Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Goodbye, Earl ( Chapter 26 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
...and he strives to do the impossible, and dares to dream the unthinkable
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 256 | Status: Completed
...and he strives to do the impossible, and dares to dream the unthinkable
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 256 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty-Six:
“Goodbye Earl” Dixie Chicks
Max Sheridan’s first impression of Darken was an impressed one. He’d been truly intimidated by the fact that this high school, private and incredibly outrageous in terms of acceptance, was something that resembled some sci-fi movie standard. His parents and himself had moved from Yuma, Arizona; his father was actually a computer technician and his mother was a high-powered CEO of Shapely Cosmetics. Not exactly worthy of twenty-four/seven bodyguard services, but his mother had delighted in the fact that he’d be going to school with aliens. He’d been nervous about the entire thing---he was a shy, modest character that never liked to draw attention to himself, and moving to a city that was the size of a small state had sent him into fits of anxiety.
His mother, ignoring his concerns that he’d never get along with the kids in his new school, due to his looks and for the fact that he felt he didn’t fit in anywhere, had merely upped his Zoloft and told him to take it like a man. His father had also mentioned that he might have fun, here.
Well…so far…Sophia Darken was pretty okay, actually. There were a lot of personalities that didn’t fit one clique---even though there were cliques; all the traditional groups were full of their usual molds, but everyone was so different from each other. Of course, there was a lot of snotty pettiness due to 9 and a half out of ten being rich, but that was to be expected. At least here, he wasn’t going to be ostracized because his parents made shitloads of money.
In Yuma, with the Hispanics, Mexicans, Native Americans and general minority majority, he felt out of place with his white skin and mixed parents. His father, Bob, was white, and his mother was black. He resembled his father, mainly, but had his mother’s features. He was aware that being mixed was just as bad as being a minority, but so far, the only comment he’d received about his appearance was…good? He noticed that a lot of students were particularly clumsy around him. Or…if that was just in general.
Either way, this school had its share of odd kids, and he noticed with some cheer that no one bothered to go out of their way to confront him because of his mixed blood and appearance. In fact…if he didn’t know any better…they oogled him. It was embarrassing and new, and he hoped it didn’t go to his head. Boarding here wasn’t any better---his mother managed for him to obtain a private room, and he felt lonely inside, despite the fact that he was surrounded by his classmates and school mates.
It was his first time being away from home, and while his parents lived in the east section of Marysville, he felt so far away from them. But he had to admit that he had to get out more.
He’d certainly met some interesting characters here…they were all so…excited. And entirely jumpy. Not like at his old high school in Yuma, were everyone seemed subdued and hostile. Everywhere he looked, someone was screaming and jumping up and down, or kids were getting beat up, or something. And, looking around, he had seen some very attractive people. In fact, if he didn’t know anybody…it had to be a requirement. There wasn’t a person here that was average or medium in looks. Everyone was either handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, or obscenely pretty. All the girls were perfect in various heights and weight---he’d noticed that a majority of them were at least thirty-forty pounds overweight, which seemed preferable---and all the guys were muscle and male, or thin and gorgeous.
He felt a little flattered that he’d passed this requirement, but such things weren’t that big on him. He was a modest character---he wasn’t the type to base judgment according to looks.
Going through his classes, he’d met his fair share of people---but they were mainly falling around him, or had trouble speaking, for some odd reason. One senior had even choked in the middle of his sentence, and had to be revived by the school’s medics. He had no idea what happened.
And now, as he was walking to class, keeping his eyes averted from anyone that looked as if they were even looking in his direction, he could feel his blood racing with anxiety. He was trying to cut down on his meds, and had taken less than he normally did, trying to get himself to adjust to larger crowds without the use of a pill. The halls were filled with kids heading to morning classes, so it was a big thing in trying to get to class.
Then, lifting his head at one point, he looked up---and froze. There was a girl standing in front of an academic trophy case, checking her face. Her fingers were running over her cheeks in a rubbing motion, as if trying to encourage circulation. Her lips were pursed, as if she were checking the color she’d applied. Her hair, long, lush and absolutely gorgeous, swished from side to side as she moved. She was a moving body of energy, yet, there was a sense of grace in every one of her movements.
Her profile was very attractive---she had a cute nose, full lips that plumped out, a curved chin that was both strong and yet gentle, and lashes that fanned away from her ethnic eyes in a black wave. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder as she wiped a finger underneath her lower lip, then pulled the tip between her lips.
The absolutely suggestive action had him dropping his mouth open, watching that finger dip in deep, then pull out, a tiny string of saliva trailing after it. She bared her lips to check her teeth, wiping her finger on her pants.
It was his first time seeing just a blatant sex act---well…a version of one, and it was just… wow. That image stuck with him as she swept her hands through her hair, checking to see if it were in place. She tilted her head, so that both eyes were visible, lashes fanning over her flat cheeks. She then turned, an unlikely seductress of looks and grace, and scanned the crowds of kids.
Her expression turned sultry, full lips pouting outward. It was as if she were secretly undressing everyone that passed by. He had a feeling he’d seen her before---she was probably in one of his classes. But…wow. She was gorgeous…beautiful…a vision in a boy’s uniform…
“HEY, BUTT FUCK! I heard you’re talkin’ shit!” she shouted, waving at someone across the hall. “YEAH, YOU, ANDERSON! Ya wanna talk shit to my face, ‘steada my back?!”
“The HELL?! You talkin’ to me, Passage?! I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass! Don’t fuckin’ matter if you’re a fuckin’ girl!” a senior shouted at her, him and his friends turning to glare in her direction.
Max winced, and then scurried off as both students began yelling at each other. Dear Jesus…the girl may have been beautiful, but she had the mouth that belonged to a boy. Thinking about it now, she may even be a boy. He’d seen a few dressed as girls, and vice versa, actually…
Cringing at his mistake, he hurried to class, never noticing the way his classmates stumbled all over themselves just to watch him.
Once there, he took his seat, breathing a low sigh of relief. As he did so, getting comfortable in his seat and adjusting his blazer, he looked around himself. All the other kids were settling in their seats, getting ready to start class. He noticed that a girl was nearly screaming her rage at a boy, whom also looked familiar.
The boy, with an amazing amount of pale coloring, looked bored as he stared off at a point away from the girl. Another was starting in on him as well. Max stared at this scene, realizing that he knew the boy because he was with that girl…er…guy… er…pretty person that first day he’d arrived on campus. Staring for a little longer, he realized that this boy was just as attractive as the rest. He had short, pale blond hair, large blue-green eyes, and had a strength about him that suggested tons of hours of activity.
Actually…actually, he was VERY attractive. Max found himself staring in interest as the boy made an exasperated expression and roared, “Well, goddamn! For things that bleed seven freaking days out of a month and don’t die are fuckin’ demonic! If you can handle bleeding all that time, then you can fucking handle the fact that I am NOT fucking TRITON! Get off my ass about it!!”
The girls immediately began ranting and raving, causing others to look over with interest.
Max chuckled, lowering his head. Ah, yes. This must be Quatre Winner, the misogynist…from what he’d heard, girls either hated him, or…uh, disliked him immensely.
So, that pretty person must be a boy…because Quatre, as rumor said, could not get along with girls at all.
