Charles Hill's Story

Lacey moved robotically, letting Amber do what she will with her. It didn't matter to her that her skin was all blotchy and red and that she probably looked beyond a hot mess. Was there even a thing like that? She let those thoughts puzzle her as Amber helped her clean her face and walked her out of the bathroom.

Why couldn't she have family like Amber? She had perfectionists who didn't give a damn about her. Hell, Lacey didn't even give a damn about Lacey. A not-even-amused smirk crossed her face for a split second. Amber loved her - like, loved her loved her. It was that love Gracie should have for her instead of the slight jealousy mixed with false affection she shows. Amber's love for her reached a level that may even surpass Lacey's mother's.

Nobody likes Lacey.

She then glanced at Amber, who still had concern on her face. She faintly heard Amber say something about inviting someone and followed the beautiful - why was everyone else beautiful and Lacey was so fucking average? - girl's gaze to Nathan Miller. Lacey's own eyes narrowed for a second. She did not understand her relationship with Nate yet. Were they really friends? Did she simply bide his time? Plus, with the dreams, there was always something about him that stirred Lacey wrong...

"Sure," Lacey replied. She then extended her voice to the male lying down, not caring if he was sleeping or not. "Nathan! Nate! Come with us! We're getting milkshakes." Sighing, Lacey pulled out her phone. She muttered to Amber, "Might as well make a shindig out of it. I'm texting everyone." She sent a mass text to everyone, inviting their group to get milkshakes if they wanted to come. Who cared about school anyway? Mom does, her mind taunted and she told it to go fuck itself. Lacey managed a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes at Amber. "Thanks...for coming."

Not wanting to further be emotional, Lacey plastered an even bigger smile on her face and slid into the passenger seat while Amber moved to the driver's. Glancing at Nathan quickly, she banged on the horn. "Come on, Nate! Get up already!!"

"Hey Charlie I've been looking all over for you!" A small girl's chipper voice called from across the library making Charles, along with everyone else turn to look at her. Seeming to be unaware of the irratated stares and the stern look from the librarian the girl skipped over to Charlie her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders with everystep she took. The girl plopped down next to him a huge grin on her face as she flipped some hair over her shoulder and stared at him waitingly.

Charles only smiled at her, unsure of her name as she snuggled in closer to him.

"What are you reading that has your attenton so much, I've been standing over there for an hour waiting for you to notice me." The girl said trying to look at the object Charlie was holding.

Charlie quickly slammed the book closed and tucked it away in his backpack hoping she hadn't seen it.

"I didn't know you were one for literature." The girl giggled as she hugged his arm. "You know you shouldn't be ashamed, Moby Dick is actually a good book." She continued looking up at him.

Charlie let out a relived sigh glad she hadn't seen what he was really reading.

"You know you have really pretty eyes." Charlie cooed softly trying to change the subject. The girl blushed and looked away momentarily before returning her gaze to his.

"T-thank you." She finally got out, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Of course, love." Charlie responded decidng on using a pet name in place of her real name.

"Are you ready for our date tonight?" Charlie looked down at the brunette as she regained her composure, an eyebrow raised before hiding his confusion with a fake smile.

"We're going to have so much fun, I have the perfect ou-." The girl was cut off by the soft dinging of Charlie's phone, signaling he had a text.

Taking out his cheap battered phone Charlie opened the text. The girl peered over his shoulder curiously making Charlie throw irritated glare over his shoulder at her.

"Who's Lacey?!" The girl yelled letting go of his arm and standing up.

Guess she saw the text. Charlie thought bitterly looking up at the brunette now towering over him, her hands on her hips and her cheeks no longer red from embarrassment, but in anger.

"Look I can explain...Hannah." Charlie said quickly trying to come up with an excuse so she wouldn't explode.

The girl let out a hurt hiccup. "My name's Emily!" She then yelled stomping off without even letting Charlie get another word out of his mouth.

All eyes landed on him as 'Emily' exited the school library. Charlie quickly ran a hand through his hair feeling self-conscious at the number of stares. Shoving his phone back into his pocket and readjusting the comic book that was starting to fall out of the huge Moby Dick book, Charlie zipped up his backpack and heaved it over his shoulder, heading for the parking lot deciding that the last 40 minutes of school didn't matter that much.

"These milkshakes better be worth it." Charlie mumbled grumpily as he exited the school.

Stopping in the parking lot, and at Amber's car window, Charlie knocked on the window. Making a motion for her to roll it down he began talking.

"Aren't you girls looking lovely today....and I guess you too Nate." He commented a playful smirk on his face. Turning his attention to Amber he winked.

"Enough room in the back for me?" He asked.

Strutting into the diner behind everyone an arrogant smile laced his lips. Following everyone to a table he sat down next to Violet.

Lacey was grinning when a few of her friends piled in to the car. They almost pulled away when she saw Charles and gave Amber a look to not leave yet. Once they were stuffed in the back, Amber pulled off and Lacey leaned back in the passenger seat. She grinned at Violet and Nathan as they both spoke.

