Author's Notes: So, uh, I think I heard Peanut going on about him wasting some people in baseball at some point, so I guess he has a hobby other than thinking about Lola or Johnny. Y'know what, I wish the other greasers showed some support for Hal's cheese burger fight club idea, it's not like they ever seem to do anything else than think about bikes, their hair, or relationship problems. Yes, I tried to stalk them around for the sake of this fic and it was boring.

Chapter 7: Bottom Feeder

Larry Romano hadn't died, but he had become a ghost. Having made enemies in the past and not having powerful allies anymore, he had no other option than to lay as low as possible. He felt like some sort of primitive sea creature, not having any control beyond being able to pathetically twitch and squirm against the current so he wouldn't drift into some predator's gaping mouth. His only saving grace was that there were some people who could offer an illusion of safety in exchange for working for them like an animal. Jimmy Hopkins, for example. Even though Larry had had a very good excuse, the need to thank him for calling the ambulance, for approaching him, it had been excruciatingly difficult and embarrassing to ask him for help.

Help he had received. But not for cheap. Playing nerd bodyguard, distracting teachers and other authorities, and fixing other people's stuff while Jimmy had fun and reaped the benefits wasn't cheap at all. And all he really got from that was an official head boy-certified transfer into a room with no greasers. Until the move, he simply slept in Lucky's bed, which was at the very least not in the same room as Johnny's.

Of course, the separation from the greaser clique wouldn't have needed to be so thorough. But, Larry had decided that if he was going to do it, he would do it all the way. He did wonder if the rest of the greasers, especially Norton who probably was now left with the burden of taking care of the royal pair, felt betrayed or neglected, but he figured that it shouldn't be bad to think of himself first in a while. He really needed a break from anything related to Johnny and Lola, even if it meant that he had to waste his presence into nothing.

And really, the fainter he could make his existence, the better. Because Larry knew that he was watching. Or rather, they. They were out there, observing, plotting, and probably enjoying the fact that Larry knew they were coming for him, but not when or where. Larry felt relatively safe during and between classes since there was only so much you could do between breaks, but the rest of the day was what a wide open field was to Bambi's mother. Sure, if they attacked and his old gang saw it, they'd come to his aid, probably, but Larry did NOT want that.

So, Larry considered himself a dead man walking. He tried to keep a low profile in order to make himself an unappealing target. Sadly, he had become a sight to behold just for the things he no longer was: people gave him sideward glances as they saw him, walking down the school halls in a simple school attire without his leather jacket. He could practically feel the rumors moving around him as if the school halls were the bowels of some kind of giant gossip beast. In retaliation to that, the young man rejected even the few non-hostile attempts to communicate with him. Most recently, he had rudely deterred the young Melody Adams as she had tried to carefully initiate a conversation with him, which must have taken guts from her, considering the age difference. He wondered if he would feel bad about it after his bout of broodiness but, still being a teenager, all he could really concentrate on was how unwell he was feeling then and there.

A more practical part of Larry's brain, a part that wasn't used to not being listened to and was severely outraged by its loss of status, was nagging at him though. He was out of the clique, so now what? Would he lurk around the school like a rat for the rest of his senior year? Was he going to stop playing in baseball matches because Lucky and Lefty played there too? What would he do about his hair now that he didn't feel like slicking it behind his head? In its limp state, it was annoyingly long: long enough to bother him but just short enough so he couldn't sweep it behind his ears or anything. It also made him look dorky.

Too many questions, no answers.

Larry inhaled sharply as he was suddenly called back to Earth by a passing thought. Where was everybody? Having been deep in thought for so long, he hadn't even noticed the absence of Constantinos Brakus, who spent a lot of his time whining about some random thing. Larry stood up from his bed and looked up: Ivan Alexander, who had the top bunk to his bottom and spent a lot of time there napping while pretending to listen to Constantinos, was also missing. Ditto for Lance Jackson from the other bunk bed.

Huh. Not that there was anything bad about them being gone, quite the opposite, but it was rather strange of all of them to be gone when it was 11:00 in the evening. Usually there'd be at least one of them getting ready for bed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Startled, Larry jerked as he turned around. He was about to raise his voice to ask who it was, but then it got him thinking... Should he just ignore it? As he hesitated, another knock sounded from the creaky piece of wood that was scribbled full of inane messages and drawings. This time, the sound carried an edge and pace of impatience.

Okay, he'd wait one more series of knocks to see if they went away and then open the door if they didn't leave. So he waited. And lo, did the sounds did come back – only this time, they didn't seem to end at all. The medley of different types of knocks echoed through the room and it was just too annoying to ignore.

"Alright, alright. Jeez", Larry huffed and stomped to the doorway.

When the frustrated boy opened the door and was ready to blow up at the cause of this noise, he was greeted by a person significantly taller than him, hunched in a pose that signaled extreme danger.

"Punch delivery!" Bif Taylor gleefully greeted as his much feared left uppercut met Larry's jaw. A white flash started from the corner of his eyes and suddenly he was out like a light.

Boy, his head sure was going to places lately.

Author's Notes: Nope, I'm not going to let Peanut catch a break just yet.