Glancing up shyly, Max stared at this vision in raving blond, and wondered what his parents would think if he told them that he was interested in a boy?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked over at Hiiro, who was busy working on a study guide they had for English Lit. The Japanese and himself had come to an agreement of sorts---while acknowledging that they had feelings for each other, most of which were, well romantic, they were not going to share them with anybody. Both were still unable to go that route. Just knowing that the other felt the same as he was good enough for him. Other things, he was sure, would come along later. He wasn’t that pressured to start acting on impulse---it took him awhile to even get this far, so Duo figured waiting for other things was quite all right.
“Here. Finished,” Hiiro muttered, handing him the guide.
“All right!” Duo crowed, taking it. “Thanks, man. I don’t think I would have gotten this down if you didn’t help out.”
“I know. Just change a few things here and there so Johnson won’t tell you copied off me,” Hiiro instructed, tapping his pencil on the desk.
They were both sitting in the library, where the rest of their class was taking the time to pick out books that would help them with their assignment. Their assignment was being delayed by lack of interest and attention, the pair concentrating on other things instead.
Duo looked up from his study guide, a puzzled expression on his face when a single sakura petal alighted onto it. He brushed it off with a faint noise as Hiiro looked around.
“Oh, it’s that guy,” he snorted, crossing his arms.
“The fairy? Hello Tink!” Duo chuckled, glancing around him at the infamous Max Sheridan.
Currently, a female classmate of theirs was fainting from sexiness overdose, and a couple of guys were trying to convince him to let them do his entire year’s worth of school work for him.
“I don’t see what the appeal is,” Hiiro gestured in Max’s general direction. His eyes narrowed as he looked in the light brown wavy hair, which looked soft enough to run his fingers through---no, wait–he wasn’t thinking those things! He had to jerk himself out of his sudden daydream in handling the guy the same way Brad Pitt was capable of handling his women on screen. It was truly disturbing that he was thinking these things about some guy…
“He’s…really…” He trailed off, because he knew he was about to say something embarrassing.
“Gay. But…in a guy-like way.”
Hiiro looked at him with a confused expression. “That totally didn’t make any sense.”
Duo blinked, then mouthed what he’d just said. “Yeah. You’re right. It don’t.”
They both looked at Max as he took his seat at a nearby table, and fumbled with his notebook. There were three students there that instantly began talking at the same time, trying to show him how to work the thing. He ended up with a confused expression amidst the continuous chatter and pointing. One thing led to another, and two of the kids began fist-fighting while the other put his head between his knees in an attempt to revive himself.
Duo snorted, shaking his head. “Idiots. Just because he has nice lips doesn’t mean I’m all over him…”
Hiiro looked at him sharply, frowning. “‘Nice lips’?”
“What? You think he has nice lips?” Duo asked, looking at him with a stricken expression.
“No, that’s what you said.”
“I didn’t say that. I was talking about his shoes. Hiiro, you’re hearing things.”
“No, I swear, that’s what you said.”
“Hiiro, why would I talk about his lips?!” Duo growled, shaking his head and flipping his braid over his shoulder. “I think the guy’s a fruit! He ain’t nothing of interest to me! Despite those really nice highlights and the way he wrinkles his nose when he smiles---”
“See?! There you go!”
“I was just talking about his shoes, man! His SHOES!”
Hiiro threw up his arms with an exasperated sigh. Duo gave him a disgusted expression, and snorted, leaning back in his chair so that two legs were propped in the air. “Really, man, clear out those ears of yours.”
“Duo, you---”
“Yo, what’s up my white boy homies?”
Both looked up to see Felicia dropping her notebook (covered with nearly nude stickers of various men) and looking beyond them. Her cheeks reddened, and she grinned. “Holy COW! He’s in our class?!”
“If you came to class, you would have known that!” Hiiro snarled, edging his things from the girl. He didn’t like her. Never would.
“EEK! He’s so cute…I must have him. But I can’t talk to him. Damn it! Hey! YOU! GET OVER HERE!” Felicia demanded in a threatening way, to one of their more timid classmates. The boy dropped everything in his haste to run over. She pointed at Max. “See him? What’s your opinion on that guy?”
“Er, uh, ah, well, he’s---” the boy sweated profusely, growing visibly flustered. Hiiro and Duo stared at him with visible expressions of scorn. This only made him even more so, stuttering and stammering so incoherently that Felicia whacked him across the back. This action sent the boy into the table with a startled ‘oof!’
“Spit it out!”
“Oh! Uh, well, he’s…oh, um, that’s Max Sheridan.” The boy blinked repeatedly, then nodded, happy that he was able to answer her question without her inflicting violence or something of the sort on him. He was just an innocent guy…
Felicia shoved him away from her. As the boy sailed over a table and landed against a magazine rack, she withdrew a handful of wrapped chocolates from her pocket. “Excuse me, boys…I need to do something, here.”
Duo and Hiiro watched as she walked over to Max, presenting the chocolates. Then she added a few words they couldn’t hear, but Max looked over at them with a startled expression. The pair immediately grew concerned and a little frightened as he gave them a hesitant expression, then shook his head furiously, blushing. The girl shrugged, forcefully shoved the chocolates into his hands, and then returned to pick up her things.
“What’d you say to him?” Hiiro asked, frowning up at her.
“Oh. I just asked him what he thought of you two studs. If he were interested in joining ya’ll for a little threesome. I’m trying to ask him without asking if he’s gay, or not. So many people are wondering.”
“YOU WHAT?!” Duo screeched, turning red as he recalled Max’s expression.
“Passage, you ---!”
“Chill, chill! For the record, he wasn’t hitting on it. Said he was flattered, but he was interested in someone else. So, either he ain’t gay, or he’s crushing on some hot stud.”
She walked off, whistling “Chim Chim Cher-ee.”
Hiiro and Duo gave each other disgusted looks, and then looked back at Max. The poor boy looked as if he were trying to hide behind an obscenely large reference book, turning bright red.
“I’m not interested in that,” Hiiro snorted. “I can’t believe she said that.”
“Yeah! Just because he has the cutest ass that never jiggles or that he---”
“DUO!”
“What?! I’m just saying, just cuz he’s got ice in his ears---!”
“YOU DID NOT!”
Duo stared at Hiiro as if he suddenly grew two heads, and then shook his own as he shuffled through the options on his notebook.
“You’re so weird, Hee-chan. Sometimes, I don’t know what you’re thinkin’. Really, cut down on the steroids.”
“Shut up, Duo.”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Jared watched as Quatre left his backpack to look over his options within the vending machine. Glancing both ways, he then left his hiding spot from around the staircase, and hurried by, dropping the envelope into the boy’s open backpack. When he glanced back to see if his mission was accomplished, Quatre had turned around to drop whatever it was he’d gotten into his open bag. The blond then picked it up, hauled it over his shoulder, and walked off, heading toward the main school building. Jared chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands.