"Well, I want milkshakes 'cause milkshakes are awesome, my treat. Isn't that festive enough?" She winked at them, flashing them one of her most brilliant smiles. It was better this way - her keeping her own issues in instead of letting them know now. She was Lacey. She was the fun one. What did she look like not being happy and smiley and ready for action? She continued talking even as Charles got in the car, smirking at his compliment. "I invited everyone. Not sure if they all are coming. Less money I'm spending anyway."

As Amber drove off, Lacey decided to brighten the mood by chatting about the upcoming party. It was tonight and Lacey was, of course, going to be the DJ. Everyone was required to come; no excuses. She didn't give a damn about homework or practices or anything of that nature. Hell, Lacey herself was blowing off education. If she, the girl who currently was in the top percent of the class, was blowing off homework, her friends could as well. Anyway, some senior named Max was throwing the party and while Lacey conversed lightly with the popular people, she did keep in the loop and that meant she always knew what party was going to happen. Besides, this was a welcome distraction, she decided.

And she needed all the distraction she could get.

"We're here," she exclaimed excitedly and was the first to hop out of the vehicle. She linked arms with both Violet and Amber, dragging the two girls inside with her to find a booth. A male waiter, this guy that Lacey had seen a few times with her older brother but never spoke to, came over to them and while Amber dismissed him by politely telling him that they were waiting for more people, Lacey sat with a smirk, whispering to Violet, "The siren Amber strikes again. Another lovestruck fool is seduced." She giggled at her own little joke before leaning into Amber and elbowing her gently, "Hmmm...he's cute. Sure it's only a milkshake he's willing to give you?" Lacey could only laugh at the blush on Amber's face. Lacey decided without even having to look at a menu what she wanted. She always ordered a chocolate peanut-butter shake. Yes, it was weird and probably obnoxious with all the chocolate sauce and whipped cream, but it was Lacey's favorite. She turned her attention to the others.

"So, how is everyone?"

Something terrible happened. The playboy of the group, Charles, has arrived, trademark charming smile and roving eyes as he squished his way into Amber's backseat. He gave his customary compliment to the girls, and Violet rolled her eyes, trying to get rid of her irritation with the fight earlier. Shed also have to be careful from now on, and just use her left hand for everything. No need for anyone to see the blood; Violet's own business, and no one else's. Though, knowing Amber, the my business shlick won't work, and she'll force her way into the problem.

"If you say that to every living thing with boobs, playboy, doesn't that just make us all average?" She jeered, a mix of cruelty and friendliness in her words. "Be honest for once, and focus on Amber. She's the hot one, after all!"

Ah, that Amber. Sure, they're close friends, but Violet's not a complete idiot. She's seen the looks Amber gives Nate every now and then... so, while they are friends, Violet also thinks of Amber as competition. And since when does this manic girl ever back down from a competition?

Lace began talking about the party she was invited to, Violet grinned and pounced excitedly. A party! One of the perfect ways on making a guy realize that you are, in fact, a female organism, and you can blame your slutty actions on the alcohol later on! She could find an excuse to kiss him, or maybe even touch him. Violet made a mental note to google the more intricate matters of seduction, since Violet only really knows about kissing. Everything beyond that is unknown territory. She almost jumped at the electric shock as Nate elbowed her in the side, the sensation sending heat and anticipation all at once in a semi-epic flinch.

"Nate!" Violet shouted loudly, masking the pink on her cheeks, and her own nervousness, "If I can drink more milkshakes than you, you'll have to dance with me at the party! It's a challenge!"

How oblivious can you get? He better realize it by now, at least! Sheesh! Idiot! Stupid Nate!

Once seated at the diner, squeezed comfortably between Lacey and the playboy, Charles, she shared a joke with her awesome and suddenly back-to-normal singing buddy over Amber and the waiter, commenting on that, if Violet were a guy, she'd totally do... indecent things to the red-headed girl. If Amber was blushing, her face after that must have been priceless to look at. Violet then ordered a coconut milkshake, something surprisingly tame for her, and while everyone else was distracted, she grabbed at a napkin on the table, and tried to rub off the dried blood from her hand. It worked to some extent, and she shoved the napkin into her sweater's pocket for safekeeping. She then took out her phone and sent a text to Lacey, with her somewhat effective stealth to keep the boy in question from seeing it.

-Lace! You're gonna be my wingman for the party, right? Try to find a way to get us alone! I'll do whatever you want, okay?-

No need for Amber to know. Sorry, buddy, but I'll have the advantage as long as you don't know i'm here!

Lacey then asked the table how they were, and then it occurred to her that, while everyone else here is mostly liked and welcome, would they really let Violet at the party at all? She downed one shake, and then ordered another hastily, making sure to win her bet with Nate. Then she was pensive again. It'd take a total idiot not to notice the stares she gets at times, and she often hears Taylor defending her to her parents whenever Violet acts out in front of them, or gets notices from her teachers at school for bad behavior. What if they didn't let her in? What if her being there ruins the mood? After all, she's an outsider.

