Chapter 1-Lily
sdhgdjkfg FINALLY.
Chapter 1-Lily
I made it to lunch with no further incidents, minus the small almost-impaling-myself-on-the-fencing-trophy thing as I tried to change into my normal uniform without exposing myself to Spike.
When we got to the cafeteria, he made me hold onto his arm so that I wouldn't slide on the semi-slippery floor, which one might think was generous, but it was really just a guise to get girls to think that, hey, even though this guy has blue hair and six million tattoos and piercings, he might still be a sweet heart.
Which he totally was. Sometimes.
We made our way to the usual table, with the usual people, and sat [me with a considerably showy amount of help from our dear Bosworth]. The only person there so far was James, the one in the group that I never really talk to that much. At all.
See, James was friends with Benn, who was friends with Jenn, who was not, in fact, friends with James, but was the one who suggested that we allow both Benn and James into our table. Which, you know, we did. Because how could we turn something like "Benn and Jenn" down? Also, James was totally beautiful. And I mean beautiful.
And James got along with us all, but mostly Spike, because they're both kind of "OH DUDE, NEW PIERCING, WHAT?"
Yes, I have heard this actual phrase come out of Spike's mouth before.
The only other thing that I know about him is that he plays piano in some band that he made with his friends back home in...wherever he lives.
"Hey," I said, after Spike had made absolutely certain that everything with breasts had seen him tenderly place me and my sprained ankle in separate seats.
"Hey," James said, flashing me a grin. "Hurt your ankle again?"
"Yup. Tripped over my shoelace."
"Did you forget to tie them?" he asked, looking amused.
"Nope. They were double knotted." My own clumsiness never ceases to amaze me. James looked impressed, too.
"Wow. You really hit the jackpot with THIS story."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "My personal favorite was last week's. I not only sprained my hand when the racket decided to go flying, but I hit the ball into Eugene Shepherd's face and hit Spike in the balls with the racket."
"Yeah, OW," Spike said from my left. "They STILL hurt."
I grinned. "It was only fair that, after sharing your kindness with me for so long, I share my misfortune!"
He glared at me and then held out his hand for my lunch money. I tugged it out of my pocket and forked it over.
"Chicken, right?" he asked and I nodded. I hurt various parts of my leg so often that Spike has gotten buying my lunch down to a science.
As soon as he left, Jenn, Benn, Mimi, Arielle, Jeff, and my best friend/roommate, Hazelle arrived and sat, Hazelle on my left, my foot on my right.
"Nice job," Hazelle said. "Made ten bucks with that one."
"I'm glad that I'm helping your prosperity," I said dryly as everyone filled in around us, saving the seat next to my foot for Spike.
"I'm glad you're glad," Hazelle said with an overly happy sort of grin before handing her lunch money off to Mimi, who had her lunch buying down to a science, as, whenever I was injured, Hazelle tended to keep me company.
"So, how are things with Spike?" Hazelle asked, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.
"...Fine?" I said, rolling my eyes. James looked up.
"Wait, Spike? You and Spike?" he asked, looking slightly incredulous.
"NO," I growled. "That is the most RIDICULOUS thing I've EVER heard."
And it really was because, ew, Spike. He was about four times my height and twice my size because he was so burly and buff and muscular. He was practically my bodyguard.
"Oh, ok," James said, but he didn't look entirely convinced. And he was even less convinced when Hazelle winked at him.
"I hate you," I informed her as the object of our conversation came back and slammed my lunch down in front of me.
"There you go, Princess," he said, taking his seat. "Lunch is served."
"Thanks, Boz," I said, picking up my fork and stabbing a spear of limp broccoli.
And then, just my luck, a bit of plastic that was, for some reason, in my serving of vegetables, ricocheted off the stabbing utensil and into the side of James' soda can, and then, of course, into my face.
"...OW. WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" I shouted, irritated. But then, as soon as I finished speaking, a tremor went through my recently-healed, sprained hand, causing me to drop my fork, which bounced off my tray and also into my face, nearly lodging itself in my forehead.
"...AHHHH."
Everyone was concerned for about .5 seconds before they all started laughing. Hysterically. I looked over and there were tears gathering in the corners of Hazelle's eyes.
"Hey," Jenn finally said, being the first to stop dying and all. "We all lost the bet."
That quieted down the rest of the girls, but James, Benn, Jeff, and Spike were still snickering a bit. At least I knew who truly appreciated what I brought to this group other than comic relief. Sort of.
"There's still one more!" Hazelle cried after a moment.
"OH YEAH," Jeff shouted back, alerting me to who I had to watch out for.
"THAT'S IT, I'M DONE EATING," I said, pushing my tray away.
