"Uh, hi," she responded, her small frame overloaded with her enormous purple backpack, her violin in one hand, a poster board tucked under her arm, and art supplies in another hand.

"Good, you brought everything. Thanks," he said, moving out of the way so that she could make it through the door. "I have the basement all set up for us to keep working. My computer's down there and all the paintings Tabitha suggested are on file down there." It was their second time working together,

Dylan still wasn't happy about working with Macy on this, but at least they were accomplishing something, which was better than he could say for his other friends in class.

Macy nodded wordlessly, her mind still in orchestra mode, she had been working on a mildly complicated song, and one note kept messing her up, so her mood wasn't the best currently and she knew working with Dylan certainly was not going to make it any better, but this project meant a lot to her and she did not want to screw it up. She followed Dylan towards the basement, slowly though, the amount of stuff hindering her movement, but it also gave her a moment to examine her surroundings. Medals upon medals, trophies upon trophies of Dylan's athletic achievements, and the same went for Tabitha's artistic achievements lined the hallways of the large home. Another particular thing she did notice was the utter lack of family pictures. It struck her in an odd way.

"Here, let me take something," he told her, noticing how much she seemed to be struggling down the hallway. All he needed was for her to fall down the stairs, break her neck, and leave Dylan to work on the project alone.

"Huh?" Macy asked suddenly shaken from her silent observances. She wordlessly handed him the poster board and art supplies. "You have a lot of med-," Macy began, but screeched instead as a large black dog bounded up to her. She nearly dropped her violin case, which gave her a near heart attack.
Dylan put the art supplies down on the floor as his black lab bounded up to see him. "Hey, Max," he said and he kneeled down to play with the dog, patting him around the neck and back. "He won't hurt you. He's a big baby," Dylan said over his shoulder to Macy.

"I think I just experienced the closest thing to a heart attack a 16-year old can experience," Macy gasped. Dogs, she was not a fan of, she had been attacked by a dog when she was a child, and she had been unable to shake the experience ever since.

"I'm serious. I bet you that Max is more scared of you than you are of him." He noticed Macy pushing herself up against the wall away from Max, and he said, "I'm serious. You have nothing to worry about. He doesn't bite and he doesn't jump. Pet him. He won't mind."

"No, I'm good, really," Macy squeaked, pressing herself up as close to the wall as possible. "I'll just take your word and that will be that, kay?"

"No, seriously, come on. I promise you that he won't do anything. This dog is less scary than a mouse. Why are you so scared of him?" Dylan continued to play with the dog, trying to prove to Macy that she didn't need to worry.

"Dylan, don't you think we need to work on our project?" Macy insisted, slightly breathless. She tried to squeeze past the two, but did not succeed.

"Yeah, but touching the dog first won't kill you. Max is a stubborn thing. He won't like it too much if you just walk past him. I'm serious. There is nothing to worry about," he tried to convince her.

"I believe you, really, Dylan, but I'm just not a dog person," Macy insisted. Apparently the dog wasn't the only one who was stubborn.

"Suit yourself," Dylan sighed. He picked up the art supplies and carried them under his arm and headed towards the basement stairs, but Max wouldn't let Macy through the narrow corridor. "Max, let her through," he called, but the dog ignored him.

Macy backed away from the dog, she felt like she was going to pass out anytime now. "Dylan...," Macy began. "Please get your dog..."

"Max, come on," Dylan yelled, frustration evident in his voice. He shook his head as the dog ignored him and continued to shake its black tail while looking up at Macy. Dylan tossed the supplies back down again and grabbed Max by his collar, but the huge dog resisted. "I'm serious. I don't think he's gonna let you through until you pet him."

"I'M NOT TOUCHING THE DAMN DOG, DYLAN!" Macy shouted.

"I'm serious," he yelled back. "I can't move the dog. He weighs like 80 pounds and his center of balance is too low. He won't move. He does this sometimes. He's really a pain in the ass. Just pet him. I'll help you if you need." He really didn't see why she wouldn't just touch Max. It wasn't a big deal. Max was scared of his own shadow. He wouldn't be able to hurt Macy. Oh, damn it, I feel like a girl, Dylan thought as he reached his hand out to Macy.

Macy tried to pull her hand away, but Dylan was much stronger. He placed her hand on the black coat and Macy tried to think of anything other than where her hand currently was. But, as Dylan moved her hand along, she realized how soft the shiny black coat was and that the dog that was nearly equal to her in weight had not turned and bite off her arm yet. She still trembled a little and blushed in embarrassment at the whole predicament.

Max barked happily and turned to lick Macy's hand. She shrieked and the dog jumped back, scared of her yell. Max then trotted away. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dylan asked. Before Macy could respond, he grabbed the supplies again and finally headed down the stairs to the basement.

Once they were down in the basement and a long awkward silence had ensued, Macy finally spoke up, "I was attacked by a dog when I was five...it nearly killed me."

"But you're fine now, aren't you? What happened?" he asked. And before she could answer, he looked up at her from across the table where they sat and said, "I'm sorry about Max. He does that sometimes."

"Its okay, not like you knew," she responded quietly. "Well, I ran from the dog, and he chased me down, hit some major artery or something, I've got scars around my neck and collarbone." Macy tugged slightly on the collar of her shirt to reveal some faint scars on her collarbone.