Mission accomplished. Now, he’ll just wait for the adventure to begin. Ever since he discovered Middie Une had a lot in common with him, the pair had been talking seriously about the many ways in which they could ruin the blond’s life. It felt good to connect with someone that thought the same as he, and Jared was eagerly looking forward for the rest of their plans to commence. Two heads had always thought better than one.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre walked to class, thinking about the game against Stanton. Jake called regularly to try and convince him to call in sick that night---because he was going to school him like never before. Of course, this only had Quatre pumped in a way that made him eager to play against the older student. Jake didn’t intimidate him with his skills---merely encouraged him to do his best. Of course, Stanton was Darken’s biggest rival (with Duncan Jones coming in a close second), so the rest of Darken’s students were making it into a very big deal.
Of course, afterward, there was that entirely stupid Valentine’s Day dance. He did not care for dances, and wouldn’t start thinking of them now. He and Felicia had planned on going out that night, anyway. FAR from wherever Triton tried to show up, of course.
“We’ll go to Vegas, baby!” she’d crowed in joy.
But Quatre had to admit, he felt a little down in that he didn’t have anybody to be with that special lover’s day. Then he had to roll his eyes at himself. He’d never felt that way before---why should he start now?
Sighing, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and looked up at the morning sky. It was nearly twenty minutes til eight, and already all Darken students were up and about. Some were talking loudly on their way to class, dressed warmly because it was threatening to snow.
He walked into the building, then walked back out abruptly. There was Trowa, standing with Sylvia. He had to scowl at their closeness, at the way Sylvia laughed and said something that made Trowa roll his eyes. Jealousy hit him suddenly, and he gripped the door, gritting his teeth. Yes, he knew what happened in the past. Yes, he knew he was over Trowa, and didn’t want to get back with him.
But this jealousy had to do with something else, he suspected. Now that Trowa was doing his goth thing again, Quatre suddenly felt that he was missing out on something. Maybe it was just because when Trowa dressed that way, he was immediately transported back to when things were new and good between them.
The way he’d scream at Trowa for being a suicidal drag-queen…the way Trowa would pin him down to pop all his back pimples…the way things were so awesome between them both…
His fingers made an ominous screeching noise against the glass as he made nervous fists. Well…that time was gone, obviously. Things happened, and they moved on. But…but why was he having second thoughts now that Trowa was back to that?
“Um…Quatre?”
Quatre jumped in surprise, whirling around, reddening at the thought of being caught staring at his ex and his new toy. He then froze as he realized he was facing Max Sheridan, who was looking entirely nervous and embarrassed as he stood there. For a few moments, Quatre’s brain shorted out, rendering him unable to think of anything to say or do. Max was just so…lovely…
“Good morning,” Max then blurted, flushing again, then hurrying off with a sheepish cringe of his shoulders.
Quatre then began coughing when he’d sharply inhaled cherry blossom petals. Where the hell were these things coming from?!
Recovering, he looked off in the direction that Max had taken, and felt more than cheered. Does this mean that the boy had some interest in him? But…he’d thought the guy was straight…after all, he never made any obvious indications of his preferences, and treated both girls and boys the same. Blinking repeatedly, he forgot about Trowa and Sylvia, and ventured off in the direction of his first morning class.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia was busy picking at the annoying little hairs on her arms when she looked up at the clock, realizing she had to pee. She rose from her seat, strolling up to the front of the class to let the teacher know that she must have ate something that wasn’t adjusting well to her insides, and walked out from the classroom. Whistling, she scraped the hall pass on the wall as she slowly made her way down to the bathroom located across the school building. This one was normally reserved for the teachers, but she used bathrooms that were always located far from her classrooms so that she could wander about.
She passed a couple of kids she didn’t feel like terrorizing, and walked down the main hall. She wondered what Quatre was doing, a little embarrassed at her feelings for the guy. He just made her so happy, being his psychotic little self. Just thinking about him made her smile. Then, thinking about his bad news, she sighed, feeling more than let down.
“And he wondered why I wanted to drop outta school,” she muttered, shaking her head. She was dressed in the usual boy’s uniform, complete with tie and blazer, and didn’t think too much about fixing her hair or applying makeup. There was really no one to impress, and she figured that if a guy liked her, then they’d just better like her without her makeup, anyway. She snorted at that thought. Like any of the guys around here liked her, anyway.
And it wasn’t as if Quatre were going to turn straight anytime soon and declare his love for her. She knew that. That was an outrageous lie that had no appeal with continuation.
As for the rest of the male population at Darken, they were either afraid of her, or thought of her as a guy with boobs. Well…hmm…with feminine features lacking boobs. She stopped in the middle of the hall, and looked down at her chest. Reaching up, she clutched the twin mounds that were tucked away behind her sports bra---underwear of choice---and jiggled them.
“Hell, I have boobs,” she muttered, dropping them. Sure, she kept them hidden away, but it wasn’t as if she were ashamed of them. She wore low cut shirts and such with appropriate Victoria’s Secret material…she just preferred the binding material of her sports bra. They just fit better underneath her uniform and casual t-shirts.
She looked up to walk again, and froze in place, burning to a crisp with embarrassment.
Max stood there, burning red with embarrassment as well. He’d obviously seen her ‘adjust’ herself.
She gave him a weak smile, for once (or twice, counting that one time with Quatre) she was struck dumb with silence. She felt incapable of thought or feeling as he ducked his head.
“Good morning!” he said, a little shakily.
“Yo.”
“Er…I…I’ve always been curious about something,” he continued.
Felicia had to blink away the wandering thoughts that had her tuning out his words---his voice was just so smooth and so classically male that it seemed to shorten out her thinking process. Secretly musically inclined, all she could do was memorize the pitch and tenor of his voice and attune it to something fitting a crooning rock song. Or…something…
Then she realized he was still talking to her, looking at her with a waiting expression. She blinked again. “I left my right sock at home!”
Max blinked. Then looked confused. And then sympathetic, clasping his hands together. The diamonds in his ears winked as he tilted his head to look down at her shoes, as if looking to verify that displaced information.
“I’m very…sorry.”
Then he laughed, a sound that had Felicia’s heart leaping into her throat. Such a, uh, interesting sound. His laughter was a mixture of snorts and childish chuckles that was neither appealing, nor lacking. It just sort of beaned her in the middle of the forehead, rendering her apparently lacking in her own thinking process again. Bishies were supposed to have musically perfect laughter, not something you’d expect from a hyperactive girl.
“Then you are walking about with one sock?”
“It’s quite all right---You have a tongue stud?!” she gasped, having glimpsed the flash of metal in his mouth.
“Oh…um, yes. I got it when I turned sixteen.” With a sort of nervous expression, he stuck his tongue out. But instead of a traditional tongue stud, it was a multi-color vitamin that rested on the pink muscle. She was a little surprised. Here, she thought he was much too…what’s the word…innocent for that sort of thing.
“That’s weird.”
“I have others, too…I have one that’s in the shape of, uh, food. And one in shape of gum. And another in shape of…uh, well, an Ecstasy pill, and another that’s just a plain stud…But, anyway, about yesterday, when you asked me…uh, that question concerning…um, those two boys,” he began, wiping a wave of light brown bangs from his forehead.
His eyebrows were also damn perfect. Not that he tweezed them, but that they were just centered where they were supposed to be, and groomed, where guys’ were commonly lacking in that sense. Her eyes were searching for flaws, and she was growing disappointed at finding none.
