Fic: Wildfire
Title: Wildfire
Author: Redlance
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,517
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I’m just borrowing them so they can do my bidding for a while.
A/N: So this is another one that was half finished. It’s a little different than my usual stuff, because it’s not actually set from the POV of any of the characters from the show and is instead told from the POV of the student body surrounding the characters. It was just a weird idea I had one day and… I just finally finished it.
Summary: In high school, there’s no such thing as privacy.
Trays clattering, chairs scraping across the floor, and loud lunchtime chatter makes up the universal sound of the cafeteria. It is pizza day, a practical national holiday for the students of Kennedy High, but the highly coveted cheese-slathered food product is not, for once, the topic of discussion.
“I heard she did it through text.”
“She didn’t do it through text, that’s totally not her style.”
“You barely even know her.”
“We totally talk in the hallways.”
“I dunno, I wouldn’t have wanted to break up with that face. I think I’d have done it through text. Or at least over the phone.”
Gossip. The teenager’s native langue. Also known to be that of numerous adults. It starts as the barest glowing ember, catches a fuzz floating in the breeze, and then explodes and spreads like wildfire.
“Besides, I heard she did it in the hallway between classes. Becky said she saw everything.”
“Becky is full of shit.”
“Please, you’re both wrong. I was told by a very reputable source that she was propositioned with a bottle of cheep wine and tacky seventies porno music, and broke it off right then and there.”
“This reputable source being…?”
“Mary Cherry.”
They say laughter is the best medicine, but it can also sting and make people feel stupid as quickly as it can make them feel better.
“Yeah. And she also said not two hours ago that she was going to stop by the local animal shelter and pick up some kittens she wanted to make into a coat.”
“The relevance of that statement being…?”
“The girl is insane and not a word out of her mouth can be taken as truth.”
“I bet they haven’t even broken up at all. I bet this is all some cleverly concocted rouse to throw the gossipers and gawkers off their backs.”
The sound of a chair scraping along the tiles pulls the three girls attention in the direction of the noise. The table beside their own is home to a similar group of girls, only there are four of them, and each seems to have her own opinion. That is still parallel to someone else’s. After all, there are only so many airborne fuzzes that the embers can attach themselves too.
“I don’t know about that. I saw them in Lit and it was like Frosty had died and his ghost was haunting the classroom. Chilly and melancholy.”
Both groups share a common interest and it is not long before the first makes room for the second. Like animals around a watering hole.
“Well I dunno about you guys, but I’m glad. I was getting really sick of seeing them in the hallways all over each other like that-”
“You mean like you and your boyfriend?” The question is met with rolled eyes and the girl who spoke out in disgust now has the decency to look at the very least semi embarrassed. “Yeah, get a grip Jess.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not-”
“Guys shut up. Here she comes.”
She enters and the entire room falls silent. As though an antelope has wondered unaware into the feeding grounds of lions that had only seconds before been discussing what to have for dinner. She pauses in the entryway, feeling every individual pair of eyes on her, but she doesn’t lift her head. She knows if she does, she’ll either freeze or turn tail and run. Both acts will cause the lions to eventually pounce. Instead, she keeps her head bowed and stalks through the crowd of onlookers towards her table. That seems further away than usual. She can practically hear their heads turn as they watch her go.
“She looks so… sad.”
“Told you. Sucks, right?”
“I think it’s better. I mean, it’s not… normal.”
“Seriously, Jessica, if you don’t keep them closed, I’m going to staple your lips together.” The annoyed, biting warning suffices in closing Jessica’s lips so the stapler won’t have to. “They were like the cutest couple to ever walk the halls of Kennedy and I swear to God if you say one more negative thing towards them, the stapler will end up somewhere that will make it increasingly difficult for you to spout your shit. It sucks that they broke up, end of story.”
“Jeez Libby, don’t have an aneurysm.”
“Then don’t be an ass.” The sound of a foot tapping agitatedly against the metal leg of the table puts a definite end to that particular stem of the conversation. Like a lion roaring its disapproval of a foolish cub’s actions.
A brief contemplative silence falls over the merged groups as they watch the girl finally reach her table and sit among friends that are trying to hard to act like everything is okay.