"Kinda stressed, actually." Violet said with a bit of a scowl. "Folks at home are putting on the pressure for me to at least apply for a college or some crap, but what's the point? Not like I'd study there anyways, right? How stupid can you be? You gotta be smart to get into shit like that, right, Lace?"

---

Amber's embarrassment continued as the two girls joked about the waiter, and more about her attractiveness, she couldn't help but crack a smile and shake her head at the two. She giggled with them but was still blushing pretty hard. She whined with a light tone asking them to stop, and they did as Violet brought the idea of the party back up. She yelled, basically loud enough for everyone to hear challenging Nate to whoever could drink more milkshakes, the prize being a dance. Amber herself thought it was obvious Violet liked him, but she knew her place. Her and Violet were close, but not the type to talk about boys with. Considering their conflict of interest. It was easy that both of them were aware of the other's attraction, though Violet seemed sure of hers and Amber's was more of an idea to her. Amber couldn't tell if she actually like Nate or not because he sometimes didn't give her the time of day. That was only an expression though, because he seemed to carry a watch everywhere and wouldn't mind pulling it out any chance he got. She didn't let Violet's flirting bother her, because if her friends were going to be happy together, who was she to stop them? Sure there was a little jealousy but Nathan wasn't hers to begin with. Or so she thought. Going to a party would be fun though.
She wasn't a bad dancer, considering she'd been a dancer for a while. Though she switched to gymnastics, she could still move her hips pretty well, and was very graceful overall. Since Lacy would be more focused on djing, Amber would probably be dancing the whole night nearby where her best friend was. She liked parties, because she felt in her element. There were people, and much conversation to be made. She hadn't been to a good one in a good amount of time, so this did excite her a bit.
Charles had also come with them, but so far he hadn't said much other than his casual compliment greeting. She liked Charles, and thought he was very funny and charming. He could be somewhat conceited at times, but Amber felt he had a good heart and she enjoyed his company. She could easily see why many girls fawned over him. It was then that Violet caught her attention, who'd grabbed a napkin and began rubbing at what looked like to be dried blood. She stared for a moment, maybe trying to make an assumption as to not accuse the girl, as Violet pulled out her phone.
"So, how is everyone?" Lacy asked, making conversation.
Amber herself was doing fine, if anything she was worried about how Lacy was. Well now she was actually wondering why Violet had blood on her hands, and if she should be concerned about that. She was still a bit embarrassed, and slightly wondered if the waiter was going to come back and continue to pursue her. She debated how she felt about this. Maybe if Nathan was going to be flirting and dancing with Violet all night she would invite the waiter on a date or something. People did that right? Got people's numbers and invited them to parties? Sure. It was an open party after all.
Violet answered Lacy's question first though, "Kinda stressed, actually. Folks at home are putting on the pressure for me to at least apply for a college or some crap, but what's the point? Not like I'd study there anyways, right? How stupid can you be? You gotta be smart to get into shit like that, right, Lace?"
Amber's stomach dropped. Considering Violet had no idea why they'd even gone to get milkshakes in the first place, it wasn't really her fault. But, it was probably the wrong thing to say. The redheaded girl quickly jumped in, sticking her nose into other's business as always. She decided to figure out what had happened, and changed the conversation in hopes of Lacy ignoring the comment or letting it slip. It was unlikely, but she could only hope.
"Omigosh, Violet!" she said, slightly abruptly, "What happened to your hand? Was that blood?" she reached over Lacy and took her Violet's hand in hers. "Are you okay?" she said, sounding concerned.
Though it was started for a distraction, Amber did actually care to know. She'd planned on asking her later, maybe more privately considering Violet probably didn't want to talk to everyone about it, but Amber acted on an impulse.

"Omigosh, Violet!" Amber cried, completely out of the blue. "What happened to your hand? Was that blood?"

Okay. Okay, maybe she should have washed her hand before meeting up with them. That'd have been smart. But, come on, Amber didn't have to just scream it out, especially in front of Nathan. Violet inched her hand farther down the table, starting to sweat. What if this was on purpose? It might've been a ploy to give Amber the edge in their mutual crush on Nathan, but that's just a huge what if. Considering the fact that Amber's the sweetest person in the universe, and that she might not even know about Violet's feelings, this is probably unlikely. Chances are, Amber couldn't help being the sweet, caring, and somewhat tactless girl that she is.

"Eh? Uh, theres... nothing at all, what are you talk-"

Almost as if trying to prove it, Amber reached across Lace and grasped Violet's hand. She looked deep into her eyes as she asked if she was okay, and Vi couldn't bear to look back into the eyes of her friend, shame and guilt burning her chest. Violet's mind and face both went blank in a split second, and then she wrenched her hand away from the redhead, almost violently covering it up form anyone's view. It's not as if her friends weren't aware of the fighting, she's sure that they heard the rumors. But that's all it was, just rumors. Super Hero Violet is a part of her life that none of her close friends were meant to know. Especially Nate, and Violet purposely looked away from him, not willing to see his reaction; to see what kind of face he's making.