There should have been some pimples here and there, some stray eyelash. Or perhaps a unibrow, or unruly eyebrows that made her itch to trim and tweeze them. Or faintly chapped lips. Or a childish growth of ‘stubble’. Something that made this boy human!
She even ventured close to sniff him. Nope. No lingering traces of body odor. Just fresh clean naturalness. She ignored the fact that he was looking at her as if she were the most oddest thing he’d ever seen. He was taller than her, so she had to look up at him. But it wasn’t as if she were craning her head back, straining her neck in an awkward position.
Then she realized she was comparing him to Quatre, and had to reel herself back. This Max and Quatre were two different people. One wasn’t going to find the same qualities in both.
“Did you just smell me?” he asked, blinking.
“Yeah. Animals identify one another through scent.”
So…does that mean you’re going to sniff my ass?”
She snorted, then laughed. “NO!!!”
“That’s what animals do! Let me smell you.” He leaned over, and sniffed. She grew self conscious all of a sudden, mind frantically racing through a list of things that made her hope for a good marking. She’d taken a shower…used her favorite apple-scented lotion and applied clothing before it dried, so that the scent rubbed off on her clothes. She’d also spritzed on her favorite perfume, something by Clinique called ‘Simply’.
Her eyes widened, and her face heated to something uncomfortably warm when his cheek brushed against hers. Blinking in glazed wonder, she realized she hadn’t felt this way about a guy since Hautta…which made her wonder who that was and why the name was so familiar…this Max guy made her all silly.
He drew back with a slight curve of his lips. “You smell good. Like a girl.”
She gave him an insulted expression. “Et tu, newbie?”
“What, you didn’t like me saying that?”
“For your information, asshole, I am a girl! Despite my natural tendencies to run about like a man!”
“Are you a lesbian?”
“I’M MISUNDERSTOOD!” she growled.
“Oh. I see. Well…I’m running off subject here,” he then said, stepping back from her. “About yesterday…”
“I’m trying to find out what you prefer,” she interrupted, frowning at him. “My friend is single, and I’m trying to set him up.”
“ ‘Him’?”
“Are you, or aren’t you?”
“I…I…can’t answer that question.”
“Why not? It’s a simple yes or no answer. God, do I have to give the speech to you, too?! Look, everything and anything in this school goes. New Park accepts everything and anything BUT minorities! So, me, as a minority, does not get accepted very well. But you, as either bi or homo or straight, will be accepted no matter what you do or prefer. There’s always someone here in this fuckin’ school that fits one’s taste---”
“So, which do you prefer?”
“GARGH. Males. I prefer males. Lesbians make me iffy…”
“What’s your type?”
“Uh…someone that can put me in my place, I suppose.”
“Why? Why can’t they just work with you? As an equal?”
She snorted, shaking her head. Then laughed. “Are you fuckin’ serious?! Dude, you truly don’t know me. Ask around about me. Then come to me about that shit! Hey, I’m late for class. I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. My teacher’s gonna spank me silly…”
“I don’t know your name!” he called after her.
“Oh, it’s Felicia. That’s all that you’ll need to know!”
“Felicia,” he repeated, drawing his thoughtfully around the name.
He watched as she hurried off, running not like a girl (arms swinging here and there, hips swishing), but like an athlete. Someone with a powerful stride and an inclination to sprint at the drop of a hat.
Then, with a contented smile, Max walked on to class, saying her name over and over again, liking the way it flowed from his lips.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre had just set his bag on the table, fishing his wallet for some change when Trowa walked over, slugging his arm.
“OW!”
“Bastard,” Trowa said companionably. He looked into his open bag. “This is, for once, without a basketball…Are those actual school books?”
“And is this actually my fist slamming across your face?”
Trowa chuckled as Quatre stared at the vending machine, looking for something fun to eat. Trowa looked back into the open bag, and noticed an envelope crammed between his notebook and a paperback text on Wounded Knee. When he stepped at an angle, he could see that Quatre’s name was scrawled on the envelope with a male scrawl. He looked back at Quatre, who was suddenly occupied with shaking and pounding on the vending machine. Smoothly, Trowa retrieved the envelope and pocketed it.
“So, you and Sylvia, huh?” Quatre asked, glancing back at him. The pack of Rolos were caught in the wire, hanging so damn close over the edge. He pounded on the machine once more.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Trowa muttered, examining his painted fingernails once more. “But…yes…we’re seeing each other…”
“Of course,” Quatre murmured, moving to the side of the vending machine. He made the thing rock, causing a lot of sound in doing so. Several packets of various candies and chips lost their place in their respected places, falling into the bin.
“Are you jealous?” Trowa asked, leaning against the wall.
“NO! NO I’M NOT!”
“No need to sound as if you’re going back through puberty, Quat,” Trowa muttered with a wince, rubbing his ears. Then he grinned, leaning forward as Quatre retrieved all that had fallen into the bin. “Aw…you still have feelings for me!”
“Drop dead and die, you make-up wearing drug freak,” Quatre grumbled, holding his Rolos with a frown.
“Don’t worry---I may still have some feelings for you…”
Quatre looked at him sharply, blinking as he paused in dropping his ‘purchases’ in his open bag. He felt a vague sense of hope and nervousness as he stared at his ex, noting the unusual tie with the naked woman depicted on it.
“Really…?””Of course. Whenever I see a bruise upon my skin, I’ll fondly think of you. Whenever I see some girl beating on a guy, I’ll always put you in her place. And whenever I’m dumping, the smell will always make me think of the way you---”
“All right, all right!!” Quatre shouted, glaring at him.
“You’re always in my heart, Quat. Always…”
“Stupid prat licking son of a bitch makeup wearing drag queen dancing asshole,” Quatre muttered as he walked off, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Trowa grinned, then turned, withdrawing the envelope from his pocket. He stared at the handwriting in front, wondering who the hell it was that was trying to woo his ex. He noticed that it was particularly light…he opened it, carefully sliding his finger within the lip, and looked inside.
There was nothing there. Blinking, he turned the envelope over, waving it about. He was immediately covered with a light, gold powder that settled over his clothing and skin.
“Aw, shit!” he cursed, brushing at it, then froze. What the hell was this stuff?!
Cautiously, he lifted his arm, looking at the powder. Knowing it was entirely stupid, he licked a small part of it, and immediately recognized it as Gin-Gin.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, brushing at his clothes. He looked around wildly, then hurried up the stairway to his room. What the hell was Quatre doing with Gin Gin?! Was he a closeted druggie?! And if so, why the hell was he all over his ass about him doing drugs?! And why didn’t he share?!
