A/N: I understand the title of this chapter may be offensive to some people, but it's not meant to reinforce the usage of the word, but instead to undermine it. Hopefully you'll understand better if you read the chapter. (Note that I have taken a creative liberty here, because a term used in here wasn't widely known until this year, so it's chronologically inaccurate, but I'm changing history for this chapter – isn't that what AU is for – because it's an important point.)

Turning Tables

Back To School Slut

"I'm sorry! Amy, I'm so sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen, it was just a stupid mistake that I regret with my whole heart!" But his words were meant with only silence. Even in her lush brown eyes he couldn't read anything. Suddenly be became aware of a child screaming, the one from the stroller, then a splash alerted him to the fact that one of the two children playing at the fountain had knocked the other one inside and was running off, and the elderly couple were also now fighting. In an instant, he'd made it all go wrong. "Amy, say something to me…please!"

"I don't know what to say, Ben. What do you want me to say?"

"Do you hate me?"

Amy piled her hands into her lap. "I don't hate you."

"But you don't want to be my girlfriend anymore?"

"I didn't say that." She shook her head. "I don't know. This is big, Ben. Is she keeping it?" At his nod, Amy's eyes suddenly grew shiny. "You might be a father. That's – I – that's so far beyond my scope of reality, Ben. As much as I like you, and believe me, I like you a lot…I don't know if I – I don't know if I can." Amy shook her head, pushing the chicken wings away. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"I understand." Ben returned the chicken wings and the 7-Up bottle to the basket and resumed watching her. "I can't ask you to take on a motherly role at fifteen, just for me. I'm not."

"I know. And it's not that you made a mistake, but fatherhood. And…with Adrian. And Ricky." She spat out the latter's name. "I mean, what if you caught something from her? Ricky and Adrian – everyone knows about them-"

He shook his head furiously. "I didn't, I swear! I got tested and I'm clean, I can show you if you want!"

"No. No, if you say you tested clean, then I believe. But, still. I don't know if I can be a part of this. I – I need time."

Ben hugged himself, nodding in spite of the feelings exploding against his ribcage. "How much time?"

"I don't know."

He nodded. "Alright. I'll have my driver take you back home-"

"No," she shook her head. "I'll call someone." Amy rose from the bench. "I need to be alone, to think. But thank you for offering. I'll be fine though, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow."

Again, he responded with a stinging nod of acceptance and watched her walk away. Angrily, he flung his arm out, knocking the flute glasses of champagne off the bench. The bubbles fizzed as the liquid poured out, splashing and soaking into the cement until they were empty, save for a few methodical drips.

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Monday morning, Adrian walked slowly through the halls, taking hard, purposeful steps so that the clicks of her heels reverberated everywhere. She was prepared for the stunned silence, the bug eyed stared, the whispery chatter, and the pointed fingers. For on the front of her white shirt, painted in bold red nail polish, were the words: MOTHER SLUT.

She reached her locker without any particularly damning incident and opened it up to collect her books and drop in her lunch bag. As she was doing so, she felt a dainty hand on her shoulder and spun around. "What?"

"Adrian, I-" Grace's mouth fell open as if she was eating an invisible hot dog. Her eyes were glued to Adrian's chest.

"See something you like?" Adrian asked, enjoying the Christian's horror and shock.

"I – I –" Grace closed her eyes. "Why would you wear something like that? It's so – so-"

"Slutty?" Adrian supplied helpfully.

"Demeaning!"

"It's only demeaning when someone else is using the word to put you down, there's a difference."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Sure it does," Adrian replied. "Haven't you ever heard of language reclamation? I wrote a paper on it last year. There are words only certain groups of people can use, are there not? And people wonder why only those groups can use them, but outsiders can't, especially when the language involved has been used to historically demean said groups. Like slut has for women. And the reason is the power dynamics involved. By using the word ourselves, we're reclaiming something that has been used to hurt us: we're taking back that power and defusing it. Haven't you ever heard of Slut Walks?"

"I've heard of Slut Walks before," Grace nodded. "I never knew what they were. I still don't, really. But I thought they involved groups?"

"That's the idea: to get a whole group of women together to walk together and take back the word. It was originally inspired in response to comments by a police official that women shouldn't dress provocatively if they don't want to be raped and then the counter movement followed: 'Accentuating my shape is not an invite to rape.'"

"I…never thought of it that way before."

