Though she avoided it for as long as possible, Kim knew she would be dragged into this place eventually.
The room was exactly the same as it'd been last year. Behind his impeccably neat desk, the walls were covered in numerous academic awards and large stencils of trees. Or olive branches? Hm. Lindsay would know, she thought.
"Well hello, Kim Kelly!" Mr. Rosso said with his usual enthusiasm, sitting on his desk. His brown dress suit looked freshly bought and his long hair only slightly trimmed. "It's been a long time since we've seen you on this here side of town."
Kim slumped in her chair. "Hi, Mr. Rosso," she replied shortly.
"I heard You Love Playing With Fire," he told her, raising his eyebrows.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, you don't know?" he said dramatically, revving up for one of his bizarre lectures. "Being a member of The Runaways and all, I thought you would."
Kim stared at him, stunned. Mostly because he knew about her home life, but partly because he made a somewhat recent pop culture reference.
"That's right, I know all about you flying the coop. Do you want to know why we're talking about it?" He paused for a second. "Because I care, Kim. I care. And I don't want you to get burned."
"Who told you?" she said defensively.
"Let's just say a little birdie told me—"
"Was it Frank?" She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head in anger. "God, I'm gonna tear his head off and use it for dodgeball in gym. I swear."
"Noo," Mr. Rosso stretched out the word, a bit perplexed. "Frank who?"
"Frank Evans."
"Oh, Frank!" His face lit up and he smiled. "Great kid, that one is. Destined for big things. But no, he didn't tell me."
"Then who?" she pressed.
"I overheard you talking about it to Claudia Diaz by the vending machines," he explained. "You have a very distinct speaking voice, if I may say so myself. Loud. Passionate. Good for announcing. Or singing!" he added with approval, pointing at her.
She cut to the chase. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
"No, Kim. What are you going to do about it?" He folded his hands. "That is the million dollar question."
"Nothing." she said hotly. "Look, I'm living at Frank's. His family is super nice so I guess I'll, like, stay there until they kick me out or something."
Mr. Rosso processed the information, pulling strange expressions, and then asked, "And what does everyone's favorite cool guy Mr. Daniel Desario think about that?"
"I don't know, " she said irritably. "We're not really talking. You'd have to ask him." Kim shrugged. "But don't ask him," she added quickly. "Don't. Please."
"Alright, here's what I think, Kim," he started with purpose. "Running away is bad news bears. I once ran away, you know. Yes, I did. From my dad. I was six years old, and my father refused to buy me a bag of Skittles at the corner store. So I ran away. We went home, and I hopped on my little tricycle and pedaled off into the sunset. When I got to the end of the street, guess who I ran into? The neighborhood bully. You know what he did? He knocked me to the pavement and gave me an atomic wedgie I can still smell to this very day. Because I urinated myself in fear."
Kim wrinkled her face.
"So I hopped back on my trikie and biked back to my house. My old man was waiting for me at the door. And you know what he did?" he paused, building suspense. "He spread out his arms, like this, and he gave me a big ol' hug."
She continued to stare at him.
"What I'm trying to say, Kim, is that running away is not a good thing. But it can be better than going back for some people, you see. If you returned home, would your dad give you a hug?"
He'd probably belt me, she wanted to say.
"No," she said gravely. "He wouldn't."
"And that's why I'm not going to tell your parents," he promised, giving her a reassuring smile. She released a held breath. "Frank is a good guy. Excellent taste in music, too. So I'm going to let this play out. But I will ask you to send him into my office here so we have a little talk. No big deal! I just want to catch up."
Kim nodded, unable to think. "Is that all?"
"Unless there's anything else you wanted to talk about," he offered kindly.
"No, I don't." She shuffled out of her chair. "But thanks, Mr. Rosso. For, y'know, not telling my parents. Oh, and the...story."
"Kim, if you ever need help I'm around the corner."
"Yeah, I know." She stopped in front of him before leaving. "Thanks."
Kim practically dashed out of the room. For a moment there she thought it was all over. It sucked being vulnerable and put into a position like that. But Mr. Rosso really saved her ass. She exited the counselor's offices feeling shaken, but oddly safer.
Sipping her Coke, Kim wandered through the cafeteria. She stopped off briefly at Frank and Laurie's table, which had become a habit of hers.
"Hey, what's up?"
"I saw a squirrel sitting in a tree last period," Laurie answered happily. "It was so cute, the cutest thing ever."
Kim laughed and gave the girl's seat a light nudge with her hip. "Hey, Frank. Mr. Rosso's looking for ya," she warned him, "so lay low."
He just chuckled his friendly laugh. "I can handle him. Don't worry about it."
She shrugged, but spared him a small parting smile. "Alright, your waste of time."