Dylan nodded, his eyes shifting to the spot on her neck where her normally smooth, light skin was interrupted by a series of lines and raised skin. "I never noticed that before."

"You never really noticed me until you were stuck with me as a history partner," Macy said with a casual shrug, as she gently set her violin down next to her book bag.

His eyes followed Macy as she put the case down, and then rose back to the table. She really was cute. Why couldn't she be more like her sister? "Yeah, well, it's not like we hang out with the same people. And it's not like you ever paid any attention to me either."

Macy nodded and shrugged. She had paid attention though, how could she not, he was one of the most popular guys in high school, whether she chose to admit it out loud or not, she had noticed him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dylan asked. Macy was strange, and he had no idea what was going on in her head, but he knew that she probably wouldn't answer him. "Whatever," he finally said. "Let's get to work. Can you draw? I can't, and I don't want to ask Tabitha to help out anymore."

Why do people always have to talk, why can't they just listen, Macy wondered to herself. "Yes, I can draw," Macy responded. She sat down on the floor in front of the poster board and grabbed a pencil out of the art supply box. "What my response meant early was just that its hard not to notice you because you're popular," Macy responded, placing stress on popular.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Dylan commented. He rose from his seat at the table and walked over to the computer desk. He searched around for files until he found the MP3s he downloaded illegally and then played them. "Some music to go in the background of the presentation, maybe."

Macy began patiently sketching out the letters for their poster board. "It's not a bad thing," Macy responded cryptically. "I have the Chicago soundtrack, it has some good Dixieland jazz that will work well, too."

"It won't sound too modern?" he asked, looking back at her hard at work for a moment. He printed out the paintings that Tabitha saved for him online and organized them by date they were painted before throwing them on the floor next to Macy. "Sounds fine. You can see what of those you like the best."

She frowned at how rudely he tossed the paintings. And for a brief, fleeting moment he was less of an asshole, but that moment was entirely too brief and too fleeting. She just ignored the paintings and continued with what she was doing. "Well, its definitely modern, but it is a good imitation of the period, and it will appeal to the class more if they recognize it."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's true." He grabbed the rest of his information from the printer after the computer slowly processed the last sheet, and then he joined Macy on the floor. "This stuff here is a timeline of the period, a list of books and movies that take place then, and some of the popular trends. We should probably pass out the timeline. What other ideas do you have?"

"I didn't think of it, that’s good," Macy replied, her focus never leaving the poster board. "I think incorporating power point is still a good idea, everyone will respond well to visual stuff, we've got the movie clips, the music, if we wanted to be total idiots we could wear clothing appropriate to the period," Macy laughed.

A look of disgust crossed Dylan's face. "I hope you're not serious. I'm not playing dress up." No way in hell would he ever live that down.

Macy sat up and looked directly at Dylan. She didn't like the idea of it either, but watching Dylan squirm more than she made the idea very pleasant. "We would guarantee ourselves a 100."

He shook his head animatedly. "No. Way. This year has been embarrassing enough for me with the whole football thing. I'm not dressing up like some 20s mobster. If you want to dress up like a flapper, be my guest, I won't mind. But absolutely not."

"Its only been embarrassing because you have made such a big deal of it all," Macy snapped. "Besides all your football buddies and friends will think you look like a pimp or something in a mobster costume." She rolled her eyes and turned back to what she was doing. "But, I'm not going to dress up like a flapper and you not dress up, that will defeat the purpose entirely, so there goes that idea."

"Yeah, but people would expect that more from you," Dylan answered, and as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have said them. The look on Macy's face instantly changed and Dylan's eyes widened. Oh crap, he thought to himself. "I mean, cause you could pull off the look. You'd look good as a flapper."

"Oh nice try, but its obviously a cover," Macy snapped. She turned back to the board, as soon as she finished this she would be out of here and on to better things than Dylan Guthrie. "You are going to drive me crazy before this year is up."

"Maybe you can complain to Chris Mason about me," he muttered. Everyone thought that Macy had a crush on Chris, whether Macy knew it or not. It was about time she saw reality anyway. He was so frustrated with how uncooperative she was, that he didn't care what he said anymore.

Macy threw the pencil down, though she never shielded her annoyance with people, it took a lot to really ruffle her feathers. And Dylan had just succeeded. "Could you please just get over Chris? You're making yourself look like the bigger loser here! Remember when Fred Durst tried to say he banged Britney, but he acted like such a jerk, everyone knew he was full of it. That's this situation, Dylan!"

"Fine, Macy, say whatever you want. Think whatever you want. I really don't care. But you need to get over yourself, and your own act. You're so caught up in hating me that you'll take any little thing I say or do and use it against me. So I might as well say what I'm really thinking and not bother trying to get you to at least tolerate me for this project. Because I really don't care if you hate me," he said. He was completely exasperated with her. And he'd finally been able to say what he'd wanted to about her for so long.

Macy leaped off the floor, "I never said I hated you Dylan! And this is a two-way street here! I'm not the only one who's being snappy and intolerable and acting like they dislike the other person, so don't act like you are merely an innocent bystander to my so-called act and inability to get over myself!"

