Fic: The Farrago Society
On Saturday morning at 7:45 a.m., the temperature in Shermer, Illinois was beyond brisk, the mercury plunging headlong into bonechilling. The winter sun's pallid rays struggled to penetrate the shredded, gray November clouds. Cars pulled up in front of the brick and concrete structure of Kim Manners High School, queuing up in an orderly line at the front steps. One by one, their doors opened to release clouds of warm air as each vehicle disgorged a passenger. The sleek Mercedes sedan, engine softly purring, ejected a tall boy in a wool topcoat, a Coach messenger bag slung over his shoulder. As he ran up the steps, a battered SUV pulled up next, pausing for a few moments before a short-haired girl in a letter jacket hopped out, a blue sports bag slung over her shoulder. The SUV pulled away, its place filled by an older Crown Victoria. The Crown Vic's driver spoke at length to the passenger, who sat head down, apparently listening to the driver whose jaw was busily wagging. Finally, the passenger door creaked open and a girl with shoulder-length, vibrant red hair got out, a massive backpack dragging behind her. She hefted the backpack onto her slim shoulders and slowly trudged up the school steps. The last car in line, a light blue Prius, finally pulled up. It barely came to a full stop before a boy with a mop of wild, black hair hurtled out of it, a black duffel bag clutched in his hands. No sooner was he on the pavement than the car quickly pulled away. He stood a moment looking after it, then walked slowly up the stairs and reached to pull the door open. He halted as a voice called out behind him.
"Hey! Hold the door!" The black-haired boy looked to see who was hailing him, and saw a tall - a very tall - boy running across the lawn. His long, unbuttoned coat flapped in the chilly breeze, the same breeze that blew his shaggy hair around his face and obscured his features. Ripped jeans encased his long legs, stuffed into unlaced work boots. He came up to the black-haired boy and jostled him inside. "C'mon, man, it's too fucking cold out there, even for my hot ass!" The tall boy smacked his own rear before swaggering off down the hall. The black-haired boy trailed after him, both of them ending up at the same place - the double doors that led into the library.
The library was spacious, with several tables and chairs furnishing a large central area and alcoves branching off here and there. The black-haired boy sat at the back table of a group of six, clutching his over-stuffed duffel bag on his lap. He wasn't wearing a coat, but just had on a huge, shapeless black sweater. His hair was sticking up all over his head while bangs hung low above his eyes. He started biting his nails as he darted quick looks at the other occupants of the room.
The tall, disheveled boy was one table up, still wearing his long coat, his boots propped up carelessly on the tabletop as his fingers toyed with a battered lighter. He looked around casually, checking out his erstwhile companions while a smirk played on his face. His shoulder length hair was now pushed out of his face, and he was revealed to be a very handsome boy. Arched brows sat over somewhat foxy eyes, their slight tilt further accentuated by high cheekbones. He had a strong chin with a slight cleft, and his wide mouth alternated between smirks and the soft singing of rock lyrics. A small cut on one cheekbone and a bruise along the stubbly jaw further solidified the impression of "bad boy".
"Well, well, who we got here, the usual suspects? Where's our fearless leader, Principal Full-of-it?" mocked the bad boy.
"Shut up, Padalecki. Bad enough we're all stuck here today, we don't need you clowning around and screwing it up worse," said the sporty girl. Her face had a wholesome look, with little makeup on her pale skin and thick, dark hair in a very short cut. She was still wearing her blue and white letter jacket along with jeans and sneakers. Her blue athletic bag was on the floor next to her, and she had an open protein shake in her hand that she sipped on. "I'm only here so I don't lose my starting spot, so shut up and let's get this detention over with, okay?"
"Sure, Kimmy babe, anything I can do to help you. You know where that "starting spot" is, or ya need help with that? Oh, wait a minute, I'm thinking "G spot"! I can definitely help you with that!" Padalecki snorted and gave her a dirty wink. The black-haired boy in the back snickered. "Why, Misha! Did you like that? I don't think you even know what a G spot is, do you? Huh, Meesh? Tell me, Collins, which end of a girl do you stick your dick into?" Misha's face closed up and he turned to the side, ignoring Padalecki.
"I suppose you think you're so cool with all the dirty talk. News flash, Jared - you're not. You're just disgusting, so shut up and leave the rest of us alone." The speaker was the boy with the Coach messenger bag, which was now resting on the floor at the front table. He was sitting rather primly in his pressed jeans, his Topsiders flat on the floor, his hands with the perfectly buffed nails loosely clasped on the table. His shirt sleeves were rolled up a turn or two, and a gold Rolex gleamed on one wrist. His dark blond hair was lightly gelled and artfully spiked, his creamy skin with its array of tiny freckles was well-moisturized and smooth-shaven, and his green eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes that any girl would be proud to claim.
"Oh my God, as I live and breathe, Jensen Ackles is speaking to me! Little ol' me ! I must rush home this instant and record it in my diary! Dear Diary, Jensen Ackles spoke to me! He knows my name! Perhaps he's going to ask me to prom!" Jared cooed in an affected voice, fanning himself before pretending to faint.
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, you are a total ass."
"Just ignore him, Jensen," said Kim Rhodes, shrugging off her letter jacket. She wore a white tank layered with a blue tank underneath, and her shoulders and arms boasted excellent muscle tone. "He's not worth it. Let's just stay focused on doing our time and getting the hell out of here."
