Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1096745.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Cronus/Kankri, eridan/sollux, Rufioh/Horuss, tavros/gamzee, Rose/Kanaya,
      Meenah/Aranea, Kurloz/Meulin, Equius/Nepeta_(moirails), Dirk/Jake,
      Mituna/Latula, Cronus/Meenah, past_Cronus/Damara, past_Cronus/Porrim,
      past_Cronus/Aranea, probably_others_but_I'll_add_them_as_they_come_up,
      it's_primarily_CronKri_though, Feferi/Nepeta, Jade/Vriska, Rufioh/Cronus_
      (unrequited), Rufioh/Damara
  Character:
      Cronus_Ampora, Eridan_Ampora, Rufioh_Nitram, Tavros_Nitram, Gamzee
      Makara, Kurloz_Makara, Sollux_Captor, Mituna_Captor, Meenah_Peixes,
      Feferi_Peixes, Horuss_Zahhak, Equius_Zahhak, Vriska_Serket, Aranea
      Serket, Terezi_Pyrope, Latula_Pyrope, Porrim_Maryam, Kanaya_Maryam,
      Nepeta_Leijon, Meulin_Leijon, Kankri_Vantas, Karkat_Vantas, Aradia
      Megido, Damara_Megido, John_Egbert, Jane_Crocker, Dave_Strider, Dirk
      Strider, Roxy_Lalonde, Rose_Lalonde, Jade_Harley, Jake_English
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Drinking, the_story_is_set_in_late_1955/early_1956_and_the
      drinking_age_back_then_was_18, but_there_are_kids_under_that_age_who
      drink_as_well, There_will_be_Porn, And_also_angst, Drinking, Smoking,
      cursing, people_losing_their_virginity, it's_the_50s_so_people_are_as
      repressed_as_you'd_think_regarding_non-heterosexuality, so_expect_angst
      in_that_vein, mentions_of_abusive_parents, Bullying, gay_people_with
      beards, Unrequited_Love, also_requited_love
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-23 Updated: 2016-04-11 Chapters: 26/? Words: 68309
****** Just Go With It ******
by L_Greene
Summary
     The one where Cronus is a greaser, Kankri becomes the junior class
     president, and just about everyone is secretly gay or bisexual. E for
     various things including language and smut. (Tracking on Tumblr as
     "just go with it cronkri" if you're of that persuasion.)
***** Chapter 1 *****
Mornings were typically annoying for Cronus, but this morning was particularly
irritating. He supposed being a senior should have filled him with a sense of
triumph, but really, it was still the first day of school and he really didn't
want to go back, not just yet.
He briefly contemplated skipping the first day, but as he hopped into a pair of
jeans and rolled the cuffs to the top of his high-tops, he realized he
couldn't. He had to drive Eridan to school, after all, and there was no way
he'd get away with just dropping him at the front and zooming away. Hell, by
then, he might as well just stay there and suffer through the rest of the day.
It was only the first day, too, so the odds of getting any homework was slim.
He slid a white T-shirt over his head and scanned his mess of a room for his
jacket. The guy on the radio had said it would get into the low eighties today
before transitioning to "Cool Cat Cavalcade" by Jimmy Rocket and the Engines
(it had been burning up the airwaves all summer), so he wouldn't need the
jacket for comfort, just for aesthetics.
He finally found it draped over the back of his chair. He was quite proud of
it, actually—black leather with The Lost Boys stitched across the back in
silver with a symbol he'd designed two years ago outlined in gold. The symbol
was wispy-looking aside from two sharp points radiating at a downward angle
from the middle. He didn't have his name stitched onto the front like the girls
in Meenah's group (they called themselves the Fuchsia Ladies, something he
couldn't help but snicker at), but that was because everyone in the Lost Boys
could tell their jackets apart. Rufioh had a pair of orange wings on the back
of his and Kurloz had a crown on his and Gamzee had three juggling clubs. They
were all distinct.
He tossed his jacket onto his bed so he knew where to find it later and headed
to the bathroom. This was the most tiresome part of his morning—styling his
hair. He squirted a liberal amount of grease into his hair and began combing it
out. He was so absorbed he didn't even notice when Eridan burst in and started
brushing his teeth—although when he finished brushing and spat out his
toothpaste, Cronus noticed that.
"Jesus, chief, when did you get in here?"
"About five minutes ago. You better hurry—we gotta leave in like ten minutes."
"Lookin' this good takes time," he called at his younger brother's retreating
back.
"Then you should take a little more time!" Eridan shot back.
Cronus almost yelled at him to fuck off, but their parents were still hanging
around downstairs and he'd catch hell for cussing in the house. He let it go,
thinking Eridan was getting too quick for his own good.
He went back to his room, shrugged on his jacket, patted down his pockets for
his keys, wallet, and cigarettes, and called for Eridan, charging down the
stairs. "I'm gonna leave without you!" he shouted.
"No, you won't," his mother said, crossing her arms as she looked over at him
from the kitchen.
"Aw, jeez, Ma, I'm just tryin' to get him to move faster."
"Don't take that tone with your mother," his father said.
He wasn't going to win this one this way. "Sorry, Ma."
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his apology. "Have a good day at school,
you two. Have enough money for lunch?"
"I got enough," Eridan said. He'd appeared again without Cronus noticing.
He wasn't an idiot, though. "Actually, I need another fifteen cents. They
jacked up the price a' lunch again."
Eridan opened his mouth, but Cronus lightly elbowed the back of his head.
Eridan shut his mouth.
"Here." His father got up and handed him a dime and a nickel. "Have a good
day."
"Thanks, Dad." Cronus pocketed the extra change and headed out the front door
with Eridan in tow. Just before the door closed behind them, he heard his
father saying, "...don't know why he dresses like a delinquent..."
"Jesus," he muttered. They could only be talking about him—Eridan never
warranted that kind of ire from their father. Then again, Eridan dressed like a
nerd. Cronus was just grateful he didn't wear a sport coat and bow tie like
that Jake English kid. He'd never be able to live it down.
In a way, he was envious of Kurloz. Sure, Gamzee wasn't exactly the brightest
cat in the cage, but he was still cool—hence his presence in the Lost Boys.
Eridan wouldn't be a greaser in a million years. Cronus wished he had a cooler
younger brother. Not as cool as him, of course, but cooler than Eridan.
"We don't have to get any a' your loser friends, do we?" Eridan asked as Cronus
went to the driver's side.
"Yeah, we do, actually. We gotta get Rufioh an' his loser brother. Get in the
back."
"I'm not ridin' in the back like a first-grader!" Eridan protested.
"If you're gonna act like a first-grader, I'm gonna treat you like one. In the
back."
They were right outside of the house. Cronus didn't really have any way to
retaliate if Eridan decided to get in the front anyway, but the kid was
fifteen, so he didn't really realize it. He got into the back seat behind
Cronus and crossed his arms over his chest.
Eridan sulked the whole way over to Rufioh's place, which suited Cronus just
fine. He preferred it when his brother stayed quiet. After he honked the horn,
Rufioh and his brother Tavros both appeared and practically sprinted down the
Nitram family's front walk amid the chorus of the barking of their three
hundred or so bulldogs.
Cronus definitely did not envy Rufioh for anything except maybe his dark good
looks. His younger brother looked like a wimp, although part of Cronus didn't
blame him. Their old man was a serious drunk who had a tendency to smack around
both Rufioh and Tavros, and their old lady had died about six years ago, before
Cronus had met Rufioh. They were also dirt-poor, meaning Rufioh was just as
likely to come to school with his hair unstyled as slicked back. His hair today
was the latter, meaning it probably hadn't been too bad of a morning for them.
No matter how bad things got for Rufioh, though, Cronus seldom saw him without
a smile. He just knew he wouldn't be able to handle being in Rufioh's
shoes—he'd lose his marbles.
"Hey, man, how's it going?" Rufioh asked, hopping in the front seat while
Tavros slid into the back.
"Great, apart from a return to the bullshit a' school."
"Yeah, but we're seniors now. Probably won't be so bad."
Cronus let out a snort of laughter. "You really think that, man? I gotta say,
you're way more optimistic than me."
Rufioh shrugged, flipping up the collar of his jacket. It was different from
the other three in that his was brown leather instead of black. Aside from
that, he and Cronus were dressed identically down to their black high-tops. He
leaned back and threw his arms across the seat back. "I just got hope, man."
Cronus didn't know how he could be so damned optimistic all the time. Not
bothering to press the point further, he put his car in gear and headed toward
school.
"Sweet wheels, man," Rufioh added after a few moments.
Oh, yeah. He was so used to having the car already that he'd forgotten—Rufioh
hadn't actually seen it yet. He'd just gotten it in July and called Rufioh to
tell him that he had a car in the first place. Cronus had used surprisingly
little of his parents' significant money to buy it, a fact he was immensely
proud of. He'd worked all summer and the summer before just to get it, and now
that he had it, a Chrysler New Yorker two model years ago, he wanted nothing
more than to soup it up even more.
"Thanks, man. I can't wait to get her into the shop."
"Why? Gonna take her out drag racing?"
"Nah, I'm gonna beat people drag racin'," he said confidently. He heard Eridan
snort with laughter and said, "You tell Ma an' Dad an' I'll kick your ass."
Eridan held up his hands in a placating gesture.
Once at school, Cronus dropped Eridan and Tavros at the front before wheeling
around. The moment their brothers left the car, they each pulled out a
cigarette and lit up, and Cronus began cruising the back parking lot, hunting
for Kurloz's indigo Mainline. It had been their habit the last two years to
meet at his car on the first day of school, but this was the first time he'd
been able to show up in a car of his own. He'd just given it the paint job he
wanted, a deep sparkling purple that would have been a bit flamboyant on
anything other than a car, but as it was, it looked sweet, flat-out cherry.
He spotted Kurloz's car and gunned the engine, heading for the parking spot
right next to it. Kurloz and Gamzee were sitting on the hood of the Mainline
when Cronus pulled up, and Kurloz took one look and nearly lost his shit.
"Hey, motherfucker, you can't—" Then he caught sight of who was driving. "Oh,
shit, motherfucker, I didn't see you there! You weren't motherfucking
joking—killer wheels!"
"Jesus, Kurly, don't your old lady ever wash your mouth out with soap?" Cronus
joked, getting out.
"'Course she does," Rufioh said innocently. "But she stopped after he started
smoking it."
Fortunately, both Kurloz and Gamzee found his joke riotously funny and
dissolved into insane laughter. His comment had some basis in fact, anyway—the
running joke was that both of the Makaras would smoke anything if they could
hold a lighter to it long enough.
Kurloz and Gamzee wouldn't be mistaken for anything but brothers, too. They
both had the same dark, tangled mass of hair—Kurloz would at least attempt a
proper greaser style, but Gamzee's hair had been known to swallow combs with no
hope of returning them. They had the same hollow cheeks and dark eyes and
insane height—Kurloz was six-foot-four and Gamzee was six-foot-one, an inch
taller than Cronus—and gaunt frames, but that was because they were both
usually too high to realize they were hungry. Right now, though, Cronus just
smelled cigarettes on them. That didn't mean neither of them didn't have a
joint stashed for later, but at least for the moment, they were sober.
"Any sign a' the Fuchsia Ladies?" Cronus asked, scanning the parking lot. There
were the Captor twins heading inside—he recognized them from last year, so they
were sophomores now—and two other cats who were probably brothers, one in a
bright-red sweater and the other in a regular black shirt, but no sign of
Meenah Peixes's fuchsia Windsor Deluxe or, for that matter, anyone else in her
little gang.
"I saw one of the motherfucking Serkets heading inside," Gamzee volunteered. He
took a long drag on his cigarette. "Couldn't tell which one. Didn't see anyone
else, though."
Kurloz gave a dramatic shrug. "There it motherfucking is. One of the Serkets."
Fine and dandy, in Cronus's opinion. He wasn't interested in either of the
Serkets anyway—he'd gotten with Aranea last year and he didn't really feel like
chasing after her sister. Damara Megido, too, was old news, as was Porrim
Maryam, although she wasn't one of the Fuchsia Ladies. No, if he would be
scoring with any of the Fuchsia Ladies, it would either be Roxy Lalonde or
Meenah herself, and he would be holding out for Meenah if he had any say.
But there was all year for that. It didn't matter right now if they didn't see
the girls until lunch or something. He wasn't really in any hurry to get the
school year moving.
"So you gonna motherfucking race her?" Kurloz asked, tapping the hood of
Cronus's car.
"Yeah, once I soup up the engine. We'll have to take her to the shop—I didn't
wanna start fuckin' with the engine at home, y'know? Plus there's actually cats
who know what they're doin' in the school shop at least." Cronus sprawled back
onto the grass, staring up at the sky. It was a bright day already and he
wished he'd thought to get his sunglasses from the car, but it wasn't so bad
yet. Rufioh, Kurloz, and Gamzee continued chatting over him and he closed his
eyes, letting himself just enjoy being outside and back with his friends.
It had been a long summer. True, he'd spent most of it working, and part of him
missed not being at school already, but he also hadn't been able to see any of
the other Lost Boys. Rufioh, he supposed, he could have seen, but he hadn't
felt like braving that fucked-up family for very long, and he was pretty sure
Rufioh had also gotten a job anyway. The Makaras had been forced to accompany
their parents to northern Michigan for some unfathomable reason, though, and so
seeing them hadn't even been an option. But it didn't matter. The Lost Boys
were back together, a relief. He was finally back with people who actually gave
a shit about him instead of his parents, who were a real drag and never did
anything but drag him down, and his brother who was just a typical uncool
younger brother. It was over.
He heard a bottle being uncapped and felt himself grinning automatically.
"Want a beer, motherfucker?" Kurloz asked. Ever since he'd turned eighteen last
December, he'd been the supplier of alcohol, at least until Cronus had turned
eighteen two months later. Rufioh would be seventeen until April and Gamzee was
still sixteen, but two people buying booze for four had been relatively easy.
"Yeah, chief, hand it over," Cronus said, opening his eyes and sitting up.
Rufioh tossed a bottle over from some unseen compartment in the back seat of
Kurloz's Mainline. Cronus caught it easily and popped the top off with his
keys. As glad as he was to be back with friends, the actually being at school
part really sucked. He didn't know how he'd made it through three previous
first days at Lakeside High School sober, but he was glad he didn't have to do
it anymore.
The other three had already opened their bottles, so Cronus held it up. "To the
seniors a' the Class a' 1956, to the lone junior in our midst, an' to all the
chicks who don't know they're gonna bang us yet."
Gamzee nearly spilled his drink, he laughed so hard, and Rufioh mimed wiping a
tear from his eye. "Bangarang, brother. For a second there, I thought you were
gonna say something sentimental."
"Not a chance."
They knocked their bottles together to a chorus of laughter, and as the first
bell rang, warning them to get to homeroom, they tilted the bottles back and
chugged them. Cronus finished his in thirty seconds, tossed the empty bottle
behind him, and stood up. "Back out here for lunch?"
"You know it," Rufioh said. He rolled his bottle into the parking lot and stood
up as well. "Come on, guys. Let's get this over with."
***** Chapter 2 *****
He didn't have to be at school until eight, so when he woke up at six, he sat
in bed for a long time with his arms around his knees.
He missed home. This place where they lived now, it wasn't home—not really. He
missed his old friends and his old school and his old room. Everything here was
unfamiliar, even after he'd had two months to get used to it. Karkat didn't
have it as bad as he did, either—his younger brother was just starting high
school and would have had to start over at a new school anyway, but he was a
junior. All these kids had known each other for at least two years, and here he
was, a brand-new face in a sea of students who knew each other.
Finally, though, he rolled out of bed and picked out his clothes. He chose the
black pants he normally wore to church and a red dress shirt before deciding he
was in need of an extra bit of comfort today. He located his favorite red
sweater—it was late August, incredibly warm, but he wanted to wear the sweater
anyway—and pulled it over his head. His hair was a mess and he halfheartedly
attempted to comb it out, but it was useless. It would take more time than he
had to try to straighten it.
"Karkat," he called, pounding on his brother's bedroom door, "are you awake?"
There was music coming from within, some rock-and-roll-sounding music he
couldn't identify, leading him to believe that his brother was up, but it was
also possible that he was sleeping through his alarm. Either way, Karkat needed
to turn off the music in a hurry—their father considered any music not
explicitly spiritual to be "Devil's music." "Karkat! I don't intend to hasten
you beyond your comfort level, but if we're tardy for our first day of school—"
The door flew open, and Karkat's angry glare met him. He hissed, "Kankri. Shut
the fuck up."
"Father will hear—"
"He won't if you stop goddamn yelling," Karkat growled.
Kankri pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Your language is
offensive this early in the morning," he said testily.
"My language is always fucking offensive to you."
"Your behavior is reminiscent of a ten-year-old who just learned his first
curse words."
"Just... give me five fucking minutes to get dressed and I'll be right there,
okay? I don't need you hovering over my goddamn shoulder like a moth." Before
Kankri could answer, his brother closed the door. He didn't slam it, of
course—loud noises like doors slamming would annoy their father, and Kankri had
seen enough of Reverend Karter S. Vantas at full rage during his sermons to
know that any lectures toward his sons would be unpleasant.
Kankri sighed and went to the kitchen where his mother was just pulling a dish
of pancakes from the oven to keep them warm. "Good morning, Kankri," she said
pleasantly.
"Good morning, Mother."
"Go sit down and I'll bring you some breakfast. Is your brother awake?"
"Yes, Mother." He sat down, briefly contemplating telling her about Karkat's
new habit of cursing, but he decided against it. It would no doubt come back to
his father, and Reverend Vantas wasn't the most understanding of souls. As
offended as Kankri was by his brother's language, he disliked calling down his
father's wrath.
"Good. I don't want either of you late on your first day."
Kankri didn't answer. He stared at the plate in front of him, thinking back to
Louisiana and how he wished they were still there. Ohio wasn't bad, of
course—in terms of weather, the summer at least was comparable. But he missed
his old friends, as few and far between as they were, and he missed his old
school.
But going back wasn't an option. His father had already begun to lead a new
congregation, and it looked like Karkat would be graduating from Lakeside High
School in four years' time. Kankri wondered where he would be at that point. It
was his father's fondest hope that one or even both of his sons would follow
him into the ministry, but Kankri wasn't sure it was the right choice for him.
He believed, of course, and he would never renounce any of his father's
teachings, but he didn't feel called to do the same thing.
He almost laughed at the idea of Karkat becoming a reverend himself. There was
no way he would ever follow their father's example.
"Are you alright, dear?" his mother asked, patting his hair.
He blinked and realized she'd already served him. He'd been so lost in thought
that he hadn't noticed. "Of course, Mother. Forgive me. I was just...
thinking."
"I know it's been hard on you. It's very different up here. But if you keep
your faith, I'm certain you'll triumph over this obstacle," she added with a
reassuring smile. "You're a strong young man."
Kankri nodded. "Of course, Mother."
Karkat appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later, buttoning up a black shirt.
He, too, hadn't bothered to comb his hair, but whereas Kankri would have at
least attempted it had he been told, Karkat flat-out refused.
"Good morning, Karkat," their mother said as he sat down next to Kankri, at the
foot of the table.
"Morning, Mom."
She glanced worriedly at the clock on the wall. "You're not going to have much
time to eat, I'm afraid. Just eat what you can, alright, dear?"
Karkat shrugged in apathy and Mrs. Vantas put two pancakes on his plate.
"Where's Father?" Kankri asked suddenly, realizing his place at the head of the
table was empty.
"He had an emergency this morning."
He vaguely recalled the phone ringing before six, half-waking him. "Problem?"
"One of the older women in the congregation went to the hospital last night. He
went over for spiritual assistance."
That sounded like his father, all right. He felt guilty for the surge of relief
that his father wasn't there.
After a few more minutes of silent chewing, she looked up at the clock again.
"Just leave your plates there. I'll wash the dishes later." Their mother pulled
two brown bags out of the refrigerator as Kankri and Karkat stood up. "Here are
your lunches. Be careful on your way to school. You remember how to get there,
right?"
Their father had driven them the way to school every other day nearly all
summer. Of course they remembered how to get there. "Yes, Mother."
"Good. Have a blessed day."
Kankri kissed her goodbye. "You, too, Mother." Karkat followed suit, and the
two of them picked up their lunches and headed out the front door.
"At least Dad wasn't there," Karkat muttered as soon as they'd crossed the
street. "I don't need to hear his lecture on the evils of public high schools
again."
"It'll be different," Kankri said quietly. "I feel rather out-of-place without
a uniform. Don't you?"
"A little. But I'm also really looking forward to being able to wear whatever I
want to school."
Kankri scoffed. "Mother and Father won't let you wear 'whatever you want.' You
know that."
"Don't be such a killjoy."
The two of them continued bickering until they found themselves in front of
Lakeside High School. "There's a lot of cars in the parking lot," Kankri
observed. "How many teachers do they have here?"
"Uh, look. There's teenagers getting out of the cars. I'm pretty sure those are
students' cars."
"Students?" He looked closer, eyeing one dark-pink car that had four girls
piling out of it. "Oh. You're right."
"Obviously. Look, let's not go in the front door," Karkat added. "Side door.
That way, we won't get stared at."
"We're bound to be stared at anyway. I don't see what good using a different
door will do," Kankri argued, but he followed Kankri toward the rear entrance,
weaving through the small mob of students. He glanced to his left and locked
eyes momentarily with a boy with his dark hair slicked back and wearing a white
T-shirt, a leather jacket, and blue jeans cuffed at the tops of his shoes. Oh,
no. Apparently there were greasers here, too. They'd caused him problems at his
old high school, and he'd hoped that maybe the greaser phenomenon was isolated
to the Louisiana area, but apparently it wasn't. He tried to look smaller,
suddenly acutely aware of his bright-red sweater, and prayed he avoided notice.
Fortunately, the greaser turned around to focus on three of his friends, all of
whom were wearing leather jackets as well. Before Kankri could look away, he
registered the embroidery on the back of the jacket. The Lost Boys. Well. That
certainly seemed like a fitting name. Lost boys indeed.
Karkat slipped inside a few seconds before him, but no one else followed them.
The hallways seemed fairly empty, considering the number of students milling
around outside. "We need to find the main office," Kankri said. "Father said
they had our schedules there."
"Why couldn't they have just fucking mailed the damn things?" Karkat grumbled.
"Stop it, Karkat. Excuse me," he added, flagging down a boy in a yellow shirt.
"Where's the main office?"
The boy looked him over and grinned. His teeth looked unusually sharp, but
maybe that was because they were wired with braces. "Aww, poor freshmen. It's
that way," he said with a slight lisp and a finger pointed straight ahead of
them.
"I'm not a freshman," Kankri corrected him. He'd already dealt with one year as
a freshman—he wouldn't be mistaken for one again, even if he did happen to
still look like one. Although he was still fairly short, his father was five-
foot-ten, and he hoped he still had some growing left in him.
"You're not? I've never seen you here before."
"My family moved here from Louisiana this summer. I'm a junior, actually, but
my brother—"
"Oh, shit, you're the preacher's kids!" Something about that seemed to amuse
the other boy, and he covered his mouth to hide his grin. "Welcome to Lakeside!
See you around!" Without another word, he hurried away.
"What... what was that?"
"Fucking idiot," Karkat muttered. "I do not want to be known as 'the preacher's
son' everywhere I fucking go from now on."
"I admit, it eliminates a fair bit of anonymity I was hoping to have, at least
for the first few days. Everyone will expect us to behave perfectly."
"Which I'm sure will be no fucking problem for you. Me, on the other hand..."
Kankri closed his eyes and shook his head as the bell rang. "Let's hurry and
find the office. We don't have much time to waste anymore."
But the first bell had opened the floodgates, and students poured into the
building. They fought the current of bodies pushing them away from the office
until, just seconds before the second bell rang, they arrived, looking
decidedly worse for the wear.
"Can I help you?" said a stern-looking man behind the front desk. The name
plate in front of him read A. Renendez, so Kankri squared his shoulders.
"Yes, Mr. Renendez. My name is Kankri Vantas, and this is my brother Karkat.
We're—well, I'm a transfer student; it's Karkat's first high school. We were
just—"
"Oh, Reverend Karter's kids. We've been expecting you, actually."
Next to him, Karkat began grumbling under his breath about being "the fucking
preacher's kids" yet again. Kankri could kind of understand his frustration,
but he didn't understand what was so inherently wrong with being a child of a
preacher. If anything, they were more fortunate than their peers.
"Here are your schedules. Your homeroom is Room 413 with Ms. Mendicant,"
Renendez said, looking at Kankri, "and Karkat, you're in 826 with Mr. Valence.
Just follow the numbers—you'll find your way."
And with that, they were pushed back out into the crush of students, and Kankri
had to grab his brother's collar to keep him from being yanked away by the
current. "The 600 classrooms are right here," he murmured, glancing down the
nearest corridor. They had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right the first
time, assuming the hallways were numbered logically.
Or he could try to flag down another student and hope he got more help.
That didn't seem likely to happen, though. The longer he hovered, the more
hurried-looking the others seemed to be. A few moments later, the second bell
rang, and Kankri went into panic mode. Neither he nor Karkat were where they
needed to be and the hallways were emptying of people and doors were slamming
shut and a chorus of footfalls were heading toward them from behind,
accompanied by excited whooping and Kankri spun around just in time to see the
greasers from earlier—all four of them—charging down the hallway. His heart
pounded and he pressed himself against the wall to get out of their way, unable
to suppress the tremor of fear that ran through him. All of them were bigger
than him, and the one with the brown jacket actually had the tips of his hair
colored red, and how was that allowed here? And the other two with the wide
leers—something about them seemed a little off, but Kankri didn't have the
mental capacity to try to figure it out right now, not with the greasers
bearing down.
And then all of a sudden, with the first one, the one with the black jacket
with the intricate design on the back, grinning at him and turning away, they
vanished, leaving the bitter stench of beer behind them. Three of them—the
first greaser, the one with red in his hair, and the taller of the crazy-
looking ones—darted off to the right, and the other one went left. Two doors
slammed from the hallway to the right, and then another to the left, and Kankri
was left standing there in the deserted hallway, praying none of them were
juniors, or at least in his homeroom.
"Okay, Karkat, we should find our classrooms now." He waited a beat and looked
around. "Karkat?"
But the hallway really was empty. Karkat had vanished, too. "Okay," he
murmured. "Okay. He probably found his classroom already." But where had he
even gone?
It didn't matter. He'd find his brother later. He needed to find his homeroom
now. He glanced nervously toward the hallway the trio of greasers had
disappeared down and turned left, away from it. He would continue hoping until
it was foolish to continue doing so anymore.
When the next hallway he passed started with classroom 510, he breathed a sigh
of relief. He was going in the right direction after all. His pace quickened
and he arrived in the 400 wing and began scanning for 413. Five seconds later,
he slipped through the door as quietly as he could and saw the only seat
open—right in the middle, behind a girl with a violently-pink jacket reading
The Fuchsia Ladies across the back.
Good enough. He sat down and crossed his arms over his chest, allowing his
heart rate to drop.
Not a greaser in sight.
***** Chapter 3 *****
"Hey!"
Dave jolted awake, fumbling automatically for his sunglasses and sliding them
on his face. Outside his room, his brother pounded on the door, the cause of
his abrupt return to consciousness. He mumbled something that was supposed to
be, "What's going on?" but came out as more of a, "Huh?"
"Let's go!" Dirk called through the door again. "You got five minutes, bro! We
gotta go get Harley!"
"Shit," Dave muttered. He threw the covers off his bed and stumbled toward his
closet, grabbing the first shirt he could find and jumping into a pair of
jeans. He straightened his sunglasses and shrugged into his leather jacket,
hunting for his shoes. Once he'd tied the red high-tops, he dashed out of his
room, ducking under Dirk's swinging fist heading right for his nose, and
skidded into the kitchen.
"Catch!" Dack, his oldest brother, called, tossing a piece of toast into the
air and half-batting, half-slicing it toward him with one of his hundreds of
katanas. Their tiny house was a deathtrap with all the sharp implements they
had laying around, but Dave was used to navigating it by now.
He caught the now-separate pieces of toast and stuck them in his mouth. Dack
grinned and set the katana up on the counter, pushing his own glasses farther
up the bridge of his nose. "Nice one. You guys taking off soon?"
"Now, actually." Dirk's voice came out of nowhere, but Dave didn't jump. If he
gave any indication that he was anything but on his guard at all times, Dack
and Dirk wouldn't let up on him. "Keys."
"Catch." Dack pulled the keys to his Monterey out of nowhere, picked up his
katana, tossed the keys up in the air, and batted them toward Dirk with the
flat of the blade. Dirk caught them, elbowed the back of Dave's head, and said,
"Let's get Harley."
Dack called after them, "If you put so much as a scratch on that car, I'll pull
your teeth out through your ass!"
"Eat me!" Dirk yelled back, slamming the front door behind Dave. "Hope you got
everything you need, little man," he added, popping up the collar on his own
leather jacket, "'cause we're not going back in there until after school."
"Come on, bro, we can't skip a few classes?"
"Not this year, bro." Just to spite Dack, Dave was sure, Dirk slid across the
hood of the Monterey, the chain on his wallet scraping harmlessly against the
metal. "Gotta graduate. Senior, baby."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dave dropped into the passenger's seat and crossed his
arms, suppressing a sigh. Dirk was a senior this year and Dack had graduated
just over five years ago, but Dave was only a sophomore. He could appreciate
Dirk's motivation to graduate from Lakeside High School and not come back, but
that just meant that if (and when) he cut classes, it would be with Harley.
Which wasn't bad, truth be told, but Dack wouldn't let him drive the car
without either him or Dirk there as well, and Dirk wouldn't give him the keys
during the day, so he'd probably be stuck under the bleachers. That wasn't
exactly how he wanted to spend his school days, but he reminded himself it was
only for a year. Next year, he'd drive himself and Harley to school and he
would have control of the car during the day.
They pulled up in front of Harley's house ten minutes later. Fortunately, she'd
seen them coming and ran out the front door with her book bag bouncing on her
shoulder and her long hair streaming behind her. Her full name was actually
Jade Harley, but they called her by her last name since it sounded better. She
was a generally cool chick, despite her buck teeth and round glasses. She'd
been hanging out with Dave for as long as he could remember and, surprisingly,
was one of the few people—besides his brothers—that he could tolerate for more
than ten minutes. He scooted his seat forward and popped open the door to let
her slide into the backseat. "Morning, Striders!"
"Hey, Harley. Your old man threaten to shoot us again?" Dirk asked, pulling
away from the curb.
He wasn't joking about the "old man" part. Harley lived with her grandfather,
not her parents. Dave didn't know the details, which was a bit of a surprise
considering how long they'd known each other, but to his recollection, she'd
never lived with her parents. Her grandfather had always been her guardian.
"Well, he had his rifle, but he didn't actually say he'd shoot you today. I
think he's getting used to you."
"It's not like it's been ten years or anything," Dave muttered.
"Closer to thirteen, silly," Harley said, swatting at his shoulder.
"Oh, three years, big deal."
Dirk smirked and rolled down his window. "Feel like driving past some
upperclass fucks?"
"I thought you wanted to get to school," Dave pointed out.
Dirk checked his watch. "Eh. We got time."
"We have ten minutes to make it to school before the first bell," Jade said,
waving her own watch as proof.
"Alright, fine. After school, though."
"That'll give us time to collect rocks," Dave joked.
"Good point." Dirk gunned the engine and they sped up.
Dave leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He heard movement in the
backseat but didn't think anything of it until someone snatched his sunglasses
off his face—or tried to, anyway. Automatically, his hand shot up and his
fingers wrapped around a wrist. Harley's wrist. There was no way that bony arm
belonged to Dirk. "Don't touch the shades," Dave said, but his voice lacked
conviction. If it was anyone but Harley or one of his brothers, he would have
at least attempted to break their arm, but he knew her. She was harmlessly
fucking with him, and their thirteen years of friendship had entitled her to
that.
As Dirk pulled into a parking space at school (in the middle of fucking
nowhere, since all the good spots had been taken already), Dave ratcheted his
seat fully up so Harley would be able to get out. He opened his door and a bell
rang, echoing through the nearly-deserted parking lot and school lawns.
"We're late," Harley announced, hopping to the ground. "That was the second
bell."
Dirk rubbed the bridge of his nose under his own sunglasses. Despite his
frankly-terrifying driving habits, they still hadn't made it on time. "It's the
first day," he muttered. "No one's gonna notice a few punks walking in late."
Harley slung her bag over her shoulder as they walked toward the building and
gently tugged her hair out from where it was pinned between the bag's strap and
the leather of her jacket. "Too bad we won't have the same homeroom," she said
to Dave.
"Yeah." It would have been nice to have a friend with him, but last year had
driven home the futility of that hope. He headed off in the direction of his
homeroom and went inside, not bothering for subtlety. He was already late.
There was no point in trying to sneak in.
===============================================================================
"Nice to see you've joined us. Mr. Strider, I presume?" the teacher said, a
stern-looking woman with an hourglass figure and a black dress. Everyone at
school called her Snowman because she was cold and it was easier to say than
Snowwoman. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized he couldn't remember
her real name.
"That's me," Dave confirmed.
"Only three minutes late."
"I know—not bad, right?" He slid into the first open seat he could find, next
to a girl whose name he vaguely recalled started with an F.
"I hope you're not planning to make it a habit, Mr. Strider." Snowman's voice
could have frozen over hell. It went beyond a mere chill—she sounded dangerous,
angry. Dave knew better than most that a cold rage was far worse than a hot
one. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to push a teacher's buttons, but it was
only the first day of school, and he was still a little lethargic from being
woken up sooner than he would have liked; he wasn't in full form for a good
old-fashioned debate with this broad. Besides, he also didn't feel like being
the first person to get sent to detention this year.
So Dave leaned back in his seat. "Don't worry about me, teach. I'll be a
perfect angel."
A chorus of snickers erupted, including from the girl next to him, who hid her
face behind her hair. He couldn't hold back a self-satisfied smirk.
"Mr. Strider, if you say one more word in this classroom today, I will give you
detention. Is that understood?"
He didn't want to test her limits today. Maybe tomorrow. He nodded.
"And take off the damn sunglasses."
Dave cocked his head to the side. You sure about that, teach? All of the
teachers last year had been a little unnerved by his stare and allowed him to
keep his sunglasses on. Dirk and Dack had the same freaky eye thing, too—it was
a family trait, just like their sunglasses. On top of that, he was sitting
right in front at the moment.
"Take them off," Snowman repeated.
Dave raised his hand to the wire frames, keeping his eyes fixed dramatically on
Snowman as he took the sunglasses off. He set them carefully on his desk and
continued to stare unblinkingly at her, privately enjoying the way her eyes
widened slightly as she finally saw.
His pupils, he was sure, were constricted, being unused to natural light due to
the sunglasses. His irises would be nice and noticeable, all blood red and
creepy. In his peripherals, he saw a few of his classmates leaning in to get a
look at what had made Snowman go slightly pale, but he kept his eyes locked on
her.
A muscle in her jaw twitched. She swallowed, the motion almost imperceptible.
"Put your sunglasses back on, Strider," she hissed.
That's what I thought. Dave slid his sunglasses back on and closed his eyes for
a few moments. As soon as humanly possible, he was dragging either Dirk or
Harley out of their classes and shooting the shit under the bleachers because
he could not spend the whole year this way.
Fortunately, homeroom was only twenty minutes long. The bell rang and the
sophomores filtered out and to their new lockers. Dave already spun his lock
around his finger as he popped open number 1206. It had a few tiny scraps of
paper from last year when whatever student had owned this locker previously
hadn't quite cleaned it out fully, but that didn't bother him. He didn't have
anything to put in here right now anyway. At the end of the day, it would be
filled with books, but right now, it was empty.
He briefly considered climbing in, but he'd barely fit last year and his
shoulders were broader now. There was no way he'd fit this time.
Two greasers—the Lost Boys, they called themselves—charged down the hall,
completely ignoring him. They tended to harass a lot of people, of course.
Cronus, who seemed to be the leader (although the three oldest ones seemed like
they didn't really take orders from either of the others; it was only the
youngest one, the junior, the younger brother of one of the others, who just
kind of followed along), particularly liked to taunt one of the other
sophomores. One of the Captor twins. Dave could never quite figure out which
one was which, but he knew that Cronus only bullied one of them, not the other,
which struck Dave as a little odd because both of the twins had the same speech
problem and fucked-up teeth. The twins were identical in every way except their
hair.
But Dave and Dirk had never called down greaser ire. The Lost Boys left them
alone for whatever reason. The Striders weren't greasers themselves, although
they had a lot in common with them (not the greasers here of course, because
all but the one with red in his hair were actually rich, upperclass fuckwads
who didn't have to worry about their damn cars breaking down every other week).
The Striders could take care of themselves, just like the greasers, and they
stuck together. The only thing he could think of that separated them from
greasers was their hair. Dave and his brothers did not worry in the slightest
about slicking their hair back or forward or any which way.
Harley was a pretty big difference, too. Greasers typically only hung out with
girls they planned to fuck or were already fucking. Harley wasn't one of the
girls who had a few other girlfriends and started their own rival clique of
whatever the female version of a greaser was. Harley was actually one of them.
Her grandpa was pretty rich, one of the reasons he was able to afford that two-
story house and all those guns, but he'd taught Harley how to shoot at a young
age and she was a crack shot by now. Besides, she didn't let her money control
her, unlike that Cronus Ampora asshole and his friends and their pretentious
embroidered jackets.
Dave involuntarily slammed his locker shut. He needed to just ignore them. At
the end of the year, three would be gone, and only the junior would be left.
That one barely had a functioning brain cell in his head, so he didn't have
much to worry about.
He stalked off toward his first class, which he already knew he didn't have
with Harley. They only shared lunch and sixth-hour PE, which was still better
than what he shared with Dirk, which was nothing. Dirk had fifth-hour lunch,
the unfortunate fuck, which meant he'd be starving by lunch time.
He went right for the back of the classroom in first-hour math. The last thing
he wanted was to be front and center again, not after homeroom. This teacher
probably wouldn't make him take off his glasses, though. He'd already had a
class with her last year and she knew about his eyes. For once, he was grateful
to have a teacher he knew already.
The bell rang and he found himself staring at the back of the head of the boy
in front of him. There wasn't anything particularly fascinating about the back
of this head—the boy's hair was dark brown and a little longer than normal,
with wisps that wrapped around and behind his ears and a tuft near the top that
wouldn't lie flat, as if there was a breeze going through it. Dave tilted his
head to the side, wondering if the boy had a cowlick or if he just hadn't
combed his hair before coming to school.
The teacher spoke calmly about classroom rules as if they weren't the same in
every classroom while she dropped stacks of books on the first desk of every
row. One by one, they were passed back until the boy in front of Dave had two
books. The boy twisted in his seat, dropped the last book on Dave's desk, and
grinned at him.
"Hey, man. Nice shades. Think she's gonna make you take them off?"
Dave shook his head numbly, grateful again for the sunglasses. Now, at least,
the widening of his eyes wouldn't be noticed. He wasn't quite sure why it
seemed like the other boy had blue eyes so pale they could see right through
him, especially magnified in those glasses he wore, but that thought made him
squirm.
He pushed his sunglasses firmly up the bridge of his nose and sat back.
***** Chapter 4 *****
The only time Dirk ever took off his sunglasses when he wasn't at home was when
he was in the bathroom at school and he was positive no one else was around.
His eyes tended to freak people out a bit, except for Dave and Dack, of course.
They didn't have much room to talk in that department—Dave's eyes were red and
Dack's were yellow. Dirk's eyes could have almost passed for a light brown
until you looked closely and saw they were quite obviously orange.
He avoided his own gaze even though he was wearing his sunglasses and waited
casually for the bathroom to empty out. He was sure it would soon—there was
only about twenty-five seconds until the second bell. He wouldn't be leaving,
though. Not right away. He was waiting for someone.
The second bell rang and Dirk stayed put until everyone else had left. He began
counting down to himself from sixty, telling himself that if that door didn't
open by the time he reached zero, he would just leave. He couldn't wait around
all morning.
He kept his eyes locked on the door. When he'd gotten to seventeen, the door
swung open and a junior in a bow tie with a bag over his shoulder strolled in.
Dirk felt himself smiling automatically. The junior smoothed back his messy
hair and flashed a shy, tentative smile back at him, biting on his lip for a
moment. "Hey, Dirk."
"Hey, Jake. I... I wasn't sure you were going to be here." As he spoke, Jake
set his book bag down and closed the bathroom door.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, closing the gap between them until he was only a
few feet away.
Dirk's heart rate picked up slightly, but he managed to keep his voice level.
"Just... it's been a long summer. I thought maybe you'd... I don't know, get
tired of me or something."
Jake's smile widened a little and he put his hand up to cup Dirk's cheek. "No
way. I really missed you."
"Good. I missed you, too."
Jake stood on his tiptoes to press his lips gently to Dirk's, and the senior
felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach start turning pleasantly and his
face getting warm, and he wound his arms around Jake's waist. He'd missed this,
being close to Jake and seeing him every day. It was actually the main reason
he'd been secretly looking forward to school starting back up—although he'd
also been terrified because, for a nerd, Jake was really attractive and he
could have easily found someone else over the summer or just decided he didn't
want anything to do with Dirk anymore.