"You have no idea what people say, do you?" he asked, her, looking at her carefully in the hopes of reading her expression.

Macy drew back, "what in the world are you talking about?" She was suddenly more mellow, curious as to what Dylan had to say.

"You look at the popular kids like we're diseased or something. Like you hate everything about us. That's your opinion, fine. But I'm sure you have to wonder what we think of you," he answered.

"I think you've done a pretty good job of expressing your opinion and what your friends think of me...," Macy trailed off, Dylan was right, she was curious, but she was not going to ask out loud.

"I've never said what my friends thought of you, other than the fact that you're in love with Chris Mason. And saying that has nothing to do with my wanting to kick his ass, I promise you that," he said, seeing a spark of interest in her eyes.

"I'm not in love with Chris," Macy replied coolly, wondering how in the world anyone would believe that. Chris was the one always approaching her, looking to her for advice or for someone to talk to.

"Besides, he and Em have been Chris and Em...for like ever. That would just be weird."

"Weird doesn't mean you don't like him. You can deny him all you want. But that's what everyone thinks. They also think that you're intentionally weird. Like you want to be different for the sake of being different, to keep people away," Dylan explained.

Dylan's friends were capable of thinking on that level? She remembered what Chris had said at the party and she quickly shook the rude thought away. "So what's your excuse, Dylan?" she asked, easily turning the situation around on him.

"My excuse for what?" he asked.

"Let's see my friends think you are intentionally arrogant and jerky to shield your own insecurities at not living up to some expectations you hold for yourself, but can't quite seem to meet, maybe its too supplement that your parents are never around, because that I have noticed, so you choose being popular because you have that overwhelming need and desire to belong to be liked," Macy explained and her eyes never left his. If he was going to play dirty, so was she. Something changed in Dylan's eyes and she wondered if she had crossed the line.

He blinked slowly before breaking eye contact. "I think we got enough done today. You can leave whenever you want."

Macy released a pent up breath of air. She had won this, but it didn't feel good, even to someone who had basically brought it upon himself. She wanted to say something like, 'we're all screwed up, Dylan,' but the situation was delicate, and she had a terrible fear of breaking the thin thread that connected them in some peculiar way. Macy put her art supplies back, slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed the poster board, and her violin.

 

Scene 2

The hallways were deserted for the most part except for the only sound made by the JV football players being forced to jog the halls.

"Hey Catherine," one of the guys called as he jogged by.

Catherine gave him a coy smile and a look that clearly said, 'in your dreams.' Once he turned the corner, the halls were empty again. The only sound, the click of her red Jimmy Choo's on the tiled floor. She slowed her saunter as she approached the classroom door of Mr. Jency's. It was half-way open and she could hear rustling coming from within. Catherine raised her hand and gently rapped on the door. She peered around the corner before he could respond.

"Mr. Jency, can I speak to you for a moment?" she inquired, all charm and niceties. When he nodded, she slipped past the door, closing it more behind her. She approached his desk, a little less saunter in her stride than normal. "I just wanted to ask you about your reasoning behind the grade on my essay over Hemmingway's Old Man in the Sea." She slid the paper across the desk towards him and flipped her newly turned blonde hair over her shoulder.

If she was going to be valedictorian, grades like this were simply not going to work for her. And now with Damien around, she actually had a run for her money. She felt her face furrow in annoyance at the thought of Damien, the cocky bastard. Who did he think he was? Trying to get into Darcy's pants like that. Damien may be the type to enjoy a challenge, but he had no idea what he was in for. "I'm sorry what was that, Mr. Jency?" Catherine asked, realizing he had spoken to her. She intentionally leaned forward on his desk, her v-neck red sweater giving Mr. Jency an eyeful.

Eric Jency looked up at the girl in front of him. She was more woman than girl but he couldn't afford to think of her as anything but a girl. Catherine Fairchild knew how she looked and used it to her advantage. He'd seen her in the halls and the way she talked, walked, dressed had made more than one or two of the boys in the school take notice. Even a couple of the teachers had commented on it.

"I said, your thesis was sound but your documentation was lacking. Aside from that, I've seen better from you, Catherine. This was a shoddy attempt at best," he repeated for her.

Catherine had written exactly what she needed to, exactly what Mr. Jency would be looking for in a paper covering the themes of Old Man and the Sea, which to top it off was a wretched piece of work in Catherine's opinion.

"I fail to see where the documentation is lacking. I detailed my points without throwing in sentences for the sake of space. This book has been beat to death by so many literary analysts as it is, it's hard to find something to say about it that hasn't already been said," Catherine explained, determined not to settle for the grade. She gave Mr. Jency a smile to soften her words. She leaned against his desk, slightly sitting on it, her dark denim jeans clinging to her body.

He tried to ignore her very female presence keeping his eyes firmly rooted on the stack of papers in front of him. It would never do to let a teenager get the better of him.

"If it's been beat to death, why don't you choose something else then? If you do another paper on a book of your choice, I might be convinced that it was the subject and not your work that was lacking."

Did it look like she had time for that? Catherine groaned and slid off the desk, her back to Mr. Jency, and she knew that the hem of her shirt was slightly lifted to reveal a small, secret expanse of back.

