This Tom dude (the fan of everything, you made me laugh!) is a friend of Prue's, they don't go out or anything. Thinking about it, he reminds me of this guy I know who goes to Berkeley, who is incidentally called Tom, although that was an accident…he regularly lifts up our skirts, pulls our tops down, tries to grope us, makes sexist comments and tries it on with us when we're drunk (yes, he does actually have a girlfriend too).

Littlemissbad, I don't know if I want the word Charmed in the title (I know it is right now, but I'm almost certiain that they won't be witches in this, even if Grams is and they don't know about it.)

Every Little Thing

What with cheer practice after school, I'm exhausted by the end of the day. I always forget how tiring school is, all the smiling and socializing, not to mention the work. For the third time that day I wish I wasn't taking four AP classes. I throw my bag and books into the back of the car with a sigh, and go to get in. I glance down and notice the flat on the front tire by the driver's seat.

"Oh crap!" I yell angrily to the empty parking lot, kicking the tire as if that might magically fix it. I crouch down by the tire and inspect it closely, trying to see what the cause is.

"You piece of fucking junk," I mutter furiously to the car, finally finding a piece of glass lodged in it. I know I have a jack and spare tire in the boot, but they're really more for show than anything. I haven't got the faintest idea how to use them properly, and I give a loud cry of frustration.

"Need a hand?" Someone says in a bemused voice next to me and I jump, hitting my head on the wing mirror as I straighten up.

"Fuck it!" I shout, really losing my temper now. I spin around to see who spoke and my eyes rest on the boy from homeroom.

"Oh, it's you," I say, then remembering I'm still in my cheerleader uniform, add in a sarcastic tone, "It figures."

He smirks. "Well if you're okay, then I guess I'll be going." He starts to walk away.

"No, wait!" I call after him. I might not want his help, but I probably need it. He stops and turns around with a smile.

"Thought so," he says, walking back and dropping his bag on the floor by my car so he can crouch down and look at it.

"There's a piece of glass," I say stupidly.

"Yeah, I can see that," he says, straightening up. "You got a spare?

"Yeah, in the back," I say and I walk slowly to the boot and retrieve the jack. He follows me and lifts the tire out for me.

I watch silently as he rolls up his sleeves and starts to jack up the car.

"I'm Andy, by the way," he says. I don't say anything.

"Haven't you got a name?" He asks, sounding amused, which is just about the most infuriating he could sound to me right now.

"Yeah, but it's none of your business," I snap.

"My my, we are irritable today," he remarks, still sounding amused.

"I wonder why."

"Hey, I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I'm sure you and your boyfriend are very nice really, I probably just took what he said the wrong way this morning."

"He is not my boyfriend!" I exclaim, sick of this assumption by everyone.

"Oh, I just assumed…"

"You assumed," I say in disgust, then add, "And you didn't take it the wrong way, he does hate you." Hate's a bit strong. But he probably deserves it.

"Oh. I was kinda hoping I did." He rolls the flat tire off, carrying it to the boot, and glances at me in my pale blue and white uniform with the white B emblazoned on my chest. I feel like it's standing for bitch right now.

"Bad luck," I mutter sarcastically, and then realize I'm not being fair, I'm being like the rest of them because he's assumed I'm one of them. "Sorry," I say, sitting down next to him as he kneels down again. "I'm just pissy about the flat."

"That's alright," he says cheerfully.

"So when did you move here?" I ask, trying to be friendly.

"We only moved in two weeks ago," he says, screwing the tire on tightly.

"So I guess you don't like the school much so far," I comment.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, beginning to lower the car again.

"After this morning…I don't know, it's not the nicest way to start your first day at a new school."

"Suppose not," he says, not sounding too bothered. "But there are some okay people."

"Do you play football?" I ask suddenly, and he looks at me.

"I used to. Why'd you ask?"

I shrug. "No reason," I say, not wanting to tell him that to some extent he reminds me of Tom.

"Were you on the team at your old school?"

"Uh huh," he says as the car reaches the ground.

"Maybe you could try out here," I suggest as I stand up, although I'm not sure why.

He laughs and stands up too.

"I don't think so. Not if your…friend's on the team. Don't think I'd be welcome, do you?"

"It's not like Tom gets to decide," I say, feeling suddenly angry that Tom should get to monopolize everything in the school.

"Still…" He shrugs, dismissing it. "Well it's been nice meeting you again," he says, offering me his hand, now greasy from my tire. I look down at it, and he does too, then laughs and wipes it on his jeans and extends a now much cleaner hand, which I take. I'm surprised to feel him send a shiver up my arm, and somewhat embarrassed too, but he doesn't appear to notice.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he says, letting go.

"Prudence!" Grams screeches from the sun room as soon as I shut the front door.

"Yeah?" I call, wanting to go up to my room and change, and maybe sleep before I get started on my homework.

"In here, now!"

I sigh and drop my stuff at the bottom of the stairs before heading to the sun room. Phoebe's sitting sulkily on the couch, back in her jeans from this morning.

"You're late," she snaps with a glare. Grams looks like one pissed witch.

"Sorry, I had a flat," I explain.

"Have you heard about your sister?" She demands, shooting Phoebe an appalled look.

"What about her?" I ask, although I have a pretty good idea.

"Don't be smart with me, young lady," Grams says icily.

"I wasn't-" I begin to protest, but she holds up a hand.

"How could you let her get detention on her first day of school?!"

"It wasn't my fault! I wasn't in her class! How was I suppose to stop her from saying that?"

"Why on earth did you let her leave this house in that…that belt of a skirt?!"

"I didn't! She was wearing what she's wearing now! She must have changed or something…" Grams doesn't seem to be listening, so I trail off.

"I'm very disappointed in both of you," she says, and I wonder why the hell I'm in trouble when I haven't done anything wrong. This day just gets lousier and lousier.

"Phoebe, you are grounded for two weeks," Grams says, and then looks at me. If she grounds me, I swear I'll flip… "Prue, I want you home every day right after school-" I open my mouth to say I have practice, but she continues "-or right after that ridiculous cheerleading you insist on doing, and I want your sister going with you every morning and afternoon. She can wait if you're staying late."

Grams hasn't explicitly said I'm grounded, but she might as well have. She just doesn't want me to blow a fuse.

"Are we done here?" I ask coldly. "I've got homework to do."

"We're done," Grams says, equally as cold. "But you'd better make sure she doesn't get into any more trouble, I'm warning you, Prudence."

I glower at Grams and flounce out of the room and up the stairs, snatching my bag on the way. Piper's sitting halfway down the stairs and she rises hurriedly when I pass her.

"What are you doing?" I snap, although I'm really more annoyed with Grams.

"Listening to you and Grams," she admits honestly. "I did try to tell her that it wasn't your fault, Prue, but she wouldn't listen."

I soften. "Thanks, Piper," I say. "How was your first day back?"

Piper makes a brave attempt at a smile. "Oh, it sucked," she says cheerfully.

Although I know Piper won't believe I had a crap day too, I mutter, "Join the club."

Every Little Thing is by Dishwalla if anyone's interested!