"I'm... fine. Okay?" She let out a tense, unconvincing chuckle. "Not even my blood... just got in a little fight, that's all! Nothing to worry about...!"

"Even if I wasn't fine, it doesn't matter, just an outsider after all..." She muttered, not knowing that everyone could hear her. She hastily changed the subject, obviously.

"So.. the party! Yeah, the party, will there be drinks?" She asked through her teeth. "A shot of champagne'd be great just about now..."

"Folks at home are putting on the pressure for me to at least apply for a college or some crap, but what's the point? Not like I'd study there anyways, right? How stupid can you be? You gotta be smart to get into shit like that, right, Lace?" Lacey tensed when Violet began talking about pressure and home. If only she knew, Lacey thought before nodding in agreement, the same smile from earlier plastered upon her face. Thinking about it, Lacey was pretty sure she could make for a decent actress. Few people knew when she was acting and when she was not. At this particular point, Violet was definitely the latter.

Don't get Lacey wrong; she loved Violet. Violet was this ball of hyperactive fire that kept Lacey on her toes. It was exhilarating, to say the least. Amber was her best friend, sure. Amber kept Lacey's mind out of the more depressing situations because Lacey was too busy trying to get Amber to just have fun. They could talk for hours and when Lacey didn't want to be brave and just wanted to be a girl, she would cry with Amber. Not saying that she couldn't do that with Violet, but there was a level of closeness that Amber and Lacey had and Violet hadn't reached that yet.

Which was why she chose to say, "Yeah, I understand. But tonight, it's about us and fun. And damnit, I'm gonna enjoy myself!" Now that she thought about it, she did not want to burden her friends with feeling bad for herself. No, there were greater, more fulfilling things than getting into Stanford.

"Omigosh, Violet! What happened to your hand? Was that blood? Are you okay?" All at once Amber spoke, leaving Lacey to observe in shock at the blood on Violet's hand. It was smeared and nearly dry. Amber reached over and Vi snatched away just as quickly, her mumbling caught by Lacey's ears. Lacey's eyes narrowed at the girl, a silent demand of an explanation.

But it could wait. Lacey wasn't like Amber. Amber cared deeply for everyone; loved everyone. She would demand an explanation if anything ever happened to anyone and would want the full story. Lacey, on the other hand, had a different approach. Certain situations were meant for privacy. This was one of them.

"She said she was fine, Amber. Just leave it," Lacey exclaimed, waving her hand carelessly. "Besides, I want my milkshake now. Who cares if the others aren't here yet?" Lacey signaled the waiter over and while waiting, she added to Violet with a crooked grin, "And champagne is for babies, hon. Max said that one of his friends is a bartender and you're gonna want something a little stronger before the night's over." She winked and giggled before cutting her eyes at the waitress flirtatiously, "Hi, love. I'd love a peanut-butter and chocolate milkshake and Red over here wants vanilla. And, if you're interested, her number is..."

Lacey didn't even get to finish telling him because Amber let out something akin to a shriek and elbowed her, causing Lacey to erupt into a fit of giggles. The waiter only chuckled in amusement before walking away to put in their orders, claiming that he would be right back. Before he could get away, though, she called, "Oooh, and some sweet potato fries. And don't forget about these guys!" Smirking at a flustered Amber who decided to pout, Lacey turned her attention to the boys. "So, you guys coming or what?"

Oh, yet another friendly face. What do you know; young Charlie, the playboy of the group, decided to join us for some milkshakes. I gave him a nod and smiled as I responded to his usual charm.

"How many times have I told you, Charlie... I'm just not that into you." I said, giving him a smirk before shaking my head. Charlie was always like this. With generally everyone in the group, whether they were male or female. Although it seemed like his flirting with the guys was nothing more than a running gag. Shows how close we all are, if nothing else. His soul has always been this type, so I've been used to it for quite some time, as I'm sure you can imagine. After greeting everyone, he piled on into the backseat of Amber's car, sliding in on Violet's side.

Upon feeling my nudge, Violet exclaimed out of startle, which was far away from my intentions of elbowing her. And...of course...because of this, she chose to force a challenge on me. How was this even a challenge in the first place? "You have to dance with me if I can drink more milkshakes than you"...? How would that be a penalty for the guy? I mean, Violet was certainly pretty, and any rational guy would be more than fine with dancing with her, but Violet wasn't the type to say something like that, unless the punishment of the loser also happened to please HER, so it was rather obvious what her motives were. I wasn't even going to this party, and yet now I was locked in either putting up with it or letting her down. Reason why I see it this way is because I know damn well that there's no way I could beat this girl in a contest of drinking milkshakes. I don't even really care for them that much. Hell, last time I actually enjoyed one was when I was on a date with Amber's original self, and that was over a hundred years ago... Wonder if she remembers that yet... Either way, it was pretty much a done deal. That being said, I'm already thinking of ways to get out of it. I hate parties...