That prospect scared him more than anything. Jake could just walk away, but
Dirk couldn't—not if he wanted to remain intact. He couldn't explain it, but he
just knew nothing would be the same if Jake left. It would hurt too much.
And he knew, if anything, it would be Jake who would end it, not him.
A burst of laughter echoed in the hallway outside the bathroom and they broke
apart, Jake's violently green eyes widening. "Are we alone in here?" he
whispered.
Dirk nodded silently and tugged him into the closest stall and locked it. Chest
to chest, they waited, neither of them daring to breathe until a full ten
seconds passed without anyone bursting in on them. "I think we're in the
clear," Dirk murmured.
Jake nodded, reached up, and gently slid the senior's sunglasses off. Dirk
closed his eyes until Jake had folded up the glasses and hung them from Dirk's
shirt. Only then did he open his eyes, still self-conscious of them around Jake
after all this time.
Eight months. It had been eight months since all this started. It had been an
accident, a total accident, but it had still somehow led to this, clandestine
moments stolen in bathrooms between classes, feigned study sessions (Jake being
an ultra-nerd had its benefits; they'd had two classes together last year and
had excuses to study together) at Jake's house while his deaf grandmother
remained oblivious downstairs (and that was fortunate because no matter how
much he tried to keep his voice down, Dirk was loud) and there was no way in
hell they'd get any amount of privacy at the Strider house. Not with Dack and
Dave strifing everywhere.
In eight months, it wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it was all they had.
But Jake just smiled up at him and kissed him again, just as lightly and just
as sweetly as before. He was used to Dirk's eyes. He would tell him that they
were unique, they made him stand out.
Dirk closed his eyes, winding his arms back around Jake and letting him melt
into the kiss. He'd missed Jake so much—the summer hadn't allowed a single
moment for them to see each other, not with Jake and his grandmother in South
America from the middle of June to just two weeks ago. He'd been craving this
for two and a half months now.
A dull thud sounded and Jake let out an, "Oof," somehow registering in his
head, and he realized that he'd pushed Jake against the wall of the bathroom
stall. The junior wasn't complaining, though—Dirk felt his smile widen against
his lips as he brought a hand up to ruffle through Dirk's short blond hair.
They'd just settled into a comfortable rhythm when the bathroom door banged
open.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit—! They froze, breaking the kiss, and Jake put
his index finger to his lips and pointed away from the stall door, toward the
wall with the toilet.
Dirk nodded once and they moved silently. He climbed on top of the toilet and
perched on the tank, allowing Jake to actually sit on the seat. He'd just sat
down when there came the sound of something scraping across the floor and
whoever had just walked in called, "Uh, is this someone's bag?"
Jake's face contorted in aggravation and he smacked his forehead. "Y-yeah,
that's mine. Can you just leave it there? I'm... a little busy right now."
"Yeah, sure." There was an awkward silence for a moment until the mystery
student—Dirk didn't recognize his voice—shuffled over to a urinal, unzipped his
pants, and started peeing. Dirk closed his eyes and leaned back, automatically
running his fingers through Jake's dark hair. The shorter boy let out a soft
sigh and leaned into Dirk, his head resting on Dirk's stomach.
It seemed to take hours for the other student to finish and wash his hands and
leave, but once the door banged shut behind him, Jake leaped up and darted out
of the cubicle. He brought his bag back, closed the stall door, and went right
back to Dirk, who'd finally hopped off the tank.
"That was a close—" he started, but Jake cut him off with another kiss.
Dirk couldn't help smiling. More than anything, that had reassured him that
Jake really had missed him.
===============================================================================
"I need to be way more drunk for this," Rufioh muttered under their science
teacher's talking, his head resting in the palm of his right hand with his arm
on the lab table.
"Fuckin' agreed," Cronus answered.
"Are you going to deal or are you just going to shuffle all class long?" Damara
said, surreptitiously elbowing Meenah in the ribs.
Meenah rolled her eyes, set the deck of cards down on the lab table, and
shrugged out of her jacket. She could tell that Cronus and Rufioh were
delighted to have a couple of the Fuchsia Ladies in their science class, and
she was pleased that she had three classmates who weren't total assholes (only
partly, in Cronus's case—at least Rufioh seemed genuinely nice most of the
time). Damara was pretty thrilled, too, since she had a huge crush on Rufioh
and talked about him nearly nonstop. Out of necessity, the four of them had
teamed up, and altogether, it wasn't a bad arrangement.
For all the flaws in his personality, Meenah had to admit that Cronus was
pretty smart, and his smile bordered on knee-melting when it wasn't forced. He
was also a decent enough poker player to give her a run for her considerable
money, and she liked a challenge. "Way more drunk?" she asked Rufioh. "Implyin'
that you're already drunk?"
Rufioh flashed her that lazy grin that had Damara swooning. "Little bit, doll.
One of the benefits of friends who're eighteen already."
If she didn't know Rufioh better—and she knew him fairly well, considering
they'd been classmates for four years and hung out with the same type of
people—she would be certain he was flirting with her. But she did know him, and
she knew that he actually didn't realize he was hot and just about everything
he said could be construed as flirting. And he was hot. It was actually kind of
infuriating, although she wasn't about to tell him that. She also wasn't about
to flirt with him, either—he wasn't her type, and he was dirt-poor to boot.
Cronus sniggered behind his hand.
"Yeah, whale, wait 'til the buzz wears off an' you're down here with the rest
of us," Meenah said.
"Then we go out to Kurloz's car an' repeat the process," Cronus said lazily.
"Rufi, you see how much more he had?"
Rufioh half-shrugged. "Enough to make it through the day. Well, unless Gamzee
decides to get hammered. He could probably drink all that."
"He better not. Kid's sixteen—s'not so bad if one a' us gets caught drunk, but
him? We're gonna all get in trouble," Cronus pointed out.
"Like it'll be so much better for me? I'm only seventeen," Rufioh said.
Meenah rolled her eyes and began dealing. "Alright, gills and buoys, the name
of the game is poker, five-card draw. We'll play three hands to warm up an'
then we'll start bettin' cash. Everyone got the dough?"
"Yeah, I got like..." Cronus rubbed his eyes, thinking. "Four or five bucks?"
"I have sixty cents," Rufioh muttered. He dumped a small pile of change onto
the table. "Wait, no, forty-five cents. I need to buy lunch."
"I got your lunch, chief, don't worry about it," Cronus said, clapping him on
the shoulder.
"What about you, doll?" Rufioh asked Damara.
She blushed deeply at the nickname, but Meenah nearly groaned. He called every
girl he talked to "doll." She hoped Damara wasn't misconstruing what he was
saying.
"I have about fifty cents. I have to save my own lunch money."
"Whale, you all minnow I got cash on hand. So let's do this." Meenah gave the
cards one last, quick shuffle and set the deck in front of Damara. "Cut."
Damara cut the deck into three piles and stacked them back up again. Once she
was finished, Meenah took the deck and started dealing one card at a time,
Rufioh to Cronus to Damara and then to herself. She finished dealing and set
the cards on the lab table while everyone else checked their hands.
Rufioh scowled, picked out three cards from his hand, and grabbed three more
from the deck. Cronus's expression was unreadable as he replaced three of his
own cards. Damara only switched two, looking slightly smug.
Meenah scratched the back of her head. She had the queen of clubs, the eight of
hearts, the seven and six of diamonds, and the three of clubs. The six through
eight would give her a good chance of getting a straight, although she would
have preferred it if they were all of the same suit. Oh, whale. She
relinquished the queen and three of clubs and drew two more cards. Better. It
wasn't quite what she wanted—the eight of spades and seven of hearts—but two
pairs were better than nothing.
Apparently, it was better than what Cronus had, too, because he groaned quietly
and set his forehead on the table.
"Pair of tens," Rufioh said, showing off the tens of hearts and clubs.
"It wanted to be a straight. Damn it, it tried to be a straight. But I got
nothin'," Cronus said. "Fuckin' nothin'."
"Pair of jacks," Damara announced. She set her cards on the table—among the
jacks of diamonds and spades, there was also the queen of diamonds, the king of
spades, and the three of spades.
"Whale I just blew all you suckas out of the water. Two pair." Meenah set her
cards down and smirked.
"Good thing we're not playin' for money yet," Cronus said. "I get the feelin'
that today's just not my fuckin' day. You chicks are gonna clean me out."
Meenah smirked and gathered up all the cards to begin shuffling them again. "A
little sobriety goes a long way, angelfish."
At "angelfish," Cronus started smirking back. Meenah could already see where
this was going—she and Roxy were the only two in the Fuchsia Ladies that Cronus
hadn't gotten with, and she expected he would be going after one of them this
year. From the looks of it, he was angling for her—which she also expected
because Roxy, while being cool and actually the smartest person Meenah knew,
was a total lush and generally made really stupid choices. Meenah was by far
the superior choice.
She rolled around that prospect in her head, thinking about going with him, and
decided she wasn't going to reject the possibility outright. The odds of her
finding better prospects this year were slim, and besides, everyone knew the
Amporas were loaded. He was pretty attractive for an asshole, he was rich, and
from what Damara and Aranea had told her, he wasn't too bad in bed.
But there was the car thing. She did not want to be the one picking him up and
driving him around. That would be a deal-breaker. "Hey, doofish, when are you
plannin' on not bummin' rides from Makara anemonemore?"
Cronus raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "Who said I'm still bummin' a ride
from him, darlin'? I got a set a' wheels over the summer."
"Oh, reelly? What did you get?"
Cronus's smirk widened. "Oh, a New Yorker. Convertible. A '54, but still."
"Oh, shit, man, is it that New Yorker with the outraygeous purple paint job?"
He straightened up and smoothed his hair back. "Yeah, that's her. You saw her?"
"Yeah, next to Makara's piece of shit," she laughed, but inside, she was
relieved. Not bad. Now that that last little detail had been cleared up, she
was feeling better about the prospect of going with him.
"Can you quit it with the flirting and deal again?" Damara said lightly,
winding a few strands of her long, dark hair around her fingers. "I kind of
want to get back on kicking their asses."
Meenah would have given her hell for even insinuating she was flirting with the
likes of Cronus Ampora, except she was. She also felt like wringing as much
money as possible from him and watching him practically start to salivate from
being dominated.
Drunk Cronus was actually a lot of fun to be around, she reflected. She let him
cut the deck this time since he'd lost the last hand, and then she began
dealing again.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Kankri didn't like the idea of having a different lunch hour than Karkat, but
that was how most of the junior and senior class schedules were set up, with
lunch after the freshmen and sophomores. The only good thing about it was that
Porrim Maryam, whose father was good friends with Kankri's father, had decided
to take him under her proverbial wing and watch out for him, at least until he
found his niche. That meant that the moment he wandered into the cafeteria, she
was sprinting over to him with her own tray.
"Kankri! There you are! I've been looking for you all morning!"
He knew they probably wouldn't have any classes together since she was a
senior—except for debate, but she'd apparently taken that class the year
before—but it was still nice to know that someone had been keeping an eye out
for him. "I'm afraid I had some difficulties this morning. Karkat insisted on
taking a side entrance into the building and we couldn't find the office until
homeroom had already started and then there were these greasers who ran through
the hallways like wild animals and—"
"Greasers? You mean the Lost Boys?"
"I believe that was what was emblazoned on their jackets, yes."
Porrim let out a resigned sort of laugh. "They're a real trip. They're not as
bad as they look, trust me—just don't piss them off. Come on, let's go eat
outside. Being seen surrounded by cheerleaders will only help your social
standing, trust me."
"Tell me," Kankri said, following her out of a side door of the cafeteria. "Is
it... allowed for students to dye unnatural colors into their hair?"
"What, you mean like Rufioh? The guy with the red in his hair," she added at
his confused expression.
"Yes, like him."
"Well... technically, it's frowned upon, but there's nothing in the student
handbook expressly forbidding it. Honestly, I think the teachers have given up
trying to discipline the four of them—him and the other Lost Boys—but I
promise, they're really not that bad. Well, maybe Cronus is. He likes to bully
some of the underclassmen. The one, he's a sophomore now, Mituna Captor, seems
to be his favorite target, although..." She readjusted her tray in her hands so
she could toss a few strands of hair back from her face. They were striding
toward the football field, where Kankri could already see a knot of girls
sitting in the grass by the bleachers. "I can kind of understand why Mituna
gets it. He's kind of a spaz," she added with a giggle.
"I see. Which one is Cronus? I'll make it a point to avoid him if possible."
"He's... oh, over there, see him? The one in the black jacket with his hair
slicked back?"
Kankri followed her line of sight to the four guys lounging near the parking
lot, leather jackets on. They made quite a picture, and his stomach clenched in
fear. He saw immediately which one she was referring to, of course, but he
noted also that all of them had brown bottles in their hands, bottles that
looked distinctly like beer bottles. "Are... are they drinking?"
"Hmm? Oh, probably. Those two—Cronus and the bigger one with the really messy
hair, his name is Kurloz—they're eighteen, so they can technically drink as
long as the school doesn't catch them. I know for a fact that Rufioh doesn't
turn eighteen for a few more months and Gamzee, the other one, is a junior so
he's only like sixteen or something, so they shouldn't be, but..." She sighed.
"Like I said, the school's basically given up on them. If they get caught,
they'll get in a lot of trouble, but no one's gonna rat them out." She turned
around. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls."
Kankri sat down with his back to the parking lot, feeling incredibly out of his
element. He hadn't associated with cheerleaders at his old school since they
had flirted way too much and earned his father's ire, but the ones here weren't
so bad. They were actually pretty nice to him, which surprised him. It was
probably through Porrim's influence, though.
All in all, though, it was rather nice to sit there with the sun shining down
on him and just listen while the girls discussed their new teachers and their
classmates and the football team's chances to make it to the state championship
(not great, but better than last year) and how the baseball team was doing (one
player, a sophomore named Zahhak, was apparently a powerhouse batter as well as
an outstanding third baseman) and who had gotten a car over the summer and
plans for after the first pep rally of the year that Friday night. Kankri
wondered idly if his parents would object to him going to it—he had never been
exactly interested in sports teams at his old school, but it also hadn't been
very heavily emphasized at his old school. Here, it seemed like a bigger deal,
and if he were going to fit in, it would behoove him to attend. Besides that,
he was going to try to make more friends at this school. He would make the best
of a frankly infuriating situation.
The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and he got the impression that he
was being watched. He continued eating, trying to ignore it, and wrapped one
arm around himself. He didn't need the extra warmth—his sweater was more than
sufficient for that—but it lent a bit of comfort to him. He resisted the urge
to twist around to see if anyone was actually watching him. The only ones
behind him were the greasers, anyway, and he really didn't like the idea of
making eye contact with any of them, but that Cronus guy especially.
"So, Kankri, where are you from?" one of the cheerleaders asked, smiling at
him. He didn't remember her name or if Porrim had even introduced any of them
to him, but she had distinctly catlike features, and her skirt was an olive-
green color with a little cat's face embroidered onto it. Her hair was long,
light brown, and curly, cascading down her shoulders in waves. On a chain
around her neck was someone's class ring—she was someone's girlfriend. He
wondered idly who her boyfriend was.
"Louisiana. My family and I moved up here over the summer."
"You don't sound like you're from Louisiana."
"You mean my lack of an accent?"
"Yeah. I thought southern people all sounded like..."
"Dirk Strider?" Porrim said with a laugh.
"Who?"
Porrim smiled and shook her head, ruffling his hair. "It's okay, Kankri. You'll
figure it out eventually. Dirk is a senior. Blond hair, always wears
sunglasses. So does his brother Dave. They both have these crazy southern
accents, too."
"Oh. Well, actually, most people from Louisiana don't have southern accents,
unless they're from the bayou area—"
Porrim giggled again. "You had it there for just a second."
Kankri felt his cheeks flushing and contemplated hiding his face in his
sweater. "Anyway..."
"Oh, it's cute," the other cheerleader said with a comforting smile. "So why
did you move here?"
"My father... he was transferred," he said finally, deciding that the watered-
down explanation was the simplest.
"You miss Louisiana?"
"A little. Starting over at a new high school for my junior year isn't the most
ideal of circumstances, and while I'm certain some people would benefit from
and even enjoy that kind of opportunity, it isn't what I wanted. I wasn't very
popular at my previous school, either, so I'm afraid that the proverbial cards
are already stacked against me, not that I play cards, because—"
Porrim put her hand over his mouth. "Okay, you got quite a mouth on you, don't
you?" She was grinning, taking away some of the sting from her words.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm aware that I also have a tendency to ramble, which
obviously led to my inability to make friends at my old school."
She laughed, shaking her head. "That's understandable. How about I just poke
you when you're starting to talk too much?"
He considered it. His "word vomit" (as Karkat had so affectionately dubbed it
last year) was rooted in his personality, but maybe, for the time being, it
would be better for him to curb his habits, at least until he became generally
accepted. "Alright. That sounds agreeable."
===============================================================================
"Who the hell is that?" Cronus asked.
"Who's who?" Rufioh spun around wildly, nearly spilling his beer in the
process, until Cronus grabbed him by the jacket and straightened him out.
"That guy. Over there with the cheerleaders. The cat in the red sweater."
Kurloz paused from where he was juggling apples and looked over. "Never
motherfucking seen him before. Freshman?"
"Can't be. He's got lunch right now an' they never give freshmen second lunch,"
Cronus pointed out. "Sophomores, maybe, but not freshmen."
"So maybe he's a sophomore. Or he could be a junior. Gamzee, you seen him in
any of your classes?"
Gamzee was sitting on the pavement. Up until about twenty seconds before, he'd
been watching his brother's juggling and laughing at it. Now, he scratched the
back of his head. "Yeah. He was in my motherfucking homeroom. He motherfucking
wandered in later than me."
"Wait, wait, wait. I think I recognize that cat. He was in the hallway when we
were heading to homeroom, remember? Yeah, that was him—I recognize that sweater
a' his," Cronus laughed.
"So he's a junior," Rufioh said.
They were all quiet for a moment until Cronus remembered where he'd been going
with his first question. "Okay, so why the fuck is he hangin' out with the
fuckin' cheerleaders? They don't talk to anyone but the jocks, an' he don't
look very athletically-minded."
"Porrim fucked you," Kurloz pointed out.
"Yeah, an'? That doesn't mean anythin'. I never actually hung out with her, an'
she fucked half the school anyway."
"Well, shit, I got no idea why a new kid is hangin' out with some of the most
snotty, stuck-up chicks at school," Rufioh said with an exaggerated shrug. "But
maybe he is fuckin' one of them."
Cronus gave an undignified snort of laughter. "He looks like a total nerd! If
he's fuckin' one of them, I'll sell my fuckin' car."
Rufioh shrugged again and took a bite of his turkey sandwich. "Hey, thanks for
lunch, man."
"Don't mention it. It's no big deal." Cronus raised his bottle of beer to his
lips. It was his second of the afternoon—his buzz had worn off halfway through
science class and he'd been able to earn back the money he'd lost to Meenah,
but even tipsy, he'd noticed the way she seemed to be warming up to him.
Especially after finding out he had a car—she'd gotten very friendly after
that. Not that he was complaining in the slightest, of course. He could play it
cool for a few more days and make his move on Friday at the pep rally. He'd ask
her out for a slice of pizza or something, and hopefully she'd say yes.
But that led him to his other pet project—hooking Rufioh up. He didn't care so
much about trying to get Kurloz or Gamzee laid because frankly, they were both
total messes. He didn't envy the chicks that ended up with them, at least right
now. Strip away their leather jackets and they were burnouts. No, even dirt-
poor as he was, Rufioh had a far better chance than either of them. "Hey, Rufi,
who do you got your eye on this year?"
"What, you mean like, who do I wanna go with?"
"Yeah."
He tilted his head and took a swig of his beer. "I don't really know. You're
going after Meenah, right?"
Cronus hadn't expressly said anything about it. He'd either been way more
obvious than he thought or Rufioh was just really perceptive. "Yeah, you could
tell?"
Rufioh grinned. "You weren't exactly being subtle."
"Shut up." Cronus shoved him playfully, and Rufioh nearly slid off the hood of
Cronus's car laughing.
"Alright, man, well, she's not really my type anyway, so you don't gotta worry
about me moving in on her. She's kind of a bitch," he added.
He was right about that, but she was still Cronus's type. "Like you could
compete with me anyway," he joked.
"It wouldn't be any contest at all, really. Completely unfair. If I really
wanted her, there'd be no way she'd go out with your ass," Rufioh shot back.
"You're cruisin' for a bruisin'." He may have been right, though. If Rufioh's
family was as rich as his, it was entirely possible that Rufioh would have
better luck than him. Cronus wasn't about to admit that, though.
"I'm just kidding, man. I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it that
much. I don't really think there's any girls here who are my type."
"Okay, then what's your type?"
"I don't know," Rufioh said, shrugging. "I'll know her when I see her, I
guess."
"What about Damara?" Cronus had noticed that, too. She'd practically been
drooling all over him—Cronus was sure she'd say yes to him.
"Damara?" He furrowed his brows. "I don't know—is she even into me?"
Cronus nearly burst out laughing. "To say that she's into you would be an
understatement. She was flirtin' with you all the way through science class,
trust me. Although you callin' her 'doll' every other sentence probably didn't
help, either."
"I call every girl 'doll,' though."
He shrugged. "I call them like I see them, man. She likes you."
"Hmm. She is pretty cute," Rufioh admitted. He glanced at Kurloz and Gamzee.
The elder Makara had gone back to juggling the apples they'd all gotten for
lunch, but Gamzee was juggling now, too. He was tossing three empty bottles in
the air, slowly backing up onto the grass in case he dropped one. "These
fucking clowns," he said with a fond smile.
"Sometimes I wonder how it came to this," Cronus joked.
But he knew full well how they'd ended up as friends. Freshman year, Kurloz
hadn't been nearly as much of a stoner as he was now. He'd been a bit of a
weird one, true enough, but he was cool. The three of them had ended up in the
same history class, and for their whole freshman year, they'd been the terrible
trio. The next year, when Gamzee was a freshman, they'd assimilated him into
their group easily. The Makaras were both good for laughs, though, even now.
Even though they could be jackasses at times, they weren't bad guys.
"So." Rufioh flipped up the collar of his jacket. "You really think Damara
would say yes if I asked her out?"
"Oh, hell, yeah! Look, Friday night, I'm gonna ask Meenah out for pizza. If you
asked Damara out, you guys could join us an' we could double-date. The girls
would probably like that."
Rufioh nodded slowly. "Hmm. That's a good idea. I'll ask her then."
"Good." Cronus finished off his bottle and tossed it onto the grass. He twisted
around to grab his own sandwich off the hood of his car, looked back at Red
Sweater, and wondered once again who he was and, moreover, why he was already
so friendly with the cheerleaders.
Chapter End Notes
     Pssssst, if anyone didn't know, you can find me on tumblr at
     eridayumampora.tumblr.com!
***** Chapter 6 *****
When Rose Lalonde wandered into Home Economics, the last thing she expected to
see was a man sitting behind the desk. Her schedule had only listed her teacher
as Egbert, but men simply didn't teach Home Ec. It was a girls' class, after
all. Boys took Auto Shop or Wood Shop while girls took Home Economics. How odd.
She took a seat at one of the tables as more people shuffled in—including a
boy, Rose noted with some surprise. This was going to be a very interesting
semester.
The teacher looked up as a girl with short dark hair and oval glasses walked
past him. She waved excitedly. "Hi, Uncle—" She stopped when the teacher shook
his head once with a small smile.
"It's 'Mr. Egbert' in the classroom, Jane."
Her grin widened and she flashed him a thumbs-up. "You got it, Mr. Egbert!"
Rose raised an eyebrow.
The classroom filled up, the second bell rang, and Egbert stood up. He was
dressed crisply, in a long-sleeved white dress shirt, white pants, and a black
necktie. Rose amused herself for a moment with the image of him wearing a
floral-print apron during one of the cooking segments.
"Good afternoon, class. My name is Mr. Egbert, and I will be your instructor
for this course. Now, it looks like everyone's here, but..." He cracked another
small smile. "I should probably call roll to learn everyone's names." He took a
list off his desk and started rattling off names. When he got to Crocker, the
girl Jane, his niece apparently, chirped, "Here!"
Jane had joined Rose at her table, along with the lone boy and another girl
with short hair and a red skirt. They all looked friendly enough, although she
didn't really know what to make of him. What sort of boy took Home Economics?
Then again, that begged the question, what sort of man taught Home Economics?
Rose was the next one at their table to be called. After Linwood, he called
Maryam, and the other girl raised her hand. "Present." Two students later, he
reached Nitram, and the boy tentatively said, "Uh, here?"
A couple of girls at another table giggled. The boy went red and hid his face,
and Rose felt bad for him. He was probably going to get teased for taking Home
Ec, after all. What does it matter? she asked herself. So what if a boy wanted
to take Home Economics? Now that she thought about it, it was kind of
admirable. He wouldn't have to rely on someone else to cook and clean for him
or anything like that. Not many boys would willingly take on that
responsibility.
Once Mr. Egbert finished roll call, he put away his class roster and crossed
his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk. "So who wants to tell
me what they think Home Economics is about?"
Jane's hand shot up and a wry smile crossed his face briefly.
"Anyone besides Jane?"
No one else raised their hand.
"Okay, Jane. What's Home Ec about?"
"Sustaining a happy household."
He tilted his head to the side. "In the most generic terms, yes, you're right.
But I was looking for a bit more specific."
This time, Jane didn't have an answer.
"Specifically, this class will teach you how to bake and cook and clean, how to
do laundry, how to sew, how to manage household finances. Or, as I like to say,
it'll teach you self-sufficiency. If you can do all these things, you won't
need to rely on other people to help you—and I'm especially glad you're taking
this class, Mr. Nitram. Not many high school boys realize it would be smart for
them to know this sort of thing, too. I firmly believe that this class is not
just for girls, or else I wouldn't be teaching it." He paused for a moment.
"Besides, life happens. Circumstances change. Just because you may have someone
now who can do all those things doesn't mean you always will."
Well,thatwas morbid. But he was right about that. Rose knew perfectly well that
you couldn't always rely on someone to do the basic things for you. Even in her
own family, her mother was an alcoholic and probably hadn't cooked a meal in
twenty years. Her sister Roxy was heading down that same path of alcohol abuse
at eighteen. Rose was determined not to end up like either of them.
She didn't have to worry about being fed because her mother was rich enough to
afford a cook and a maid, but neither of them were about to teach Rose the
basics of doing laundry.
Mr. Egbert went on, continuing to tell them about what the course would cover,
but Rose became distracted when the girl on her right (she didn't know her
first name, just that her last name was Maryam) began digging around in her
bag. After a moment, she pulled out a notebook and a pen. Rose barely had time
to register Kanaya M. on the front cover of the notebook before the girl
flipped it open and began writing in a loopy, ridiculously large script. Rose
couldn't resist turning her head slightly to get a better look.
It almost looked like calligraphy. How had she learned how to do that? It
didn't even look like someone's actual handwriting. Who wrote like that? How
was that even possible?
Kanaya's hand paused and then set down the pen. Rose blinked and looked up.
Kanaya was looking right at her, and for once, Rose couldn't discern the
expression she wore.
"Excuse me," Kanaya said crisply.
"Hi, I'm Rose."
"Kanaya."
"Sorry, I just... your handwriting is incredible."
"Oh, is that what you were staring at?" Kanaya asked, a small smile appearing
on her face.
That polite little smile had Rose smiling back automatically.
"Yeah, sorry. I guess that was a little odd, wasn't it?"
"Perhaps a little." Kanaya was still smiling, so Rose could tell she wasn't too
upset about it, but she started to feel slightly self-conscious. It wasn't
often she was caught off her guard like that.
The boy later hesitantly introduced himself as Tavros. Rose wasn't sure how
well he'd do in the class—he looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment—but
Jane actually seemed to have a handle on what the class would entail, which
made sense, considering she was the teacher's niece. They would all probably
benefit from Jane's presence in their group.
Kanaya, she knew, was a sophomore. Rose remembered seeing her at lunch—the same
with Tavros. Jane, on the other hand... Rose didn't know about her. She didn't
look old enough to be a senior, so she was probably a junior. She looked nice
enough, though.
There was a small sound of ripping paper and then Rose felt something sliding
against her elbow. She glanced down just in time to see Kanaya's hand pulling
away from her and a small piece of folded-up paper against her arm. She
unfolded it and read that now-familiar script from earlier. Are You Planning On
Going To The Pep Rally This Weekend?
Rose smiled and pulled out her own pen. I hadn't really thought about it. I
might go. It depends on if I can get a ride. She slid the paper back to Kanaya.
The other girl read it over, twirling a lock of hair through her fingers before
writing her response and sending it back. My Sister Is A Cheerleader, So She
Will Need To Be There. I Will Be Going As Well. Perhaps We Could Provide
Transportation?
She realized she liked that idea a lot. She didn't have many friends—not
because she was unlikeable, but because she generally kept more to herself—but
Kanaya seemed to be intelligent thus far and nice to boot. Okay. I'm sure my
mother won't mind at all.
When Kanaya read her answer, Rose was sure she saw an excited smile before it
disappeared to be replaced by a neutral expression.
===============================================================================
One class Eridan was sure he was going to be thankful for this year was
seventh-hour Theater Arts. Even after the teacher explained what they'd be
doing during the class, he had a feeling it was going to be an incredibly easy
course. It would be fun, too, of course, but it wouldn't take much effort and
it would be just what he needed for his last class of the day, a welcome
reprieve from the utter bullshit of his sixth-hour American Literature class.
On top of that, he knew one of the other kids in his class already, another
sophomore named Feferi Peixes. They'd had their Algebra class together the year
before and talked a little bit—somehow, they'd discovered a mutual love of
aquariums—but they'd never actually spent any time together outside of school.
Maybe this year they could change that. He made a mental note to find out if
she was going to the pep rally that Friday.
The two of them naturally gravitated toward each other at the beginning of
class, as two people who half-knew each other in a class of strangers tended to
do. It was awkward at first—seconds before the bell signaling the start of
class and they stood there in the middle of the auditorium, staring at each
other, Eridan shuffling his feet. Her skirt was light blue and sea-green by
turns, her shirt was black, and her hair was dark brown and long with her bangs
pinned back behind her head to look like a crown or tiara. She looked really
nice and it made him a little nervous, but he cleared his throat anyway. "Hey,
Fef. You wanna sit with me?"
She smiled brightly, reassuring him. "Sure, Eridan! How was your summer?"
"Not long enough." He led the way to a row near the front and looked back at
her. "Is here okay?"
"It's just fine. I know what you mean about summer being too short, though. I
don't get nearly enough time to swim anemonemore."
He couldn't help but grin at her pun as he sat down in a seat in the middle of
the row. "You got a pool at your house, right?" he asked. He seemed to recall
her mentioning it the year before.
She sat down next to him and smoothed out her skirt; distantly, he heard the
second bell ring. "Yep! But I joined the swim team, too, so once practice
starts up, I'll be happier."
That surprised him. "The swim team? I didn't think there were any girls on the
swim team."
"Whale, there's one now! Once I tried out for the team, they practically begged
me to join, too!"
He chuckled. "So you're faster than you look, I guess."
"Yep! My parents say sometimes that I'm half-mermaid or something." She grinned
and shrugged. "I just really like to swim, though."
"So I take it you're goin' to the pep rally on Friday night?"
"Yeah, I pretty much have to now!"
They were forced to discontinue their conversation when their teacher stood up
and began talking, but it was enough for Eridan. In his mind, he'd already been
cemented as one of her friends for the year, and not being alone right now was
a comforting thought.
When the bell for dismissal finally rang, both he and Feferi jumped out of
their seats and nearly sprinted out of the auditorium right behind the rest of
the class. It had been a really long school day and Eridan was definitely
looking forward to going home, but he figured he'd be nice and walk her to her
car or something. He vaguely remembered that she had an older sister, although
he wasn't sure if his mind was just inventing things.
"How are you gettin' home?" he asked.
"My sister Meenah. She's going to be driving me and her friends Aranea and
Vriska to school every day this year, it looks like."
Eridan half-chuckled in solidarity and nodded. "Yeah, my brother's kinda like
the chauffeur right now since he has to drive me an' his friend Rufioh an'
Rufi's brother Tav. I know the feeling."
"Squished in the back, right?"
"Yeah, I don't get front-seat rights anymore." They stepped out into the
parking lot and Eridan swung his head in the direction of where he'd seen
Cronus's car during lunch. Kurloz, Gamzee, Rufioh, and Tavros were all hanging
out around there, leaning up against Cronus's car or Kurloz's car, but Cronus
himself was nowhere to be found.
"Who's that?" Feferi asked abruptly, drawing his attention in the other
direction.
There was Cronus, half-sitting on the hood of fuchsia-colored Chrysler and
talking to a girl with long, dark braids and pink glasses similar to Feferi's.
Actually, now that he was looking, she bore a striking resemblance to Feferi in
just about every other regard, too. "Is that your sister Meenah?" he asked.
"Yeah, but I can't figure out who that guy is. I know he's a tool, but..."
"That's a pretty accurate assessment," he said with a laugh. "That's my brother
Cronus."
She looked stunned for a moment before it melted away. "Oh, yeah. I guess I
forgot your last name was Ampora. It didn't even occur to me that it was the
same last name, either."
"Don't worry about it." Now that he was looking, though, he wondered what
Cronus was doing over there anyway. "Might as well go over there, right?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
They continued on to Meenah's car. Cronus sensed their approach and turned to
look at them, surprise dawning on his face. "Hey, little monster. What are you
doin' here?"
"Just seein' Fef to her car. I didn't know you two knew each other," Eridan
added, gesturing from Cronus to Meenah.
Both of them grinned and he suddenly realized what was going on with them. He
recognized it from last year. His brother was interested in Meenah, and he
didn't know why, but the thought worried him a bit. He knew her by reputation
and he knew the only way this would end was badly. Before he said anything,
though, he decided against it. Cronus was eighteen now. He could do what he
wanted. It wasn't going to affect his life in any way.
"We got science class together," Cronus explained, fishing a cigarette out of
the box and sticking it in his mouth. "By the way, never ever play poker
against her. She'll kick your ass."
Meenah's smirk widened and she bowed. "Compared to you, anemoneone would look
like a champ."
Cronus groaned and pretended to fall over, clutching his heart. "Damn, you cut
me real deep there."
"Meenah, what's with the trash on your car?" another voice asked, and they all
turned toward it to see a girl with short dark hair, blue glasses, and a blue
dress with a bright-pink jacket over her shoulders. She was glaring right at
the elder Ampora.
"Meenah, what's with the spider-bitch?" Cronus shot back.
"Could you two can it with the drama for ten glubbing seconds?" Meenah snapped.
"Stop antagonizin' each other. Cronus, I'll see you later. You're sure about
Rufioh?"
"Positive. Come on, little monster, let's go home."
Eridan barely got time to say goodbye to Feferi before his brother was dragging
him toward his car.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Dinner was a quiet affair. The Reverend Karter Vantas had returned from the
hospital, and after a brief but holy blessing over their food, they began
eating.
No one was allowed to speak during dinner unless Karter addressed them
first—his wife included. As such, dinner was almost always silent, save for the
clatter of silverware. Sometimes, Kankri was grateful for the peace, but
tonight, just once, he wished his father would at least ask him and Karkat how
their first day of school had been.
But that was too much to hope for. Karter Vantas was a fairly quiet man until
he was at his pulpit—then he seemed possessed by some oratory spirit, filling
him with holy words that poured forth to light his congregation aflame with the
Lord. Kankri respected him for that, but it was difficult not to wish sometimes
that they could be a normal family.
Once in awhile, Karkat would look up at him from his plate and they'd exchange
glances. It wasn't often that the two of them agreed on anything, but Kankri
could tell that his brother was bursting to say something. He would chew on the
inside of his cheek and peek up at their parents from time to time, and once or
twice he would even open his mouth to say something—Kankri hoped he didn't
because it would be a sure way to infuriate their father—but Karkat evidently
thought better of it at the last second and put another bite of chicken in his
mouth.
After dinner was finished and all the dishes were cleared away, Kankri went
back to his room. He didn't know what he was going to do for the rest of the
evening—he didn't have any homework to do and still no friends to hang out
with. He doubted Porrim would be paying a visit anytime soon, either. She had
plenty of other friends to hang out with, after all. She wouldn't want to spend
time with a preacher's son.
He tugged off his sweater and tossed it into his dirty clothes hamper. He
flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes without falling asleep. He supposed he
could have read or cracked one of his textbooks to get a jump on anything for
school, but he didn't feel like it. It wasn't often that he was taken restless,
but tonight, for some reason, he was. Maybe it was finally being finished with
his first day at Lakeside that had him wandering to his window and opening it.
It was getting dark already. He didn't notice how much time had already passed,
but it was close to eight. Music on the breeze floated into his room through
another open window somewhere else in the neighborhood, some happy love song
from just a year or two ago. He ran his fingers through his hair, resting his
elbows on the windowsill, and wondered if this was how you were supposed to
feel at sixteen. His birthday had only been six short weeks ago, the middle of
July, but he hadn't really felt sixteen until just now.
"If I give my heart to you, will you handle it with care?"
Kankri hopped up onto the windowsill, sliding the window open higher and
locking it open. He vaguely seemed to recall hearing this song before, maybe a
snippet of it when his mother changed the radio stations as they traveled up to
Ohio. The frequencies would change as they crossed county and state lines, but
she had a knack for tuning the radio.
"Will you always treat me tenderly and in every way be fair?"
It was the kind of sappy love song his father would scoff at. He would make
Kankri's mother change stations to something "less frivolous," but Kankri had
rather enjoyed the stations that played music and not just talking.
"If I give my heart to you, will you give me all your love?"
He wondered how it would feel to be in love. He couldn't even imagine the sort
of girl he'd fall in love with, but he hoped she would feel the same way as
him. His father had a tendency to say that romantic love was fleeting, that the
only love that lasted was the love God had for his people, but Kankri privately
thought that was nonsense. After all, Karter had married his mother, hadn't he?
They'd been married for seventeen years on Christmas day this year—surely he
didn't think that way about his wife.
"Will you swear that you'll be true to me by the light that shines above?"
He found his thoughts drifting, wondering what his parents had been like when
they first met, wondering how they'd fallen in love. Didn't it take a special
kind of love to marry someone? He didn't believe that his father really thought
the love between him and Kankri's mother was fleeting. That didn't make sense.
"And will you sigh with me when I'm sad? Smile with me when I'm glad?"
A car roared by with its windows rolled down, cutting through Kankri's
thoughts. He heard laughter from within mingling with more music, and he saw
the distinct glow of cigarettes. He couldn't tell how many people were in the
car, but he shook his head, half-smiling. He didn't know why, but he wished he
was out there right now, doing something—he didn't know what.
"And always be as you are with me tonight?"
The car disappeared from sight and hearing, leaving only the lingering
sensation of unease, of missed opportunities, of a chance that was fast
slipping away. He sighed, staring after it, wondering if it was something about
tonight that made him feel like he was on the verge of something important or
if it was just his imagination—or maybe it was a feeling that would stay with
him.
"Think it over and be sure, please don't answer 'til you do."
Another window slid open somewhere, but he barely noticed it. He hopped off the
windowsill and crossed his room to flick off the light. It was still fairly
early and he didn't have any desire to go to sleep, but he certainly wasn't
about to go into the living room just to watch his mother sewing or hear his
father hammering out his sermon for Sunday. Karter would look up at him and
make some comment on idleness, and Kankri really didn't want to hear it right
now.
"When you promise all those things to me, then I'll give my heart to you."
He heard a faint thud, and that he noticed. It seemed to come from outside, so
he slunk back to the window to look.
"And will you sigh with me when I'm sad? Smile with me when I'm glad?"
There was a figure out there in the tiny backyard. He picked himself up off the
ground and brushed off his pants before turning, and Kankri caught sight of his
face. It was Karkat.
"And always be as you are with me tonight?"
His younger brother's eyes widened in surprise and he put a finger to his lips
in a silent plea. Where is he going? Kankri wondered wildly, but he didn't dare
call out to him from the window. That was a sure way to attract their parents'
attention, and he had no intention of doing that, either.
"Think it over and be sure, please don't answer 'til you do."
Kankri nodded once, quickly, and the silhouette of Karkat's shoulders slumped
in relief. He spared a second to wave before dashing out of the backyard,
hopping the fence to the sidewalk, and tearing away from the house. He'd
evidently made friends today, far sooner than Kankri had, and he couldn't help
envying his younger brother for having some place to sneak out to tonight.
"When you promise all those things to me, then I'll give my heart to you."
Kankri dropped his window almost completely, leaving it cracked an inch. He
wouldn't tell his father that Karkat had gone out secretly. Perhaps that was
the way it was supposed to be, anyway—Karkat had always been the more
rebellious of them.
He went to his desk as the music from outside faded away into nothing and
pulled out a notebook and pencil from the drawer. For lack of anything better
to do tonight, he could sketch at least, even with his light off.
At least then, he wouldn't have to see how bad it looked.
===============================================================================
His dad usually passed out drunk around eight-thirty, and after that, he
couldn't be roused until sunrise—not that Rufioh planned to wake him anyway.
He'd made that mistake just once, eleven years ago. The result was so
terrifying that it stuck with him for good.
