Pete thudded against the ground. He wheezed for air, then pressed a hand to his aching chest as he went into a series of violent coughs. The carnival lights and distant sounds of people socializing on the more occupied side of the premises faded in, blurry at first until Pete caught his breath. He saw red and white carnival colors on the go kart building, then saw Benji step into his line of vision. He leaned down and half-scoffed, half-chuckled at Pete's misfortune.
"Little bitch boy," Benji taunted, hacking and spitting on him before growling, "Little pissbaby," and stomping his foot into Pete's ribs. "Little pissbaby want his bottle? How 'bout you use my junk instead? You look like you've got the lips for it."
"Benji, what is wrong with you?" Pete groaned, woozy.
"Nearly nothing. Seriously. Nearly nothing. I think that's what makes my existence such a problem to most people. None of you can relate; you're all operating on a lower plane. They say ignorance is bliss, Petey. Though, not always," he chuckled. "You're not looking too blissful right about now. The truth is, I'm better than you, and I'm smarter than most, but can you even begin to comprehend what a curse that is? Flex that itty-bitty brain, friend. I can't operate in the same way that other people can. What kind of a life do you think that leads to? No wonder I'm a fucking outcast."
Pete writhed, wiped spit off his cheek, and held his stomach.
"Psychologists have always jumped at the notion that I'm mentally ill." Benji let out a laugh. "'Mentally ill'. A prematurely evolved sheep would be seen as strange by the other sheep, would he not? Like a freak? Humans are no different, little Petey bird." He crouched down to grip Pete's jacket scruff, tugging him close to murmur, "If you think you've seen the last of me, you haven't. You keep on your toes, my little lesbian friend. If ever you think you're safe, just remember that I'm out there-skulking like the very worst denizens of your imagination. You can't outdo me, and you can't possibly get rid of me. I'm a fucking werewolf, Petey, I told you that already, and you're my prey."
Pete remained silent, and Benji released him. As he trekked off into the distance, Pete rolled over on his back, his eyes up to the night sky and his body aching. With Benji's return came the return of Pete's feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and defeat. A flash of what he imagined former student Franklin Clinton to look like appeared in his mind, the boy sleeping off the side of the road, covering himself up with newspapers. Moments later, Pete felt his lip quivering, with tears welling up at his eyelids.
"I never did anything wrong to you," he finally rasped in response, but Benji was long gone.
Shay wandered the carnival, fighting the urge to gnaw her vibrantly colored nails as her eyes drifted all around. She called out Pete's name, budging through crowds until finally she returned to the go kart building's area. She saw him trudging forward, walking like the human equivalent of a fox that had its leg stomped. With one arm supporting his stomach, Pete limped, and Shay rushed closer.
"Pete?" she murmured, her eyes gentle and concerned. "Hey, where did you go? Are you alright?"
Pete looked up from the ground to reveal a face wiped of any and all encouragement. He couldn't even look her in the eyes. "Let's go back to the dorms..."
"Aw, you look... you look so sad," she peeped. "Please, tell me what happened."
Shamefully, he faced her. Not even the warming sight and scent of his crush could raise his spirits. "Benji happened."
"Sixty!" Harper exclaimed. "Sixty tickets! Jeez, getting this many with Oliver would've been a nightmare."
"How so?" Connor wondered, oblivious to the pair of them passing a post with a printed paper reading:
-CONNOR HENSON-
-Friend of the penniless, enemy of YOU-
-Not to mention hilariously dumb as well-
"He doesn't know how to have fun! Ugh, that's the problem with all the people around this place! They drain me of any fun-seeking qualities, and so I stay cooped up in Harrington House like some kind of chicken. If I really were a chicken, I'd be a prize-winning one. Rather, a hen. An elegant chicken is what I'm getting at."
"Uh huh."
She stopped walking to turn and face her date. "You're not like Oliver though. I don't know what it is about you, Connor, but I haven't even thought about how much money you have, not since we first started walking around tonight. I-I'm so used to seeing a person based on their wealth or lack thereof that I... I see you like I've never seen anyone ever before."