It didn't take long before we all reached the local diner. Everyone piling into the establishment at their own pace. I took my seat beside Charlie's other side, and we were soon greeted by a rather tall young waiter who was roughly around our age. He passed us the menus and almost immediately began flirting with Amber, who became rather submissive in a slightly embarrassed way before watching the man leave. Annoying. Why was this annoying. I had my head lowered over our table slightly as I watched the guy leave with my eyes for a second before shifting in my seat and looking down at my menu. Shrugging off my inner thoughts, I realized that I didn't need this thing. The only kind of milkshake I ever got was vanilla. I was rather simple in that light.

I pushed my menu away from me and leaned back lazily in my seat, seeming rather low on energy. I chose not to answer Lacey's question as the others did the opposite. It wasn't long before both Lacey and Violet went on to teasing Amber about the flirty waiter, much to her embarrassment. I began feeling a very annoying itch in the back of my mind as they babbled on, and had to focus on the ticking inside my head in order for it to go away. Finally when I succeeded in doing so, they too, seemed to stop talking about that waiter. Perfect timing, I think.

Violet then decided to scrub something off of her knuckles. Blood. I eyed her hand for just a moment before looking away again. She never learns, does she... Looking up at Amber, I caught sight of her noticing the very same thing I just did. Only a matter of time before she addresses it. I've known about Violet's little "vigilante" adventures for some time now, but chose not to address it with anyone here. That being said, I would have to eventually. Soon... Very soon... it might just get her killed... The girl in question hid her hand under her sleeve once more after pocketing the now slightly reddened napkin. No one else other than me and Amber seemed to have noticed, which was good. For now...

Violet then quickly downed one shake and instantly ordered another. It was clear she was hellbent on winning that dance... I never even had the chance to either accept or refuse the challenge in the first place. A younger Nate, before regaining these memories, likely would have accepted blindly... That was just the kind of relationship he and Violet had growing up. But that Nate was fake, and now gone. Sad as it was, it was the truth. And while none here seemed to know this truth fully just yet, the truth does often hurt... Violet then seemed to be deep in thought as she was working on her second milkshake. She had a rather worried expression on her face, until she lifted her head up from the shake and finally answered Lacey's question, with one of her own at the last moment.

Just then, I felt the tension around the table suddenly grow very thick. Most of this was coming from Amber and Lacey. I had no idea why this was, but it was clear that it had something to do with what Violet just said. Sensing the coming drama, I sat up as Amber eyed around almost panicking before announcing to the entire diner Violet's bloody hand. Great tact, Amber. Choose to focus on someone's issues in order to save someone else from confronting theirs. It was rather underhanded, but it was clear she felt she had no other choice. Amber would have talked about it with Violet in private later on anyway, but purposely chose to address it now instead. There are much better ways to avoid a topic, if that's what this is... Before Violet could dismiss this, Amber snatched up her hand, not letting her escape. Violet then quickly snatched her hand back and explained what I, and likely most of the others, already knew, and did so in a rather shrinking tone. It was clear she was very uncomfortable, and this was beginning to get me a little annoyed with Amber's deliberate timing. Violet then muttered a rather sad line, which instantly upset me deep down. Whether she did it out of protection for Lacey or not, Violet obviously had no way of knowing that there was a landmine in the room, much less what it took to set it off.

"That's enough." I said, looking at Amber after glancing at Violet for a second to see her turn her head away from me. The look in my eyes should have been clear to her that I knew she saw the blood well before she chose to address it. "We're not here to talk about stressful stuff like that. Like Lace said, we're here to drink milkshakes and have a good time, yeah?" After saying that, I gave Violet's leg a small, gently nudge with my foot from under the table as I finally got to work on my shake, drinking way more than I wanted to; almost half, which immediately started to annoy my stomach. Guzzling down something so rich was usually a bad idea for anyone, and I just did it merely to avoid any further drama.

And that's when something rather regrettable happened as I was drinking my shake; Lacey took it upon herself to donate Amber's number to their flirtatious waiter, which, for reasons unknown to me, made me choke on my drink, causing the contents within the glass to bubble loudly for a moment before I started coughing loudly. Banging a hand on my chest, I cleared my throat. By then, I was receiving a glance from everyone around the table. It seemed rather suggestive as to why I would have choked on my milkshake at that specific moment in time, but I didn't want it to seem like that, because it just wasn't true. Really. So I laughed it off with an small excuse. "Haha, guess I got too carried away with Vi's challenge..." I said, smiling innocently as I cleared my throat a few more times. "And, uh... As for the party, I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it. I might have work tonight, you see..." I answered Lacey. A good lie, as it offered more of a reasonable excuse. That being said, I doubted that it would make Lacey and the others back off... At least not right away. Giving another friendly smile, I turned away from the group slightly and took out my pocket-watch as a force of habit and looked at the time. It served as a calming distraction for me.

"Whoops! My bad!" one of the other boys called as they jogged past, snickering as Briton's knees collided with the asphalt below him. Knees bare in the first place, their flesh exposed by black gym shorts that ended a mere four inches above them, scraped into the rocky path which wound around the school solely for the inhumane purpose of forcing students to run around it until they collapsed. Briton of course, with such a lack of musculature, stamina, and on top of that, being an asthmatic, was, of course, typically the first to collapse anyway. This instance, however, wasn't a collapse of fatigue, but instead was cause by a moronic neanderthal crashing into him for no other reason than 'he thought it would be funny.'