The doors popped open and Principal Kurt Fuller strode in. He was a tall, deep-chested man, but "imposing" somehow eluded him. Something in the sparse, fluffy hair, the too-wide eyes and the smarmy smile replaced dignity with unbalanced. He stood in front of the tables and smiled patronizingly at the five students seated there.
"Well, people, I'd wish you a good morning, except I really don't care what kind of morning you're having. What I care about is that you are here for the next eight hours, serving your detention. You've all displayed some type of reprehensible behavior that landed you here, and I want you to be quite clear that this is not play time. This is serving time. You will not talk, study, fool around, or do anything that prevents your butts from being glued to these chairs for the duration of this detention. You will also write a one thousand word essay about just who you think you are by the end of the day."
Fuller walked back and forth a little, rubbing his hands as he continued, "I can tell you who I think you are right this very minute. You, Mr. Ackles, are a princess. A pretty, pretty princess with a dubious sexual orientation that I cannot legally discriminate against, as much as I might like to. You, Ms. Rhodes, are quite the little jock-ette with amazing athletic ability, despite your presumed femininity. You, Ms. Day," Fuller turned to the side a little in order to address the timid redhead, "might be smart as Einstein, but will probably be a crazy cat lady by the time you're fifty. You, Mr. Collins, you - I don't even know where to begin with you, as you clearly are deranged. I only hope you don't shoot the school up one day. And you, Mr. Padalecki," Fuller stopped to survey the tall, lanky boy.
"Saving the best for last, are you, Fuller?" Jared said affably. "It's hard to know where to start when faced with so many excellent qualities. There's my undeniable good looks, my imposing stature, the fact that I'm hung like a horse - quite unlike yourself, Kurt. I've seen you in the men's room and I imagine that Mrs. Fuller is not a very happy woman." Jared winked at Jensen, who immediately whipped his head around and faced front. The vivid blush on his cheek was still visible.
Fuller turned dark red as he sputtered furiously, "Padalecki! You will not only serve today's detention, but next Saturday's, and the Saturday after that! In fact, consider yourself serving detention every Saturday until I decide to release you! Respect, you ignorant mongrel, I will see respect in my school! Stand up!" Jared stretched and stood in a leisurely fashion. Fuller walked over to him stiffly, standing almost nose-to-nose with the boy, who stared back at him coolly. "You are a maggot, Padalecki, squirming in the mystery meat of lunch! No one gives a rat's ass about what happens to you." Jared's cool stare was glassy, and his mouth was rigid. "So you will shut up and serve your detention and maybe - maybe - I'll let you actually get out of here one day and get back to your excuse of a life."
Jared stood as if frozen, eyes fixed on nothing. His fists were tightly clenched at his sides. Fuller remained in from of him for a moment, breathing hard. He turned to look around once more at the other students, all of whom pretended busily that they were invisible. Fuller snorted and strode out of the library, slamming the doors open with a smack of his open palms. The doors swung to with a whoosh, and everyone began to breath again.
"Jesus . . . what a fucking asshole," Jared muttered, throwing himself into his chair. He covered his face with his hands for a minute. A multitude of bracelets circled one wrist, and each hand sported a couple of large, silver rings. Jared brought his hands down and started spinning a ring with a wolf's head on it around his finger. Everyone else tried to look at him without appearing to look at him.
"Are you . . . are you okay?" asked Felicia, her quiet voice startling everyone. "He was pretty harsh."
"Harsh? Harsh? That wasn't harsh! That was a fucking walk in the goddamn fucking park on a sunny fucking day!" Jared spat, jumping up from his chair. He took off his coat and threw it down on the floor, stomping off to the back of the library. The other four looked nervously at each other.
"I just wanted to see if he was okay or not," whispered Felicia, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She crossed her arms and pressed them against her stomach.
"It's okay, you were being nice. It's not your fault," Kim said. "Fuller was being a dick, and now Padalecki is being a jerk. Although, if I had a choice, I'd pick the jerk, you know?" Everyone laughed a little in agreement, eyes darting around nervously.
"Well, I only know that I don't belong here. I didn't do anything to deserve this, and I shouldn't be here," Jensen stated firmly, the "with all of you losers" hanging unspoken in the air. "I left early one day and cut a couple of classes so I could hit the mall, and now I'm stuck here for the whole day. It's utterly ridiculous." He lifted his chin defiantly as he crossed his hands on the table.
"Oh, boo hoo," scoffed Kim. "Cutting class will get you detention every time, so just suck it up, princess," she snorted. "Right here, right now, you're no better than anybody else."
Felicia rummaged through her backpack and got out a notebook and pencil. She began to jot words down on the paper, pausing often to think. Jensen picked up his head and looked at her. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked, affecting a bored tone.
"I'm starting my essay. You know, he said we all have to write one. One thousand words on who we think we are."
Jensen shook his head and dropped it back on his arms again. Kim nodded as if she agreed with Felicia, but made no move to do likewise.
"Who do you think you are, then?"
The quiet voice had a rusty, gravelly sound to it, like it didn't get used very often. Everyone had to look for a moment to see who it even belonged to. Three sets of eyes ended up on Misha, who had picked his head up from the intricate pen drawing he'd been working on to speak with them. His eyes were heavily ringed with liner and shadow, making them look huge against his pale skin and black lipstick.