"Glad to have enlightened you then." Adrian pulled her backpack out and tossed it over her shoulder. "So, I guess you can call this my own little spin on the subject, my Solo Slut Walk if you will. I'm proud to be a slut. How about you, Grace?" She watched in delight as the younger girl turned red, highlighted by the bright yellow shirt she wore.

Grace pointed to the word MOTHER on Adrian's shirt. "Adrian," she said slowly, "when you were sick in the bathroom last week – and the week before that with Ricky – is it because, uh, because…"

"Spit it out, Blondie."

"Because you're…with child?"

"With child!" Adrian scoffed. "Call it what it is, Grace: pregnant! And yes. Yes!" Adrian took a step into the middle of the hallway and placed her fingers to her mouth, giving off a loud whistle that caught the whole crowd's attention. "I. Am. Pregnant. Everyone hear that? I'm pregnant! And I'm having the baby! Gossip and whisper about me all you want, because I know you will. But also know this: I'm not ashamed! Everyone wants to make everyone feel like lowlife pieces of shit, especially teenage mothers, but I refuse. My mother spent her teenage years as a mother, humiliated and ashamed, and I refuse to repeat history. I'm damn proud to be her daughter, because she went through hell and back to make my life possible. I may have hated her some times and maybe she hated me some days too, but that doesn't change how I ultimately feel. I'm a mother fucking teenager and I'm proud of it! Do with that what you will. I'm out."

At the opposite end of the hall, Ben had walked in, just in time to hear the last of Adrian's speech. The hairs on his neck crept up as Adrian slammed her locker shut and pounded up the stairs, out of sight. As soon as she was gone, the hallway exploded into the gasps and gossip. Ben crept along, listening intently to find out if people knew who the father was. He noticed many boys who looked wide eyed and pale and Ricky's name was brought up over and over, but thankfully, he didn't hear his own name mentioned.

"I cannot believe that just happened."

"She's got guts," Alice said, looking at her boyfriend.

"She's got more than that," Ben muttered, coming up behind them. "Did she mention me? Or Ricky?"

"Nope." Alice closed her locker. "But I guess it's official now: she's keeping the baby."

"Having it," Ben corrected. "There's a difference. She told me Saturday night. And I guess Ricky too."

Henry looked across the hall towards Amy's locker, but Amy wasn't there, nor were Lauren and Madison. "When're you gonna tell-"

"I already did. Yesterday."

"What?" Henry gawked.

"I thought you were still grounded!" Alice added.

"I am. Or was. I don't know, but my dad let me out of the house for that."

"How'd she take it?" Henry whispered, eyes expectantly large.

"Fine, at first. When she only thought I wasn't a virgin. But when I told her about Adrian and the baby – and the whole fatherhood debacle – she just sort of…got quiet; said she needed time."

Henry shook his head. "That's not a good sign, man."

"Definitely not," Alice agreed. "Especially since she's not at her usual place to have you walk her horn down to the band room this morning."

"At least she missed the whole spectacle."

"Spectacle?" Alice frowned. "I thought she had a good point. I'm actually, kind of…in awe."

"How can you say that? It's not the whole school's business. Maybe she doesn't mind people talking, but I don't!"

"She never even brought up your name," Alice pointed out. "I'm sure it'll come up eventually, but right now, she's taking all of this on by herself. Nobody even suspects you, Ben."

"Although there's plenty of talk about the drummer," Henry added with a nod.

As if on cue, Ricky showed up out of nowhere, looking rather imposing according to Ben. His face was bent into a way that suggested nobody should even attempt to argue with him and his eyes were set solely on Ben. "We need to talk. In private."

"I don't really have time right now-"

Ricky grabbed Ben by the arm and yanked him into the nearby restroom, where the stalls were empty, but one boy was smoking by the window and another was taking advantage of the urinal, where a photograph of George Bush had been set inside. Ricky smacked the wall, catching the attention of both boys. "Get out."

"Man, can't you see I'm busy?" the one at the urinal replied.

Ricky grabbed the kid, probably a Freshman, by the collar and pulled his shirt taut around his throat. "I said: get out!"

The boy's face had turned red by the time Ricky released his grasp and the boy sputtered and coughed as he zipped up his pants before running out the door. Meanwhile, the other boy who was smoking dropped his cigarette and dashed around Ben to avoid Ricky, getting the hell out.

Ricky strode across the bathroom and stepped on the cigarette, crushing the ashes into the floor. Then he turned with a dark face towards Ben. "I'm sure you saw Adrian's little speech in the hallway there?"