"You haven't even started, Hoppy," Spike said, pushing it back.
"I just got hit with a FORK, Boz. I don't want to risk it."
"So eat with a spoon?" Hazelle suggested with a grin. From my right appeared Spike's hand holding a spoon. Sighing, I took it and gently began to eat my mashed potatoes. I managed to get those down without hurting myself in any way, shape, or form, but when I went to take a sip of my own soda, someone flicked a paperclip at me [yeah, what the hell is up with THAT?] and I got my nose stuck in the opening. Spike had to butter my nose and the can to free my face.
"Today's been pretty bad," I said, rubbing my sore face. "I think my period's coming."
Hazelle nodded her understanding while everyone else just looked mildly perplexed and continued on with their meals. I, for one, was seriously done eating for the day.
"Did anyone do that paper for Miss Fallon?" Spike asked, looking around at us all.
"Duh," all the girls answered in unison. The other boys nodded their agreement and Spike cursed.
"I was gonna do it, I just forgot," he groaned, pulling out his notebook. "What was it again?"
"Dungeons and Dragons-comparing with legends," I said. "Just turn it in late, you'll never finish it in fifteen minutes."
Spike groaned and stuffed his notebook away. "She's going to kill me."
"No, she won't. She likes you," Mimi said from Hazelle's other side. Spike still looked distraught, so I moved my twisted ankle to his lap in a comforting sort of way.
"Cheer up, Boz. She'll let you turn it in for almost full credit tomorrow."
Spike rolled his eyes and flicked me in the toe.
"Owww! I am INJURED, Spike Martin!" I whined, pouting.
"And that's different from usual?" he teased, poking my foot. I was about to respond as I usually would, but realized that Hazelle and James were watching with scarily knowing expressions, even though what they actually knew and what they thought they knew varied by a landslide.
Of course, I was the only one that knew for a fact who Spike was madly in love with, and that was emerald-haired Mimi, who he had known since he was born and who had given him the nickname Spike. And the only reason I knew this was because, after taking someone to the infirmary at least twice a week every week for seven years, you tend to bond.
"OH, HOPPY," Spike suddenly shouted, causing me to jump and dislodge the spoon that was resting on my broccoli, which came and smacked me in the sore nose.
"Yes?" I squeaked as the rest of the table giggled.
"We have to start going! If you're gonna limp, we'll be late unless we leave now."
Sighing, I heaved myself out of my chair and fell onto Spike, who, luckily, anticipated that and was standing there to catch me. Hazelle snickered.
"Did that count as tripping?" Jeff asked.
I was about to answer when I realized why he asked and then scowled.
"YES. YES, IT DOES."
"HA, FIVE BUCKS. FORK IT OVER, JEFFIE," Hazelle crowed, sticking her hand out. I rolled my eyes and didn't bother to wait to see if he would fork it over, just turned and started the long limp to the cafeteria door.
STARSTARSTAR
Occult class. The one class they made everyone in the school take every year, besides gym. There was no such thing as "enough credits" in occult. You couldn't take extra, you couldn't take less, and you couldn't substitute. You took occult or you did not attend St. Patrick's International School for Success.
Luckily, the occult teacher was the young and beautiful Lisa Fallon, who graduated from St. Paddy's herself ten years ago, which made the whole thing bearable. The boys, of course, liked to look at her and the girls liked to listen to her, since she was fun and an expert in everything she said. Which made things interesting.
As we passed in our papers, Ms. Fallon looked at Spike.
"Spike," she said, looking like "stern" was very hard for her to manage. "Why are you so fidgety?"
"I'm not fidgety!" he said, immediately stiffening up.
"Did you do your paper?" she asked knowingly.
"...I forgot," he admitted grudgingly. She smirked.
"Mmhmm. Tomorrow morning, Spike. Get it to me then." He nodded vigorously. Miss Fallon was the only teacher in the school that did not call Spike either "Bosworth" or "Martin." As such, Spike was forever trying to get over his inability to be motivated to do work and actually turn things in to her. I think she knew that, which is why she always let him turn things in late for full credit.
As she turned her back, I felt something hit my head. I cursed under my breath and looked down at the square of paper that was now in my lap. Hazelle was giggling from behind me.
"I hate you," I whispered to her before opening the note and starting to read.
James says that he has someone new to bring to the lunch table.
I immediately whipped around to look at her. She made frantic eyebrow gestures toward the note, so I quickly scribbled, " Did he say who he/she was?" and passed it back.
I was ready when she threw it back that time and actually caught it [banging my elbow on the desk, of course].
It's a he and his name is Chris. That's all he said. But, apparently, it's his new roommate.