"I'm a brain. A geek. I like all the stuff that no one else does, like math and physics and calculus. I'm in the chess club and I lead the mathletes team."
"Is that it? Is that all you are?" Misha tilted his head as his blue eyes bored into her.
"N-no. I just - I don't know what else to say." Felicia looked ready to scamper into the stacks and hide.
"What about you? Who do you think you are, Collins?" Kim looked challengingly at Misha, her arms crossed in front of her.
"Me? I haven't the faintest idea. I'm a nutcase, didn't you know? I make the school psychologist wet his pants. I'm just crazy," Misha replied, turning his back on the rest of them again, practically curling up into a ball.
Kim scoffed and turned away from him. Jensen looked at her and she rolled her eyes, twirling her finger beside her head in the universal symbol for insanity. "Whatever," she said. "I know who I am, and the rest of you can just leave me the fuck alone."
Jensen turned to face her. "Just because you are head jock for the girls doesn't make you any kind of boss, Kim. It just makes you butch." Color flared in Kim's cheeks, and she stalked off to the magazine rack, looking at the latest issues of Sports Illustrated.
"Wow, you really are a little bitch, aren't you?" Misha observed, his blue eyes guileless. "I guess no one really knows what goes on under that perfect prep exterior."
Jensen glared at Misha before turning to face the front again. His pale pink oxford shirt hung perfectly on his rigid spine.
Kim skittered back from the magazine rack, which was by the library door. "He's coming! Fuller's coming back!" She darted into her seat, sending one last muffled yell to the back stacks, "Jared! It's Fuller!"
Fuller sailed through the doors just as Jared slid into his seat. The principal surveyed the tables with their unwilling occupants, smiling slowly at them. "Very nice, very nice indeed. Let's see you keep this up all day, shall we?"
Jared said, "I'm 18, I can keep it up all day. How about you, Kurt, can you say the same?"
A deep red began to suffuse Fuller's face again. Jensen turned his head partway to Jared and hissed "Stop it, you ass!"
Jared sat with an innocent expression on his face, looking at Fuller with wide eyes. Fuller slowly walked over to Jared's table, looming over the boy. "I have had about enough of you, Padalecki. Your class rank is in the bottom ten. You fulfill every expectation I have of you as a future bum." Jared was pale, eyes round and blank, as the principal spoke with calm, forceful clarity into Jared's face. "Do you understand me, boy? So don't think your little barbs and jabs matter for more than an instant to me, because I know I am somebody worthwhile."
Fuller turned and walked out of the library. No one spoke - the words from Fuller's diatribe hung like a toxic mist in the air. Jared sat unmoving, his eyes fixed, and finally Jensen turned around to face him. Jensen's haughty air had dropped, and he leaned toward Jared with a sympathetic face. "Jesus, I've never heard someone use so much energy to get his hate on. Dude, whatever you do today - leave him alone. Poking at him can't be worth the metric ton of shit he's dumping on you."
Jared closed his eyes and shuddered, then stretched. "Yeah, whatever. Don't waste your sympathy on me. You heard the man - I'm not worth it." He got up and started wandering around the library. Jensen looked after him with a puzzled expression before shrugging and wandering off himself.
Everyone got up, stiff from the constant sitting. The lack of anything to do was leading to boredom. Magazines were ruffled. Papers were doodled on. No one could get a signal, so there was no relief via internet or texting. Felicia sat down at one of the computers in the resource area, but the internet connection was dead there too. Even Misha stopped drawing, simply spinning his pencil around aimlessly as he stared off into space.
10:12 a.m.
They were gathered on the large landing of the open staircase in the middle of the library, talking on random subjects. The discussion shifted to parents, and Jensen revealed that his parents were estranged. "I wish they'd just get divorced and get it over with. Instead, it's like they play ping pong and I'm the ball. Mom uses me against Dad. Dad plays me against Mom. Half the time they're so busy playing me against each other, they don't even see when I'm playing them. It's just . . . so stupid. So fucking lame." His mouth turned down in a bitter expression.
Felicia's soft voice spoke up. "Jensen, at least you can still be you. You get to pick and choose what you want to do, to be." Her voice hitched. "In my house, everything is about The Plan. The Plan where I graduate as valedictorian and then get accepted to the fast track at MIT. What I take at school is chosen by The Plan. My activities are according to The Plan. My friends. My thoughts. My whole life is about The Plan. I can't eat, I can't breathe, without it being about The Plan." She ran a hand over her eyes. "I do love math and computers. But I don't have the faintest idea what else I might love. I don't know if there's anything else I want to try, anything else I want to do. I'm a senior, and I've never had a single date, or been to a single football game. They're not on The Plan." Tears were trickling down her face. "I hate the goddamn Plan, and I pretty much hate my parents at this point too."
Kim snorted. "Parents are bullshit. Why do they have to put all that pressure on us? So what that they didn't get to fulfill their dumbass goals themselves - doesn't mean they get to push it onto their kids. My dad wanted to be a big sports star, but instead he graduated high school and went to work at the feed factory. So now I have to live it for him. I have to be queen of the track." She blew a raspberry. "I love to run, not gonna lie. But Jesus, I can only train so much. I can only sacrifice so much. And even if I won the fucking Olympics, it's not gonna bring back his glory days. Parents just suck."