"Harper, what you're describing is how regular people see each other. Trust me, there's nothing special about me. You just grew up with insufferable assholes, and it seems like there's some semblance of a regular girl in you, trying to burst free from the web of snobbery you've been indoctrinated into."
"Some of us enjoy our web, Henson," sneered Bryce.
Connor and Harper turned around to see Bryce standing before them, glaring daggers at the offbeat. From behind red and white carnival tents appeared Chandler next, followed by the intimidating Caden.
"It keeps us comfy. Secure. Fastened."
"What, like a seatbelt?"
"Harper, what are you doing?" Caden asked with the snidest of smiles on his face.
"Would you guys all just give this a rest?" she begged. "It's pointless!"
"You'd defend this pauper?" Bryce challenged her. "After what it did to my hand?"
"'It'?" Connor retorted. "Oh, you're getting a beating for that alone."
"Connor, no," Harper tried to hold him back, but he wriggled free and gestured her aside.
"Go on, Harper," Caden insisted. "Let this ruffian show us what he's got."
"Was the display in the Hole not enough?" he growled.
"Take him down, lads," Caden ordered, and with that, Bryce and Chandler sprung into action.
Nearby carnival-goers steered clear as the brawl took place. Harper backed away as well, watching with fright in her eyes while Caden crossed his arms and grinned as the battle began.
Bryce and Chandler each swung at him in sync, landing a few strikes while Connor dodged the majority. Connor grabbed Bryce's wrist and cracked it before tugging his arm forward, headbutting him, and kicking Chandler backward. The flustered prep tumbled back into a tent. Connor and Bryce sparred, and the prep let out audible growls as they fought. There was a glimmer of rage in his eyes, giving him the edge to land a series of fists in Connor's face all in a row. Caden nodded in approval while Harper flinched.
Chandler returned to the fight as Connor evaded a jab and wrapped his arms around Bryce, jamming his knee into his stomach and grunting while he summoned the strength to toss him against Chandler. Connor pounded his fist into Bryce's face before he could stand up again, then Chandler speared himself into him. Connor jammed his elbows into Chandler's back as the prep shot them backwards, then he pushed him off.
"Step off, bitch!" Connor snapped.
Fighting with these preps, Connor thought grimly about how much more tactical their strikes were. Where the bullies' attacks were sloppy and more disorganized, these teenagers fought in a flow, a rehearsed style that Connor was still picking up on. Blocking several fists, Connor evaded and slammed his elbow into Chandler's face, then punched him repeatedly before headlocking the prep and swinging him over and slamming him to the ground. Just as Chandler hit the ground, Caden entered the fight.
"Caden, come on!" Harper urged, but he ignored her.
The much leaner and taller prep danced around like the carnival grounds were just one large ring. Connor swung for him but it was like Caden couldn't be touched. He dodged and swerved out of the way of strikes, in more of a flow state than water.
"Dammit, stand still!" Connor growled.
Connor landed one hit, though Caden blocked it easily, and parried the next by jabbing him hard in the ribs. Spit flew out of Connor's mouth, then a wildly fast underhanded punch shot him right off his feet. It was a rough slam to the ground. Caden cracked his neck as he returned to his dancing around.
"Come on then!"
Connor groaned and struggled back to a sitting position, wiping blood from one nostril, but Harper intervened moments before Caden could hit him with a downward jab.
"All right, stop! Stop it! That's enough! You proved you're better, now just leave us be!"
"Proved I was better?" Caden echoed. "You assume I needed confirmation? I was merely putting this thin-wallet in his place."
"Okay, well, cool, you've done that. Go on, Caden. Take Chandler and Bryce and leave, please."
Caden gradually settled himself, exiting boxer mode and returning to stationary. "Very well. Boys, come." He clapped. "Back to Harrington House."
As Caden helped the preps back up and they began to enter into one of the bystanding crowds, Bryce turned and snapped, "There will be a rematch! A rematch, I say!"