Once he was sure he heard his dad's snores from the living room sofa, he crept
to Tavros's room to make sure he didn't need anything and then slunk outside
through the front door. He probably didn't need to tiptoe—his father was
notorious for what he could sleep through—but he also didn't want to risk
anything. But once the front door closed behind him, he swung his jacket over
his shoulders and strolled down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. Cronus
and the rest of the Lost Boys would be heading to the Freeze King for burgers
and shakes. Kurloz would have swung by Cronus's house with Gamzee in tow, but
they would know better than to try to pick up Rufioh. They knew by now that it
was just asking for trouble.
As the barking of the Nitram family bulldogs faded behind him, he felt his
shoulders slumping. He pulled out a cigarette, struck a match, and let the
nicotine pour into his lungs. He liked walking anyway. It gave him a chance to
clear his head, gave him a reprieve into some much-needed isolation. Not that
he didn't love Tavros—he really did; he'd do anything for his brother—but he
couldn't talk to him. Not about anything that really mattered anymore, anyway.
There was so much he couldn't talk to him about. Or anyone else, for that
matter.
Cronus was his best friend, and he couldn't even talk to him anymore. It hurt
and he wished he could talk to someone, but no one would understand. All he
could do was pretend everything was alright and hope for the best.
It was Cronus's car that was in front of the Freeze King tonight, not Kurloz's.
He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him since Cronus would want to drive
around, to show off his car. He peered through the windows of the restaurant
and saw, sure enough, that all three of them were there. They had gotten a
booth and were currently shooting straw wrappers at each other.
Rufioh smiled to himself and went inside, flicking his cigarette butt to the
ground. The bell above the door rang, drawing the attention of half of the
patrons, including his friends. Cronus turned around, caught sight of him,
grinned, and waved him over. Rufioh tried to ignore the uptick to his heart
rate as he waved back and went to join them.
Both of the Makaras had taken one side of the booth, allowing Rufioh to slide
into the booth next to Cronus. "Hey, guys. You already order yet?"
"Yeah," Cronus said. "Hey." He kicked Gamzee underneath the table—the younger
Makara was blowing bubbles in his soda. "Grow the fuck up, chief."
"Calm the motherfuck down," Gamzee said lazily, crossing his eyes at Cronus.
"Anyway, when the waitress comes back, you can order, too."
There was a reason Rufioh had eaten dinner back at home—he couldn't afford to
eat out. He nodded quickly and picked up a menu and pretended to look it over
until a balled-up napkin came flying at his head. He giggled and tossed it back
at Kurloz, who nearly fell out of the booth laughing.
"You're a fuckin' dork," Rufioh laughed.
He managed to keep himself occupied until the waitress came back with Cronus's
and Kurloz's burgers and fries and Gamzee's chicken fingers and fries. Then she
glanced at Rufioh and smiled. "Hey, hon, what can I get you?"
Rufioh smiled to cover his sudden return of nerves and said, "Nothin', doll,
I'm fine."
The next thing he knew, Cronus was leaning across him, pinning him to the seat
between his arm and his body, sending a wave of delicious-smelling cologne over
him. Rufioh inhaled surreptitiously, wishing Cronus's proximity didn't send his
heart racing and his head spinning. Stop it, his brain protested feebly, but he
wanted nothing more than to shove Cronus against the seat and kiss him hard.
I'm a freak.
"Don't listen to him. Whatever he wants, put on my check," Cronus said with a
smile of his own.
Damn him for being so goddamn nice. The Lost Boys were the only ones who ever
got to see how chill Cronus could actually be. He gave off a "tough guy" image
when other people were around, but when the four of them were in their own
self-contained bubble, the act dropped.
The fact was, Rufioh had had a stupid, freakish crush on Cronus since the
moment he laid eyes on him in freshman year. It wasn't just that he was dark
and gorgeous with a self-assured swagger borne of money and style—although that
had a lot to do with it. It was also the way he obviously cared about his
friends, evidenced by the time he'd punched out a senior when they were
sophomores for talking shit about Rufioh's family. If anything, though, it had
only exacerbated his crush on Cronus. Sometimes, he wasn't convinced that he
didn't know how Rufioh felt about him, though, because it seemed like he was
openly flirting with him, although other times—like earlier today—he wondered
how he didn't know. Trying to set him up with Damara Megido... there was
nothing wrong with her, per se, but he just didn't like her. It was cool that
she had a crush on him or whatever, but it was useless.
Cronus leaned back and affectionately smacked Rufioh on the shoulder. "So,
whatcha want, chief?" Like that—it could have been a genuine flirtation. It
almost seemed deliberate, and no matter how much Rufioh wished Cronus didn't
affect him like that, he also half-enjoyed the way he felt whenever Cronus
showed him any kind of attention. It was confusing. If Rufioh didn't know him,
he would say he flirted with everyone, even him.
"Uh, can I get a double bacon cheeseburger with the works, an order of fries,
and a cherry Coke?" He had just eaten an hour or so before, but he was still
incredibly hungry. It seemed like the only things he felt constantly were
confused and hungry. It was an infuriating combination.
"Sure thing. Be right back, hon."
"Bangarang." He grinned at the waitress until she left the table, and then his
smile dropped. "Thanks for that, man," he said to Cronus.
"Don't worry about it, chief. It's really no big deal," Cronus said, cuffing
him on the shoulder again.
Rufioh forced a grin and slid his sunglasses on to hide half of his face.
Neither of the Makaras would probably notice if his gaze lingered a little too
long on Cronus, but Cronus himself probably would.
They couldn't know. They could never know—Cronus especially. They would hate
him forever, more than he hated himself, and he hated himself a lot.
But Cronus didn't seem to notice right now and he kept cracking lame jokes and
nudging Rufioh and, in general, unintentionally fanning the flames of Rufioh's
attraction. He would laugh along with the Makaras, but inside, all he heard was
a steady mantra of I'm a freak, I'm a freak.
And he was. He was a freak.
***** Chapter 8 *****
The next morning saw Kankri and Karkat leaving the house fifteen minutes
earlier than the day before. During breakfast, Kankri told his mother that
they'd cut their arrival time very close the previous day and that it would be
wiser for them to leave sooner. Karkat hadn't liked it much—he ended up missing
breakfast completely—but when they got to school and Kankri brought him to the
area by the bleachers where the cheerleaders hung out, they were rewarded with
cupcakes.
Apparently, it was Porrim's eighteenth birthday, and a junior named Jane
Crocker (who was not a cheerleader but quite obviously a school-wide baking
guru) had been asked to make cupcakes for the occasion. Fortunately, she'd made
about five dozen, far too many for the small gaggle of cheerleaders. This meant
that by the time the first bell rang, Karkat's face was smeared with strawberry
frosting and he'd shoved the wrappers of three cupcakes into his pockets.
Kankri was satisfied with just one.
He hadn't known it was Porrim's birthday, though, and he wished that she'd told
him. Then again, maybe it made sense that she hadn't. Were they actually
friends? Or was she just being nice to him by hanging out with him?
He opted not to wear his red sweater today, since he'd just worn it the day
before and wearing the same thing two days in a row, especially the first two
days, was bound to attract negative attention. He did not want to be known as
"weird sweater guy" or some variant thereof. Instead, he wore a different pair
of dress pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way
down.
The bell rang about five seconds after he took his seat in homeroom, and about
five seconds after that, the door opened back up again and a late student
wandered in and went to the back of the room. It all happened rather quickly,
but terror flooded through Kankri all the same. He'd somehow managed to
overlook this guy the day before, but there was no ignoring him now. It
was—what did Porrim say his name was? Gamzee? That sounded about right—and his
eyes were bloodshot when he strolled in, but his grin was wide, almost
clownish, and he waved at the teacher, who just sighed and shook her head.
Kankri tried to look as small as possible as Gamzee passed by him.
The loudspeaker crackled to life with the four-note chime that Kankri had
learned meant the morning announcements. Almost as one, his classmates slumped
back in their seats and sighed. Yesterday's announcements had taken about five
minutes, so he expected today's would be similar.
"Good morning, students. Today is Tuesday, August 30, 1955.
"This is just a reminder that Lakeside High's first pep rally will be this
Friday. The bonfire will be lit at seven-thirty. Come and support Lakeside's
athletics and enjoy a wonderful performance by our school's marching band and
cheerleading squad.
"The first football game of the season will be a home game on Saturday against
the Jefferson High School Barracudas. Kickoff is at four o'clock, so be sure to
arrive early to get good seats."
He'd be going to the pep rally—or trying to, anyway—but he had no intention of
going to the football game. Sports in general held little interest to him.
Besides that, his father regarded athletics for their own sake to be a waste of
time.
"Nominations for student council president, vice president, secretary,
treasurer, and representatives for sophomores, juniors, and seniors will be
accepted next week during homeroom. Nominations for freshmen will be the
following week, after you've all gotten a chance to know each other a little
better."
Well. That was different. At his old school, the upperclassmen held their
elections for the next year's student council before school let out for the
summer so, once school started back up, only the freshmen had to elect their
council. He raised his eyebrows and sat up a little straighter, his mind
whirring. He'd been on the student council in both his freshman and sophomore
years at his old school. Maybe he'd be able to make it this year, too.
Then again, he had just started over at this school. He couldn't think of a
single junior he actually knew who would vote for him. He'd probably have
better luck if he ran as a senior.
The principal—he still didn't know her name—went on, "You can nominate yourself
or others for any of the positions. Think carefully on who you'd like to
represent you!
"Another reminder that tickets for the homecoming dance will be on sale
starting next Monday during both lunches. Tickets will be five dollars per
person, seven dollars per couple. Keep an eye out for homecoming committee
members for more information!"
Five dollars was ridiculously expensive. His parents would almost certainly not
be willing to spend that kind of money on homecoming tickets, and he didn't
have money of his own. His father regarded the whole process of homecoming to
be frivolous, anyway, especially when neither he nor Karkat would really be
"coming home." Karter Vantas, upon hearing that Kankri had wanted to go to
homecoming his freshman year, had flat-out said, "Freshman don't go to
homecoming." Kankri had almost argued but wisely decided against it at the last
minute. It was useless to argue with his father.
He also didn't have anyone he could really go to the dance with, anyway, and he
didn't relish the idea of going stag, so there was that.
The principal went on, but even Kankri, who had a fairly lengthy attention
span, found his thoughts drifting. He glanced up at the clock, idly wondering
when lunch was, and realized that announcements had been going on for six
minutes now. He hoped it wouldn't be like this for the whole school year.
"One final reminder to our older students: even if you are eighteen, the
consumption of alcohol is expressly forbidden on school grounds. This rule
applies at all times—at lunches, before school, after school—and during all
school-related functions, including pep rallies and sporting events. Any
student caught with alcohol on their person will be suspended for one week."
Kankri couldn't help but smile to himself at that. It appeared he wasn't the
only one to notice the greasers drinking the day before.
"Happy eighteenth birthday to Porrim Maryam. Have a good day, students."
Another four-note chime rang out, a reversal of the sequence from earlier, and
the loudspeaker snapped off. There was silence for a few long moments before
the teacher surveyed them all and said, "I hope you all caught that about
alcohol on school grounds. Apparently, the janitorial staff last night saw
several empty beer bottles on the grass near the parking lot. Everyone is
encouraged to report it if they see students drinking on school property."
Kankri debated for a moment but decided not to say anything. Not this time,
anyway. If he saw the greasers drinking on campus again, he'd report them, but
he'd let it slide this time.
Homeroom let out a few minutes later and the crush of juniors joined the rest
of the student body as everyone scrambled for their lockers and started
juggling books. Kankri had one of the last lockers in the corridor, closest to
the main hallway of the building, so he had a little more elbow room, but the
lack of his sweater had somehow rendered him invisible and he found himself
still being jostled by people passing by. I might as well be a freshman again
for how much attention people pay me. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or
a bad thing, but he suspected, if he was thinking of running for the student
council, that it was probably bad. No one would vote for him if they didn't
know who he was. What happened to yesterday, when he was "the preacher's son"?
Was that over so fast?
He slammed his locker shut and hefted the books for his first two classes into
his arms. The hallways were already starting to empty out, and he didn't want
to be late on the second day.
===============================================================================
She sat cross-legged at her desk, tilting her head to the side and
surreptitiously peeking at the boy next to her. He was cute in a young-looking
sort of way, with a delicate sort of nose. He squinted, though, giving him a
perpetually-annoyed expression. Or maybe he just was perpetually annoyed. It
was possible. He'd grumbled under his breath a lot the day before.
She was careful not to let him see her looking at him, though. It would be
embarrassing, of course—but he might also just be flat-out angry with her. She
was sketching him, and it definitely wasn't great, but he might think it was
meant to be insulting even though she didn't mean it to be insulting at all.
She just found his face compelling.
She finished outlining his facial features and glanced back up for a better
look at his eyes. She couldn't tell if they were gray or light blue—they
probably varied based on lighting or something like that—but she settled on
gray and shaded his eyes in with her pencil. His hair was messy, falling into
his eyes, and she instinctively wanted to push it back.
The teacher began weaving between the desks, so she slid the drawing under her
notebook and pretended to be taking notes. Fortunately, math had always come
easy for her, so she wasn't too concerned with studying algebra. She had other
things on her mind—like her sister trying to talk her into trying out for the
cheerleading squad. She didn't have anything against being a cheerleader, but
she didn't really want to give up a lot of her free after-school time to devote
to learning cheers and waving pom-poms at football players. She was actually
thinking about trying out for the winter play—she heard it was going to be
Macbeth—but she'd forgo it if she found that her workload was going to be too
much.
By the time the class ended, she'd finished the sketch and glanced at his book
just long enough to see that his first name was Karkat (she did seem to recall
that he had an unusual name). She scrawled it across the top of the sketch as
quickly as she could, wrote her initials and the date at the bottom, and tossed
it onto his desk. Before he could react, she started gathering up her books and
headed out the door, but she looked back just in time to catch him looking over
the drawing with an actual smile on his face.
Nepeta smiled, too, and went back to her locker. She had PE next, so she didn't
want to bring any books with her.
Boys and girls had PE together, which was different than her middle school.
Even more strange to her was the fact that they threw together freshmen and
sophomores in their PE classes as well, although apparently it wasn't required,
only optional, for juniors and seniors. Still, she didn't really like the idea
of having a class with sophomore boys.
They had five minutes after the second bell rang to be changed into their PE
uniforms, so Nepeta scrambled into the Lakeside High School red-and-purple T-
shirt and gym shorts and hurried out of the girls' locker room to the gymnasium
floor as quickly as she could. A lot of boys were already lined up, dribbling a
few basketballs on the court, although there was one who hadn't joined them.
She slunk over to them and hunched down.
He glanced down at her briefly—he was at least eight inches taller than her—but
didn't say anything. She met his gaze, grinned, and said, "Cat got your
tongue?"
He furrowed his brows for a moment before a small smile broke across his face.
"I was unaware we were having a conversation."
"We are meow!" she said, her obsessive love of cat puns showing itself. "Why
aren't you playing with them? Are they all sophomores and you're a freshman?"
she added as a few more boys wandered out of the boys' locker room and
immediately went to the impromptu basketball game. He didn't really look like a
freshman, but that didn't mean much.
"No, I'm a sophomore. But as it happens, basketball is not my game. I have the
height for it, true enough, but I never quite grasped the concept of
dribbling." He watched the other boys—along with one of the girls, who had
managed to swipe the basketball and was now dashing full-tilt down the
court—and crossed his arms over his chest.
"So no sports at all?"
"I play baseball."
"You any good?"
He grinned. "I don't wish to brag, but I happen to be a phenomenal batter and
an excellent third baseman."
"Then you better hope we'll be playing baseball today," Nepeta joked.
At that moment, the PE teacher blew his whistle, signaling the start of the
actual class, and everyone began drifting toward where he stood. He led the
class in warm-up stretches and then sent them running three laps around the
gym, and the sophomore—Nepeta hadn't caught his name, which made her want to
smack herself—immediately pulled to the front of the pack. He seemed to be
nothing but legs when he ran, a blur of red and purple and the shock of black
that was his long hair. He finished the circuits first, ten seconds before the
next person, and barely seemed winded, although he was sweating profusely. Then
the teacher ushered them all outside for their actual event for the day.
Soccer.
Nepeta didn't see the appeal of chasing a ball up and down a field for an
hour—maybe that was why she didn't like football, either, which was basically
the same thing but with far more contact. At least it was faster-paced than
football.
She would have preferred to stay on the sidelines and draw, but when the teams
were divided up, she was one of the first girls to be picked—by the sophomore,
who she heard the PE teacher refer to as Equius. She didn't end up contributing
much to the game since she got knocked over more times than she cared to count,
but it was nice not to be chosen last for once.
Maybe she and Equius could be friends. He seemed nice enough, and baseball at
least was one sport she could follow pretty easily. He seemed to like her, too,
since he'd picked her to be on his team relatively early on while there were
still other girls who had outrun her during their warm-up laps.
As they drifted back inside to change back into their regular clothes, she
decided she'd talk to him more tomorrow. At the very least, Meulin would be
glad to hear that she was starting to make friends.
Back in the locker room, there were already a few girls from the next class
changing into their gym uniforms. The only one Nepeta really noticed was the
one who'd picked the locker right next to hers, a girl maybe an inch taller
than her with her long, dark waves pulled back in a high ponytail and her
fuchsia-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She flashed Nepeta
a wide smile as she finished tying her shoes and scooted over on the bench to
make room for her, and Nepeta smiled back, feeling shaky for reasons she
couldn't quite figure out. She normally always knew what to say, but this time,
she couldn't think of anything.
It wasn't until the other girl had sauntered out to the gym that Nepeta thought
of something. How are you? She thunked her forehead against the adjacent
locker. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She changed her clothes as quickly as she
could, trying to shove the embarrassing encounter out of her mind, but she was
only reminded once again as she left the locker room a few minutes later and
saw the same girl. She waved and Nepeta waved back, but she still blushed as
she left.
I'll talk to her tomorrow, too. Maybe.
***** Chapter 9 *****
The bus bumped over the pockmarked road, but Roxy barely noticed a thing. She
unscrewed the cap to her flask and took a surreptitious swig, ducking slightly
behind the seat to avoid attention. For the next few weeks, school officials
would be watching anyone suspected of drinking on school property, and sure,
she wasn't technically on school property anymore, but the bus still fell under
school jurisdiction and it would be wise to keep her little habit (as Roxy's
own mother called it) a secret.
The Smirnoff burned her throat going down, but it was a good burn. She closed
her eyes and smiled, leaning back in her seat. Her sister Rose was a few seats
ahead of her, the clacking of her knitting needles drowned out by the cacophony
in the bus, but she had her head down, so Roxy knew she could only be knitting
right now. That was Rose's little habit, her nigh-compulsive knitting, but at
least it was nowhere near as destructive as Roxy secretly knew hers was.
Roxy frowned and took another swig out of her flask. She had a pretty good idea
who it was who'd left those beer bottles on school property—she'd seen the
brown bottles as she left the day before only a few feet away from Kurloz
Makara's Mainline. She couldn't think of anyone besides the Lost Boys (herself
excepted) who would be so brazen as to drink during lunch on school grounds.
The problem was that the bottles had been found, and now the Boys had called
down the microscopic gaze of the school administrators, as though kids hadn't
always drunk on campus. The Lost Boys were adorable, and Cronus and Rufioh were
attractive in that jaded, bad-boy kind of way, but they were idiots for leaving
their damn bottles.
She was far better at covering her tracks—the vodka had little in terms of
flavor or scent, unlike whiskey or her mother's gin, which made it easier to
hide it. She didn't necessarily have to at home, considering her mother knew
about her drinking and, in fact, practically condoned it, but at school was
another matter. Everyone knew, too—Meenah and Aranea and Vriska and Damara, as
well as anyone who spent more than ten minutes at a time with her. They all
knew, but none of them saw it. As far as they knew, she was just always drunk
naturally.
She took another swig as the bus slowed to a stop. People began gathering up
their belongings, but Roxy stayed put. This wasn't her stop. There were still
two more stops to go.
Rose cast a quick glance back at her, which she returned for a moment before
shifting her attention out the window. It was still sweltering hot outside and
probably would be for a few more weeks, but that suited her just fine. She far
preferred warmer weather if it meant she wasn't forced outside to shiver.
Besides, warm weather meant summer, no school, lounging by the pool and
reading. It meant being able to stay home and not have to worry about
impressing anyone. It meant not having to hear Meenah and Damara and Aranea
giggle about the boys while Roxy pretended to giggle along with them.
And it wasn't that she didn't like boys—she liked them just fine. It was that,
as far as relationships and actually going with them was concerned, she wasn't
interested. When she cared to think about it (which wasn't often), she realized
she didn't really like anyone in that way, so she tried not to think about it
and drank instead.
It wasn't the only reason she drank so much, but it was a reason.
When the bus finally rolled to a stop two blocks away from their house, Roxy
finished off the last of the vodka and stashed the flask in her bag between her
books. She got to her feet, picked up her bag, and started walking, digging her
nails into the seats as she passed them to keep her steady. She was just a
little tipsy right now, but that was because she only had a few ounces in her
flask and it had to get her through the day. She once considered carrying a
second flask, but she was a lady. Ladies didn't carry two flasks, especially
not at school.
She'd refill her flask the moment she got home, put it in the refrigerator, and
keep it there for tomorrow before making a double martini for herself and
starting on her homework. That was what ladies did.
Rose was waiting a few feet from the bus when Roxy stepped off. "What I've
gleaned from your step is that you're drunk again," she murmured, wrapping her
arm around Roxy's waist. "I'm assuming your flask is empty, correct?"
"Cor-rect!" Roxy slurred back.
"Okay." Rose sighed. "Let's get you home."
Even half-drunk, Roxy could tell that her sister wanted to lecture her on her
drinking, but she also knew that Rose wouldn't actually say anything. Rose had
given her a lecture many times over the past three years, and only recently had
she realized it was a waste of breath. After all, it was essentially two
against one—with both Roxy and their mother compulsive drinkers, Rose just
couldn't win. All she could do was damage control. She kept the household
running and prevented Roxy and their mother from hurting themselves and stood
silently by, unable to intervene.
Roxy actually pitied her for it sometimes, and the guilt was so strong, it made
her reach for a bottle again.
I'm the world's shittiest sister, she thought sadly, leaning against Rose and
allowing the younger blonde to lead her home. I should be taking care of her,
not the other way around. What a goddamn mess.
She wondered if her mother ever thought the same thing. Sometimes, Roxy wanted
to smash every bottle in their house just to force her mother to talk to her,
so they could have an actual conversations as actual people instead of through
a gin- and vodka-soaked haze. For the eighteen, nearly nineteen years Roxy had
spent with her mother, they knew surprisingly little about each other. Every
early memory Roxy had of the eldest Lalonde was of her mother being drunk—and
whenever Roxy tried to call to mind even one single time when she wasn't, she
came up blank.
Roxy rubbed her forehead and tried not to cry as Rose unlocked the front door
and ushered her inside. It was dark with every single one of the curtains
tugged over the windows, but Roxy could navigate these hallways blind as well
as drunk. She didn't have the energy to go to her mother's personal bar right
now, so she simply stumbled toward her room. She was tired and sad and all she
really wanted to do was sleep for a few hours. After a nap, maybe she could
start to function again.
===============================================================================
Crack!
The bat made a good, solid sound as it connected with the ball, but even
without looking, Equius knew it would be a foul ball. He could hear the
difference between foul balls and home-run-worthy cracks, and this one was
definitely the former. He'd been playing this game for a long time now. Nothing
escaped his notice.
The next pitch was a strike—the third strike for number 52. He was new, though.
He'd get the hang of it. He'd shown a lot of promise during tryouts, and he'd
spend most of his first season on the bench, but maybe by his sophomore year,
he'd be junior varsity.
"Zahhak!" his coach yelled. The coach had a way of slurring his last name,
pronouncing it Zack, that slightly irritated him. He and Horuss pronounced it
carefully, enunciating the Hs as best they could because that was how their
father pronounced it as well as the rest of their family all the way back as
far as they could trace. Equius tried not to let his annoyance show on his
face, though. Many people rushed over the letters.
He swung his bat from hand to hand as he approached home plate. He hoped number
52 was watching—he could improve his technique by watching Equius. It was no
longer bragging to say that he was an exceptional baseball player, either. He
was a sophomore and in the varsity string. Players didn't typically make
varsity until their junior or senior year. He had a gift, though. He would have
been varsity the year before, except "freshmen are not varsity material."
The pitcher shook his head slightly, waited, nodded. He and the catcher had
decided on a pitch. Equius brought his bat up and held it carefully, sweat
already beading up on his forehead. It was good, though. He felt sharp and
strong, like a bow about to fire.
Quick as an arrow, the ball flew, and Equius assessed it in a half a second. A
fastball, surely not the pitcher's strongest throw, but a powerful one
nonetheless—except it was coming in too low, far too low. Equius hopped to the
side lest the pitch hit him in the ribs.
"Hey, watch it, Marsten! You trying to kill my star batter?" Coach Diamonds
barked.
Equius chuckled. True, it might have hurt him, but it would take far more than
a pitch to kill him.
The next pitch was a curve ball, textbook perfect. Fortunately, Equius knew
exactly how to counter it. He swung, relaxing his fingers just enough to slide
his bat further out, and tightened his grip again just in time to connect with
the ball.
That was a powerhouse swing. The crack was earsplitting, and with all the
muscle Equius put behind it, the ball went flying. He dropped his bat and ran
for first base while the players on second and third scrambled for the next
point. They didn't need to hurry, though—the ball was soaring over the
outfielders' heads and beyond the fence. The center outfielder looked annoyed,
but only because, right now, he was against Equius's team in the scrimmage.
He rounded the bases and got back to home plate, where he finally picked up the
bat he'd dropped. Whoops. Apparently he'd put more muscle than he realized into
his batting, because the bat had split. "Sorry, Coach," he said, carefully
setting the now-broken bat behind the bench.
"Keep breaking bats like that," Diamonds said. "If it means we get hits like
that, break all the damn bats you want."
Equius grinned sheepishly and sat back down, feeling the purple number 10
digging into his back. It wasn't the first bat he'd broken at practice, and it
most certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd broken more at games, though. He got
in some amazing hits when he played the year before, and he'd only been
"freshman fantastic." As a sophomore on varsity, he imagined he'd be playing
nearly every game.
Diamonds blew his whistle, and the rest of the players on the field started
walking toward the dugout. Practice was over, and now would come the inevitable
pep talk. It was the kind of thing Equius normally paid rapt attention to, but
his mind started to wander.
Horuss would be getting out of practice soon, too. He was a wrestler, also
varsity, but as a senior, that wasn't a surprise. He'd lettered in wrestling
ages ago, too, and he was exceptional at it. Horuss was only three inches
taller than Equius, who at fifteen had already reached six feet tall, but
Horuss was also wider, more bulky than his younger brother.
Once Diamonds dismissed them, Equius took a quick shower in the locker room and
headed out to wait for Horuss by his brother's truck. It was originally their
father's, but upon Horuss's sixteenth birthday, he'd given him the truck, and
somehow, it fit him. Equius couldn't imagine his brother driving a different
vehicle. In the intervening two years, Horuss had removed the engine twice and
replaced half of truck's components—not because he needed to, but because he
was a mechanical genius. He was taking Auto Shop this year even though he
didn't need to because he simply wanted to work on more cars.
Equius was less mechanically-inclined when it came to cars, but he liked
building other things. He just didn't have time. He was usually so busy with
baseball—and track during the off-season—that he barely had time to do his
homework at night. But it suited him just fine. His frantic schedule was able
to distract him pretty well from the sad fact that he didn't really have any
friends.
Horuss appeared a few minutes later, a towel draped around his neck. No one
would mistake him and Equius for anything but brothers—they had the same dark
skin and hair as well as the same eyes, although Horuss kept his hair much
longer than Equius did, long enough for him to tie back. "How was practice?" he
asked, tossing his bag in the bed of the truck.
Equius had long since done the same. "It was fine. I broke another bat during
practice."
"You did? What did Diamonds say?"
Equius fished the bat out of the truck. "He let me keep it. He thought it was
great. It was a home run."
Horuss raised an amused eyebrow. "I see. Well, then, you earned that bat. What
do you plan to do with it?"
"I was going to present it to Father for his next birthday. I believe he will
find the gift most heartfelt."
"You are quite right. That sounds like a most excellent gift. I applaud you."
Equius grinned and slid into the passenger's seat of the truck. "So how was
your practice?"
"It went well. I was assigned a freshman wrestler to train on the finer points
of certain holds since he didn't understand them."
"When is your next meet?"
"It's still a few weeks away, which is fortunate since most of the freshmen and
the junior varsity string aren't ready yet. The summer has been difficult for
them. I believe they forgot much of what they've learned." Horuss hadn't
forgotten, though. He'd used Equius to practice all summer and Equius had
dutifully gone along with it until he thought he could probably try out for the
wrestling team himself.
Horuss started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The cheerleaders
were starting to head home as well as the various sports teams, and a flash of
olive-green caught Equius's eye. He was reminded of that freshman from gym
class, the one who'd spoken to him out of the blue. She'd been wearing olive-
green when she left the class, after all.
It wasn't her, though. It was Meulin Leijon, a senior, although Equius realized
that she and the freshman—Nepeta, he seemed to recall her name being—looked
like they could be sisters. Meulin was walking toward an indigo Mainline with
someone inside it and he couldn't see who it was, but before he got a chance to
look closer, Horuss was turning the corner and the school parking lot was out
of sight.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Day three was the first day Cronus attended every class of the day. The first
two days, he'd skipped Debate class—on Monday, because he was drunk, and on
Tuesday, because he and Rufioh had opted to hang out with Meenah and Damara
under the bleachers and make snide comments about the underclassmen in Phys. Ed
class. Things were going well on that front, he thought. Despite Aranea's
obvious disgust for him, Meenah seemed perfectly content to spend time with
him, and Damara was only too happy to bask in Rufioh's presence.
To his recollection, he didn't think Rufioh had ever even had a girlfriend, so
when he seemed nervous with Damara's attentions, it was understandable. He just
needed to get used to talking to girls and he'd be fine—he had the naturally-
magnetic personality and looks that most girls loved, so he really didn't have
to try very hard. Still, he looked a bit on-edge, so Cronus figured he'd take
him aside later and help him out.
In the meantime, most of his attention was focused on Meenah and making her
laugh any way he could.
Wednesday, though, was a different story. He knew he couldn't skip the same
class forever, so he finally went to his sixth-hour class and sat down in the
back, as far away from the teacher as possible.
Of course, that didn't last very long. Some junior in a bow tie came up to him
and said, "Hey, man, that's my seat."
Cronus half-rose out of the desk and grabbed Jake English by the shirt. "Not
anymore, daddy-o—this is my—"
"Mr. Ampora, I'm so glad you decided to join us today," the teacher said
coldly.
Cronus slowly turned his head toward the teacher. She looked pleasant enough,
but her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring sharply at him. Of
course, what he noticed most was her accent—it was British, which tripped him
up a bit. She was probably new. He certainly didn't remember seeing her before.
Reluctantly, he let go of Jake's shirt.
"Thank you. Now then, Mr. Ampora, since you weren't here the first two days, I
went ahead and assigned you a seat in the hope that one day you'd deign to
wander into class and actually participate." She touched a desk in the front.
"Your desk is right up here. Kindly relocate your belongings."
Fuming silently, Cronus stood up and started walking to the desk his teacher
had indicated. This was a mistake. I should have just skipped the whole
semester, he grumbled to himself.
One kid half-turned to look at him. Cronus definitely didn't recognize this
guy, but he had to be either a junior or a senior—this class was only offered
to upperclassmen. Then he realized who he was, or at least that he at least
vaguely knew him. This was the guy in the red sweater on the first day hanging
out with Porrim and the rest of the cheerleaders, the new kid. That explained
why Cronus didn't know who he was.
He wasn't wearing that oversized red sweater today. He wore dress pants and a
button-down shirt, and his hair was wild and tangled. His eyes were wide and
brown, the dark, deep shade of chocolate, and something behind them hinted at a
sharp intelligence—or would have, if he didn't look so terrified. That by
itself puzzled Cronus, but he didn't really have a chance to think about it too
much. His seat was two desks in front of Red Sweater and he sat down, crossing
his arms in front of his chest and staring insolently at the teacher.
"At least today, everyone is present," she said lightly, marking something on
the class roster. She capped her pen, went to the bookshelf against the wall
with the door, and picked up a textbook. She made a big show of bringing it
over to Cronus's seat and dropping it on his desk from three feet up; it made a
loud bang as it impacted. The whole class jumped in their seats, Cronus
included, but he found himself fighting a grin as the Debate teacher said,
"Your textbook, Mr. Ampora." Sure, she was being a bit obnoxious and over-
dramatic, but not every teacher would let you know when they were actively
irritated. It was actually kind of funny, and Cronus couldn't help but be
amused and actually like her. She was young, too, in her early thirties by the
looks of it, and he got the feeling that this class might not be so bad, at
least while she was teaching.
"Now, then, yesterday we were discussing the importance of body language and
eye contact when it comes to persuasion. You'll remember that a person who
makes more eye contact will be seen as more persuasive than someone who makes
less eye contact. Who remembers why that is?"
No one answered. Cronus raised an eyebrow. The teacher—he made a mental note to
check his schedule and figure out what her name was—looked around, shook her
head, and sighed. Out of nowhere, she suddenly slammed her hands on Cronus's
desk and lunged forward, getting right into his face. He nearly fell out of his
chair. "It's because rapid blinking and eye contact avoidance are signs of lack
of confidence and, by extension, insincerity and falsehoods," she said. She
neither blinked nor looked away from Cronus once.
She straightened up and started pacing, and Cronus again found himself fighting
laughter. He was sure of it now—this class might actually be interesting.
===============================================================================
Oh, no. Just when he thought he was safe from greasers.
It seemed like he was seeing them everywhere now—the one in his homeroom,
between every one of his classes, at lunch, and now, in his Debate class.
He'd barely noticed when Ampora strolled in and tried to take Jake English's
seat, but he definitely paid attention when Miss Muse said, "Mr. Ampora, I'm so
glad you decided to join us today."
Ampora. He'd heard that name before. Actually, he'd heard it quite a few times
by now, in various tones of disgust. He knew exactly who Ampora was, and he
suddenly wished he had his sweater so he could hide in it. He felt exposed
without it.
"Thank you. Now then, Mr. Ampora, since you weren't here the first two days, I
went ahead and assigned you a seat in the hope that one day you'd deign to
wander into class and actually participate." Muse tapped the desk two seats in
front of Kankri's, and his panic only intensified. "Your desk is right up here.
Kindly relocate your belongings."
He did not want to sit anywhere near Ampora—not at all. Even though they were
in a classroom setting and he knew Muse would have no compunction with putting
Ampora in his place and Ampora probably didn't even know he existed, it still
made him nervous. He didn't want to deal with it.
He heard Ampora's feet shuffling toward the desk Muse had indicated and, almost
against his will, Kankri looked up at Ampora. It was the closest they'd ever
been, and he held his breath, unable to look away.
He looked like a regular eighteen-year-old greaser—dark, slicked-back hair,
black leather jacket, jeans, blue T-shirt—but at the same time, he didn't look
like a regular eighteen-year-old greaser at all. Greasers weren't supposed to
look like that, with bizarrely good looks and wearing T-shirts that made their
bright blue eyes seem bluer and more intense. No, it just wasn't fair. Kankri's
heart rate picked up as Cronus passed by and for the split second their eyes
locked, Kankri could practically see the question mark forming above the
greaser's head, and then Cronus was sliding into his seat and Muse went back
behind her podium.
"At least today, everyone is present," she said calmly. She wrote something
quickly and then went to the bookshelf that, two days before, had held thirty
textbooks. Now it just had one, the one apparently reserved for Cronus. She
picked up the book, stopped in front of Cronus's desk, and deliberately dropped
it with a loud bang.
The whole class jumped, but several people giggled behind their hands. Cronus
simply tilted his head to the side as though the whole thing hadn't fazed him
in the slightest—and maybe it hadn't.
"Your textbook, Mr. Ampora," Miss Muse said.
Kankri supposed it was a good thing that, if Cronus had to be in his class, at
least the senior would be sitting in front of him instead of beside or behind
him. Logically, he knew he didn't really have a reason to suspect that Cronus
or any of his greaser friends would target him, but he didn't really care.
Greasers made him nervous. They'd been cruel at his old school and while he
hadn't actually seen them taunting anyone, just heard stories, he refused to
believe these ones in Ohio were any better.
He only half-paid attention to the rest of class, coming back for a few moments
when Muse got up in Cronus's face to make a point before he drifted back out.
He figured Debate class would be the perfect time for him to work on his
campaign speech, although it would take more than a rousing oration to earn the
confidence of his peers. He'd have to try to branch out and become friends with
other people to gain votes, and nominations hadn't even been opened yet. Still,
it didn't hurt to start early, right? Especially since the other potential
nominees had known each other far longer than he did.
The second the bell rang for the end of class, though, Kankri was up and out of
there. His last class of the day was World History, and he knew better than to
incur the wrath of Mr. Slick. The guy could be outright terrifying when he
wanted to be.
===============================================================================
"Come on, Aranea, don't clam up on me. What's eatin' your gills?"
Aranea knew she was being deliberately petulant, but she didn't know why.
Actually, she did know why—it was because of that outrageous dick Cronus
Ampora. But she didn't know why she was reacting so violently to this whole
situation. So she just sat in the passenger's seat with her arms crossed,
silently waiting for Vriska and Meenah's sister Feferi to appear so Meenah
could drive them all home.
When she didn't answer, Meenah sighed. "Is this aboat Cronus?"
Aranea couldn't keep from shooting a sullen glare at her.
"Thought so. I know you got a big venetta against him since he tossed you back,
but he ain't a bad fish. He's just—"
"He's an asshole!" Aranea snapped. "And for the record, I broke up with him.
Because he's an asshole!"
Meenah sighed and removed her glasses. For a few moments, she held them up to
the light, wiped them off on her shirt, and checked them again. Finally, she
slid them back on. "Okay, let's say you're right and Cro is an asshole."
"He is."
"Fine. He is. But I can handle assholes," she said calmly. Aranea automatically
sat up—Meenah only spoke this seriously when she meant business. "This is our
fourth year here, remember? We been swimmin' in the sea of assholes since we
got here. And, yeah, Cro Ampora is a douche, but you reelly ain't gonna get a
hotter buoy around here except maybe Rufioh, but I ain't about to tangle with
that dirt-poor son of a beach. And at least I'm not goin' after one of the
Makaras—both of them are total messes."
"Are you really going to go out with him after the pep rally, though?" Aranea
asked, practically whining.
"Probubbly. I can't think of a good reason knot to. Besides, it's a
bubble—sorry, double—date with Damara and Rufioh. He ain't about to hurt me."
Aranea wanted to protest further but she couldn't figure out how. Even when she
tried to justify it to herself, it ended up sounding strange and wrong in her
head. The fact was, she and Meenah had been friends for ten years. She wasn't
necessarily worried that Cronus would hurt Meenah physically, but
emotionally... No matter how cool and distant Meenah liked to pretend she was,
Aranea knew that Cronus had the capacity to emotionally destroy her.
Not only that, though, was the shudder-inducing thought of someone as great as
Meenah with someone as slimy as Cronus. He didn't deserve someone as amazing as
Meenah. After all, anyone who'd fucked Porrim Maryam really had some shitty
standards.
That still ruled out eighty percent of the sophomore through senior boys at the
school, but Aranea was just glad that their little fling had happened before
Cronus fucked Porrim. Actually, no matter how much she hated him, Aranea would
always harbor a small amount of secret pleasure over being Cronus's first.
Aranea straightened her dress and leaned her head against the car. The mood was
still strained, which she mostly blamed herself for, but she didn't know how to
diffuse it—not her, know-it-all Aranea Serket, who always knew what to say—so
she stayed quiet.
"Are you shore there's not somethin' else about this you're not shellin' me
aboat this?" Meenah asked.
Aranea smiled to herself, still looking out the window. She'd never tell
Meenah, of course, but she actually really liked her lame nautical puns. Aside
from Feferi (who she suspected had picked up the habit from her older sister
and didn't use them with anywhere near the same nigh-compulsion as Meenah
unless she was flustered), she hadn't met anyone who talked like her. "Yeah,
I'm shore," Aranea replied. It always made Meenah smile whenever someone else
used her puns around her.
She caught sight of Vriska strolling out of the building and tugging on her
Fuchsia Ladies jacket. It looked odd with her jeans and black button-down
shirt, but Vriska was the epitome of "I don't give a fuck." She wore whatever
she wanted, however she wanted. Aranea was pretty sure that Vriska's jeans had
come from the boys' section of Sears, but no one would ever talk shit about it
to her face. It was one of the reasons why Vriska was in the Fuchsia ladies in
the first place—she had the capacity to reduce anyone to tears with just a few
barbed words. Aranea was very proud of her.
"Hey, girls," Vriska said cheerfully, sliding into the backseat behind Aranea.
Then she somehow sensed the atmosphere and looked from Aranea to Meenah and
back. "What'd I miss?"
"Nofin important," Meenah said. "Just a bit of buoy trouble."
"Lame. Boys are weak."
"Oh, is that why you're not dating anyone?" Aranea teased lightly.
"Please—when you have as many irons in the fire as I do, there's no time for
boys."
"What irons—"
"All of the irons. All of them."
