Chapter 8: Teen Spirit (Part 1)
Date: Wednesday, October 20
Time: 5:45 a.m.
Place: the DiVagleo Residence
Fucking nightmares.
Those heart-hammering ones that start to lose coherence even as you're waking up from them, but that still manage to leave their moldering fingerprints all across your day. The thought burrowed into Adagio's heart as darkness turned to light. It coiled in his guts as he wedged himself back between the covers, clawing desperately at the Egyptian fabric.
The events from last night flowed in just as easily as water flowed from the Nile. Sitting up from his position, the fabric of his black night robe came into contact with the customized bed headboard. Throwing his head back in an effort to calm his nerves, his skull clunked against the hard wood, as he shut his catty eyes from the sunlight streaming in from the slightly cracked blinds of a far away window. Play rehearsal had no doubt run late last night. It wasn't until ten o'clock that he was able to situate himself into the clutches of the DiVagleo's enveloping living room couch. Thankfully, Marco and Melissa were already fast asleep by then. He hadn't even attempted at finishing his AP Composition essay, no doubt due second period the next morning. But, with Mr. Marcy in charge of the class as a maternity leave replacement, he was sure he could snake his way out of this one for at least a one-week extension.
Adagio pressed the back of his hand to a layer of sweat that had ripened on his neck over night, wiping away at the perspiration. He could hear a pair of feet, shuffling across the house and to the elevator. No doubt Florence going to start on breakfast. Adagio sighed, reaching over to disable the six o'clock alarm set on his digital clock. He slowly unchain himself from the warmth of his bed, wrapping his robe more tightly around his frame. He trudged lethargically to the master bathroom located not too far away from his parents' room. As soon as the lights clicked on, he was immediately met with a distorted image of himself, at least what he thought he looked like. His reaction was comedic in the sense that he was taken aback by this 'stranger' reflection. His hair was out of its usual short ponytail and now was a tousled, disfigured tornado. Crust made up of mucus, skin cells, oils and dust collected in the corners of his eye, and Adagio could just about recognize the residue from his eyeliner stuck to both his lids. He ran his tongue over his slightly chapped bottom lip and piercing. It was only until he felt the lukewarm drops of water, pounding lightly against his head after a quick soap up, did he finally get to breathe. The muscles in his back relaxed into a state of comfort. A small smirk settled upon his features, and in the last few steps of washing himself off, he let his voice come through. Canada's favorite way to blow off steam: singing obnoxiously loud in the shower, no matter who could hear.
Shutting the water off, and wrapping a towel around his waist, he went back to the mirror that once showed him in monstrosity. Now, he had a certain glow about him. Not much, but certainly progress compared to before. He scrubbed down his teeth shortly before letting his mouthwash take over with the burning sensation of the gums. His outfit for the day laid, folded neatly on the shelf installed into the wall. Adagio dried his hands with a disposable napkin, tossing it quickly into the empty trashcan. A typical ensemble of a white T-shirt under a brown vest with silver buttons. Below the torso, a pair of faded jeans. Not too obscene as to upset school dress code. At least principal McLean was gracious enough to allow his great amount of jewelry, the exception being gym class. He touches the area around his eyes, making a mental note that he should soon tattoo himself with henna. After pulling on a pair of fresh white socks, Adagio traveled back to his room, this time picking his feet up and off from the ground with each accelerating step. When he hears a tired grumble coming from his parents' room, he locks the door and flops himself down on his bed again, this time, pulling the script for "The Lost Boy", out from his book bag. He turns to page thirty-two and begins to read where he last left off. His character, James M. Barrie is an adult in the scene, and he goes back home to Scotland to visit his dear old mother. Adagio reads.
BARRIE. I stopped at the cemetery. And visited Davey.
MOTHER. (She puts down the sewing, and slowly rises up.) I suppose ye'll be wanting some tea and something to eat. I run a restaurant when the famous author comes to visit.
BARRIE. Don't bother, mother.
MOTHER. (With concern:) Well, have ye eaten?
BARRIE. No.
MOTHER. Then I'd better bother, hadn't I? (She moves to the kitchen.)
BARRIE. I'll do that.
He puts down the book for a split second, as a bone-chilling breeze entered in through the balcony doors. Adagio wraps a blanket over himself before continuing on in the script.
MOTHER. No! I'll do it! It's safer this way. And cleaner. You'll do it, indeed. (She gets a dish and spoon. There is a slowness to her efforts.) How's your brother? Did he talk to ye?
BARRIE. Mother, Davey's dead.
MOTHER. (Not angry.) Ye think I've gone daft? Ye think I don't know it? I know it. Every waking hour I know it. D'ye know what that is to a mother?
BARRIE. I suppose I don't.
Adagio lingers on the line, engraving it into his memory.
MOTHER. (Laughing ironically:) Ye SUPPOSE ye don't, eh? The great author SUPPOSES he don't. (She stares at him.) Ye send me money, ye send a few gifts, furniture; things I don't want and things I don't need. Ye visit every few years because ye thing ye have to.
BARRIE. (Pause.) I don't feel like I have to visit you Mother. Sometimes I simply miss you. (A smile passes across her face for a second. She then shrugs it away.)
BARRIE. I made a discovery visiting Davey. For you—for us, I mean, Davey will always be thirteen years old. He'll always be as we remember him. He'll – never grow up.
MOTHER. (Seriously:) He'll always be my little boy! D'ye get that, James? D'ye understand?
He shifts uncomfortably in the bed sheets, opting for a more horizontal style of resting. Instead of in front of him, Adagio holds the book over his head and reads from there.
BARRIE. And you resent me for it.
