Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over Newsies; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:Updates may (and probably will be) slow.
This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: 'Tis a Tale Worth Telling (Yep, that's right, a got myself a Beta. Go on, admire her all you like, but no touching; she's mine.)

Summary of Chapter 16:
-Bam punches someone, Gadget crashes a car, Hunter fails to walk on walls, Slingshot tries to sleep, and Spot smiles while thinking about Racetrack
-Dutchy and Bumlets decide to be fake boyfriends and fuck buddies
-Racetrack goes to rehab
-Sarah gets David to talk about why he punched Specs
-Itey spends the day with Mush
-Skittery spends the day with Blink
-Rambler creeps Racetrack out
-Spot tells Racetrack a bit about his older brother/neighbor (his first kill)
-Dutchy finally realized that he spent the night at Bumlets' house without telling his parents
-Jack spends the night with Spot

Getting Back Together Again
XVII: This Is Getting Fucking Hard

Bumlets woke up and stumbled into his kitchen. He saw Dutchy sitting at the kitchen table just like any other school day. "So I guess I can assume everything went okay with your parents."

"Uh … better than I thought … I guess? Yeah, I guess. I told them about us … in the I-have-a-boyfriend way … as opposed to the … um … I-have-a-fuck-buddy-now kind of way," Dutchy told him. "I left out tons of details and everything, but still-"

"They aren't going to help us plan the wedding." Bumlets nodded. "It's not like I'm all that surprised. The fact that you seem to be in one piece is shocking enough."

"Well, I … My parents decided that they'd let me stay at home until I'm eighteen. I think it's their way of easing the guilt of sending their own son off to fend for himself. It's not a huge deal, I guess. I mean, I already pretty much decided to move out when I turned into a legal adult, so … Of course, the next month's going to be a bitch; my parents will probably try their hardest to convince me that being a fag is wrong."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Dutch. I shouldn't've-"

Dutchy waved it away. "Stop getting your guilt all over me. It's fine. I swear."

Bumlets raised his eyebrows.

"Er, okay, so it's not all that fine, but it's not all that awful either, you know. I was going to be moving out anyway, right? And, really, my parents have tried to convince me all gays are going to hell for years now. It's not really all that big of a change. Plus, it's going to be less than a month. I'd be ashamed of myself if I couldn't deal."

"You have any idea where you're going to move? Because you know you can always stay here, right? Hell, I let Jack sleep over all the time and I hate him."

Dutchy smiled. "Thanks. I might take you up on that. I'll definitely have to start looking for a job, though. I'm not really looking forward to actually having to go to work on top of school, but I need to get money somehow. I really doubt my parents plan to help out at all after I'm legally not their responsibility."

"That's, like … responsible and shit of you, Dutch," Bumlets realized with some pride. "I can get on board with that."

"What? Me being responsible or getting a job?" Dutchy asked with a chuckle.

"Both, actually."

Dutchy practically beamed. "Are you saying you'll look around for a job with me?"

Bumlets smiled back and shrugged. "Yeah, man. I can't let you take my place as the responsible one in the group, can I? That'd mean that I was the stupid and naïve one."

"Hey! I'm not stupid and naïve!" Dutchy argued.

Bumlets laughed. "I'm taking a shower. You want to make breakfast?"

"I'd rather take a shower with you. I didn't get a chance to this morning; I rushed out of the house as fast as I could to avoid my parents. Plus, I haven't had sex in, like, fifteen hours."

"I can't believe I made you into a sex addict in less than two days," Bumlets replied with a smile. "Alright, Sexy, let's go, but you're the one that has to explain to Skittery and Itey why they aren't eating this morning."

"We'll just go through a drive-thru or something," Dutchy brushed off, already heading into the bathroom. "Are you coming? Let's go. I want some sex."

"Come on," Blink ordered, pushing Skittery off of him. He had somehow found his way onto Blink's chest again. "We have school and I still need to shower and shit."

Skittery didn't even bother opening his eyes. "Is that figuratively or literally?"

"You're disgusting." Blink rolled his eye in exasperation "Now get the hell up. We have to stop by your house to get your stuff for school and you need to change and … Fuck, we're going to be late."

Skittery blinked a few times before opening his eyes fully. "'Fuck'? Did you just say 'fuck'? Why, Blinky-kins, I do believe I'm rubbing off on you. This is…" He faked a sniffle. "This is such a proud moment for me."

"Stop talking and get off me," Blink ordered, trying to shove Skittery away from him.

"Jesus, you sure are a bitchy bastard in the mornings," Skittery muttered loud enough for Blink to hear. He finally rolled off of him to lie on his back. "Or is that just me rubbing off on you more? Speaking of rubbing off-"

"No sex jokes. I'm not a morning person. Plus, I had to deal with all your ridiculous euphemisms the entire weekend. It's starting to get pretty old."

"Are they starting to turn you on too much?"

"They're starting to be a pain in my ass."

"I'd like to be a pain in your ass," Skittery flirted.

"Stop it," Blink snapped as he flipped his covers off and got up.

Skittery moved so he was lying on his stomach and taking up both sides of the bed. He looked up at Blink and smirked. "Relax, I wouldn't really fuck you. Well, I would, but you so clearly have a thing going on with Mush."

"I don't have a thing going on with Mush," Blink denied, clearly confused.

Skittery snorted. "Oh, you so do. Just because you're completely oblivious-"

"Mush isn't even gay, and we're best friends, and I think of him like a brother, and … and I just don't think about him like that … like … at all."

"Yeah, and I'm sure all of those reasons can convince other people, but I'm different because..."

17

"…Because I've had my best friend become my lover … er … fuck buddy …" Itey shook his head a bit. "Well, titles don't matter all that much. The point is: I've been there. Hell, I was just like you. I wasn't even the least bit gay until I fell for Skittery."

"It's not like that with me and Blink," Mush tried to explain. "We're just friends."

"Right, and if you made a move on him that would mean you wouldn't be friends anymore, and you don't want to lose that," Itey continued hurriedly for him. "I know. The same argument went through my head hundreds of times. Hell, if Skittery wasn't so … so completely compulsive … if he hadn't've straddled my lap and started making out with me while I was on a date … well, there's no way we would have ever gone out."

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this right now," Mush gently suggested. "I'm sure Skittery is still a sore spot for you. Plus, we need to go to your house to pick up clothes and your backpack and-"

"You think you have a reason why my going out with Skittery was a bad idea," Itey observed. "Go ahead and tell me. This weekend did me good, I swear. I need to be able to deal with all of this before I see Skittery again, anyway, right? I have to get used to the idea of us not … er … doing whatever it was we were doing."