Ben nodded, still replaying Ricky's actions with the boy at the urinal. He felt his leg shaking behind his pants. "Yeah?"

Ricky scowled. "Adrian talked to me about everything already, on Saturday."

"Me too." He stared at the black smears of the ashes under the drummer's foot.

"Don't get attached to her," Ricky replied emotionlessly. "Whether or not you're the father, she's not yours. Besides, you already have Amy."

"Had."

"Excuse me?"

"I told her about Adrian and the baby."

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, if I hadn't, she would've found out today anyway!" Ben lowered his voice. "She needed to know. And now, I don't know what's going on with us. She wants time."

"I told you she was a cockblock," Ricky scoffed.

At that, Ben flew across the bathroom and rammed his fist into Ricky's face. "Shut up! She is not!"

Ricky touched his nose to his face and pulled it back, revealing blood smeared across his fingers. He grabbed Ben by his collar and held him up against the wall, then wiped his bloody fingers along Ben's cheek. The latter gasped and a moment later, Ricky landed a punch into Ben's eye.

Ben crumpled to the floor of the bathroom, sitting on the ashes of the cigarette and holding his eye, moaning. "Fuck you."

"What did you just say?"

Ben looked up, no regret in his eyes. "Fuck. You. Do I need to say it again? Fuck you! You can do whatever the hell you want to me, but it'll only prove my point. You're a bastard and I'm glad Amy turned your ass down, otherwise she might be the one everyone's talking about in the hallway right now!" He saw Ricky curl his fist again and closed his eyes – painfully – and prepared to be hit again. But it never came.

"Just stay away from Adrian."

"I have rights to you know!"

"If she wants you involved, she'll let you know."

"Yeah, and the same applies to you!" But Ben's words were only met with the slam of the bathroom door. Ben continued to sit there in silence until he heard the bell ring and then he pulled himself up and looked into the mirror. Everything around his eye had swollen up like an allergic reaction, Ricky's blood was vibrantly smeared across his face like tribal paint, and his eyeball looked like a demon's straight out of a horror movie all red with broken blood vessels.

Ben gripped the sides of the sink and imagined himself transforming with his rage into something that could beat Ricky into a bloody pulp, like The Hulk. He hated the drummer more than he'd ever hated anyone in his entire life. "He can't tell me what to do," he said, staring at his almost unrecognizable reflection. "I run my life. I run my life!"

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"This smells awful," Ben groaned, three hours after school. He was in his room, sprawled out on his bed with a raw steak over his eye.

"Contrary to what you see in the movies, there's actually no evidence that putting raw meat on a black eye helps it to heal any faster," Alice informed her friend from the foot of his bed. "In fact, it can actually cause infection if bacteria from the raw meat gets into any open lecerations."

"Oh, fantastic!" Ben answered with one-hundred percent sarcasm. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Like, when my dad brought in a new steak?"

"Your dad just allowed us to see you for the first time again today," Alice shrugged.

Henry nodded. "We didn't wanna piss him off."

"At my expense." Ben lugged the slab of dense meat off his face and tossed it onto a plate that was sitting on his pillow. Groaning, he peeled off the bed and wandered into the bathroom where he began to wash his face with cold water.

"I can't believe Ricky slugged you. You look like an alien."

"Thanks, Henry. That's just what I wanted to hear." Ben pulled out the peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. He soaked a couple with the liquid and began to dab them around his black eye. "At least I made his nose bleed. I've never hit anyone before."

"You're lucky he didn't make mincemeat of you."

Ben poked his head out of the bathroom, glaring. "Not funny. Not even cute."

Alice glanced at the steak on the plate. "No pun intended."

Henry snickered. "It was a little funny."

"So have you heard from Amy?"

"I didn't see her at school at all today, I guess she stayed home. I did see Madison and Lauren at lunch, though, but as soon as they caught me looking, they tore off in the other direction."

"Boy, she's gonna be in for a surprise when she sees you tomorrow."

"If she even shows up tomorrow."

"Did you talk to Adrian?" Alice asked.

"Nope." Ben tossed the wet cotton balls into the trash and proceeded to pull out a washcloth from the cabinet, wet it with cold water, and folded it onto his eye. "It's too bad I didn't break his nose. The worse that's going to come out of that is that maybe it might be swollen for a year days, whereas I'm going to be sporting this for who knows how long!"

"Shouldn't of punched him," Alice replied simply, without looking up from her laptop.

A tentative knock sounded at the door. "Ben?"