"Any fiction work?" she asked, turning her head to look back at him over her shoulder as if in heavy contemplation of his offer, a smirk on her face as if she had something good up her sleeve.

"Anything within reason, Catherine," he answered looking up with relief only to find himself staring at the bare skin of her back. Fortunately it was just her back and she couldn't see the red creeping up his neck.

"Within reason? What does that limit me to?" Catherine asked. She whirled around and looked Mr. Jency squarely in the eye, palms flat on the desk in front of her, leaning over with a direct shot of her...natural, ample cleavage. She was pulling every trick she could out of the bag to make Mr. Jency as nervous as possible. If she tested him enough, she was hoping he would drop the new paper idea and offer her the points she needed for at least an A.

Eric looked up, narrowing his eyes at her. He'd heard this before but not from someone as smooth as Catherine Fairchild. Hell, he'd tried it himself a number of times. The only thing he didn't have that Catherine was trying so hard to assert was a body that most women would kill for and most men would die to get near.

"You're stalling Catherine. Either take the grade as is or do another paper. Your choice."

"I'm asking you this, so you don't turn around when I turn in my new paper and say that the work I selected isn't appropriate, or too contemporary, or something else along those lines. So just tell me if I can choose any fictional work and do an analysis," Catherine said, dropping all the games. If she had to do another paper, well she would do it with a bang, and she wasn't going to be stuck with anything less than an A.

Catherine gave Mr. Jency the once over. What was his name again? Eric? Ah, yes, Eric? It just rolled off the tongue. A masculine, sexy name, something that made her think of fairy tale princes and heroes. She could just imagine breathing it out while he was on top of her. Oh, that whole forbidden teacher relationship fantasy...it was so hot...so tempting.

"Catherine, if I didn't put any restrictions on you, what would you choose?" Eric asked getting exasperated. Giving her an A would be worth it to end this circular argument, he thought crossly.

"I have some ideas," Catherine answered cryptically. "But, I'm not sure exactly, so I'm simply trying to find out your limits." Catherine doubted, Mr. Jency would read into that the way she intended, but as Darcy said it, 'Catherine's-mind-was-always-in-the-gutter.' She shrugged and paused to sweep her long, blonde locks into a ponytail, looking out the window as she did so, but not missing how Mr. Jency's eyes briefly fell to the bare expanse of stomach that was exposed when she lifted her arms. I am simply too good for words, Catherine thought with an inner smirk.

"My limits," Eric repeated, taking another look at Catherine Fairchild. "Are none of your business, Miss Fairchild. Now either take the grade as it is or write another paper. I think I've been pretty fair in giving you another chance. Be smart and take it. And this time Catherine? Put some effort into it. I know you're intelligent. The whole school knows it. But show me, all right?" He added closing his grade book.  "You've got a week to change the grade."

He got to his feet and picked up his leather satchel from the floor. He kept his eyes on the books and papers he was randomly snatching off his desk to stuff into his bag and his thoughts away from Catherine Fairchild and whatever temptations she thought she was offering.

Catherine rolled her eyes and slid off the desk. "I asked a rather simple question, you don't have to be derogatory, and you never really answered it, so I'll just go with what I want," Catherine stated, not bothering to shield her annoyance. She was right. She knew she might not have exerted herself on the paper, after all she was juggling four honors classes, trig, lacrosse, and a very important social life, most teachers would eat up what she had written. Hemmingway was so overrated. She picked up her Louis Vitton handbag, gave Mr. Jency a charming, but knowing smile, "you." She knew she had gotten to him and she had seen that interest spark in his eyes. He was a man after all. "Have a great day, Mr. Jency." She sauntered out of the classroom, she caught his reflection in the glass of the door, noting him making a quick glimpse at her retreating figure.  That Mentor and Protégé relationship, so tempting.

 

Scene 3

Catherine caught Darcy at their lockers. They had been avoiding each other lately and what was so annoying, was how the whole school had to make it their business. Everyone had to ask what was up, and a few smart alecks had to ask what destroyed the happy couple. Catherine hurried over to catch her.

Darcy heard heels that could only belong to Catherine clicking rapidly on the floor, after all, she was one of the few girls who wore them everyday, her feet looked like Barbie’s. She shut her locker and started to quickly head in the opposite direction, but something stopped her.

"Hello, beautiful," Damien cooed.

Darcy rolled her eyes, great she was going to be stuck between the two people she currently hated. "Get a life, Damien," Darcy said and tried to slip past him, but nearly collided with none other than Carla Kilgore. Why did everyone have to be in her way, get in her way, and basically annoy the hell out of her when she was having an I-hate-all-people-day?

"Excuse you," Carla sneered.

"No, excuse you, bitch," Darcy said, which was the only name she used to refer to Carla Kilgore and Carla was smart enough to not get in her face when they weren’t on the field. She knew Darcy could take her down in a matter of seconds.

"Ladies, c’mon-" Damien began.

"Damien, shut-up," Darcy replied as she heard Catherine finally zero in on her and the two other unwelcome people, but she noticed something strange. Carla had her arm loosely looped around Damien’s waist and he had his draped over her shoulders. There was no way...