Mush shifted uncomfortably. "It's just … you really did completely lose Skittery, didn't you? I mean, you're not going to be able to go back to being friends with him when this whole thing is over, are you? Sure, you'll try, but … really … do you think you'll be as close as you used to be?"

Itey frowned. "Since when did you become so pessimistic?" He sighed and thought about it for a few seconds. "You know how people say that they'd want a lover or nothing at all? I mean … they break up with someone and they won't just be friends with them because they love them too much to bear it? Well, with Skittery … I love him so much that I want him in my life no matter what. Sure, it'll be painful being just friends, but … I couldn't have him just disappear … he's too much a part of my life."

Mush nodded, deep in thought.

"Anyway," Itey said, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door, "I'm going to go have a smoke. I'll be waiting outside for you so we can swing by my house before school, 'kay? You got five minutes before I hot wire your car and leave without you."

Mush nodded again, still distracted.

"Get the fuck up," Hunter shouted at Jack, who was busy trying to sleep on one of Spot's completely ruined couches. "Jesus Christ and a fucking monkey," he muttered to himself. "How does Spot find all these bitches? And why the hell do I have to take care of them all?"

"I never asked you to wake Jack," Spot pointed out from behind him.

Hunter immediately jumped. "Holy hell on a stick! Don't sneak up on someone like that, man! Jesus, are you trying to kill me? Know what? Don't answer that."

Spot raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell are you in my room trying to wake Jack?"

"Just heard you brought another one of your bitches over here, and I got curious," Hunter replied, crossing his arms.

Spot glared dangerously. "I thought we took care of this."

"Oh, wait a fucking minute," Jack interrupted, blinking and pulling himself up a bit so he rested on his elbow. "I am not Sean's bitch."

"Shut the hell up, you cunt," Hunter demanded. "This isn't about you."

"You were just talking about me, you idiot, therefore it is about me. And, I am not Sean's bitch." He finally got up in order to face Hunter head-on.

"Oh, yeah? I'm not all that sure I believe that shit," Hunter retorted. "How hard did he fuck you last night? Did you scream for more, you little slut?"

"Are you trying to make me kick your ass?" Jack growled, clenching his fists.

Hunter confidently smirked back at him. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, bitch. You couldn't kick my ass even if I didn't have Spot's help."

"What the fuck kind of name is 'Spot'?" Jack asked. "He sounds like a pussy to me. Listen, you and your little friend can try all you want; I'll take you both down."

"Is that a fact, bottom boy? You definitely don't know who you're messing with, do you?" Hunter shot back.

"Both of you shut the hell up," Spot ordered before turning to Hunter. "Do we have a problem here, Hunt? I'm pretty sure I warned you about this before. You want to take it to the next step?"

Hunter glared a bit before backing off. "There's no problem … sir."

"Then get the fuck out of here and make sure not to bring it up again. You're starting to become too much of a hassle," Spot replied with a warning tone before Hunter bowed his head and left. Spot then rounded towards Jack. "And you, stop fucking picking fights you can't win."

"I could've taken that pussy and his little friend," Jack declared.

"His 'little friend' was me, you idiot," Spot told him, "and I'm pretty fucking sure you already proved that you can't take me. Now get the fuck in the shower while I find you some clothes."

"Hey, just so we're clear … I'm not your bitch," Jack announced, glaring. "The rest of these morons may listen to you, but I won't. Got it?"

"Listen, Jacky-boy, because perhaps I didn't make it clear enough last night: as long as you're staying here, you are my bitch. Feel free to leave whenever you want, though. I'll be happy to get rid of you," Spot replied. "Now get in the fucking shower while I find you some god damned clothes."

When Bumlets and Dutchy finally got to school they found Itey already smoking along their wall.

"Thanks for making me drive my heaping pile of trash to school," Bumlets greeted. "I thought it was going to explode on me when I started going over thirty."

"Oh, dear. You had to actually drive your own car? Poor, poor you."

Bumlets decided to ignore his friend's pissy attitude. "Why'd you just leave us like that? We were just standing around waiting for you. You couldn't have called to tell us you weren't picking us up? I don't understand how you could have forgotten; you've been driving us to school since you got your license last year."

Itey shrugged, clearly apathetic. "You should be glad I even let you two fucking cunt suckers into my car."

Dutchy looked smug. "Actually, I can officially say that I'm a cock sucker now."

Itey looked confused for a second. "Seriously? You and Sean? I don't believe it. Are you sure it wasn't just some super-obsessive dream? You've had them before."

"It wasn't Sean, and it definitely wasn't a dream," Dutchy corrected happily. "Bumlets and I are going out now." He smiled smugly before reaching over and grabbing the other boy's hand.

Bumlets just nodded as Itey rounded onto to him.

"Well, slap my ass and make me cry. No shit?" Itey asked with a small smile. "You finally accepted your gayness, Bumlets? Wait until Skittery hears; he'll be-" He faltered for a few seconds when he realized yet again that he and Skittery were no longer going out. "… He'll be … you know … happy … and stuff."

"Where is Skittery?" Bumlets finally asked. He looked around in slight confusion. "Didn't he come with you?"

Itey shrugged, trying his best not to act worried.

"Shit. So you still think he's at home?" Bumlets asked.

"He didn't come to your house like usual," Dutchy pointed out. "Maybe he got a ride?"

Suddenly Skittery came around the corner. "Hey, fuckers. You miss me?"

Itey nodded to him, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to his friend anymore and it beyond sucked.

"How'd you get here?" Dutchy asked. He idly started swinging the hand holding onto Bumlets.

"Got a ride with Blink." Skittery looked at the interlocking hands of Bumlets and Dutchy. "So what the hell is up with you two?"

"Okay, so, are you ready for this?" Itey burst in, trying his best to get back on familiar ground. "Bumlets … okay? Bumlets has helped our little Dutchy become a real, live cock sucker."

"Holy shit, seriously?" Skittery responded, pretty much bouncing up and down in glee. "Bumlets, you're gay now? HA! I totally fucking called that one. I must admit, though … you getting together with Dutchy of all people? That's coming off as more of a surprise. But really, we should've seen it coming. I mean, Jesus Christ above, Bumlets has been about the only person Dutchy hasn't fallen for yet … er … hadn't fallen for, I guess it should be. Past tense and everything, right?"

"Yep, our little Duchty-kins has finally landed a man," Itey said. "I'm so proud."

"Hey, who bottomed?" Skittery asked excitedly. "Please, please, please tell me it was Bumlets."

Bumlets rolled his eyes, not looking all that amused. "Sorry to crush your happiness," he apologized, "but Dutchy was the one that bottomed."