"Why are we talking about stupid parents when there's important information to ferret out here?" Jared said, lounging against the railings as he sat on the floor. "For instance - Jensen! Are you in fact . . . a virgin?"
Jensen started. "A what? What the hell kind of question is that?"
"A pretty straightforward one! It's very simple, Jensen. If you have been porked, you are no longer a virgin. If you are still kosher, then your virtue is intact. Which is it?" Jared leaned forward, looking challengingly at Jensen.
"I am not answering that. This question is ridiculous and intrusive."
"What's intrusive is when someone's cock "intrudes" into your ass! Yes or no, Ackles, yes or no?"
"Fuck you, Jared! And who even says I'm gay, anyway!"
"I'm not," said Misha. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Not a virgin, I mean. I don't sleep with guys, but I've slept with girls. Lots of them."
Everyone was quiet, staring at the black-haired boy.
"I don't believe you," said Jensen, crossing his arms over his chest.
"As you choose. Doesn't change the facts though."
Felicia said, "I already answered this," and ducked her head.
Kim said bitterly, "No one wants to date the queen jock, much less have sex with her. I think most guys think I'm a guy too."
Misha said," I don't think you're a guy. I think you're really strong, and strong is hot." His ice blue eyes looked straight at her. Kim blushed and looked away.
Jared said, "I don't think anyone is wondering about my virtue." He pumped his fist over his crotch. "And no, I don't bottom." He winked at Jensen, who blushed in turn.
"I lied," said Misha. "I didn't sleep with a lot of girls. I'm a virgin."
Kim's jaw dropped, as did Felicia's. "What?" asked Kim. "Why - why did you say that then? What the hell?"
Misha shrugged as his eyes wandered around, finally coming back to focus on Kim. He gave her a twisted half-smile. "I lie. It's what I do. Of course, I could be lying now, and you'd never know." He shrugged again.
They all stared at him in confusion for a moment. The PA speaker over the doors suddenly buzzed, making them all jump. Fuller's voice rang tinnily through the speaker, "Five minutes to lunchtime!" The speaker clicked off.
Everyone hurried to their seat except Jared. Felicia, Jensen, and Kim all hissed at him to come back, but he ambled around the tables, ignoring them. A thump at the doors gave notice that Fuller was entering, and the teens all whisper-yelled frantically at Jared. Finally responding to their panic, he ducked under Jensen's table. The wood panel between the table's front legs shielded him, but it made a very snug space for Jared. He had to squeeze himself between the panel and the preppy boy's knees. Jensen gave a little squawk as the taller boy bumped into him, covering it with a cough.
Fuller came in, a satisfied look crossing his face at the students sitting quietly. Then he noticed Jared was missing, and his face darkened. "Where's Padalecki?" he growled.
Jared picked that moment to start playing with Jensen's knees. Jensen yelped, trying to cover again with a cough. Fuller looked at him suspiciously, when Felicia gave a little cough. His head whipped to her, and then Kim was coughing. Fuller walked suspiciously toward the back tables, only to see that Misha was coughing.
"What the hell is going on here?" Fuller barked. "And where is Padalecki?"
Jensen coughed again and cleared his throat, "Just something in the air, I guess, sir."
"It must be spreading," offered Kim.
Felicia said, "Jared just went to the bathroom, sir. I'm sure he'll be back in a minute."
Fuller rolled his eyes, standing with his arms across his chest. "Whatever. Like I care what that wastrel does." Jared was rubbing Jensen's calves now, and Jensen felt him stop for a second. Then the rubbing resumed, only now it was along the inseam of Jensen's thighs. Jensen stuck a hand under the table and tried to push Jared away, pressing his knees together tightly. Jared lightly bit the inside of one knee, then licked across Jensen's hand. Jensen gave Jared a little kick as he wiped his hand on Jared's denim shirt.
"Let's see . . . Ms. Rhodes! Mr. Collins! You two will accompany me to the cafeteria and retrieve beverages for the rest of you! Step lively, I don't have all day for this!" Fuller walked out of the library and down the hall, leading them to the cafeteria. Kim and Misha trailed after him listlessly.
"Why are you here?" whispered Misha to Kim. "You don't do the kind of stuff that gets you a day's detention like this." Kim simply shook her head, her lips pressed together.
At the cafeteria, Misha grabbed half a dozen sodas while Kim ran over to the milk case and got several cartons of milk. Arms full, they followed Fuller back, trailing behind him again. This time, Kim answered Misha's question.
"We were roughhousing in the locker room after a track meet. Things got kind of . . . out of hand. That's why I'm here."
Misha looked hard at her. "I call bullshit. A little roughhousing doesn't buy you a Saturday with Principal Fulla-shit." Kim began to protest, and Misha waved a hand casually. "Don't worry about it. It'll come out. If not now, then later." He moved a step ahead of her, leaving her to fume at the back of his head. When they reached the library again, Fuller gestured for them to enter as he continued on down the hallway.
Everyone settled back at their original table for lunch. Kim pulled out a little softsided cooler and unpacked two sandwiches, an apple, a banana, and some pretzels. Noticing everyone's attention on her, she said, "What? I'm in training."