Ben sprang up from the bed and scampered over to the door, opening it slightly, so that only the good side of his face was visible. "Amy! What are you doing here?" He couldn't see his friends out of the corner of his black eye, but given how well he knew them, he figured they were exchanging nervous looks right about then.

"I came over as soon as I heard about your eye!" She attempted to lean in. "Can I come in?"

Ben deflated and opened the door, showing her the washcloth on his eye. "It doesn't look pretty."

Amy reached up slightly, her hands brushing his, and pulled back the washcloth to reveal the full extent of the damage. She winced. "Oh, Ben…"

Alice grabbed Henry's hand and yanked him up. "We should probably go."

"You don't have to do that," Amy objected.

"Yeah," Henry agreed. "We don't have to-"

Alice dug her nails into Henry's hand and forced a smile.

"Yeah, she's right!" Henry suddenly yelped. "We'll see you later, Ben. Nice seeing you again too, Amy."

"Bye, Amy."

Amy scuffed her heels together as Alice closed the door. "I'm sorry about your eye."

"It's not your fault." Ben sat down on the edge of the bed. "He was insulting you again, so I just slugged him."

"So then it is my fault?"

"You weren't the one who threw the punch."

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "But it was in my honor." She smiled shyly and sat down beside Ben, placing her hand on his. "Thanks, for that."

"I missed you at school today."

"I wasn't ready to see you." Amy closed her eyes. "But if I'd known everything I was going to miss, maybe I would've come." She chewed her lip. "Did Adrian really announce she was pregnant to the whole school in the hallway?"

"Yep."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Amy swung her legs back and forth. "So I've been thinking a lot about things. And…I do want to be there for you."

"You do?" he chirped.

"Yes, but I don't know about us yet. I'm still really torn on that. But I want to be your friend and I want to be there to support you and be a shoulder to cry on, so to speak. Is that okay with you?"

"Well, I obviously wish it was more than that, but…I'll take what I can get. I don't want you out of my life, especially not over this. That might just do me in."

Amy slid her hand around Ben's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're going to get through this, Ben Boykewich. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that."

"Your faith in me means so much, it makes me feel strong." Amy leaned her head on his shoulder and, despite the pain, Ben craned his neck to rest his head on top of hers.

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Adrian placed her hand on the heavy double door Tuesday morning, mentally and physically braced herself, and then stepped inside, ready for the next round of whispers and looks. To her shock, she realized that several girls up and down the hall were wearing t-shirts – mostly white, but some in other colors, like yellow or pink – word the words SLUT written or painted onto them.

"Morning, Adrian." Grace stopped in front of her and smiled her most dazzling smile, then she peeled off her sweat jacket to reveal that she was wearing a pastel pink t-shirt with the words PROUD TO BE A VIRGIN SLUT on the front in purple glitter ink.

"Did you do this?"

"I did send out a couple of text and e-mail chains, yes, but I think that your speech in the hallway yesterday was also a large part. You're right, Adrian, and I thought that it would be good to organize our own Slut Walk through the school. I thought it could incorporate a lot of things. Not just an anti-rape message, but it can show support for all kinds of different women: teen mothers and virgins and girls who are proud of their bodies and…everything. All of us."

Adrian blinked once, then twice. She was surprised that she actually felt like crying, not for shame or embarrassment, but because the gesture was so thoughtfully touching. She touched the corner of her eye with her fingertip. "I can't believe you did this," she squeaked.

Grace beamed as several more girls walked into the hallway, some carrying signs, some proudly showing off their SLUT shirts, and some doing both. "So would you do us the honor of leading Grant High in our first official Slut Walk?"

Adrian swallowed, feeling a tingling at the back of her throat. She nodded to keep the croak of a cry escaping. "Y – yeah. Yes." She stood up as straight as she could. Then, clearing her throat she announced, "I'm Adrian Lee, I'm pregnant, and I'm proud to be a Mother Slut."

Grace clapped her hands together in a round of applause, which was soon picked up by the other young women in the hallway. The cheerleader took position behind Adrian and announced, "My name's Grace Bowman and I'm proud to be a Virgin Slut!"

Adrian nodded and placed her hands together, joining the rest of her female peers in the hallway as they clapped for Grace. One by one, she watched as other young women professed their own version of their Slut Status and Adrian joined the applause for them as they slipped into the congregation behind her. When everyone in the hallway had spoken their peace, Adrian took a step forward. And another. The footsteps behind her sounded like thunder as she picked up pace, marching down the hallway, picking up and people as she went along.