“I heard she just wanted to get back with her ex.”
“You think?”
“No. She looks too much like a kicked puppy for that.”
“She just trying to garner the sympathy vote. I heard she was caught in the back seat of his car.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
“God, slut much?”
“Shut up, shut up!” The hissed whisper silences them and the blonde who spoke the words nods her head in the direction of the cafeteria entryway with wide eyes. “Unless you want to be strapped to the hood of a car and driven off a bridge.”
Seven pairs of eyes, and undoubtedly those of the rest of the room, swivel inside their sockets and latch onto the group entering the lunch hall. Or more specifically, the girl in the middle. The room had barely had the time to become littered with shards of broken conversations once more, and now was deathly silent again. The group ignored the stares and walked to where the trays were stacked.
“Commence pin dropping.”
“Shhh.”
What sounds like chair legs being dragged across a chalk board fills the room, and the seven sets of eyes swing in the opposite direction to find that the other girl rising out of her seat, grabbing her bag and storming away from the table and her dismayed looking friends. They watch as she stalks through the centre of the room, not giving the group that has just arrived so much as a glance, and leaves. Eyes return to the girls perusing the pizza options. Or the two of them that are perusing and the one that had her own eyes trained on the section of wall the other girl had just disappeared around.
“Burn.”
“Ice, ice, baby.”
“Told you. Like Frosty’s funeral.”
“I bet this was totally all Nicole’s doing.”
“Oh. My. God. You’re so right!” A shriek passes from one table to another, and a stronger bond is formed between two opposing cliques. “This has Julian written all over it.”
In high school, it seems the story can change in the blink of an eye and unless you’re on the inside, the truth could escape you forever. In this situation, only a handful of people are on the inside. Only a handful of people don’t need to do any speculating, but still sides are taken. Because one group feels a shared betrayed, a shared hurt. And the predatory lionesses in the other group need to find enough courage to throw around, so they can make their leader feel like she did the right thing. But all their roaring can’t stop the speculation, only forestall it, and eventually things will reach unbearable. Stories will get so far out of hand that something will have to be said.
**********
One week later
“I’m telling you, Popita said it was like right out of that movie… with the dude that’s stuck in his house? And sees his neighbour kill his wife? She saw her bringing out garbage bags! I bet her bits are buried in seven different spots all over town.”
“Oh please! Popita doesn’t know jack shit. She’s not on the inside anymore, remember? Julian isn’t letting anything get out without her say so.”
“Plus, Mary Cheery is still up and walking around, and though she sometimes looks it, I don’t think she’s a member of the living dead. So I think we can assume that nothing got out that wasn’t supposed to.”
“Well then how do you explain her total absence from school?”
“Um, I think it can safely be considered ‘over reacting’ when you instantly assume death rather than, I dunno, say… flu?”
“It’s the middle of freaking summer!” The wide eyes of her seatmates glance around nervously, making sure their friend isn’t attracting unwanted attention. From prey higher up the food chain than themselves. “She’s not sick, she’s dismembered somewhere.”
“She looks like she’s in one piece to me.” It takes a second, and a nod of Libby’s head, but the other two girls move in tandem to find the topic of everyone’s conversation walking into the cafeteria. And yes, despite all of the rumours, in one piece.
“Yeah, but one that hasn’t slept in a week and instead spent it crying. She can use all the concealer she wants, she’s not covering those bags up.” She moves into the room, slowly like a wounded animal and with her head bent like the last time they’d seen her. She shuffles through the mass of tables until she reaches her own and slumps into a chair beside friends that are trying to look happy, but whose eyes betray them.
“I seriously don’t know how much more of this I can take. Swear to god, I failed my bio test because I was too busy thinking about them.”
“You failed because you spent your study time macking on your boyfriend.” And just like that, someone is put in their place. “But you’re right, it’s like the whole school is suffering, you know?”
“Well, except for the Jessicas.”
“They need to take a long walk off a cliff.”
“Wearing concrete shoes.”
“Nice.”
