She's a siren, luring men in to their great disappointment when they learn that she's not allowed to date."
Ashlee could almost see his skin prickle in Bianca's defense, "Bianca Stratford is not a siren! She's beautiful, but she's also gorgeous on the inside as well. Everyone keeps saying that she's spoiled, but I beg to differ." When Ashlee didn't say anything in response, Cameron continued. "Michael says
"Michael Eckmann, the Ivy Kid? Wow, you must be super smart if he was willing to hang out with you after the school tour."
Cameron shook his head. "He seemed pretty chill, though he did say some rude thing about Bianca."
"Oh, you poor lovesick puppy, Michael spent many a month pining over that girl before he grew into his jaded current self. It's what all the boys do; they love her until they hate her."
"So she really doesn't date?"
She shook her head. "No, she really doesn't date. The dad's a stickler from what I hear. Mom is out of the picture and Dad is way overprotective in compensation. It's a classic setting for a tragic love story, right? Wrong, Romeo! It will never work out, believe me."
"I just want to be able to talk to her, you know, just spend a little time with her. Do you think that's possible?" His pleading eyes were too much for her and Ashlee felt her cynicism begin to slip.
"It won't work."
"Please! I've heard she needs a French Tutor."
Ashlee felt a rise of hope. Cameron spoke French? God knew she needed help with that subject as well and unlike with Chemistry, her French actually stood a chance of improving. True, she could always ask Dave for help, but it would be so perfect if Cameron could tutor her. "Yes, she is. Do you speak French?" The words came out far too squeaky for Ashlee's taste, but Cameron didn't seem to notice.
"Well..."
"Because I'm in French with Bianca and I'm not doing so hot in the class either. Ms. Delacroix says I need to find a tutor as well. How much do you charge?"
"Actually, I don't speak French."
She couldn't help but stare at him. Shit, today sucked. "Really? Then why do you –"
"—Do you think you could pass my name along to her?"
"But she doesn't date, Cameron."
"No, my name as a French tutor."
"But you just said you don't speak French."
"But I will."
She regarded his pathetically clasped hands and rolled her eyes. "Don't you think she'll figure out that you don't speak French? She's not doing that poorly in the class!"
A teacher spotted two of them and waved at them to join the rest of the students that were slowly filing back into the building. Cameron picked up his backpack and offered Ashlee a hand up from the bench. "I just want to spend some time with her. Please tell her about me."
"Fine," Ashlee agreed, accepting his warm hand in her warm and letting him pull her to her feet, "I'll pass your name along, but I can't promise anything because I don't really know her that well and she doesn't take advice a lot."
Cameron surprised her by drawing her into an excited hug. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," he breathed. "Here let me give you my email address and cell number so you can give them to Bianca." He tore a prom poster off the table and scribbled down his information on the back. "Thank you again; you know you're awesome, right?" With that, he threw her one last wide smile and disappeared into the dwindling crowd. Too shocked to move, Ashlee remained where she was standing for a good thirty seconds before she headed in the direction of the rest of the students. As she reentered the building she made the quick decision to skip the rest of Chemistry and instead go take a nap in the nurse's office. She had a lot to think about before French class.
"Hey Bianca, I love your sweater."
Bianca turned, and to her credit she attempted to not look too surprised. After a few moment of staring at Ashlee she said, "I know, I just love it to death. I have one in lavender as well."
Ashlee forced a smile, "Oh lavender is a gorgeous color on you! By the way, are you still looking for a French tutor?"
"Oh my gosh, yes, though I don't know how it will help. This language will never get easier."
Chastity leaned over and gave Ashlee a withering look, "Do you have a reason for speaking to us? Because if not, then you need to go back to looking silently at your desk."
"Chastity," Bianca said, laughing slightly, though Ashlee couldn't tell if it was an amused or embarrassed giggle.
"It's just that I have a terrible time with this beast of a class but I just found this awesome tutor. He's great and he's looking for a few more tutorees. I thought I'd help him out and pass his information along – that is, if you're interested, Bianca."
"Yeah, sure. Who is it? It's not Frankie Schuler, is it? You know, Mr. I-Never-Wash-My-Hands-Or-Hair."
"No, it's not Frankie. His name is Cameron and he's pretty new here."
Chastity heaved a huge stage sigh and then yawned.
"How much French has he had," Bianca asked.
"Er, four years, I think. He's great! I might just pass this class!"
"Humph, well don't get your hopes up," Chastity cut in.
"Chastity," Bianca gave her friend a confused look, "Ashlee's just trying to help me out."
"Whatever."
"Here, let me give you his number." Ashlee flipped through her notebook till she found the scrap of paper with Cameron's writing on it. Copying over the information, she handed the second sheet to Bianca.
"Thanks," the younger Stratford said. Ms. Delacroix chose that moment to make her entrance and Ashlee turned back to her desk. That had gone better than she had expected, though Bianca and Chastity were now having a not-so-quiet conversation about her.
"Jesus, can you believe she just started talking to you like that," Chastity was saying.
"Just leave it alone, Chastity. She's kinda nice in a loser sorta way."
"Yeah, but what a lame thing to talk about – a stupid French tutor. Oo-la-la, so amateur."
Bianca straightened her chair which made a loud screeching noise as it moved. "She was just trying to help, Chastity. And I think I might even contact the guy. It's worth a shot."
"Okay, well you can leave off the weird stuff, Bianca. Take her side. This can be your good deed for the day."
Ashlee snorted lightly. Maybe it wasn't Bianca who was the problem. She just needed some new friends!