"Each and every single time," Dutchy backed up proudly.

Skittery sighed in disappointment. "Ah, well, I guess a man can't have everything he wants. Still, it would have been pretty great."

"Hey," Itey interrupted. "What the hell is that?" He jerked his head in the direction of Sean's motorcycle, bringing everyone's attention to the fact that Jack was on the back. "When did those two become friends and why did I miss it? Weren't they beating the shit out of each other on Friday?"

"You think Jack spent the night at Sean's?" Dutchy asked.

"I think that's fucking obvious, Dutch," Skittery answered. "The real question is 'Why the fuck did he go to Sean's?' I would've bet twenty bucks he ended up at fucking Swifty's house."

"Why won't you let me drive your motorcycle?" they heard Jack ask as he and Sean got closer to them.

Sean pulled out his pack of cigarettes and took one out of the box, then lit up. "You'd fucking crash it, that's why."

"It was such a rush just to ride it," Jack gushed. "Let me drive it around for a couple of blocks and I'll bring it right back, I swear."

"You don't even know how to fucking drive a motorcycle." Spot took a hit off his cigarette before blowing the smoke in Jack's face. "You kept asking where the gas and shit was."

Jack scrunched his nose at the smoke, but didn't say anything about it. "So you can teach me. I'm sure it's not all that hard," he wheedled. "Come on. Just once around the school. I'll even fucking drive it in the parking lot if you're that protective of your precious bike."

"So when the fuck did this happen?" Skittery asked, interrupting their argument.

"When did what happen?" Sean replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Since when did you become friends with Jack?" Itey rephrased for his fu- … er … fri- … ah … for Skittery.

"Since never," Sean answered. He smirked. "Jacky here's my bitch."

"I am fucking not."

"Oh? Does that mean you've rethought the whole bed thing?" Sean inquired smugly.

Jack clenched both his fists. "I don't even have a fucking bed, you bastard. I have some ratty old couch that belonged in a trash heap years ago."

"So it's kind of like you, then," Skittery interrupted.

Jack just glared at him.

"Just what the hell am I supposed to do next Sunday when I have to go back?" Racetrack asked Sean as soon as he saw him in first period. "There's no fucking way I'm going to deal with that fucking maniac on a regular basis."

Sean rolled his eyes. "He's not going to rape you or anything, you know. Calm the fuck down."

"This is all your fucking fault!" Racetrack practically growled. "I asked you to help me, not make things worse."

"You said you'd do anything," Sean reminded him with a calm smirk. "Stupid me for assuming you actually meant that. I guess you just don't have the balls to back up that big mouth of yours."

"I said that I'd do anything in order to see Mush and Blink again," Racetrack hissed loudly, causing a few of his classmates' heads to glance toward him. "Have you seen me talking to them recently? You haven't fucking delivered, Sean. I don't even know if you actually will."

Spot glared while still making sure he held himself at ease. "I have no problem 'delivering'," he assured him. "It's you backing out of the deal that I'm worried about. If you can't even stand to do this much then there's no way I'm going to get any use out of you."

"Don't fucking talk about me like I'm some fucking tool, Sean!" Racetrack shouted, punching Spot on the side of his jaw and quickly drawing the attention of everyone else in the classroom.

Sean stumbled back both from the hit and from shock. This was … not the reaction he had expected. He felt the bruise, still in slight shock. The motherfucker actually fucking hurt.

Racetrack tensed, his fists clenched together. "And what are you trying to do exactly? Are you trying to test me? Is that it? See how far I'll go until I snap? You can't just fuck around with my life and expect to get away with it! I told you to fucking help, not control everything. What the hell is-"

Spot finally interrupted him by punching Racetrack in the side of the face.

Disbelief appeared across Racetrack's face as the momentum forced him to take a few steps back in order to remain standing. He couldn't remember the last time someone had actually punched him.

"You punched me," Racetrack said, seemingly lost in a daze. "I can't believe you just fucking punched me."

"You punched me first."

"Only because you were being a bitch."

Sean stared in confusion for a minute. "Did … did you just … What the hell would make you think that calling me a bitch was anything other than a really bad idea?"

Racetrack slumped his shoulders, losing a bit of his steam. "Um … I think that'd be my affinity for talking before thinking about what I'm going to say first," he answered honestly. "People usually get pissed about it, but I've never gotten fucking punched before."

"How the fuck could you expect me not to punch you?" Sean asked. "You're-"

"Why is no one in their seats?" the teacher interrupted, finally striding into the classroom. "The late bell rang a good ten minutes ago. Just because I'm not here doesn't mean that you can just ignore it. Anthony? Sean? Let's go. Get seated."

Racetrack did as was demanded. Spot soon followed suit, all the while thinking about how awesome it would be to kill his teacher. He thought a meat cleaver might be a good weapon of choice. He wondered if he had any lying around at home.

"What happened to your faces?" the teacher asked as soon as she saw the bruises. She frowned at them, already assuming they had fought.

"We bumped into each other," Racetrack lied, even managing to look ashamed. "It's not a big deal."

Spot remained quiet as he touched the bruise on his face. He tried to frown in displeasure, but for some reason his expression magically softened instead. He should have been pissed off as hell, but he just felt some sort of weird sense of pride for Racetrack.

What the fuck was wrong with him lately?

"What's up with you and Itey?" Bumlets asked Skittery as soon as they met in their second period English class.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Skittery replied defensively before sitting down. "There's nothing going on."

Bumlets shot his friend a knowing look. "Do you think I'm that stupid? The fact that you two weren't all over each other this morning tells me something's up. Fuck, the fact that you hardly made fun of me for sleeping with Dutchy is another big ass hint."

"What the fuck is with that, anyway? You and Dutchy? Are you serious? If you want to experiment with some boys, I'm more than willing to help out. You know Dutchy's only going to get clingy and shit." Skittery smirked. "And I think you already know how great I can make it for you. Itey's never given me anything other than compliments."

"I've got my 'gay' situation under control, thanks. Don't change the fucking subject … And don't flirt with me; it's creepy. What's going on with you and Itey? You two have a fight or something?"

"Since when do you openly request to hear about other people's problems?" Skittery retorted. "What the fuck's going on with you? Just because you're sleeping with guys on a regular basis now doesn't give you the excuse to act like a fucking girl."

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you don't want to tell me, you don't fucking have to. It'd probably be annoying and uncomfortable for me anyway. I don't know why I bothered."