Feferi finally appeared a few minutes later, accompanied once again by Cronus
Ampora's sullen doppelganger Eridan. Aranea didn't understand what the appeal
was for either of the Ampora boys—at least now that she'd seen what an annoying
prick Cronus was, and she assumed Eridan was the same way—but for some reason,
the Peixes girls were all over them. Feferi waved a giddy goodbye to Eridan as
Meenah pulled out of the parking lot, and the farther away they got from where
Aranea knew there were Amporas, the more she relaxed until she found herself
laughing at something Vriska was saying.
Still, she'd have to figure out some way to convince Meenah not to go out with
Cronus before Friday—and considering Wednesday was almost over, she had to work
fast.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Dinner had just finished at the Vantas house when there came a rapid knocking
on the door. Kankri's mother looked up from her sink full of dishes and peered
out the front window. "Who could that be?" she murmured. She wiped her hands
off on the dish towel and went to the door.
Kankri was a half a step behind her, so when his mother opened the door, he
recognized Porrim immediately, but it was Porrim as he'd never seen her before.
Her skirt was long, past her knees, and her sweater was buttoned all the way
up. Her hair was pulled back in a modest ponytail, and she smiled politely.
"Good evening, Mrs. Vantas!"
His mother looked confused. "Porrim, correct? Porrim Maryam?"
"Yes, ma'am, that's me," Porrim said. "I hope I'm not interrupting dinner. I'm
here to pick up Kankri and Karkat."
Kankri never swore aloud, but in his thoughts, he had quite a foul mouth. At
that exact moment, he mentally let loose a string that would have had a sailor
blushing. She'd mentioned driving them to the pep rally tonight, but he hadn't
thought she was serious. He hadn't even mentioned the pep rally to his
parents—he was convinced they would say no.
"Pick them up? For what?"
"Kankri didn't tell you?" Porrim asked, raising her eyebrows. "There's a school
pep rally tonight! I borrowed my mother's car and I told Kankri I'd drive him
and Karkat. Can he go?"
Before his mother had a chance to respond, his father finally set down his
newspaper and came to the door to see what was the matter as well. "What's
going on? Miss Maryam, it's a pleasure to see you. How's your mother?"
"Just fine, Reverend," Porrim said with the most demure smile Kankri had ever
seen. "I was just explaining to Mrs. Vantas that there's a school pep rally
tonight. I thought Kankri would have told you about it. Everyone's going to be
there, and Kankri told me that he really wanted to start branching out and
making friends. Would it be alright if he and Karkat went?"
Mr. Vantas rubbed his chin for a moment. "What time does the pep rally end?"
"Around nine-thirty or ten, but I have my sister and one of her friends in the
car also so if we were hungry after, we were going to get some pizza."
"And what time might I expect my sons back?"
"No later than eleven," Porrim promised.
Kankri's parents exchanged glances and for a few long moments, he was sure his
father was going to say no. But then he surprised Kankri by saying, "I suppose
it would be alright. You do have your homework for the weekend done, correct?"
This, he directed at Kankri.
He nodded quickly. "Yes, Father."
"Hmm. Karkat?" he called down the hallway toward Karkat's room.
He didn't even bother coming out of his room. He simply shouted back from
behind the door, "Yeah, Dad?"
"Porrim Maryam is here to pick up you and your brother for the pep rally this
evening."
The door to Karkat's room finally creaked open and he stuck his head out.
"Wait, really?"
"Yes, really. Were you planning to go?"
"Uh. Well, I kinda wanted to, but I didn't think you'd let me."
Mr. Vantas raised a curious eyebrow. "As long as you keep yourselves out of
trouble, I have no objections."
"I'll make sure they behave!" Porrim said brightly. "Come on, guys! We're going
to be late!" As soon as Karkat came to the door as well, she grabbed both him
and Kankri by the sleeves and pulled them to the car that was idling at the
curb. "Back seat," she instructed. "My sister and her friend are in the front
with me."
Kankri slammed his door seconds before Porrim pulled away from the curb and
took off for the school. Once they were out of view of his house, he let out a
relieved breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I didn't actually
expect that you would come by to retrieve us. I assumed our discussions were
more of the idle variety, and while I appreciate the brief reprieve from what
was sure to have been a dull Friday evening, not that spending the evening in
the company of one's parents should be construed as inherently boring, I would
have—"
"He's a chatty one, isn't he?" said the dark-haired girl squished in the middle
between Porrim and the blonde in the passenger's seat. She half-twisted in the
seat and flashed him a grin. "I'm Kanaya, Porrim's sister. This is Rose
Lalonde."
"Kankri Vantas. This is my brother Karkat. It's nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine."
Porrim turned on the radio to prevent any more chatter, and for a few minutes,
the only sound was Guy Mitchell's singing. It was pretty nice, actually, and
Kankri sank back into the seat. He wrapped his arms around himself and pulled
his arms out of his sleeves. His red sweater had been washed since Monday and
he wore it now, and he was grateful for it because despite it being early
September, the days were already starting to turn cool. Wasn't it only a few
days ago he was nearly sweating through his clothing? How had four days changed
that? The weather in Ohio was weird.
Porrim pulled into a parking space and tugged the rubber band out of her hair.
"Jesus," she muttered, shaking out her hair. "I hate doing that." She began
unbuttoning her sweater and tugged it off, revealing the jade-green shirt she
wore beneath it, and tossed it into the back seat. "Had to make a good
impression on your parents," she explained with a grin at Kankri's half-
confused, half-shocked look. She half-stood up (as well as she could with the
steering wheel in the way) and unzipped the side of her skirt. With two shakes
of her hips, she pulled it off as well. Underneath the skirt, she wore a pair
of black capri pants that Kankri suspected were just barely short enough to
hide under it. She tossed the skirt into the back seat as well before switching
out her socks and saddle shoes for a pair of jade-green flats that Kanaya
handed her from where they were hidden at Rose's feet. "Thank you, dear," she
said lightly, ruffling her sister's hair. "Makeup bag, please."
Kanaya popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a small leather bag.
For a few minutes, Porrim seemed completely oblivious to her audience as she
carefully applied rouge, lipstick, eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, but by
the time she finished, she'd been transformed from a pretty girl to a total
knockout. She caught Kankri's eye in the rearview mirror and grinned. "I'm
guessing you didn't hang out with a lot of girls at your old school, huh?"
Kankri shook his head. He knew that females generally wore makeup, but he'd
never seen the process. His own mother generally only wore lipstick and a
little mascara, but he hadn't even watched her apply that much. It was actually
incredibly fascinating.
"Well, that's about to change. Come on—they're about to light the bonfire."
===============================================================================
The last thing she wanted to do was go to this stupid pep rally. It was all her
sister's idea, really—the boy she had a crush on was going to be there and she
was somehow convinced he was going to ask her out. Aradia secretly doubted it,
but she allowed Damara to fuss over her hair ("No sister of mine is going to be
seen with her hair a mess") and pick out something for her to wear. She didn't
exactly know why her sister was bringing her along anyway, but she would just
go with it. There was a plan somewhere, even if she hadn't been clued into it
yet.
"Come on!" Damara said suddenly, pulling away from where she'd been watching
out the window. "Meenah's here!" She fluffed her hair and went to the front
door, yelling behind her, "We'll be back later, Mom!" Without waiting for an
answer, she sprinted out, leaving Aradia hopping as she slid her left shoe on.
"Bye! Love you!" she called, hurrying out and slamming the door behind her.
She slowed as she neared the curb, staring into Meenah Peixes's car. It already
looked packed—that was Meenah's sister Feferi in the back, and Aranea Serket
scooting over in the front seat to allow Damara to slide in next to her. Vriska
Serket was in the middle seat in the back, leaving the far-right back seat open
for Aradia.
She absolutely hated Vriska. The younger Serket was five feet, six inches of
concentrated bitchiness. For all of Aradia's freshman year, she'd gotten away
with being by turns fake-friendly and genuinely hateful to her. Vriska, for
whatever reason, just loved to antagonize her, and though Aradia tried to
ignore it, she wanted less than anything to be squashed in Meenah Peixes's tiny
car right next to her. How their older sisters were so close was beyond her.
Damara stuck her head out of the window. "Aradia, what the hell are you doing?
Get in! We're gonna miss the best part!"
She sighed and reluctantly slid into the car next to Vriska. She was starting
to hate this whole night even more than before.
Fortunately, everyone seemed to be focused on something else. Aradia listened
in as Aranea continued the conversation she was having with Meenah about some
guy or another, saying he was "no good" for her and that he was an ass, but
Meenah was clearly having none of it.
"Lemme break it down for you, Aranea. I don't care. I'm going on one little
date with him, not marrying the buoy. And until you can come up with a betta
reason than just 'he's a jerk,' clam the fuck up."
The elder Serket exhaled sharply through her nose and crossed her arms over her
chest but didn't say anything in response.
Wow, harsh, Aradia said to herself. She didn't particularly like Aranea,
either, but at least she wasn't at Vriska's level of outright putridity. She
wasn't stupid enough to share her opinion on Meenah's comment, either—the last
thing she wanted was a verbal skewering.
The rest of the ride to Lakeside High School was icy and silent. Aradia wished
Feferi or Damara would say something to break the tense silence that had
settled in the car, but they were probably hoping that someone else would say
something. Hell, she would have settled for Damara gushing about Rufuss or
whatever his name was if it would lighten the air.
Aradia felt guilty for feeling relieved that these girls were not her regular
friends. She wouldn't fit in with the Fuchsia ladies no matter how hard she
tried, and she didn't want to. Damara had tried to get her to hang out with
them last year and she'd given it a shot, but Meenah, Aranea, and especially
Vriska were a bit too bitchy for her. Feferi seemed genuinely nice, but she
also wasn't a member of the Fuchsia Ladies, so that might have explained
things. Aside from her sister, the only one in the group Aradia actually liked
was Roxy, and she was nowhere to be found tonight.
They finally pulled into the school parking lot. Aradia was out of the car the
moment Meenah parked—the atmosphere inside it was stifling. Apparently everyone
else felt the same way because Meenah, Damara, and Feferi all threw open their
doors immediately and piled out, leaving Aranea sliding out on Damara's side
and Vriska following Feferi.
"Jesus," Aradia muttered. She couldn't see the bonfire from here, but she could
smell the wood burning, tinging the air with the crisp, sharp scent of smoke
and burning. She was sorry to have missed the part where Coach Deuce lit the
bonfire, but she loved the smell. It filled her lungs and she found herself
wandering toward it unconsciously.
"Thank cod that's over with," Feferi whispered.
Aradia jumped so high she nearly landed on the roof. She hadn't realized Feferi
was next to her. She looked back and saw that the other four were sliding their
fuchsia jackets on and still hovering by Meenah's car but not really saying
anything by the looks of it. "What's going on with them? Why are Meenah and
Aranea fighting?"
Feferi sighed, bunching her skirt in her hands. It went just a few inches past
her knees and looked to be the same fuchsia color as their sisters' jackets,
but it was trimmed in aqua and a light blue-green color. "Meenah's probubbly
going on a date tonight with that complete cock Cronus Ampora. Aranea is
understandably disgusted and is trying to convince her not to do it, but..."
She shook her head. "Meenah likes to do whatever she's been told knot to do. I
don't like the buoy either, but I also know betta than to try to tell her what
to do. I'm just grateful that Cronus's brother Eridan isn't as bad as him."
"Ah. Yeah, Damara's probably going on a date tonight, too. Well, so she says."
"With Rufioh Nitram, right?"
"Um, yeah, I think that's it."
"From what I heard, it was basically a done deal. He really is going to ask her
out. The two of them and Meenah and Cronus are going on a date."
"Oh." Aradia looked back at the car. "So what's going to happen with the rest
of us? Cronus has his own car, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, I think so. I think Meenah's going to give her keys to Aranea and have
her drive us home tonight even though she's all kinds of mad at her. Vriska
doesn't know how to drive yet, and neither do I. So Meenah and Damara are going
to go with Rufioh and Cronus in Cronus's car and leave the rest of us to
essentially fend for ourselves."
The bonfire swung into sight, a cacophony of noise and voices rising into the
air with the smoke. The Lakeside High School Marching Band was getting into
place around the fire and warming up while, further away, a group of
cheerleaders ran through their part. "Part of me wonders what I'm doing here.
I'm not on any of the sports teams," she murmured, mostly to herself.
"'If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter,'" Feferi joked,
mimicking Principal Quentin's comment during announcements that morning. It had
gotten quite a few stifled giggles then, too. "I just happen to be the former,
not the latter."
"Oh, right, you're on the swim team."
"Yep!" Feferi looked ahead, narrowing her eyes, and suddenly pointed. "Hey,
look, isn't that the Captors over there?"
"Huh?" Aradia followed where Feferi was pointing and saw the blond twins with
their backs to them. It could only be them—the Captor twins didn't dress
identically, but they dressed similarly enough mostly to make it confusing.
"Yeah, I think you're right. Do you know them?"
Feferi shrugged. "I know Sollux a little. He's not so bad. Mituna was in one of
my classes last year and he was... he was very energetic. They're both reelly
nice, though! Come on, I'll introduce you!" She grabbed Aradia's hand and
pulled her along, and Aradia secretly thought that nothing could be worse than
hovering next to Vriska all night, so she gratefully followed along.
***** Chapter 12 *****
"What the hell?" Cronus muttered, staring at Rufioh's house. "I fuckin' told
him when we were gonna be here."
"Maybe they lost track a' time or somethin'," Eridan pointed out from the back
seat. "Go knock on the door an' let 'em know you're here."
"An' have eleven hundred dogs jumpin' on me? Fuck, no. I'll pass."
Before Eridan could reply, though, the front door flew open and Tavros and
Rufioh came out. Rufioh turned his head and shouted something inside before
hurrying down the front walk, but Tavros was already getting into the back next
to Eridan.
"Shit, took you long enough," Cronus said once Rufioh opened the front
passenger door.
"Sorry," Rufioh mumbled. He slouched into the seat, rubbing at his left
eyebrow.
"Kurloz is probably already gonna be there," Cronus added. He pulled away from
the curb and started off toward the school again. Part of him couldn't believe
he was willingly returning to school on a Friday night for non-academic
purposes, but it was where he and Rufioh were meeting Meenah and Damara, so
he'd tolerate it.
The car ride was tense and awkward, and Cronus became dimly aware that Rufioh
hadn't looked at him once—in fact, his hand had never dropped from the left
side of his face. Cronus couldn't see his face at all and he wanted to figure
out what was wrong—something had to be wrong—but he didn't want to make a big
thing of it with Eridan and Tavros in the car. He kept glancing toward Rufioh
but decided he wasn't going to say anything about it until their brothers were
off doing their own thing.
Fortunately, the moment Cronus parked next to Kurloz's boatlike Mainline,
Eridan was off, heading toward Feferi and Damara's younger sister Aradia.
Tavros stayed behind, but that was okay. Cronus got the impression that he
didn't have many friends.
"What's goin' on?" Cronus started, tugging at Rufioh's wrist, but what exactly
the problem was became apparent the second Rufioh's hand dropped from his face.
"Got a steak?" Rufioh half-joked. He had a black eye and his lip was split, but
he at least attempted to smile.
"What the hell—did your dad—?"
"It's not a big deal," Rufioh said quietly. "He's done worse."
"Yeah, but what happened?"
Rufioh only glanced at Tavros for a split second before repeating, "It's not a
big deal," but it was enough for Cronus to figure it out. Something had
happened with Tavros and their father, and Rufioh had stepped in to bear the
brunt of it. Tavros appeared shaken but physically unharmed, his hands in his
lap, but suddenly, he threw open the car door, got out, and headed off toward
the bonfire.
"Where's he—?" Cronus started to get out of the car, but Rufioh put his hand on
his arm to stop him.
"Let him. He needs some space."
Cronus settled back into the seat.
"He's takin' Home Economics," Rufioh said abruptly.
"Huh?"
"Tav. That's why my dad was so pissed. He doesn't want one a' his sons takin' a
class for girls or whatever, y'know? But... hell, our place is a fuckin' mess.
It wouldn't hurt if at least one of us knew how to, like cook or somethin',
y'know? So I tell my dad that just denyin' that Mom's dead isn't gonna bring
her back an' I guess that was mistake since he's already fuckin' pissed-off an'
so he just hauls off an' punches me a couple times an' then he wore himself out
an' went back into the livin' room an' started drinkin' again, an' Tav got me
all cleaned up so it's good now. I'm fuckin' fine. I'm great."
"That's a lie if I ever heard one."
"Yeah, but if I say it enough, I'll believe it eventually."
They sat in silence for a moment until there was the staccato rapping of
knuckles on the window. Cronus popped open the door, his demeanor changing
smoothly from concerned to exuberant, and jumped on Kurloz. "Hey, chief, what's
happenin'?"
"We got a righteous bonfire, our merry motherfucking band of minstrels, and two
thousand motherfuckers who can't be wrong," Kurloz said. He drained his half-
full bottle of beer and flung it as far as he could, laughing when it shattered
on the pavement a hundred feet away. "I'm ready to up and motherfucking rumble,
man."
Cronus had no idea what Kurloz was on tonight—maybe this was his natural state
and it had just been so long that he'd forgotten what it was like—but he was
definitely in one of his moods. It was a little unnerving, but he'd seen it
before. "Don't worry, chief. If anyone tries to start shit, we'll take 'em the
fuck down."
Kurloz gave a satisfied nod, hopped up on the hood of his car, and lit a
cigarette. "Most motherfucking excellent."
Cronus turned to look around for Gamzee—he and Kurloz were like Tweedledum and
Tweedledumber, you seldom saw one without the other—and caught sight of him
heading toward the bonfire. "Gamz!" he called, but the junior either didn't
hear him or pretended he didn't because he kept right on walking, stuffing his
empty hands into the pockets of his jacket and his hair a tangled mess
silhouetted in the light from the bonfire.
Not for the first time, it occurred to him that their name, The Lost Boys, was
incredibly appropriate. The three of them—Rufioh and Kurloz and Gamzee—were all
lost. Rufioh had been lost for years, forced to grow up too fast to take care
of Tavros and keep him from experiencing the same thing. Kurloz and Gamzee were
lost, too, either because of the drugs or something else and using the drugs to
numb it. Was Cronus the only one who wasn't lost? Or was he just as lost and
simply didn't realize it?
He glanced between Kurloz, exhaling a stream of smoke, and Rufioh, putting a
cigarette in his own mouth and striking a match, to see if either of them had
noticed his odd brush with poignancy, but they both appeared to have missed it.
That was fine with him, though. He was a little terrified of getting too
existential for his own good. It was rough all over—even for him.
He briefly considered fishing out a bottle of beer from the back seat of
Kurloz's car but decided against it. If he got drunk tonight, it might make the
whole night stranger. He felt something cosmic, something radiating from the
stars, and maybe that was what affected Kurloz, causing him to switch up
whatever drug cocktail he was on and change his personality so completely.
"So, Kurly," Cronus said, employing the nickname he only used when he was being
deliberately casual, "gonna have to ask you for a favor."
Kurloz fixed him with a surprisingly sharp look; he must have recognized the
tone. "Like what?"
"Well, y'know, me an' Rufi here are meetin' up with Meenah an' Damara an' we're
goin' on a double date type a' thing—actually, Rufi, you still feel like goin',
or...?" Cronus motioned to his eye to indicate what might prompt Rufioh to back
out, but the shorter boy shook his head.
"I'm still fine with goin' if you are."
"Right." Cronus grinned. "If anythin', you got the pity angle workin' in your
favor now."
Rufioh glowered at the pavement. "I don't want pity."
"Well, anyway. So, Kurly, I'm gonna be drivin', only there won't be enough room
to squish the four of us an' Eridan an' Tav in there as well, not that I want
my fuckin' little brother comin' along anyway an' I'm pretty sure Rufi feels
the same. So, basically, what I'm askin' is, can you drive Eridan an' Tav back
home tonight?"
Kurloz rolled his eyes. "Of motherfucking course, man. I got your motherfucking
back."
Cronus grinned and nudged him playfully. "Thought so, chief. Thanks." He was
about to say something else when the sound of female voices drifted over and he
turned to locate the source. On their way over were none other than Meenah and
Damara themselves, looking purposefully cool. It was probably an act—well,
Damara's deliberate aloofness was probably feigned because ever since Monday,
she'd talked about Rufioh nearly nonstop, but Meenah's might not have been—but
he wouldn't fault them for it anyway. After all, it was best not to look too
excited, or else there might be way too much pressure.
Cronus had it all planned out—dinner at the Freeze King (he'd already accepted
the fact that, even though Meenah's family had even more cash than his and
neither Rufioh nor Damara had any money at all, he'd end up covering the whole
check himself) and then, later, if everyone was cool with it, a movie at the
drive-in theater just outside of town. It would all be very low-key, very
relaxed, not too much pressure. Rufioh and Damara, he wasn't too concerned
about. She obviously liked him a lot and he was sure once Rufioh was actually
on a date with her, he'd warm up to her—Cronus hadn't missed the way he looked
nervous whenever she was around. Meenah, on the other hand, wasn't completely
sold on the idea of going steady with him. Which was fine, really, since
neither was he, but he had few enough reservations about it to make the evening
worthwhile.
"Whale, the night's barely begun an' already, it's a massive drag," Meenah
drawled. She had a cigarette of her own dangling from her fingertips and she
brought it up to her fuchsia-painted lips, sucked in a breath, and exhaled it
right into Cronus's face. "What about you, angelfish?"
Cronus chuckled. "I dunno that I'd consider myself an angelfish, but..." He was
distracted after a moment by Kurloz doubled over, making gagging motions. "Hey,
fuck off," he snapped, and Kurloz started laughing.
Then Cronus glanced at Damara, who was staring at Rufioh with her eyes wide.
Before Cronus could draw his attention to it, she started forward with a
squeak, her hands outstretched toward his face. "Rufioh, what happened?"
Rufioh blinked and, for a second, Cronus thought he'd forgotten how to talk.
Then he mumbled, "It's nothin', doll. I'm fine."
"But..." She cupped his face, and it suddenly struck Cronus as odd how tall she
was. She and Rufioh were the same height, just under six feet tall. "But your
eye and your lip are all—"
"I know. It's nothin', doll, really." Rufioh offered her a small smile even
though the still-healing cut in his lip split open in the process.
Damara let out a soft "aw" sound and, taking them all by surprise, pulled
Rufioh's face to hers and pressed her lips to his.
His eyes widened in shock and his hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. He
awkwardly caught Cronus's eye, who gave him a pointed look and mimed putting
his arms around an imaginary girl. Rufioh seemed to catch his drift because he
closed his eyes and lightly rested his hands on Damara's hips.
After a few more awkward moments, Damara pulled back, and Cronus was pretty
sure he saw a thin trail of blood on her lips from Rufioh's. She smiled
nervously although her hands never left his shoulders. "Sorry if that was bad
or something. I just... well, impulse." She let out a high giggle, her blush
evident even in the dark.
"No, no, doll, it wasn't bad," Rufioh assured her quickly. "It's just... heh, I
guess that was my first kiss."
Whoa! Cronus never knew that Rufioh hadn't even been kissed before. Apparently,
they had a lot of work ahead of them—although Damara seemed more than willing
to assist on that front. They still needed to work on Rufioh's confidence,
though. He had the whole package, after all—he just needed to learn how to
handle it all. "No big deal," Cronus said. "So did you girls wanna hang out
here a little while longer or just clear outta here? Freeze King's on me," he
added with a grin toward Meenah.
"I think we could stay a little longer," Meenah said with a shrug. "But if
Aranea starts headin' over here, let's just go—I'm in no mood to deal with any
a' her shit tonight."
"She still doesn't like me, does she?" Cronus asked lazily, as though he didn't
already know.
"They were fighting about it the whole way over here," Damara added.
"Knot the whole way. Just a bit at the befinning. Surprisingly, she doesn't
seem to have a problem with you, Rufi."
"I'd fuckin' hope not," Cronus said. "They never dated, after all." He turned
to seek Kurloz's backup on this point, but Kurloz had left, too. Another few
seconds of scanning the parking lot later, he located the elder Makara heading
off to terrorize some cheerleaders. He hadn't seen Porrim with them—maybe she'd
dropped from the squad. "Too bad they already lit the bonfire, though," he
added. "That woulda been quite the show."
"Oh, yeah, they nearly burned the school down last year," Damara laughed. "I
was hoping we'd get closer this year."
"Yeah, but that's what arson is for," Cronus joked.
The bonfire was the only real reason anyone went to the pep rallies anyway. For
the most part, only jocks and cheerleaders cared about anything any of the
coaches had to say regarding athletics because they were the only ones who
bought into that crap. Cronus certainly never did—his true skill lie in music.
He played guitar, bass, drums, piano, violin, accordion, and saxophone,
although most people generally only found out about the first three, sometimes
piano as well. Either way, though, he'd never been interested in breaking a
sweat for anything that wasn't strictly necessary—although in his experience,
sex fell firmly in the category of "warranted expenditure of energy."
"There probably isn't anything else goin' on there anymore. Nothin' cool,
anyway," Rufioh pointed out. "Maybe we should just go."
"Yeah, actually, I'm a little hungry," Damara agreed. She finally slid her hand
down Rufioh's shoulder and to his hand. Maybe she thought she was being subtle,
but she wasn't. Rufioh wrapped his fingers around hers.
Cronus already had a feeling he knew how Damara's flirting with Rufioh would
end. She would eventually comment on being cold and he'd offer her his jacket
and she'd giddily accept and the next thing anyone knew, she would be wearing
it instead of her Fuchsia Ladies jacket and Rufioh would be out of a twenty-
dollar leather jacket. That was no joke when it was essentially his only cold-
weather-friendly jacket and he didn't have the cash to buy a new one.
Meenah rolled her eyes. She was clearly thinking something similar, although,
like Cronus, she wouldn't actually say anything about it. "Fine. Let me finish
my cigarette an' tell Feferi we're leavin'." She pulled out her car keys.
"Who's gonna be drivin' your sisters home?" Cronus asked, looking from her to
Damara.
"Oh, probubbly Aranea. I still trust her with my car over that fuckin' lush
Roxy," Meenah said. "Besides, I don't even think Roxy's comin'." She finished
off the last of her cigarette, flicked the butt away, and tugged lightly on
Cronus's jacket. "Come on, let's go find Feferi an' Aradia."
***** Chapter 13 *****
"Hey, guys! What are you up to?"
Sollux jumped in surprise, but Mituna didn't even appear fazed. He turned
around and said, "Looking at the fire, duh." His voice was laden with sarcasm,
but Sollux knew he was grinning that insane Mituna grin he almost always wore
(unless Cronus Ampora was shoving him into the closest empty locker, but that
was beside the point), his braces catching sharply on the orange light from the
bonfire. That grin meant everything was normal, everything was alright, he was
just clowning around.
Fortunately, Feferi Peixes (because that was who had addressed them) wasn't
bothered by Mituna's rather rude-seeming response. She just smiled back and
nodded. "It's great, isn't it?"
Sollux remained quiet while the two of them—Mituna and Feferi—struck up an easy
conversation. It was one of the things he envied about his brother. Physically,
they were identical, but to those who knew them (and they were few), they were
wildly different. Somehow, Mituna was able to get along with almost everyone
with a bare minimum of effort, but Sollux found himself pushed aside and looked
over. It didn't help that he kept his eyes down to avoid notice.
He didn't know how Mituna did it. Even with all the bullshit he put up with
(Cronus Ampora's harassment over his lisp and braces, both traits he shared
with Sollux, among other things), he still felt comfortable talking to other
people. Sollux couldn't do it.
After a few moments, he became aware of another person next to Feferi. She'd
remained quiet, but she didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as Sollux felt. He
knew Feferi from a class they'd had together the year before, but he didn't
recall ever seeing the other girl, though.
She looked at him and smiled, and he smiled nervously back before looking away
immediately. He wished they could just go home already. Neither of them was
even remotely interested in sports or even following the school's athletic
program. Mituna had come just to mingle with people and of course he'd had to
drag Sollux along with him.
He contemplated shuffling away, but there were people everywhere and he didn't
think he could get the solitude he needed. Besides, he would want to drag
Mituna away with him, and he and Feferi looked deeply absorbed in their
conversation.
"Are you okay?"
The other girl's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked quickly up. "Yeah.
I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You look a little... freaked out." She looked genuinely
concerned even as she gathered up the material of her skirt in her hands and
bunched it up. Maybe she was nervous, too.
"I... don't really like being here when I don't have to be," Sollux explained,
carefully not using any words with an S in it. Mituna had the ability to
completely disregard his lisp, but Sollux didn't. It didn't help that he
couldn't even correctly pronounce his own name. If that wasn't a confidence-
killer, nothing was.
"It's okay. I didn't really want to be here, either," the girl confessed. "It
was my sister's idea."
"Why did you have to come then?"
"Oh, there's this guy she likes and I guess she was supposed to meet him here
and go on a double date with the two of them and Feferi's sister and the guy
she likes—"
Feferi's attention had been drawn by the sound of her name. "She doesn't
exactly like him—my sister Meenah, I mean. She's just giving him a chance, I
think. Actually, I think she thinks he's kind of a dick, which he is, but I
guess like a tolerable dick? I'm not sure. But yeah, the four of them are going
on this double date thing and I don't get it but whatever."
"Right. It's all weird. And I still don't know why I had to be brought along
except in case Damara ends up getting ditched or something."
Sollux nodded slowly. "I think I understand."
The girl grinned. "I'm Aradia, by the way. Aradia Megido."
Shit. There was no way he could get out of introducing himself now. He really
hated saying his own name. "Um. I'm Sollux Captor." He waited for the
inevitable giggle, but it never came.
"Sollux?" she confirmed, pronouncing his name correctly. A lot of people
initially said it "Tholluckth," some before realizing he had a lisp and others
as a way to make fun of him, but she didn't. It relieved him a little.
He nodded, a faint smile twitching at his lips. "Yeah. Like that."
Aradia's smile widened. "Good. It's nice to meet you, Sollux."
===============================================================================
"No one saw you, did they?"
Jake half-smiled and shook his head. "No, no one saw me. Believe it or not, I
can be discreet."
"It's not that," Dirk protested as the junior approached him. Another day,
another deserted bathroom, but at least they had less of a chance of getting
caught here while everyone else was outside, enjoying the pep rally and the
bonfire. The smoke wafted in through a half-open window in the bathroom with
giddy shrieks as people chased each other around, but in the darkness, they
were only illuminated by a single fluorescent light bulb and the little light
from the fire that turned the scrubbed pale blue tiles a strange fiery hue.
"Then what is it? Are you so sure Dave didn't see you?" Jake challenged, his
eyebrow raised.
God, he hoped not. If Dave or Dack found out about this... they wouldn't,
though. Dirk would make absolutely sure they didn't find out. He'd done well
enough so far, although that could change with a little slip. Sometimes, Jake
buried himself so far under his skin that he didn't care if they ever got
caught, but then he would look up at him with those bright green eyes and Dirk
would remember that he didn't want there to come a day when he couldn't look at
those. It reminded him of their need for secrecy. Just a little while longer,
two more short years, and they could leave all this behind them, start over
somewhere else where it was just the two of them and no one knew them. He
couldn't wait.
"He didn't. He was busy with Harley and a few other people."
Jake nodded, his smile faint. Harley was actually his cousin. That was how
they'd met. Sure, in school, they'd seen each other in the hallways in between
classes, but their first truly important face-to-face interaction had happened
at Harley's house while Jake had been over.
That had been the first time Dirk got a good look at him and the first time
Jake ever really looked at him, and there had been that immediate spark of
attraction. Dirk had convinced himself that it was only on him, that Jake
didn't feel it, until he realized he had two classes with Jake and that
suddenly, the other boy kept looking at him as if he was some riddle to be
solved. Dirk tried to pretend he didn't notice it, but one day after class, he
reached the end of his patience with it. He intercepted Jake in the bathroom
and demanded to know what he kept looking at.
"You confuse me, that's all," Jake had said, taking him completely by surprise.
"I confuse you?"
Jake had nodded, lowered his eyes for a moment, and then looked back up.
"Sorry. I didn't think I was looking all that much, honestly. I'll stop,
though, if it makes you that uncomfortable."
It really didn't, though. On a whim, he'd pressed his lips to Jake's in a
quick, soft kiss. He pulled back less than a second later, wondering if he'd
gone insane, but Jake didn't look panicked or horrified or anything that Dirk
expected. Stunned, yes, but he also looked... awed.
"Sorry," he started, but he never finished forming the word because Jake pulled
Dirk back to him and returned the kiss, and it was all downhill from there.
And now they were here, in the second-floor bathroom that would almost
certainly not attract anyone else, not with another bathroom closer to the
bonfire, and Dirk felt like a dick for even suggesting that Jake would be
anything other than careful.
"I wasn't trying to say that someone might have seen you. I just worry. That's
all."
The half-smile returned to Jake's face and he lifted his glasses to rub the
bridge of his nose. "I know what you mean. Clandestine meetings in school
bathrooms don't exactly put my mind at ease, either."
"I wish I could take you out on a regular date," Dirk said. "I don't like this
fake-studying bullshit, either."
"Maybe we could... I don't know, meet at Jade's house and figure something out.
While Jade and Dave are doing their thing, we could leave." Jake shrugged
helplessly. "At least I'm trying to think of something."
"It could work," Dirk conceded.
"Besides, look at us," Jake added. "Who'd honestly suspect what's really going
on? Even if it seems obvious to us, I really think they're all clueless."
Dirk wasn't so sure, but maybe Jake was right. He wished, though, that he could
share Jake's confidence.
===============================================================================
Tavros wrapped his arms around himself and tried to appear as small as
possible, but apparently it wasn't small enough. "Hey, little motherfucker!
Wait up!"
Only a Makara would refer to someone as "little motherfucker," and that wasn't
Kurloz's guttural drawl. It was Gamzee, although that didn't reassure him at
all. He didn't want to talk to anyone, least of all one of his brother's
fucked-up friends. He spun around, dropping his arms, and his hands balled into
fists at his sides. "What?" he snapped.
What could Gamzee Makara conceivably want from him? Wasn't it bad enough that
his father was a violent, angry old drunk who thought both of his sons were
worthless failures? Wasn't it enough salt in the wound when Rufioh took the
blows meant for him? And now this? Why couldn't people just leave him alone?
There was a fire in Tavros's eyes, he knew it, he could feel it burning him
from the inside out, but if the look was a warning, it was lost on Makara. He
continued his approach, seemingly unperturbed by the frustration on Tavros's
face.
"What's going on, motherfucker? Why's Rufioh's motherfucking face look like a
train hit it?"
"Why don't you ask him?" Tavros spat. "He's your friend, isn't he?"
"Well, yeah, brother, but he's got motherfucking Cronus to worry about him."
Gamzee shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. "I've
seen you around. You don't have any motherfucking friends to worry about you."
A bit of anger escaped him. "No, but I'm fine."
"Come on, brother," Gamzee started, but Tavros cut him off with a sharp glare.
"Don't call me that—I'm not your brother." Rufioh was his brother. Rufioh kept
him safe from their old man. Rufioh was his protector. That's what a brother
was—someone who would keep you out of trouble, who would make sure nothing bad
happened to you. Gamzee Makara had no fucking right to refer to Tavros as
"brother."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Gamzee said quietly, looking genuinely sorry. "I just meant
that a motherfucker needs someone to talk to sometimes. I know you got your
motherfucking brother but sometimes you need a motherfucker on the outside,
too."
Tavros crossed his arms back over his chest. "What, and you think I want to
talk to you?" Maybe he was being a bit unfair now—and unnecessarily rude—but it
was nice for once to have someone to lash out at. Besides, Gamzee kept right on
standing there, like Tavros's words didn't hurt him.
"Maybe. If you didn't have someone else, I could motherfucking be there for
you."
Tavros hated that he was right, though. He really didn't have anyone else who
would listen to him. He really didn't have a single friend aside from Rufioh.
The girls at his table in Home Ec were nice enough to him, Rose and Kanaya and
Jane, but they didn't know about his home life. They didn't know about his dad
and his brother and his dead mother and all their bulldogs and all the shit he
had to put up with. Gamzee knew, and he was actually willing to listen.
"Really?" he asked quietly.
Gamzee nodded.
"My old man hit him."
"What the motherfuck for?"
"Because he..." Tavros swallowed. "He kept my dad from hitting me instead. My
dad doesn't want me taking... one of my classes." He wasn't quite ready yet to
tell Gamzee that he was taking a girls' class.
"That was motherfucking brave of him. Rufioh, I mean."
"Yeah, I know." Tavros closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I just wish my
dad had died instead of my mom, you know? Is that bad?"
"Maybe," Gamzee said gently. "But I think it's motherfucking understandable.
Your old man is a mean motherfucker."
"Don't I know it," Tavros murmured. He rubbed his arms again. Gamzee was
looking at him unblinkingly with bright blue eyes that almost looked indigo in
the strange light from the bonfire. "Look, I just want to be alone for a little
while. If I need someone to talk to later, I'll come find you though, okay?"
Gamzee nodded. "Sure thing, motherfucker. You know where I'll be." He smiled
brightly and went back the way he came, back toward Cronus Ampora and his car,
and Tavros scratched the back of his head as he watched him go. He's a weird
guy.
===============================================================================
The four of them piled into Cronus's car as soon as Meenah handed the keys to
her Windsor Deluxe over to Aranea (who glared sharply at Cronus but otherwise
didn't say anything). It didn't bother him, though. He was used to her by now,
and he just waved pleasantly at her with an unlit cigarette between his lips.
In the back, Rufioh and Damara sat close but not too close. Cronus could tell
he was still nervous about this whole situation, especially after Damara kissed
him, but Cronus couldn't figure out why. Rufioh had nothing to worry about. All
he had to do was be himself—Damara liked him no matter what.
She also seemed a bit nervous, though. After impulsively kissing him, she'd
retreated back a bit as though she'd been too forward (maybe she had, but what
did it matter?), but she kept looking back up at Rufioh and blushing. He would
catch her eye and smile nervously and then look away and it was actually making
Cronus a bit nauseous, but they were both dorks. They'd figure it out soon
enough.
Meenah dropped into the passenger's seat next to Cronus. "Whale, Fef wasn't
thrilled, but she don't have another wave to get home besides ridin' with
Aranea, so..." She shrugged. "And I told her to make shore Aradia got home,
too," she added to Damara.
"Huh? Oh. Okay," Damara said. She'd been distracted by Rufioh. Again.
"Eri was a little pissed, too," Cronus said with a grin. "He doesn't like
Kurloz all that much, I guess." He shrugged. "Looks like he's just gonna have
to deal with it. You cats ready to rock an' roll?"
"Shut the fuck up," Meenah said, buckling her seat belt. "Let's just fucking go
already."
Cronus didn't need to be told twice. He put the New Yorker in reverse and
backed out of the parking lot. The Freeze King awaited.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry for that. I just had a
     lot of personal shit happen to me all at once and I needed a week off
     (after the underway) to recover, and I also didn't feel like writing
     anything for awhile. Also this chapter gave me some serious writer's
     block at the beginning, so thank you all for your patience.
     I do not own the lyrics to "Mr. Sandman" by The Chordettes.
Rufioh stayed nervous-seeming through the whole drive to the Freeze King.
Cronus had to resist the urge to sigh—it was just a date, after all, and with a
girl who actually liked him. There was really no cause for him to stress out,
even if it was his first date (he didn't know for sure, but he had a strong
suspicion, anyway).
Thankfully, Meenah was oblivious to the tension and just whined about how
absolutely annoying Aranea had been. Cronus had experienced the annoyance
firsthand last year and therefore didn't need to be reminded, but he listened
anyway.
When they arrived at the Freeze King, Cronus parked and quickly got out,
opening Rufioh's door and swinging around the back to open up Damara's and
Meenah's doors as well. His father had raised a gentleman, after all, although
Cronus rarely showed his chivalrous side.
Damara patiently waited for him to open the door for her (she clearly
remembered that from their brief time dating), but Meenah was already sliding
out on her own by the time he got to her. Flicking at his ear, she said, "If I
waited for boys to open doors for me, I'd never get anywhere."
"Oh." Cronus couldn't think of a witty rejoinder to that and so he simply
closed the car door behind her. He rubbed his ear and the two of them followed
Rufioh and Damara (she clinging to his arm and he smiling nervously) inside the
Freeze King. Cronus would have offered Meenah his arm as well but he had a
feeling she would flick his ear again.
It was a Friday night, so the Freeze King was fairly busy. The jukebox blared
in the corner while someone stood in front of it, leafing through the
selections. There were only a few tables open now; he recognized a few people
from school in a few of the booths, meaning some of them had either not gone to
the pep rally at all (he wouldn't have either if it hadn't been the meeting
place for this awkward double-date) or simply left early like them. Whatever
the reason, the joint was full enough for him to look around and say, "Uh-oh,
looks like you're gonna have to sit on my lap, Meenah."
"I would if there were anyfin there to sit on," she replied sweetly.
Rufioh and Damara blinked in shock, but far from being offended, Cronus just
laughed. He'd known Meenah had a rather sharp sense of humor, and that was fine
with him. It was better than Damara's sense of humor—she was good for an
occasional laugh but altogether made bad jokes that fell flat.
Rufioh pointed at a booth near the back. "Hey, look, that table's still open."
He didn't really want to sit back there—he had a thing about sitting in the
middle of everything—but at least the booth had a good view of the door, so he
let himself be steered toward the back. He got the impression that Rufioh
wanted to have his privacy and, considering he was the one with the black eye
and busted lip, Cronus was willing to give him that.