He shook his head to disagree, but Kim was already off and heading to the usual table. The gang was all there, and no clingy girlfriends were crowding up the seats. Thank God. Amy wasn't that bad, but Sara's non-stop perkiness was grating.
There was an open space near Daniel, but she took an extra chair from another table and jammed it between Lindsay and Nick. She couldn't deal with their awkwardness when they sat by each other. And sitting with Daniel would be even more awkward.
"What?" she demanded when she noticed they were all watching her, silently. She slammed down her plastic glass.
"Have a nice chat?" Ken deadpanned, looking over the tables behind her.
"What do hippies even talk about, man?" asked Nick. "Tie-dying shirts? Badgers?"
"I dunno," Daniel mumbled, stuffing another Sno Ball in his mouth. "Hippie stuff." He swallowed, then licked his finger clean." Hey, you know why hippies wave their arms around when they dance?"
"No, man, why?"
Daniel grinned. "To keep the music out of their eyes." He mimicked the action, like he was having a bad trip.
The guys broke out laughing and Kim almost did too, until she saw the smug look on Daniel's annoyingly handsome face.
Lindsay seemed confused (she obviously didn't get the joke since she knew nothing about acid) but jumped in to defend them anyways. "Hey, lay off. Laurie and Frank are nice. Unlike you jerks."
"Who cares if someone is nice if they don't use soap?" Ken quipped.
Lindsay looked ticked.
Kim rolled her eyes, and sourly said, "They use soap, doofus. Do you?"
"Yeah, we do," said Ken, "and you wanna know why?" He turned to Daniel.
"Because we're not hippies," Daniel replied in-sync, sharing a grin with his friend. "We don't get our kicks rolling around in mud like a buncha stoned out farm animals." He finished off his point by making a mooing sound.
"You really lived out of a Scooby Doo van, Kim?" Nick asked, laughing. "I didn't think you'd, uh, go along with that since, y'know, you're always wasting time filing your nails and, um, stuff."
"Oh, yeah, you're the one to talk," she replied, frowning and twirling her straw. "Don't you have to run off and practice your routine to Disco Duck?"
Ken and Daniel snickered. Nick took notice and reached over the table with his long arms, trying to land a few solid punches. His broad body clumsily knocked over some food, right into the girls' laps and onto the floor. He managed to get them each on the shoulder, but they retaliated quickly and soon fists were flying everywhere.
"God, watch it, Daniel! You almost hit me!" Kim shouted angrily, wanting to smack someone herself. Guys are so stupid.
When he nearly punched her again, trying to get Nick, he grazed her bruised arm and she accidentally bit down on her tongue. Kim cursed loudly, and shoved the table's edge into Daniel and Ken's chests.
"What the fuck, Kim!" Daniel shouted back, wrapping his arms around his body. "Are you on your period or somethin'?"
"You're lucky I'm not pregnant," Ken drawled, gasping.
"I said watch it!" she snarled.
Nick glanced at her. "Kim, that wasn't cool. You really coulda hurt them."
"Can you all stop fighting for five minutes?" Lindsay cut in sharply. Kim knew her best friend was sick of the constant bickering as of late, so she held back from dumping the rest of her pop on the guys' heads.
When they all cooled down, Lindsay continued, saying, "Things have changed. So what?"
"Yeah, I'll say," Ken said with a glint in his eye, rubbing his chest. "First Nick decides to get involved in that boogie nights bullshit. Then Daniel became a basement dweller who fights orcs in his free time. You're a math nerd, again. And now Kim is living in a hippie tent, with actual live hippies." He looked at them incredulously. "What the hell is happening to you people? Are you all that depressed with your lives?"
Protests rang out across the table, drowning each other out.
"Hey, man, I'm just really good at dancing. Everyone needs to get over it."
"We don't play in the basement. We play in the dining room. Augh, you wouldn't get it."
"Oh, c'mon, I only meet for Mathletes once in a while and sometimes we get free pizza."
"And Frank's family doesn't live in a tent, bonehead. So just shut up already."
"What, and your life is perfect, man?" Daniel challenged him, raising an eyebrow.
"Compared to your sucky ones?" Ken said, amused by the disorder he caused. "Don't look at me, you're the one who said it."
"We all have stuff to do, that's all," Lindsay said sensibly. "I mean, we're all the same, only...different."
"Really," Kim told them, "you guys are basically the same losers you were when I skipped town. Man, it was good to get outta here..." she trailed off, resting her face in her palm.
"So why come back?" said a low voice.
The intensity in Daniel's dark eyes jolted her into silence. He had been ignoring her for the most part, playing it cool and disinterested. She was starting to think he'd never directly talk to her ever again.
"Because I had to," she reasoned. Kim smoothed her hair, self-consciously. "Y'know, school and stuff. Going places and meeting people was rad, but it wasn't really my scene. I wasn't about to ditch everything to become a deadhead. And I..." She shifted in her chair, breaking eye contact. "And, yeah. It just wasn't my scene. That's all."