The selfish bastard…
Trowa hurried into his room, thrusting the envelope aside. He brushed off his clothes, then changed out of them. Glaring at the envelope, he snarled at the thought of Quatre being a druggie. The drug, in powder form, was easily absorbed within the skin, leaving a user without any telltale marks or without the indication of smoking, the way it was commonly used. It was slower to affect a person that way, but its resulting actions were the same. He’d never take Quatre as a druggie---seeing the blond even trying a cigarette had been hilarious. But here, this thing was in his backpack…
Shaking his head, Trowa took the envelope, and walked out from the room. He walked over to the bathrooms down the hall, and stuffed it to the very bottom of the full canister. Then he hurried out, sure that he was going to be late for class. After school, he was going to rip the blond a new one for being a hypocrite…
“Goodbye Earl” Dixie Chicks
Max Sheridan’s first impression of Darken was an impressed one. He’d been truly intimidated by the fact that this high school, private and incredibly outrageous in terms of acceptance, was something that resembled some sci-fi movie standard. His parents and himself had moved from Yuma, Arizona; his father was actually a computer technician and his mother was a high-powered CEO of Shapely Cosmetics. Not exactly worthy of twenty-four/seven bodyguard services, but his mother had delighted in the fact that he’d be going to school with aliens. He’d been nervous about the entire thing---he was a shy, modest character that never liked to draw attention to himself, and moving to a city that was the size of a small state had sent him into fits of anxiety.
His mother, ignoring his concerns that he’d never get along with the kids in his new school, due to his looks and for the fact that he felt he didn’t fit in anywhere, had merely upped his Zoloft and told him to take it like a man. His father had also mentioned that he might have fun, here.
Well…so far…Sophia Darken was pretty okay, actually. There were a lot of personalities that didn’t fit one clique---even though there were cliques; all the traditional groups were full of their usual molds, but everyone was so different from each other. Of course, there was a lot of snotty pettiness due to 9 and a half out of ten being rich, but that was to be expected. At least here, he wasn’t going to be ostracized because his parents made shitloads of money.
In Yuma, with the Hispanics, Mexicans, Native Americans and general minority majority, he felt out of place with his white skin and mixed parents. His father, Bob, was white, and his mother was black. He resembled his father, mainly, but had his mother’s features. He was aware that being mixed was just as bad as being a minority, but so far, the only comment he’d received about his appearance was…good? He noticed that a lot of students were particularly clumsy around him. Or…if that was just in general.
Either way, this school had its share of odd kids, and he noticed with some cheer that no one bothered to go out of their way to confront him because of his mixed blood and appearance. In fact…if he didn’t know any better…they oogled him. It was embarrassing and new, and he hoped it didn’t go to his head. Boarding here wasn’t any better---his mother managed for him to obtain a private room, and he felt lonely inside, despite the fact that he was surrounded by his classmates and school mates.
It was his first time being away from home, and while his parents lived in the east section of Marysville, he felt so far away from them. But he had to admit that he had to get out more.
He’d certainly met some interesting characters here…they were all so…excited. And entirely jumpy. Not like at his old high school in Yuma, were everyone seemed subdued and hostile. Everywhere he looked, someone was screaming and jumping up and down, or kids were getting beat up, or something. And, looking around, he had seen some very attractive people. In fact, if he didn’t know anybody…it had to be a requirement. There wasn’t a person here that was average or medium in looks. Everyone was either handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, or obscenely pretty. All the girls were perfect in various heights and weight---he’d noticed that a majority of them were at least thirty-forty pounds overweight, which seemed preferable---and all the guys were muscle and male, or thin and gorgeous.
He felt a little flattered that he’d passed this requirement, but such things weren’t that big on him. He was a modest character---he wasn’t the type to base judgment according to looks.
Going through his classes, he’d met his fair share of people---but they were mainly falling around him, or had trouble speaking, for some odd reason. One senior had even choked in the middle of his sentence, and had to be revived by the school’s medics. He had no idea what happened.
And now, as he was walking to class, keeping his eyes averted from anyone that looked as if they were even looking in his direction, he could feel his blood racing with anxiety. He was trying to cut down on his meds, and had taken less than he normally did, trying to get himself to adjust to larger crowds without the use of a pill. The halls were filled with kids heading to morning classes, so it was a big thing in trying to get to class.
Then, lifting his head at one point, he looked up---and froze. There was a girl standing in front of an academic trophy case, checking her face. Her fingers were running over her cheeks in a rubbing motion, as if trying to encourage circulation. Her lips were pursed, as if she were checking the color she’d applied. Her hair, long, lush and absolutely gorgeous, swished from side to side as she moved. She was a moving body of energy, yet, there was a sense of grace in every one of her movements.
Her profile was very attractive---she had a cute nose, full lips that plumped out, a curved chin that was both strong and yet gentle, and lashes that fanned away from her ethnic eyes in a black wave. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder as she wiped a finger underneath her lower lip, then pulled the tip between her lips.
The absolutely suggestive action had him dropping his mouth open, watching that finger dip in deep, then pull out, a tiny string of saliva trailing after it. She bared her lips to check her teeth, wiping her finger on her pants.
It was his first time seeing just a blatant sex act---well…a version of one, and it was just… wow. That image stuck with him as she swept her hands through her hair, checking to see if it were in place. She tilted her head, so that both eyes were visible, lashes fanning over her flat cheeks. She then turned, an unlikely seductress of looks and grace, and scanned the crowds of kids.
Her expression turned sultry, full lips pouting outward. It was as if she were secretly undressing everyone that passed by. He had a feeling he’d seen her before---she was probably in one of his classes. But…wow. She was gorgeous…beautiful…a vision in a boy’s uniform…
“HEY, BUTT FUCK! I heard you’re talkin’ shit!” she shouted, waving at someone across the hall. “YEAH, YOU, ANDERSON! Ya wanna talk shit to my face, ‘steada my back?!”
“The HELL?! You talkin’ to me, Passage?! I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass! Don’t fuckin’ matter if you’re a fuckin’ girl!” a senior shouted at her, him and his friends turning to glare in her direction.
Max winced, and then scurried off as both students began yelling at each other. Dear Jesus…the girl may have been beautiful, but she had the mouth that belonged to a boy. Thinking about it now, she may even be a boy. He’d seen a few dressed as girls, and vice versa, actually…
Cringing at his mistake, he hurried to class, never noticing the way his classmates stumbled all over themselves just to watch him.
Once there, he took his seat, breathing a low sigh of relief. As he did so, getting comfortable in his seat and adjusting his blazer, he looked around himself. All the other kids were settling in their seats, getting ready to start class. He noticed that a girl was nearly screaming her rage at a boy, whom also looked familiar.
The boy, with an amazing amount of pale coloring, looked bored as he stared off at a point away from the girl. Another was starting in on him as well. Max stared at this scene, realizing that he knew the boy because he was with that girl…er…guy… er…pretty person that first day he’d arrived on campus. Staring for a little longer, he realized that this boy was just as attractive as the rest. He had short, pale blond hair, large blue-green eyes, and had a strength about him that suggested tons of hours of activity.
Actually…actually, he was VERY attractive. Max found himself staring in interest as the boy made an exasperated expression and roared, “Well, goddamn! For things that bleed seven freaking days out of a month and don’t die are fuckin’ demonic! If you can handle bleeding all that time, then you can fucking handle the fact that I am NOT fucking TRITON! Get off my ass about it!!”
The girls immediately began ranting and raving, causing others to look over with interest.
Max chuckled, lowering his head. Ah, yes. This must be Quatre Winner, the misogynist…from what he’d heard, girls either hated him, or…uh, disliked him immensely.
So, that pretty person must be a boy…because Quatre, as rumor said, could not get along with girls at all.
Glancing up shyly, Max stared at this vision in raving blond, and wondered what his parents would think if he told them that he was interested in a boy?