Skittery sighed. "Dude, there's just so much shit going on right now … I don't even know where to start. Shit, when did things start becoming so fucking complicated? First, I find out fucking Sean's some kind of gang leader or something just as bad," he started to rant. "Then, fucking Itey tells me he loves me, so there's no way we'll be fucking anytime soon. And … and I keep feeling like there's something I'm fucking forgetting, but I can't think of what the hell it could be at all. It's fucking annoying."

"Uh huh," Bumlets replied, "I understood … pretty much none of that."

"Good," Skittery said instead of explaining. "It doesn't fucking matter anyway. Just fuck off and go back to trying to fuck Dutchy through your mattress. That's what you were doing all fucking weekend, right?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? I'm not stupid, Skitts, and I know you way too well by this point," Bumlets claimed. "The fact that you used the word 'fuck' four times just to get your point across means you're feeling defensive. And if you're feeling defensive then there has to be something to be defensive about. So what the fuck is it? Dutchy? Would you rather I be fucking you through my mattress?"

"No," Skittery snapped. "Just fuck the fucking hell off, okay?"

Bumlets blinked in confusion for a minute before his eyes widened. "Wait. That's your problem? Seriously? Why the-"

"No, that's not fucking it. I'm … I'm fucking … I don't want you to start fucking Itey through your mattress, okay?" Skittery reluctantly admitted.

"What? Why the hell would I do something like that? And when the hell did you start thinking that I'm that much of a slut?" Bumlets asked, slightly shocked

"Itey and I aren't seeing each other anymore, right? So now he's probably going to be looking for another fuck buddy, and he's always had this fucking stupid crush on you. I know we fucking joke about it a lot and shit, but … I'm pretty fucking sure, deep down, he still fucking has some small crush on you," Skittery confessed. "And now that you're all fucking gay and shit …"

"Skittery, Jesus Christ, dude, I'm not going to go and try to fuck Itey," Bumlets promised. "I wouldn't do that to you. I don't even understand how you got it into your head that I might."

"Why the fuck not? I mean, Itey isn't fucking mine; he never was," Skittery pointed out. "Neither of you has any fucking reason not to."

Bumlets sighed. "It's obvious you two … love each other and shit. Shit, I really am turning into a girl. Look, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you and him, but I refuse to ruin it. And God only knows how very little I want to be involved in whatever the hell you two are to each other. Plus, I … I sort of have Dutchy and whatever. I don't really need Itey as a fuck buddy, too, all right?"

Skittery looked down at his desk and nodded.

"So what the fuck was that part about Sean?" Bumlets asked, purposely changing the subject. "He's a gang leader? When the fuck did that happen? And why the hell did I miss it?"

Skittery shrugged. "I don't fucking know, man. The whole thing's way fucked up. Nobody's supposed to know except somehow Blink and Mush found out and Mush told Itey and Itey told me and somehow Sean found out about all of us knowing and- Oh, holy fucking hell!"

"What?"

"Racetrack knows, too, except he doesn't know that Sean knows and- Hey! I think I'm actually beginning to finally understand all this shit," Skittery realized, sounding quite proud of himself.

"Well, I guess that's good, because I'm as confused as fuck," Bumlet admitted.

Skittery laughed. "Yeah, man, it's confusing as fucking hell. I don't even know how I got involved in it all."

"And he's not even part of a gang? I mean, he's actually a gang leader? How long have you known?"

"I don't know. I guess a couple of days. Definitely not long enough to get used to it, that's for sure."

Bumlet's frowned. "And it never occurred to you to tell me? Jesus, I would have liked to know that I was hanging out with a gang leader."

"Hey, man, I thought you'd appreciate not knowing. 'Ignorance is bliss' and all of that, you know. Fuck, if I could go back to not knowing I would in a second. I'm still pissed Itey told me."

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe not knowing is better. How the fuck am I supposed to act around him? I'm not supposed to know, right? What if he finds out?"

Skittery nodded. "Exactly the problem, my friend. I'm still waiting for him to threaten me or kill me or something. The whole thing's doing very bad shit to my stomach."

"Jesus Christ," Bumlets mumbled in disbelief.

Skittery nodded again before smiling slightly. "Hey," he joked, "he could probably get us some damn good drugs, though, right?"

"Hey, Skitts," Itey greeted, trying his best to be to seem as comfortable as possible while he took his assigned seat next to Skittery in math class.

"Yo," Skittery grumbled back.

"So how surprised were you about Dutchy and Bumlets? It's completely nuts, isn't it?"

Skittery shrugged, studying his open textbook.

"I mean, not only has Dutchy finally landed a man, but Bumlets also came out of the closet," Itey said, plowing on. "I know we joked about Bumlets being gay all the time, but I didn't actually think it was true. So … how long do you think they'll last? I'm betting a week at the very most."

"Could we please stop acting like we're still friends?" Skittery finally snapped. "You're getting annoying."

Itey looked shocked for a few seconds before jerking up. His chair crashed to the ground. "You know what? Fuck you, man. What the hell is with you? We can't be friends anymore? Is that it? Did you only ever fucking hang out with me so you could eventually shove your cock up my ass? And if that's true then I hope you get AIDS because you're a complete cunt. And if it's not true then I still hope you get AIDS because you're acting so fucking stupid about this entire fucking thing."

"Fine," Skittery replied with a cold fury he had never had before. He stood up and headed straight for the door without his usual obnoxious attitude. "I'll go and see what I can do on the AIDS front," he explained with obvious forced calm. He quickly walked out of the classroom, letting the door slam on his way out.

"Itey. Office. Principal. Now," the Algebra teacher demanded calmly, at this point very much used to Itey's and Skittery's outbursts during class.

Itey just nodded before leaving.

"Sorry," Skittery mumbled from his position outside their math classroom as soon as Itey passed him.

Itey swept around to face him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed. "Are we seriously not friends anymore? Is that what you want? I … I fucking thought I meant more to you than that."

"No! I mean … yes … I mean … er …you mean a lot to me and shit. God, this is all so fucked up," Skittery tried to explain. "I suddenly don't even know what to say to you and you've pretty much refused to give me any type of grace period."

"Grace period? What the hell makes you think you deserve one? You're the dump-er, Skitts; I'm the dumpee. If anyone decides on a grace period, it'll be me, got it?" Itey snapped.

"Why? Because I was already planning on breaking up with you? You think I had some time to get used to the idea?" Skittery asked sarcastically. "I didn't plan this any more than you did."

"Okay, you deciding to talk about our relationship now, of all times? It's just making me despise you even more."

"I'm fucking-"

"Leave me alone, Skitts," Itey demanded tiredly before walking away. Fuck the office and fuck the principal. He was taking a day off; he couldn't deal with this shit all day.