Her friends threw each other knowing looks.
"Aww," Ken drew out mockingly, "you missed us."
"We missed you too, Kimmie." Nick jumped in with a playful smile, nudging her arm too hard.
"Of course you missed me," Daniel said with a smirk, looking genuinely pleased. "I'm the freakin highlight of your life."
"We're glad you're back too, Kim," Lindsay added in a teasing tone.
Kim huffed and stabbed her straw into her cup. "You guys all suck."
"That's what you say," Ken said. "But we all know what lies beneath that calloused heart of yours. And it's love. Mushy ooey gooey love."
"Ugh, shut up. Seriously. You're all driving me insane."
"Hey, let's all hang out after school," Nick said after a while, determined to make it happen. "C'mon guys, we need to do something together and get back to before. Let's screw around the basketball court. What do you guys say?"
Ken replied first. "Amy wants me to wait for her after practice, then we'll meet you. And before anyone asks, because I know one of you assholes will, she's not bringing her tuba with her. There, I'm glad we sorted that out."
"Yeah, I gotta do something too," Daniel said, looking a bit shifty. "But I might swing by after."
Kim stole a look at Daniel. "The basketball court?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "No, thanks. I heard that's where sluts go to suck face with scum." He avoided her gaze. "I'm busy later, so don't hold your breath."
An uncomfortable moment passed before Nick broke it.
"Well then, I guess Lindsay's not coming either," he said, half-joking.
"Wait, why not?" Lindsay questioned.
"Oh, because you're not a, um," he gestured at Kim, recalling her previous comment. "Y'know."
"Um, thanks, Nick..."
The bell rang, ending lunch in one of the rare times she was glad it was over.
After-school detention was always a full house during the first month. It was mostly filled with kids who were chosen to be made into examples of by fed up teachers and power crazed staff members.
Kim's history teacher was a real hardass and actually gave her a detention for cutting. So here she was on a Friday afternoon instead of reluctantly joining her friends at the basketball court. It was wonder none of them had detention too.
She searched the crowded room for a familiar face (there were lots of them, but none she wanted to see) until she spotted a long, curly mop of hair framing a boy's zoned-out expression.
"Hey," she said quietly once she got close.
Stroker nodded back and scooted over to make room.
"Ms. Kelly, you are not here to talk," Mr. Botwinick interrupted, not bothering to look up from his rolled magazine. "The rules have not changed since the last time you sat detention. And with the number of times you've served it, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what those rules are."
A few kids snickered.
"Good to know," she said flippantly, plopping down in her broken chair. Asshole. Stroker rolled his eyes in solidarity.
It was hot as hell in the classroom with everyone packed together like sardines. The windows were barely cracked, but there was a small fan in the room sitting on Mr. Botwinick's desk—blowing in the direction of the middle-aged man.
Ten minutes passed by maddeningly slow. Her leg was thumping and she was daydreaming about the open skies she'd seen when they passed through Texas. It was the closest she ever imagined Heaven would look like, like it was completely untouchable.
Beside her, Stroker pulled out a piece of wrinkled notebook paper and started writing something. When he finished, he tapped her hand with his chewed-up pencil. She glanced down.
party at my pad tomorrow night. tell Daniel to bring beer.
Kim deciphered his chicken scratch, then replied with her own messy handwriting.
why
He looked at her like she grew an extra head.
because we need beer? u baked?
no. I'm not Daniel's bitch. you tell him.
but ur his gf...just do it dude
we broke up.
so? get back together
we split the day I left town and we're not dating again. ever.
really?
yeah.
really?
He snatched it back before she could respond.
really? he underlined darkly, scratching noisily.
Kim tore the paper away and wrote like she was carving in stone.
are you stupid? WE'RE DONE SO GO TELL HIM YOURSELF DUMBAS
"Mr. Soong and Ms. Kelly," Mr. Botwinick said sternly in a booming voice.
"Sup?" Stroker replied casually, lifting up his chin.
Kim went to tear up the piece of paper, but it was too late.
"Come to the front of the class and bring your note. And if you ruin it, you'll regret it for the rest of your high school days."
They walked up together, as if they were being sentenced to death row. The people in class laid back and watched the show, enjoying the break in monotony.
Mr. Botwinick slapped down his magazine. "Read it," he ordered, pointing to the paper.
"No," Kim protested loudly.
"Give me one good reason not to."
"It's a...umm, a love letter." Stroker grinned, clearly impressed with his own improv skills.
The whole class perked up at his remark.
Great, that was just what she needed. Something else to add to the rumors about Frank and her. She was becoming known as the biggest whore at McKinley. But it was either go with it or get busted.