Felicia had a crumpled paper bag with a peanut butter sandwich. A rustling noise behind her turned out to be Misha, pulling a sandwich and a bag of Doritos out of his black duffel. He added some pixie sticks to the pile before unwrapping the sandwich and tossing the meat and cheese away. He opened the Doritos and shook them onto the bread, topping them with some of the pixie sticks' contents. Putting the top slice back on, he crunched happily. The others all looked horrified at his concoction before turning to their own meals.
Jensen opened his messenger bag and removed a sleek, bamboo print bento box. He took the lid off, displaying a small assortment of sushi as well as a dollop of wasabi, a pair of chopsticks, and a tiny bottle of soy sauce. Jared emerged from underneath the table, stretching as he watched Jensen. Jensen looked up to see Jared staring at the sushi. "What?" asked Jensen. Jared looked at Jensen, looked at the sushi, looked back at Jensen, looked back at the sushi, and walked away laughing. He sat back down at his own table, once again propping his feet up.
Kim and Misha looked at each other, then shared a look with Felicia. Jensen's back was to Jared, but the others saw Jared had no lunch. Kim grabbed one of her sandwiches and the banana, got up, and slid them casually onto Jared's table. He shot a glance at her, but she was already sitting back at her seat, her face turned away. Jared's face showed an uncharacteristic confusion, but then he snatched the sandwich, tore the wrapping off, and dug his teeth into it.
Silence ruled the next several minutes as everyone ate. As Jared finished the sandwich and banana, he picked up the banana skin to throw away. He stopped by Kim's table and spoke in a quiet voice, "Thanks. Appreciate it." She nodded and smiled at him.
Felicia said timidly, "Jared, why did your parents send you in without a lunch? Didn't they know the caf would be closed today?"
Jared stopped in front of the trash can and flung the banana peel into it. "Well, let's see," he said. "Let's break down the perfect family, shall we? A family much like the ones you all have right now. Daddy goes off to work while Mommy stays home and does all the right things to take care of her little family. When Daddy comes home, they might have a couple of martinis, they have dinner, and then it's homework time and off to beddy-bye! Isn't that just a sweet, sweet picture? So . . . wholesome, hmm?" He looked around at them with a syrupy smile on his face.
The smile fell and anger took its place. "Now let's pay a visit to the ol' Padalecki homestead, shall we? Daddy goes off to work if he isn't too massively hungover from his playdate with Jack Daniels, or Jim Cuervo, or the boys down at Sven's Saloon. If he does go off to work, Junior knows that they're gonna eat for the next few days. If he doesn't go off to work, the boys are gonna get hungry pretty quick. And that's just "the boys", you see, because Momma Padalecki got tired of being Daddy's little punching bag, so she hightailed it out one day right after Daddy P went to work, and they never saw her again. Didn't give two shits about leaving her little boy behind."
The others exchanged nervous glances and shifted uncomfortably in their seats as Jared took a breath. "Now it's just the two of them living there, Daddy and Junior. Makes it easy for Daddy to watch over his dear little boy, especially when Daddy wants to get some boxing practice in. He beats the shit out of Junior on a regular basis, until one day Junior realizes he's bigger than Dad now, and he stops Dad. He tells dear sweet Dad if the beatings don't stop, Dad will be the one in the hospital next time. The threat works, but Dad still takes every opportunity to tell his precious progeny what a waste he is, how he's trash, that he's not good for shit. Every. Goddamn. Day."
Jared stops, breathing heavily. "So fuck all of you. Your parents don't understand you? They're stomping all over your life? Yeah, I feel for you. I cry big, fat, fucking crocodile tears for you. Fuck you all!" He spun and ran off to the back of the library.
No one spoke for a while. They all sat at their tables very quietly. More than one table had tears surreptitiously wiped from its surface.
12:30 p.m.
The tension eased with a little time, which there was no shortage of today. The teens got up one by one and began meandering around the library, looking for something to do.
Jared was sitting on the aerial landing, and he called softly to them as the rest of the group wandered underneath. "Hey, guys, up here!" He waved a baggie full of a dry, crushed, leafy material.
The came up the stairs and settled around him. "Is that really pot?" asked Felicia, her eyes wide.
"You bet, sweetheart." Jared quickly rolled a few joints and passed them out. A chorus of coughing broke out upon lighting up, but it only took a couple of puffs to get the hang of it. They lounged around toking and passing joints, little white tendrils of smoke wafting into their nostrils and the air. Everyone partook - Kim passed on the first couple of circulations, but then she finally took a joint, shrugged, and inhaled.
It must have been pretty good weed, because the clowning around started fairly quickly. Felicia went downstairs to the AV booth and put tunes on. Laughter broke out from everybody, and then they started dancing around. Kim and Misha goofed around together, Kim giggling and Misha with a huge smile on his face, putting a surprisingly charming expression on him. Jensen danced by himself, lost in his own little world, grooving to his own head. Jared sat and watched him, his face surprisingly peaceful. His eyes followed every move Jensen made - he was totally absorbed. Felicia came back out and started goofing around with Misha and Kim, her face unexpectedly animated.
After a while, they returned to lounging on the landing. Misha was still smiling when he said, "Hey, you all wanna see what's in my bag?"
Puzzled looks were exchanged, and Felicia said, "Um, sure. You got some cool stuff in there?"
Misha dumped out his backpack, and it looked like Mary Poppins' carpet bag unfolding. Clothes, books, food, water bottles, even a little travel pillow fell out.