===============================================================================
The bonfire was fading down to embers and a slight chill stung at the air, but
Porrim didn't seem to notice. She'd hopped up on the hood of her mother's car
and leaned back against the windshield, interlocking her fingers behind her
head and closing her eyes. Kankri chose to stay close to her, sitting on the
ground in front of the car, since Karkat had long since wandered off, as had
Rose and Kanaya (although they were presumably together because they had gone
arm-in-arm).
"You hungry, kid?" Porrim asked, gently nudging the back of his head with her
foot.
A slight gnawing had settled into his stomach, although he wasn't sure if it
was real hunger or just a very infective restlessness. He nodded.
"Then let's go see if we can find the others and get something to eat, yeah?
I'm thinking the Freeze King. What do you say?"
"I've never eaten there."
"No?" She sounded surprised, and when he looked up and back, he saw that she
was leaning forward on the hood. "Don't they have Freeze King in Louisiana? I
thought it was a national chain."
Kankri shook his head. "Maybe not in my area, and before we moved here, the
farthest I ever went from Lafayette was about ten miles. My parents didn't like
to travel much, and Lafayette had everything we needed—school, stores,
church... my grandparents lived a few houses down from us, too. Well, my
father's parents. My mother's parents were... well, I never spoke to them. My
mother says that they didn't want her to marry my father in the first place
since she was Catholic and my father is obviously Pentecostal. My mother ended
up converting and her parents never spoke to her again, but my father's parents
were quite welcoming. And when my grandfather finally stepped down as pastor,
my father took over for him, so that church was in our family for a long time.
I didn't really—oh. I suppose I'm rambling again. I didn't answer your
question, did I?"
"No, you did. And I don't mind the rambling right now. It's actually kind of
interesting because you don't talk about your family when there's other people
around."
"No, I suppose not."
"But to revisit our previous topic of conversation, how long have you been
here? Haven't you eaten at Freeze King since you arrived?"
Kankri shook his head again. "My parents believe in preparing all of our own
food ourselves. I mean, I'm sure they won't mind if we go, but we only have
dinner at home. So, to answer your question, I don't know what they have at
Freeze King, but I believe I would be willing to give it a try."
"Good." She ruffled his hair, hopped up to stand on the hood of the car, and
let out a shrill, piercing whistle. "Go find Karkat—Kanaya and Rose will be
along in a few moments."
"Oh, was that what that was?" Kankri asked with just a hint of sarcasm, rubbing
his ears.
"If you mean my patented little sister duck call, then yes."
Kankri stood up and headed off in the last direction he'd seen Karkat.
Lots of people had already left for the night, the greasers included. That made
Kankri feel slightly more at-ease with wandering around looking for his
brother. A few people were left, including the one boy he'd seen on the first
day of school who'd mistook him for a freshman, and he was standing next to a
girl in a dark-red skirt and talking to her. The boy hardly noticed him, but
the girl did and she gave him a cheerful wave. He returned it and kept walking.
Apparently Porrim's "little sister duck call" had worked, because he saw Kanaya
and Rose heading back to the car. "Have you seen Karkat?" he asked them, but
they both shook their heads.
Fortunately, he ended up finding his younger brother a few minutes later. He
was talking to another girl with red-framed cats-eye glasses and a teal
sweater. They both stopped talking as he approached. "Hey, Karkat, Porrim says
that if you're hungry, we can go to the Freeze King to get something to eat."
"I could eat," Karkat admitted. He looked back at the girl. "Are you going to
be okay?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll probably find Latula in a few minutes and head
home."
"Okay. Yeah, um, if you need me..."
"I know where to find you." She gave him a half-smile. "Thanks."
Kankri got the sense that he'd intruded and felt a little bad, but it couldn't
be helped now. He thought about inviting the girl to come with them, but if
she'd arrived with others, they'd probably wonder where she went, and he also
didn't know how Porrim would feel about another person tagging along. He felt a
little awkward as the girl walked away, crossing her arms, but he pretended he
didn't. "Let's get going—the others are waiting."
"Yeah, fine."
As Kankri suspected, Porrim, Kanaya, and Rose were already in the car by the
time they got back, so he and Karkat hopped into the back without a word.
Porrim turned up the radio on the drive over and the girls sang along to most
of the songs, but neither Kankri nor Karkat had heard any of these songs. Their
father generally kept the radio in the family car tuned to talk or oldies
stations, and all of the songs sounded fairly modern. But for once, it was nice
to ride in a car without his father droning on and on about damnation and doom.
Freeze King looked packed when Porrim pulled into a space next to a dark-
colored New Yorker, but far from seeming bothered, she grinned widely. "Oh,
look, the gang's all here. Come on, we need to get to a table quick!"
Kankri followed her inside with the others tagging along behind them. Rose
spotted a free table and they rushed to stake their claim, falling all over
each other to squish into the booth.
"Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."
Kankri cracked open the menu and realized that he only had fifty cents in his
pocket. I don't think that's going to be enough for both of us, he realized
with a jolt of panic.
"Make him the cutest that I've ever seen..."
"Um, Porrim, I don't have very much money," he stuttered. "I only—"
"Give him two lips, like roses and clover..."
"Don't worry about it, darling," she said brightly. "My mom gave me enough
money for all of us."
"And tell him that his lonesome nights are over..."
"Oh. Well, I should still contribute," Kankri insisted. "I have a little,
see..." He fished around in his pocket and dug out the two quarters.
"Sandman, I'm so alone..."
"It's okay, really, Kankri. I got it. Put away your money."
"Don't have nobody to call my own..."
Kankri didn't think it was right that a girl would be paying for his food, but
he did as she told him and put his money back in his pocket.
"Please turn on your magic beam..."
"So, any ideas what you're going to get?" Porrim asked, addressing the whole
table this time.
"Mister Sandman, bring me a dream."
"I need to peruse the selection before I make my choice," Kanaya said lightly.
Kankri privately agreed—he'd never seen anything like this before.
===============================================================================
"Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."
"Oh, my cod, look who just sat down," Meenah hissed in his ear. Cronus shivered
but grinned, looking to where she indicated. It was Porrim Maryam in a booth
not too far from theirs, sitting next to a girl who was presumably her younger
sister—she had the Maryam look, a regal posture, dark skin, and jade-green
eyes—and another girl, a blond. Facing them were two boys who could have been
brothers. Cronus didn't recognize the one, but the other in the red sweater, he
definitely knew who that was. It was Kankri Vantas, a junior in his debate
class.
"Make him the cutest that I've ever seen..."
"I can't get over that glubbin' sweater, oh, my cod," Meenah went on, giggling.
"Give him the word that I'm not a rover..."
Rufioh and Damara twisted around to see who they were talking about. "Why is
that new guy sitting with those whores?" Damara asked.
"And tell him that his lonesome nights are over."
"Oh, wow," Rufioh laughed, "that seems a little harsh."
"Sandman, I'm so alone..."
"Okay, well, I don't know about those other two girls, but Porrim definitely
is," Damara insisted.
"Don't have nobody to call my own..."
Meenah rolled her eyes. "I don't pike her much, either, but I think callin' her
a ho is kinda extreme."
"Please turn on your magic beam..."
Damara scoffed. "Well, forgive me for wondering why she's sitting with those
random guys."
"Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."
Cronus didn't join in for once. He wasn't quite sure why—that sweater of
Kankri's was more than enough fodder for jokes, but he didn't feel like
commenting on it. It actually rather seemed endearing, even. The junior had a
tendency to talk a lot during class once he got on a roll, and it tended to be
impressive bordering on downright award-worthy.
===============================================================================
"Oh, great," Porrim muttered.
"What?" Kankri asked.
"Mister Sandman (Yes?), bring us a dream..."
"Looks like some of the Lost Boys are here," she said. She leaned back. "I
didn't realize, but I think that was Cronus's car I parked next to."
"Give him a pair of eyes with come-hither gleam..."
Kankri's eyes widened. Porrim barely had time to squeak out, "Wait, don't—"
before he whipped around in his seat and looked. For one dizzy second, his
heart stopped—Cronus Ampora's ice-blue eyes were locked on him.
"Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci..."
"Quit staring," Porrim hissed. "They might come over here!"
"And lots of wavy hair like Liberace..."
Kankri wasn't quite sure why that particular lyric seeped into his
consciousness, but in the split second before he turned back around, his cheeks
heating up, he noticed that Cronus Ampora did have a lot of wavy hair. Despite
the grease holding it back, it still looked soft, and he idly entertained the
thought of running his fingers through it.
"Mister Sandman, someone to hold (someone to hold)..."
"I doubt it," Kanaya said. "They appear to be on a date. And Rufioh Nitram
looks like he's already been in a fight tonight anyway."
"Would be so peachy before we're too old..."
"Nitram?" Rose asked. "Isn't that Tavros's last name? Are they brothers?"
"So please turn on your magic beam..."
"I believe so," Kanaya said. "There seems to be a resemblance between them,
anyway. It's in the hair."
"Mister Sandman, bring us..."
Karkat gave Kankri a strange look that he tried his best to ignore. He knew he
was still blushing for whatever reason (no, it was definitely not because of
how intense Cronus Ampora's gaze was—that was utterly ridiculous, he was
completely normal) but he pretended he wasn't. Cronus Ampora was an asshole,
after all. He was obnoxious in class whenever he did show up, and it created a
disruptive learning environment.
"Please, please, please..."
Porrim also seemed to notice the effect Cronus had on him, because she cleared
her throat and said, "Hey, why don't you just ignore them? They're real jerks,
all of them—Cronus and Rufioh and Meenah and Damara. Don't worry about them.
They—well, okay, maybe not Rufioh, but the rest of them have given me so much
shit since freshman year it's ridiculous. And I thought Cronus was kind of nice
last year, but trust me, he's a total jerk."
"Mister Sandman, bring us a dream."
Kankri nodded. He knew deep down that she was right. Without saying anything,
he began deciding what he was going to eat.
***** Chapter 15 *****
As the bonfire burned down to embers, Harley suggested a movie since her
grandfather thought she was out with Jake (which was partly true, if not
entirely accurate). She happened to suggest it with Dave within earshot and he
immediately started whining about how he wanted to go see a movie, too. Dirk
was really close to telling both of them to fuck off, but then he caught sight
of Jake over their shoulders nodding sharply, his eyes wide, and then his brain
started working. It was a really good idea, actually. Especially since he'd
been so preoccupied with actually taking Jake out on a date—right now, this was
as close as they could get.
"Sure, fine. Let's go see a movie. Jake, you wanna come, too?"
"Smashing!" Jake said, as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I call
shotgun!"
Dave groaned and smacked his forehead. Dirk grinned internally. Harley just
jumped up and down excitedly.
Dave had to abide by the shotgun rules, so when Dirk got into the driver's
seat, it was Jake sliding in next to him. He was able to keep his grin
contained as he drove, but he had to take his sunglasses off as he drove since
it was already dark. He wasn't used to monitoring where he looked because
people couldn't see through his glasses, but now he had to be very careful not
to glance at Jake too much.
Harley probably wouldn't have noticed—she was drooping off in the back but
would most likely wake up once he pulled in—but Dave on the other hand... Well,
Dirk wasn't sure where he was looking, but he had a few ideas.
He tried to ignore that, though. He was heading to a drive-in with his
boyfriend beside him, his brother in the back, and his boyfriend's cousin next
to him. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was better than sneaking kisses in a
school bathroom.
It was a double-feature showing, so Dave jumped out of the car and went right
to the concession stand. Fortunately, Harley went with him, leaving Dirk and
Jake alone.
"Fuck, I thought they'd never leave," Dirk said, sliding his sunglasses back
on.
"They'll be back," Jake pointed out.
Dirk exhaled sharply, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know.
But... at least we're out, right?"
"Right." Jake pressed a reassuring hand atop Dirk's and smiled. "It was a good
idea. We should really thank Jade."
Dirk nearly snorted with laughter. "And how would we do that? 'Hey, Harley,
thanks for suggesting the movie so your cousin and I could pretend to be on a
real date'?"
Jake's smile slipped away. "I wasn't aware we were pretending."
The senior knew immediately he'd fucked up. "That's not... not what I meant."
He gave an exasperated groan. "I just meant that..." He trailed off. He
couldn't quite figure out how to say what he'd actually meant.
"Well?" Jake prompted, half-turning in the seat to face him.
"Well, people... you know how they are. Nothing's official until everyone knows
about it. But they can't know about this. So... where does that leave us?"
"I don't think the inherent publicity or lack thereof of our relationship is
any reason to doubt its validity," Jake said quietly. "As long as we both
accept it for what it is, right?"
Dirk nodded slowly although he wasn't entirely convinced. "I guess so." Around
him were happy boy-girl couples making out and laughing and enjoying their
popcorn and hot dogs and sodas, and it just drove home to him how the two of
them—him and Jake—would never be a part of it. Before he could say anything
else, though, Dave and Harley scrambled back to the car, hopped in the back,
and started passing out the food they'd gotten.
"Burger and fries," Dave said, passing the little basket to Dirk, "burger and
fries," he added, handing another basket to Jake, "burger and fries for
Harley... and popcorn for me."
"Sodas!" Harley announcing, passing out the cups.
Dave gave a satisfied huff as he leaned back in the seat, and then he groaned.
"Dirk, I can't see. Your big head's in the way."
"Psst," Harley whispered, tapping on Jake's shoulder. "Can you switch with me?
I can't see around you."
Dirk and Jake exchanged glances. The senior heaved an exaggerated sigh.
"Alright, little dude, just give me a second." He and Jake switched places with
Dave and Harley, but not before Dirk took the key out of the ignition and
pocketed it. Dack would kill him if he let Dave drive under any circumstances
(barring unforeseen emergencies, but it wouldn't come to that).
Once they were in the back, the whole perspective changed. Dave couldn't see
them unless he turned completely around—the rearview mirror was angled over
their heads. Harley couldn't see them, either. For all intents and purposes,
they were completely unsupervised, and Dirk kind of liked that. True, they
still couldn't make out or anything, but they squeezed close together in the
middle so they could see over the head rests, and if Jake's fingers pressed
into his through the first movie and he squeezed back, no one could tell, least
of all his brother or Jake's cousin.
But the peace was interrupted in between the first and second movies, when a
dark-colored New Yorker pulled into the space next to theirs, the engine
growling menacingly. Dirk looked over, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses,
and got an eyeful of the occupants.
Shit. Cronus Ampora and Meenah Peixes were in the front seat with Rufioh Nitram
and Damara Megido in the back. He was fairly cool with The Lost Boys—in his
opinion, the Makaras were the worst two of the bunch—but right now, he didn't
want to see them—he didn't even want to look at them. Unfortunately for him,
the four of them were being incredibly rowdy, talking and laughing and
generally making nuisances of themselves.
Dirk wasn't in the mood for a confrontation tonight, though—he was on a date of
his own, and it seemed like the four of them in Ampora's New Yorker were on a
double-date, if the way Damara was practically sitting on Rufioh was any
indication. He slunk down in his seat and held Jake's hand a little tighter.
===============================================================================
Cronus had intercepted the check before anyone could so much as look at it, and
once he'd paid, the four of them left the Freeze King in a hurry. They cruised
around in Cronus's car for about twenty minutes before Rufioh suggested they
drop the girls off and go home. Part of him really did enjoy the attention
Damara showered on him, but there was only so much mental abuse he could take
before he was ready to call it a night. The idea got shot down almost
immediately, though, and Damara suggested an alternative: a drive-in movie.
They'd already missed the first movie of the double feature that was playing
tonight, but they could still make the second. Besides, it wasn't the movie
that was important—it was what went on during the movie.
That was exactly why Rufioh was hoping Cronus would reject the idea—even
thinking about seeing the guy he had a massive crush on making out with a girl
would tear him up.
He dug his nails into his palms as Cronus tilted his head up, thinking it over.
He had a nice-looking neck, actually—not that it was the first time Rufioh had
noticed it. He'd noticed it hundreds of times over the past three years. He
tried not to think of how much he wanted to run his lips and tongue over the
soft skin of his neck to find out how it would feel, how it would taste—
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Cronus said abruptly.
Fuck. Rufioh swallowed hard as Damara cheered and Meenah grinned. Damara threw
her arms around Rufioh and he gamely slung an arm around her. She stayed firmly
curled up beside him, kicking her feet up on the seat next to her, for the
duration of the ride to the drive-in.
When they pulled in next to a black Monterey, the second movie hadn't started
yet. The three of them—Cronus, Meenah, and Damara—were talking and laughing,
and Rufioh desperately wanted to get out of the car and go to the bathroom or
just walk around, something to get away from these people who would hate him if
they really knew him, but he was stuck. He half-glanced to his right and
briefly locked eyes (he thought—it was always so hard to tell with those
glasses of his) with Dirk Strider, who was sitting in the back of the Monterey
with some junior he didn't know. Dirk's brother Dave was in the driver's seat
and a girl was sitting next to him, and all four of them seemed to be engrossed
in the commercials that played on the screen. He wished he could be like
them—happy and normal and just able to spend time with his friends without
feeling like a freak.
He closed his eyes and tightened the arm that was around Damara's waist. She
hummed happily against his chest and snuggled tighter into him.
"Hey, Cro, let's go get some snacks," he heard Meenah say from the front seat.
Rufioh's eyes opened as she went on. "Y'know, an' leave these two love-fish
alone for a bit."
His stomach turned and his eyes widened. He looked imploringly at Cronus. "You
don't have to—"
"Nah, Rufi, it's fine," Cronus said with an over-dramatic wink. "We've been up
in each other's faces all night—you cats should at least have a few minutes to
yourselves." He focused his attention on Meenah. "Snack bar, then?"
The two of them slid out of the car, leaving Rufioh and Damara completely
alone. His heart was racing and he knew she could hear it, but he didn't know
which was worse—the idea of Cronus making out with Meenah right in front of
him, or not knowing whether or not they were making out somewhere else.
"You nervous?" Damara asked playfully.
"A little," he admitted. Not for any reasons you think, though.
"Don't worry," she said, "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything." She smiled at
him and he tried to smile back, but it probably ended up looking like more of a
grimace.
"I—I know."
"Good." She leaned up and pressed a light, chaste kiss to his lips. "I get that
you're nervous, though. And they really aren't helping, either," she added, and
there was no doubt in his mind that by they, she meant Cronus and Damara.
"Yeah, not really."
"And that's fine." She brushed a few strands of his hair back. "It's fine if
you want to take this slow—I was really nervous before my first time, too."
He'd known Damara wasn't a virgin—how many times had he heard Cronus bragging
about all the girls he'd slept with? And they'd dated last year, after all. Had
Cronus been her first, or was it someone else?
The commercials faded out, replaced by the logo of the movie production
company, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as people rushed back to
their cars. A few seconds later, Cronus and Meenah appeared—hand in hand, he
saw with an unpleasant jolt—and he reminded himself that he never had a chance
with Cronus anyway, so what was the point?
It still stung, though.
It was even worse when, as he suspected, Cronus and Meenah started making out
in the middle of the movie. She actually climbed into his lap, sitting astride
him, and Rufioh had to fight to keep up his appearance of outward calm. Inside,
he was screaming, trying not to throw up, trying not to cry. It hurt. It hurt
worse than anything he'd ever felt before, including all the times his dad beat
him. He didn't know what to do besides sit there and pray for an end—to the
movie, to the making out, to his life, he didn't really care which right now.
Besides, it was awkward when there were people making out in such close
proximity in the first place—Rufioh really wouldn't have known what to do with
himself even if he didn't have such a massive crush on Cronus. That probably
explained why Damara started kissing his neck.
He closed his eyes again and tried to pretend that it was Cronus, not Damara,
but her lips were too soft and too small to be his—not that he'd know from
personal experience, but Cronus did have a wider mouth than her, one he'd
wanted to kiss for a really long time now...
He turned his head and kissed her anyway. If he concentrated really hard, he
could almost completely fool himself into believing she was Cronus, and that
was enough. There were still unpleasant slips, like when she pressed herself
closer to him and he could feel her breasts against his shirt or when her long
hair skimmed his cheek or when he caught a whiff of her perfume. Actually, it
was really difficult for him to maintain the illusion because there was nothing
even remotely similar about her and Cronus, but he tried.
He was still grateful when it was over.
===============================================================================
He probably still had Meenah's lipstick smeared on his lips and jaw, but he
wasn't even close to the realm of caring. The night wasn't even over, and it
had already gone quite a bit better than he expected.
He certainly hadn't anticipated Meenah actually climbing into his lap to make
out with him, but he wasn't going to say no. And then Rufioh and Damara had
started making out, too, which eased the slight awkwardness he felt, and he
would have reached into the back seat to high-five him if either of them had
been in a position to make it easy. But that wasn't possible, not that he was
too upset about it. He was more worried about Rufioh in this situation,
anyway—that kiss with Damara had been his first kiss and Cronus was pretty sure
this was his first date, so he needed the extra push.
Which was why he'd so readily agreed to go with Meenah to get snacks—Rufioh and
Damara really did need a bit of time to themselves. But that led to a slew of
other questions. They were almost definitely going to be going on more dates,
but Rufioh didn't have a car of his own and his father probably wasn't in any
kind of mood to let Rufioh drive his car, and Cronus was pretty sure Rufioh
wouldn't want to keep doing the double-date thing. So how would they ever get
anywhere?
Cronus briefly contemplated letting Rufioh borrow his car, but he didn't like
the prospect of Rufioh and Damara fucking in his back seat, so he mentally
dismissed it. He'd think of something, though.
And if his thoughts sometimes strayed to the junior in the red sweater, it was
only because he had never seen a sweater that brightly red before in his life,
and certainly no one who could pull it off as well as him.
***** Chapter 16 *****
They dropped off Damara and Meenah at the Peixes house, where Aranea, Vriska,
Feferi, and probably Aradia were already waiting. Rufioh gamely helped Damara
out of Cronus's car and walked her to the door of the massive house with Cronus
and Meenah hanging back.
"I had a really great time tonight," Damara gushed happily.
He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, me too."
"Thanks." She blushed and tugged on the sleeves of her jacket—actually, it was
his jacket, since she'd gotten a little cold in the back seat, and he'd
gallantly offered her his jacket. "I guess I should probably give this back to
you, huh?" she added.
"Yeah..." He was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and goose bumps were raising
on his arms. "It's kinda cold out here, doll."
She shrugged out of his jacket and draped it back over his shoulders. "Oh,
here!" She pulled out a tube of lipstick and grabbed his arm. Before he could
even ask what she was doing, she was scribbling her phone number on his arm.
"If you want, you can call me this weekend." She smiled. "I'll see you on
Monday, then."
"Yeah. See you Monday."
She blushed again and quickly pressed her lips to Rufioh's before retreating
into Meenah's house.
He swallowed hard and carefully threaded his arms through the sleeves of his
jacket, heading back to Cronus's car while he and Meenah went to the front
door. He had to watch while the two of them talked for a few moments, too
quietly for him to hear, and he patted down his pockets for a cigarette.
He wrinkled his nose as he found his pack and the book of matches. The leather
of his jacket had somehow absorbed the smell of Damara's perfume. He'd have to
keep it in the closet all weekend in order to overpower it again.
He forced himself to look away when they started kissing. It probably wouldn't
go on too long—he could see Aranea peering out at Cronus and Meenah from a
second-story window, looking livid as she surveyed the scene. He wondered what
her deal was with Cronus. Yeah, he wasn't the nicest guy sometimes, but it
almost seemed like she was almost jealous of him.
Just like he was jealous of Meenah.
Oh. What if she was? That would certainly answer a lot of questions. It made
sense, too—he recognized himself in a lot of things she said about Cronus.
They finally disentangled themselves and she went inside, closing the door
behind her. Cronus shoved his hands in his pockets and practically skipped down
the steps and to the car. "Overall, quite a rewardin' evenin', huh?"
"I guess she likes you a lot," Rufioh guessed.
He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm tryin' to live in the moment, though.
Damara really likes you, though," he added, nudging Rufioh with his elbow.
"Yeah, she does," he mumbled.
He tried to keep his thoughts anywhere but her or the boy sitting on his left,
but as they drew closer to his house, he felt more and more choked. He couldn't
stay here next to Cronus and he didn't want to go home to face down his father
again and he didn't want to do anything but avoid everything for a good long
time. "Just drop me here," he said as Cronus rounded the corner next to a gas
station where a blue pickup was parked next to a pump.
"Huh?"
"Just drop me off here," Rufioh repeated, realizing he sounded close to
hysteria and not being able to contain it.
Cronus slowed and turned into the gas station. "Are you sure? You okay?"
"I just feel like walkin' the rest of the way, okay?" he practically snapped.
As he spoke, the cut on his lip split open and he tasted blood again. His heart
was pounding in his chest, making his eye throb that much worse, and all he
wanted was to be out of this car and away from Cronus Ampora.
Cronus blinked and then nodded. "Okay. It's cool, man. Just be careful, okay?
Don't want you gettin' mugged or somethin'."
"I'll be fine." Rufioh got out and slammed the door behind him. Cronus idled
there for a few moments before pulling out and heading off in the opposite
direction, toward his own house.
Rufioh sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He finished off his
cigarette and flicked it away, eyeing the blue pickup, but the cab was empty.
The door to the store opened and some guy in a letterman jacket strolled out.
The jacket was the only reason he knew for sure that the guy went to Lakeside,
too—the red and purple was pretty distinctive. Otherwise, he only had the vague
feeling of having a class or two with him to indicate that he knew him. He
probably should have known him, honestly, since there was a violet '56 on the
shoulder of the jacket—he was a senior, too.
It took him three seconds to realize that the jock had stopped halfway between
the store and the truck and was looking right at him. Rufioh swallowed hard and
shoved his hands into his pockets, starting to walk away.
"Rufioh! Rufioh Nitram, right?"
He spun around. This guy knew him? "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I don't know your name."
"Horuss Zahhak. Do you..." Zahhak looked a little apprehensive and absently
tugged on his hair for a second. "Do you need a ride somewhere? I saw you at
the rally but I thought you were with..."
"The Lost Boys, yeah. I was. I..." What do I say? Zahhak was a practically a
stranger to him. "It's a long story."
Looking as awkward as Rufioh felt, Zahhak waved his hand toward the truck. "If
you like, I can give you a ride home."
He didn't know what to say. Now that he was out here, he felt much less
constricted. Being away from Cronus put him more at-ease, and even though he
could still feel the stickiness of Damara's lipstick on his arm, he could
breathe again. Besides, Zahhak seemed sincere enough.
"You, ah, look like you've had a rough night," Zahhak added, and Rufioh was
forcibly reminded that his lip was probably still bleeding and he still had a
black eye. Zahhak could probably see it.
"That's puttin' it mildly," Rufioh muttered. "Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."
It only took him another two seconds to decide. "Yeah, alright. I don't live
too far from here, actually."
===============================================================================
Kankri and Karkat crept up to the door and Kankri fit his key into the lock.
The porch light was still on for them but the kitchen light and living room
light were both out. It was only eleven-fifteen or so, but it was entirely
possible that their parents had already gone to bed. Kankri certainly hoped
they were asleep, anyway. He and Karkat were a little later than the eleven
o'clock guess Porrim had given their parents.
The hinges creaked when the door opened and Kankri cringed. The sound could
have woken the whole state. Finally, the door was open wide enough to admit
them one at a time, and Kankri let Karkat sneak in before him. He closed the
door behind them as quietly as possible and Karkat started off toward his room,
but Kankri elbowed him hard and pointed down.
Karkat gave him a puzzled look until Kankri took off his shoes. Socks would be
much quieter on the wood floors than their shoes.
Following his lead, Karkat took off his own shoes, and they crept down the hall
to their rooms. They'd escaped detection for the time being, and that was the
way Kankri wanted it right now. He needed a bit of peace from the action-packed
day he'd had.
Once he was in his room, he quickly changed into his pajamas and snuggled under
the covers. It had been a very hectic day and he was exhausted, but sleep
didn't come as easily as he hoped. His mind was still stuck skipping like a
broken record on those few seconds at the Freeze King.
Cronus Ampora had been flat-out staring at him, and it wasn't the kind of stare
he was used to getting from people. He was used to hostile looks, glares, and
laughter that was definitely from making fun of him. He wasn't used to that
intrigued look Ampora had given him, and he definitely wasn't used to the way
his cheeks heated up in response. But he could acknowledge that, with eyes like
that, it was no surprise he was there on a date. Ampora was rather handsome,
even if he was also a jerk.
But why had Ampora been looking at him like that in the first place? He
supposed he could have understood it if he were a girl, but...
Kankri let out a ragged gasp, muffled by the sleeve of his pajama shirt. There
was no way. Cronus Ampora wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to have sex with
other guys—he just wasn't. He didn't look like the type at all.
And I'm definitely not that kind of guy, either, he reminded himself. He rolled
over and forced his eyes closed. He was not going to think about it anymore—not
when he'd promised his mother he'd help with breakfast the next morning. He
really needed to get to sleep.
===============================================================================
"What a weird guy," Cronus muttered to himself, eyeing the disappearing form of
Rufioh in his rearview mirror. He'd thought that everything had gone pretty
well tonight, all things considered. He suspected that Damara had pushed Rufioh
a little past his comfort zone, but it was for his own good. The guy hadn't
even been kissed before, much less been on an actual date. He needed to be
pushed.
And then there was the thing with Meenah. She'd warmed up to him quite a bit
tonight—whether because she actually liked him or she just wanted to get laid,
he didn't really care. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dated a girl only for
the sex. Not that they were dating right now, and not that they'd had sex yet.
It was all up in the air, and he was content to wait to see what happened on
its own. There was no need to force anything there.
But after they'd dropped the girls off, Rufioh had seemed pretty tense until he
finally demanded that Cronus pull over and let him out. He hadn't felt right
about just leaving him at the gas station, but he'd insisted, so what reason
did he have for not listening?
As he drove away, though, he realized that maybe the night hadn't been so great
for Rufioh. Maybe it was a lot to handle all at once. That was fine. And maybe
he wanted to prolong the time before he got home to that jackass of a father of
his.
Cronus reflexively looked back even though Rufioh was long out of sight. He had
to admit that, were there positions reversed, he wouldn't be too anxious to
return home, either. Living at the Nitram house couldn't have been easy.
He pulled into the driveway of his house a few minutes later. Someone had left
the porch light on for him—probably Eridan, since his parents knew he stayed
out late whenever he could. He found himself oddly touched by the gesture even
though he didn't really consider himself the sentimental type. At least there
was someone in his family who'd leave the light on for him.
The rest of the house was dark. He flipped the porch light off as he shut the
door behind him and slunk up the stairs as quietly as he could. At the top, he
hovered for a moment, looking toward Eridan's door. At the last second, he
crept to the door and pressed his ear to it. Everything was quiet inside, so he
gingerly opened the door and poked his head in.
Eridan was already asleep, his arm dangling over the side of the bed and his
covers pulled up to his nose. He was snoring softly and, as Cronus watched, he
turned over and something fell out of his other hand and to the floor.
Cronus furrowed his brows. It looked like a comic book, but he thought Eridan
had stopped buying those two years ago. Apparently not, though—this one looked
recent. It had a wizard on the cover and he grinned to himself as he crept in
and picked it up. He set the comic book on Eridan's nightstand and then slid
his brother's glasses from his face—he'd fallen asleep reading, it seemed. His
brotherly deed for the month accomplished, he slipped back out of Eridan's
room, closed the door, and continued to his own bedroom.
It was a good long while before he fell asleep, but when he finally did, he
dreamed of red sweaters and chatty juniors.
===============================================================================
"Thanks for the ride," Rufioh said, hopping out of the cab of Zahhak's truck.
"I appreciate it."
"It's no problem," Zahhak said. "If you ever need a ride again, let me know."
His chest felt light but that was stupid, Zahhak didn't mean anything by it.
Still, Rufioh found it hard to look away from him—he had blue eyes like Cronus,
but they were softer, kinder. His hair was oddly long, almost like a girl's,
but it just made him more striking-looking. Rufioh found himself unwilling to
close the door on him. "Thanks, Zahhak. I'll do that."
Zahhak smiled and Rufioh wondered how he hadn't noticed him before. Was it
because he was a greaser and Zahhak was a jock? Was that the only reason this
boy had escaped his notice in the three years they'd gone to school together?
That smile was a killer. "Please, call me Horuss. I believe we're on a first-
name basis now, Rufioh."
Rufioh nodded, feeling an unforced smile slide across his face in response. For
some reason, he really liked hearing his name from Horuss's mouth. "Yeah,
you're probably right. Thanks, Horuss," he added.
Horuss's smile widened. "Have a nice night."
"Yeah, you too." Rufioh finally, reluctantly, closed the door to Horuss's truck
and went up to his house. Even from outside, he could hear one of the dogs
barking—it was probably Tink. She always waited by the door until he got home.
He opened the front door and, sure enough, Tink was waiting right there,
looking up at him. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Horuss's truck
roar off, and he smiled to himself. He'd never really had anything against
jocks per se—The Lost Boys tended to be ostracized from most other social
groups at school, jocks included, but he never harbored any animosity toward
them. Cronus and the Makaras talked shit about pretty much everyone, but Horuss
obviously didn't care. He was nice to him anyway.
He crouched down to run his fingers over his dog's head. Most of the dogs
belonged to his dad, but Tink was his dog. She'd been his from the moment she
was born. "Hey, girl. Tav make it home okay?" he asked, as though she could
answer.
She kind of could though. She nodded slightly and licked at his wrist,
reminding him that Damara had written her number on his arm.
"I guess I better take care of that, huh? Don't want you gettin' sick from
eatin' lipstick."
She trailed after him to his bedroom where he hung up his jacket, grabbed a
piece of paper and a pen, and transcribed Damara's number. Maybe he'd call her
on Sunday, just to talk. Hopefully he could steer the conversation toward
something besides them.
Tink followed him to the bathroom afterward and watched him scrub the red
lipstick from his arm. "Don't ever give guys your number this way," he
instructed her. "It smeared in the sleeve of my jacket."
She barked quietly in acknowledgement.
He peeked in on Tavros, who was already asleep, before heading back to his
room. Tink jumped up on his bed and watched him change into pajamas and scooted
toward the head of the bed when he turned off the light and climbed under the
covers. He fell asleep feeling surprisingly content—some combination of having
his dog under his arm and Horuss... yeah, if he didn't watch himself, he might
actually find himself getting over Cronus, and while that was a good thing, he
wasn't sure that liking Horuss was a smart alternative.
It would certainly sting less to like someone who wasn't his closest friend,
though.
***** Chapter 17 *****
A chorus of laughter and cheering greeted Meenah and Damara when they got
upstairs to Meenah's bedroom. Roxy stumbled over to them and pulled them both
into an awkward hug. "Hey, dolls! Wha's hap'nin'? How was your date?" she
asked, drawing out the word date until it had about ten vowels. She was clearly
already drunk, although there weren't many times when she wasn't drunk.
"Fintastic," Meenah said, pointedly ignoring the glower on Aranea's face.
"Who were you guys out with ag'in?"
"Cro Ampora an' Rufi Nitram." She patted the top of Roxy's head and unwound her
arm from the stranglehold she had on Damara's neck. Now freed, Damara
practically skipped over to where Aradia was sitting between Feferi's legs
while Meenah's younger sister brushed her hair. Meenah may not have been too
crazy about either of the Megidos—they could have been worse, she supposed—but
it made her happy that Feferi had joined in on their impromptu sleepover and
that she'd automatically clicked with Damara's sister.
Roxy collapsed in a heap next to Vriska, who was filing her nails and taking
sips from Roxy's bottle of wine. Vriska laughed and helped Roxy sit up, and
Meenah went to sit with them, too. The only one of the Fuchsia Ladies who
didn't look to be having a good time was Aranea.
The elder Serket stayed sitting by the window, nursing a bottle of beer and
looking sulky. Part of Meenah wanted to find out what was wrong, but Aranea had
been in this pissy mood for hours and it was starting to wear on her last
nerves. To distract herself, she turned her attention to Damara and her
recounting of the night. She'd been there and didn't need to listen, but she
wanted to hear this anyway. It was obvious she was crazy about Rufioh—she'd
been gushing about him nonstop for like a year now. Meenah imagined that
finally going on a date with someone she'd been pining after for a year
warranted a fair bit of excitement.
"...and he had a black eye, but he didn't say why. But he was so sweet, and it
was his first kiss, too! I couldn't believe it! Oh, he's so cute and so shy!"
Roxy tumbled backward, laughing. "Wha' did you guys dooooo?"
Damara grinned and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Well, we started off at
the bonfire, and then we went to the Freeze King and then we caught the last
movie of a drive-in double-feature and Meenah and Cronus left us alone for
awhile so we got a chance to really talk." Meenah could practically see the
hearts pouring out of her eyes and it was almost cute.
Her own evening with Cronus had been surprisingly enjoyable, too, although she
certainly wasn't head over heels for him like Damara was for Rufioh. Cronus
wasn't bad company, though, and he was a decent kisser, too. She genuinely did
not understand what Aranea's problem with him was. He wasn't even that much of
a jackass when you got him alone—he put up a façade at school but when he
wasn't there, he bordered on sweet.
Feferi put her brush aside and began gathering up Aradia's hair to braid it
while Aradia groped for a bottle of dark red nail polish and grabbed Damara's
hand. "Sounds like you had a great time then," she said. She unscrewed the
brush and started painting her sister's nails.
"Oh, yeah!" Damara heaved an overly dramatic sigh and fanned herself off with
her free hand. "Girls, I am in love, and I think you are all looking at the
future Mrs. Rufioh Nitram."
And that was where Meenah drew the line. She turned her head to hide her
gagging motion and grabbed Roxy's bottle of wine.
"Awwww, congrats, baby!" Roxy slurred happily. "I hope you have like four
hundred whiny little brats!"
Damara let out a shrill giggle and covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, Roxy, you're
fucking crazy. I don't want four hundred kids!"
Which was probably the smartest thing she'd said all night, in Meenah's
opinion.
"Oh, but I did give him my number," she added.
"In lipstick. On his arm," Meenah interjected.
"Well, what else was I supposed to do? I didn't have a pen!"
Meenah supposed she had a point but she still thought it was a stupid gesture.
To hide her disdain, she took another swig from Roxy's wine bottle and handed
it back to Vriska, who finished it off.
"Sorry, Rox. We drank all the wine." Vriska grinned. "All of it."
"No, not all a' it!" Roxy twisted around and rolled over to her overnight bag,
set in a corner. She unzipped it and rifled around for a minute. "Oh. Well,
yeah, th' wine's gone, but I still got vo'ka!"
"Girl, ya' best hand that shit over right glubbin' now," Meenah said, holding
out her hand.
Roxy immediately fished out the bottle and gave it to her while Vriska began
patting down her pockets for cigarettes.
"Hey, sis, open that window, would you?" she asked. She located a pack and took
one out. "Anyone else want one?"
Aranea grudgingly opened up the window and the still-warm night air floated in.
Meenah snagged a cigarette from the pack Vriska started to pass around and
tossed it to Roxy. She, Damara, and Aradia all took one, but Feferi and Aranea
opted out. Still, by the time Meenah took a swig of Roxy's vodka and lit her
cigarette, there was a fair cloud of smoke in the room and she was glad Vriska
had thought to open the window. Meenah's parents hadn't expressly forbidden her
from smoking in her room, but she didn't want to call down their ire just in
case.
Vriska casually stood up and went to Meenah's record collection. She started
rifling through them until she found one she liked and put it on the turntable.
"So, Meenah," she said slowly and deliberately as she dropped the needle,
"we've all heard how much fun Damara had with bull-boy." Frank Sinatra's smooth
voice began floating through the air and Vriska turned around, casually leaning
back against the turntable. She grinned. "What about you and Cronus? You two
seemed pretty cozy when he dropped you guys off."
Meenah could practically hear Aranea's brain sizzling as she seethed, and
Vriska seemed extremely aware of the effect her words were having on her
sister. In fact, Meenah got the impression that she'd intended for that to
happen. She just knew how to steal the light from any situation.
Aranea and Vriska got along fairly well most of the time, but sometimes they
went after each other and just pissed each other off. Right now seemed to be
the latter. Alright, then. I'll play along.
She spared a cursory glance at Aranea before replying, "Whale, he was reel nice
the whole time, an' we made out a lot." She took a long drag on her cigarette.
"Oh, an' he felt me up, too," she added on sudden inspiration. It was a
completely bald-faced lie, but no one else would know that.
"What?" Damara demanded. "When was that?"
Shit. Meenah turned to glare at her. "When we were gone an' you an' Rufi were
in the back seat glubbin' or makin' out or whatever the hell it was you were
doin'. We were havin' some fun of our own."
"Oh." Damara grinned sheepishly, apparently satisfied with that explanation.
Aranea, however, was far less satisfied. She let out a frustrated groan and
stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
"Fuck," Meenah muttered. "Now my parents are gonna be reel pissed. The last
thing they wanna hear at goddamn eleven at night is door-slammin'. What the
fuck is her problem, anyway?" This, she addressed to Vriska, who shrugged. "I
mean, I know she don't like Cro, but this is goddamn ridiculous."
"The inner workings of my sister's mind are a mystery to me," Vriska said
lightly. She took a drag on her cigarette and reached for the bottle of vodka
that had settled in front of Roxy. The blonde handed it over, nearly tumbling
into Meenah's lap in the process.