MOTHER. Oh ye're a stupid little man, for all your great successes. The hurt I have has no anger, no resentment. Well, none for ye. Not anymore. (Pause; watches him.) Nae. You're not my favorite. Ye never were. Not after Davey died and God knows, not before. I'm sorry. I've tried. I can't. (BARRIE stares into tea cup.) HE DIDN'T HAVE TO DIE! It didn't have to happen. It broke my heart and it broke me. (She grasps his hand with such force, that it can not be mistaken for affection—or for hate.) That boy was five of you. Five, six, seven. (She pats his hand now; softer.) But of James, you could have done something.
Adagio grips the pages, as if he were to let go, they would evaporate into nothingness.
BARRIE. Mama. I'm trying now.
MOTHER. IT'S NOT ENOUGH! Nothing is enough. Not till I'm resting next to that child, not until I'm in my grave next to him. Nothing you could do will ever be enough. (She tries to soften.) Why d'ye make me say these things to ye? Why d'ye force me to hurt ye? Like tonight. Ye hadn't taken off yer coat yet, and what did ye do? Ye tell me ye went to visit Davey. Couldn't ye lie? Couldn't ye say ye went to the pub? (BARRIE reacts.) Try to understand son. I live here by myself and sometimes, sometimes I don't even think of him. I get out of bed, I go to church, I do my shopping, I eat and I sleep and I exist. But the minute you walk in here, ye pick and ye scratch at scabs that I thought had healed long ago. And lo, the wounds bleed afresh! Why d'ye do it? Why d'ye do it to me? And why d'ye do it to yourself-
An abrupt knocking at the door snaps him out of the world that had entranced him enough to not even notice the heavy set footsteps approaching the room. He shakes his head roughly and frantically, shoving the script back into his book bag and slinging it over his shoulders before going to open the door at the second knock.
A stern and gruff face as his visitor, and Adagio could tell that he was well overdue for a shave. He cursed himself mentally, knowing that he must of looked like a deer in headlights.
"Adagio, Florence prepared breakfast," he started.
Adagio blinked before delivering a proper answer. He cast his gaze downwards. He looked in submission to the man. Any bystander would most definitely understand that perceived relationship from the way that the two were positioned against each other. But Adagio's voice came out high and mighty contrary to his body language.
"I know," was his two-syllable response.
Marco shied back from his son, stuffing his hands deep into his pocket.
"I just thought I should come to get you. The eggs are getting cold and,"
The man stopped suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows together and focusing on a drying tear located on his son's left cheek. He brings his face closer to him, and his thumb up to his cheek to wipe it away.
"Adagio, were you crying?"
There's nothing the sixteen year old wants more, than to slap his father's hand away after feeling his touch. But, resisting the urge, he turns his head away sharply to stare at the cream colored plastered walls, thus causing the man to withdraw his hand.
He shakes his head, beginning to walk past him and to the elevator.
"I'm heading off to school. I can grab something to eat on my way there."
He sounds assertive, but his stomach secretly churns at the thought of food.
Just as the doors open, and the down arrow lights up over his head, Marco is already behind him, entering with his son. The doors close, and the shaft begins to take the two to the bottom floor.
"You know, Adagio, I can tell you're still upset about what had to happen this week. But, I assure you; this is for your own good. Your mother and I agreed that we wouldn't want to put you through that pain."
He waits for a reaction from his son, but silence only follows. All that was needed to complete the awkward moment was elating, cheesy elevator music and the scene would be sitcom worthy. Mr. DiVagleo continued.
"Mr. McLean was very understanding when we went to talk to him. No one is going to be upset with you about withdrawing yourself from-"
"I didn't withdraw myself. You did." Adagio corrected.
The man cleared his throat, but didn't find it in his embodiment to give some sort of failing attempt at uplifting his son's spirits. Instead, he watched silently when he threw his ankle boots on at the door and left the home in a hurry.
Time: 5:48 a.m.
Place: the Greyson Residence
Unfortunately, Adagio wasn't the only one waking up from a terrible dream. Across town, in the safe to say, lesser-recognized but more inhabited section of Aspen, a teenage boy rolled off of the cradle berth that he called his bed; a slim futon couch. His head collided with the hard wood floor as a tired groan escaped his lips. He inhaled, a fresh carpet smell shooting him in the nostrils. Eli pushed himself up from off the floor and stood into an erect position. He ran a tan hand through his light brown quiff.
He pulled a drab cell phone from on top of the kitchen counter, squinting when the bright screen illuminated against the darkness of the room. The first thing that caught his attention; the time displayed in large block letters: 5:50. Placing his phone back down onto the counter, Eli traveled over to the futon, where his clothes were laid out neatly over the cushion tops. Grasping for a crisp white T-shirt, he throws it over his head and pulls it down onto his shirtless body. Only as he's pulling on his jeans does he remember that his little sister, Emma, specifically requested for a cinnamon pop tart this morning, as oppose to her usual strawberry flavor. It was certainly something out of the blue, but what could he say? The kid liked to mix it up every now and then.
Eli yawned like a black bear coming out of hibernation as he rubbed his reddened eyes. Last night wasn't too kind to him. After a late night shift at Alan's Autoshop, he had to stay up late to put the finishing touches on Mr. Marcy's analytical essay. For a first year maternity leave teacher, he was certainly committed to making the students' lives their own versions of hell. This fact, easily being backed up by the inevitable occurrence of a 'pop' quiz the next day.
He shook his head, while going to the small bathroom that the family of three shared. He clicked on the flickering radiant, making a mental note to himself that he needed to change the bulb. Eli took a moment to take in his own reflection, his mouth drawn into a straight line as he washed his face with tap water. He would have to wake up Emma for school soon. He ran his fingers through his hair, deciding that he still had some time to fix it up. Approaching the final moments of dental hygiene, he heard a pair of dainty feet shuffle out of the singular bedroom that the apartment beheld, and over into the living room to lay on the couch. He turned down the force of the water coming from the faucet, dimming his strokes down to gentle brushes against his teeth so that he could hear her heavy breath. Eli grinned, rinsing his mouth with a cup of mouthwash and placing his red toothbrush back into the convenient toothbrush holder that Emma made out of clay for Mothers' Day. He shuffled out of the bathroom, shutting the lights off behind him and approaching his sister with caution; as if he stepped too hard, he would rapture her peace. She was the face of innocence.