"Yeah, yeah," Connor grunted, sitting up and rubbing his head, helped up to his feet by Harper.
"You good?"
"Yeah. Argh... Damn."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you don't get beaten very often?"
Connor shot her a befuddled look. "Nah, I didn't just get beaten. You interrupted it."
"Because he was about to beat you."
"I doubt that."
"Connor, Caden Jones is a really good boxer. Scary good for someone our age."
"Okay, whatever. You know, I keep hearing that, but I don't think he's that good. He hasn't knocked me out."
"Have you ever gone a full fight's length with him?"
Connor didn't respond.
"The point is, when Caden's around, maybe you should just call a truce. He's not gonna go down as easily as the other people you've fought."
"Not gonna happen. These rich kids need a lesson taught to them. If I can pacify one clique, maybe I can pacify another."
Harper sighed. "There's no pacifying Caden and Oliver."
"We'll see about that."
"You wanna go now? I think I've seen enough, especially after that."
"Soon. There's one more thing I've gotta do," Connor replied.
"Which would be?"
"Wait here."
Fifteen minutes later, Harper tapped her foot impatiently as Connor finally returned through a slimming crowd of carnival goers, with the night growing later and later.
"There you are! Why make me wait here if-"
She stopped completely when Connor reached into his green hoodie, only to pull out a teddy bear. At once, the preppie girl's eyes lit up, and she happily took the bear from him.
"Connor! You- how much was this?"
"Fifty tickets actually. I got half a sub with the other ten. There were bite marks on it... Hopefully that was worth it."
"It was completely worth it! Oh, my god... a night spent treated like a princess, and you close it off with a present! For me! You do know my worth!"
"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "figured it wasn't mu-"
Harper leaned in and planted her lips on his. Connor's eyes went wide, then Harper unplanted. She was beaming from head to toe, smiling up a storm.
"Thank you, Connor!"
"Harper... why did you just-"
"I was wrong about you when I first saw you at the movie theater. In fact, I think I may have been wrong about more than that."
"O-oh?" Connor replied, flabbergasted.
Harper smiled even bigger and laid a finger on his chest. "Bye, Connor! You'll be seeing even more of me, I promise."
As she disappeared into the crowd, hugging her new bear tight, Connor reeled-only partially from the fight he'd undergone fifteen minutes prior. Instead, he was left in a daze.
Oliver Harrington's girl just cheated on him... with me? And I thought Kanashii fighting with Dave was bad... This ought to make the future colorful.
A few days after the events of the carnival, Pete found himself daydreaming in the middle of math class. As several students around him scribbled down onto their pages, Pete found himself resting his face against his elbow-mounted fist, stifling a sigh.
What was the point of throwing letters into math? Everything was perfect until that happened. I'd like to find that guy and... and... mess him up. God, this school's a dump. I wish Noah could have gotten rid of math when he became class president.
"Thirteen minutes, class," announced Hattrick, strolling the aisles of desks.
Why thirteen minutes? Seems like a strange number of minutes to choose to make that announcement. I just wanna get out of here and see Shay... If only Benji didn't pop out of nowhere the way he did, maybe I could've mustered the courage-the gusto to make Shay like me. Maybe it's just not in me to attract someone of that caliber.
"Peter?"
He looked up to face the instructor.
"Dozing off, are we?"
"No, sir."
"Keep it that way then."
Pete looked behind him to scan the other desks at the back of the class. Perhaps someone else was as distracted as he was. His eyes veered in the direction of Benji sitting in the back of the class, grinning at him as he rubbed his bangs out of his scarred eye. Pete's heart lurched, and once he blinked, he could tell it was only Harold bending his pointer finger up and down at him.
"Psst! Look! I'm an inchworm!" he whispered.
Pete turned back around to face his work. He felt sweat beads forming at his upper forehead.
I'm losing it. No, no, concentrate, and not on this pointless school work. The only thing that's gonna make me feel better and prove I'm better than Benji thinks I am is if I get Shay to like me. I need advice...
