Chapter 30: When Help Doesn't Come to You...
Spring was in the air, sort of. It didn't cheer Larry up much as he trudged through the slush-covered school yard though. Soon the slush would be gone from Bullworth too, revealing the puke-colored dead grass underneath and the nasty old dog turds that had been encased in ice since the previous year. Why spring was so universally loved and longed for, Larry had no idea. Well, it did mean that he wouldn't have to endure Bullworth Academy much longer, provided he wouldn't have to repeat a year or anything. Also, the days were getting longer and brighter: you could actually see some sunlight in the morning before being shut inside the dingy school building for several hours.
As Larry and a couple of other students came through the main doors of their prison, they were once again greeted by a very miffed Max McTavish's threats to bust them if they didn't immediately drag their asses to their classes. Larry had to go to his locker to pick up his books first, though. Upon opening the door to his locker, a small piece of paper floated out innocently, landing right next to Larry's grimy shoes. When he crouched to pick it up, he was intrigued – who had put it inside his locker?
Lunch break, behind the girls' dorm. Got a gig for you. Make sure nobody follows you!
No name was given.
Well, business is business, right?
When the lunch break was initiated by the familiar ringing of bells, Larry left the main building and started walking towards the girls' dorm. He had pondered who could have left the note and the same words kept popping up in his mind: Earnest Jones, pantie raid. That would've explained the paranoia implied by the note, at least. Really, who would follow Larry around now that even the vindictive Tad Spencer wasn't the least bit interested?
Alas, when he went around the corner of the dorm building, the figure he saw standing on a garbage container and looking inside a window did not belong to the head of the nerd clique.
"J-Johnny!"
Johnny Vincent was startled by the sudden noise so he stumbled as he turned around, almost slipping and falling. When he found his balance again, he tried to play it off coolly but yeah, it was obvious that he had nearly found himself lying in the wet snow below.
"Larry. Finally", he said while clearing his throat, "Did anyone follow you?"
"Jeez, of course not!" Larry snapped.
"You sure?" the clique leader double-checked.
If only looks could kill.
"Alright, alright, just checkin'", Johnny grunted while making his way down from the container. When he hit the ground and stood up stiffly, his eyes met with Larry's demanding scowl.
"Wouldja mind telling me what's goin' on, Johnny? Cravin' to see a pair of wrinkly saggy tits or what?" the ex-greaser asked while making a nod toward the window Johnny had been peeping through. Among male students, it was an often-lamented fact that, of all rooms possible, the only window you could reach from the heavy, unmoving garbage container offered a premium view into Mrs. Peabody's room.
"You ain't a comedian Larry, cut it out. Anyways, I need somethin' from that old hag's room and I need some help to get it", Johnny said with a serious tone of voice.
"Yeah? And what would that thing be?" Larry asked with a squint of his eyes.
"The book where that scraggly old witch keeps a record of the chicks' periods", the greaser leader stated matter-of-factly.
"The what?"
"You heard me right. I know it exists, Lola told me about it once. Anyhow, I know Vance had a talk with you so I bet you know why I need it", Johnny hemmed.
Yikes, he knew about that too? Larry started to wonder if it had been a good idea to talk to Vance at all.
"Yeah, except... Wait, if you wanna know if Lola's really pregnant or not, why don't you just use a test or somethin'?" Larry inquired, not quite following Johnny's logic.
"Y'think I haven't tried to get her to take one? You know how she's like, she keeps weaseling out", the greaser growled.
Larry was about to ask how hard it could be to just walk into a drugstore, buy a pregnancy test, and hand it over to Lola, but then he remembered that this was Johnny he was thinking about – there was no way he'd manage going into any store to buy "ladies' things". The only reason Larry himself could think about doing it was that he had done more embarrassing things for her.
"Well, if ya suspect she ain't for real, you're kinda bound to see if that's true or not, eventually", Larry grumbled and crossed his arms.
"I don't care, I hafta know now. It's buggin' the hell outta me, man. Will you help me find out?" Johnny asked, his voice desperate and hopeful at the same time.
"Why don't you ask the guys to help? It's not like I have the only workin' pair o' hands here", Larry questioned. He was very reluctant to get involved in this. He had sworn to not do that!
"Can't trust 'em, Larry. They're hidin' somethin' from me, plotting behind my back. I can't figure out what, but I think Norton's behind it", Johnny explained, starting to pace back and forth nervously.
Hoo boy. That was probably the reason for the note being anonymous: Johnny thinking the other greasers would have intercepted the message somehow.
"You're just bein' really paranoid again, aintcha?" Larry snorted, carefully avoiding the fact that he sort of knew what was going on.
"The hell I am! In any case, this is my chance: Peabody's havin' lunch in the caf. But, I need someone to look out for me while I deal with the locks. C'mon man, I'll pay you if that's holdin' ya back", Johnny said, stopping in his tracks and turning to fully face Larry.
His old right-hand man shuddered. Him, taking money from his old boss?
"Jeez, man! I ain't takin' money from you!"
"But you'll do it?" Johnny asked hopefully, earning a frown from Larry. On the other hand, he was feeling charitable and he had already come all the way to the dorm from the main building... Then again, busting into Mrs. Peabody's room was risky and he would be seriously going back on his will if he served as Johnny's lackey again.
"I... Sure, why not. But this ain't happenin' again, okay?" he sighed, already regretting his decision.
Author's Notes: I, um. I know most fan fiction is about pandering to fetishes and stuff, and I respect that. That's because this fan fic does that exact same thing: it's my kind of porn. My kind of porn, however, isn't exactly what I'd call fluffy romance or celebration of sex, it's inane slice-of-life with characters struggling with large helpings of frustration and unfulfillment. I'm the kind of person who is satisfied by simply seeing people degenerate so I gravitate towards the ill and unfortunate. Can you guess why I like playing Bully in the first place?
I'm mostly unapologetic about my personal preferences, but at the same time your thoughts mean a lot to me and I dread the thought of finding out that you'd be disappointed by my fic. Therefore, you peeps deserve to know the truth: it's not my primary objective to reward characters with amounts of happiness and love that are equal to the struggling and hardships they endure. Please don't take it the wrong way if you feel duped - I haven't meant to tease you with hints of possible euphoria!