New roommate? No one EVER got new roommates at St. Paddy's. Almost like tennis partners. In fact, if tennis partners weren't often co-ed, people would probably be ROOMED with their tennis partners. Luckily, no girl has ever been subjected to living with Spike, who is the biggest slob on the planet. And a womanizer.
I couldn't pass the note back because class was starting. But I made a mental note to discuss this with Hazelle the second the bell rang.
STARSTARSTAR
"HAZELLE," I cried, the second the bell rang.
"I KNOW," she said, dragging me out the door.
What she, somehow, momentarily forgot is that it is never a good idea to drag me, or I am liable to get twice as many injuries as usual.
Which I did.
Until Spike rushed over and went "URGH" in my ear, grabbing me out of Hazelle's grip. Teachers didn't even mind anymore when Spike manhandled me-they knew me and my accidental masochistic tendencies by now.
"Don't drag her!" Spike grunted, carrying me the rest of the way.
Hazelle grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Lil. I forgot."
"It's ok," I grumped, glaring at Spike. "Would you put me DOWN now? I have LEGS, you know."
"Yeah, everything else in the world knows it, too. Here, I'll put you by Hazelle's face," he said, shoving me in her general direction and nearly banging our heads together. We both squeaked.
"So, Chris?" I said to her, when Spike had gotten us at an appropriate facial level.
"Yeah. That's what he said. He said he was new and that he was his new roommate instead of Eugene and that he was really cool and should sit with us." Hazelle shrugged.
"But. What about Eugene?" I asked, putting on a faux-sad expression.
"Eugene will just have to go on without him." Hazelle grinned.
"What's that, Lily? You have a crush on Eugene?" Spike asked, loud enough for the nerd in question to hear. I smacked him on the shoulder as Eugene looked over with a raised eyebrow.
"SPIKE," I called to him. "HE WAS TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF." Eugene gave Spike a weird look before drifting away.
Spike looked ready to hit me, but couldn't, because he was carrying me. I grinned.
Suddenly, Hazelle gasped. "LILY."
"WHAT?!"
"WE HAVE TO GO BACK TO OUR ROOM RIGHT NOW. SPIKE. FORWARD." She pointed.
"What?! Why do we-SPIKE STOP RUNNING!"
But we were already sprinting toward my dorm. Lovely. I'd better cling for dear life.
Chapter 1-Lily
I made it to lunch with no further incidents, minus the small almost-impaling-myself-on-the-fencing-trophy thing as I tried to change into my normal uniform without exposing myself to Spike.
When we got to the cafeteria, he made me hold onto his arm so that I wouldn't slide on the semi-slippery floor, which one might think was generous, but it was really just a guise to get girls to think that, hey, even though this guy has blue hair and six million tattoos and piercings, he might still be a sweet heart.
Which he totally was. Sometimes.
We made our way to the usual table, with the usual people, and sat [me with a considerably showy amount of help from our dear Bosworth]. The only person there so far was James, the one in the group that I never really talk to that much. At all.
See, James was friends with Benn, who was friends with Jenn, who was not, in fact, friends with James, but was the one who suggested that we allow both Benn and James into our table. Which, you know, we did. Because how could we turn something like "Benn and Jenn" down? Also, James was totally beautiful. And I mean beautiful.
And James got along with us all, but mostly Spike, because they're both kind of "OH DUDE, NEW PIERCING, WHAT?"
Yes, I have heard this actual phrase come out of Spike's mouth before.
The only other thing that I know about him is that he plays piano in some band that he made with his friends back home in...wherever he lives.
"Hey," I said, after Spike had made absolutely certain that everything with breasts had seen him tenderly place me and my sprained ankle in separate seats.
"Hey," James said, flashing me a grin. "Hurt your ankle again?"
"Yup. Tripped over my shoelace."
"Did you forget to tie them?" he asked, looking amused.
"Nope. They were double knotted." My own clumsiness never ceases to amaze me. James looked impressed, too.
"Wow. You really hit the jackpot with THIS story."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "My personal favorite was last week's. I not only sprained my hand when the racket decided to go flying, but I hit the ball into Eugene Shepherd's face and hit Spike in the balls with the racket."
"Yeah, OW," Spike said from my left. "They STILL hurt."
I grinned. "It was only fair that, after sharing your kindness with me for so long, I share my misfortune!"
He glared at me and then held out his hand for my lunch money. I tugged it out of my pocket and forked it over.
"Chicken, right?" he asked and I nodded. I hurt various parts of my leg so often that Spike has gotten buying my lunch down to a science.