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Duo looked over at Hiiro, who was busy working on a study guide they had for English Lit. The Japanese and himself had come to an agreement of sorts---while acknowledging that they had feelings for each other, most of which were, well romantic, they were not going to share them with anybody. Both were still unable to go that route. Just knowing that the other felt the same as he was good enough for him. Other things, he was sure, would come along later. He wasn’t that pressured to start acting on impulse---it took him awhile to even get this far, so Duo figured waiting for other things was quite all right.
“Here. Finished,” Hiiro muttered, handing him the guide.
“All right!” Duo crowed, taking it. “Thanks, man. I don’t think I would have gotten this down if you didn’t help out.”
“I know. Just change a few things here and there so Johnson won’t tell you copied off me,” Hiiro instructed, tapping his pencil on the desk.
They were both sitting in the library, where the rest of their class was taking the time to pick out books that would help them with their assignment. Their assignment was being delayed by lack of interest and attention, the pair concentrating on other things instead.
Duo looked up from his study guide, a puzzled expression on his face when a single sakura petal alighted onto it. He brushed it off with a faint noise as Hiiro looked around.
“Oh, it’s that guy,” he snorted, crossing his arms.
“The fairy? Hello Tink!” Duo chuckled, glancing around him at the infamous Max Sheridan.
Currently, a female classmate of theirs was fainting from sexiness overdose, and a couple of guys were trying to convince him to let them do his entire year’s worth of school work for him.
“I don’t see what the appeal is,” Hiiro gestured in Max’s general direction. His eyes narrowed as he looked in the light brown wavy hair, which looked soft enough to run his fingers through---no, wait–he wasn’t thinking those things! He had to jerk himself out of his sudden daydream in handling the guy the same way Brad Pitt was capable of handling his women on screen. It was truly disturbing that he was thinking these things about some guy…
“He’s…really…” He trailed off, because he knew he was about to say something embarrassing.
“Gay. But…in a guy-like way.”
Hiiro looked at him with a confused expression. “That totally didn’t make any sense.”
Duo blinked, then mouthed what he’d just said. “Yeah. You’re right. It don’t.”
They both looked at Max as he took his seat at a nearby table, and fumbled with his notebook. There were three students there that instantly began talking at the same time, trying to show him how to work the thing. He ended up with a confused expression amidst the continuous chatter and pointing. One thing led to another, and two of the kids began fist-fighting while the other put his head between his knees in an attempt to revive himself.
Duo snorted, shaking his head. “Idiots. Just because he has nice lips doesn’t mean I’m all over him…”
Hiiro looked at him sharply, frowning. “‘Nice lips’?”
“What? You think he has nice lips?” Duo asked, looking at him with a stricken expression.
“No, that’s what you said.”
“I didn’t say that. I was talking about his shoes. Hiiro, you’re hearing things.”
“No, I swear, that’s what you said.”
“Hiiro, why would I talk about his lips?!” Duo growled, shaking his head and flipping his braid over his shoulder. “I think the guy’s a fruit! He ain’t nothing of interest to me! Despite those really nice highlights and the way he wrinkles his nose when he smiles---”
“See?! There you go!”
“I was just talking about his shoes, man! His SHOES!”
Hiiro threw up his arms with an exasperated sigh. Duo gave him a disgusted expression, and snorted, leaning back in his chair so that two legs were propped in the air. “Really, man, clear out those ears of yours.”
“Duo, you---”
“Yo, what’s up my white boy homies?”
Both looked up to see Felicia dropping her notebook (covered with nearly nude stickers of various men) and looking beyond them. Her cheeks reddened, and she grinned. “Holy COW! He’s in our class?!”
“If you came to class, you would have known that!” Hiiro snarled, edging his things from the girl. He didn’t like her. Never would.
“EEK! He’s so cute…I must have him. But I can’t talk to him. Damn it! Hey! YOU! GET OVER HERE!” Felicia demanded in a threatening way, to one of their more timid classmates. The boy dropped everything in his haste to run over. She pointed at Max. “See him? What’s your opinion on that guy?”
“Er, uh, ah, well, he’s---” the boy sweated profusely, growing visibly flustered. Hiiro and Duo stared at him with visible expressions of scorn. This only made him even more so, stuttering and stammering so incoherently that Felicia whacked him across the back. This action sent the boy into the table with a startled ‘oof!’
“Spit it out!”
“Oh! Uh, well, he’s…oh, um, that’s Max Sheridan.” The boy blinked repeatedly, then nodded, happy that he was able to answer her question without her inflicting violence or something of the sort on him. He was just an innocent guy…
Felicia shoved him away from her. As the boy sailed over a table and landed against a magazine rack, she withdrew a handful of wrapped chocolates from her pocket. “Excuse me, boys…I need to do something, here.”
Duo and Hiiro watched as she walked over to Max, presenting the chocolates. Then she added a few words they couldn’t hear, but Max looked over at them with a startled expression. The pair immediately grew concerned and a little frightened as he gave them a hesitant expression, then shook his head furiously, blushing. The girl shrugged, forcefully shoved the chocolates into his hands, and then returned to pick up her things.
“What’d you say to him?” Hiiro asked, frowning up at her.
“Oh. I just asked him what he thought of you two studs. If he were interested in joining ya’ll for a little threesome. I’m trying to ask him without asking if he’s gay, or not. So many people are wondering.”
“YOU WHAT?!” Duo screeched, turning red as he recalled Max’s expression.
“Passage, you ---!”
“Chill, chill! For the record, he wasn’t hitting on it. Said he was flattered, but he was interested in someone else. So, either he ain’t gay, or he’s crushing on some hot stud.”
She walked off, whistling “Chim Chim Cher-ee.”
Hiiro and Duo gave each other disgusted looks, and then looked back at Max. The poor boy looked as if he were trying to hide behind an obscenely large reference book, turning bright red.
“I’m not interested in that,” Hiiro snorted. “I can’t believe she said that.”
“Yeah! Just because he has the cutest ass that never jiggles or that he---”
“DUO!”
“What?! I’m just saying, just cuz he’s got ice in his ears---!”
“YOU DID NOT!”
Duo stared at Hiiro as if he suddenly grew two heads, and then shook his own as he shuffled through the options on his notebook.
“You’re so weird, Hee-chan. Sometimes, I don’t know what you’re thinkin’. Really, cut down on the steroids.”
“Shut up, Duo.”
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Jared watched as Quatre left his backpack to look over his options within the vending machine. Glancing both ways, he then left his hiding spot from around the staircase, and hurried by, dropping the envelope into the boy’s open backpack. When he glanced back to see if his mission was accomplished, Quatre had turned around to drop whatever it was he’d gotten into his open bag. The blond then picked it up, hauled it over his shoulder, and walked off, heading toward the main school building. Jared chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands.
Mission accomplished. Now, he’ll just wait for the adventure to begin. Ever since he discovered Middie Une had a lot in common with him, the pair had been talking seriously about the many ways in which they could ruin the blond’s life. It felt good to connect with someone that thought the same as he, and Jared was eagerly looking forward for the rest of their plans to commence. Two heads had always thought better than one.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre walked to class, thinking about the game against Stanton. Jake called regularly to try and convince him to call in sick that night---because he was going to school him like never before. Of course, this only had Quatre pumped in a way that made him eager to play against the older student. Jake didn’t intimidate him with his skills---merely encouraged him to do his best. Of course, Stanton was Darken’s biggest rival (with Duncan Jones coming in a close second), so the rest of Darken’s students were making it into a very big deal.