A small moan escaped her lips, as she clutched the edge of a pink and white polka dot blanket. She curled her body up into a ball, more vividly in what one would describe as the fetal position. Her eyes fluttered open dramatically, looking at her smiling big brother through adjusting pupils. She grinned back, an adorable yawn escaping her soon after. Eli wasted no time sitting her onto his lap and placing a kiss upon her head.
"Good morning Em," he greeted.
"Morning, Bubba," Emma responded.
Her voice was coarse, and dry. The usual enthusiasm that she discerned had lacked its certain flare. Nonetheless, he smiled, engulfing her into a genuine hug. She latched onto his torso area while he smoothed out her hair. He could feel her stomach growl ferociously in the embrace.
"Hungry?" he questioned her, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
The two broke the hug; leaving Emma to rest on the couch while Eli searched the cabinet for an unopened package of cinnamon flavored pop tarts. He inserted two into the toaster slots and pushed down on the left lever. He then went into the freezer and pulled out two waffles for himself, inserting them into the slots and pushing down on the right lever. He poured out a glass of milk and set it on a tablemat next to an empty plate. Pouring himself a glass of water, Eli heard his phone vibrate against the kitchen counter, a standard ringtone playing from its speakers. He rests his drink down next to the kitchen sink and walked across to retrieve his cellular device. Emma, who had made her way into her seat around the table, watched him with wide, childlike eyes. The screen lit up generously, illuminating block text.
From: Kara
Morning. If you're free, I was wondering if you'd like to grab some fro-yo afterschool? My treat. :)
Eli grinned, leaning himself against the counter as he carefully typed back a reply.
I'd like that. :)
The abrupt popping of the toaster drew his attention away from the screen. He shoved his phone into the threshold of his jean's pocket and placed the hot pop tarts onto Emma's plate. She smiled a sign of appreciation before stuffing a chunk of pop tart into her mouth and quickly washing it down with milk. Soon after, his waffles popped up. He pulled a clean plate from the cabinet and placed his waffles on it, pulling out the syrup as well. Crumbs from the crust of the sugary product collected around the corners of Emma's mouth and her cheeks easily puffed up as she bit off more than she could chew. Eli laughed, going over to ruffle her brown mop of hair. He started to chew on his breakfast selection, keeping his eyes on the time to make sure that he didn't go over schedule.
"Is mom still asleep?" he questioned. He went to pick up Emma's plate and cup from off of the table as well as his own. Eli began to wash off the kitchen utensils while awaiting an answer.
Emma fidgeted awkwardly before delivering a response.
"No, she's fast asleep."
Eli nodded to himself as he finished off the last plate, drying it off with a towel and stacking it atop of another plate in the cabinet. He turned around while drying off his hands with a paper towel. Emma excused herself from the table to get dressed for the days events. She came back not too long after, in a white top, over a fluffy pink skirt. She held two bow-styled, pink scrunchies in her hand, approaching Eli with innocent eyes. He smiled, bringing her over to the couch and sitting her on his lap as he combed out her hair. He was easily able to style it into two small pigtails, going over to the door where a pair of worn down flats sat, bringing them over to her. He bent down on one knee, buckling the shoes into place. Emma blushed naturally, looking down in a hint of embarrassment. She wrung her hands together nervously, parting her light pink lips.
"The girls at school make fun of me," she mumbled. Eli slowed his pace, buckling the last shoe into place and standing up from his position.
"What do you mean Emma?" he asked cautiously. She shook her head, casting her line of sight away from her big brother.
"They say I wear the same shoes to school everyday."
Eli clutched his hands together, shutting his eyes tight. This was the last thing he would have hoped for her. He knew that the other kids there might've isolated her, just for being a new student there, but it surprised him that comical mean girls set their targets on her so fast. He attempted an optimistic smile, reaching his hand out to her to grace over her cheek. His words were soft.
"Emma, don't worry about them. With any kind of mean girl, or anyone who bullies anyone, there's always a reason for it. There is that sadness in them that makes them feel like they need to act out or hurt other people. They want to abuse you. Instead of allowing that, you can use them as your personal motivators. Don't let them win."
One would say that indulging in such a deep topic with a seven-year old would be too trivial and inappropriate for the younger one. That they wouldn't understand until they were older. But Emma understood. She understood perfectly as a matter of fact. He just wanted her to feel the confidence you get from being smart. He didn't want her to grow up surrounded by messages that told her that the most important thing is to be beautiful and wealthy. But since this was the way that society wrapped its influence into the minds of little girls, he wanted—no, he needed to ensure that she wasn't ashamed of who she was.
Emma grinned shyly, embracing Eli into a hug. She broke the hug soon after with Eli grasping her hand and leading them to the door where their bags waited. He tossed on his white sneakers, before unlocking the apartment door and entering the hallway. After waving to their neighbor, Mrs. Lopez who was tending to her window flowers, the two made their way into Eli's car. Eli, in the driver's seat, and Emma buckling herself into a booster seat situated in the back row. After buckling himself in and adjusting his rearview mirror, the two headed off towards Emma's elementary school.
Time: 6:35 a.m.
Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Student Parking Lot
Adagio pulled into the driveway of the student parking lot, entering easily into his usual spot wedged between an always-empty handicap space, and where Stoner Charlie parked his moped. He relaxed into the driver's seat, finishing up a bagel he had snagged from the Loft, a popular hangout/restaurant watering hole for Wawanakwa students. At least he wasn't completely misleading when he told his father he would grab something on the way to school. Adagio opens the car door, wiping his hands off of crumbs onto the concrete pavement. He exits his car, closing the car door behind him and making sure to lock all entrances into the vehicle. Just as he began walking towards the front entrance of the school, Adagio could easily recognize Eli's car, pulling in about four parking spaces to the left of his own. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as a shield from the light autumn breeze. He stood in place, watching his best friend exit his vehicle. Eli spotted Adagio almost immediately, a small grin overcoming him. He took his backpack from out of the passenger seat and approached the catty eyed teen.
"Hey. Good to see you," Eli greeted. The conversation tone was as if they were old high school acquaintances that had just seen each other again at the fourth annual class reunion. Friendly, but distant. But with Adagio always at play rehearsal, and Eli occupied with Emma and work, the two had less than the amount of desired time to see each other. Adagio attempted a small smile, greeting him back with a similar tone, but what may have come out to be more sarcastic than he intended.
"Good to see you too."
Eli nodded, beginning a slow walk towards the entrance. Adagio took his place beside him.
"So, how's everything been going? We haven't talked much in person since orientation."
Eli cast his head down, taking in his friend's words. He was ashamed to say it, but it was true. Aside from a few text messages here and there and the first two football practices, the two rarely had time to hang out anymore. He thinks before he answers.
"I've been pulling through. Emma's been enjoying her new teachers so far. And my mom is in talks as a candidate for this promotion at her job."
When silence comes over them, he suddenly smiles to lighten the mood.
"Also, Mr. Marcy's essay kind of murdered my goddamn soul last night," he laughed.
Adagio's mouth upturned into something that was just passable as a smile.
"What did you do your paper on?" Adagio asked.
Eli sighs, stuffing his hands inside of his pockets. Taxing the Rich: Will placing higher taxes on the rich help the American economy? You?"
A smirk plated on Adagio's lips.
"Well, if I did finish my essay last night, my topic would have been Physician Assisted Suicide: Should physician assisted suicide be legal?"
Eli nodded upon hearing his topic. He looked up to him, hazel eyes meeting a gold tinted green.
"How do you plan on getting yourself out of this one? The assignment is worth 120 points."
The teen scoffed, mock insulted that Eli even felt the need to ask that question. Hadn't he known him long enough?
"A good old fashion sob story will do the trick."
Adagio didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he pulled a white envelope from the front pocket of his backpack. He thrusts his hand out to Eli, gesturing him to take it with a subtle nod of the head.
Eli raises an eyebrow at him, slowly but surely taking the envelope from him. He looks at its front and back before looking back up to Adagio.
"What's this?" he asked.
Adagio clasped his hands together in front of himself.
"Your ticket to opening night of the play. All cast and crew members get one free ticket, and I want to give it to you."
Eli paused.
"So you're still going through with it? I thought Marco said—"
Adagio quickly cut him off.
"I don't care what Marco said. I'm going through with this for myself, and for Michael."
Eli nodded understandingly, listening intently but not interjecting. He knew it was all too sensitive for casual discussion.
"So," Adagio started. He subconsciously tightened the grip that a masculine hair accessory held on his Victorian ponytail.
"Are you up for hanging out after-school?" he finished.
Eli shook his head, a nervous hand going to rub his neck.
"I'm getting fro-yo with Kara before work," he said, a hint of guilt overcoming him. He hated telling him no, especially since their friendship had been hanging on a thread since school started.
"But, I'm sure you can come with us… if you'd like."
Adagio sighed, grateful that his friend was trying to include him in his plans with the girl he liked, but didn't adapt an appetite for taking on the roll of the inevitable third wheel today. Besides, he figured the two would probably want to be alone.
"No, that's alright," Adagio responded.
"Well, how does Thursday sound? We can hang out for a little while, then." Eli offered.
Adagio sighed once again, bringing his hand atop of his head.
"Can't. I have rehearsal until ten that night."
"Oh."
The two continued to walk on in momentary silence. Not awkward, fulfilling.
They approached the front doors into the main lobby. Adagio pushed a single, heavy door open as Eli began to speak again, keeping an optimistic nature about him.
"I'm sure we can find some-" But he stopped himself.
Eli's hazel eyes widened from the sight in front of him. His mouth hung open into an 'o' shape. It took Adagio a second to realize why his friend was caught so surprised, but open seeing what he had set his eyes on, his expression mirrored Eli's.
There, right before a crowd of unsuspecting students' eyes, the school's beloved poster sign of the Wawanakwa Academy gopher: defiled.
Spray-painted over it, a poorly constructed cartoonish, bass fish. In large letters, it is written, "Bass rule! Gopher's Drool! We reign supreme!"
Adagio had to blink twice. He looked over to Eli with certain knowingness in his eyes. They were back.
Time: 7:26 a.m.
Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Principal's Office
"Chris, we have a problem!"
Blaineley stormed into Chris' office, a stern look upon her features. The latter mentioned, who had been occupied balancing a sharpened pencil in the space between his nose and lips, looked taken aback by the woman's outburst. He quickly took his feet off from atop his desk and sat up straight in his wheelie chair. Folding his hands together and straightening out his clover green tie, he looked up to his second in charge.
"What's going on Blaines?" he questioned.
Blaineley placed two firm hands on her hips. She started walking over to him. Her green heels clicked louder with each step.
"What's going on?" she questioned, throwing her hands up in the air.
"What do you mean what's going on? We're in the middle of a potential all out turf war and all you can say to me is, what's going on?!" her voice heightened. Chris raised an eyebrow at her, relaxing two hands behind his head. His facial expression told her that he had no clue as to a single thing that she was trying to get through to him. Blaineley groaned, clutching a fistful of dyed blonde hair in frustration.