"Attention everyone, we have presentations on our families today. Remember, only French from this point on! I do not want to hear any English," Ms. Delacroix announced from the front of the classroom. Ashlee sat back and prepared herself for fifty minutes of torture.
Ashlee was debating exactly how well her suggestion to Bianca had gone as she walked through the somewhat crowded hallways on her way to the main exit. Someone bumped into her hard, causing her to drop her book for the second time that day. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" she called out after their disappearing frame. Yes, Patrick was certainly wearing off on her. As she scrambled to collect her textbooks she caught the sound of her name from around the corner.
"Yeah, Ashlee Something-or-Other. She's in French with Bianca." She recognized Cameron's voice.
"Wait, you met a girl?" said his friend, mostly likely the Michael kid. "Ashley What?"
"I didn't get her last name, but she's going to set me up with Bianca."
"Sure," his friend laughed, "Of course she's going to set you up with Bianca, but what's more important is which Ashley you met! This could be really good, Cameron! Was she tall and blonde?"
Ashlee was fairly sure that Cameron was speaking with Michael and she couldn't help but want to gag the boy. Eventually he would realize exactly which Ashlee she was and it was inevitable that he would warn Cameron about her.
"No, she had brown hair and she was normal height. She's a sophomore."
"Did she look like a cheerleader? Cause if she did, then that's Ashley Davidson."
"I don't think she was a cheerleader, but she could have been, I guess. She had curly brown hair and brown eyes and she had this bag that was covered in marker writing and she –"
"—oh shit, Cameron! You're lucky to be alive, man!
"What do you mean?"
Michael was having trouble forming words. "Do you have any idea who that girl is?"
"Not really. She was just really nice, that's all."
Ashlee felt herself smile. He thought she was nice at least.
"I thought you liked Bianca," Michael pointed out.
"I do," Cameron verified, "but what, I can't be friends with any other girls?"
"You do know that he's going to kill you when he finds out."
"Who?"
"Your 'nice' little friend, Ashlee, is Patrick Verona's baby sister. She's as strange as her brother and if you know what's best for you, you'd stay the hell away from them both!"
Ashlee bit her lip till she tasted blood. Why did it have to be this way? Why did everyone have to avoid her and Patrick? And why did Cameron, the one decent guy at Padua, have to be told the social rules so soon? Couldn't his ignorance have lasted a tad bit longer?
"Look Michael," Cameron said, "Ashlee's awesome. She said she was going to fix me up as Bianca's French tutor even though she knows I don't speak French! Yeah, her brother is probably psychotic, but she's normal enough. Other than you, she's the only person who has spoken to me of her own free will."
"And that's why I am so terrified for your life, my friend," Michael's reply came. "That's not normal behavior for a Verona! Seriously, she eats by The Shrew and her skinny sidekick and even they won't talk to her! Besides, if her brother sees you speaking to her, he'll feed you through a paper shredder and use you as salad topping."
Having heard enough, Ashlee stood up and turned back the way she had come. So much for making an actual friend at Padua; she should have known better than to get her hopes up.
Her brother was in the kitchen when she got home from school, Mum's floral patterned apron over his clothes and his hair tied back away from his face. He eyed her carefully, making sure she was all right, and then he asked, "How'd you get home?"
She rolled her eyes. "I took the city bus like I promised I would, Mr. Paranoid."
"Ashlee." There was a pleading quality to his voice.
"Pat," she mimicked, "I took the city bus – I'll admit that I didn't want to as I the walk is not that long and it's nice out today – but I took the damn bus. I knew you'd 'put me through a paper shredder and use me as salad dressing' if I didn't."
"What?"
"Oh, it's just a horror story I heard someone spreading today. Apparently you not only eat ducks, but you're a cannibal as well. You've moved up in the world. Congratulations."
He caught her mocking tone and stiff stance and he immediately set down the spatula he was holding. "Ash, is something wrong?"
"No," she said, a tinge of anger accompanying the obvious lie.
Patrick's eyes flashed with annoyance and concern. "Did something happen at school?"
Ashlee was staring at her brother. It wasn't really his fault; he did try to make things easier for her and he had far too much pressure for a boy of eighteen. Taking a deep breath, Ashlee forced herself to relax. "No, nothing happened. I'm tired, that's all."
"And that's why I don't want you walking home. Think of how tired you'd be. Besides, I don't believe that's the whole story. What happened?"
"What, I can't be cranky?!"
Patrick's gaze was burning into her and she knew she had to escape or she'd have another breakdown. "God, can't a girl be miserable when she's on her period? Jesus Christ, I know how uncomfortable the subject makes you so I was trying to avoid it! Now, if you'll be so kind as to hand me three Tylenol and a glass of water, I'll go take a nap."
The guilt of lying to her older brother was starting to give her a headache, but it was better than admitting that she was frustrated because his bad-boy reputation was hurting her chances at making friends. Pat would feel awful and then probably force some kids at school to hang out with her. Or he'd attach himself to her elbow again like he had the first several weeks back at Padua. All she really wanted to go back in time and jump Michael and leave him tied up in a broom cupboard somewhere before he had a chance to warn Cameron about her.
Stomping down the hall to her makeshift bedroom, Ashlee attempted to block out the events of her day. She'd kept her promise to Cameron. True, he'd probably never speak to her again now that he had the chance to properly pine after Bianca (that was, if she took Ashlee's suggestion to heart). It was a shame, Ashlee thought as she tossed her incomplete homework to the floor before curling up in her bed, he is so sweet and she will walk all over him. The last though that fluttered through her mind as sleep consumed her, was that this was her first crush since third grade and it was doomed from the start.