"Damien, I hope you use sanitizer before you fool around with this," Catherine said, pointing a manicured finger nail at Carla.

Carla’s eyes narrowed and her fist clenched at her side. Darcy sent her a look that could intimidate the devil, it clearly read ‘don’t even think it.’ Everyone knew that Darcy and Catherine were a team whether mad at each other or not, if someone hurt the other, the other hurt the person who inflicted the pain. It was a sort of mutual defense pact for the fact that they were constantly stirring up trouble whether they were the ones who started it or not.

"Shouldn’t it be the other way around?" Darcy asked, eyes narrowed at Damien. She didn’t like how she was physically responding to this. It wasn’t just the fact that it was Carla, it was the fact that Damien had his arm around her.

But, undeterred as usual, Damien smirked and said, "You know you want it, Darcy."

"No, unlike you Damien, I have taste," Darcy replied coolly in return, which caused Carla to lunge at her, but halt herself before she touched Darcy.

Darcy closed the distance between them, "Have you actually got the balls to do this instead of slashing me on the field when the coach has his back turned?"

Catherine noticed even Damien, who would normally love something like this, looked a little concerned. Darcy and Carla has a lot of animosity built up towards each other, but Darcy could put Carla in the hospital if she wanted to. They had drawn some attention and a crowd was quickly forming.

"C’mon, we gotta get to class," Damien said, gently putting a hand on Carla’s shoulder. He knew Carla did not stand a chance against Darcy, Damien did not even knew if he stood a chance against Darcy.
Carla dropped her shoulders and unclenched her fists.

"I didn’t think so," Darcy responded darkly, the surprising gentleness and concern of Damien’s tone only increasing her anger. She knew by the end of this year, she might end up killing Carla Kilgore.

Scene 4

Day Two in Darcy Mad at Catherine; Catherine felt horrible which naturally she transposed into a form of livid rage, lest anyone realize she wasn’t nearly as shallow as she led on.

"Gee, Cat, where’s your significant other?"

Catherine frowned at the voice as she hit the automatic lock button on for her Lexus. "Carla, could you be more high school?  All you need to do now is key my car." Catherine sauntered ahead her high heels clicking in the pavement, normally the thud of Darcy’s boots could be heard next to her, but not this time.  Darcy was still seething with anger at Catherine. Catherine knew that it really had less to do with her than it did with Darcy herself, but she had no idea how to deal with it. Providing sympathy to others had never been her forte.

"I think slut would be far more appropriate," Carla taunted.

Catherine slowly whirled back around to face Carla, "Wow, you’re just begging for it aren’t you?"

"Begging for what? Are you and your Gucci heels going to kick my ass?" Carla demanded. "I mean you don’t have Darcy around to back you up."

"So is that why you’re going in for the kill because you know Darcy isn’t around and because on the lacrosse field she can’t touch you," Catherine returned, she rarely lowered herself to this level, but like she had noted Carla was all but on her knees begging. "And by the way, Payless, the shoes are Manolos."  In fact, she normally left the dirty work to Darcy and Catherine realized that that was where one of the problems lay.

"Please, Cat, all you have is your money to back you up," the slightly larger blonde continued as Catherine gently set her handbag on her car and removed her heels with deliberate slowness and set them next to her handbag. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting ready to kick your ass," Catherine replied calmly and with that she launched herself at Carla, slamming the girl up against a car, not her Lexus of course. At the commotion, a crowd quickly formed and several people made shocked exclamations at the sight of Catherine actually doing the fighting and not Darcy. Catherine even surprised herself as she pinned Carla to the car and proceeded to use a technique she had learned from Darcy; which was slamming the opponent’s head in to any close and hard surface. Darcy knew better than to fight fair. But all of a sudden, Catherine was being pulled from her opponent by an invisible force. She tried to jerk herself free, but was held in a firm grip. Carla pushed herself off the car, but it took her awhile to regain her composure, the back of her head smarting from the many blows Catherine had caused it. Carla walked over to her and delivered a swift blow to Catherine’s ribs. Catherine bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. The bitches had planned this. Well, they were smarter than she gave them credit for. Carla straddled the struggling Catherine while her assistant kept Catherine’s arms firmly locked behind her.

"Not so superior now are you Cat?" Carla asked.

"If superior means being smarter, richer, and better-looking than you, I doubt that will ever change, Carla," Catherine cooed. She was fully aware of the predicament she was in, but that didn’t stop her from smarting off. Catherine quickly moved her face to the side when Carla moved to hit her, but it only prevented Carla from hitting her nose. Along with the pain echoing in her ribs, Catherine now had a slightly lesser pain in her face. She was already looking forward to the principal calling her mother. Catherine stiffened, preparing herself for another blow, but one never came. Then Carla’s assistant released Catherine. Catherine looked up to see Darcy with Carla pinned beneath her on the hood of someone’s car. She delivered three solid blows to her face and Carla’s assistant, who Catherine now recognized as Madison St. James, a large, dopey girl, knew better than to interfere. And before Catherine could think about jumping Madison, school officials broke through the crowd, and at the head of the crowd was Mr. Jency. Catherine groaned. This wasn’t going to help the whole ordeal over her Hemingway paper.