Standing slowly - not for the reason of pain, but simply because he wanted to take his damn time getting the fuck up - he glanced down at the steady blood-flow trickling down his shins. It hurt - god it hurt - and it stung - it stung like a bitch - but his face was blank, and the expression upon it seemed only to say 'Welp, that stinks, I guess.' His stride was casual, as casual as it could be, as he made his way over to the gym teacher, who stood moronically unaware beside the doors to the gymnasium. He took merely a glance at Briton's skinned, raw knees, covered in small amounts of gravel and trickling blood steadily, and his eyes widened and his brows raised.

"Can I go to the nurse?" He asked plainly. His voice almost seemed to be bored, though perhaps it was merely tired. Tired of this bullshit class. Yeah, that was probably it.

"Shouldn't you be, like... crying on the ground right now?" The gym teacher asked, mainly baffled by the weakest boy in class holding a straight face through any injury, let alone having his blood being spilled. "Are you gonna yell out in pain any time soon or are you saving it for later?"

"Saving it for later," Briton answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Disrespecting a teacher that could put someone in physical punishment hardly seemed the wise idea. "Can I go or what?"

"Can you tell me what happened first?" He continued to prompt. God, it was really just beginning to piss Briton off.

"You're the teacher. Shouldn't you know whats going on with your students?"

Briton simply walked past him. Blood was seeping into his shoe already, and the more he waited, the more blood he'd be dripping onto the floors. He didn't want to make a big scene, he just wanted to get this shit over with. Again, it crossed his mind whether or not the school board would notice if Briton hacked into the system and took himself out of gym class. Well, sure, they'd notice, but would they do anything about it is the question? He had a D in the class. A fucking D. Not an F, because how in honest hell can you get an F in gym, but not even a C, which is enough to slide by without questioning from anyone who took the time to look at his grades. Not his parents, of course, seeing as they rarely took interest in either of their two sons, but more so his brother, who seemed to feel the need to assume position as an irritating parental figure ever since a young age.

He stopped in the locker room first, grabbing his change of clothes - the outfit which consisted of skinny jeans and an OBEY brand t-shirt that he'd picked out this morning - and his back pack, seeing as he in no way intended to be returning to that god-forsaken class after visiting the nurse's office. He would have shuddered in the locker room, had shuddering been more his thing, at the memories of what had occurred earlier. Briton always made it a habbit to get to Gym early, so as to be changed by the time everyone else arrived, and risk less time being alone with any of them. Still, this left a little bit of time for them to harass him, and this time was hardly any different from any of the other times. Though, while it wasn't different, it was kind of... worse, today. Though the pain in his knees was enough to overshadow the soreness he still felt in his wrists from where the other boy had grabbed him, it was still there, and the darkened skin around the area - result of that behemoth grip - was proof enough. Grabbing wasn't the problem of course. Briton had been grabbed before, and even grabbed worse, but the problem... Oh god... was when that asshole thought it would be absolutely hilarious to try sticking his tongue down Briton's throat just for a couple of laughs. Briton had almost broken down at that, but still, he managed to hold it in somehow, squirming until the guy had let go and was off to joke about how Briton liked it with his buddies.

Morons. Assholes. Dicks. And yet, how was it fair that they would get to grow up and have normal lives with normal families? That they'd get to go to college and get jobs and leave this stupid little town? And what did Briton get? Sexual harassment and an imminent, early demise. How many times had he died now? He'd been remembering for quite some time, blame that perfect memory of his for even drawing in those memories from other lives, yet he'd never really bothered thinking about the number. There was the first time, of course... The second time, then, he fell... The fourth was was a rabid, stray mutt... And the other times were suicide. Not exactly a fun ride, and hell, not once did he even tell his friends a thing as far as coming out of the closet. No, he'd simply die again, a miserable, hiding little nerd, and possibly be the least important death out of the whole group. How he even maintained his relationship as their friend was difficult to fathom, but he supposed they'd just gotten used to him being around on a subconscious level. There were all pretty good people, after all, even if it was a trait that was very, very deep down in some of them. Sure, Briton trusted them, but not really enough to actually... tell them about anything.

Stuffing his clothes into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Briton quickly made way out of the locker room, down the hall, and immediately into the nurse's office. He paid little mind as she asked him to take a seat and quickly fussed about, cleaning up the blood with some cloths and spraying bitter, stinging anti-bacterial onto the scrapes. He couldn't take people fussing and making a big scene. What was getting injured like this as compared to anything else? It wasn't like his bones were sticking out, so why should he cry? Despite the nurse's prompting to stay and rest, however, as soon as she'd finished laying down the thick pads of gauze on his knees and wrapped them on securely, he was up, slipping into the bathroom to change into his regular clothes before walking briskly from her office without her even noticing enough to look away from the new patient who'd stumbled into the small room.