Later, Pete wandered campus, making his way to the parking lot used by teachers and faculty much more now that the gates had been opened to Bullworth town. As the wind blew through him, he shivered; with an overcast sky above him, there was no sunlight to cushion the wind chill. He caught a glance of Frog rummaging through his car, only to stop once he found a bottle in his backseat.
"Nice to see that little adventure with Connor was completely pointless."
Pete made his way through the parking lot, heading towards the opening to the auto shop garages. His chest thumped; he realized this is where greasers hung out, and his place with those guys wasn't all that well asserted yet.
The greaser hangout consisted of a number of dumpsters, stray car pieces lying about, with a series of brick walls, almost forming a maze-not to mention the many garages that opened up to more of the same brick walls and scrap parts. As Pete headed around a wall, he saw a group of greasers sitting on trash cans and chatting with one another. They stopped when they saw Pete, who gulped, and waved to them.
"Uh, morning, fellas. Or is it afternoon? Can't tell with this overcast."
One of the greasers was Norton, the same Norton that defended Evan's shack weeks prior, while the other two were unnamed, one of them quite tall and lanky with long, hippy hair. All three were clad in leather jackets and greasy heads of hair.
"Yo, who's this kid?" asked the tall one.
"Someone I don't think belongs here," murmured the other.
Norton got up off his trash can. Memories of Norton's sheer brutality in a fight, the beating he dealt Benji, and the physical reminder of his size had him feeling like trembling.
"You were one of the ones at the shack."
"Yeah, but, in hindsight, I don't think I would be again if I could do it over."
Norton's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't change a damn thing."
"Norton, bro, are we supposed to be afraid of this guy?" the tall one asked, an amused smile spread across his face. He stood, and Pete saw now that this guy was just as tall as people like Caden, Evan, and Orion.
Can't anyone just be short?
"Not at all. You're supposed to disagree with the company he keeps. Ocean, do you have any idea who this kid is? This is the midget that hangs with Benji."
"Benji Malloy?" Ocean grinned. "That dude knows how to have a good time. I once saw him rail a line of-"
"The fucker strapped an actual explosive to my chest! I don't give a fuck whether the two of you did ketamine or you shaved each other's balls! He's a menace!"
"Relax, man. I party with people I don't even like all the time."
"There are parties at this academy?" Pete wondered.
"None you can come to, pipsqueak," taunted the unnamed greaser.
"Vance, Vance, Vance, easy!" came the voice of Orion, appearing from behind the brick wall the trio sat by.
"Peace," Ocean grumbled, brushing past Pete as he swiftly departed.
"What was-" Pete tried to ask.
"Don't worry about that; Ocean and I hate each other," Orion explained.
"Yet he parties with people he doesn't like..."
"Good to see you again, homie. What's going on, Phillip?"
"Pete."
"Pete. That's what I said. And, uh, why don't you explain somewhere else?" With a hand blocking his mouth, he added, "My friends get a little touchy about visitors. They aren't so keen on inter-cliquial relations, feel me?"
"Did you just make that word up?"
"You like it? This way," Orion gestured Pete to follow with a nick of his head.
Pete followed Orion through more winding brick walls, then as they approached a closed up garage, Orion tugged up its hatch and opened it up to Emma giggling as Xander kissed along her neck. Xander had her seated on a table and pressed up against the wall of the garage.
"Oh, yikes," Orion murmured, turning to face away and clear his throat.
Emma spotted them, but didn't react. It was only when Xander turned and saw them that they stopped. It was also only then that Pete noticed Xander stood a good four inches or so shorter than his girlfriend.
"Finally, someone else is short."
"What'd he just say?" Xander demanded. "The fuck are you doing in here?"
"Hi, Orion," Emma waved to him with her fingers.
Xander held a hand in front of her. "Don't say hi to him."
"Oh, well, I was just taking my good friend Pete here to-"
"Orion, get the fuck out of here. Now!" Xander ordered.