Of course, afterward, there was that entirely stupid Valentine’s Day dance. He did not care for dances, and wouldn’t start thinking of them now. He and Felicia had planned on going out that night, anyway. FAR from wherever Triton tried to show up, of course.
“We’ll go to Vegas, baby!” she’d crowed in joy.
But Quatre had to admit, he felt a little down in that he didn’t have anybody to be with that special lover’s day. Then he had to roll his eyes at himself. He’d never felt that way before---why should he start now?
Sighing, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and looked up at the morning sky. It was nearly twenty minutes til eight, and already all Darken students were up and about. Some were talking loudly on their way to class, dressed warmly because it was threatening to snow.
He walked into the building, then walked back out abruptly. There was Trowa, standing with Sylvia. He had to scowl at their closeness, at the way Sylvia laughed and said something that made Trowa roll his eyes. Jealousy hit him suddenly, and he gripped the door, gritting his teeth. Yes, he knew what happened in the past. Yes, he knew he was over Trowa, and didn’t want to get back with him.
But this jealousy had to do with something else, he suspected. Now that Trowa was doing his goth thing again, Quatre suddenly felt that he was missing out on something. Maybe it was just because when Trowa dressed that way, he was immediately transported back to when things were new and good between them.
The way he’d scream at Trowa for being a suicidal drag-queen…the way Trowa would pin him down to pop all his back pimples…the way things were so awesome between them both…
His fingers made an ominous screeching noise against the glass as he made nervous fists. Well…that time was gone, obviously. Things happened, and they moved on. But…but why was he having second thoughts now that Trowa was back to that?
“Um…Quatre?”
Quatre jumped in surprise, whirling around, reddening at the thought of being caught staring at his ex and his new toy. He then froze as he realized he was facing Max Sheridan, who was looking entirely nervous and embarrassed as he stood there. For a few moments, Quatre’s brain shorted out, rendering him unable to think of anything to say or do. Max was just so…lovely…
“Good morning,” Max then blurted, flushing again, then hurrying off with a sheepish cringe of his shoulders.
Quatre then began coughing when he’d sharply inhaled cherry blossom petals. Where the hell were these things coming from?!
Recovering, he looked off in the direction that Max had taken, and felt more than cheered. Does this mean that the boy had some interest in him? But…he’d thought the guy was straight…after all, he never made any obvious indications of his preferences, and treated both girls and boys the same. Blinking repeatedly, he forgot about Trowa and Sylvia, and ventured off in the direction of his first morning class.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia was busy picking at the annoying little hairs on her arms when she looked up at the clock, realizing she had to pee. She rose from her seat, strolling up to the front of the class to let the teacher know that she must have ate something that wasn’t adjusting well to her insides, and walked out from the classroom. Whistling, she scraped the hall pass on the wall as she slowly made her way down to the bathroom located across the school building. This one was normally reserved for the teachers, but she used bathrooms that were always located far from her classrooms so that she could wander about.
She passed a couple of kids she didn’t feel like terrorizing, and walked down the main hall. She wondered what Quatre was doing, a little embarrassed at her feelings for the guy. He just made her so happy, being his psychotic little self. Just thinking about him made her smile. Then, thinking about his bad news, she sighed, feeling more than let down.
“And he wondered why I wanted to drop outta school,” she muttered, shaking her head. She was dressed in the usual boy’s uniform, complete with tie and blazer, and didn’t think too much about fixing her hair or applying makeup. There was really no one to impress, and she figured that if a guy liked her, then they’d just better like her without her makeup, anyway. She snorted at that thought. Like any of the guys around here liked her, anyway.
And it wasn’t as if Quatre were going to turn straight anytime soon and declare his love for her. She knew that. That was an outrageous lie that had no appeal with continuation.
As for the rest of the male population at Darken, they were either afraid of her, or thought of her as a guy with boobs. Well…hmm…with feminine features lacking boobs. She stopped in the middle of the hall, and looked down at her chest. Reaching up, she clutched the twin mounds that were tucked away behind her sports bra---underwear of choice---and jiggled them.
“Hell, I have boobs,” she muttered, dropping them. Sure, she kept them hidden away, but it wasn’t as if she were ashamed of them. She wore low cut shirts and such with appropriate Victoria’s Secret material…she just preferred the binding material of her sports bra. They just fit better underneath her uniform and casual t-shirts.
She looked up to walk again, and froze in place, burning to a crisp with embarrassment.
Max stood there, burning red with embarrassment as well. He’d obviously seen her ‘adjust’ herself.
She gave him a weak smile, for once (or twice, counting that one time with Quatre) she was struck dumb with silence. She felt incapable of thought or feeling as he ducked his head.
“Good morning!” he said, a little shakily.
“Yo.”
“Er…I…I’ve always been curious about something,” he continued.
Felicia had to blink away the wandering thoughts that had her tuning out his words---his voice was just so smooth and so classically male that it seemed to shorten out her thinking process. Secretly musically inclined, all she could do was memorize the pitch and tenor of his voice and attune it to something fitting a crooning rock song. Or…something…
Then she realized he was still talking to her, looking at her with a waiting expression. She blinked again. “I left my right sock at home!”
Max blinked. Then looked confused. And then sympathetic, clasping his hands together. The diamonds in his ears winked as he tilted his head to look down at her shoes, as if looking to verify that displaced information.
“I’m very…sorry.”
Then he laughed, a sound that had Felicia’s heart leaping into her throat. Such a, uh, interesting sound. His laughter was a mixture of snorts and childish chuckles that was neither appealing, nor lacking. It just sort of beaned her in the middle of the forehead, rendering her apparently lacking in her own thinking process again. Bishies were supposed to have musically perfect laughter, not something you’d expect from a hyperactive girl.
“Then you are walking about with one sock?”
“It’s quite all right---You have a tongue stud?!” she gasped, having glimpsed the flash of metal in his mouth.
“Oh…um, yes. I got it when I turned sixteen.” With a sort of nervous expression, he stuck his tongue out. But instead of a traditional tongue stud, it was a multi-color vitamin that rested on the pink muscle. She was a little surprised. Here, she thought he was much too…what’s the word…innocent for that sort of thing.
“That’s weird.”
“I have others, too…I have one that’s in the shape of, uh, food. And one in shape of gum. And another in shape of…uh, well, an Ecstasy pill, and another that’s just a plain stud…But, anyway, about yesterday, when you asked me…uh, that question concerning…um, those two boys,” he began, wiping a wave of light brown bangs from his forehead.
His eyebrows were also damn perfect. Not that he tweezed them, but that they were just centered where they were supposed to be, and groomed, where guys’ were commonly lacking in that sense. Her eyes were searching for flaws, and she was growing disappointed at finding none.
There should have been some pimples here and there, some stray eyelash. Or perhaps a unibrow, or unruly eyebrows that made her itch to trim and tweeze them. Or faintly chapped lips. Or a childish growth of ‘stubble’. Something that made this boy human!