"Jesus!" exclaimed Felicia. "That's a ton of stuff! Why are you carrying all that?"
"I want to be ready for when I run away," Misha said, giving her a piercing look. "Whenever it is, wherever I am, I'm ready."
Jensen asked, "Why are you running away?
Misha regarded him for a long moment, "My home life is . . . unsatisfying."
Kim snorted in derision. "Dude, everyone's home life is unsatisfying. What makes you a special little snowflake?"
Misha jumped to his feet and ran off. The others looked at each other in shock.
Kim swore, then she jumped up and ran after him. She found him a couple of stacks over, looking at the Wild Bird section. "What's going on? Did I say something?"
"It's not what you say, it's what you do."
"Okay, what did I do to you?"
"You ignore us. You're too elevated to deal with us, people like me and Felicia. We're beneath you."
Kim's eyes studied Misha's face. It was free of drama, and she was struck by his forthrightness.
"I . . . I'm sorry," she said bluntly. Misha nodded.
1:22 p.m.
"Have you done it?"
"Have you?"
They were all sitting back at the landing again; it was like their private tree fort. Talk had turned from parents to sex. Specifically, who and who had not had it.
Felicia said, "I already copped to being a virgin - I'm out." She looked around at the rest of them. "So?"
Jensen said defensively, "It's no one's business but my own." He was sitting very straight against the railings, his arms crossed in front of him.
"What, you're too good to tell us? We get to share ourselves with you, but you don't have to reciprocate? That's fucked up, man." Misha said, an edge of disgust in his voice.
Jensen flinched. "It's not like that. It's just - you don't know what it's like, being really popular. Everyone wants to be your friend, suck up to you. You never know who to trust, who to believe. And something like this? It's important. It matters. I'm not just giving that away to anyone."
Felicia laughed, but there was a sob in her throat. "Jesus, Jensen, you're so conceited. You think everything is about you, that everyone is thinking about you. And you know what? We're not. We have our own lives to deal with. So get over your bad self, dude. We're just trying to be your friend here."
Misha nodded, adding, "What the smart redhead said."
Jensen sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's just - there's a lot of pressure all the time. And I never know who really gives a shit or who's just angling to be my new best friend. It makes it really hard to trust anyone." He looked at Felicia and then at Misha. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant it like that. And for what it's worth - I'm a virgin too."
Jared spoke up, "Why is that, Jensen? Don't want to go out unless the girl is prettier than you? Or is it that you don't actually like girls at all?"
Kim and Felicia gasped. Misha remained quiet, but darted a quick look at Jensen. Jensen's face closed up, an expression of disdain on his features. "Only you would ask that, Jared. It's really none of your business. I have a lot of friends and I choose not to date, so there."
"Uh-huh. I buy that. Because I always see ridiculously good-looking, rich guys with perfect hair and flawless clothes not having hot girls around him all the time. So if that ain't happening - and it ain't - there's got to be another reason. Like the guy prefers dick instead." Jared stared at Jensen, his eyes pinning him like a butterfly.
Jensen stared back . . . until he broke. He dropped his eyes, then looked across the library, finally bringing his eyes back to Jared's. "Fine! Okay! I'm gay! Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm gay! I just told my parents last month, and now they're busy volleying the blame at each other while they pretend and tell me it's just fine. I can't trust a word they say anymore - all they care about is which of them is at fault and who's ahead of the other." His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I don't have a clue about any of it - what it means, how to be it. I just know that I am."
Felicia scooted over and put a hand on his. He looked at her, taking in her soft smile and kind expression, and some of the stiffness fell from him. He gave her a half-smile back, and put his hand on hers.
"I feel like I have to prove all the time what a tough bitch I am," Kim said bitterly. "God forbid I feel compassion or anything less than complete aggression. All my parents want is for me to score a big athletic scholarship so they can ship me off to college."
"Yeah, tough girl? I'd say more like bitch girl. And it's not just because you think I'm 'not worth anything'. I heard what happened in the locker room the other day. I may be obnoxious, but you - you were cruel," Jared growled.
Kim's eyes filled with tears. "You're right. You absolutely right. I was cruel. And you know what? I never want to be that person again. I was so wrapped up in trying to prove how tough I was to my dad that I traumatized that poor girl." She wiped at her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.
Felicia asked, "What happened?"
Kim sighed, looking at the ceiling for a moment. "It was after the track meet on Thursday. We lost. It was really close, but it came down to the relay. We had a new girl on the team, and she got flustered, I guess. Meets are so different from practices, with the noise, the cheering, I guess it distracted her. We lost. We were in the locker room afterward, and there was a lot of teasing and razzing at her, and it . . . escalated. We ended up all crowded around her, picking on her, and we pushed her out of the locker room. And we locked it so she couldn't get back in."
Misha said, "I don't get it."
Kim tried to speak and had to clear her throat.
"She was naked."
Everyone was silent, visualizing the girl's panic and then comprehending Kim's guilt.
"I never thought I could do something like that . . . but now I know I can. And I'm gonna live with that knowledge, and spend the rest of my life making sure that I never - never - hurt another person like that again."
Misha slid next to her, bumping her shoulder with his while busily not looking at her.
2:07 p.m.
They sat around in a companionable silence, enjoying just relaxing, still slightly buzzed.
Felicia asked dreamily, "What happens Monday? Will the cool still acknowledge the uncool? Will we have broken the unwritten laws that rule the hallways?"