As soon as he left, Jenn, Benn, Mimi, Arielle, Jeff, and my best friend/roommate, Hazelle arrived and sat, Hazelle on my left, my foot on my right.
"Nice job," Hazelle said. "Made ten bucks with that one."
"I'm glad that I'm helping your prosperity," I said dryly as everyone filled in around us, saving the seat next to my foot for Spike.
"I'm glad you're glad," Hazelle said with an overly happy sort of grin before handing her lunch money off to Mimi, who had her lunch buying down to a science, as, whenever I was injured, Hazelle tended to keep me company.
"So, how are things with Spike?" Hazelle asked, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.
"...Fine?" I said, rolling my eyes. James looked up.
"Wait, Spike? You and Spike?" he asked, looking slightly incredulous.
"NO," I growled. "That is the most RIDICULOUS thing I've EVER heard."
And it really was because, ew, Spike. He was about four times my height and twice my size because he was so burly and buff and muscular. He was practically my bodyguard.
"Oh, ok," James said, but he didn't look entirely convinced. And he was even less convinced when Hazelle winked at him.
"I hate you," I informed her as the object of our conversation came back and slammed my lunch down in front of me.
"There you go, Princess," he said, taking his seat. "Lunch is served."
"Thanks, Boz," I said, picking up my fork and stabbing a spear of limp broccoli.
And then, just my luck, a bit of plastic that was, for some reason, in my serving of vegetables, ricocheted off the stabbing utensil and into the side of James' soda can, and then, of course, into my face.
"...OW. WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" I shouted, irritated. But then, as soon as I finished speaking, a tremor went through my recently-healed, sprained hand, causing me to drop my fork, which bounced off my tray and also into my face, nearly lodging itself in my forehead.
"...AHHHH."
Everyone was concerned for about .5 seconds before they all started laughing. Hysterically. I looked over and there were tears gathering in the corners of Hazelle's eyes.
"Hey," Jenn finally said, being the first to stop dying and all. "We all lost the bet."
That quieted down the rest of the girls, but James, Benn, Jeff, and Spike were still snickering a bit. At least I knew who truly appreciated what I brought to this group other than comic relief. Sort of.
"There's still one more!" Hazelle cried after a moment.
"OH YEAH," Jeff shouted back, alerting me to who I had to watch out for.
"THAT'S IT, I'M DONE EATING," I said, pushing my tray away.
"You haven't even started, Hoppy," Spike said, pushing it back.
"I just got hit with a FORK, Boz. I don't want to risk it."
"So eat with a spoon?" Hazelle suggested with a grin. From my right appeared Spike's hand holding a spoon. Sighing, I took it and gently began to eat my mashed potatoes. I managed to get those down without hurting myself in any way, shape, or form, but when I went to take a sip of my own soda, someone flicked a paperclip at me [yeah, what the hell is up with THAT?] and I got my nose stuck in the opening. Spike had to butter my nose and the can to free my face.
"Today's been pretty bad," I said, rubbing my sore face. "I think my period's coming."
Hazelle nodded her understanding while everyone else just looked mildly perplexed and continued on with their meals. I, for one, was seriously done eating for the day.
"Did anyone do that paper for Miss Fallon?" Spike asked, looking around at us all.
"Duh," all the girls answered in unison. The other boys nodded their agreement and Spike cursed.
"I was gonna do it, I just forgot," he groaned, pulling out his notebook. "What was it again?"
"Dungeons and Dragons-comparing with legends," I said. "Just turn it in late, you'll never finish it in fifteen minutes."
Spike groaned and stuffed his notebook away. "She's going to kill me."
"No, she won't. She likes you," Mimi said from Hazelle's other side. Spike still looked distraught, so I moved my twisted ankle to his lap in a comforting sort of way.
"Cheer up, Boz. She'll let you turn it in for almost full credit tomorrow."
Spike rolled his eyes and flicked me in the toe.
"Owww! I am INJURED, Spike Martin!" I whined, pouting.
"And that's different from usual?" he teased, poking my foot. I was about to respond as I usually would, but realized that Hazelle and James were watching with scarily knowing expressions, even though what they actually knew and what they thought they knew varied by a landslide.
Of course, I was the only one that knew for a fact who Spike was madly in love with, and that was emerald-haired Mimi, who he had known since he was born and who had given him the nickname Spike. And the only reason I knew this was because, after taking someone to the infirmary at least twice a week every week for seven years, you tend to bond.
"OH, HOPPY," Spike suddenly shouted, causing me to jump and dislodge the spoon that was resting on my broccoli, which came and smacked me in the sore nose.
"Yes?" I squeaked as the rest of the table giggled.