 

Scene 5

"Macy, can I borrow this?" Emily asked as she twirled a multi-scarf between her slender fingers.

Without looking up, Macy merely nodded, a pencil balanced on the corner of her mouth, her hair topped above her head in a mess, and composition paper scattered all across the kitchen table.

Emily shrugged, knowing better than to interrupt these little artistic epiphanies of Macy's. She flicked her watch in place on her wrist. Chris and Jason were due anytime. Emily pulled on her jacket.

"Where are you going?"

Emily was surprised Macy even noticed she was leaving, or even in the room for that matter.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but as soon as she did, Jason and Chris came in through the back door. Macy looked to them in surprise. Emily normally informed her if she was having friends over.

"We're going to the library to study for world history, I was going to invite you, but since I got home, you've been immersed in your compositions," Emily explained.

Macy nodded, suddenly realized she must look like a mad artist with her hair stacked and going in every direction atop her head and with a few pencils stuck in it to top it off. Her reading glasses were on and she felt embarrassed to be seen this way especially by Chris. Gawd, Dylan was right. And what made it even worse was the secret they shared, now; Chris had yet to talk to Emily. Macy swallowed hard.

"Macy, maybe you need a break," Emily offered as she watched some inexplicable play across her twins face. Macy was so difficult to read, always complex and always mysterious.
"Sure, why not come with us?" Jason piped in. "I doubt we'll be doing a whole heck of a lot of studying. I bet we could even talk Chris into buying us some dinner." He elbowed Chris playfully as they leaned against the counter.

Chris shrugged half-heartedly. All of this had been Jason's idea to get him out of the funk he had been in since the beginning of the school year. He also had the vague idea that Jason wanted to see the McCormick twins for his own personal reasons but he let that go. No need dredging up something that was likely in his own imagination.

"See? We could even go to a movie afterwards if you want...or we could go to that new B&N for coffee."
The idea of being around both Emily and Chris made Macy a little queasy, and she didn't really know Jason, although when he had first come to the Glen, she had had a huge crush on him...mainly because of his cool accent.

Emily saw the look of hesitation on Macy's face. "C'mon, Mace, it will be fun...or would you rather study with your history partner...Dylan Guthrie?"

Macy dropped her head down to the table, "oh, please don't remind me of that, for a brief while I completely forgot. Why did you get Emily, Chris? She’s my twin.”

For some reason, Jason thought trying to keep his _expression neutral, someone always throws Emily at Chris and he isn't noticing. In fact, if anything Chris looked as if he wanted to run away. "Well, could be worse!" Jason put in with a laugh. "So what do you say, Macy? Want to come along?"
Macy wondered if Jason had noticed what she had noticed which was that Chris seemed less than thrilled to be history partner's with Emily. Macy could not figure out whether that relieved her or annoyed her. "Sure, I'll go," Macy said, noting the way Emily looked at Chris, and the way Chris did not look at Emily at all.

Emily beamed, "awesome, c'mon Mace!" Emily pulled Macy from her place at the table.

"My uh...papers...someone might-" Macy began, but gave in to Emily's enthusiasm.

Once in their room, Macy pulled a jacket and beanie out of her closet.

"I'm glad you're hanging out with us, Mace, does this look okay?"

Macy looked up, barely acknowledged the outfit, "yeah, sure," she shrugged.

Emily frowned, when it came to clothes, the only person she go to for advice was her practically adopted sister Catherine, as for Macy and Darcy, clothes were merely what they had to wear.

Had what Emily said translated into, I'm glad you are giving my friends a chance and not assuming they are all trivial people? Macy stuffed her books in her bag and followed Emily downstairs to where Chris and Jason looked as if they had been in discussion.
Once the girls had left them, Jason turned to Chris ready to give him a heads up about the way he was acting. Chris, though, seemed to already know.

"Don't start on me, Jason," he said quietly playing with Macy's pen. "I know you think having Emily as a partner would be the best thing since sliced bread but I'm just not that excited about it. But I'm not a jerk. I'll be nice to her. So no lectures okay?"

"Okay. No lectures on you being nice to Emily. How about one on what the hell is wrong with you these days?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look Chris, I'm not the only one who's noticed that you aren't quite yourself. It didn't just start with Dylan either. Man, I know your mom is gone and your dad is being a jerk, but don't use them to be such a prick."

"I'm not!" Chris returned hotly. "I just don't know why everyone is making such a big deal about everything! First it's Dylan and that dumb football team. Now you and Emily about this history class. Why don't you guys just be cool like Macy and back off?"

"Like Macy?" Jason echoed. "Is that what this is about?"

"Okay, one more time, what are you talking about?"

Jason nodded his head emphatically. "Yeah it is. I saw you talking to Macy at Dylan's party. You go out of your way to be nice to her even though most of your friends think she's a freak. So, I'd say you've got a little crush on your girlfriend's sister."

Chris turned a dark shade of red. "She's not my girlfriend," he mumbled.

"Oh? You might want to tell her that," Jason remarked as the girls reappeared in the kitchen.
Macy had a feeling doing this was going to be a bad idea, she could easily back at now, use the upcoming scholarship try out as an excuse, but she found herself continuing on.