She even ventured close to sniff him. Nope. No lingering traces of body odor. Just fresh clean naturalness. She ignored the fact that he was looking at her as if she were the most oddest thing he’d ever seen. He was taller than her, so she had to look up at him. But it wasn’t as if she were craning her head back, straining her neck in an awkward position.
Then she realized she was comparing him to Quatre, and had to reel herself back. This Max and Quatre were two different people. One wasn’t going to find the same qualities in both.
“Did you just smell me?” he asked, blinking.
“Yeah. Animals identify one another through scent.”
So…does that mean you’re going to sniff my ass?”
She snorted, then laughed. “NO!!!”
“That’s what animals do! Let me smell you.” He leaned over, and sniffed. She grew self conscious all of a sudden, mind frantically racing through a list of things that made her hope for a good marking. She’d taken a shower…used her favorite apple-scented lotion and applied clothing before it dried, so that the scent rubbed off on her clothes. She’d also spritzed on her favorite perfume, something by Clinique called ‘Simply’.
Her eyes widened, and her face heated to something uncomfortably warm when his cheek brushed against hers. Blinking in glazed wonder, she realized she hadn’t felt this way about a guy since Hautta…which made her wonder who that was and why the name was so familiar…this Max guy made her all silly.
He drew back with a slight curve of his lips. “You smell good. Like a girl.”
She gave him an insulted expression. “Et tu, newbie?”
“What, you didn’t like me saying that?”
“For your information, asshole, I am a girl! Despite my natural tendencies to run about like a man!”
“Are you a lesbian?”
“I’M MISUNDERSTOOD!” she growled.
“Oh. I see. Well…I’m running off subject here,” he then said, stepping back from her. “About yesterday…”
“I’m trying to find out what you prefer,” she interrupted, frowning at him. “My friend is single, and I’m trying to set him up.”
“ ‘Him’?”
“Are you, or aren’t you?”
“I…I…can’t answer that question.”
“Why not? It’s a simple yes or no answer. God, do I have to give the speech to you, too?! Look, everything and anything in this school goes. New Park accepts everything and anything BUT minorities! So, me, as a minority, does not get accepted very well. But you, as either bi or homo or straight, will be accepted no matter what you do or prefer. There’s always someone here in this fuckin’ school that fits one’s taste---”
“So, which do you prefer?”
“GARGH. Males. I prefer males. Lesbians make me iffy…”
“What’s your type?”
“Uh…someone that can put me in my place, I suppose.”
“Why? Why can’t they just work with you? As an equal?”
She snorted, shaking her head. Then laughed. “Are you fuckin’ serious?! Dude, you truly don’t know me. Ask around about me. Then come to me about that shit! Hey, I’m late for class. I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. My teacher’s gonna spank me silly…”
“I don’t know your name!” he called after her.
“Oh, it’s Felicia. That’s all that you’ll need to know!”
“Felicia,” he repeated, drawing his thoughtfully around the name.
He watched as she hurried off, running not like a girl (arms swinging here and there, hips swishing), but like an athlete. Someone with a powerful stride and an inclination to sprint at the drop of a hat.
Then, with a contented smile, Max walked on to class, saying her name over and over again, liking the way it flowed from his lips.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Quatre had just set his bag on the table, fishing his wallet for some change when Trowa walked over, slugging his arm.
“OW!”
“Bastard,” Trowa said companionably. He looked into his open bag. “This is, for once, without a basketball…Are those actual school books?”
“And is this actually my fist slamming across your face?”
Trowa chuckled as Quatre stared at the vending machine, looking for something fun to eat. Trowa looked back into the open bag, and noticed an envelope crammed between his notebook and a paperback text on Wounded Knee. When he stepped at an angle, he could see that Quatre’s name was scrawled on the envelope with a male scrawl. He looked back at Quatre, who was suddenly occupied with shaking and pounding on the vending machine. Smoothly, Trowa retrieved the envelope and pocketed it.
“So, you and Sylvia, huh?” Quatre asked, glancing back at him. The pack of Rolos were caught in the wire, hanging so damn close over the edge. He pounded on the machine once more.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Trowa muttered, examining his painted fingernails once more. “But…yes…we’re seeing each other…”
“Of course,” Quatre murmured, moving to the side of the vending machine. He made the thing rock, causing a lot of sound in doing so. Several packets of various candies and chips lost their place in their respected places, falling into the bin.
“Are you jealous?” Trowa asked, leaning against the wall.
“NO! NO I’M NOT!”
“No need to sound as if you’re going back through puberty, Quat,” Trowa muttered with a wince, rubbing his ears. Then he grinned, leaning forward as Quatre retrieved all that had fallen into the bin. “Aw…you still have feelings for me!”
“Drop dead and die, you make-up wearing drug freak,” Quatre grumbled, holding his Rolos with a frown.
“Don’t worry---I may still have some feelings for you…”
Quatre looked at him sharply, blinking as he paused in dropping his ‘purchases’ in his open bag. He felt a vague sense of hope and nervousness as he stared at his ex, noting the unusual tie with the naked woman depicted on it.
“Really…?””Of course. Whenever I see a bruise upon my skin, I’ll fondly think of you. Whenever I see some girl beating on a guy, I’ll always put you in her place. And whenever I’m dumping, the smell will always make me think of the way you---”
“All right, all right!!” Quatre shouted, glaring at him.
“You’re always in my heart, Quat. Always…”
“Stupid prat licking son of a bitch makeup wearing drag queen dancing asshole,” Quatre muttered as he walked off, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Trowa grinned, then turned, withdrawing the envelope from his pocket. He stared at the handwriting in front, wondering who the hell it was that was trying to woo his ex. He noticed that it was particularly light…he opened it, carefully sliding his finger within the lip, and looked inside.
There was nothing there. Blinking, he turned the envelope over, waving it about. He was immediately covered with a light, gold powder that settled over his clothing and skin.
“Aw, shit!” he cursed, brushing at it, then froze. What the hell was this stuff?!
Cautiously, he lifted his arm, looking at the powder. Knowing it was entirely stupid, he licked a small part of it, and immediately recognized it as Gin-Gin.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, brushing at his clothes. He looked around wildly, then hurried up the stairway to his room. What the hell was Quatre doing with Gin Gin?! Was he a closeted druggie?! And if so, why the hell was he all over his ass about him doing drugs?! And why didn’t he share?!
The selfish bastard…
Trowa hurried into his room, thrusting the envelope aside. He brushed off his clothes, then changed out of them. Glaring at the envelope, he snarled at the thought of Quatre being a druggie. The drug, in powder form, was easily absorbed within the skin, leaving a user without any telltale marks or without the indication of smoking, the way it was commonly used. It was slower to affect a person that way, but its resulting actions were the same. He’d never take Quatre as a druggie---seeing the blond even trying a cigarette had been hilarious. But here, this thing was in his backpack…
Shaking his head, Trowa took the envelope, and walked out from the room. He walked over to the bathrooms down the hall, and stuffed it to the very bottom of the full canister. Then he hurried out, sure that he was going to be late for class. After school, he was going to rip the blond a new one for being a hypocrite…