What do I do now, He mused, checking the time on his cell phone before stuffing it back into his pocket. Class was still far from over, but he sure as hell wasn't going back. The computer lab, perhaps? No, it wasn't really worth it. Who could say whether another class was in there or not, and after today's events, all he really wanted to do was go home. He skirted the halls for no more than a few moments before slipping out one of the side doors that exited into the parking lot, where his junk heap of a 1996 Camry sat idly. Might as well use it and get the hell out of here while no one was loo-

Briton pulled his cell phone from his pocket, opening up the new messages and biting his lip at the image on the screen. Milkshakes? Were they twelve? The more and more he thought about it, the stupider it sounded, too! He wanted to go home, to get away from people, but then again... He found himself hesitating with his hand on the car door for a while, shoving his phone back into his pocket and pondering the idea. Maybe it could get his mind off of things to at least hang out with his friends a little bit. Maybe they had something amusing to say that would make today's events pass into the back of his memory like all the other days. He couldn't forget, but maybe he could think about something else for a little while.

Sliding into the driver's seat of the car and tossing his bag into the passenger seat, he fished his keys out with no particular stress on the amount of time he was using up to do so. He was still on the fence. After all, he was just going to be sitting in the background with his friends, wasn't he? A little extra on the side lines that wasn't quite as important as everything else. Sure, he hardly minded being a background person, but was he really in the mood for it? And was he really in the mood to be all by himself, either... Sighing and leaning back in the seat, he stared at his phone again. There weren't any new messages, and he wasn't so sure he was interested in sending one back, but he wondered who else had decided to go, and who was already there. Maybe it was stupid to go. Maybe going home would be the smarter choice. After all, the last thing one needs for a good time is to bring the buzz-kill who can't keep up. They didn't really need him, did they?

Okay. So maybe he could just do a drive-by. Stop in and check it out, and if it seemed like he wasn't needed, he could just duck out of there, no harm done. Briton started up the car quickly, pulling out of his parking spot if not a little too cautiously. God he hated driving, but he supposed having it was more convenient than not. After all, where would he be if he had to walk everywhere? Well, perhaps he'd have built up a little more muscle or something, but that was certainly besides the point.

The drive down took barely a few minutes, what with how small this damn town was in the first place, and before long Briton was pulling into the parking lot. His friends' car was easy to spot, what with having seen it plenty of times before, and he promptly pulled into the empty parking spot next to them. Maybe it wasn't so much a good idea, after all. The knees of his jeans were starting to dampen and darken from the blood, having taken its time already to seep through the gauze, and it wasn't like he was going to be the life of the party or anything anyway. He turned the key, shutting off the engine while he looked down at the knees of his pants. They weren't too bad - the darkness of the denim hid the fact that it was blood - and it simply looked like he'd knelt down in a puddle or something. Maybe that had been why the nurse wanted him to stick around, but he didn't feel like it mattered. He'd just wanted to get out of there, go home. Why didn't I just go home? He wondered, slipping out of the car while he pocketed his keys. No need to lock it; no one was going to steal that junk heap, and he didn't care so much if they did. Today's been long enough as it is.

He wasn't really too surprised that when he entered the building, one of his friends, Amber, was already standing, saying something about going and asking Lacy if she'd help her pick out an outfit. What did she need an outfit for? But then again, Briton never really was well versed in anyone's reasoning for going out to parties, and that was probably what they were doing. Even if he wasn't, a good deal of his friends mingled with the popular people. Again, he wondered how he even maintained a friendship with any of them, but he supposed it didn't matter. At the very least, he could still call the people he'd spent all his lives with his friends.

"What? I miss the fun of milkshakes already?" He asked, eyes trailing the already standing Amber as he made his way over, grabbing one of the chairs from a neighboring table and dragging it to the end of the booth before plopping down and taking a look at the others around the table. Nathan, Violet, Charlie, and Lacy, though Briton was sure that Lacy would probably be leaving after Amber's prompting. No Cora, no Sam, no Paige, and no Oz. Briton felt his interest drop only slightly after the last one. "Can't say it's that big of a disappointment, but hey, hate to be late." He offered up a light smile, trying to make sure they understood the statement to be entirely lighthearted, as well as having come to the realization he hadn't even given them a smile yet. Yes, at the very least, it was nice to be able to say he had friends.

Oz was having a decent day. Not a bad day, not really, given that there had been no tests or quizzes to bother himself with, but it wasn't a good day either for one distinct reason. Or, rather, one distinct person.

Leaning back in his desk chair, Oscar "Call me Oz" Glass watched his teacher flip through powerpoint slides, her voice enthusiastic if a little quiet. However, despite the low volume of her words, he was sure that no one missed a single syllable of her lecture. Dr. Birchfield had that effect on people, the dictator of the English department commanding attention with each grammatically correct word, her dread reputation as the sternest and most difficult grader in the entire school keeping the students in a perpetual mode of silence. Only the occasional squeak of a mechanical pencil sliding across notebook paper and the soft hum of the air conditioner served as background noise to her lecture. Not that Oz disliked the most infamous teacher in school, mind you. Oh, no, she wasn't the distinct person putting a damper on his otherwise lovely day.