"All right, all right, going." Once away from the garage that Xander promptly shut after them, Orion murmured, "Jesus, that guy's just..." He sighed and shook his head.
"Does he have some issue with you?" Pete asked. "Like, personally?"
Orion and Pete stood on the roof of the shop building. It was the final connected building to the greaser hangout, and was a great deal smaller than the central academy building. The pull of the wind was stronger up top.
"I mean, yeah, pretty much. I don't know how it is in the other cliques, but us greasers aren't all such great friends with each other. We're all banded together under Xander, but that doesn't mean we have to like each other."
"So, like, what just happened with Ocean-you see that often in your group?"
"Yeah. And Xander? He's just jealous that Emma acknowledges me. Not like she hasn't 'acknowledged' plenty of people at this school. Most recently it was Dave, that germaphobe, preppie kid. Things are getting pretty weird with the preps, but it should settle down before long." He grinned. "Unless Emma tries to 'acknowledge' another of Oliver's boys. Heh, I wouldn't mind if she did more than acknowledge me if we're being honest. Girl like that, I can't say it'd be too difficult to get her-"
"I don't really care about that. I wanted to ask you for more advice."
Orion leaned over and snagged a rock lying at the edge of the roof. "Yeah?" He readied his shot, scanning the horizon to see some students walking around by the fountain separating the clique territories. Scolding one of the jocks stood one of the prefects. "What kinda advice would I have for you?" Orion tossed the rock, zipping it like he was skipping rocks on a lake. The rock nailed the prefect in the shoulder, and he peered around, but couldn't locate Orion. The jock took off running back towards the gym, leading to the prefect following in hot, embarrassed pursuit. Orion laughed over it.
"You know, about Shay."
Fuzzy, the greaser scratched his head. "Huh?"
"The girl I'm interested in."
"Oh! Oh, yes, with the presents and your scissors and such! Did you follow my prior advice? Did you make sure your little lady knows just who she's speaking to?"
Pete shrugged. "I mean, I tried my best, but it didn't go well." His head hung low. "At all."
Orion set his hands on his hips and looked down at his much smaller friend. "What went down?"
"Well, I got her on a date-"
"There you go!" Orion smacked Pete's shoulder and chuckled, flashing a huge smile. "There it is! You're a little champion of men, aren't you?"
"But it wasn't a date," Pete continued. "We went to the carnival, but part of that time was spent in a group, so that didn't help me feel like we were on a date-"
"But you still took this chick on a date, yes?"
"Well, no. It was an 'as friends' thing."
"Ah, Pete," Orion tsked and shook his head. "Man. That bites hard. Like a dog."
"Yeah, yeah, I know it does. Then I got jumped."
"What? Who? Whose ass do I need to kick?"
"That's nice of you, but don't worry about it. There's no finding Benji Malloy unless he wants to be found."
Orion turned to gaze at campus, narrowing his eyes. "Sure have been hearing that name an awful lot."
"The point is, I tried to be the kind of person Shay liked. The kind of person I thought she'd like. You know. Dominant. Charismatic. Strong. I don't know, stuff like that. Isn't that what girls like?"
Orion nodded. "Usually, yeah."
"I did my best to be those things, but I felt like I buckled under the pressure. I couldn't look her in the eyes and be that guy, she was just too... too... I can't be something I'm not when I look into those eyes of hers. Then when Benji jumped me, and taunted me, and I had to limp my ass back to Shay... I knew it was all over for me. I'd done my best, and I failed. I was a failure."
Orion sat down on the edge of the roof overlooking campus, gesturing for Pete to do the same. "Look, bro, I don't know you that well yet, but I find you pleasant. You know... average. Pretty all right."
"Thanks," he responded curtly.
"But- but- but- the truth of the matter is, you can't just be average and only pretty all right with a girl of this one's alleged caliber. You understand? Maybe you were wearing a mask at the carnival, but there's other ways of showing your worth without faking. Get me? That's not even what I meant by the whole present thing."
Pete gazed up into Orion's eyes, a look of pleading in his own. "Then what did you mean?"