“You guys, look.” Attention is once more diverted to the entrance of the room, where a lone, blonde cheerleader is stalking in with the prowess of a cougar looking for her next meal. “She’s alone. Why is she alone?”
“Why don’t you go ask her?”
“I’m not suicidal, that’s why.”
“Oh, here comes Mary Cherry.” They watch, far more surreptitiously than before, as the two new additions to the room make their way to their table. One stalking, the other scurrying behind her looking slightly terror stricken. “She looks like she’s ready to kill and MC looks like she’s afraid she’ll be the victim.”
“Jock boys don’t look too sure about them sitting with together either.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on their shoulder.” The remnants of chatter gather and build once more as apprehension and curiosity settle and people remember they have lunches to eat and try to think of other things to talk about. Until there is another arrival.
“Oh, my god. Cass, get out your cell, I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna want to take pictures.”
“I have never seen her look this pissed. Not even that time Sam sprayed her with that chocolate crap during The Big Freeze.”
“I know, right? Kinda hot.” There is a pause in the conversation as the hazel eyes of the newest blonde addition scan the room. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“You are such a homo, Libby.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Will you two stop flirting, shut up and pay attention?” Silence falls over the cafeteria, broken only by the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor as an irate looking blonde strides towards her usual table. They watch, riveted, as Brooke McQueen, popularity queen, makes for her peers, her so-called equals. And without a word, but with a cold yet burning stare, takes a cup of something right out of Josh Ford’s hand and tosses the contents right into Nicole Julian’s scandalized face.
Every occupant in the room resists the urge to clap, instead they hold their breath and watch as Brooke spins, eyes searching for a second and then she’s moving again.
“Are you getting this?”
“As fast as my phone will let me snap pictures.”
“Sam.” The room is quiet enough that Brooke’s voice carries to the ears of everyone, and the blonde doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about it. She moves quickly, reaching the table of one Samantha McPherson, who is frowning but makes no move to leave like she had the week before. She just stares as the blonde approaches. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
“Knew it. Totally knew she wasn’t crazy.”
“Shhh.”
“Did you…” Brooke trails off, glancing around at the eyes on her and then kneeling in front of a pained-looking Sam. “Did you cheat on me?” Those who are close enough can see Sam’s eyes widen in an almost comical fashion, before her eyebrows knit together in another frown.
“No! Brooke, why would you even think-” Sam cuts herself off and the room watches as her eyes shift from the blonde kneeling before her to the one sat beside a freaked out looking Texan. “I’ll kill her.” And Sam gets to her feet.
“Cat fight.”
“Nah, Sam’s no hair puller. She’s a puncher.”
“Sam no, don’t!” Brooke is saying over them, reaching out and grabbing the brunette by the wrist to halt her movements. “Stop! Sam, stop, she isn’t worth it.” An almost visible ripple spreads outwards from Brooke’s centre as the student body share the same thought. Finally.
“She almost ruined us!” Sam says, her expression pained as she turns back to Brooke. And someone squeaks when the blonde lifts a hand to the report’s face.
“Libby, was that you?”
“Shut up.”
“But she didn’t.” Brooke reminds her, brushing the hair from Sam’s face and leaning in. A second passes, then another, and then Josh lets out a good natured catcall and the room erupts. Whistles, cheers and laughter fills the silence, and the two making a scene in the middle of the room finally separate, looking embarrassed. Brooke takes Sam by the hand and leads her out of the room.
“That was awesome.”
“Totally awesome. And I got pictures.”
“Good ones?”
“I got the moment of impact. Both times.”
“I wonder what’ll happen to Julian now.”
“I call for a wardrobe demotion to things from the Sears catalogue and for her head to be shaved.”
“Ooh, yeah. I don’t think even she could rock the bald look.”
“Maybe Sam will still get a chance to kick her ass. I don’t think she can rock the shiner look either.”
The familiar sound of chair legs being scraped along the floor is the only warning they get before they’re joined by the occupants of the table across from their own again.
“I just heard Nicole is planning a showdown after school.”
“Girl’s gonna get her ass kicked.”
And the cycle starts over. When one rumour, one topic of conversation is put to rest, another will always rear its head. Because without it, what would the student body talk about? Home work?