"The poster in the main office has been completely vandalized by the school across town, and you're telling me that this doesn't faze you at all?"
Chris peeked an eye open at her as she set down multiple photos of the damage done, in front of him.
"Old Gophy?" Chris questioned, a childish tone to his voice.
Blainieley nodded reassuringly.
"Old Gophy."
Chris adjusted himself, flipping through the different photographs. He looks back up to Blaineley in discomfort.
"Why don't we just check the surveillance footage so we can put these capers to arrest?"
The question at hand was humorous to the woman. He was too idealistic.
"You don't think I thought about that? Whoever broke into the school last night obscured the view of all of the main lobby cameras. And since you were being stingy with the budget, we weren't able to access any audio to surveillance," she explained.
Chris nodded slowly, sucking on his pearly white teeth. He had now gone back to the position that he was in before Blaineley entered his office, his feet kicked onto the desk.
"Hm, I see. Well, no worries. We'll just get today's general detention students to clean up the mess. Bam, Gophy is good as new."
He smiled to her, but Blaineley looked unimpressed.
"Unfortunately, that's the least of our problems. These… hoodlums didn't just vandalize the poster, they also took to the football stadium."
This time, Blaineley placed a new set of pictures in front of him. The football stadium. The only difference, the damage done wasn't so minimal.
Close-up photos on the bleachers showed spray-painted and dented medal. The box office vandalized in different colored bass fishes. A photograph taken inside of the box office showed a collection of cut wires that used to connect the microphones to the sound system. And the last photograph, a zoomed out image of the whole turf field, which had been dug into, in various places. The result, about a dozen large ground holes; dirt seeping out from each atrocity.
Chris let out a low whistle, impressed at the amount of harm a supposedly rag-tag group of outlawed teens could do.
"Wow," he uttered.
"Yeah, wow. The field is ruined. We have to cancel all outdoor gym classes until we can get this damage prepared. This isn't even in our budget!" Blaineley fretted, clasping her forehead with the palm of her right hand.
"And how long do you think that's going to take?" Chris asked.
"I don't know, at least a couple of months. And that doesn't even begin to cease our worries. The fall pep rally is scheduled to take place on Saturday night. What are we going to do with no field? We either cancel the pep rally or…" she trailed.
Chris sat up from his position, looking to the Vice Principal skeptically.
"Or what?"
A sly smirk easily grew on her features.
"Or, we can go to the culprits themselves."
"What do you mean?"
Blaineley rolled her eyes, going to adjust the chopsticks that were holding her hair into a messy bun.
"According to the master district calendar. Pahkitew High is planning to have their pep rally this Saturday too. Since they're the ones who got us into this mess, they can get us out. I suggest I reach out to their principal and discuss the possibility of a joint pep rally on their field. We split the time, half and half to commemorate our athletes and then they can commemorate theirs."
Chris chuckled, shaking his head lightly to her.
"That's all great in theory Blaineley, but do you really think the kids would be up for working in harmony with the same people who vandalized their school? Fat chance!"
She was already searching for the school's contact information.
"It's either that, or no pep rally at all. We're doing this for the kids McLean," she huffed.
Chris sighed, running his hand over his face. He leaned his wheeled chair backwards so that he could get a better view of the plain ceiling.
"Okay, if you can get the principal at Pahkitew to agree, then I'm on board as well. Although I don't think-"
He was interrupted with the sound of a chime coming from the computer in the room.
Blaineley smiled, rushing over to it and clicking on what appeared to be an email. Her eyes quickly scanned over it as she mumbled and mashed the words together. She turned to Chris eagerly, folding her arms across her torso.
"Seems like they're already on board."
Well that was fast. Chris nodded.
"So, what do we do now?"
Blaineley approached the door to the principal's office, pushing it slightly ajar. She turned to Chris one last time.
"Get the word out to the sports' teams, and hope not to crash and burn," she said before sashaying out of the room.
Time: 10:34 a.m.
Place: the Loft
Scar pushed open the front door to the popular hangout, allowing his accompaniment to enter first. Albina trudged into the building, plopping herself down into an empty seat. She turned her head and crossed her legs over one another, refusing to look at Scar as he ordered them two smoothies. It was only until she felt him sit himself down across from her that she bothered to look.
"Well, we're here. Now what?" she grumbled.
"Now, we're going to talk. Why'd you get so upset with me on Tuesday?" he questioned.
Albina shakes her head feverishly.
"It's nothing really. I'm over it, and you should be too," she huffed.
Scar looked at her skeptically just as the waiter brought them their drinks and rested two covered straws in the middle of their table. Albina turned her nose up at the raspberry flavored drink, pushing it away form her.
"Albina, if you were over it, you wouldn't be this upset. And, you definitely wouldn't be rejecting this smoothie right now. Raspberry's your favorite." He explained.
She sighed, uncrossing her legs and turning her body fully towards Scar.
"So, are you going to tell me what this is really about?"
Albina rested her head on her fist.
"Samantha. You've been hanging out with her a lot lately. And you know she's my mortal enemy, Scar. She's batshit evil! How could you do this to me?"
It was hard to believe, but beyond her hard exterior, she looked genuinely hurt. Scar felt uncomfortable under her glare. He played with his thumbs awkwardly, guilt overcoming him. He sees the look on his best friend's face and hates that he's the one who put it there.
"Albina, I didn't know you felt so strongly about this. We've just been working together on this big Glee club assignment that she has. It was a deal we made. If I helped her with the music arrangement, I could use her vocals on my next demo. That's all. Albina, I didn't mean to—" he rambled.
She nodded, stopping him in the middle of his sentence. She shook her head, folding her hands together in front of him.
"I know, I know. It's just… seeing the way you two became close." She looks down for a moment, nervously biting her pale pink lips.