"We have to start going! If you're gonna limp, we'll be late unless we leave now."
Sighing, I heaved myself out of my chair and fell onto Spike, who, luckily, anticipated that and was standing there to catch me. Hazelle snickered.
"Did that count as tripping?" Jeff asked.
I was about to answer when I realized why he asked and then scowled.
"YES. YES, IT DOES."
"HA, FIVE BUCKS. FORK IT OVER, JEFFIE," Hazelle crowed, sticking her hand out. I rolled my eyes and didn't bother to wait to see if he would fork it over, just turned and started the long limp to the cafeteria door.
STARSTARSTAR
Occult class. The one class they made everyone in the school take every year, besides gym. There was no such thing as "enough credits" in occult. You couldn't take extra, you couldn't take less, and you couldn't substitute. You took occult or you did not attend St. Patrick's International School for Success.
Luckily, the occult teacher was the young and beautiful Lisa Fallon, who graduated from St. Paddy's herself ten years ago, which made the whole thing bearable. The boys, of course, liked to look at her and the girls liked to listen to her, since she was fun and an expert in everything she said. Which made things interesting.
As we passed in our papers, Ms. Fallon looked at Spike.
"Spike," she said, looking like "stern" was very hard for her to manage. "Why are you so fidgety?"
"I'm not fidgety!" he said, immediately stiffening up.
"Did you do your paper?" she asked knowingly.
"...I forgot," he admitted grudgingly. She smirked.
"Mmhmm. Tomorrow morning, Spike. Get it to me then." He nodded vigorously. Miss Fallon was the only teacher in the school that did not call Spike either "Bosworth" or "Martin." As such, Spike was forever trying to get over his inability to be motivated to do work and actually turn things in to her. I think she knew that, which is why she always let him turn things in late for full credit.
As she turned her back, I felt something hit my head. I cursed under my breath and looked down at the square of paper that was now in my lap. Hazelle was giggling from behind me.
"I hate you," I whispered to her before opening the note and starting to read.
James says that he has someone new to bring to the lunch table.
I immediately whipped around to look at her. She made frantic eyebrow gestures toward the note, so I quickly scribbled, " Did he say who he/she was?" and passed it back.
I was ready when she threw it back that time and actually caught it [banging my elbow on the desk, of course].
It's a he and his name is Chris. That's all he said. But, apparently, it's his new roommate.
New roommate? No one EVER got new roommates at St. Paddy's. Almost like tennis partners. In fact, if tennis partners weren't often co-ed, people would probably be ROOMED with their tennis partners. Luckily, no girl has ever been subjected to living with Spike, who is the biggest slob on the planet. And a womanizer.
I couldn't pass the note back because class was starting. But I made a mental note to discuss this with Hazelle the second the bell rang.
STARSTARSTAR
"HAZELLE," I cried, the second the bell rang.
"I KNOW," she said, dragging me out the door.
What she, somehow, momentarily forgot is that it is never a good idea to drag me, or I am liable to get twice as many injuries as usual.
Which I did.
Until Spike rushed over and went "URGH" in my ear, grabbing me out of Hazelle's grip. Teachers didn't even mind anymore when Spike manhandled me-they knew me and my accidental masochistic tendencies by now.
"Don't drag her!" Spike grunted, carrying me the rest of the way.
Hazelle grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Lil. I forgot."
"It's ok," I grumped, glaring at Spike. "Would you put me DOWN now? I have LEGS, you know."
"Yeah, everything else in the world knows it, too. Here, I'll put you by Hazelle's face," he said, shoving me in her general direction and nearly banging our heads together. We both squeaked.
"So, Chris?" I said to her, when Spike had gotten us at an appropriate facial level.
"Yeah. That's what he said. He said he was new and that he was his new roommate instead of Eugene and that he was really cool and should sit with us." Hazelle shrugged.
"But. What about Eugene?" I asked, putting on a faux-sad expression.
"Eugene will just have to go on without him." Hazelle grinned.
"What's that, Lily? You have a crush on Eugene?" Spike asked, loud enough for the nerd in question to hear. I smacked him on the shoulder as Eugene looked over with a raised eyebrow.
"SPIKE," I called to him. "HE WAS TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF." Eugene gave Spike a weird look before drifting away.
Spike looked ready to hit me, but couldn't, because he was carrying me. I grinned.
Suddenly, Hazelle gasped. "LILY."
"WHAT?!"
"WE HAVE TO GO BACK TO OUR ROOM RIGHT NOW. SPIKE. FORWARD." She pointed.
"What?! Why do we-SPIKE STOP RUNNING!"
But we were already sprinting toward my dorm. Lovely. I'd better cling for dear life.