Let’s hope it never comes to that.
Author: Redlance
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,517
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy, I’m just borrowing them so they can do my bidding for a while.
A/N: So this is another one that was half finished. It’s a little different than my usual stuff, because it’s not actually set from the POV of any of the characters from the show and is instead told from the POV of the student body surrounding the characters. It was just a weird idea I had one day and… I just finally finished it.
Summary: In high school, there’s no such thing as privacy.
Trays clattering, chairs scraping across the floor, and loud lunchtime chatter makes up the universal sound of the cafeteria. It is pizza day, a practical national holiday for the students of Kennedy High, but the highly coveted cheese-slathered food product is not, for once, the topic of discussion.
“I heard she did it through text.”
“She didn’t do it through text, that’s totally not her style.”
“You barely even know her.”
“We totally talk in the hallways.”
“I dunno, I wouldn’t have wanted to break up with that face. I think I’d have done it through text. Or at least over the phone.”
Gossip. The teenager’s native langue. Also known to be that of numerous adults. It starts as the barest glowing ember, catches a fuzz floating in the breeze, and then explodes and spreads like wildfire.
“Besides, I heard she did it in the hallway between classes. Becky said she saw everything.”
“Becky is full of shit.”
“Please, you’re both wrong. I was told by a very reputable source that she was propositioned with a bottle of cheep wine and tacky seventies porno music, and broke it off right then and there.”
“This reputable source being…?”
“Mary Cherry.”
They say laughter is the best medicine, but it can also sting and make people feel stupid as quickly as it can make them feel better.
“Yeah. And she also said not two hours ago that she was going to stop by the local animal shelter and pick up some kittens she wanted to make into a coat.”
“The relevance of that statement being…?”
“The girl is insane and not a word out of her mouth can be taken as truth.”
“I bet they haven’t even broken up at all. I bet this is all some cleverly concocted rouse to throw the gossipers and gawkers off their backs.”
The sound of a chair scraping along the tiles pulls the three girls attention in the direction of the noise. The table beside their own is home to a similar group of girls, only there are four of them, and each seems to have her own opinion. That is still parallel to someone else’s. After all, there are only so many airborne fuzzes that the embers can attach themselves too.
“I don’t know about that. I saw them in Lit and it was like Frosty had died and his ghost was haunting the classroom. Chilly and melancholy.”
Both groups share a common interest and it is not long before the first makes room for the second. Like animals around a watering hole.
“Well I dunno about you guys, but I’m glad. I was getting really sick of seeing them in the hallways all over each other like that-”
“You mean like you and your boyfriend?” The question is met with rolled eyes and the girl who spoke out in disgust now has the decency to look at the very least semi embarrassed. “Yeah, get a grip Jess.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not-”
“Guys shut up. Here she comes.”
She enters and the entire room falls silent. As though an antelope has wondered unaware into the feeding grounds of lions that had only seconds before been discussing what to have for dinner. She pauses in the entryway, feeling every individual pair of eyes on her, but she doesn’t lift her head. She knows if she does, she’ll either freeze or turn tail and run. Both acts will cause the lions to eventually pounce. Instead, she keeps her head bowed and stalks through the crowd of onlookers towards her table. That seems further away than usual. She can practically hear their heads turn as they watch her go.
“She looks so… sad.”
“Told you. Sucks, right?”
“I think it’s better. I mean, it’s not… normal.”
“Seriously, Jessica, if you don’t keep them closed, I’m going to staple your lips together.” The annoyed, biting warning suffices in closing Jessica’s lips so the stapler won’t have to. “They were like the cutest couple to ever walk the halls of Kennedy and I swear to God if you say one more negative thing towards them, the stapler will end up somewhere that will make it increasingly difficult for you to spout your shit. It sucks that they broke up, end of story.”
“Jeez Libby, don’t have an aneurysm.”
“Then don’t be an ass.” The sound of a foot tapping agitatedly against the metal leg of the table puts a definite end to that particular stem of the conversation. Like a lion roaring its disapproval of a foolish cub’s actions.
A brief contemplative silence falls over the merged groups as they watch the girl finally reach her table and sit among friends that are trying to hard to act like everything is okay.