Bumlets sat down next to David in fourth period. "So I'm going out with Dutchy now. Or … I guess I'm fake going out with him? Either way it's not going to end very well."

"You should try to think more optimistically," David advised quietly. "Some people believe that how you think can actually affect the reality around you. In other words, if you think about the worst thing that could happen then that'll probably be what happens."

"That's bullshit. They're called 'consequences' and it's an excellent idea to be thinking about all of them," Bumlets argued harshly. "Dutchy sure as hell won't; I'm pretty sure I fucked him stupid … -er. And now Skittery seems to think I'll jump Itey. Jesus, I turned into a slut over night. How does something like that even happen?"

"I have no idea," David confessed. "But I do know that snapping at me won't help anything."

Bumlets grinned. "Finally standing up for yourself? Good for you. And I didn't snap at you."

"You totally snapped at me," David assured him. "But I understand … on a sympathetic level, anyway. How did you end up going out with Dutchy? Weren't you straight Friday?"

"I was. It was a big weekend," Bumlets answered, rolling his eyes and grinning. "Dutchy's got this big plan to get Specs to fall for him by getting him jealous. It's a completely fucked up plan that's doomed to fail, and I have no idea how I got wrapped up in it, but … here I am."

"And the part where you had sex with him? Was that just you going for realism?" David asked with a smile.

"That was me being awkward and uncomfortable and frustrated with him. It was a bad idea, and I'm still feeling pissed at myself for doing it. Dutchy didn't seem to mind, though, which is a good thing, I guess."

"Well, at least Dutchy isn't upset about it," David said, trying to look on the bright side. "And you know that regretting it isn't going to help anything. Just learn from your mistakes and next time don't offer sex to someone unless you actually feel like having sex with them."

"Yeah, well, now I'm involved in this stupid plan of Dutchy's because of my stupid guilt," Bumlets complained. "We're even fuck buddies now, and that's definitely going to end badly if I know Dutchy."

"Fuck buddies? As in, you're going to be having sex with him on a regular basis? How did that happen?" David asked, clearly shocked.

"I was still feeling guilty when he asked me; I probably would have agreed to anything," Bumlets said. "That, and … I mean … easy sex. Why the hell would I turn something like that down?"

"You already admitted that you think things are going to end badly."

"Well, yeah, but that's now," Bumlets retorted. "When I agreed, Dutchy was naked and in my bed and offering me sex. Who turns something like that down?"

"That still doesn't explain how you seemed to turn gay overnight."

"Hey, it confused me, too," Bumlets said. "Hell, it still does. Even now I get confused trying to figure it all out. I think I've basically decided to just call myself bisexual and then proceed to fuck anyone who offers … and isn't an ugly fat ass."

"Mm-hmm. Well, a label doesn't matter all that much," David conceded. "You can call yourself whatever you want; it doesn't change who you're actually attracted to. But maybe you should rethink the 'fuck anyone who offers' clause. It might not be the best idea."

"Yeah." Bumlets grinned. "I'll be sure to remember that for next time."

Spot came to his usual table to see Dutchy sitting on Bumlets' lap. They were busy making out and being generally disgusting. "What the fuck is this?" He was getting pretty damn tired of everyone in this group constantly making out with each other. Were they trying to make him throw up?

Dutchy pulled away from Bumlets' mouth. "Why?" He grinned. "Jealous?"

Spot gave a silent snort. "Only of the people that didn't just see that," he replied before turning around. He wondered where Racetrack was.

Spot found him a little bit later sitting at a completely secluded table.

"You seriously don't have any friends, do you?" he asked as soon as he came up to him.

"What the hell do you want, Sean?" Racetrack asked. "I'm pretty sure one punch a day is enough, but if you want to try and push the boundaries-"

"You aren't going to get another punch in," Spot assured him confidently. "Come on."

"Come where?" Racetrack asked suspiciously, but already standing up.

"There are too many people making out where I usually eat so I'm going some place that doesn't make me as nauseous. You're coming with me," Spot explained before heading towards the exit.

"I'm coming with you?" Racetrack asked as he followed along. "And why am I coming with you?"

"I don't know," Spot admitted, going through the closest exit door. He held it open for Racetrack to grab. "You're the one following me."

"Is this your subtle way of asking me to punch you a second time? Because if that's what you want then I'm happy to do it. Hell, I'm happy to do it even if that's not what you want."

"You're not going to punch me again," Spot assured him again. "Last time was luck and surprise. Now that I'm expecting it you aren't going to be able to get it done."

Racetrack shrugged. "At least I still have the bruise on your jaw to look at. That just fills me with all sorts of happy feelings."

"Do you want to be punched?" Spot asked, actually sounding confused. He walked over to his bike before hurling his only helmet at Racetrack.

"It wouldn't matter," Racetrack replied as he strapped on the helmet. "You punch like a girl, anyway."

"It'd probably be a good idea not to provoke the violent gang leader," Spot advised as he straddled his bike.

"I like to live dangerously." Racetrack grinned as he got on the back of the bike and hugged Spot from behind.

"That's probably not the best of ideas either," Spot warned. He started up the engine and took off.

It was about two blocks into the trip when Racetrack remembered that he had promised himself never to get on a motorized vehicle with Spot again. He was seriously going to die. "Watch out for the truck!" he screamed as they swerved around it. "Can't you just drive like a sane person?"

"Can't you go two seconds without screaming in my ear?" Spot shot back. "It's distracting. We wouldn't want me crashing now, would we?" he threatened. He sharply swerved the bike to the right unnecessarily in his attempt to scare Racetrack into shutting up.

"Okay, okay. Jesus. No killing me on this trip, alright?" Racetrack said as he pressed up against Spot more and tightened his grip on him.

"No, of course not. I'm saving that for next time."

"Okay, let's not joke about that sort of thing while my life's already flashing before my eyes," Racetrack suggested. "And for God's sake, slow down."

"I thought I told you no backseat driving," Spot snapped as he took a sharp right and the bike seemed to almost end up on its side.

"No, you told me no screaming in your ear," Racetrack corrected. "Am I screaming anymore? No. See? I listened. And I was only screaming because last time you lied and said you couldn't hear me."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Spot asked with too much innocence in his voice.

"I said-!" Racetrack started to shout before realization hit him. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"

"Still can't hear you," Spot replied smugly. He eventually turned into a Waffle House and found an adequate parking space.

"Waffle House?" Racetrack asked as he took off his helmet. "Isn't that more breakfast oriented?"

"It's open twenty-four hours," Spot stated with a shrug. "And the whole restaurant is a smoking section, which is always a good thing … That's excluding those two booths shoved into a corner just so they can argue that they aren't breaking any laws."