"You could always ask her," Feferi said. She was already halfway done with
braiding up Aradia's curls, and Aradia was nearly finished painting all of
Damara's nails.
"Yeah, tried that already."
"Ask her again."
"An' why would she tell me now when she didn't before?"
"She's drunk!" Roxy slurred. "Or at least, she's been drinkin'. She migh' jus'
tell you now."
Meenah had to admit that Roxy had a point. She got unsteadily to her feet and
followed Aranea out of the bedroom. From there, she vaguely remembered hearing
Aranea's footsteps retreating down the hallway and down the stairs, but from
there—
Downstairs, the sliding door opened and then closed. Backyard. Meenah hurried
after her, down the stairs and through the parlor, the dining room, and the
living room, but she stopped in front of the sliding door.
Aranea was out there, all right. She pulled her arm back and threw the empty
beer bottle with all of her strength, and it disappeared into the grass beyond
the Peixes family pool. Meenah could hear her grunt with effort before she
dropped her arm and gazed after it. For a few moments, she was completely
still, and Meenah put her hand on the handle of the door and waited.
And then, taking Meenah completely by surprise, Aranea dropped her head into
her hands, her shoulders already shaking from crying. Oh, fuck. Something
really was wrong—Aranea hardly ever cried, and certainly about nothing trivial.
Without another second of hesitation, Meenah pulled the door open and rushed
outside.
Aranea spun around at the sound, pulling her glasses off and already starting
to wipe away her tears, but it was too late—Meenah had already seen them.
"Girl, talk to me," she said, closing the distance between them and grabbing
Aranea's hands. "Somefin's wrong an' ya' gotta tell me what."
"Why?" Aranea asked quietly. She didn't try to wrench her hands away. If
anything, she seemed to lean a little closer.
"Because we're fronds, that's why. I care about ya', even if I do rag on ya'
from time to time. Come on, that's what fronds do. Somefin's buggin' ya', an'
ya' ain't tellin' me. That's a problem."
Aranea blinked once or twice, her wide brown eyes filling up with tears again.
"Trust me. If I tell you, you'll hate me."
"What kinda friend do ya' take me for?" Meenah asked, deliberately dropping the
pun that she could have used to demonstrate how serious she was. "I'm sure it's
not that bad. What's your deal with Cronus? He really ain't that bad."
"Well..." Aranea looked down at their shoes. "It's just..." She looked up,
seeming to debate with herself for a few moments.
And then Aranea kissed her.
Meenah's breath caught in her chest and she automatically closed her eyes. She
dizzily wondered how just a pair of lips against her own was enough to make her
feel like she was floating because that's what it felt like, that her feet had
lifted off the grass.
Aranea pulled back, blushing. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking back down. Her
hands still in Meenah's, she twisted her fingers together and played with her
glasses.
The kiss had only lasted a few seconds, but to Meenah, it seemed like it had
gone on for years and somehow, it still wasn't enough. It was a lot different
than kissing Cronus with the height difference and how different they smelled
and how he always seemed to jump right to the "let's shove our tongues in each
other's mouths" stage, but it wasn't a bad kind of different. "It's okay," she
said faintly. "Is that why ya' hate him so much? Because you're jealous of
him?"
"I'm not jealous of him. I just... don't like the idea of him kissing you,
that's all."
"Because you like me," Meenah half-guessed.
Aranea sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah. I suppose so."
Meenah didn't need to hear any more. Aranea had just admitted that she liked
her. Her heart was racing and all she could think to do was press her mouth to
Aranea's again.
She let out a squeak of surprise, tugged her hands out of Meenah's grasp, and
threw her arms around her neck. Her own hands now free, Meenah was able to
slide them around Aranea's waist, and the taller girl took a step closer to
press her body against Meenah's.
You're kissing agirl!some voice in her brain screamed at her, but she told that
annoying voice to shut up. It was just a kiss, after all, and it made her feel
lighter than air, as though she could float off and become a constellation if
she didn't have Aranea to hold her and anchor her in place. It was certainly a
better kiss than one she'd ever gotten from Cronus, and this was far more
intimate than any kiss they'd ever shared. Besides, it was Aranea. They'd been
friends since middle school. They...
She couldn't think very well anymore. Aranea had tilted her head to the side,
changing the angle slightly, and all of Meenah's brainpower was stuttering on
how good Aranea's lips felt on hers. And then one thought managed to bubble to
the surface.
"How long?" she asked, barely pulling back.
"Huh?" Aranea asked ineloquently.
"How long have ya' liked me?"
She pulled back a little, brushing her bangs back from her face. "Since...
since sophomore year, I think. Maybe earlier. I don't know—there wasn't some
big event that triggered it or something. It just kind of... happened, I guess.
But I think I realized it... I don't know, a few months ago, maybe? Like,
looking back on it, I think I always kind of knew, even though I didn't really
know, if that makes sense."
"Almost some."
"I'm sorry, I know I'm not making any sense—I just can't think right now. It's
all..." She waved her hands. "It's kind of overwhelming. Like I tell you I like
you and I kiss you and you don't freak out or seem to hate me and... I don't
know, I guess I thought you'd call me a freak or something and never want to
talk to me again."
"I don't hate ya'," Meenah said. "That bein' said, I... I don't really know
what my feelin's are doin' right now. I know I definitely like kissin' ya' an'
I like you, too, but I don't know how much." Now that they weren't kissing
anymore and she could actually breathe, she began to wonder—even if she did
like Aranea just as much as Aranea liked her, what did it mean? They couldn't
really be together, could they?
And then there was Cronus. She liked him, too, but in a different way. She just
wasn't sure how much she liked him, either. Besides, it would be really
difficult to justify not going on another date with him because of Aranea's
feelings.
"Let's just go inside," Meenah said after a few moments. "We can glub more
about it later."
"Alright, Meenah. We'll glub more later."
She grabbed Aranea by the hand and led her back inside, a smile crossing her
face at Aranea's use of a water pun. It really didn't take much to make her
happy.
===============================================================================
Three miles away, an indigo Mainline was idling outside a modest-sized house. A
girl threw open her first-floor bedroom window, climbed over her window ledge,
and bounced into the grass. She got to her feet, brushed the grass and dirt
from her clothes, and sprinted to the passenger door of the car. She pulled it
open, climbed in, and gave the driver a long, lingering kiss.
"What are we doing tonight, baby?" Meulin asked.
Kurloz grinned and laced the fingers of his free hand through hers. "Whatever
you wanna do, doll."
***** Chapter 18 *****
Two hours ago
Kurloz Makara's Mainline rolled to a stop in front of Eridan's house. Eridan
shoved the car door open, climbed out, and headed up the stairs to the house as
Kurloz pulled away from the curb.
He hated getting a ride home with the Makaras. The car smelled funny, like
stale beer, and both Kurloz and Gamzee were obnoxious. Tavros Nitram, Rufioh's
younger brother, had been in the car, too, and while Eridan didn't necessarily
have anything against him, the kid was really quiet. (Actually, he was younger
than Tavros by over a year so he really had no business referring to him as
"the kid," but Tavros definitely didn't act like he was already sixteen.)
The lights were all out at home, so Eridan flipped on the porch light for
Cronus and crept up the stairs to his room. Within a few minutes, he was
changed into his pajamas and crawling under his covers, pulling open the drawer
to his nightstand, and withdrawing The Fantastical Adventures of Doctor
Obsidian, Volume 5, Issue 4. He hadn't finished reading it yet and he'd gotten
it last weekend—that was unacceptable. He settled into bed and started reading,
not bothering to take off his glasses.
Unfortunately, he fell asleep within minutes, his comic book dangling
precariously from his fingers over the side of his bed.
===============================================================================
After Eridan left, the car ride turned awkward. Tavros could tell Gamzee wanted
to say something but he wouldn't, not with Kurloz right there. That suited him
just fine, though—Gamzee thought he knew what was going on in his life? He was
wrong. He couldn't even imagine the shit that Tavros went through.
And, sure, he knew that the Makaras didn't have an ideal home life, either.
Their father was one of the most corrupt politicians in the state and everyone
knew it, and everyone also knew that Dardan Makara was about the farthest thing
from a decent human being, let alone a decent father. He and his wife were
usually gone for weeks at a time, leaving Kurloz and Gamzee to fend for
themselves, but Tavros would much rather have had a distant father than one who
drank too much and hit him and his brother. Gamzee was so lucky and he didn't
even realize it.
When Kurloz finally pulled up in front of Tavros's house, he let himself out
and started up the short walk to the front door before he heard another car
door opening and closing, and Kurloz yelling, "Hey!" Tavros didn't bother
turning around, not until Gamzee had passed him and got in front of him.
"What do you want now?" Tavros asked quietly. He tried to keep the bitterness
out of his voice since they had just had a fairly civil conversation only an
hour or so before, but being back in front of his house just reminded him of
what he was walking right back into.
"You don't gotta motherfucking go back in there right now if you don't wanna,"
Gamzee explained. "I'm sure Kurloz won't motherfucking mind driving you back to
our house if you wanna motherfucking crash there."
It was tempting. Even if it meant sleeping on the floor or a couch, it would be
better than here. But what happened when Rufioh came home and didn't see him
there? Or what their father woke up and Tavros still wasn't home? He couldn't
even imagine the shitstorm that would come his way.
"I... I appreciate it, but... it's probably not a good idea. My dad probably
wouldn't..."
"It's okay, little motherfucker." Gamzee smiled nervously. "I was just up and
thinking that if you didn't wanna motherfucking go back right now, you could
use an alternative, you know? But if you up and motherfucking change your mind,
just call and we'll come and motherfucking get you, okay?"
Tavros nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."
Gamzee looked at him for a few more seconds before he quickly kissed the top of
Tavros's head and went back to the car. Tavros couldn't breathe for a second—he
waited for Kurloz to yell something or for someone else to have seen and start
screaming about immoral behavior or something but nothing happened, and Tavros
was left standing on the cement of the path to his door, feeling really
confused.
Kurloz didn't pull away from the curb until Tavros had closed the front door
behind him. A few of the dogs were still awake, including Tink, Rufioh's dog.
She nosed up to the door and sniffed, apparently looking for him, and whined
when he wasn't there.
"He's not home yet," Tavros murmured, crouching down to pet Tink's head. "He's
got a date tonight, but don't worry—you're the only girl for him."
She whined again, more quietly now, and lay down by the door. Tavros stood up
and padded to his room with Peter and Wendy following behind him. Neither of
the dogs was really his but they both followed him around so much that he could
tell they'd both kind of adopted him as theirs. Technically, all the dogs save
Tink belonged to their father, but Dontay Nitram hit them, too, so they had a
glaring mistrust of him. It was only a matter of time before one of them bit
him back, though.
He stripped down to his boxers and crawled under his covers. Peter hopped up
onto his bed and settled at his feet, but it took Wendy a minute to follow his
lead, and instead of staying at the foot of the bed, she snuggled up under his
arm and licked at his face until he finally laughed and pushed her away.
If it weren't for the dogs and his brother, he would definitely lose his mind.
===============================================================================
"You not coming in, motherfucker?" Gamzee asked when Kurloz stopped in front of
their house but didn't turn off the car.
"Nah, motherfucker. I got other motherfucking things to do tonight. You gonna
be alright by yourself, motherfucker?"
Gamzee regarded the big, empty house with slight trepidation. He really didn't
want to be alone, but he apparently didn't have much of a choice. Besides, if
he got restless and sleepless later (which he almost assuredly would), he could
just go walk around the park and talk to whoever else was there, and there was
always someone at the park. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He slid out of the front seat
and headed up to the door.
Kurloz pulled away before Gamzee made it five steps. He watched Kurloz's
taillights receding into the darkness before he sighed and continued up the
walk and four stairs to the front door.
He knew no one was home, but he still found himself calling out, "Hello?" as he
unlocked and opened the door. No one answered, and he sighed again, shrugging
out of his jacket. He wasn't tired, so going to sleep was essentially useless.
He went to the living room and turned on the television. He didn't have
anything better to do right now, and sure, it would either be news or crap
shows on, but it sure beat staring at his bedroom ceiling for hours until
Kurloz got back from wherever it was he was going.
===============================================================================
He drove around for awhile, smoking cigarettes and singing along—badly—to songs
on the radio. At one point, he went to the corner store and picked up six-pack
of beer, just in case, and stuck it in the trunk. He checked the time about
eighteen times before his watch finally displayed 11:18 PM. From here, it would
only take him twelve minutes to arrive at her house, and with any luck, she'd
be sliding open her bedroom window as he pulled up.
He hit every green light on the way and the late hour left the streets nearly
deserted, so he made it to her house in just under eleven minutes, but she must
have been waiting for him by the window, because as he stopped, her window
opened and she hopped out. With an unremarkable grace considering she was a
cheerleader, she landed, sprang to her feet, and sprinted down the lawn, one of
the streetlights catching on her necklace, before sliding into the car and
kissing him.
"What are we doing tonight, baby?" she asked.
Kurloz grinned. "Whatever you wanna do, doll."
Meulin laughed as he pulled away, and she dragged the fingers of her free hand
through her hair. "God, it's such a nice night. I thought it was supposed to
rain, but I'm glad it didn't."
He personally thought it would have still been nice with the rain, but he kept
it to himself.
"Got a cigarette? Porrim bummed my last one."
"Yeah, doll." He let go of her hand just long enough to dig out his pack of
cigarettes from his pocket and hand it to her. She pulled one out, lit it with
a match she struck off her fingernail, and tossed the pack up onto the
dashboard.
"I didn't really expect to see you at the pep rally. Doesn't really seem like
your kinda beat," she half-joked. "Mixin' with all us squares and whatnot."
"Nah, I had a good excuse. Cronus and Rufioh had dates and they met them there,
so I basically had to go because I ended up driving motherfucking... Eridan and
Tavros home."
Meulin laughed incredulously. "Dates? Them? What girl would be desperate enough
to date them? Besides Porrim, I mean."
Kurloz let out a snort of laughter he tried to suppress. "Well, apparently,
Damara Megido has been motherfucking cow-eyed for Rufi for a long time—this is
just kinda what I heard from all the talking. But I got no motherfucking idea
how Cro convinced Meenah Peixes to go out with him. He managed it, though."
"Wow." Meulin cranked her seat back a few notches and blew a stream of smoke
out the window. "I always thought she had better taste than him."
Kurloz shrugged. "He ain't that bad. But yeah, they all went on a double-date
and left from the rally."
She sighed and let the tendrils of smoke drift out the window for a few
moments. She lazily played with her necklace—moreover, the ring on the chain
around her neck. It was Kurloz's class ring, and she'd been wearing it since
the day after he received it the year before. He'd just told his friends that
he'd lost it, and no one had any reason to doubt it. If Cronus and Rufioh knew
he was dating a cheerleader—scratch that, was in love with a cheerleader—they'd
never let him hear the end of it. Then again, her own friends would probably
ostracize her if they knew she was going with a greaser. Greasers and
cheerleaders didn't mix.
Kurloz didn't care, though. He was crazy about her. They'd been dating for two
and a half years, and considering the amount of time they'd been together, the
fact that it was still a secret was actually quite impressive. But school was
going to end in a few months and they'd both be graduating, and they had to
decide what they were going to do after that. They'd talked about it a few
times, idly of course, but he still wondered.
"So what were you thinking? For tonight, I mean."
She stared up at the stars. "You got a blanket back there?"
"Always."
"And beer?"
"Just picked up a six-pack."
"Let's go stargazing."
"Sure, baby, if that's what you wanna do."
"It's definitely what I wanna do. I was so busy shaking my damn pom-poms at
jocks I didn't even get to enjoy the fire."
===============================================================================
Thirty minutes later saw them pulling to a stop just off a stretch of dirt road
a few miles outside of Lake Pleasant, Ohio. It was an area that hardly saw any
traffic, and almost certainly would be abandoned, especially by anyone else
from school. As soon as they parked, Kurloz cranked the top of the car down to
let in the stars, and as Meulin climbed into the back seat to spread out the
blanket, he went to the trunk and grabbed the beer. He set it on the floor of
the car and slid in the back next to her, under the blanket, and she sighed
happily and snuggled into his side.
"It's crazy how just a little bit of distance makes all the difference," she
murmured, popping the cap off a beer with his keys.
He lit another cigarette. "What do you mean, babe?"
"Shh. Just listen."
He took a drag on the cigarette and listened. "I don't hear nothing," he said
after a few moments of silence."
"Exactly. I meant the fact that we just go a few miles out and all the noise
just disappears." She threw out her arm and took a swig of her beer. "It's just
quiet. No one's around but us."
"Well, that's what happens every time we go out, right?"
"Well, yeah," she said, elbowing him in the ribs, "but that's not the point. I
mean, it really feels like it's just us."
He said it before he really thought about it. "What if it really was just us?"
She took another drink and gave him a funny look. "I'm not following."
He wasn't even sure why he'd said it except that their future together still
weighed heavily on his mind almost all the time. He wished he had someone to
talk it over with, someone detached from the situation, someone to bounce ideas
off of, but he didn't. He just had himself and Meulin. Even Gamzee... he
wouldn't understand. He wouldn't judge Kurloz, but he was high or drunk most of
the time and wouldn't be the best to get any great ideas from. "Well... I was
just thinking, you know. About after graduation."
She went very still under his arm as she waited for him to continue. "And?"
Say it. Do it. Just ask her already. But he couldn't. The words stuck in his
throat and he couldn't make them come out of his mouth. He just took a drag on
his cigarette. "Never mind. It's no big deal.
"Your sister gonna be a cheerleader, too?" he asked in an effort to change the
subject.
"Yeah, maybe. Tryouts for the freshmen are gonna be next week. I hope she
joins, though. It would help her make friends, I think. The only friend I've
heard her talking about is that sophomore guy, Equius whats-his-name. Oh," she
added suddenly, rubbing her forehead. "Student council nominations are up next
week, too."
He grinned. "You wanna be class motherfucking president?"
She practically purred with laughter and shook her head. "Not a chance. Nah,
I'd much rather be treasurer or secretary."
He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder before putting his
cigarette to his lips again. "You know I'd vote for you."
"You should run for president, though."
He nearly choked on the smoke. "You kidding me?" He laughed hoarsely. "I think
our class is gonna have a big enough surprise at the end of the year without me
bein' motherfuckin' class president on top of it."
She giggled, too. "Yeah, you're probably right. Oh, well."
"And homecoming's coming up."
"You gonna go?"
"Maybe. I don't really wanna go stag, though, so I might not." They'd both
skipped the homecoming dance the previous two years since the only person
either of them wanted to go with was someone they couldn't be seen with, but
this would be their last chance. They were seniors. Even though he'd never been
much for school spirit, he didn't want to wake up in twenty years and wish he'd
gone. "But even if we don't go... we should go to prom together. By then, it'll
be, what, two weeks out from graduation? Too late for anyone to really care."
She looked up at him for a few moments, finished off her beer, and tossed the
bottle out of the car. Grinning, she climbed into his lap and gave him a light
kiss. "You asking me to prom?"
He flicked the remainder of his cigarette out of the car as well and rested his
hands on her hips. "Meulin Leijon, will you go to prom with me?"
She dropped her head and laughed, her dark tangle of curls obscuring her face.
"You're such a dork," she giggled. "But you're my dork," she added fondly. She
gave him another, longer kiss and lazily ran her fingers through his hair.
"Yes, Kurloz Makara, I will go to prom with you."
He grinned and kissed her back, and it was two more hours before either of them
even thought about going back home.
***** Chapter 19 *****
Cronus didn't wake up on Saturday morning until ten—although if he had his way,
he wouldn't have woken up until halfway through Sunday. However, Eridan had
been sent to wake him up so he could join the rest of the family for brunch,
and so Cronus reluctantly dragged himself out of his bed and dressed as quickly
as he could. At the kitchen table, his father shot him a filthy look for his
clothes—jeans and the T-shirt he'd quite obviously worn the day before—but he
ignored it. Being awake wasn't even his idea, so he refused to be made to feel
guilty for not dressing "appropriately". Eridan, model son that he was
apparently trying to be, was wearing a purple dress shirt and black dress
pants.
Of course, there was no family rule about sleeping after breakfast, so once his
mother had cleared away all the dishes, he went right back to his room and
crawled back into bed. He knew it was going to mess up his sleep schedule, but
the whole summer had essentially screwed it up, his part-time job
notwithstanding, so he didn't particularly care. He'd been out late the night
before so he was still really tired.
He also promised himself that one he woke up again, he'd stay awake clear
through to Sunday night so he would be able to sleep through the night. As he
drifted off, though, he had a feeling he was lying to himself.
===============================================================================
When he next regained consciousness, it was nine-thirty on Saturday night. Good
enough, he told himself, throwing off his covers and stumbling to the bathroom.
After a quick shower, he styled his hair, got dressed again (in different
clothes than the night before), snagged his car keys, and slipped out of the
house. Eridan was probably still awake, but the status of his parents was a
question mark. Not that he cared too much about their opinion right now—it was
his own car he was taking, he was eighteen, and it was Saturday night.
He was halfway down the front walk before he realized he had no idea what he
was going to do. No matter, though—he'd drive to the nearest payphone and get
ahold of Rufioh and Kurloz, see if they wanted to do something.
There was a payphone by the gas station at the corner of Sunrise and Eighth,
and five minutes later, he was sliding in a quarter and dialing Rufioh's
number. The line rang for a few seconds before someone picked up, and then
Tavros's voice came across. "Uh... hello?"
"Tav, it's Cro. Rufi around?"
"Uh, yeah, lemme get him." There was the gentle thud of Tavros setting the
receiver down on something—presumably the kitchen counter—and retreating
footsteps. Cronus tapped his foot impatiently for nearly two minutes until
there came more footsteps, approaching this time, and then Rufioh said, "Hey,
Cro, what's happening?"
"Nothin' yet, man. Your old man still up?"
"Nah, he crashed like an hour ago. Why?"
"Feel up to sneakin' out an' raisin' some hell?"
A beat of silence. Too long—Rufioh was usually all in favor of getting out of
his house. Cronus was just about to retract his offer when his friend finally
said, "Sure, I can leave."
"Man, if you're busy, it's not a big deal—"
"Oh, no, man, that ain't it. It's just... don't worry about it, it's nothin'.
When are you swingin' by here?"
"Give me a few minutes to see if the Makaras are down to fiesta an' I should be
over in a minute."
"Alright, I'll be waitin' at the corner. See you."
"Yeah, man, see you." Cronus hung up and stared at the receiver for a minute.
What a weird guy. Wonder what's up with him. He shrugged, dismissing it, and
stuck another quarter in to dial Kurloz's house.
This time, the line rang for nearly thirty seconds before anyone answered.
"Good evening, sir or ma'am, you've reached the Makara residence, this is—"
"Kurloz, shut the fuck up an' listen." Cronus pinched the bridge of his nose.
Kurloz—and probably Gamzee—was operating under some kind of drug tonight. He
didn't think it was alcohol, but he was definitely spacing on something. That
was the only explanation for his overly-formal greeting. "You an' Gamzee want
to hang out? I'm about to pick up Rufi an' we can figure out somethin' to do."
"Oh, man, for motherfuckin' sure! An' I got a great motherfuckin' idea for
somethin' we can do, too!"
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Cronus asked, interested despite knowing it would
probably be idiotic.
"Let's go motherfuckin' egg people's houses!"
Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Mayhem, but not so much that they would get
the cops called on them. Sadly, it was one of Kurloz's better ideas. But it
lacked punch. It needed something extra.
In the distance, he could hear church bells suddenly chiming ten o'clock, and
that was where an addendum crept into his head. "I like where you're goin' with
that, Kurly, but I think I can do you one better. Stick tight, I'll be at your
place in a couple a' minutes." He hung up, darted into the mini-mart attached
to the gas station, and bought three dozen eggs. Once he'd set the cartons
carefully onto the seat next to him, he tore off to pick up the boys.
They were definitely going to raise hell tonight.
===============================================================================
"Um..." Rufioh opened the car door and slid into the passenger's seat, gingerly
lifting the three cartons of eggs and examining them. "Any reason you have
unrealized poultry in your car?"
"Kurly's idea with my improvement," Cronus said, grinning. "I'll explain once
we pick up the Makaras. They're waiting."
"Delightful." Rufioh scratched at the side of his head as Cronus gunned the
engine down the street, and he glanced sideways just long enough to realize
that Rufioh's preferred ratio of red to black in his hair was listing a bit too
heavily toward the black side.
"You fixin' to dye your hair again?" he asked.
Rufioh bit his lip and ran his fingers over his hair. There wasn't any grease
in it tonight—he'd had to dash out in a hurry. "I don't know. I wanna, but..."
He rubbed his first two fingers against his thumb. "That takes some coin, an' I
don't got enough to play with right now. An' don't even think about offerin',
'cause I know you're gonna."
Cronus threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. "Hey, man, you know I don't
care. I got more money 'n I know what to do with. All you gotta do is ask."
"Yeah, I know," Rufioh said with a sigh. "I'll think about it."
"In the meantime, keep a good hold on those eggs. Don't wanna break any just
yet."
Rufioh raised his eyebrows. "Are we eggin' someone's house?"
"Nope." Cronus grinned. "Better. But like I said, once we get the Makaras."
Fortunately, they pulled up in front of the Makara home only five minutes
later, and then both Kurloz and Gamzee were sprinting out the front door and
howling like wolves. Cronus rubbed his temples and twisted in his seat to glare
at them as they landed in the backseat, laughing their asses off.
"Alright, kiddies, we have been assembled here tonight for glorious intent.
Brother Rufi, the almost-chickens."
Rufioh held up the egg cartons.
"Brother Kurloz had a halfway decent suggestion of eggin' people's houses, but
since I can't really think of anyone who gets on my nerves besides that Captor
kid, I figure we could do something better. Hear that?" He paused as the bells
in the distance chimed ten-thirty.
"Yeah, those are the bells on that motherfuckin' Baptist church," Gamzee said.
Cronus grinned. "Anyone else feel like performin' an act a' sacrilege tonight?"
"Oh, man, you thinkin' of eggin' that motherfuckin' church?" Kurloz crowed,
catching on.
"Hell, yes!"
There was a general chorus of agreement from the other three in the form of
whoops and yells (even from Rufioh, who Cronus thought would take a bit of
convincing), so Cronus gunned the engine down the street toward Judicial
Avenue, where the church was located.
The moon was bright overhead and the air was quiet save the chirping of
crickets when they arrived a few minutes later. Cronus rolled to a stop in the
parking lot, and all four doors popped open as they climbed out. "There it is,
boys," he said, grinning and spreading his arms wide. The church was tiny and
there was no one else around except them. "Kinda makes you feel like fallin' to
your knees, right?"
Kurloz burst out laughing as he uncapped a bottle of beer. Cronus had no idea
where he'd gotten it from until Gamzee started passing out more bottles.
"Sneaky bastards," Cronus laughed, accepting a bottle. "Who's got the eggs?"
"Right here," Rufioh said. He set the cartons on top of the car and flipped one
open.
Cronus took a swig from his bottle and pulled out an egg. He tossed it in the
air and caught it easily. "Anyone else want the honors?" When the others just
shook their heads, he shrugged. "Alright, suit yourselves." With a fierce yell,
he lobbed the first egg at the front doors of the church, and it connected and
cracked with a solid crunch. Gooey yolk slid down the wooden door, and with
that, the floodgates were opened. Suddenly, all four of them were scrambling to
seize a handful of eggs and chuck them one by one (or, in Gamzee's case, two at
a time) in the direction of the church. Most of the eggs hit their marks, but a
few fell short, splattering into the dust of the parking lot. With all their
hollering, though, Cronus was surprised they didn't wake any of the neighbors.
They were halfway through the last carton when the sound of sirens split the
air. Cronus froze, sure he was imagining it—the other three hadn't acknowledged
the sound—until Rufioh paused, too, and looked around. "Oh, shit! Is that the
cops?"
Gamzee threw every egg in his hands at once. "Fuck! Let's get the motherfuck
out of here!"
"Hang on!" Kurloz picked up the entire carton and chucked them all. The last
four eggs splattered against the church steps before he dived back into the
backseat. "Floor it, motherfucker!"
Cronus peeled out of the parking lot and zipped down a side street, away from
the sirens, barely giving the others a chance to buckle their seat belts. He
went down a few blocks, turned a corner, and parked on the street, flipped off
his headlights, and turned off the engine.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" Rufioh demanded.
"Hidin' in plain sight," Cronus hissed. "I hear those sirens but they ain't
seen us yet. Everyone, get down!"
The sirens kept getting closer as the four of them sank down below the windows.
Cronus held his breath—knowing full well it wouldn't do anything if he
didn't—and then one squad car zoomed past them, followed closely by a second,
and then the sirens faded away again.
"Whoa," Kurloz said, sounding awed. "Two cop cars for us?"
"I can't believe they called the cops on us!" Cronus straightened up in his
seat. "What fuckin' bullshit!"
"They didn't catch us," Rufioh pointed out.
"That's not the point. The heat's on us tonight. We can't do anything now or
else they'll figure out it was us." Cronus sighed. "I'm takin' you guys home."
===============================================================================
Oh, my God.
"What happened here?" his mother asked, her eyes wide as she took in the
damage.
No one had an answer. It seemed that the Vantas men, each of them normally so
verbose, had been rendered completely speechless by the vandalism.
"Looks like eggs," Karkat finally murmured to Kankri, just loud enough for his
brother to hear. Kankri was relieved he kept his voice down, though. Their
father probably would have chastised him for being a smart alec. He probably
wouldn't have used those words, but the spirit would have been there.
"This is disgusting," Karter spat. "What kind of godless hooligans—"
"Reverend!" someone called, jarring the whole family. A woman in a jade-green
dress with short black hair and dark skin strode toward them. Kankri recognized
her immediately: Dolores Maryam, Porrim Maryam's mother.
"Ms. Maryam," Karter said stiffly.
"I'm so sorry about this. I woke up around ten-thirty, eleven o'clock last
night, and I heard yelling, so I looked out my front window and I saw these
four men—well, they were probably teenagers, but it was hard to tell for
sure—and they were flinging eggs at the church! So I called the police,
naturally, but I think the vandals got away. I didn't hear for sure, though."
"That's just... well, thank you for calling the police, anyway," Kaylah said
finally, putting her hand on Karter's shoulder.
Kankri, meanwhile, sidestepped his parents and Porrim's mother and made his way
up to the door. Broken egg shells littered the dirt of the parking lot, and
though he tried to avoid them, he heard a few crunches underfoot. The front
doors and walls had taken the most severe beating, though—whoever had thrown
them had fairly good aim.
"...dark-colored, looked like a Chrysler, but from the distance I was at, it
was difficult to determine for certain..."
Kankri spun around. A dark-colored Chrysler? Four teenage vandals? That sounded
very familiar. The Lost Boys, probably. Cronus Ampora and his band of rebels
had been here last night, on this very ground. He could still see tire tracks
from where his car had been. He couldn't say why, but that thought didn't
bother him as much as he expected.
"So what are we to do about the mess?" he asked abruptly.
With their parents' backs to him, Karkat raised his eyebrows in a you gotta be
shitting me expression.
Karter cleared his throat. "We leave it until after the sermon. I had something
different planned for this morning, but I can very easily work in the
relentless persecution of those of the Christian faith."
Fire and brimstone this morning, then, Kankri said to himself. And here, he'd
been hoping it would be a quiet Sunday.
He turned back to the splattered eggs on the doors. From what he knew about
Cronus Ampora and his band of leather-clad misfits, this would be the type of
thing they'd do. Part of him was upset and horrified—most of him, he liked to
think—but there was a small part of him that was actually jealous of him.
Cronus Ampora had the freedom and the ability to do as he pleased. He could
rebel against everything, and Kankri was the son of a preacher, expected to
behave himself at all times.
Yes, he was jealous. But he wasn't stupid enough to say so out loud.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Notes
     GIGAPAUSE: FINISH.
     Sorry about the hugely belated update. It's my first one post-
     deployment! I hope it's okay! *sweatdrops* Anyway, I think I'm going
     to focus on one fic at a time from now on until I either finish or
     lose steam and want to work on another, whichever comes first.
     Please be gentle.
Kankri chanced a quick glance left and right. His mother had her eyes locked on
the altar, her expression rapt as she gazed at Karter. Behind them, the rest of
the congregation seemed just as taken in as Kaylah. People let out shouts and
cheers of agreement, and all Kankri wanted to do was sink down under the pew
and hide. He didn't even know why, and if it weren't for Karkat's equally-
sullen expression, he would think he was the only one who didn't want to be
there.
He didn't know why he suddenly felt alien here. He'd been coming to this church
for the last two months, ever since they'd first moved here. He had felt so
comfortable here until just this morning. What had happened? Was it Karkat
finally rubbing off on him? Maybe it was the fact that those boys had egged the
church—he didn't feel safe anymore. Or...
He felt like it was something else, something different, or maybe it was some
combination of the three. There was something he was missing, and he couldn't
figure out what it was.
Karkat crossed his arms and sank back into the pew. Kankri's first reaction was
to elbow him and to mutter, "Straighten up." But he couldn't summon the energy,
and as he contemplated it, he realized he didn't care that much anymore. It was
a strange feeling.
His father's booming voice flooded the church to the rafters as he expounded
angrily on the disrespect of modern teenagers, the moral decay of modern
America, the imminent future flooded with Communists, baby-killers, and queers.
Kankri shivered and anxiously scratched at his arm under the fabric of his suit
jacket. He was the only one who seemed to feel genuinely afraid, even for
reasons he couldn't quite name. Karkat just seemed bored; there was a glazed
look in his eye as he stared down at his fingernails. As usual for Sunday
mornings, his hair had been tamed with a liberal amount of pomade, but even
though the front and sides were smoothed down, a stray tuft still stuck up in
the back. Kankri's own hair had been combed back, but nothing held it in place
except prayers and a fine layer of sweat beading up on his scalp. It was still
roasting in the church, even in early September.
He could imagine Porrim sitting in the back next to her mother with Kanaya
beside her, both of them sitting primly and appearing to listen, but he knew
Porrim well enough by now to know that she didn't buy a word of it, either. She
had a deep disdain of organized religion, but she was kind enough to keep it to
herself around him. In exchange, he'd kept his father's sermons out of
everything he said.
How was it possible that he'd changed so much in barely a week? What had
happened? Had school in Ohio really changed him so much already?
He glanced up again, just in time to catch his father's eye, and suddenly,
despite the heat, he felt cold. Whatever was changing inside him, it was clear
from the look on Karter's face that it was dangerous.
===============================================================================
Cronus barely woke up enough to hear the front door opening and closing
quietly, but he wasn't surprised. Since his eighteenth birthday, his parents
had given up on making him go to church with them. Eridan was still stuck with
them for another two and a half years, but he was free to sleep in on Sundays.
Besides, from the sound of that new preacher they'd gotten at the beginning of
the summer, the place was a lot more fire-and-brimstone than before, which was
already more than he wanted to have preached at him.
The Reverend Karter Vantas. Why did that name stick in his head? He was sure
he'd heard it before—his parents had mentioned him several times, after all—but
that wasn't it. There was some other context, and he couldn't—
Kankri Vantas. That was the new junior with the red sweater in his history
class, wasn't it? Or was it English? Math? No, wait, it was debate class. The
last name wasn't exactly common, so he had a pretty good hunch that the new
junior was the son of the new preacher. Cronus smirked—he had a feeling that
tomorrow morning would be interesting. No doubt Kankri attended every one of
his sainted father's sermons, so there was no doubt that Vantas would get an
eyeful of the egging the church had undergone. He wondered if Vantas would say
anything about it. Maybe he'd be upset—or, surprisingly, even better, secretly
amused.
Cronus rolled out of bed and hopped into his jeans before slinking down the
stairs in bare feet. He still needed a shower to wash the grease out of his
hair, but he could take care of that after some breakfast. Enjoying the
solitude of the house on Sunday morning, he poured a bowl of cereal and headed
out to the back porch. The sun was shining on the patio, warming the morning
air, and he dragged a wicker chair over to the grass so he could feel it
between his toes as he ate.
He knew he'd still be hungry after one bowl of cereal, but that was fine
because his mother always made a big family brunch after church on Sundays, and
he would still be expected to join them for that, at least. He was eighteen, so
he was pretty much always hungry, and one tiny bowl of cereal wouldn't change
that.
He'd gotten home late last night, past one, after dropping off the Makaras and
then wheeling halfway across town to drop off Rufi. That had only kept him out
until just before midnight, but he'd felt too restless to go right home. He
solved his problem by driving out to the lake and smoking nearly a pack of
cigarettes before leaning back on the hood of his car and dozing off. When he'd
woken next, it had felt like hours, but it was still dark, and the light of the
moon on his watch told him that it had only been about twenty minutes. As he
got back into the car and prepared to drive off, he was filled with some
strange feeling that he'd been in the middle of a dream that he could no longer
remember. He thought Rufi might have been in it, distraught about something,
but every time he tried to concentrate, to remember what was so horrible, the
details slipped farther away, vanishing like smoke.
Whatever it was, it didn't resurface in his later dreams. He parked quietly
just outside of the house and crept in as sneakily as he could, taking off his
shoes before creeping up the stairs even though his shoes were already quiet.
Once he was sure he was in the clear, he shimmied out of his jeans and jacket
and fell across his bed, losing himself to sleep. This time, he remembered his
dream.
It felt like a school dance, although everyone seemed to him to be adults—not
just in the legal sense, but in the responsibility sense. Even Kurloz and
Gamzee made an appearance, both of them surprisingly lucid, but everyone,
everyone from school, glared at him. It was like he had personally committed a
grievous offense against each and every one of them. Except a young man with a
red sweater, who simply looked at him with a curious expression before smiling.
It was a nice smile, too, and even though everyone else there seemed to hate
him, he found himself smiling back, not even realizing who it was smiling at
him in the first place.
Now, of course, he realized, and it had come over him all at once. "Fuck," he
muttered. "What a stupid fuckin' dream." There was no way Kurloz or Gamzee
would ever hate him, and there was no way Kankri Vantas would ever smile at
him. Not like that, anyway. Even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, that
last part made something in his stomach twist uncomfortably.
===============================================================================
"What a lovely sermon, dear," Kaylah said happily, raising her voice to be
heard over the sound of bacon sizzling. "You had them praising the Spirit with
every word!"
"They're easily swayed. Come tomorrow, they'll be heathens again." Karter
peered over the Sunday paper to look carefully at his sons. "And what did you
take away from what I had to say?"
Kankri spoke up first—he was, after all, the firstborn, and he doubted Karkat
would have much to say, anyway. "It was enlightening, Father. And quite right,
of course." He knew he had to tread carefully here. After all, he hadn't even
mentioned the upcoming school elections to his parents yet. "In fact, I've seen
a lot of the same corruption you described in our very school. The senior class
especially seems to treat their last year of secondary education as some sort
of hedonistic party. But I've been considering what you've said, and I think I
have the opportunity to make a difference. You see, I would like to run for
junior class president, and I believe I can make a real difference at the
school that way. What do you think?"
Karter slowly and deliberately folded his newspaper back up and set it on the
table next to his plate. "You were never interested in school politics before,"
he said in a tone that almost sounded suspicious.
"I didn't see the same problems in Louisiana as I see here," Kankri replied,
suddenly feeling like he was losing ground fast.
"Is this about impressing that Maryam girl?"
"Karter," Kaylah said gently. "There's nothing wrong with Porrim. And besides,
she's a senior, and a pleasant girl, after all. And her mother is a vital
pillar of the church. Why, I bet she's home with her mother and sister now,
reading Bible verses."
Kankri didn't bother to correct her.
"And Kankri is a fine young man. Why shouldn't he try to make a difference at
school? Who knows? He has the potential to accomplish something great there."
Karter's suspicious gaze shifted to Kaylah, as though he thought she were in on
this. "Did he say something about this to you?"
"No, dear," Kankri's mother replied mildly, "but I do think it's a wonderful
idea. Kankri is a born leader, after all. He gets that from your side of the
family."
Karter eyed her for another long moment before he looked again at Kankri.
"Well, I suppose some good may come of this. Very well. You may pursue your
place in this school election. I pray for God's blessing upon you as you
undertake this daunting task." Without another word, he shook his newspaper
open again and resumed reading.
Kankri shot his mother a grateful look, and she winked back at him. She'd
helped him gain his father's approval to run. The hard part was over. After
this, the actual election would be a piece of cake.
===============================================================================
Cronus had cleaned up his bowl and spoon and gotten himself presentable before
his parents and brother returned. He'd even decided to get into his parents'
good graces early by setting the table on the back patio for brunch—when the
weather was nice, as it was now, this was where they preferred to take their
weekend meals. After all, the less his parents had to complain about with him,
the better, right?
When he heard raised voices in the front yard from where he sat in the
backyard, though, he had a feeling that maybe his efforts were wasted.
"—the sheer, appalling grotesqueness of such a display!"
"Who would do such a thing?"
"Someone with no respect for a decent, Christian society, that's who!"
Oops. He'd thought that Reverend Vantas might have cleaned off the doors of the
church before the congregation arrived, but apparently not. He hauled himself
to his feet—now wearing shoes—and met his family in the foyer. "Mornin'," he
said cheerily, as though he hadn't clearly heard their conversation from the
patio. "How was church?"
"Someone defaced the church last night!" his father roared, causing Cronus to
take a step back in what he hoped was believable surprise.