“I heard she just wanted to get back with her ex.”
“You think?”
“No. She looks too much like a kicked puppy for that.”
“She just trying to garner the sympathy vote. I heard she was caught in the back seat of his car.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
“God, slut much?”
“Shut up, shut up!” The hissed whisper silences them and the blonde who spoke the words nods her head in the direction of the cafeteria entryway with wide eyes. “Unless you want to be strapped to the hood of a car and driven off a bridge.”
Seven pairs of eyes, and undoubtedly those of the rest of the room, swivel inside their sockets and latch onto the group entering the lunch hall. Or more specifically, the girl in the middle. The room had barely had the time to become littered with shards of broken conversations once more, and now was deathly silent again. The group ignored the stares and walked to where the trays were stacked.
“Commence pin dropping.”
“Shhh.”
What sounds like chair legs being dragged across a chalk board fills the room, and the seven sets of eyes swing in the opposite direction to find that the other girl rising out of her seat, grabbing her bag and storming away from the table and her dismayed looking friends. They watch as she stalks through the centre of the room, not giving the group that has just arrived so much as a glance, and leaves. Eyes return to the girls perusing the pizza options. Or the two of them that are perusing and the one that had her own eyes trained on the section of wall the other girl had just disappeared around.
“Burn.”
“Ice, ice, baby.”
“Told you. Like Frosty’s funeral.”
“I bet this was totally all Nicole’s doing.”
“Oh. My. God. You’re so right!” A shriek passes from one table to another, and a stronger bond is formed between two opposing cliques. “This has Julian written all over it.”
In high school, it seems the story can change in the blink of an eye and unless you’re on the inside, the truth could escape you forever. In this situation, only a handful of people are on the inside. Only a handful of people don’t need to do any speculating, but still sides are taken. Because one group feels a shared betrayed, a shared hurt. And the predatory lionesses in the other group need to find enough courage to throw around, so they can make their leader feel like she did the right thing. But all their roaring can’t stop the speculation, only forestall it, and eventually things will reach unbearable. Stories will get so far out of hand that something will have to be said.
**********
One week later
“I’m telling you, Popita said it was like right out of that movie… with the dude that’s stuck in his house? And sees his neighbour kill his wife? She saw her bringing out garbage bags! I bet her bits are buried in seven different spots all over town.”
“Oh please! Popita doesn’t know jack shit. She’s not on the inside anymore, remember? Julian isn’t letting anything get out without her say so.”
“Plus, Mary Cheery is still up and walking around, and though she sometimes looks it, I don’t think she’s a member of the living dead. So I think we can assume that nothing got out that wasn’t supposed to.”
“Well then how do you explain her total absence from school?”
“Um, I think it can safely be considered ‘over reacting’ when you instantly assume death rather than, I dunno, say… flu?”
“It’s the middle of freaking summer!” The wide eyes of her seatmates glance around nervously, making sure their friend isn’t attracting unwanted attention. From prey higher up the food chain than themselves. “She’s not sick, she’s dismembered somewhere.”
“She looks like she’s in one piece to me.” It takes a second, and a nod of Libby’s head, but the other two girls move in tandem to find the topic of everyone’s conversation walking into the cafeteria. And yes, despite all of the rumours, in one piece.
“Yeah, but one that hasn’t slept in a week and instead spent it crying. She can use all the concealer she wants, she’s not covering those bags up.” She moves into the room, slowly like a wounded animal and with her head bent like the last time they’d seen her. She shuffles through the mass of tables until she reaches her own and slumps into a chair beside friends that are trying to look happy, but whose eyes betray them.
“I seriously don’t know how much more of this I can take. Swear to god, I failed my bio test because I was too busy thinking about them.”
“You failed because you spent your study time macking on your boyfriend.” And just like that, someone is put in their place. “But you’re right, it’s like the whole school is suffering, you know?”
“Well, except for the Jessicas.”
“They need to take a long walk off a cliff.”
“Wearing concrete shoes.”
“Nice.”
“You guys, look.” Attention is once more diverted to the entrance of the room, where a lone, blonde cheerleader is stalking in with the prowess of a cougar looking for her next meal. “She’s alone. Why is she alone?”