"Mhmm. You want to tell me why I'm here now?" Racetrack asked as he followed Spot into the restaurant.

"Haven't we already gone through this once? You're the one that followed me," Spot answered before walking into the Waffle House and picking out a booth.

"Yeah, but only because you told me to," Racetrack reminded him as he sat down on the booth bench across from Spot.

"You followed behind me like a puppy just because I suggested it?" Spot smirked. "That's the kind of utter devotion I can get behind. I've always liked dogs."

"Yeah, I can kind of tell," Racetrack scoffed.

"Drinks?" a waitress interrupted with evident boredom.

"Uh … water," Racetrack answered. He just now realized that he only had fifty cents in change with him (since his parents didn't trust him with money anymore).

"Coffee," Spot said.

"So why did you tell me to come with you?" Racetrack asked, getting back on track.

Spot shrugged uncaringly. "I wanted to see if you'd actually come."

"You're an ass," Racetrack said as he rolled his eyes.

"Coffee." The waitress sat the coffee in front of Spot. "Water," she announced next, putting the glass of water in front of Racetrack. "So can I assume that you're going to be ordering something?"

"White toast," Spot answered her.

"Er … I'm okay," Racetrack told her. "Thanks."

The waitress rolled her eyes before turning away. "Big spenders. God, I get all the great costumers, don't I?" she mumbled under her breath.

"Why did you drag me here if the only thing you're going to eat is toast? You realize we could have just stayed at school, right? That way I wouldn't've had to risk getting caught cutting school by my mother."

"I came here for the coffee, not the toast," Spot said. "Do I really have to explain why it's a good idea to eat something while consuming large quantities of caffeine?"

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "'Consuming large quantities'? That's such a nerdy thing to say."

"It's an intelligent thing to say," Spot corrected as he dumped creamer and sugar into his coffee.

"You know, I pictured you as someone who would drink their coffee black."

"Thinking about me, were you?" Spot smirked.

"Why do you have to be such a dick all the time?" Racetrack snapped.

"Toast," the waitress announced, dropping the toast in front of Spot and leaving right away.

"I'm pretty sure I already told you that I'm not looking for a friend," Spot replied as he picked up a piece of his toast. "Why the hell you keep expecting it is something too stupid for me to understand."

"Believe me, my last concern is trying to become your friend. Do you not understand that there's a difference between being civil and being someone's friend?"

"I don't even understand why you would expect that," Spot confessed. "You need something from me while I need absolutely nothing from you, therefore I have the right to treat you however I please."

"Are you serious? Who actually thinks like that?"

"That's life, Racey-boy," Spot lectured before taking a bite of his toast.

"Not mine," Racetrack retorted. "And don't call me 'Racey-boy'." His stomach growled, immediately erasing any threat his voice had managed to convey.

Spot rolled his eyes before shoving his other piece of toast toward Racetrack.

Racetrack frowned at him, causing Spot to roll his eyes a second time.

"Eat," Spot snapped.

David unhappily sat next to Jack in his French class. Today was yet again a time for working on the French projects. He really wished that the teacher would just make everyone do them at home. He hated dealing with Jack.

"You know I still don't plan on doing this project, right? I mean, before, I just didn't want to do it, but now"– he smirked – "I'm actually curious to see how you handle getting an 'F' for the first time in your entire life."

"Really? Personally, I can't wait until you realize I'm not kidding about not doing the project and you fail the entire class," David replied. "And, just for the record, reminding me that I'm going to fail is not the way to convince me to do this project."

"I don't even want you to do the project anymore," Jack claimed. "I told you, 'I want to see what you do when you actually get a zero on this stupid project.' Do you think you'll cry?"

"How much do you think you'll hate taking French again next year?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Please. I don't even need this class. You only need two language credits to graduate, after all. The only thing this 'F' will do is lower my grade point average and fuck if I care about that."

"So why are you taking this class in the first place?" David asked, clearly thinking that Jack was stupid for taking a class he didn't care about passing.

"'Cause Swifty signed up for it and we thought there was a good chance of being in the class together," Jack answered truthfully. "But he got stuck taking this class during third period."

David rolled his eyes. "Poor you."

"So what the hell are we supposed to do if we aren't going to work on the project?" Jack asked. He really didn't want to be bored for the entire forty-five minutes of class.

"I'm going to be doing homework," David replied, already taking out a notebook from another class. "You can do whatever the hell you want."

"Ah, come on, Mouth," Jack tried to persuade. "Can't you be even a little bit interesting?"

"For you? I think I'll pass," David told him. He flipped through his notebook before settling on a blank page.

Jack ran both hands through his hair, but kept silent. He didn't really know what to say; he hadn't had much experience dealing with Pissy David.

David appeared to have no trouble ignoring him. He was transfixed by whatever he was writing down. Every once in a while he would stop, looking confused as he chewed on the tip of his pen. Then his eyes would light up, and, looking smug, he would continue on with his writing.

Jack was content enough to watch him for some time, but eventually he got bored with the repetition. "So … what were you doing at Masson's party last weekend?" he asked, interrupting the silence that only seemed to surround him and David.

"It was nothing," David mumbled, still writing. "Just some stupid idea Specs talked me into."

"Hm. I was actually thinking that would get you to stop writing and start up a conversation."

"I don't want to converse with you, Jack … at all," David answered. He went back to chomping on his pen, but he wasn't looking at his notebook with as much concentration as before. "Can't you just shut up?"

"God, what is it with you all hating me so much?" Jack finally burst out. He suddenly felt frustrated with David and Skittery and Itey and Bumlets and Dutchy and Swifty and … and all of his old friends in general. Why couldn't they just lighten up? What had he done that was so wrong?

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you completely abandoned us," David snapped, finally ignoring whatever it was he was writing.

"You act as if I'm the only one," Jack retorted. "Everyone else separated into different groups, too."

"Yeah, but you were the first to go," David said, pointing at him with his pen.

"Actually, Crutchy was the first to leave, remember?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't his fault," David defended. "His dad got another job in Chicago. Crutchy had to leave. What's your excuse?"

"I had football," Jack told him. "If I hadn't've made friends with the other players then I would have never gotten enough support to become the first string quarterback."

"So you traded us up for football? Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better," David replied. Even though he already knew it to be true, it still hurt.

"You know it was always my dream to play football," Jack tried to explain. "I couldn't have done that if I hadn't-"

"Sometimes friends are more important than dreams, Jack," David snapped.

Jack looked at his hand while trying his hardest to come up with a response. Fortunately, the bell rang before he had to admit that there really was no excuse for what he had done.