"Defaced the church? What do you mean? Someone painted rude things on it, or—"
"Some hooligans threw eggs at the front of the church! The Vantas family got
there early this morning, and that Maryam woman, Dolora, said that she'd seen
the vandals actually doing it!"
His mother took over since Mr. Ampora was quickly becoming too enraged to be
coherent. "Dolora telephoned the police, of course, and they arrived quickly,
but not quickly enough. The vandals drove away before the police got there, and
I don't think they ever found them. Dolora said, though, that she thought it
looked like a small group of teenagers. Four or five of them, from the sound of
the awful racket they were making. They woke up nearly the whole neighborhood."
Behind their parents, Eridan smirked at Cronus. His little brother was smarter
than he gave him credit for. Eridan clearly knew it was The Lost Boys
responsible for it.
"I can't believe anyone would actually throw eggs at a church," Cronus said,
sounding as affronted as he could manage. "It's so disrespectful. It's such a
terrible thing that a few crazy cats are makin'[ the rest of us levelheaded
teenagers look like a band a' punks."
Eridan rolled his eyes, as if to say, Laying it on a bit thick, are we?
"I wholeheartedly agree," his mother said. "Come on, Kristo, let me take your
hat. You go sit down and I'll fix us some brunch. Cronus, Eridan, can you boys
set the back table?"
"Already took care a' that, Ma," Cronus said cheerfully.
His parents and brother all looked at him in surprise.
"What? I woke up a little earlier this mornin'. I can be productive sometimes."
His parents exchanged glances. "Well," his mother said slowly, "I suppose I'll
just get started on brunch, then. Go and sit down outside, Kristo. I should be
done in a half an hour or so."
Cronus and Eridan followed their father out to the patio, but Kristo didn't sit
down. He stared out into the backyard for a few moments before heaving a sigh
and draping his suit jacket over the back of his customary chair. There were
sweat stains sticking his previously-crisp dress shirt to his torso, but he
didn't seem to notice.
"I just can't believe someone would be so indecent, so disrespectful, to do
something like that. You know, I didn't want to believe it, but I think
Reverend Vantas is right about your generation." His father turned to face
Cronus. "He said during his sermon today that your generation is full of lazy,
disrespectful people with no common courtesy and who only want to cause trouble
for its own sake. You're a prime example of that. Look at how you dress, the
slimeballs you hang out with, the way you act! I wouldn't be surprised to find
out it was you and your good-for-nothing friends who desecrated the church last
night. I'm ashamed to call you my son."
So much for getting on their good side.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Notes
     Oh, hey, look, it's my favorite secret ship. This wasn't supposed to
     happen but then it did so whatever.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Rufioh crumpled and uncrumpled the piece of paper in his hands for what felt
like the hundred and fiftieth time that night. It was Damara's number, and even
though he knew he was supposed to call her—somehow it had been decided that
they were together now—he was still nervous. He didn't know what he was going
to say to her. Still, he desperately wanted to be normal, and if it meant he
had to fumble through this awkwardness, so be it. He dug a quarter out of his
pocket, shut himself into the phone booth, slid the coin into the slot, and
dialed her phone number.
It rang for nearly twenty seconds—Rufioh's heart getting lighter and lighter as
he realized that maybe she wouldn't answer—before the other line picked up.
"Hello?" a female voice said breathlessly.
It wasn't Damara, he could tell right away. The voice was a little higher, and
Rufioh seemed to recall that Damara had a younger sister. This was probably
her, then. "Um, hey. This is, um, Rufioh. Rufioh Nitram. I-is Damara there?"
"Sure," the voice said, suddenly amused. "Hold on." The phone was set down and
the same voice was now heard at a distance, calling, "Damara, it's for
youuuuuuu," in an obnoxious sing-song tone. After that, there were a few
seconds of unintelligible murmurs, an excited-sounding squeak, and then the
clatter of the receiver as it was picked up—frantically, probably.
"Rufi?"
"Uh, hey, doll. It's me."
"I was hoping you'd call," Damara said, sounding excited while trying not to
sound too excited. She still had to play it cool, after all.
Rufioh swallowed. "Well, I did. So, um, how was your weekend?"
That seemed to be the only invitation Damara needed. Without further prompting,
she launched into a detailed account of the previous day and a half. The story
culminated in a scandalized-sounding recitation of an attack on a Baptist
church, and it took Rufioh a second to remember that he'd been behind that.
Well, he and the other Lost Boys, anyway. "Sounds terrible, doll. What'd they
do about it?"
"Well, Reverend Vantas left it up until after the service because he wanted it
to act as a testament to the depravity of today's youth. But I think it got
cleaned up afterward."
"Oh. That's good, then." He swallowed hard and turned around so he wasn't
facing the rest of the phone. The sun was setting just above the tree line and
in the phone booth, he felt strangely disconnected, like he was merely watching
everything around him, not actually participating. "I take it that was the most
excitin' part of the weekend."
"Of course not," Damara said. "As a matter of fact, the most exciting part was
hanging out with you."
He was listening from a distance; her words barely sank in, more floating on
the surface of his mind without being absorbed. A blue pickup truck roared by,
and for one fleeting moment, he and the driver locked eyes. Then the truck was
rumbling into the distance, and Horuss Zahhak was out of sight. He was seized
with a crazy impulse to chase after him, but his knees seemed frozen and
refused to move. For that instant, he'd actually felt peaceful.
"Rufi? Are you still there?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, doll. I thought someone out here was tryin' to get my
attention."
"Oh. So you didn't hear what I said?" she asked, sounding disappointed.
He mentally backtracked. "No, sorry, I heard you. Me—mine, too. Hangin' out
with you was great," he said. He hoped it didn't sound too forced.
"Really?" she gushed. He guessed he seemed convincing. That, or she was so
desperate to believe he returned her feelings that she would swallow basically
anything he said, no matter how insincere he sounded.
He felt horrible for her. "Really, doll." For a moment, he considered telling
her the truth, being brutally honest. Damara, I have to tell you. I'll never be
able to love you the way you deserve to be loved. It's not you or anything you
did, doll. It's me. Please don't cry, Damara. I promise you didn't do anything
wrong. It's just that, the way I'm supposed to feel about girls... I don't. I
like boys.
He couldn't tell her. She would scream. She would cry. She would call him a
freak, a monster. He turned back to the phone dial and cupped his forehead in
his free hand.
"Aw, you're so sweet. Thanks, doll," she said, clearly trying his own flirting
tactic on him.
He chuckled nervously, and in attempt to hide it, he said, "So, I guess I'll
see you tomorrow at school, huh?"
She laughed. "Well, yeah, I was planning on going. But it's still early—think
maybe we could meet up tonight? I have no problem sneaking out," she added in a
conspiratorial tone.
"M-my dad actually won't let me, an' we have like a hundred dogs so sneakin'
out really isn't an option," he lied quickly.
"Oh." She sounded disappointed, but then her voice brightened. "Well, alright,
then. I'll see you tomorrow, Rufi!"
"Yeah, doll. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up quickly and hurried out of the
phone booth, but once the cool evening air washed over his face and he didn't
feel so confined, he slowed down and walked to the curb where he sat down and
dug a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket.
He was down to his last three. He eyed them for a moment and sighed. He didn't
know when he was going to be able to buy another pack, so it was best to
conserve them while he could. He put the pack away and stared off at the trees,
barely noticing the loud rumbling approaching.
He'd walked to the phone booth from his house, a nearly two-mile trek. He'd
wanted the time to clear his head and he especially wanted the privacy away
from his house, his father, his brother, and a hundred yapping bulldogs. He
didn't want to go back, either. He was calm out here in the open, suddenly-
quiet air. He could breathe out here. Away from his father's lingering
presence—beer and sweat and hands that were fists more often than not—he felt
safe, safer than he did at home.
Although he did wish Tink were here, at least.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Here, no one would bother him.
"Rufioh?"
His eyes flew open and he twisted around. No fuckin' way. Horuss Zahhak had
reappeared with that truck of his, now parked about twenty feet behind Rufioh.
Horuss himself was out of the truck, looking at him from over the hood. Rufioh
hated the way his heart skipped a beat as he first locked eyes with Horuss. He
hoped his face wasn't turning red, although if it was, it was quickly becoming
too dark outside to tell.
"Hey, Horuss. We really have to stop meetin' like this," he joked to cover his
nerves as he stood up. He tugged nervously at his jacket and hoped Horuss
didn't notice.
"You do always seem to be stranded," he agreed with a small nod.
"Well, at least this time, it was by choice."
"It wasn't last time?"
"Well, Cronus was drivin' me home an' I told him to let me out, so... maybe it
was by choice both times." He shrugged, slowly walking toward him without
realizing it. "But I actually walked out here this time."
"You're still a fair distance from home," Horuss pointed out.
"True, but I had a phone call to make an' I didn't want to do it at home. You
know little brothers," he half-joked. He loved Tavros to death, of course, but
sometimes he just needed his space.
"I do know. My younger brother is a sophomore this year."
"I didn't know you had a younger brother."
Horuss nodded. "Yes. Equius is on the wrestling team, as a matter of fact."
"Heh. Tavros takes Home Ec." He immediately felt guilty—it almost sounded like
he was making fun of his brother, and he'd never do that.
"A very useful skill set to have," Horuss said solemnly. "I wish I'd had the
chance to take it, but considering the schedule I've had since my freshman
year, it's been virtually impossible to fit it all in."
Rufioh felt a little better. Apparently, Horuss really wasn't a raging jackass.
He actually was as nice as he seemed. That was an unusual quality to find in a
person. "Well, my dad wasn't too thrilled by it. He said, and I quote, 'Home Ec
is for pansies.'"
Horuss flinched. "Your father doesn't seem to be the most... enlightened
person, shall we say?"
"I'm used to it."
"Your eye looks a little better."
Reflexively, Rufioh touched the bruise. The purple was mostly fading, but there
was still tinges of yellow around his eye left. "I look like a horror show."
"I've seen worse. Although, sadly, not inflicted by a parent." Horuss blinked
and then started stuttering out, "My apologies—I just realized how that
sounded. That is to say, that's the worst I've—"
"I know what you meant," Rufioh said. He half-smiled. "Like I said, I'm used to
it. It's not a big deal."
Horuss looked down at the hood of his pickup for a minute. "If you'd like
another ride home, I would be more than happy to oblige. Although, I was just
on my way to dinner, so if you're hungry—"
"Thanks, but I can't really afford dinner out, an' I can't ask you to pay for
me. You barely know me—it ain't right."
Horuss nodded. "I suppose that's fair. But if you'd still like a ride home..."
"That, I won't say no to." Even though he would have loved going out to dinner
and spending more time with Horuss, he couldn't let himself get too close.
There was no point in falling for another man who wouldn't want him. A ride
home was all he would allow himself.
"Very well. Hop in."
Once Rufioh had slammed his door shut and settled back in the passenger's seat,
Horuss started the truck back up and they roared away from the parking lot.
"So who were you calling that required such secrecy?" Horuss paused. "I'm
sorry, I asked without thinking. That's none of my business."
"I don't mind, really. It was Damara Megido."
"Damara? She's one of the... Fuchsia Ladies, correct? That's what they call
themselves?"
"Yeah." Rufioh chuckled. "That's them. An' yeah, she's one of them."
"I see. So I suppose that means the two of you are going steady?"
"I... well, we went out on Friday night. An' I know she likes me a lot. An'
she's great an' all, she really is. An' I guess everyone thinks that's what
we're gonna do, so I guess I'll ask her, but really, I don't feel that way
about her."
"I'm sorry. It's difficult to find a meaningful connection with someone. And to
add to that, the pressure of doing what others think you should do with no
consideration for whether it's really the right thing for you. I don't envy
you."
"I guess you have that problem too, then, huh?"
"I find that people are often intimidated by me. I'm told I can be very
intense." He almost sounded mournful as he said it.
"Intense isn't bad," Rufioh protested, and then nearly smacked himself. The
last thing he wanted was Horuss getting uncomfortable with him. If Rufioh
sounded like he was flirting with him, that would probably be a good way to do
it.
What looked like a smile twitched at the corner of Horuss's mouth. "It's a
special sort of person who can tolerate my intensity."
It almost sounds like he's flirting back. Rufioh definitely noticed the gender-
neutral language, but maybe it was his own wishful thinking that was projecting
onto Horuss.
"Probably a bunch of high school kids can't appreciate it, though. Don't worry.
I'm sure someone out there thinks you're cool."
Horuss didn't answer for a few moments, and Rufioh started feeling awkward.
Maybe he'd said something wrong. Again. "Not to imply that you ain't cool or
anythin', but like..." He was sure he was turning red by now. "I mean, you are
cool, but like in a real unusual way, I guess." His face burned and he sank
farther down in the seat, wishing it would swallow him up.
"I suppose your assessment is correct. I am rather unusual." Horuss was half-
smiling again, and it made Rufioh feel a little better. "And you don't even
know the half of it yet."
"Oh, yeah?" Rufioh attempted a smirk. "Try me."
"Well, aside from my physical intensity, my personal beliefs are rather
unconventional. Most people find it off-putting."
"Unconventional how?"
Horuss tightened his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before relaxing
his grip. "I operate under the belief that how a person chooses to live their
life is their own business. For example, I have an older cousin who... well,
she's not interested in men. She currently lives with another woman, and from
what I understand, they're quite happy together. Most people I know would frown
on such an arrangement, if not outright condemn it, but the way I see it, they
aren't hurting anyone. They're happy. They're hardworking. And so it's no one's
place to judge them for what little happiness they can find in the world."
Rufioh felt lightheaded, nearly giddy. He'd never felt this kind of relief
before, knowing without a doubt that someone finally wouldn't judge him or call
him a freak. "I completely agree, actually. Just because a certain type a'
relationship ain't common doesn't mean it ain't worthwhile."
"Of course. And naturally, I think anyone who's brave enough to live
authentically as who they are deserves the utmost respect. No one should have
to live a lie."
Rufioh's eyes stung but he had no idea he was actually crying until Horuss,
sounding alarmed, said, "Are you alright?"
He wiped at his eyes quickly and nodded. "Yeah, I just... that's exactly what
I'm doin' with Damara. I know she doesn't deserve to be lied to like this, but
I feel like I got no other choice. Cro an' all them have been pushin' us
together an' she likes me a lot but I can't just tell her the truth, 'cause..."
"Because there's a good chance she won't understand," Horuss finished gently.
The truck rolled to a stop in front of Rufioh's house and he didn't want to get
out of the pickup, he just wanted to stay in here with Horuss and his warm,
soothing presence and his unconditional acceptance and his caring blue eyes
that were locked right on him. "I understand. Right now, in high school and
with everyone as judgemental as they are, it's not the wisest choice to live
openly."
"I don't care if I have to keep it a secret. I just want to be with the guy
that makes me happy." His chest felt like an expanding balloon as he said it,
finally admitted out loud the awful truth. Next to Horuss, though, it didn't
feel so awful.
"So do I," Horuss murmured.
Did he just say that, or did I dream it? Rufioh wondered, jerking his head up
to stare at him. He was pretty sure he'd actually heard it, but it still had a
dreamlike quality to it, especially with Horuss meeting his gaze like that.
Even in the nearly-full dark of dusk, he could still see how incredibly blue
Horuss's eyes were, how full of concern and maybe even hope.
Something in his expression must have been the signal that Horuss was looking
for, because he leaned in close, cupped Rufioh's cheek, and murmured, "I hope
this is okay."
Rufioh nodded, one quick jerk of his head, and then Horuss's lips were on his.
This kiss was nothing like the awkward, forced passion of Damara's kisses. It
was slow and sweet, tender and just a little bit hesitant, as though both of
them were worried about scaring the other away. Rufioh's hand found its way
into Horuss's hair and he gently twisted his fingers through the long, silky
strands. His heart thudded hard against his ribs when Horuss gasped quietly
into his mouth and their tongues met, skimming over lips and teeth, and he knew
without a doubt that this felt right, he'd been made for this, he'd been made
for Horuss.
And maybe, Horuss had been made for him too.
There was an aching sort of relief in knowing he was safe here, in Horuss's
arms. He never wanted to let go; he just wanted to stay here with Horuss
forever, in this truck that smelled like Horuss did, like kindness and strength
and reassurance. This heady mix of emotions flooding through him, anchoring
him—this was what his first kiss should have been like. But at least it was his
first kiss with another guy, so he would count that a success.
Horuss's pulse was galloping just like his—he could feel it with his hand
cupping Horuss's neck. His fingertips traced up, into Horuss's hairline, and
the kiss suddenly intensified, the bigger boy suddenly out of his seat and
closing the distance between their bodies, and Rufioh fell back against the
passenger door, half on the seat and half off, and somehow his legs were spread
open and Horuss was between them, pressing against him, and oh, God, he was so
hard and Horuss's bulge rubbed against his thigh through two layers of denim
and he wanted this, he wanted it so bad, he whined and jerked his hips up
against Horuss's and he felt so dirty but he wanted to do it again, he wanted
to pull both their jeans off and feel their skin pressed together, gliding
across each other, he wanted to lose himself to Horuss, he wanted Horuss so
bad—
"We have to stop," Horuss said hoarsely.
Rufioh blinked up at him. Both their shirts were riding up and his jacket had
almost been pushed down his arms. "Huh?"
"We're in a rather public area, and in front of your house, moreover." Horuss
gently pulled back, letting Rufioh sit up. "I apologize. I don't know what came
over me. I'm usually more controlled than that."
The cold weight of dread settled in Rufioh's chest. Horuss regretted kissing
him. He was a mistake. A momentary loss of control. "Sorry," he mumbled,
tugging his shirt down and his jacket on. "Thanks for the ride home." He popped
the door open and practically fell out of the truck.
"Rufioh, wait, please."
The sadness in Horuss's voice was what made him pause and turn around. "Yeah?"
"Please, don't think I regretted that. The only thing I regret was kissing you
in so public a place. Believe me, Rufioh, if we had had the right level of
privacy, I might not have been able to stop kissing you. Unless you told me to,
that is."
He half-smiled, the tension in his chest easing. "I don't think that would have
happened."
"All the same."
Rufioh gave him a full smile now. "So all we have to do is find privacy? I
think I can find some a' that."
With Horuss's returning smile still brightening the dark places in his mind,
Rufioh turned and strolled up to his house. Horuss's truck didn't pull away
until after the door had closed behind him.
Chapter End Notes
     Every time you think I made a horse pun, you are right.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The first indication Kankri had that something was funny here was when he
nearly got caught by a gaggle of cheerleaders waving their red-and-violet pom-
poms in his face. Porrim, mercifully, was not among them, and he buzzed over to
her, tossing his books down on the table she was sitting at, leaving Karkat to
fend for himself.
"What's got them all hyped up?" he asked with a cautious glance toward the
cheerleaders, who had by now accosted another group—it looked like a pair of
blond guys and a dark-haired girl.
"Homecoming, remember?" Porrim said sullenly. "That's what the bonfire-slash-
pep rally on Friday was all about—which you would have known if you'd actually
paid attention."
Oops. He did vaguely remember that now. "Yeah, well, I had other things on my
mind."
"Fair enough. I imagine they'll be making some kind of announcement about it
during homeroom again this morning. The game will be Saturday after next and
the dance will be that evening."
Drat! He'd forgotten about homecoming involving both a football game and a
dance. He'd never been to a homecoming dance, of course, his father being
expressly against such frivolity, but then again, his parents had agreed to let
him and Karkat go to the bonfire... So maybe there was a chance now.
Not that he was so sure he really wanted to go—unless he went alone, he didn't
really know any girls yet. At least, aside from Porrim, and she probably had
had a homecoming date lined up for months now.
Of course, a couple of the other girls he'd met on Friday were viable
candidates. Porrim's sister Kanaya seemed nice, and although Rose gave him the
creeps a little, she would still be good company. "I suppose my father will
take a little convincing to allow me to go."
"Just tell him you're going with me," Porrim suggested.
"Am I?"
Porrim shrugged. "If you want to go with me, sure. I don't usually go
homecoming or prom, but if you feel like going for the full high school
experience and need a date, I'll accompany you."
Kankri let out a relieved sigh. Well, that solved one problem. "That sounds
nice, actually. I suppose now I'll have to prepare a suit."
"That would be nice."
===============================================================================
 
"Oh, yeah, homecomin'!" Cronus said excitedly, taking note of all the bubbly-
looking cheerleaders as they watched Tavros and Eridan slink off into the
building, trying to avoid the previously-mentioned cheerleaders. "Good thing at
least two of us will be able to find dates."
It took Rufioh a full three seconds to realize he was referring to Damara, not
Horuss. He felt his face heating up. "Yeah. I mean, I might not even go,
though."
"What?" Cronus sounded scandalized. "You have to—I'm not goin' to that shitshow
without at least one of the Lost Boys comin' with me! You know neither a' the
Makaras are gonna be able to get dates," he added.
He had a point, too. He supposed he'd also feel awkward if he went to the dance
without any of his friends there. Unfortunately for him, that meant he was
going to have to put up with Damara's affections for the whole night. "Yeah, I
guess you're right."
"What? I thought you woulda been happy to be goin' to the dance with Damara.
All you gotta do is ask, an' I'm sure she'll say yes."
"Yeah, but dances... Cro, they ain't really my style. That's all. Plus I might
not be able to afford a ticket, an' Damara's family ain't much better off than
mine." Actually, he thought they might have been even worse off—her father had
walked out on the family six years ago, leaving her mother to raise Damara and
Aradia alone. He'd definitely noticed how threadbare some of her sweaters were
getting.
"If you agree to come along, I'll pay for your ticket—an' Damara's, too, since
she's almost guaranteed to say yes."
Rufioh felt like a freeloader, but it wasn't the first time Cronus had paid his
way for things. It most likely wouldn't be the last, either. He was just the
tiniest bit jealous of how he was able to just throw money around like it was
no big deal—now that the edge had worn down off his crush on him, he could see
that.
Horuss will probably be going, he reminded himself, and for a second, he felt
himself brightening. Until he remembered that Horuss would almost certainly
have a date, and Rufioh would have to watch some girl hanging on him all night.
That was a little upsetting, so he distracted himself with a momentary fantasy
of being Horuss's date himself. Of course, the very idea of the two of them
going to homecoming together was utterly ridiculous, but it was still nice to
think about. Horuss towered over him, nearly as tall as Kurloz's ungainly six
feet four inches, but he imagined they'd still have a nice dance or two. And
then, when they picked the homecoming king, it would be—
"Hang on—you only wanna go to homecomin' since you think you're gonna get
picked for homecomin' king," Rufioh said accusingly.
Cronus shrugged sheepishly, flashing his teeth in a blinding grin. "I mean,
Meenah's a shoe-in for homecomin' queen, so it would only make sense that her
date be the most likely candidate for king."
"I thought you weren't into this school spirit-type crap," Rufioh grumbled.
"I ain't, but any excuse I can get to show off this gift to humanity..." He
motioned to his face.
Rufioh rolled his eyes. His stomach still fluttered a bit whenever he looked at
Cronus, but it felt a little like the veil had been lifted and he had a better
look at who Cronus really was. Had he always been like this, or was Cronus just
in a strange kind of mood today? It could have been the excitement of
homecoming on the way, he supposed.
He didn't really have time to ponder it for much longer since right then, the
Makara-mobile rolled up next to them. Cronus hopped off the trunk and went to
go knock on Kurloz's window and make a face at him.
A cigarette already clenched between his teeth, Kurloz rolled down his window
and waved. "What's up, motherfucker? Hear anything?"
"You mean about this weekend?" Cronus looked around to make sure they weren't
being overheard. "Nothing officially, but I think my parents suspect us. I
don't think anyone else is smart enough to have figured it out, though. What
about you?"
Kurloz shrugged. "My ol' man an' ol' lady ain't exactly the church-goin' types.
I don't think they know. Rufi?"
He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "My ol' man doesn't give a shit about
anything."
"Then I guess we're in the clear," Cronus said. "Hey, so check it out.
Homecomin's comin' up—either a' you think you'll be able to get dates?"
Rufioh couldn't see Gamzee's face, but Kurloz's eyebrows shot up into his
hairline. "I—wow, I dunno, motherfucker, maybe? I wouldn't know who to up an'
motherfuckin' ask, though. None a' the Fuchsia Ladies want anythin' to do with
me, an'—"
"Good point," Cronus said. "I mean, you could ask Aranea, but she'd probably
say no."
"I wasn't really plannin' on goin'," Gamzee said.
"If I motherfuckin' go, it'll probably be stag."
"Well, at least me an' Rufi here'll have dates." Cronus glanced back at him for
a moment, but the bell rang before he could say anything else on the subject.
"Homeroom," Rufioh muttered, picking up his books and hopping off the trunk of
Cronus's car.
Well, if anything, he would have a good excuse to ask Damara to homecoming this
morning.
===============================================================================
 
Meenah was immediately suspicious when Cronus swaggered into science class with
his jacket hooked on his fingertips. He had a smirk on his face that indicated
nothing but bad intentions on his part. "Oh, boy," she heard Damara mutter
sarcastically. Meenah just shuffled her deck of cards to keep her hands
occupied until he finally sat down across from her.
"Where's your sidekick?" she asked, snapping the cards and pushing them back
together.
"Oh, he'll be here soon," Cronus said dismissively. "So, homecomin' in a couple
a' weeks."
"Well netted. They've only been glubbin' about it during mornin' announcements
for the last week."
"I get distracted easily—I can't help it. But look, I was wonderin', you wanna
come with me to homecomin'?"
Meenah sighed, setting the deck down on the lab counter. She supposed she
didn't have any real reason to say no—after all, Cronus was still her best bet
for a socially fulfilling senior year, he was hot, and he was rich. Even if the
thought of Aranea's face when she told her who her homecoming date was going to
be made he feel a little guilty, she pushed it down. After all, who'd ever
heard of two girls going to homecoming together?
And besides, she wasn't even sure that she would want to go with Aranea anyway,
even if it wasn't weird. At least kissing Cronus was simple—her kiss with
Aranea was confusing and complicated. She liked it, but that was the truly
confusing part, because she'd liked kissing Cronus, too. Was that even
possible?
But she didn't want to think about that right now. "Yeah, okay. I guess it
won't be so bad."
"Really diggin' your enthusiasm, angelfish," Cronus said sarcastically.
"Clam it. I said I'd go, didn't I?" Of course, that she drew her attention to
Damara, who was anxiously rocking back and forth on her chair, sitting on her
hands. Her eyes were glued to the door, and Meenah knew she must have been
waiting for Rufioh to walk in.
The bell rang a few moments later and the teacher closed the door. Rufioh still
hadn't shown up. Idly wondering where he could have gotten off to, she began
dealing for another round of poker.
===============================================================================
 
Karkat found himself in the lunch line behind a girl with the squeakiest voice
he'd ever heard—and that was counting that Nepeta girl he'd caught drawing him
last week. (He still hadn't quite gotten over the weirdness of that.) Her dark
hair was bobbed short, and her red-framed glasses curved sharply upwards. They
almost looked like those cat-eye glasses that a lot of girls wore now, but hers
were much thinner and sharper. They could probably put someone's eye out. She
was talking to another girl with an olive-green shirt on—and when she turned
around, he realized it was Nepeta.
Of course, when she turned, she caught sight of him, too, and she practically
pounced, grabbing the other girl by her arm to turn her around, too. "Hey,
Karkat! This is my friend Terezi! Terezi, this is Karkat, from my math class!"
"Uh, hi?" Karkat said. He suddenly remembered her—they'd talked briefly at the
bonfire. He'd completely forgotten with all the fire and brimstone his father
had blasted the day before. Besides, he was bad with faces. At least she looked
happier now than she had then. She didn't remember her voice being that high-
pitched on Friday, though.
Terezi grinned, and it might have been a trick of the light, but her teeth
looked very sharp. "Hey, Karkat. I remember you. We met at the bonfire. You're
the preacher's son, right?"
He was never going to get away from this, was he? The school was so big, it
would be weeks or even months before he met everyone. He wished he could just
stand in the middle of the cafeteria and scream, "YES, I AM THE FUCKING
PREACHER'S SON, NOW STOP ASKING ME THAT!"
He wouldn't, of course—the principal would no doubt rat him out to his parents
and he didn't relish the feeling of his father's belt again. "Yeah, that's me,"
he grumbled.
"Hey, if you don't have anyone else to sit with, you can sit with us, if you
want!" Nepeta said excitedly. She plopped a paper-wrapped sandwich onto her
lunch tray while Terezi reached for a banana. "I'm sure Terezi won't mind, and
it sure beats eating alone!"
He picked up a tray of his own and shuffled after the girls. It was nice that
he wasn't being completely ignored, he decided. This was the most interaction
he'd had with anyone outside of his family—aside from at the bonfire, at least.
He tried to avoid talking to the other churchgoers if he could help it. "On one
condition: you don't ask about my parents or Louisiana. This place sucks, and
that's all you need to know about it."
"Deal!" Nepeta reached for two cupcakes and slid one onto Karkat's tray while
he grabbed a slice of pizza. "So what kind of hobbies do you have? You already
know I like to draw, and Terezi here is on the debate team."
"I'm gonna be a lawyer, just like my mom," Terezi said.
It was a fair question, and one he hadn't really been prepared to answer. "I
guess I like reading. Not the Bible—I've read it a hundred times and it all
just seems like a lot of bullshit to me. But I have pretty much everything F.
Scott Fitzgerald ever wrote hidden under my bed."
"Why hidden?"
"Are you crazy? If my father knew I was reading such immoral books, he'd—" He
closed his mouth abruptly and glanced out one of the windows. It overlooked the
back lawn of the school, and all the green somehow calmed him down a bit. As an
older student with what looked like bright red hair crossed the lawn with his
books cradled in his arms, Karkat finished, "Well, it wouldn't be pretty."
"So what's your favorite book?"
He reached for a milk carton. "This Side of Paradise. It's... it's
complicated." He followed Nepeta and Terezi to the cashier and waited to pay.
Thankfully, the conversation switched around to other things—apparently, the
girls had been friends for a few years now and they were planning to go to the
movies over the weekend. He didn't catch the name of the movie they planned to
see, but he couldn't help feeling a bit jealous that neither of them had issues
with parental permission. He couldn't just decide to do something and then do
it without his father making a big deal of it, which was why he'd spent the
entire summer honing his technique in sneaking out of the house.
Sometimes, it felt like his father didn't even want him—or Kankri—to make
friends. But at least Kankri had a friend in Porrim Maryam. Karkat was pretty
sure that Kanaya didn't care one way or the other about him. So if he had to
make friends with Nepeta and Terezi to fit in, so be it.
At least with Nepeta's persistent curiosity, they never ran out of things to
talk about.
Chapter End Notes
     Happy Hanukkah. I know it's been a LONG time since I updated last,
     but here it is: chapter 22. If I'd started this out not knowing who
     my primary pairing was going to be, I might be shifting it to being a
     primarily Rufioh/Horuss fic because there is not enough of those two.
     However, this is still mostly about Cronus and Kankri (Rufuss is a
     major secondary one. I'm not even sure EriSol is going to make it in
     here! According to chapter count, we're nearly halfway through, and I
     still don't have all my ships set up!)
     So in terms of the story, I'll probably be skipping weeks or so at a
     time or skimming over portions of the timeline (otherwise, this could
     end up like the Coming to Terms series--75 chapters in part one and
     the end of part 2 nowhere in sight). In terms of writing, I'm going
     to try to publish two chapters a week for awhile. My schedule's
     getting tight since I'm leaving my current command around the middle
     or end of April, and I'll be arriving at my next command at the end
     of May (I'm going to Japan!). Expect nothing in May since I'll be on
     leave most of that time and busy. After April, updates will most
     likely resume in June.
     Finally, some of you know this, but I've realized that I'm not a cis
     woman or simply non-binary. I identify now as transmasculine, I use
     the pronouns he/him/his, and I go by Evan and Alex (since my name,
     once I actually change it, will be Evan-Alexander). So yeah. Thanks
     to everyone for sticking by me and waiting the nearly a year for this
     update. Sheesh.
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
He knew it was a bad idea to skip class, but he also didn't really feel like
spending fifty minutes around Cronus and Damara. Meenah wasn't the greatest
company either, but at least she wasn't so... involved with his life. Cronus
was his best friend and former crush, and Damara was his sort-of almost
girlfriend (he shuddered internally when he remembered that), but Meenah was
still free from all that associated drama. Besides, with both Cronus and Damara
present (and knowing that Cronus had probably already asked Meenah to be his
homecoming date), there would be way too much pressure on him to ask Damara to
be his date.
So he headed outside and slunk under the bleachers. His intention was to stay
there until lunch and make up some bullshit excuse about feeling sick or
something when Cronus asked about it later (and he was sure to ask about it),
but his plan was interrupted when he heard the sound of a radio playing. It
sounded like Bill Haley, but he couldn't be sure. He climbed to his feet and
followed the sound toward one of the back buildings.
"...I said shake, rattle, and roll,
I said shake, rattle, and roll,
I said shake, rattle, and roll,
I said shake, rattle, and roll,
Well, you never do nothin'
To save your doggone soul."
Definitely Bill Haley. He'd heard this song a few times on the radio over the
summer.
It was coming from behind a slightly-ajar door, along with the sound of metal
on metal—he thought he heard a wrench tightening down a bolt, and something
else being dropped onto concrete. Rufioh pushed open the door and was hit by a
wave of music.
It was the auto shop. He immediately caught sight of a blond someone with
sunglasses and his head bent over a popped hood, and someone else was
underneath the car itself on a dolly. He was pretty sure he knew who the blond
was—Dirk Strider, another senior. He didn't know who else was there, but he was
just backing out when he heard a dull thunk and an oddly-familiar voice yell,
"Fiddlesticks!"
Dirk, already bent over, dropped his head to laugh. "Just cuss like a normal
person, would you? What happened?"
The guy under the car rolled out with a quick jerk of his leg. "Cursing is
uncouth," he said, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and beginning to wipe
his hands as he sat up, his back against the car door. "And I dropped my
wrench. On my forehead."
It was Horuss. All of Rufioh's instincts were suddenly firing, shouting at him
to get out of there, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. Horuss's eyes were a
brighter shade of blue than he'd seen—or maybe it was just seeing him in
daylight that made them seem brighter. He also had a pink blotch on his
forehead, probably where the wrench had hit him.
"Yeah, well, you should be more careful. Here." Dirk nudged the wrench with his
foot where it had fallen to the floor, kicking it toward Horuss.
That was when Horuss noticed Rufioh standing in the doorway. Rufioh couldn't
read his expression, but a moment later, Dirk followed his gaze to Rufioh as
well and an eyebrow quirked up.
"Rufioh, shouldn't you be in class?" Horuss asked, gingerly getting to his
feet. Rufioh didn't blame him—the dolly looked precarious at best.
He chuckled nervously. "It's only the second week. Not like I'll miss much.
Besides, it's boring." He's gonna think I'm stalking him. Just fucking great.
Part of him wanted to dash away and hide, and part of him wanted to hop up on
one of the counters and lurk until lunch. "Who's the teacher here?"
"Boxcar, in the back."
"Boxcar?"
Dirk half-giggled and half-snorted. "That's our nickname for him. His name is
Mr. Hart. But he lets us call him Boxcar."
Horuss half-smiled sheepishly. "I had actually forgotten his name was not
actually Boxcar."
"He ain't gonna care that I'm here, is he? I mean, this looks like a pretty
easy class."
Horuss shrugged, glancing at Dirk. "I don't believe so. He's usually rather
lenient about this sort of thing. Dirk's friend Jake has been known to drop by
the class from time to time."
Dirk quickly pushed up his sunglasses, probably in a feeble attempt to hide the
blush creeping across his face. "Only because he ain't supposed to be in class
right now—he's got study hall."
"I guess that makes sense," Rufioh said. He shifted his books in his arms,
trying to come up with something else to say, but having an audience only made
him nervous. He was afraid to say the wrong thing and end up embarrassing
himself or Horuss.
"And what class are you skipping?" Horuss asked.
"Science. Damara's there," he added by way of explanation.
Horuss nodded like he understood. "I see."
"Socket sets are in the back, right?" Dirk asked abruptly, fiddling with a
socket wrench.
"Yes. On the back shelf."
"Gotcha." Dirk headed quickly toward the back, and Rufioh was grateful.
"I didn't know you were back here," he said softly, once he figured the radio
could cover his voice.
"You didn't?" Horuss kept his voice low as well.
"No—I swear I'm not stalkin' you. I just heard the radio an' followed the
music. You just happened to be here."
"So you skipping class had nothing to do with wanting to spend time with me
instead of Damara?"
Rufioh was pretty sure he was turning as red as his hair, especially given the
sweet smile Horuss was giving him. Those blue eyes looked surprisingly
bright—not just because of the light, but because they were set against his
dark skin. "Well, I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I didn't actually
plan for—"
"It's alright. To be honest, I was hoping to speak with you today. I was a bit
worried that maybe, after last night—"
"What, that you scared me off?" Rufioh scoffed. "Hardly. Bein' able to talk to
someone about this without them judgin' me, an' then you..." He felt his cheeks
burning again. "Well, it was one of the best nights of my life."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"But honestly, I was kinda thinkin' that maybe I scared you off. I never... I
don't know. This is all new for me. An' maybe that's why I didn't wanna go to
class today—I didn't wanna see Damara. An' things with Cronus, well..."
"Such as?"
Rufioh chewed on his lip. "I had a crush on him for the longest time. I never
told him, an' I only got over it pretty recently, but he's been houndin' me all
mornin' about askin' Damara to homecomin' since he doesn't want to go with just
Meenah. I'm sure he's already asked her by now, an' I'm sure she already said
yes, an' Damara an' Meenah are friends, so I'm sure Damara's gonna be waitin'
for me to ask her to homecomin', too. It's a lot of pressure. I wish I could go
with you," he added quietly, not meeting Horuss's gaze.
"I—really?" Horuss's surprised tone made Rufioh look up, and he seemed pleased.
"I wish that, too. But since that's not really possible, you should ask Damara
anyway. I wasn't planning to go, but if you're going to be there, I could make
an exception."
It felt like a balloon was swelling in Rufioh's chest. "Well, when you put it
like that," he said with a laugh. "I guess you talked me into it."
Horuss smiled. "Good. And I was also wondering if, perhaps, you'd like to spend
some time with me outside of school?"
"You mean like, on an actual date?"
Horuss rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes."
A huge grin split across Rufioh's face. He impulsively went up on his tiptoes
to place a quick kiss on Horuss's lips. "I'd love to."
===============================================================================
By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class and the start of lunch,
Cronus had already accepted that Rufioh wasn't coming to class. He'd just
assumed that he'd gone home entirely (although why, he couldn't fathom) when
Rufioh appeared, heading from the back buildings.
The moment Damara caught sight of him, she began running her fingers through
her hair in a hopeless attempt to comb it. Rufioh didn't seem to mind,
though—he headed right toward her and caught her hands.
"Sorry I wasn't in class—I wasn't feelin' good. I'm better now," he added
quickly at her concerned expression. "Anyway, I was wonderin' if you wanted to
go to homecomin' with me."
Cronus was pretty sure he'd never seen Damara look so excited before. She
nodded frantically and threw her arms around Rufioh. "I'd love to!"
Cronus clapped him on the back. "Great! You're gettin' a ride with me, though,
since Rufi here don't have wheels of his own."
"Ah, shut up," Rufioh said good-naturedly.
To be honest, Cronus was a little relieved. He'd somehow thought that Rufioh
would punk out on asking Damara—he hadn't seemed too enthusiastic about the
idea earlier. But considering how comfortable Rufioh was now, he just chalked
it up to nerves. After all, Damara was his first girlfriend and his first
kiss—that was a lot to take in at once.
Together, they made their way to the cafeteria. Damara and Meenah began
comparing notes on their next class—algebra, which they had together—and
occasionally roping Rufioh into the conversation. Cronus noticed that Rufioh
kept his arm around Damara's waist the whole time. That was also a definite
improvement.
Cronus wasn't sure what he'd been doing during science class, but it had
obviously boosted his self-confidence.
Normally, he would have been making himself heard as much as possible, but
today he felt like taking a metaphorical step back to observe what was going
on. There were dozens of conversations going on around him, but for some
reason, the one he picked up on had the phrase "class elections" in them.
"...I really believe I can do some good for the junior class," the voice was
saying. "I just hope I can make them see by the time class elections roll
around."
"Well, you have three weeks," another voice responded. "I'm sure you'll think
of something. Unfortunately, most of my friends are seniors."
"That's perfectly alright. Besides, I need to earn their trust and respect on
my own merit. Not that I wouldn't mind such a stellar endorsement from a superb
upperclassman, but I can't fall back on you for everything. Besides, these
juniors are to be my constituents."
Cronus rolled his eyes. A cocky one, this one was. He looked around to see if
he could locate who was speaking, and his gaze landed on Porrim—and that
obnoxiously opinionated junior from his debate class. The preacher's kid. This
asshole was going to run for the junior class council?
Cronus had never entertained the notion of running for any positions on the
student council (aside from some idle daydreams as a freshman, but after his
bid for treasurer was quashed, he found his enthusiasm likewise ruined), but
even he knew that Vantas didn't stand a chance. Who'd really vote for the new
guy?
He shook his head and focused back on the conversation at hand—easier, because
Kurloz and Gamzee showed up a few moments later, and Aranea and Vriska shortly
thereafter. An interesting notion planted itself in his head, and he blurted
out, "Hey, Kurl, why don't you ask Aranea to homecomin'?"