“Why don’t you go ask her?”
“I’m not suicidal, that’s why.”
“Oh, here comes Mary Cherry.” They watch, far more surreptitiously than before, as the two new additions to the room make their way to their table. One stalking, the other scurrying behind her looking slightly terror stricken. “She looks like she’s ready to kill and MC looks like she’s afraid she’ll be the victim.”
“Jock boys don’t look too sure about them sitting with together either.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on their shoulder.” The remnants of chatter gather and build once more as apprehension and curiosity settle and people remember they have lunches to eat and try to think of other things to talk about. Until there is another arrival.
“Oh, my god. Cass, get out your cell, I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna want to take pictures.”
“I have never seen her look this pissed. Not even that time Sam sprayed her with that chocolate crap during The Big Freeze.”
“I know, right? Kinda hot.” There is a pause in the conversation as the hazel eyes of the newest blonde addition scan the room. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“You are such a homo, Libby.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Will you two stop flirting, shut up and pay attention?” Silence falls over the cafeteria, broken only by the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor as an irate looking blonde strides towards her usual table. They watch, riveted, as Brooke McQueen, popularity queen, makes for her peers, her so-called equals. And without a word, but with a cold yet burning stare, takes a cup of something right out of Josh Ford’s hand and tosses the contents right into Nicole Julian’s scandalized face.
Every occupant in the room resists the urge to clap, instead they hold their breath and watch as Brooke spins, eyes searching for a second and then she’s moving again.
“Are you getting this?”
“As fast as my phone will let me snap pictures.”
“Sam.” The room is quiet enough that Brooke’s voice carries to the ears of everyone, and the blonde doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about it. She moves quickly, reaching the table of one Samantha McPherson, who is frowning but makes no move to leave like she had the week before. She just stares as the blonde approaches. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
“Knew it. Totally knew she wasn’t crazy.”
“Shhh.”
“Did you…” Brooke trails off, glancing around at the eyes on her and then kneeling in front of a pained-looking Sam. “Did you cheat on me?” Those who are close enough can see Sam’s eyes widen in an almost comical fashion, before her eyebrows knit together in another frown.
“No! Brooke, why would you even think-” Sam cuts herself off and the room watches as her eyes shift from the blonde kneeling before her to the one sat beside a freaked out looking Texan. “I’ll kill her.” And Sam gets to her feet.
“Cat fight.”
“Nah, Sam’s no hair puller. She’s a puncher.”
“Sam no, don’t!” Brooke is saying over them, reaching out and grabbing the brunette by the wrist to halt her movements. “Stop! Sam, stop, she isn’t worth it.” An almost visible ripple spreads outwards from Brooke’s centre as the student body share the same thought. Finally.
“She almost ruined us!” Sam says, her expression pained as she turns back to Brooke. And someone squeaks when the blonde lifts a hand to the report’s face.
“Libby, was that you?”
“Shut up.”
“But she didn’t.” Brooke reminds her, brushing the hair from Sam’s face and leaning in. A second passes, then another, and then Josh lets out a good natured catcall and the room erupts. Whistles, cheers and laughter fills the silence, and the two making a scene in the middle of the room finally separate, looking embarrassed. Brooke takes Sam by the hand and leads her out of the room.
“That was awesome.”
“Totally awesome. And I got pictures.”
“Good ones?”
“I got the moment of impact. Both times.”
“I wonder what’ll happen to Julian now.”
“I call for a wardrobe demotion to things from the Sears catalogue and for her head to be shaved.”
“Ooh, yeah. I don’t think even she could rock the bald look.”
“Maybe Sam will still get a chance to kick her ass. I don’t think she can rock the shiner look either.”
The familiar sound of chair legs being scraped along the floor is the only warning they get before they’re joined by the occupants of the table across from their own again.
“I just heard Nicole is planning a showdown after school.”
“Girl’s gonna get her ass kicked.”
And the cycle starts over. When one rumour, one topic of conversation is put to rest, another will always rear its head. Because without it, what would the student body talk about? Home work?
Let’s hope it never comes to that.