"Scar, d-do you… do you like Samantha?" She looked at him with fleeting eyes, sipping on the raspberry smoothie to take her attention off of anticipating his response.
Scar smiled, stroking his chin playfully.
"Not even close to how much I like you, if that's what you really wanted to know."
He pushes her shoulder playfully as a blush grows on her cheeks.
"That's good to know," she replied.
Scar pulled out his wallet, taking a few dollars from it and putting it under the paper check that came with the drinks. Albina smiled, taking in more of the smoothie. The two left their empty glasses on the table, leaving the Loft shortly afterwards to make it back in time for the next period in school.
Time: 11:13 a.m.
Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Cafeteria
Word of the newly decided joint pep-rally spread around the school like wildfire by the end of third period. With Mr. McLean's big mouth, it was no surprise that every clique down to the stoners knew about what was supposed to go down on Saturday night. And, just as the infamous man predicted, the students were indulged in social havoc.
"This is complete bullshit!" Liam raved from the jock table. He gritted his teeth, running his fingers through his warm brown hair styled into a faux hawk. His jungle green T-shirt, though speculated not to be possible, strung tighter along his muscles as usual.
The entire football team huddled around a single section of the table as all of the sports' teams had decided to do.
"How does McLean expect us to just make nice to the people who wrecked our field?" one of the cornerbacks commented. A few mumbles of agreement followed.
"And what about practice? Coach says we're going to have to use that crappy field down at the golf course. The fucking golf course!"
Even more cacophony.
Adagio watched the team go up into flames of disagreement. He rolled his eyes whilst looking down to pick at his nails. He too had his fair share of history with Pahkitew over the past few years, but all this commotion over… nothing? He didn't think it was worth it.
"I say we hit 'em back, you know? Go mess with a few of their things. And then we'll see who's really supreme," Liam commanded.
The majority of the guys nodded in agreement, a chorus of 'yeah,'s and 'let's do it's following shortly afterwards.
"Guys, guys," Eli announced from his seat at the table. The team quieted down to look at their esteemed quarterback.
"Look, we don't have to go to their school and pull the same shit just to prove a point. Why stoop down to their level? We're better than that," he tried to comply.
Liam groaned, the buttons on his shirt becoming undone.
"So, you just want us to sit here and do nothing? You know they'll be back with more," a linebacker retaliated.
Eli shook his head. "That's not necessarily what I'm saying. We shouldn't play fire with fire. We'll just end up with a bigger fire. I say we stay on the defensive for now, and hopefully this whole thing will blow over by the start of the season."
Liam let out a sarcastic laugh, less than impressed with the plan. "And if it doesn't?"
"If it doesn't…" Eli started.
Adagio looked up from his nails, looking to Liam in annoyance.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Eli is right. We shouldn't be so eager to jump into an all out prank war. You guys remember what happened two years ago? That was our strike two. If things ever get that far again, then both of us are out of the championship and we can kiss that big ass prize money goodbye. Is that what you want?" His voice was stern and warning with a hint of remorse, but it sure shut everyone up. Liam looked away, his shirt completely undone with his bare chest and abdomen exposed. He looked back to Eli, not daring to meet gazes with Adagio.
"Alright, we'll do it your way Greyson. But the second your plan fails, we're all in," he warned.
Eli smiled nodding his head to his teammate. He goes to shake his hand the second the bell rings. As the team dispersed, Eli watched Adagio throw his trash away from lunch and make it back over to the table.
"Hey, thanks for having my back," Eli says to him.
Adagio nods, adjusting the inconsistent length of the shoulder straps on his backpack.
"Don't mention it," he mumbled. Adagio couldn't help but wonder if Liam only backed down because the team still viewed him as some sort of wounded animal. He was the source of a pity party, and he hated it. He hated the way they looked at him and went along with whatever he said. Not just Liam, but his teachers, Coach, his friends.
Adagio shook his head from the thought, pushing politely past his best friend and towards the student courtyard. Ms. Kizzek would have to miss him for art class today.
Time: 11:48 a.m.
Place: the Student Courtyard
Adagio sat contently under a tree, his sketchbook sitting on his lap, and a graphite drawing pencil making gentle strokes against the rough paper. He sighs, tapping the utensil against his chin. He breathes, throwing his head against the tree. The birds living amongst the high treetops chirp enormously amongst themselves and suddenly he yearns for complete peace and quiet. He gets up from the ground, brushing off his jeans and takes a seat farther away from the noise at the table that seemed to inhabit the less left over trash from the lunch period. Adagio adjusts himself on the cold metal seat before continuing on in his sketch.
"Wow, you are extremely talented."
Adagio almost jumped when he heard the voice resonate from behind him. He clutched his sketchbook to his chest, whipping his head around to meet the owner.
To his surprise, he was met with a 6'2" and muscular male with pale blue eyes. He had a messy ombre blonde and black faux hawk with the sides cut. He had a very strong and defined jawline along with light tan skin. The teen had both his ears pierced with diamond studs, his septum pierced and noticeably, on his left bicep, a tattoo of a heart with angel wings. On his neck, a selection of dog tags. Adagio had to blink twice. Instead of lashing out at the guy for nearly giving him a hard attack, he nodded to him.
"Thank you," he mumbled, turning back to his work.
Any socially cautious person would have taken this as an open invitation to leave, but unfortunately for Adagio, this was not a socially cautious person. He leaned in for a closer look at his work, placing one hand on the table next to Adagio and another hand on his hip.
"That's a portrait of Jane Austen right?" he questioned, a lively glint in his eye.