The whole table stared at him—Aranea and Kurloz both horrified, and everyone
else amused. "Sorry, Cronus, but I'm not sinking that low," she said.
"I think that's the worst idea you've ever had," Vriska added, laughing. "And
no, I'm not going with Gamzee, before you ask."
He had thought it would be interesting for the Makaras and the Serkets to go
together, but based on the reaction, it was a bad suggestion. "Yeah, sorry."
"Yikes. That was awkward," Damara said.
"Super awkward," Rufioh agreed.
Surprisingly, Kurloz hadn't actually said anything in response. Cronus expected
something, but after that brief, shocked look, he'd gone right back to his
pizza. It wasn't uncommon for Kurloz to not talk much at school, but Cronus
figured he would have some kind of reaction.
"Well, never mind. I've just been so preoccupied with figurin' out how to soup
up my wheels, so..." It was a lame excuse. No one was going to buy it.
"You should talk to the cats in the auto shop class," Rufioh suggested. "Horuss
an' Dirk have a lot of good ideas."
With that, the girls started talking about their plans for the weekend, and the
tension was broken. Cronus could have kissed him, he was so relieved. "Who?
Dirk Strider, right?" That one, he knew. The Striders tended to stick out
around here.
"Yeah. An' Horuss Zahhak."
"He ain't a senior, is he?"
"Yeah, he is. He's on the wrestlin' team."
"Oh. That explains why I got no idea who the fuck he is. When's the class?
Maybe I could cut class one day an' drop by to see them."
Rufioh shifted in his seat. "Right before lunch, actually, so today's out."
"Durin' our science class?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sure I can skip that, then. Good idea."
"Roxy! Where have you been hiding?" Damara asked suddenly, quickly getting to
her feet.
Cronus glanced up as Damara threw her arms around the tipsy blond, who giggled
and hugged her back. "Y'know—here, there, an' pretty much anywhere."
He'd almost completely forgotten that Roxy was an official Fuchsia Lady. She
was in mostly advanced classes and so shared no classes with anyone else, and
she was in an almost constant state of inebriation. He didn't know what she had
in common with the rest of the girls, but they all made room for her whenever
she showed up, so it was clear she was still accepted by them.
"Don't you usually spend your lunches in the library?" Vriska asked.
"Yeah, or the science lab. I get free reign of all the chemicals," Roxy said
with another giggle. "But I got hungry today, so I figured I'd see what's
good."
Actually, Roxy seemed less drunk than Cronus remembered her—that, or her
alcoholic functioning was getting better. She barely slurred once.
"Whale, to answer your question, there ain't nofin good around here," Meenah
grumbled, picking at her sandwich."
"The pizza's pretty good," Damara argued.
"It's greasy as hell—it's gonna make you break out."
"Actually, I don't think—" Roxy started, but she was interrupted by the
feedback of the PA system and the principal announcing, "Good afternoon,
students. I apologize for interrupting your classes and lunch, but it is my
pleasure to announce that tickets for homecoming are officially on sale! Enjoy
the rest of your day!"
Cronus threw down the rest of his soda and stood up. "Alright, cats, I'll catch
you later. I got some tickets to buy."
Chapter End Notes
     Wait, is this not "The Rufioh and Horuss Story Hour"? God damn it.
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter Notes
     You get a double whammy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
While the rest of the student body was excited for the beginning of homecoming
ticket sales, the news Kankri had been waiting for came the next day: the
official registration for people running for student council positions. Karkat
still thought he was deluded for running, but Kankri signed up anyway. By the
time he got to the school office, there were already two other entrants for
junior class president—both of them students he didn't know. It was only the
first day, though, and registration would be open until Friday. He just hoped
the competition wouldn't get much steeper over the next three days.
He had other things on his mind, too—he still had to tell his parents he wanted
to go to homecoming with Porrim, and buy the tickets, and dig another dress
shirt out of his closet (he wouldn't wear the white one he always wore to
church). He was nervous about broaching the subject, especially with his
father, but he supposed the worst they could say was no, and he'd have to tell
Porrim she didn't have to go with him anymore.
It would probably be more of a money issue than anything else. Tickets were
five dollars each, or seven dollars for two. Porrim would probably offer to
cover her own $3.50, but as soon as his parents heard about that, they would
insist on paying the whole thing instead. Yikes.
But he wasn't one to put off unpleasantness for long, so once he and Karkat
arrived home on Tuesday, he immediately went to speak with his mother—his
father was most likely not home yet. He knocked gingerly on his parents'
bedroom door and said, "Mother?"
The door wasn't fully latched shut and so swung open under his knock. His
mother was inside, but to his surprise, she was sitting on the bedroom floor,
her legs tucked under her, a thick book that resembled a photo album in her
hands. There was a look of unfathomable sadness on her face. Her head jerked up
as the door opened, and she immediately slammed the book shut. "Kankri. What
are you doing?"
"Are you alright?" he asked, ignoring her question. "You look..." He couldn't
find the right word to convey how utterly melancholy and helpless she seemed.
She bit her lip and looked back down at the book in her hands. Without
answering, she flipped open and turned to a page. "Come here."
He went to sit down next to her. She had the book opened to a page that was
full of Vantases—his paternal grandparents on their wedding day in 1897, his
father as a boy, growing up, as an adult... along with another young man he'd
never seen before. He appeared in several pictures alongside his father.
"Mother, who is that?" he asked, pointing at a picture of his father standing
next to the other young man. Karter & Kalvin, Karter's graduation, 1929, the
caption read.
"That's your father and his brother," his mother replied quietly.
"I didn't know he had a brother."
"Kalvin died in 1938. The reverend doesn't like to talk about him, even with
me."
"What happened? He looks so young."
"He was only 26. There was an accident."
"I'm sorry."
His mother shook her head. "Never mind it. It's in the past. It doesn't matter
anymore." Suddenly brisk, she closed the book with a snap and slid it under the
bed, probably where it had hidden for years. "The reverend would be upset if he
knew I showed you that album, so don't mention it to him. We'll keep it our
little secret," she added with a small smile. It was betrayed by how red her
face was—it was clear that she'd been crying. "Now then, what was on your
mind?"
"Well, homecoming is coming up, and Porrim—"
"I see," she interrupted, her smile widening. "I'll see to it that you and
Porrim have a lovely time. Your father might take some convincing, but don't
worry—I'll handle him. How much are tickets?"
"Seven dollars for two."
"Of course." She elegantly rose to her feet and went to her dresser. When she
came back, she had a five-dollar bill and two one-dollar bills in her hand.
"Keep that in your wallet."
As soon as he'd pocketed the money, his mother embraced him. He was surprised
to realize that he was taller than her now—she was five-foot-four, and he was
getting dangerously close to five-foot-six. He didn't have high hopes for his
height since his father was barely five-foot-ten, but he knew he was only a few
months away from a growth spurt—he was only sixteen, after all.
"I love you, Kankri. I would do anything for you—I hope you know that."
"Of course," he said, slightly surprised. It wasn't that his mother wasn't
loving—she was—she just wasn't usually so affectionate. "I love you, too,
Mother."
===============================================================================
 
The next day, he was able to procure the homecoming tickets early in the day
and present them to Porrim during lunch. He found her out on the bleachers with
the other cheerleaders, watching a group of eight trying out for three open
spots on the squad.
"She's definitely gonna make it," Porrim said, gesturing with a fry to a girl
with dark, curly hair. "She's got the most talent out of any of these other
suckers. That one," she added, pointing at another, much smaller girl, with
light-brown hair, "is probably gonna make it, too. She's the sister of one of
the current cheerleaders, Meulin Leijon, so that'll probably tip the balance in
her favor. She's not bad, either. As for the rest of them..." She shrugged.
"So, how much convincing did your folks need to let you go to homecoming?"
"Not much," Kankri admitted. "I mentioned it to my mother and she was
immediately on board. She also said she'd take care of convincing my father, so
I didn't even have to do that."
"Impressive. I like it."
For the rest of the week, Kankri spent his time plotting, writing his campaign
speech to the junior classes, and trying to figure out how many posters he
should put up—as well as where to put them, and what they'd say. He figured
he'd go for something simple, like "Vote for Vantas! Junior Class President
'55-'56" but he wanted a second opinion on that. It helped that his debate
teacher offered to read over his completed speech and give him some pointers,
and it was also a happy coincidence that most of his plotting took place in the
library—he was able to keep out of the way of the gang of greasers.
They hadn't accosted him once (personally—he wasn't convinced they had nothing
to do with the egging of the church the previous week), but he still liked to
avoid them whenever possible. Especially considering the ringleader, Cronus
Ampora, was in his debate class, and Kankri always found himself oddly
distracted whenever Ampora was around. Of course, that was only because Kankri
was intimidated by him, but maybe it also was because he was a little bit in
awe of Ampora. He hated to admit it, but Ampora seemed to embody the careless
coolness of someone who didn't have to answer to anyone, and Kankri was a bit
jealous.
Ampora was handsome and rich and he didn't care at all what people thought of
him. Kankri wished he could be like that, too.
So he worked in the library, knowing he wouldn't be able to focus in debate
class, and hoped he could convince Porrim—and maybe Kanaya and Rose—to help him
with campaign posters. He certainly wouldn't be able to do it alone, and Karkat
would no doubt refuse to help him, either.
This weekend, he would focus entirely on his campaign.
===============================================================================
 
On Friday, Rufioh managed to avoid another awkward double-date with Cronus,
Meenah, and Damara by citing all the homework he had to make up (not an
outright lie—he already had a couple of overdue assignments, and their teachers
were starting to go harder on homework since it was the second week) and
promising he would try to make it out on Saturday night. Of course, the moment
the sun went down, he was out the door, heading to the Sunoco, waiting for
Horuss's truck to pull into the parking lot.
He was nervous. It was their first official date, and he was still in his
regular clothes (not that he had any idea what "date" clothes might consist
of). He also didn't know how he'd explain away the fact that he was hanging out
with a jock if they somehow ran into anyone they knew—maybe some excuse about
Horuss and car parts? It was flimsy so far, and he hoped he wouldn't have to
actually think of anything.
But he forgot to be nervous when Horuss pulled up next to him, reached across
the seats to pop open the door, and smiled at him. He climbed in and nearly
laughed—Horuss had left his letter jacket at home and traded it for a leather
one. "Nice threads."
"I figured two boys in leather jackets in a truck would cause slightly less
suspicion than if one of us still looked like a jock."
"Good idea. Where are we off to?" He couldn't imagine where they might be
going—surely nowhere in public.
"I figured that we could grab some food from a drive-in—"
"As long as it ain't the Freeze King. I think Cronus an' Meenah are there an'
if they see me, they're gonna be real suspicious, since I told them I wasn't
goin' out tonight."
"That's fair. Have you been to the Red Rocket near Columbus?"
Columbus was forty-five minutes away. Not terribly far, but far enough so that
people from Lakeside probably wouldn't be there. "Sounds good."
"My family also owns a farm out there. No one's there right now, so if you
wanted to, we could also stop by there."
Rufioh grinned. "I've never been cow-tippin'. Sounds like fun."
"We don't—" A look of comprehension crossed Horuss's face. "You were joking."
"Yeah."
"Of course." Horuss smiled. "Then let's be on our way."
"Ready when you are, doll."
The ride took too long and yet not long enough. Rufioh was hungry, having
anticipated that they would be getting dinner somewhere, but he also didn't
want to get there—it would be that much closer to when they had to come back.
The conversation flowed between them surprisingly easily. Rufioh talked about
his mother and how it had torn apart his family when she'd died—and then,
trying to keep things light, mentioned all the dogs his family owned. Horuss
told him about his hobbies, like building ham radios and other things with
circuits. It blew Rufioh's mind how such things were possible, but he reminded
himself that television sets existed and maybe twenty years ago, he would have
been astonished that those things worked. Either way, it was clear that Horuss
was surprisingly smart.
They ordered their food from the drive-thru before continuing out to Horuss's
family's farm. Even though he promised he wouldn't, he snuck a couple of fries
out of the bag when Horuss wasn't looking.
The farm consisted of the main house, a barn a dozen yards away, and a few
smaller, auxiliary sheds here and there. "We don't use it for much anymore,"
Horuss explained as he climbed out, and Rufioh followed him with the food, "but
my father says he wants to move into this place once Equius and I graduate. We
had corn back there, and some wheat. Corn was the biggest thing. We had horses,
too, but my aunt took them in when she moved to Kentucky a few years back," he
added. He headed toward the barn. "I think they left the..." His voice trailed
off as he fit a key into the padlock on the door. The lock popped open, and he
pushed open the door. It must have taken every ounce of strength he had,
because his muscles seemed to strain and flex beneath his leather jacket.
Slowly but surely, the massive barn door creaked open four feet, just far
enough for them to squeeze in.
"Ah, yes," Horuss said triumphantly, flipping on a light.
"It looks like a movie theater in here," Rufioh said, awed.
"The film projector was a gift," Horuss said. "I think there's some movies in
the house—all we need to do is wheel the projector outside and we can have our
own drive-in movie theater."
Rufioh would have voiced his approval, except he'd already set down their
dinner and flung his arms around Horuss's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.
It only took them about twenty minutes to set up the projector in the bed of
the truck facing forward and find a movie for them to watch. Their food was
cold by then, but Rufioh didn't care—he was here with Horuss, watching a
twenty-year-old movie he'd never even heard of, on an actual date with him.
They had a blanket wrapped around them to keep them warm, and once Rufioh was
done eating, he curled up into Horuss's side, secretly pleased when Horuss
wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
He wanted to stay here forever, watching movies and eating cold burgers and
snuggling up to Horuss, enjoying the soothing beat of his heart and the way he
smelled, all warm and safe. "This is the best date I've ever been on," he
murmured.
"By far," Horuss agreed. He reached across their bodies and grabbed Rufioh's
free right hand with his left. Maybe it was just Rufioh's clouded thinking, but
it seemed like their fingers fit together perfectly.
As soon as the movie ended, Rufioh reluctantly pulled himself away to stretch
for a moment, and Horuss took the opportunity to gather up the trash and throw
it away. He then took the movie off the projector and started disassembling the
equipment.
"Do we really gotta go back, doll?" Rufioh asked, nearly whining, as he sat
across from Horuss in the bed of the truck.
"It's nearly eleven. At this rate, you won't be home until midnight, and I,
even later."
Rufioh scoffed. "No one's gonna miss me."
"Tavros would."
Dammit, Horuss was right. He doubted Tavros was going to go out of his way to
piss off their old man, but sometimes the smallest thing could set him over the
edge. "A fair point. I suppose we should go back."
"Before we do, I have to ask you something. I know that we can't really go
steady, especially since you're technically dating Damara, but..." Horuss
pulled his class ring off his right hand. "Will you wear my ring?"
Rufioh was grateful for the dark, because he knew his face was turning red—but
he was delighted. "Of course!" He practically launched himself into Horuss's
arms and pinned him to the side of the bed, kissing him again. His chest felt
so full, it might have burst. He couldn't remember when he'd been so happy—how
did he deserve any of this?
He felt Horuss take his hand and slide his ring onto his right middle
finger—the ring was too big for his ring finger. "I won't be able to wear it
like this all the time, though," he whispered.
"I know. But when it's just us..."
"When it's just us, when I can be all yours..." Rufioh sighed, resting his
forehead against Horuss's. "I might not be able to tell anyone, but my heart is
yours."
"And mine, yours," Horuss said quietly, running his thumb over Rufioh's
knuckles.
It was past eleven-thirty before either of them bothered to move.
Chapter End Notes
     God help me. It's amazing what I can get done when you only take away
     my internet.
***** Chapter 25 *****
Chapter Notes
     I never went to homecoming in high school, and I imagine it was
     different in the 90s than 2004-2008 anyway. So here, have a bunch of
     improbable events.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was a tradition for the homecoming dance to take place in the school
gymnasium (as opposed to prom, which happened at one of the local banquet
halls), so Cronus knew exactly what to expect when he walked through the double
doors with Meenah on his arm. Rufioh and Damara were only a few steps behind
them, but he didn't particularly care about them at the moment. A band was
playing their cover of "Rocking Around the Clock," and Meenah was already
rocking her shoulders to the music. He wanted to pull her right out to the
dance floor, but there weren't very many people out there. He wasn't about to
start dancing with only four other couples. It was too early.
"We should go get our picture taken!" Damara said suddenly, tugging Rufioh
toward one corner, where an archway with a fake foresty background and a camera
in front was set up. A few couples were milling nearby, one couple under the
arch, and a photographer getting ready to take their picture.
"Wow," Meenah laughed. "I knew they were a little lame, but I didn't realize
they were that boring."
She clearly thought commemorative photographs were tacky. Cronus personally
agreed, but he also suspected that Damara hadn't been sure she'd even be going
to her senior homecoming and so wanted something to remember it by. As for
Rufioh, he didn't have much choice—he was just along for the ride.
"We should probably go find our seats," Cronus said.
"Probably. We're sittin' with them, right?"
"That was the plan."
They started prowling through the tables, trying to scope out the best
table—not too close to the back, not too close to the front, but still within
easy reaching of the makeshift stage where the band was playing. Meenah figured
she was a shoe-in for Homecoming Queen, and, shockingly, Cronus was up for
Homecoming King. He had no idea who'd nominated him, but it was hard not to be
flattered, especially when he'd made it to the top four. He also had no idea
who else had been nominated, since when the announcement had been made the day
before, he'd been skulking under the bleachers, avoiding his history class. He
hadn't bothered asking, and he frankly didn't care. He didn't think he was
going to actually get it, so he just shrugged it all off.
On their first circuit of the room, they ended up smacking into Porrim Maryam,
who was leaning up against a table in a jade-green dress that set off her eyes.
She crossed her arms as they approached, and her sour look was enough
provocation for Cronus to steer Meenah toward her.
"Hey, Por," he said coolly, "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Normally I choose not to be associated with such trivial events, but my date
was rather set on attending, so I graciously agreed to accompany him."
"Date? Where?" Cronus asked, looking around. No one was in the immediate
vicinity, except the preacher's kid, Vantas, who was weaving in their direction
with punch in his hands.
Porrim turned and threw out her arm as Vantas reached them and set down the
glasses of punch. "Kankri here's my date."
For some reason, that struck Cronus as so wildly funny, he nearly collapsed
with laughter. "Him?" he managed to choke out, doubled over as he was. "Oh, my
God, Por, I never pegged you for the devout type!"
Even Meenah was cackling behind her hands. Kankri Vantas looked a little
pissed-off, though. Cronus couldn't quite tell—due to the low light, Kankri's
dark skin, and his own tears—but the junior looked like he was turning a little
bit red. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he spat, "It might surprise you, but
I'm less like my father than you think."
"Yep, that's a surprise, alright!"
Kankri's hands balled into fists, and he spat, "Fuck you, Ampora!"
That was a surprise. Cronus genuinely never expected to hear from Kankri. He
stopped laughing and actually looked at him for a moment, and even though
Kankri was clearly fuming, the first thought that floated to the surface of his
mind was He's hot.
He had no idea where that had come from, but he shrugged it off. It was
understandable, after all. After three weeks of seeing him in school, hiding
behind unflattering clothes and messy hair, now that he wore a well-fitting
suit and with his hair actually combed for once, it was more obvious now. He
had a nicely-shaped face, and his eyelashes were really long. Kankri was
actually fairly attractive when he put some effort into his appearance.
And Cronus really hadn't expected the words "Fuck you" to come out of Kankri's
mouth, either. He had to admit that Kankri earned quite a bit of respect from
Cronus, especially considering he was a preacher's son.
"Jegus flippin' Christ. Let's just go," Meenah grumbled, tugging at his arm. It
was a testament to how floored he still was that he allowed her to pull him
away, toward the other side of the gym.
The moment they walked away, Porrim turned to Kankri with a smug grin on her
face. "Mr. Vantas, I had no idea you even knew words like that."
"Have you ever had the unfortunate opportunity to converse with my brother?
That's my internal monologue—I just keep a more meticulously-maintained filter
between my brain and my mouth."
Porrim giggled. "I've never seen him look so shocked, ever. That is probably
the single greatest thing that will happen all evening. We might as well just
go home now, because nothing else that happens tonight could conceivably match
the sheer joy that one event gave me. In fact, it's all downhill from here for
the rest of my life. I should just drop out of school an join a convent."
"You're not Catholic," Kankri pointed out.
"I'll convert first. No, you're right, joining a convent is a stupid idea. I'll
go be a librarian."
"I wouldn't dare tell you what to do with your life, but we should at least see
this evening to its denouement. We did pay to be here, after all. Besides, I
might get another chance to tell off Cronus Ampora again." His breathing
hitched when he thought about that—the words had just flown out of his mouth
before he could stop them, like some kind of ingrained reaction to his
particular brand of jackassery. But Ampora, far from being angry or offended,
had just seemed impressed. But it wasn't just awe on his face. There was
something else there. He knew he'd seen that look somewhere before, but he
couldn't figure it out.
"Hey. You doing okay there? You seem a little... bamboozled."
"Huh? Oh. Yes. I just... didn't expect that altercation to transpire quite the
way that it did, is all. I was expecting more..."
"Assholishness?" Porrim suggested.
"An astute summary."
"Honestly, I'm right there with you. I've never seem him back down so quickly
from what was tantamount to issuing a fight challenge. He's usually the first
one to pull out his switchblade, like some kind of over-hyped, overly-paranoid
fake greaser. I know he talks a big game and he dresses the part, but really,
the guy's bark is worse than his bite. He wouldn't know a real greaser if one
trounced him at the Freeze King. He's also never been in a real fight once, at
least that I've seen. Rufioh Nitram, on the other hand... Well, I know he's got
some weird thing going on with his family, but he gets it, probably better than
anyone else in The Lost Boys."
"I've seen him with black eyes and split lips. Is that from fighting?"
"Ye—you mean like street fighting? No—his dad beats the crap out of him. This
isn't really common knowledge—I only know because I used to hang out with them
as a sophomore, so don't go spreading it around. I don't think he wants a whole
lot of people to know, get it?"
"Yeah, I get it. Maybe we should move on, then."
By seven-thirty, most of the gymnasium was filled with people, either milling
around the dance floor, actually dancing, or hovering near the tables. Rufioh
and Damara were finally finished in the picture-taking line and had made their
way to the table that Cronus and Meenah had settled at. Surprising all of them,
Kurloz was there, too, and he'd even made a halfway decent attempt at
detangling his hair. Most of it still fell over his eyes, though.
That was right around the time the principal got onstage and took the
microphone, and as soon as she did, the whole gymnasium fell silent.
"Alright, students, please find your seats. In a few moments, the homecoming
committee will be handing out the ballots for your homecoming king and queen.
While they're doing that, I'm going to call up your nominees. For homecoming
queen, we have Meulin Leijon..."
At the next table over, with her back to Kurloz, Meulin stood up and
practically skipped to the stage amid a fair amount of applause.
"...Porrim Maryam..."
Porrim followed behind her, seemingly oblivious to her own applause.
"...Damara Megido..."
Damara let out a giggle and kissed Rufioh's cheek. "I'm sure we're gonna win,"
she whispered before hurrying up to the stage.
We?
"...and Meenah Peixes."
Meenah tossed her hair and went to join the other candidates.
"And for our homecoming kings, we have Cronus Ampora..."
Cronus smirked as he got up. Rufioh was pretty sure he was going to win—but
then again, he didn't even know who else was in the running.
"...Rufioh Nitram..."
Oh, holy fuck. His face burned and his legs seemed to be jelly, but he managed
to get to his feet and stumble after Cronus. Why hadn't anyone told him about
this? No one would vote for him anyway, but the thought of winning and having
to dance with whoever the queen was... he was legitimately terrified. Who'd
even nominated him, anyway? It had to be some kind of joke.
"...Dirk Strider..."
Dirk looked even less pleased than he did. He kept his sunglasses on as he
slouched to the stage, but Rufioh was pretty sure he was scowling.
"...and Horuss Zahhak."
Yikes. Well, now he wouldn't have to search the crowd for Horuss to keep
himself occupied—he was going to be right next to him, only three feet away.
And what if Horuss won? Rufioh would have to see him dancing with the
homecoming queen—and he was even less excited about than prospect than his own
victory. He prayed it would be either Cronus or Dirk—and if he had his way, it
would be Dirk, since he was sure Cronus would be bragging about it for months
if he won.
As for the homecoming queen, he just hoped Meenah wouldn't win, because if she
did, they'd never hear the end of that, either.
The principal kept talking, saying stuff about how the homecoming king and
queen was a tradition and how they should embody the ideals of the school and
how they had a fine group of students to choose from (Rufioh wanted to
laugh—three of the potential homecoming kings were the farthest thing from that
ideal; Horuss, at least, was a well-liked jock, while Cronus and Dirk were just
good-looking rebels, and he was... well, just a rebel) and a bunch of other
stuff that Rufioh couldn't quite keep track of because his ears were ringing.
He probably wouldn't have even known when to go sit down if Cronus hadn't
nudged him.
The ballots were waiting for them by the time they got back to their respective
tables. Kurloz already had his ballot folded up in the middle, but it wasn't
folded in half—somehow, he'd managed to fold it into a crane. Rufioh figured he
was tripping on something different tonight if he could focus on the task long
enough.
As soon as the pencil got to him, he marked Damara's name right away—after all,
if she won, that would be that much less time he'd have to spend with her.
After another moment's thought, he checked next to Dirk Strider's name. Then he
passed the pencil to his left and folded up his own ballot, sliding it into the
middle.
Jade couldn't stop giggling as Dirk finally sank back into his seat. "You
didn't tell me you were up for homecoming king!"
"Yeah, I was hopin' it was a joke," he grumbled. "Let one of those other
assholes get it. Well, not Ampora—the guy is a huge tool. Nitram didn't want to
be up there any more than I did. So, Zahhak, then."
"Oops," Jake said, reaching for his already-folded ballot. "I wanted to see you
in a crown."
Dirk shuddered and put an X next to Zahhak's name. As for the queens, well...
Peixes was out, since she was just as obnoxious as her boyfriend. As much as he
would be amused by a certain amount of strife in the greasers' group by voting
Megido, he wasn't a huge fan of her, either. She was still his second choice,
though, over Maryam, who was incredibly stuck-up. That only left Leijon, who,
despite being a cheerleader, seemed genuinely nice. They'd had a few brief
interactions and she'd never struck him as vain or rude.
Zahhak and Leijon it was.
Dinner was served shortly after the ballots were collected, so Dirk didn't have
too much time to stew over the results. It was out of his hands now, so there
was no point in obsessing over it.
That didn't stop him from dreading the moment the principal walked back onstage
with a small sheet of paper in her hand. It had only been forty-five
minutes—had the homecoming committee really gotten the ballots counted so fast?
Apparently they had, because she seemed quite satisfied with the results.
"Students, I have here the results of the homecoming election. It was a very
close race, especially for homecoming queen, but we have our winners. Our
homecoming 1955 queen is..."
The drummer in the band played a light drumroll, and a few people laughed.
"Meulin Leijon!"
Even from across the room, Dirk was pretty sure he could hear Meenah Peixes
cursing. It might have just been his imagination, but he liked to think she was
livid.
Meulin hurried up to the stage with a huge grin. She was so excited, she was
practically shaking.
"And, finally, our homecoming 1955 king is..."
Another drumroll. Dirk crossed his fingers under the table, hoping it wasn't
him.
"Horuss Zahhak!"
Dirk slumped back in his seat, a wave of relief washing over him. Amid
thunderous applause, Horuss made his way to the stage. He actually had to bend
over slightly to let the principal crown him since he was eight inches taller
than her, but he was a solid foot taller than Meulin, making for a rather
interesting picture. They didn't seem all that awkward around each other, and
Dirk thought he remembered something about them being friends. Well, that's
good, he thought as Horuss escorted Meulin to the dance floor. At least someone
was happy about this whole ordeal.
If he ever found out who nominated him in the first place, he'd kick their ass.
Chapter End Notes
     Okay but what if this fic goes on longer than 50 chapters? I really
     have no idea how long it might end up being... I could possibly
     compress it down to 50, then again, it could be up to 100. SOMEONE
     KILL ME.
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Notes
     Everything in this story is historically accurate. Want to know why
     we haven't heard any Elvis in the story? Because his first studio
     single wasn't recorded and put on the air until 1956, six or seven
     months after the story starts. Want to know how much sifting I had to
     do just to learn about POPCORN and if it was commercially available
     for home preparation in 1955? Like SO MUCH of it. I should have set
     this in 1957 or '58, for real.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Porrim's living room was a mess of poster board and paint. Newspaper covered
most of the floor, where their small group was working. On the coffee table
(which had been pushed against the wall to allow them ample room to work) was
several foil tins of E-Z Pop popcorn, filling the air with a deliciously salty
smell. Kankri was privately jealous that Porrim's mother could afford to buy
popcorn for the family for everyday occasions—the last time he'd had popcorn
was at a movie with his parents a year before.
Porrim, of course, seemed to think nothing of it—she, Kanaya, and Rose munched
happily while they stenciled and painted in letters. Both he and Tavros Nitram,
on the other hand, only ate a few pieces here and there.
Kankri could tell that Tavros was even more unused to such luxury than he was.
The sophomore's jeans were threadbare and several sizes too big, held up by a
ratty belt, and his shirt was loose as well. They were probably hand-me-downs
from his older brother. He was pretty well-aware that the Nitrams were
practically dirt poor, but couldn't Tavros's mother at least have patched up
the hole in the back of his pant leg? He was too polite to say anything, but he
did wonder. And anyway, he appreciated the help that the four of them were
giving him. Without their assistance, he knew he wouldn't be able to make
nearly as many posters as they were churning out. Even with just him and
Porrim, it would have been an uphill struggle.
"So, tell me, Kankri," Rose said abruptly, jarring his attention away from the
downward stroke of an A, "what's your actual campaign platform going to be
like? I know it doesn't really matter to any of us, since you're the only
junior here, but I'm curious about the outsider's perspective you plan to bring
to our educational institution in general."
"I must admit, I find myself pondering the same," Kanaya agreed. She set down
her brush for a moment to stretch her back, raising her arms above her head.
Her back audibly cracked when she arched it. "What sets you apart from the
other candidates for junior class president—how many?"
"Just two," Kankri replied.
"That's not so bad. So what could you bring to the table that the others
couldn't? If you aren't different enough, you won't get the votes you need to
win. What issues have you noticed being a problem?"
"And I swear to God, if you say something about your faith being your anchor, I
will backhand you," Porrim said sweetly.
"Well, I—I'm diplomatic," he offered. "I can talk to anyone, about anything.
And I also find that authority figures, especially the ones at the school, seem
to take me more seriously because of my father."
"That may be true, but it will be difficult to bring that point across during
your campaign," Rose pointed out, fishing a few pieces of popcorn out of the
tin. "If you bandy about the fact that you're a skilled manipulator, people
will be less trusting of you." She punctuated her point by tossing the popcorn
into her mouth.
He didn't feel like he was a skilled manipulator—Rose was taking his statement
grossly out-of-context. But rather than argue, he changed tack. "I may be an
outsider, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, since I wouldn't be
constrained by the faulty traditions in place."
"Such as?" Kanaya asked. She tilted her head to the side.
"Excuse me?"
"Faulty traditions? What, exactly, are you referring to? What does the school
have a tradition of doing that is such an issue?"
"I—well..." He hated to admit that he hadn't thought about it much. But as his
mind flew over his last few weeks, he finally landed on something.
"Communication. At the risk of sounding like some kind of elitist, at this
school, there seems to be a bit of a breakdown in communication between the
staff and the students, whereas at my old school, the students were better-
informed. So maybe the teachers and principals could give details on upcoming
events to the student councils, and then during class meetings, the student
council—"
"Class meetings?" Rose asked, her eyebrow raised.
"Yes, when the different grades meet, all seniors and juniors and sophomores
and freshmen in different locations, and they discuss upcoming events and
issues that affect them, so the student council can relay those concerns to the
faculty and staff so they can be appropriately addressed."
The other four exchanged puzzled glances.
"We don't have those," Porrim said.
Horror flooding through Kankri, his eyes widened, even as Tavros said, "It
actually sounds like a good idea, though."
Rose and Kanaya both nodded. "That would... actually be hugely beneficial,"
Kanaya added. "I agree that the communication structure is flawed, but your
class meeting idea sounds like an excellent remedy."
"But that wasn't even my idea!" Kankri protested. "But the fact that you don't
have class meetings..." His voice trailed off. The school didn't have class
meetings. He just assumed that the reason he hadn't heard anything about them
was because it was so early in the academic year and the student council hadn't
been elected yet. It never occurred to him that there simply were no class
meetings to be had. Part of him didn't want to believe it, but... "I could make
that part of my campaign platform. If elected, I will ensure a meeting platform
for all the grades to address their grievances with their student council
representatives and the school faculty."
"Lofty promises," Porrim yawned, "but what happens if you get elected and the
principal vetoes your proposal? You can say you'll start those meetings, but if
they tell you to fuck off, well, you just have a whole class full of juniors
who are pissed that you didn't keep your promise. I'd ask the principal first
if she'd be willing to work with something like that."
"I supposed that's fair," Kankri said slowly.
"So what was your actual idea?" Tavros asked. He reached for the popcorn
hesitantly, like he wasn't sure it was real.
"Hmm? Oh, right. Well, the morning announcements always seem a bit... clunky, I
suppose? Maybe we could do away with them entirely and let—"
"Nope, not happening," Porrim said. "Quentin would never give up her daily
speaking platform. Besides, birthdays get announced during those morning
soliloquies. Too many people look forward to hearing their names over that
speaker to get rid of it."
"And some of us languish in the hell of summer birthdays, never to hear our
names announced over a loudspeaker with a cheerfully-wished 'happy birthday' to
follow," Kankri grumbled.
"When's your birthday again?"
"July nineteenth. Unless I wound up in summer school, I will literally never
have school on my birthday."
"Well, look on the bright side," Kanaya said. "At least you will literally
never have school on your birthday! I, on the other hand, have almost always
had my birthday fall on a school day. Like just this past Tuesday. And the same
with Porrim."
"And me," Rose said. "Early December is the worst."
"And me. But at least May first is usually warm," Tavros added. "I wish I never
had to go to school on my birthday."
Maybe they had a point, but Kankri still felt a twinge of jealousy. He and
Karkat were both in the same boat with their summer birthdays. In grade school,
they'd never gotten to share cupcakes on their birthdays or received tiny
decorative erasers from their teachers. The one time Karkat had asked to have a
birthday party, only one other person had shown up—everyone else RSVP'd no
because their families had taken them out of town for the first month of summer
vacation. Most of their old friends had barely registered their birthdays
unless they happened to also fall within the eight weeks between the end of one
school year and the beginning of another. Just once, he wished he could
experience that.
But he seemed to be outnumbered here, so he swallowed it. "Alright. So she
won't give up her platform. That's fair. But I wonder if she can be convinced
to scale back her announcements—maybe give a brief overview instead of going
terribly in-depth—and further details could be disseminated by the student
council. After all, I find that even my mind wanders during her announcements.
They can get lengthy and tedious, and by the time she says something that I
might have found interesting, I have completely lost focus. Or, perhaps, her
messages could be corralled to one day a week, with all of the birthdays being
announced at once."
"I suppose that doesn't sound too horrible," Porrim said, relenting. "And I
admit, if you're able to get Quentin to curb her talking, the whole school will
thank you."
"And I would probably pay more attention to a peer than to the principal," Rose
agreed. "And, of course, the format of releasing information with the classes
instead of over the PA to the whole school also allows for students to ask for
clarification in case something has been worded confusingly."
"As it often is," Kanaya mumbled under her breath.
"So that's probably a good start. At least I have some halfway decent ideas and
know where to start. I believe tomorrow after church I'll start on my speech.
My debate teacher agreed to look it over for me."
"You might just have a leg up on the competition, then. And with these posters?
Well..." Porrim held hers up proudly. VOTE FOR VANTAS! A VOTE FOR YOUR FUTURE
was painted elegantly across it in Porrim's preferred jade-green. Kankri let
the group have free reign with the designs as long as they bounced slogans off
him first, but he had to admit that he rather liked Porrim's design. "You're
doing well, I think. And with the way you told off Cronus last night, I think
this election will be no big deal for you at all."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her confidence was infectious.
He just might win after all.
===============================================================================
 
He lived for weekends.
In his opinion, Saturday afternoons, just like this one, were the best. He was
no longer completely exhausted from the night before, the sun was still out,
and the promise of another full day stretched out before him. Sundays were
spent with his brother and parents and extended family, which he didn't mind,
but he was a more solitary sort of person, and Saturday afternoons were his
domain. He could be on his own and simply breathe.
So it was odd that, now, he felt a strange twinge of loneliness.
Sitting in the bed of his truck, back against the rear window with his knees
drawn up to his chest, he found himself reminiscing about the last time he'd
been in the back of this truck, just over a short week ago. Rufioh had been
with him, winding up in his arms, and it had been the best thing in the world.
His heart had flown and he wondered if Rufioh really knew what he did to
Horuss.
Sometimes, it was difficult not to immediately seek out Rufioh in a room.
Homecoming had been a particular kind of torture, up on stage with only Dirk
Strider separating the two of them. He'd gotten so used to being able to pull
Rufioh to him, like he had on Friday, that it was a struggle not to immediately
reach for his hand. Judging by how often Rufioh's eyes had found his that
night, the feeling was mutual.
And that was something else that Horuss struggled with—the fact that, after
three long years, nearly out of nowhere, Rufioh suddenly reciprocated his
feelings. Part of him was still convinced he was dreaming, that he'd wake up
soon and find his class ring on his nightstand, that it would still be the
first week of school and Rufioh and Damara Megido would be draped all over each
other.
But every morning, he awoke and realized he didn't have his ring anymore.
Rufioh wore it now, on a chain around his neck, like Horuss had daydreamed of
since he was a freshman. (Actually, in his daydreams, Rufioh could proudly wear
Horuss's class ring on his finger for everyone to see, but he was a realist and
understood the need for discretion. Really, the fact that Rufioh even wore the
ring at all was more than he'd dared hoped for.) Rufioh wanted him, and even
though he was keeping up this charade with Damara, Horuss knew it was just
that: an act. Rufioh didn't want her. He wanted him.
Ever since they were freshmen, Horuss had admired the smaller boy, had felt a
strange sort of respect for how he carried himself. It wasn't just that he was
beautiful—and he was—it was the fact that he didn't seem to know it, that he
felt he needed to defend himself from everything, that he seemed fearless when
standing up to the seniors who liked to push him and the other two (who would
grow to become three of the four Lost Boys) around in the hallways. He seemed
so strong, although it wasn't until he heard the whole story a few months later
that he saw why. Rufioh had to be strong—there was no other choice for him.
Horuss saw him come to school with black eyes and swollen cheeks and split lips
and bruises, so many bruises, and he wished they were friends so he could say
something to him, ask him if he needed anything, offer some kind of help, no
matter how futile it was, but Rufioh fell in with the greasers and Horuss's
skills always lay with athletics, and he never thought there would ever be a
way they could just talk like two teenagers instead of slipping into "greaser"
and "jock" roles that would put them at-odds. Not that Rufioh was ever rude to
him—they just never got the chance to get to know each other.
So he'd swallowed it back, tamping it down to keep himself from interfering,
hoping he could eventually move on while suspecting he wouldn't, not during
high school, not while he had to see Rufioh nearly every day. Sure, he'd flash
an occasional smile in his direction during school hours, but Rufioh never
seemed to notice, and why would he? Girls constantly giggled over him and he
never seemed to notice that, so it was no surprise that subtlety flew past him.
But then, just a few weeks ago, he'd been passing by the gas station and he
noticed a familiar figure walking along as a violet New Yorker peeled away, and
he couldn't help but stop and offer him a ride. Horuss fully expected Rufioh to
tell him to fuck off, but, miraculously, against his expectations, Rufioh had
accepted. And then there had been the ride itself, where Rufioh opened up to
him, implying he liked boys, he didn't like girls at all, and Horuss's subtle
remark about his cousin, and the next thing he knew, he had Rufioh pinned to
the door of the truck and Rufioh wanted to be there, kissing him.
As he watched Rufioh walk up to his house and disappear inside that night, he
knew he'd never be the same. There was no way you remained the same person
after discovering your three-year-old unrequited crush was no longer
unrequited.
His fingers twitched and he tightened them, wishing Rufioh's hand was in his
right now. He promised himself that he'd give Rufioh space, for both their
benefit—he couldn't afford to completely lose himself in Rufioh, and he was
afraid that the smaller boy would grow bored of him soon if they spent too much
time together. Besides, Rufioh had to make it seem like he was still giving
Damara attention—and he understood the necessity of their relationship as well.
If Rufioh started floating around school like an idiot in love, well, that
would make sense if he had a girlfriend. If he was single, though, his behavior
might become suspicious. As for him...
He was contemplating asking Meulin to pretend to be his girlfriend, just in
case. Maybe...
But the sun was beating down on him, and the crossbreeze in these woods was so
cool, and even though he really wasn't that tired, he felt himself slipping
into a nap. He hoped he dreamed of Rufioh.
Chapter End Notes
     I've wanted to do a little "getting into Horuss's head" thing for
     awhile so you all know that he is absolutely bonkers over Rufioh AND
     THESE IDIOTS ARE GOING TO KILL ME.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!