"So Barnes and Noble?" Emily asked the group.

Macy wondered if Emily even noticed the tension in the air or the looks that had been on Chris and Jason's face when they returned to the kitchen. Was Emily that oblivious or was there something more?

 

Scene 6

"Why the hell did you do that?" Darcy demanded.

Cat shrugged, "well, I figured what did I have to loose if I beat up Carla? And I would have, had that cow Madison St. James not interfered."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I mean, the bitch has been giving us nothing, but hell all year. It was pissing me off, and she was anything, but asking for it when she approached me this morning," Catherine explained. She rubbed her bruised rib cage in annoyance. "They set me up. How did they know I’d take the bait?"

"I’m sure they didn’t, but they gave it a shot anyway. You know they, or well Carla, is smarter than we give her credit for," Darcy stated.

"Yeah...we used to be friends. She’d come to my birthday parties every year and try to show me up, but I’d figure out something. One time I spilled cranberry juice on her dress," Catherine explained with a smile.

"So you were born this way."

"Born what way?" Catherine asked, finally turning to look at Darcy, though Darcy did not return the look.

"You know, always-gotta-be-the-best and always-gotta-be-the-center-of-attention way," Darcy explained finally looking straight at Catherine.

Catherine sighed and looked away, "yeah."

"At least you can admit it."

"Is that what all this is about?" Catherine asked tentatively.

"No, look Cat, you’ve been that way since the day I met you, I accept it, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t feel the need to be the center of attention, myself, so it’s not like there is a conflict there, but it hurt like hell in the locker room that day. You were like confirming my worst fears about myself," Darcy explained.
Catherine knew how much it took for Darcy to admit that. This conversation itself took a lot for both of them.

"Darcy, I know you’re not stupid, but I look at Jareth, and you are a lot the same way, and give me some credit, that is the first time you have ever mentioned an interest in higher education," she explained.

"I don’t want to be like Jareth. Jareth is just lazy, it’s that simple," Darcy explained. "I can give you props for that, but you gotta give me some credit too."

Catherine nodded as a shadow moved across the blinds that hung in the principal’s office. She knew this drill. A little talk, call Eleanor, call Tavish, maybe a Saturday detention. Catherine wasn’t too concerned and by the looks of it nor was Darcy.

 

Scene 7

Catherine took the pack of ice from Mr. Jency and bit on her lip not to smirk. She could not deny how good she felt about her little scrap with Carla and Madison. Darcy leaned leisurely next to her, no scratches or bruises, a look on her face that said she did stuff like this all the time and it was no big deal. They looked so much like opposites, Catherine in her soft pink, tight sweater, miniskirt, and heels, Darcy clothed in a hockey jersey, cut-up jeans, and boots. But both girls were dark-haired and always looking for a little trouble. Catherine gently touched the pack to her face. The principal's office was never an unknown territory for the two and they were used to getting off easy. They followed a simple routine where they played cool, parents were contacted and never surprised, and they left with none or minimum punishment. The Fairchilds had the financial backing and the McCormicks the reputation. Mr. Jency was new to the equation though and Catherine was curious as to what his purpose in this was. Darcy seemed equally as curious.

"Well, girls what do you have to say for yourselves?" Mr. Yamaguchi, the principal, asked.

Catherine normally did most of the talking. "We were merely defending ourselves, Mr. Yamaguchi," Catherine replied smoothly.

"Rumor has it that you started the fight Catherine," he replied, obviously trying to make Catherine crumble a little. It was futile, her exterior was marble, polished and expensive.

"How would anybody know, sir, no one was around at first?" Catherine replied with a casual shrug. "I'm sure Carla is saying the same thing, but I assure you I would not attack unless provoked."
Eric couldn't help but roll his eyes at Catherine's bravado. Granted fighting wasn't ladylike but it was certainly a lot more attractive than this guerilla attitude she was displaying to the principal. He was certain there was more to this girl than sex and defiance but she was a master at hiding it. He'd agreed to be present for this meeting without knowing why and he was beginning to regret it. After all, what could he possibly add to it? He was the new teacher after all. He barely knew Darcy McCormick and knew Catherine only slightly better.

Maybe if he directed more of his questions to Darcy, he could figure things out better. "Darcy, what about you? Why did you join in?"

"Well, my best friend was the victim of an unfair fight, I could not just stand by and let Carla Kilgore kick her in the ribs," Darcy replied and shrugging her shoulders helplessly as if she simply could not control herself.

Everyone thought Darcy was fairly simple and most of the teachers, except for her physics teacher, talked to her as such. She knew if Mr. Yamaguchi continued to talk to her in such a tone, Darcy might start throwing around some f-words. So Catherine decided to intervene. Leaning forward and almost wordlessly demanding that Mr. Yamaguchi look at her.

"Mr. Yamaguchi, Darcy is in no way to blame for this. She merely did what any good friend would do. She saw I needed help and she helped. You can't reprimand that, can you?" Catherine asked, not too sugary, and not too slimy. She did it with the expertise of a well-seasoned politician.

Eric couldn't resist interrupting. Mr. Yamaguchi was a good guy but he was completely snowed by these two girls.