Adagio looked down onto his unfinished sketch, to see exactly that. He figured that after smooth talking his way out of a zero for Mr. Marcy's essay, and paying off his sources to ultimately do the assignment for him, he could throw in a little 'extra credit' artistic representation work. Portraits weren't really Adagio's thing, and if he would have opted for free reign, the picture would have come out a bit more abstract then something so cut and paste. But, Mr. Marcy, for use of metaphor was a square. There was nothing un-molded about him. If this was what's going to impress him for that extra boost, then certainly Adagio could make an exception. It was only until the boy tilted his head cutely to the side, that Adagio was snapped out of his trance. The boy smiles at him, and suddenly Adagio feels like he's being preheated in an oven at three hundred and fifty degrees.
"Ah, yes. This is Jane Austen. Are you a fan?" Adagio answers.
The guy smiled, taking a seat next to Adagio.
"Yeah. I'm a huge fan of her work. It's not too masculine to admit that, but I do just fine."
He smiles at Adagio before holding out a quick hand.
"I'm Andy, by the way."
Andy. The name didn't quite ring a bell. Adagio looks to his hand, going to shake it slowly.
He starts, "I'm—"
He is cut off by the sound of Andy's laugh.
"Oh, I know who you are."
Adagio looks at him with an expression that could only be translated as confusion. Upon realizing that he was being stared at, Andy suppressed his laughter, clearing his throat in the process.
"I mean, not that I stalk you or anything. I mean, uh, my sister. She's in stage crew for the fall production. She's a freshman this year, and each time she comes home from rehearsal, she talks about how great of an actor this Adagio DiVagleo guy is. I think you inspire her."
Andy grinned widely. Adagio looked taken aback. He was surprised to hear that not any and all chatter revolving around him was associated with what happened with Michael. Although, taking into account that this girl was just a freshman. Still, he inspired her.
Adagio nods to Andy, smiling only slightly.
"I'm glad to hear," he replied.
Andy began to play with the tags on his neck chain.
"Well, you know what they say about acting, and by 'they' I mean Johnny Depp…"
A humorous grin tugged at the corner of Adagio's mouth as he continued sketching.
"With any part you play, there is a certain amount of yourself in it."
Andy stands up to collect his backpack that he had rested in the grass at his arrival.
"I'm interested to see a little more of you on opening night, Adagio."
He doesn't wait for a response. He just walks towards the entrance leading back into the school, turning around so he could face him one more time; a smirk evident on his features.
"I'll definitely be seeing you around."
With a small two-fingered salute, he's off into the hallway.
Adagio watches him off, only turning back to his sketch when he can no longer see him. He finishes off the portrait, quickly stuffing his sketchbook back into his bag and slumping over in his seat. He let out a sigh and shut his eyes tight, hoping to drown out the now apparent increasing chatter of the birds.
Time: 2:43 p.m.
Place: the Loft
"Okay, we have a Honey Vanilla Greek for the sir, and a Key Lime Bar with extra blueberries for the beautiful lady," Eli finishes, placing a tray down on the table.
Each selection came with a small green spoon, covered in plastic for eating purposes. Eli looked down at Kara with a smile on his face. The latter who had her head placed in her hands. She grinned back at Eli while he was taking the seat across from her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thank you," she says.
The two release their spoons from their plastic coverings, playfully clicking their cups together in mock cheers before beginning to eat.
Eli looks up at Kara who was finishing off her yogurt rather lethargically. He raised a concerned eyebrow at her, momentarily resting his spoon in his yogurt cup.
"Hey, is everything alright?" he asked her.
Kara nodded, taking another bite out of the dairy treat. She focuses her green eyes on him.
"Yeah, I'm just a little caught up in this whole pep rally fiasco, you know?"
Eli nodded understandingly. He collects more of his frozen yogurt into his spoon.
"What's going on, Kar?"
She sighs before speaking.
"The team is really on edge about going to Pahkitew High. Last year at Nationals, we nearly lost to their team by half a point. And now that we've lost a good chunk of our team to graduation, we're afraid that they'll pull some sort of stunt to show us up," she moaned.
Eli sighed, going to place his hand sympathetically to rest atop of hers.
"Don't say that. I've seen you guys cheer before. You were unbelievably talented."
She shakes her head.
"Yeah, we were. Now, we're completely out of synch with one another. Individually, everything's there, but we can't seem to wrap our heads around working together as a team. And I know, that once we get to the school, everyone is going to torment me about- "
She stops herself before she can say more, mumbling a 'nothing', afterwards
Eli looked down to the table, deciding not to press into the issue. He thinks of what to say next.
"Well, I know that if anyone can pull together a kick ass cheer team, it's you," he grins.
Kara giggles, digging her spoon back into what remained of her treat. She smiles, looking back up to him.
"Oh really? And why is that?"
His grin gets wider as he rubs his thumb in circles on the surface of her hand.
"Because you're incredible."
Kara lets a laugh escape her lips at his cheesiness.
"You're sweet," she says.
They both put their empty cups back onto the tray, and Eli goes to throw their trash out. He returns to the table empty handed and grins at Kara.
"So, how are the guys on the football team taking the news?"
Eli fidgets, rubbing his neck nervously. He has a flashback to their lunch conversation and cringes from the memory.
"Some are taking it better than others," he mutters.
Kara gave him a knowing look.
"Okay, I don't think anyone is taking it that well. They want revenge, actually."
Kara furrowed her brows together, signaling Eli to say more.
"I understand their concern. We don't want to be viewed as a team that can easily be taken advantage of. But then again, we don't want to come off as aggressive," he explained.
Kara folded her arms over each other.
"What did you say, then?"
"I told them that we should play it on the defense. Attacking them is just going to make this whole situation worse. We can get kicked out of the championships if we're caught in an act like that. This is the safest bet."
He pauses, running his fingers nervously through his hair. He feel insecure with himself.
"Did I make the right choice?"
Kara thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly to him.