"I'm gonna put this in the simplest terms I can think of. Even a pathetic idiot could understand this. You've gotta think about it like this: imagine a boar."
"A... a boar?" he echoed.
"Yes, bro, a boar. What do they have? Tusks. Now, tusks are, in nature, sharp and capable of sustaining life via defending the life that they're attached to. You're the tusk. Now, this might seem hard to believe, but Shannon's-"
"Shay."
"Shay's the dirt. You, not just as a man but as a tusk, are the penetrator, while the dirt is capable of being penetrated." Orion let out a womanly moan, then continued on his explanation as if he'd never made the sound. "Now, don't go actually physically penetrating this girl before you can even carry a conversation with her. Instead, imagine what happens when a tusk enters the ground-the dirt. The tusk dismembers the life it was previously attached to, but it sinks deeply into the dirt, without going anywhere. Above the surface, the tusk appears trapped in the dirt, but really, the tusk, depending on its state when it was driven in, can do more than you'd expect. Get all that?"
Pete didn't respond.
"Wedged deeply into the dirt, a sharp tusk can slice all the way through the dirt. Otherwise stated, you can pivot from one mood of this girl's to another. You're in her head now, all right? A dull tusk could break under the force of the earth, and you don't wanna break under the force of this girl's hold on you. So, what can we derive from all this? You need to be a sharp tusk. Sometimes a tusk requires a sharpener, if said boar is born with dull tusks. However the case, you need your tusks sharpened. Cut through the dirt, cut through the unspoken shackles between you and your lady and come out on top, my friend. Now," Orion stood up. "I'm afraid that's all I can teach you. In truth, I really don't feel like this can be explained any better, or any simpler. So, what do you think about all that?"
After wiping his hand over his face, Pete replied, "I think you mean well, and I think something in that made sense, m-maybe to you, but you've really gotta work on sticking that landing for other people, man."
"Work on what?" Connor wondered.
"No, I said working out," Harper explained. "I said, 'Have you been working out?'"
Connor sat at the top step to the stairs leading into the boys' dorm with Harper standing before him at ground level. Behind them, further off on campus, a prep and a greaser fought while a prefect worked to rip them apart.
"Uh, no, not lately," he replied, his eyes on the tussle.
"The point is that you look good. Connor, are you paying attention to me?"
He faced her. "Yeah. Sorry, it's just... looking at you, I'm reminded of the kiss."
Harper let a smile slip, holding her arms together while her eyes drifted. "So, that kiss has stayed with you, huh?"
"Believe it or not, it has, but I'm not sure it's for the best of reasons. Harper, you can't just cheat on people-even people as slimy and stuck-up as your cousin."
"Well, I'm actually here to talk to you about something on the topic."
"Good, we should probably talk." Harper opened her mouth to talk, but Connor stopped her. "Hang on. Look, I thought the carnival date was fun, and I even got to kick a few asses in front of you-that was cool. But the thing is, we're just not..." He sighed. "I don't know. I don't know what it is with us, but we don't make sense."
"You're saying we should stop being friends?" she assumed.
He nodded. "Pretty much. To be honest, I wasn't even sure we were friends. It's just, I'm on your boyfriend's radar, and your whole clique is out to get me. You may not believe me when I say this, but I like you. I do, but I think we're not really the right people for each other to be... whatever we are. Friends, acquaintances, whatever."
Now, Harper nodded slowly. "I see."
Silence.
"Well? Your thoughts?" he prompted.
She shrugged. "Yeah, I would agree that we aren't friends, and that if we are, we shouldn't be anymore. I'll say something else, though."
He watched her, expectant.
"I said it before, I'll say it again: I'm a princess. Princesses aren't told no when they want something. They get whatever they want; it's part of the gist. Lately, what I've wanted has changed, and now I'm here to make sure they change to my liking."
"Not sure I know where this is headed."
"I left Oliver."
Connor's eyes widened. "O-oh?"
"Because I don't want to have him anymore. Now I want you, Connor. I want to be your princess."