Jensen spoke with sadness in his voice, "I don't think so, Felicia. I wish it were different, but that's how it is."
Jared scoffed, "Fuck you, Ackles! What's your fucking problem?" He kicked Jensen's feet, earning him a scowl.
"I don't like that that's how it is, but it is! Sue me! I don't write the goddamn social code here!"
"No, you're just an asshole like the rest of them!" Jared turned away.
Misha said, "I don't have any friends, so it's not an issue for me." He hummed quietly.
Felicia frowned. "Jared's right, Jensen. That really sucks. I wouldn't do that to my friends. I won't do that."
Jensen sounded resigned as he said, "You don't know how bad social pressure can be. I'm only human."
Felicia snorted, "You're so full of crap, Jensen. Poor, poor you, crushed under the crowd of wanna-bes and groupies." She blew out a breath, a hitch in the middle of it. "It's not always about you, y'know? We have lives too. We have problems too. Do you know why I'm here today?" Looking around, she was met with curious looks. "I'm here because I had a gun in my locker. I had it in my backpack and then I took it out and it was in my locker. They found it during a surprise locker check." She gasped a small sob out, wiping her eyes before continuing. "I'm a 4.0 student, I take AP everything, calculus, physics. But I have to take home ec as a graduation requirement, and I screwed it up. I had to bake a cake - a cake - and I couldn't get it to come out right. I'm failing home ec, and it's going to ruin my GPA, and I couldn't stand it. So I brought a gun to school."
They were all staring at her, all except Jared who was rapidly shredding a magazine into a little paper pile.
Felicia choked out, "Except it was a flare gun."
They all broke out laughing.
As they caught their breath, Misha said, "I didn't do anything to deserve detention. I just didn't have anything better to do today."
3:25 pm
Felicia put on some DVDs, playing through the speakers of the A-V room. They danced and danced, shaking the day's inactivity from their legs and the stress from their minds.
Kim pulled Misha aside. "If you really feel you need to run - call me first," she said. "Okay?" She pressed her number into his hand. Misha stared down at it, an almost uncomprehending look on his face.
"Really?"
"Really," she smiled at him. "Now c'mon - let's dance!"
Jensen was dancing by himself when Jared came over. "You know, it's not so bad liking boys," Jared said somewhat awkwardly. "You're pretty good-looking - you could probably score some dates, get in the swing of it. People kind of mind less than you think they will."
Jensen studied the tall, handsome boy. "Is that so?" he replied. "Is that what you think?"
Jared reached down and took Jensen's hand. "Yeah, it is." He laced his fingers through Jensen's, and slowly pulled him into a dance.
Felicia was getting her groove on, enjoying the music and watching her fellow inmates. She smiled, feeling very connected to them all. She was, at least for the moment, supremely content.
Jensen came over to her. "Hey," he said. "I've been thinking about the essay. I thought - maybe you could write it." She looked at him with surprise. "See, you're the smart one. You know what to say and how to say it. We all feel the same way about this whole thing, right? And you know what today - how it's - "
She nodded, "Yeah, I know." Patting his cheek, she said, "I got this." Jensen smiled at her, a real smile that brightened his face and made him not just pretty, but beautiful. Felicia beamed back at him.
"C'mon," Jensen said, taking Misha's elbow and leading him to the men's room. Misha clutched his big black duffel bag tightly, but let himself be guided.
Inside the men's room, Jensen lathered his hands up before putting them on Misha's face. He gently worked the lather all over before leaning Misha over the sink. He ran the warm water and told Misha, "Rinse." After Misha rinsed the soap all off, Jensen gently patted his face with paper towels. Misha opened his eyes and Jensen gasped softly. "Dude, without all that junk on you? You look amazing. Amazing, Misha."
Jensen combed water through Misha's wild hair, working out the tangles. He had grabbed the small kit bag he always carried, and now Jensen pumped some hair gel into his palms and began to work it through Misha's black hair. Rummaging through Misha's duffel, he found some eyeliner and applied a delicate line around the boy's bright blue eyes. Lotion on Misha's rough cheeks and lip balm on his chapped lips, and Jensen smiled in satisfaction.
"Why are you doing this?" Misha asked quietly.
Jensen smiled. "Because you're letting me," he replied.
"Okay now, stand up and take off that sweater," ordered Jensen. Misha complied, dragging the baggy black thing off and standing there in a plain white t-shirt. Jensen had looked in his messenger bag and found a light gray cashmere v-neck sweater vest. He shook it out now and carefully pulled it over Misha's head, patting it into place over his t-shirt with a pleased air.
"Ready?"
"Um . . . sure." Misha looked nervous.
"It's gonna be okay," reassured Jensen. "Just wait and see."
The reaction to Misha's new look was a host of dropped jaws and wide eyes amid stunned silence. Jensen saw them all looking at different things. Misha's bright blue eyes, startlingly enhanced by the touch of eyeliner. His wide, soft lips. His gorgeous, thick hair, now that it wasn't a rat's nest. His trim body, well-defined by the clingy cashmere instead of being hidden by the bulky black thing he'd arrived in.
"Misha - wow!" Kim looked awestruck.
"Yeah! Dude, you look awesome! Way to go!" said Jared with an approving smile and a thumb's up.
