Chapter 8(Davis)

"How could you?" she asked and then ran out the door. How could I what? I could see from the pain glimmering in her green eyes that it was bad. I heard the door slam as she ran through the gym to get away from here. I bent down and picked up the crumpled sheet of paper. I unfolded it and scanned the words quickly. Cold rage washed through my entire body.

I held the note up and whirled on the other cheerleader, "Who did this?" No on answered. They all looked at me with confused eyes. I shook the note in the air, "Who?!"

Bevin stepped forward, "Brooke, calm down. We don't even know what that is."

"Bullshit," I snapped, "Someone who knew her did it; they got into her locker, which means they knew the combination. Which means for the blondes in the room, that it had to be one of you guys."

Theresa piped up, "No, look Brooke. Peyton's lock is broken, see?" She moved past me and chucked the lock with her knuckle. It clattered against the blue metal and I could see that it was in fact broken.

So it wasn't them? I crumpled the note again in my fist. Peyton. She needed me. I turned and ran out of the locker room and yelled over my shoulder, "Practice is canceled today!"

I banged through the double doors and crossed the gym with wide strides. Lucas was running around, doing sprints and he saw me. He crossed over to me and caught up with my fast pace.

"Brooke, what's going on? Peyton just ran through here a minute ago."

Still not stopping, I replied, "Yeah. Some sick person wrote her a stupid note about her mom. If you saw her run through why didn't you stop her? Didn't you notice something was wrong?"

Lucas held the gym doors open for me, as we passed into the bright sunlight outside of school. I could hear Whitey back in the gym, yelling for Lucas, "Get your ass back here, Scott!"

Lucas ignored him and turned to me, "Peyton won't talk to me anymore. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she wouldn't even acknowledge me. She won't answer my calls and at school she ignores me."

God, for someone who loved Peyton, this guy didn't have a clue how to handle her. She'd go into her little cocoon of sad music and dark art if you'd let her and she'd never come out. You had to get in there and drag her out, even if she grumbled the whole way.

We reached the parking lot just as Peyton was leaving it in her car.

"Peyton, wait!" I called after her, even though I knew odds were she had her music cranked up. Her tires squealed as she pulled into the street. I stopped walking, I was too late. Lucas just stood there with me.

"Brooke, you gotta talk to her."

I whirled on him, "You're supposed to take care of her! Don't you get that? You can't just leave Peyton to herself sometimes! She needs you!"

He didn't yell back, instead he gently said, "No, she needs you." His words were like a slap to my face. Peyton and Lucas were supposedly these great soul mates but she still needed me? If she was so in love with him, why would she cut him out?

"Luke, she hurt me…to get to you."

He shrugged, "Brooke, she made a mistake. God…you two don't understand, neither of you works without the other."

He was right. I'd felt it so much over the past few weeks. I'd missed her terribly. I tried to go on living but everything revolved around Peyton it seemed. If I heard a funny joke, my first instinct was to tell Peyton about it. If something bad happened to me, my first wish was to call my favorite Blondie and have her comfort me. We'd spent so long being each others families that it was hard to snap out of it. My mom and dad were eternally absent parents…so Peyton was my family. When we were little, if I wrecked my bike, it was Peyton who'd blow on the cut and put a band aid on it. It was Peyton who was there when I'd first learned to put on make-up. She would lecture me about the guys and the booze but then she'd be right there, cleaning up after my messes and telling me she loved me.

And it was me, who was able to find her down at the bridge after her mom died. Her dad had been frantic with worry but my nine year-old self had known just where to look. I'd found her there and taken her home to her room. We'd locked ourselves in there, climbed on the bed, and just held each other as we cried. After that I'd gone over everyday to make sure she was ok. I'd watched her back throughout our whole lives because she was Peyton and I was Brooke and we were family.

Tears sprang to my eyes as the truth of Lucas' words hit me. We didn't work without each other. Memories of Peyton and I flooded into my head. Peyton laughing at my horrible singing, me comforting her when it was all too much to take, Peyton taking care of me after some huge party, me telling Peyton I never wanted to see her again. I didn't mean it. How could I? It hit me like a shot to the gut; I had told Peyton I hated her. I didn't mean it. What if I couldn't take it back?

I turned to Lucas and he must have seen the panic, love, and pain in my eyes. He pulled me into a soft hug and I squeezed him back with all my strength. I had to get my P. Sawyer back.

I finally pulled away from Lucas' hug, aware that now students were filing out of the school, the last bell must have rung. I brushed tears from my wet eyes and asked him, "How bad is it?"

He turned his eyes downward, "I think she's on drugs and I know she's been drinking."

Shock coursed through me. My Peyton? On drugs? Oh my god, I drove her to it.

Lucas smiled softly at me and pulled me into another hug. I had to help her. Whatever it took. I didn't know if we could ever be friends like before even though now I knew I wanted that more than anything, but Peyton had to get help.

Suddenly I was ripped from Lucas' arms by a strong hand. I was thrown down on the concrete, smacking the back of my head against the hard surface. Everything got all fuzzy but I could make out two figures in front of me fighting.

I sat up and shook my head to clear it. I touched the back of my head and brought away two fingers wet and sticky with blood. Felix. He was on top of Lucas, punching him. I saw Lucas' face was already pouring blood and now he was holding up his arms, just trying to fend Felix off. With each punch Felix was grunting out a word, "Stay…Away…From…Brooke!"

I shot off the ground and pulled on Felix's back. "Stop, Felix, stop!"

He jerked his elbow back, catching the side of my face. Stars exploded in my vision and I ended up ass first on the concrete again. I decided to stay there this time. I heard Whitey blowing his whistle and I saw him and Mr. Turner dragging Lucas and Felix apart.

"Miss Davis, you hurt?" …. "Miss Davis?"

I managed to focus on the face in front of me. Whitey. Was I ok? I slowly nodded; feeling like my head was going to fall off when I moved it.

I felt hands helping me up and I leaned into them.

"Come on, Brooke. I'll give you a ride home." I turned and looked into the concerned face of Tutor Girl.

"Hey, Haley." I mumbled, slurring my words.

She helped me into my car and I handed her the keys. I looked out the window at the crazy scene I'd just been a part of. Felix and Lucas were still outside with teachers holding their arms. They were struggling to get apart and rip each other to shreds. Felix looked like a stranger. His usually handsome face was turned ugly with rage. As if he felt my gaze on him, he turned towards me. His eyes burned into mine. You're Mine he mouthed.