AN: Any sympathy you have at the end of this? HOLD ONTO IT. By the end of October, you're going to need it.
This, unfortunately, is canon. It actually was rather painful to write. It's one thing to rain physical torment down on him. It's quite another to…erm…yeah. Let's say this takes place when he's about…sixteen. I'M SORRY.
SwordStitcher-There never was a rabbit. Yes there was. NO THERE WASN'T. I think it fell apart. He's imagining things. It might still be under the floorboards... THERE WAS NEVER A RABBIT. We should go and see.
Jasmine Scarthing-What? Fangirl? You know how excited I get when Sam stabs Shelob? Yes... That's fangirling. And what purpose does it serve. It's either fangirl, or hug you and babble on until the end of time. You pick. Oh.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-No more... You'll live. They can't get in, anyway. They'll find a way. Who cares? Free screams! Somehow I doubt they'll be screams of terror. They will be. That's what they make bazookas for. I don't want to know. Gimme!
"Jon!"
He doesn't like the nickname. But he'll put up with it from Sherry.
Wait.
Sherry?
Why is she calling him anything besides Scarecrow? There's people around! She only ever calls him Jon if he's helping her study in the library.
He clams up but stops walking to let her catch up. Then it hits him that maybe there's another Jon that she was calling to.
He drops a book-hey, he has to stop for something-and bends down to pick it up.
"Glad I caught you!"
So she was calling to him. Why? Not that he minds or anything.
He never minds.
"Sherry." He doesn't trust himself not to stammer or say something stupid. Best to remain short and to the point. It's probably nothing. There's no reason to act like a fool.
"Look, um…I've been thinking about what you said. About…about Bo." Must remain calm. Must remain calm. Nevermind that the mention of that Neanderthal… "And, um…you were right. That he's not good enough for me."
He's glad that she's finally seen some sense.
"That's good."
"Yeah." She shoots a dirty look at a group of sniggering students a little ways away. "So, I was thinking…um…maybe you'd want to meet me somewhere later?"
Meet
What
Somewhere
Huh?
"Jon?" She waves her hand in front of his face. "What do you think?"
"S-sure." Dammit! He knew it. Every single time he tries to talk to her…thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice. "What time do you…"
"Oh, just meet me…meet by Guster's Pond at eight-thirty. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Great."
She gives him a kiss on the cheek and hurries off to join her friends.
Well? It's eight-thirty…
"Jon!"
He lets out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. Call him paranoid, but he'd been beginning to wonder if she'd set him up for something.
"Sherry."
Why had she wanted to meet him out here, anyway? It's the middle of nowhere!
"You okay?"
"Hm? Yes. Fine."
She laughs and he wonders again why she wanted to meet him out here. He's never particularly liked the pond-she wouldn't know that, though. He can't swim and besides, it looks creepy at night. Like a black portal to somewhere else.
"Don't be so nervous. I don't bite." She leans close to him, her breath in her ear. "Unless you want me to."
What is he supposed to say to that?
"Have you ever kissed a girl, Jon?" He shakes his head, too embarrassed to speak and not knowing where she's going with this. "Would you like to kiss me?"
"Yes?" He doesn't intend for it to come out as a question. She giggles and looks up at him through lowered lashes.
"Close your eyes, then, silly."
"Why?"
"Firsts should be special." she whispers.
She'd know, he guesses. He'll just follow her lead on this. This was not on his list of Things-That-Could-Happen-Tonight.
He feels her take his glasses off-what's she doing, what's that for?-and tuck them into his shirt pocket.
"Your glasses are broken."
"I know."
"Why don't you get new ones?"
"We can't afford them right now."
"Oh."
What's she doing? He doesn't like not being able to see anything. Should he be worried?
He's suddenly grabbed around the middle and thrown bodily into the pond behind him with a loud SPLASH!
What the fuck was this?
He comes up sputtering and grasping at a floating branch that snapped off during the last big storm. He can't see anything, but he can most certainly hear laughter-Bo's laughter.
"How's the water, Scarecrow?"
Don't react. Stay calm. Put glasses on, get out, go home.
Maybe never go back to school EVER AGAIN.
"That's enough, Bo." Sherry says. She's giggling, too. Of course she is. He should have known better.
DAMMIT!
"Did you really think she was serious, Scary?" Bo mocks from the shore. He fumbles for his glasses and finds them where She put them. "Christ! Should've seen the look on your face…"
He doubles over in laughter. He puts his glasses on and eyes the distance between him and the shore. He can probably touch bottom a foot or so away. He should be able to dog-paddle that far.
Right?
"Come on, Bo." Sherry says, forcing herself to put on a straight face.
They leave and he slumps over the log, not motivated to try for the shore right now. If he's lucky, he'll drown here. Then they'd be sorry. They'd all be sorry.
He'll have to try for it. Granny will know he's been out now, and she'll be especially mad if he comes in at midnight or something. Besides, he's cold-the water has seeped into his clothes. He can feel pond scum on his skin.
He makes it to shore, coughing and sputtering, and flops face down in the grass. He should have known better.
He will know better from now on. He can't trust her. He can't trust any of them.
But he won't be at school tomorrow. He'll be staying home if he has to play hooky.
THE END