"Catherine, you don't really think that breaking the rules is acceptable do you?" He asked from where he stood leaning against the wall behind the principal's desk. Catherine turned her eyes toward him and tilted her head slightly gazing at him.

"I don't think Catherine said that..." The principal began.

"She didn't have to," Eric interrupted. "But her defense of herself is pretty weak. A physical attack against another student is a major infraction of the rules. Regardless of who the student is or the reason behind it." He looked back at Catherine. "I'd like an answer to my question. Do you think it's okay to break the rules? Or are you above the rules?"

"It's all contextual, Mr. Jency. That is my answer," Catherine replied coolly, in no way expressing her annoyance with Mr. Jency. What was with this guy? Why couldn't he just play the game and stop disrupting the flow? "I could not simply let Carla beat me and cross my fingers for when you showed up. I had to defend myself and Darcy had to help me defend myself since I was clearly being ganged up on. I'm sorry, Mr. Yamaguchi, but it was the only option I was given at the time."

The laugh escaped Eric's mouth before he could suppress it. The principal turned to stare at him, his eyes goggling at him. "Oh come on! That's the biggest load of..."

"Mr. Jency!"

"She broke the rules. All of them did. Every single girl involved in that fight deserves to be punished in some way. This song and dance Catherine is giving you is just a gloss. Look at her. She isn't even sorry about the fight."

"It's hardly that black and white, Mr. Jency," Catherine replied in the same cool tone she had been using the entire time and when Mr. Yamaguchi was not looking she made it a point to give Mr. Jency a cold stare and she made sure he noticed. As soon as Mr. Yamaguchi turned back to her, the look instantly melted off her face to the look of concern and sincerity that she was so cleverly fooling Mr. Yamaguchi with.

Darcy noticed Catherine grind her right heel into the floor and Darcy decided this time her intervention might be needed again. "Mr. Yamaguchi, look," Darcy began, lacking the niceties of Catherine. Catherine turned to her, wondering what she might be planning, but Darcy pressed on. "We know our record is not exactly clear and that fighting is against school policy, but we were defending ourselves, and while that may be against school policy, I think anybody else in that situation would have done the same thing. So if we have to be punished for our actions, then so be it, but we won't apologize for them."

A tiny grin tugged at Catherine's lip. Darcy was just a bundle of surprises these days.

"Well, Cat, Darcy, I should remove you from the lacrosse team for this..."

Both girls could not suppress their eyes from bulging. Darcy swallowed hard and bit her lip.

Catherine gave Mr. Jency another scathing look, while Mr. Yamaguchi was not paying attention. It the prick had kept his mouth shut, they would be in the clear now.

"I started the fight," Catherine said, dropping her game, and using Darcy's form of point-blankness. "Darcy intervened because basically I was getting my ass kicked. While it may not appear so, she was in a sense being a good Samaritan. She does not deserve losing her spot on the lacrosse team. I'll forfeit my position so that hers is not taken."

Eric rolled his eyes at Catherine's martyr act. Still, she did admit to being in the wrong at least. Maybe there was something honorable in her after all. No one could be that slick and insensitive. Besides, the principal's idea of punishing them was detrimental to the school. The girls team actually had a good shot at going all the way to Nationals.

"You know what, Mr. Yamaguchi? I don't think you should take either one off Lacrosse."

"What?"

All eyes in the room turned to stare at him. He shrugged and offered, "You'd be punishing the team not just them. I have a better idea. I could use some help with the after school program Miss Giamati and I are advising. Why not assign them to us as assistants?"
"I have to work after school," Darcy replied.

All Catherine wanted to do right now was make a little miniature Mr. Jency and stab needles into it.

Darcy turned and looked to Catherine, who of course had never worked a day of her life.

Catherine shrugged, "I have lacrosse practice on Tuesday and Thursday, but all other days I can." She sat back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, one leg crossed and swinging back in forth with annoyance."

Darcy looked at Catherine and tried not to smirk. Well, Mr. Jency had successfully killed Catherine's crush or any remote liking for him and possibly endangered his life.
"If it would be easier," Eric added with a grin. "You both could just help on Saturdays. That's really the day when things come together. And you'd be free to do what you want or have to during the week. Is that better?"

"Well, that's fantastic!" Darcy exclaimed, not even bothering to shield her faux sarcasm and contempt. "Can we do it all day?"

Mr. Yamaguchi did not bother to reprimand Darcy, the girl...and the McCormick family in general was pretty intimidating...except for Emily, the normal twin.

"We can't do it on tournament days, but that should be our only interference," Catherine replied after a moment.

Eric gave her a pensive gaze. She was giving up too easily. Then again, her type never gave up really. "Fair enough," Eric replied. "I'll see the both of you this Saturday at The Mason Foundation. We'll meet for about an hour before we head out to Pleasant Manor."

On the next Episode of Secret Horizons...

She smiled tentatively at the contact.  Surprised, Jory nodded with a half smile. She was very pretty with shoulder length blonde hair and deep blue eyes. The woman’s eyebrows pulled together in a slight frown and she bit her lip as if she were unsure of herself. With a shake of her head, the smile returned and she got to her feet, crossing the room in strong even steps.

Episode 175