"I think you did what's best for your team. Better safe than sorry." She then smiles.
"It's nice that you guys are deciding to be the bigger team about this. You made the right choice, as a leader should. Don't worry about it."
Eli grinned back, taking her hand into his. She blushes, biting girlishly at her lip. Eli is about to say something else until the two hear Kara's phone buzz. She retracts her hand from his, muttering an apology before taking out her device. Eli watched her gape at the notification on her phone, her face setting in to shock.
"What's wrong, Kara?" he asked her.
Kara sighed, the hand not holding her phone going to clutch her forehead.
"Looks like our friend Esther, just posted something new on her blog."
Eli looked at Kara, wide-eyed, hoping that she was just kidding at his expense. But when she showed him her phone, and the article title, "Pahkitew vs. Wawanakwa: Bass Rule, Gophers Drool?!", his face drops.
Eli moved his chair in closer to get a better look.
October 20.
This just in: fresh, hot and juicy drama to start the school year off right! Inside sources tell me that Wawanakwa got more than the morning announcements to keep them on their toes today! Looks like a bunch of Pahkitew High pranksters left their mark on good 'ol Gophy. And not only that, but they totally wrecked the field! Pics of the damage are attached below. Now I don't know about you cats, but if I went to Wawanakwa, I'd be looking for some hardcore revenge right about now. In fact, by the severity of the wreck, I was excepting a little something by the end of the school day. But, nothing! Is Wawanakwa actually chickening out? OR is what their planning bigger than what we could ever expect? Talk about suspense! And get this, because their field is wrecked, Principal Kendall agreed to let them share their pep rally with us, this Saturday night. Like, Oh Em Barf! Well, at least it'll make for steamy drama! I'll be there. Will you? Make sure to subscribe to the blog for updates on this week's pending story. What's to come of this rivalry? Will Wawanakwa ever strike back?! What do you think? Leave your comments below!
This is Esther H. signing off!
Eli looked sick to his stomach as Kara withdrew her phone from him, shoving it back into her bag. They didn't even bother to look at the comment section in fear of worsening the already damp mood.
"She's at this shit again?" Eli complained. He tensed up from just thinking about how childish she was being. Kara placed a supporting hand on his shoulder, rubbing it tenderly in hopes of easing his worries.
"Hey, don't stress yourself out about this. You know Esther; she talks a big game. Like you said, we should just take it easy. We don't have to succumb to this. Not this year."
Eli nodded, unconvincingly. He relaxed a little from her words, but still worried that someone would take Esther's post as a challenge, and do something that they would later regret. He smiled, only as to reassure her that he was okay.
"You're right," he said.
Kara brushed a piece of hair out of her face, leaning over to place a kiss on his temple. She needed to get his mind off of this.
"We have about forty five minutes until you have to head off to work. Do you wanna head up to the arcade and try out that new skeeball machine?" she offered.
Eli nodded, a smirk growing on his face.
"Of course. But, if I win, you have to let me take you out to that Mexican place that I've been dying to try."
Kara nods, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
"Hm, very tempting. But, when I win, you have to let me cook for you one of these weekends."
Eli grinned, standing up from his seat at the table.
"Sounds like a plan," he replied to her.
The two shook on it, sharing a laugh as they traveled up to the second floor of the building.
Time: 5:17 p.m.
Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Football Stadium
The stadium looked like something that crawled out of the lagoon. Behind the worn down bleachers, a small group of teenage boys discussed amongst themselves; most dressed in coats for the purpose of shielding against the autumn wind and precipitation.
"Please remind me why I hauled my ass over here, just to be standing in the freezing rain," Brian, one of the guys complained. He leaned against the graffiti wall, finishing off a cigarette.
A silhouette approached the group, a black hood covering his hair. He looked down to the floor, hiding his facial features from them. It was only until the guy was at a reasonable distance from, that the group was able to recognize him as Liam.
"Finally ya show up. How are you gonna be the one to call the meeting, and be the last one to arrive?" another guy criticized.
Liam shook his head, pulling his hood down from off of his brown hair.
"I needed to make sure there was no one around to see us. Alright, huddle up."
The teens formed themselves into a huddle circle.
"Okay, so I think we all know what this is about. The Pahkitew pussies think that they can just push us around whenever the hell they want. I say, we set them straight," Liam explained.
There were a few mumbles that followed, more of approval than disagreement.
Brian spoke again, rolling his eyes in the process.
"I thought we already settled this. Eli said we need to—"
Another guy on the team spoke up.
"It doesn't matter what Eli said. This is nothing against him. We just need to do this for us. Are we going to sit here and wait for their next attack? Just as Esther's blog said? Or are we going to stand up to them like the team I know we are?"
A silence came over the group as they all exchanged glances with one another.
"Listen, if we're going to go through with this. We need to make sure that Eli and Adagio don't know about this. I only contacted you guys because I knew you wouldn't squeal," Liam concluded.
"Why can't Adagio know?" another voice asked.
"He's Eli's best friend. There's no way he could keep this a secret from him. Plus, he probably wouldn't be down for it anyway."
They all mumbled in agreement.
"So, are you guys in?" Liam questioned them.
They all hesitated, but eventually everyone in the group nodded in their contract of participation. Liam grinned, drawing in closer to them.
"Alright, here's the plan…"
Hiya guys! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Please make sure to leave a review. They really help. Just an announcement. Starting with next chapter, I am moving the story's rating up to M for reasons of language and nsfw themes. So, if you happen to be someone who checks for updates on the Total Drama fanfic page, you know that the default rating that they show you is K – T. Therefore, when I update, the story will only be shown on the page if you change the rating to 'All'. If this is the case, then I advise following the story so that you can get notifications on when I update, if you don't already do so, and/or don't regularly change the default rating. That's all from me. Thank you for reading! Until next time!