[[a/n: i still feel obligated to thank everyone for all the nice reviews/favs/follows so far. i appreciate every single one that i get. it means a lot to me to know that people actually like my work.]]

Pinky may have been angry with me earlier, but for now, she was happy. And when Pinky was happy, everyone was allowed to be happy. Duncan did a fabulous job at appeasing her, and I don't even think it was intentional. Whether he knew it or not, he saved me from a long, angry lecture from Miss Gauthier that would have drastically hindered our performance. I could have thanked him if I wanted to.

But, for the obvious reasons, I didn't want to. So I didn't. Nor did I show him any signs of appreciation for anything he had done for me that night. He didn't deserve my kindness. It was because of his people that I was in this ridiculous situation in the first place.

Pinky and Duncan seemed to be getting along fairly well, more so because of her interest with lower class customs than anything else. She kept asking him stupid questions about life in the slums as we rode our bikes across the bridge into the sleeping Bullworth Town, and Duncan would answer as though he were enjoying the attention. Although I was quite disdainful with Pinky for taking such a keen interest in poor people, I hoped that Duncan at least realized how fortunate he was for her to be so enthralled with him.

But I doubted that. The way he spoke to her suggested that he viewed himself as her equal. How despicable.

"My father tells me that poor people have to hunt for food in their own backyards," Pinky began. "Is that true?" she pried, quite fascinated with the topic.

"Yeah, sometimes," Duncan answered casually with a shrug, not a trace of acknowledgment to the fact that someone of status was speaking to him in that gravelly voice of his.

I rolled my eyes. Surprisingly, Trash Heap was not at the root of my annoyance in that moment. Instead, it was Pinky. Now was not the time for interviewing the poor people. This was precisely why I didn't want her coming along. She was distracting us from our objective!

"Pinky, how did you even know where I would be?" I asked. It was quite strange of her to catch me mere moments before Duncan and I had left school grounds.

"I was following you." She spoke so innocently, as though it were normal to follow me around at this hour. "I woke up around midnight and snuck out after you. You could've closed the door a bit quieter, you know."

Damn. I did fear that I had been too loud after leaving.

Duncan led us down the dirt path behind the motel, around the most of New Coventry. It was much better to take that path, avoiding patrolling officers and any stray Greasers alike.

Somehow, I really wasn't surprised with Pinky's response. The fact that she had parked her bike neatly against the campus walls led me to believe that she had at least planned our encounter. A groan left my throat. "Pinky, that isn't appropriate," I scolded. "You can't follow people around during these late hours dressed in clothes only fit to sleep in. People may think you're some thug."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Gord, I don't wear clothes to bed," she chortled. "They're just for appearances. I sleep in the nude."

I grimaced. She knew better than to say such things out loud where some undesirable might hear! Who knows what perverted things a poor person might have done with that information?

Trash Heap smiled. "You're lucky you can do that. I have to sleep in my undies in case my brother walks in on me in the middle of the night."

Pinky laughed. "I used to do that, but every morning when I woke up-"

This wasn't a very classy conversation. I cleared my throat. "So, Pinky... what's in that bag of yours?"

She brightened. "Wanna see?"

The three of us stopped, Pinky hopping off of her bike seat to reach into the plastic bag on her shoulder. She dug around for a few brief seconds, ending with an 'a-ha!'. It felt as though she pulled out whatever was inside in slow motion. I wanted to tell her to hurry up, but at the same instance I feared to know what she was in possession of. She had been shocking me far more than usual lately, and I wanted to hold on to the tiny bit of innocence Pinky still maintained in my eyes.

(You know, that sounded much less obsessive in my head.)

I noticed she was grasping onto something, as one may hold the end of a baseball bat, and pulled the object out further to reveal a short wooden handle. It reminded me of one of our cricket bats. Once the object was completely revealed, she held it towards the sky, like a knight wielding his sword.

My jaw dropped. It was one of our cricket bats! What on Earth did she plan on doing with that?

"See, isn't this neat? I took this from Parker's room! I thought I'd bring it along in case we'd have to... you know..." She giggled. "...kick some plebeian ass."

I gasped, like a weak-hearted mother. What was happening to the sweet Pinky I once knew? "Pinky! First of all, don't say things like that! It isn't ladylike! Second, even if the Greaseballs were to threaten a fight, violence is never the answer!" I crossed my arms, satisfied with my speech.

Pinky lowered her bat. "Since when? We fight with the Greasers all the time!"

Duncan cut in. "Good thinking ahead, duder! You know how to use it?"

She nodded fervently. "Of course! I play cricket in the summer!" Pinky demonstrated by giving the bat a couple of strong - albeit uncoordinated - swings to the left and right. Her actions startled me drastically, causing me to flinch, but Duncan seemed to appreciate it, a big, stupid grin spread across his face. "I know it isn't 'ladylike', Gord," Pinky said to me (well, more at me), quotations implied. "But being 'ladylike' won't get Chad's bike back."

I was flustered. Where did that come from? I was simply reminding her that she had a status to worry about!

"That's the spirit, Rich Girl!" Trash Heap raised a fist to the air, shamelessly encouraging this behavior.

Pinky grinned as she slid the bat back into her bag, and the two of them started down the path once more, leaving me behind. Goodness, this was absolutely insane. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought for a second that they might have fallen out.

I sighed. At least it wouldn't last for much longer...