"Oh, Misha!" Felicia clapped happily. "You're beautiful!"
"Uh, thanks. It's not too . . . weird?" he asked hesitatingly.
Kim came up to him. "No, not weird at all. Nice. Really, really nice." He smiled slowly at her, his eyes nervously flicking to and away from hers until she took his hand and led him back to the aerial landing.
Jensen came up to Jared, looking at him with a small smile on his lips. "What was that all about? You make a habit of performing male makeovers?" asked Jared, giving Jensen a puzzled look. Jensen put his finger to his lips and pulled Jared after him. They went around a corner and then Jensen was pulling open a door and dragging Jared inside, closing the door behind them. They were in a small storage closet, lined with metal shelving that hosted a crazy assortment of cleaning products, bits of various machines, and other detritus.
Jensen faced Jared, placing his hands on Jared's face and pulling it down to his. He kissed Jared, softly at first, barely pressing his lips to the other boy's. Pulling back to look at Jared and make sure that was okay, Jensen brought their mouths together again with greater pressure, moving his lips against Jared's and delicately running his tongue along the seam of Jared's mouth.
Jared jerked back, looking wide-eyed at Jensen. "What the fuck? What are you - what the hell are you doing?"
"Kissing you, Jared. I thought that was pretty obvious," Jensen said with a smile. "Is it okay? Do you like it?"
Jared's face was distrustful. "Well, fuck yeah, I like it. I like it a lot. I just don't get why you're doing it. Did the fucking bluebird of happiness crap on your head this morning?"
Jensen shook his head. "No, I'm kind of . . . feeling things. Good things. And I feel something really good for you." He kissed Jared again chastely. "I'm not making any promises - honestly, I don't know if I could keep any yet. But right here, right now, Jared, this is what I want to be doing with you." He kissed Jared again, but now Jared reacted. He wrapped his arms around Jensen, holding him pressed against every inch of his body. He kissed Jensen back, meeting every press of lip and thrust of tongue with his own, until the two boys were completely bound to each other, their bodies moving slowly against each other.
Jared broke the passionate embrace, panting a little as he said, "We should go back. They'll be looking for us." Jensen nodded reluctantly - he knew Jared was right. And the day was winding down, which meant Fuller would probably be back one last time.
4:55 pm
Back at the tables, Felicia reread the finished essay with a satisfied smile. "There," she murmured, kissing the paper. "That'll do." She placed the paper on her table, weighting it with a mug emblazoned "Librarians Do It by the Book" she borrowed from the librarian's desk.
Misha sat with Kim at her table, hands clasped. They talked quietly, foreheads close together.
Fuller didn't return to the library after all. Instead, he simply flipped the PA on and growled "Get out of here, you morons." They didn't need to be told twice; grabbing their coats and bags, they flew out the door and down the hallway to the entrance.
Kim and Misha walked out together, still holding hands. Misha walked her to her dad's SUV, stopping her before she opened the door. He tenderly placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her, gently moving his soft, wide lips over hers. "You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek before he stepped away. Her eyes were wide and sparkling as she looked at him.
Kim got in the SUV and it drove away as Misha watched. He sighed and turned to his mother's Prius, hopping in the passenger seat and barely getting his seatbelt latched his before the car zoomed away.
Jensen stood in front of his dad's Mercedes, looking up at Jared. Jared's mouth twisted as he tried to smile. "So . . ."
"Yeah," Jensen replied quietly. He darted a glance at his father through the windshield before clenching his jaw and defiantly turning his face back to Jared. Skimming a finger along his jaw, Jared bent and kissed his mouth sweetly as Jensen ran a hand through the long, chestnut hair.
Jared broke the kiss, stepping backwards from Jensen. "I'll see ya . . ."
"Wait!" Jensen followed him, standing close to him. "Here . . . " He put something hard in Jared's hand, closing his fingers around it. "So you'll know . . . " He put a hand around Jared's neck and pulled him down again, kissing him hard, a brief swipe of tongue along Jared's bottom lip. Then he was gone, slamming the Mercedes door behind him as the car pulled away from the curb, Jared standing there watching him go.
Fuller stomped into the library to make sure the little brats were gone, and that they hadn't destroyed the library. He saw the paper lying under the mug on the front table and picked it up to read. It said "Who We Think We Are, by Felicia Day" across the top, and he could hear her soft, clear voice in his head as he read the essay.
Dear Principal Fuller,
We accept that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention to atone for what we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to try and force us to spell out to you who we think we are.
You see us as you want to see us; using whatever definition is simple, whatever label is convenient. But what we found out today is that we supersede those roles. We are more than just one definition. We are all a nerd, a jock, a nutcase, a princess, a bad boy. We deserve more than a convenient label. And we refuse to be considered so simplistically anymore.
Your question is void.
This is all we have to say.
The Farrago Society
The Mercedes lost to sight, Jared looked down and opened his hand. On his palm, Jensen's Rolex glinted gold, like treasure in his hand. He curled his fingers up around it, holding the fist to his mouth, closing his eyes tightly to keep the tears from escaping. With a deep breath and a shake of his head, he opened his hand and slipped the Rolex on his wrist. He walked away briskly across the football field, not noticing the chilly air and the falling dusk. Halfway across the field, he could no longer contain the swelling joy in his chest. He yelled loudly in a jubilant cry as his arm punched up into the air.