"Hey," Blink greeted as he sat next to Sean in seventh period art.

Spot just glared at him.

Blink rolled his eye. "I know, we're not friends; I'm not trying to be. Can't we just call a truce in art class since I have to sit next to you?"

"You don't have to keep sitting next to me."

"Sean, out of all the people in here, who would you rather have to sit next to?" Blink asked.

Sean glared at him again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Blink answered, taking the glare for a 'you'. "It might be best not to try and scare me off, then, yeah?"

"Fine," Sean reluctantly consented. "Truce."

"So … what are you planning on making?"

They were supposed to be using simple geometry shapes to create whatever inanimate object struck their fancy. Sean was pretty sure it had an official name, but he hadn't paid any attention when the teacher was yammering on about it.

"I don't suppose I could just spill paint on the canvas again," Sean replied, trying his best to be polite. An image of Racetrack in Waffle House telling him that there was a difference between treating people civilly and being a person's friend suddenly popped into his head.

"No, I think that was just a one time thing," Blink answered with a grin.

Sean shrugged. "I'll probably just make a rectangle out of six squares," he answered seriously.

Blink chuckled. "You're the worst art student ever. What are you even doing in this class?"

"Hell if I know," Spot admitted. "Complete retards must be handling the student schedules."

"I think it has more to do with the fact that you transferred in unexpectedly," Blink confessed. "But retards? I'm sure that's a factor in it, too."

"Where's Itey?" Bumlets asked as soon as he noticed that eighth period had started and Itey didn't seem to be sharing it with them. "Was he even at lunch?"

Dutchy frowned. "I don't think so."

"Er … I think I might have accidentally scared him off in third period by being a huge dick," Skittery confessed reluctantly.

"What the hell is with you guys today?" Dutchy asked from his spot on Bumlets' lap.

"You don't want to know," Bumlets spoke up. "You won't understand it either. I sure as hell didn't."

"More importantly: what the hell is with you two today?" Skittery asked. "Do you know the meaning of 'unnatural'? Seriously, you two together… with each other … making out … ew. It's just completely sick and wrong."

"Hey! I love Bumlets and Bumlets loves me!"

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Dutchy's trying to make Specs jealous by pretending to date me," he easily confessed. "You want to make fun of him with me when the whole thing fails miserably?"

"Like I could say 'no' to that. Do you not know me at all?" Skittery replied with a grin. "So the whole 'fucking thing' … What the hell is that? Please don't tell me you lied, because I'd be completely crushed if Bumlets ran back into the closet."

"The fucking's for real," Dutchy assured him with very evident pride.

"Ah, Bumlets: my little fairy princess," Skittery gushed.

"Hey! He's my little fairy princess, thank you very much," Dutchy argued.

"I'm not anyone's little fairy princess," Bumlets claimed. "And if either of you ever call me that again, you will be getting a punch in the face."

"You punch me in the face then I'm going to deny you sex," Dutchy threatened.

"Fine with me. I'll just go get it from Itey."

"Hey!" Dutchy and Skittery exclaimed at the same time, both looking extremely betrayed.

"Jesus Christ above, guys. I was kidding," Bumlets explained. "God, you sleep with one of your friends on a whim and suddenly you're a slut who'll take it from anybody. Have a little more faith in me, will ya?"

"Don't joke about fucking Itey," Skittery and Dutchy both ordered in sync.

"Why the hell is it that Itey can joke about fucking me, but I can't joke about fucking Itey? How is that fair?" Bumlets asked, not really that upset about it. "Fuck, you two are a little over-possessive."

"I am not," they denied at the same time yet again.

"Jesus Christ, stop doing that!" Skittery finally ordered Dutchy. "It's very creepy."

"It's your fault," Dutchy claimed.

"I think I fucked Dutchy so much, I turned him into Skittery," Bumlets mumbled loudly enough for his friends to hear, mock-worry present on his face.

"Ew," Skittery replied, pulling a disgusted face. "I don't want anything more in common with Dutchy than I already have. And I'm certainly not interested in trading places with him; I don't want to be the dumb one."

"Why the hell do people keep saying that today?" Dutchy burst out, offended, as Bumlets' shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Bumlets! You're supposed to be defending my honor!"

"I don't think I can defend your honor when the things you want me to rebuke are true."

"I can't believe you! I can't … You're an ass. I can't believe I slept with you. You're … you are the worst boyfriend ever," Dutchy complained, all the while leaning against him.

"This French project is fucking easy," Swifty exclaimed to Spot as they reached the smoking wall. "We just get an ass load of facts off the Internet, write it in an essay, and then we run it through an online translator to turn it into French."

Spot nodded before taking out a cigarette. "Pretty much. I'll get the information we need. You can do the essay and translation. That way I don't have to try so hard to tolerate your presence."

Swifty rolled his eyes. "It's nice to know how much you care."

"Hey, I don't have to like you. I'm doing this for Sling, not you. Was that not understood? I thought I made it pretty clear."

Swifty crossed his arms and shrugged. "I thought I would grow on you."

"Ah, well, you haven't. I doubt it's going to happen, so I would stop trying."

Swifty frowned. "You could at least make an effort. How hard would that be?"

"You're not worth the trouble."

"Jesus, you're not the nicest person in the world. Do you realize that? You're actually kind of a bastard."

Spot grinned. "Thanks."

Swifty turned a bit, dropping the conversation when he saw Skittery coming over with Blink.

Blink smiled as soon as he saw him. "Hey, Swifty."

"Blink. Hey." Swifty smiled back. "Did you hear about me fulfilling my reward for losing the bowling bet to Jack?"

"I heard about you going completely mental in front of the school building, if that's what you mean," Blink replied. "Everyone thinks you belong in a mental institution now."

"No shit?" Swifty laughed. "I hadn't heard. It does explain all those strange looks people have been giving me since that day, though."

"Swifty does belong in a mental institute," Skittery grumbled. "Or at the very least he belongs somewhere that isn't here."

"Chill out. I came here to talk to Sean, not you. Stop being such a jackass. You're just embarrassing yourself. Nobody else here has a problem with me being here."

Skittery turned to Sean and raised his eyebrows.

Sean shrugged. "I'm the one that brought him over here. Why the hell would I care?"

"See?" Swifty smirked in triumph.

Sean turned to him. "Maybe I'm regretting it a little now, though."

"Hey, Blink," Bumlets greeted, coming up to the group with Dutchy in tow. He tried to hide his surprise at finding Blink anywhere near their smoking wall. "Er … Swifty," he added, deciding to try and be polite just because Blink seemed to like him and Skittery seemed to like Blink.

Swifty waved jerkily. "Yo."