Our journey down the dirt path ended moments later, and like that we facing the road which led into Blue Skies. I felt so relieved. Though technically we were still in Greaser territory, we were far enough into the outskirts to avoid any confrontations. No Greasers would be out this far at such a late hour. There was practically nothing this way; there was no reason to be here.

At least, I hoped that would be the case.

We rode a bit further before I spotted Duncan's Townie friends down the road. They were standing around by the tenement next to the bridge, loitering in the same matter they would at the carnival. Henry, Omar, Gurney, and that other short one. Henry was sitting on the seat of a shiny blue bike which was slightly too short for him, idly chatting with his fellows. I breathed out, all of the weight on my shoulders instantly alleviated. That must have been Chad's bike. Good, so he had held up his part of our deal.

This nightmare seemed so easy to escape from it almost felt like a dream.

Pinky caught the attention of that Gurney, receiving a casual nod from him as a greeting. She waved back at him eagerly, blushing pink and giggling like a little girl. Pathetic. I elbowed her in the waist. She looked to me afterwards, more shocked than anything else. "Ow, don't do that, Gord!"

Hmph.

"Alright, dudes, we're almost done." Duncan hopped off of his bike, stepping a bit closer towards the other Townies. "Hey, Otto!" he called rather loudly to the group. He waved for the short one to come forward, and that Otto approached us in turn.

Otto. I scoffed internally. Where on Earth did these poor people come up with their names?

"It's about time you showed up," that Otto greeted Duncan once he was close enough. He nodded towards me, a flicker of hostility in his eyes. "Is that the schoolboy?"

Duncan didn't answer, merely gesturing the others over to our spot.

I shuddered as they approached us. They walked like savages, shoulders broad and heads low, like lurking predators. Henry held Chad's bike under his arm as though it were nothing, as a student may carry a particularly light textbook. For someone such as myself, they were a very humbling group of people. I was no longer the one in power here. They were so much larger than me, so much stronger.

I hadn't realized how much that actually frightened me until then. The Townies, the poorest people in Bullworth, had power over me. Maybe it was because we were in Greaser territory that it seemed so much more frightening? I also hadn't smoked in quite a while.

Yes, something like that.

Henry looked me over. "Got the bike, do ya?" he inquired. It was a rhetorical question, but I responded anyways.

I nodded, remaining silent, presenting the rusty vehicle to him by its handlebars. My heart was picking up pace. I feared they could see its pounding through the fabric of my shirt.

That Omar snorted. "You should give him his bike. He looks like he's aboutta piss his pants."

Henry set Chad's bike down on its wheels for me, and I gave him his in turn. "Pleasure doin' business with ya," he said with a smirk. The Townies turned around, back to Blue Skies, not another word more from them.

But Duncan stayed to give me a quick goodbye. "I'll see you around, dude." His voice was friendly and sweet compared to those of his friends. It was even somewhat comforting. He gave me a final grin before catching up with his group.

And that was it. They were finished, as was this situation. Never again would I have to do anything like this. Thank heavens.

Phew, alright. That was finally over with. Time to head back...

Wait.

I stopped, taking a minute to stare at the bike Henry had given me.

This wasn't right.

It was a very nice bike, and it did look rather expensive, but...

"This isn't Chad's bike!"

It was some mountain bike, very thick and heavy, and definitely not an Aquaberry model. How could this be? He must have thought it'd be a clever idea to give me a much cheaper bike instead of Chad's expensive one, which he would then keep for himself. Despicable! Did he honestly think he could get away with something like this? Did he really think I wouldn't notice?

Pinky looked it over. "You're right!" She brought a finger to her chin, thoughtful. "Oh, well, he probably won't notice," she said with a shrug.

I hardly cared whether or not Chad noticed. What mattered was if Justin noticed. Justin ordered me to bring Chad's bike back to Harrington House, not some random one that merely resembled his.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with any of this Townie nonsense. "Hey!" I called to them. They looked back at me, stopping in their tracks. A strong sense of annoyance washed over me. This was not acceptable. "This isn't the bike you took from us!"

They briefly looked to each other, collectively confused. Then Henry scowled, stepping towards me while leaving the others behind. "Whaddya mean that's not the bike?"

He thought he was intimidating, but he didn't scare me enough to keep my mouth shut. "I mean, this isn't the one you stole from Harrington House! This is not my friend's bike!" He must've been out of his mind to believe he could get away with something like that so easily.

Henry stepped even closer, close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin. I had definitely angered him. "Are you callin' me a liar, Rich Kid? I'm the one who took the damn thing, so I think I know if it's the bike I stole or not!"

"Ooh, you're in trouble now, boy!" Gurney shouted from the background.

Something in his voice translated honesty. It was cold and mean and violent, but somehow sincere underneath all of that. I softened, gazing down at the bike. I did believe him. I didn't want to believe him, because if he were telling the truth, that would mean my reputation was still at risk. But, I did believe him. "Where did you get this from, then?"

"I took it from the school, Kid! Now stop askin' questions."

"Yes, I know that, but from where in the school?"

"Outside the gates. Stupid kids are always leavin' bikes there."

I furrowed my brows. "So you didn't actually enter the campus?"

Henry looked at me as though I were crazy. "I can't go on school grounds, Rich Boy. My parole officer'd kill me!"

So, if that were the case, there was no way Henry could have taken Chad's bike! "Well then... if you didn't take it, who did?"

"Aye!" someone shouted from behind our group. "What's with all the noise?"

"People are tryna sleep," came another.

I could recognize those hideous Italian-American accents anywhere.

I cringed. Damn.