"Please don't read it, Mr. Botwinick. It's embarrassing." Kim flashed a sweet smile, trying her best to look girlishly shy. It didn't suit her at all, but the idiot actually bought it.
"I won't read it," he said firmly. "but I will see both of you in detention Monday afternoon. And you won't be sitting together. Understood?"
Stroker looked relieved, like he couldn't believe it worked. Neither could she, to be honest. "Thanks, that's really cool of you, man."
"Go back to your seats," he commanded, unsmiling.
"Alright!" Stroker whispered from excitement, nudging her sore stomach with his elbow. Kim glared at him.
"Do you think you two can restrain yourselves until time is up, or will I have to separate you lovebirds?" the teacher threatened.
Kim shoved him toward their table. "We'll deal, Mr. Botwinick."
"We'll see, Ms. Kelly," he corrected, like it was the cleverest thing ever said.
God, what an asshole.
Stroker gave her a silent, probing look that undeniably said, "Tell Daniel."
Kim nodded, rolling her eyes in defeat.
The basketball court was deserted by the time she passed it. So instead, she drove around until it was dark, wasting away the rest of her Friday. Sometimes it was good to be alone. She could sing as loud as she wanted to with the radio and no one ever told her to shut up. It was easier to think too, and she should probably be doing that more often.
On her way back to Frank's, she spotted a pay phone by a gas station and pulled over. Kim dug a few coins out of her pockets and made a call. Kicking the dirt, she waited impatiently for someone to pick up.
"Hello," answered a weary, feminine voice.
Kim's tongue suddenly felt swollen. "Hi."
The voice sighed on the other end. "Who is this?"
"It's me, Kim. Kim Kelly. I'm Daniel's...I know Daniel." She felt weird calling his house. It was something that she did very, very rarely. "Hi, Mrs. Desario."
"Kim? Oh, that Kim. You want to talk to Daniel?"
"Yeah, I mean, yes. I'm sorry about calling. I know Daniel's dad, um, your husband needs sleep, but I have to tell him something for Geometry."
She paused. "It's fine. My husband is hospitalized at the moment so you didn't bother us."
Kim's jaw went slack. She had no idea he was in the hospital. Nobody told her that. "Mrs. Desario...I'm sorry. For everything."
Why didn't anyone tell me?
"It's been difficult, but we're getting by," she forced out. The slight choke in the woman's voice made Kim regret the whole thing. "Hold on a second."
Kim nervously bit her nails while waiting. She hadn't done that in years. Why didn't anyone tell her? Damn Stroker, this is all that bonehead's fault. Making Daniel's poor mom cry. And now it's on me.
"What?" Daniel fired. The raucous sound in her ear almost made her drop the phone. The annoyance in his tone irritated her, but she pushed it aside.
"Is your mom gonna listen on the other line?" Kim answered instantly. Her mom spied on her, though Mrs. Desario seemed too distracted.
"Nah, she wouldn't bother. 'Sides we sold the other phone." He paused for a beat. "So you just called to hear my voice or what?"
"Oh, right. Stroker's having a party tomorrow, y'know. At his."
"Yeah?" He sounded tired, but the mention of a party brightened his dark mood. "It's about time he had one, this week's been boring as all hell. Nick and I were gonna go get some stink bombs and liven up the place."
Kim laughed. "Throw one in Mr. Botwinick's room for me, willya?"
"Detention already?" She could hear him smirking through the phone. "My, my. Really changin' it up this year, Blondie."
She was grinning. "Whatever. Like you haven't spent all week there."
"Only twice," he bragged.
"That a new record or something?" she teased. Kim was enjoying the outcome of their conversation. It was like how it used to be, natural as breathing.
"Or something," he replied, and then quickly added, "You gonna go?"
"To the party? Yeah, why not?"
"I'll seeya tomorrow then."
"Yeah, see y—Oh! I almost forgot. Hello? H-hey. Stroker needs you to bring beer."
"I shoulda known," he sighed. "How much does the idiot need?"
"I dunno. Enough to get me another detention for writing notes."
"Ah, that sucks," he consoled her. "I'm always telling him not to write so freaking loud."
She swallowed her response.
"Anyways," Daniel continued, "I'll call up the guys and let 'em know."
"I already talked to Linds so she's in."
"Alright, cool."
A moment built between them until Kim spoke up. She felt a rush of feelings, old and new, over pour at once.
"Daniel..."
"I gotta go—"
"I'm sorry about your dad," she blurted. "And for your mom. And your brother. And you. I'm so sorry. If you ever want to, I don't know, talk or something...I'm here. Ok? Listen, I'm still your friend, got it? So don't shut me out."
There was silence on the other end.
"Bye, Kim," he said softly, and hung up.
She slammed the phone back in place. Dammit...
Would things ever get back to normal? She tried not to think about it too much on her drive back.