"Bumlets," Blink greeted back, seemingly more at ease than Swifty. "What's up?"

Dutchy smiled and hugged Bumlets' arm. "We're going out now."

"I thought you weren't gay," Swifty confessed to Bumlets.

"I turned him," Dutchy bragged. "I'm extra sexy like that."

"Yeah, sexy like dog kibble," Skittery scoffed.

"But …" Dutchy pouted. "Dog kibble isn't sexy."

Spot gave a silent snort. "I think that's the point, you moron."

"Bumlets," Dutchy whined, tugging on his new boyfriend's arm a bit, "tell them I'm a lot sexier than dog kibble."

Bumlets tried to get out a cigarette with one arm. He eventually gave up and ripped his other arm away from Dutchy. "You're a lot sexier than dog kibble, babe." He lit up before throwing his arm around Dutchy's shoulders.

"Ew! Ew! Make it stop!" Skittery screamed, hunching over and covering his eyes.

Spot gave a disgusted face. "Agreed."

Swifty and Blink looked at each other and shrugged in confusion.

"Hey, what's up?" Specs asked as he came up to the group. "And what the hell are all these people doing here? I thought you guys tried to chase everyone off."

"Only you," Skittery replied. "Oh, and Swifty, but apparently he got invited here by Sean. What the hell's your excuse?"

"I came to get Dutchy," Specs answered.

"Oh, right," Dutchy said, remembering. "We were supposed to get some coffee, right? All right. I'll call you later, okay, Bumlets?"

"Sure, babe," Bumlets responded before pecking Dutchy on the lips and letting him go.

"That's so disturbing," Skittered remarked as Dutchy and Specs approached the parking lot.

"What is?" David asked, concern evident in his voice as he came up to the group.

"Dutchy and Bumlets going out," Skittery confessed. "Not only does it give me the creeps, it also makes me just a little bit nauseous. I'm starting to realize it might not be as fun a combination as people think."

"Who thinks that's a good combination?" Swifty asked skeptically.

"Hey, David," Blink piped up happily.

"Blink," David announced, his eyes lighting up right away. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," Blink answered. "Actually-"

"Hey," Skittery interrupted, throwing an arm over Blink. "Blink's mine. You can have Specs."

"I thought Specs was Dutchy's," Bumlets spoke up.

"Oh, yeah," Skittery said. "Alright, you can have Bumlets, then."

"Wasn't Bumlets mine?" Sean interrupted, reminding everyone that he was still there. "I'm the one that was fucking him senseless in the janitor's closet."

"Right," Skittery replied, looking confused. "Damn, this is getting fucking hard with so many people."

"Hey, why don't I get anyone?" Swifty asked with mock hurt.

"You have Jack, remember?" Blink told him.

"Who has me?" Jack asked, coming up to the group.

"No one who wants you," Swifty responded as he crossed his arms.

"Oh, snap," Skittery shouted happily. "Jesus, Swifty, I think I might like you after all."

Swifty immediately smiled.

"Get the hell out of here, Jack," Bumlets demanded.

"Second," David spoke up as he put his hands on his hips.

Blink just stood by and looked at Jack in sympathy. He didn't really know why everyone seemed to hate Jack so much, and he certainly had no idea how to defuse the situation.

"Chill the fuck out," Sean finally ordered. "He came over here for me," he explained to everyone before turning to Jack. "I'm driving you home, then?"

Jack smiled. "Home. Yeah … But only if I can drive the motorcycle."

Spot rolled his eyes before smirking and tossing the keys to Jack. "I'll let you drive for a mile," he conceded. "But if you crash my baby I'm going to pound your head into the sidewalk until your skull gives in," he warned him.

"No worries," Jack shrugged as he started towards the bike. "I just won't wear a helmet. That way, if I crash the bike, I'll most likely be dead anyway."

They hadn't even taken two steps before Racetrack appeared. "Hey, Sp-er … Sean," he greeted before mumbling, "God, that's confusing."

"You want something?" Sean asked with a grin and a silent snort.

"I have to see Rambler again Sunday. You'll come, right? Because there's no way in hell I'm seeing him by myself," Racetrack explained.

Spot nodded. "I have to be there anyway. Wait in the lobby for me and don't talk to anyone. In fact, maybe you should bring a rape whistle with you."

"Okay, you're making fun of me; I get it," Racetrack replied, rolling his eyes but smiling a bit. "I'll see you there," he declared before turning away and seeing Blink for the first time. He immediately burst into a smile. "Blink. Hey. What's up? Where's Mush?"

"He left as soon as school ended," Blink explained. "Itey didn't show up for seventh period and he got worried. Are you sure it's okay for you to be talking to me? … And next to the smoking wall? What if your mom sees?"

Racetrack made a displeased sound in the back of his throat. "Good point," he consented. "I'll see you, okay? And tell Mush I said 'hi'."

"Definitely," Blink assured him even though by now he was quite some meters away.

"I should probably go," Swifty told everyone, already taking off toward his car. "Good luck on finding the information," he called over his shoulder to Sean.

"Yeah, I need to get going, too," David announced. "I'm still grounded, after all. I'll see you, Blink. Bye, Skittery. You want to walk me to my car, Bumlets?"

"Gay," Jack coughed out.

David just glared at him before taking Bumlets' hand and walking off.

"Go Davy," Bumlets congratulated in awe, his voice low enough so that only David could hear him.

"Come on, Jack," Spot ordered. "I have more things to do today than just you."

"Ew." Jack followed Spot to the bike. "Can we please keep the gay sex jokes to a zero?"

"Suck it up," Spot ordered.

Skittery watched them walk away before turning to Blink. "What's up?" he asked when he saw the frown of concentration on his face.

"I just … don't understand why Racetrack's still talking to Sean even though Racetrack knows that Sean knows that Mush told Itey, who told you, you know?" He frowned, a little confused by his own sentence. "I mean, Racetrack's … I know Racetrack's kind of reckless sometimes, but … he's just never seemed this reckless before," Blink tried to explain.

Skittery's stomach dropped when he realized that it was his job to tell Racetrack about Sean and he had never gotten around to it.

Oh, shit, his mind supplied.

A/N: Alright, so, here's chapter seventeen (and the first, but hopefully far from last, chapter with my new and glorious Beta). Can I hear a 'yay'?

My next chapter may quite possibly be the present I got for my story's first year anniversary. That would mean I wouldn't post again until May 29. I may slide chapter eighteen in, but that's more of a distant hope than an actually plan.

And, finally, don't forget to review. If you do I'll let you have the pleasure of joining me in my happy dance.

'Til Next Time,
Please Don't Hold Back