"...Mr. Glass?" He blinked tiredly, staring up at Dr. Birchfield. She stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, sharp eyes staring at him expectantly. The gaze leveled on him would cause most students to quiver in their seat, to stammer out an answer even if they didn't know the question. Luckily for him, Oz wasn't most students.

"Sorry, Dr. Birchfield. What?" He replied in a mild tone of voice, ever-present bemused smile stretched across his face.

"I said, Mr. Glass, will Mr. Miller be joining us today?" Mr. Miller. Nathan Miller. Nate.

Ah. So that was it. Green eyes glanced at the empty desk to his right. That. That was the one thing that was keeping today from being a good day; the complete absence of his best friend. No phone call this morning, no text containing some manner of excuse, no nothing. It had been like this increasingly, the lack of Nate in his life, and no matter how understanding Oz might seem about it, it was beginning to wear on him.

"Sorry, ma'am, but your guess is as good as mine." The teacher nodded and continued on with her lecture, but now Oz was finding it harder to pay attention because now he could actively feel the lack of a presence next to him. Nate was his best friend, had been for quite some time, but... But sometimes it seemed like he was holding back, hiding something when they actually spoke to one another which was, depressingly enough, becoming an increasingly rare occurrence. Not that Oz was going to complain. As long as Nate was fine, he was fine. Or, at least, that's what Oz kept telling himself.

He forced himself to fall back into the tedium of taking notes on MacBeth, messy scrawl jotting down the bullet-points from the powerpoint slides. This, this he could do. As much as most people despised lecturing, Oz thrived in it if only because all he had to do was mindlessly take notes and nothing else. Which, really, sounded more than a bit lazy, but Oz was most certainly okay with that.

It was only after the bell had rung and he was in the halls being buffered on all sides by harried students attempting to make it to their next class that he allowed himself to check his cellphone. The screen glowed as he switched it on, the message icon blinking, begging for his attention.

Milkshakes? Really? A genuine laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head, weaving his way through the crowds with the practiced ease all Seniors eventually gained that set them apart from the underclassmen. He wasn't particularly surprised that a good majority of his friends were cutting class. It's just what they did, sometimes; it's just the way they were, especially since Senior year had started and given everyone a nasty case of Senioritis(with the exception, of course, of Oz if only because he'd contracted Senioritis basically since he'd started Kindergarten and had long since come to terms with it).

So, should he go? He considered the matter calmly, tossing it around in his mind. He could just wait, honestly, given that there was only around forty minutes of school left. On the other hand, it would be nice to see everyone together since they'd all apparently been trying their damnedest to pull apart, and his last class was just a T.A. position in the office. They wouldn't miss him; in fact, they might just let him leave if he asked. Well, it looked like he was going to go get a milkshake.

After popping into the office and waving at the secretary(who, luckily enough, didn't mind at all that he was leaving a bit early) he wandered out into the parking lot, down the familiar path to his parking spot, and was greeted by the sight of an empty space. Oh. Right. Mary had demanded to use his car to go shopping for college things since hers was in the shop, and he'd agreed, much to his parents' relief. No surprise there, really; there wasn't an argumentative bone in his body. Oh, well, it looked like he was walking to the diner. Fun.

Said walk wouldn't ordinarily be that bad. Oz was relatively fit, and Brookfield was a tiny town. He'd been wandering the sidewalks with his friends since they were kids. However, ordinarily he didn't have a heavy backpack bogging him down stuffed to the brim with binders and textbooks. By the time he arrived, beads of sweat were trickling down his neck and his back felt like he was carrying a boulder or something as opposed to school supplies.

The air-conditioned diner was a welcome reprieve as he dropped his backpack the moment the glass door had swung shut behind him, the filled bag smacking loudly against the tile as he dragged it the last leg of his walk over to his friends, an obvious group in the otherwise quiet diner. Well, it seemed like he was late to the party and, going by the food and milkshakes already spread out on the table, no one had bothered to wait. Not that anyone had to worry about him being upset by this; this was Oz Glass, after all, the boy who'd waited in the park half the night until someone remembered that they'd forgotten to tell him that the group meeting was off, and he'd only laughed it off with a goodnatured shrug.

There was Amber and Lacey, giggling and chatting like the teenager girls they were, Violet, Charlie, and even Nate(which was more than a little surprising given that he'd politely declined any invitation to hang out with Oz for the past week or so. He promptly convinced himself that that was absolutely fine) gathered around the booth. Even Briton had arrived before him, seated in a chair pulled up to the booth.

He ran a hand through his wild blonde hair leaving it somehow just as messy as it had been before. He loved his friends, he really did, but at time like these when he arrived late to the party, it was hard not to feel a bit insecure. Sure, they were his best friends in the entire world, and, in the case of Nate, his very best friend, but.... But was the opposite true? Did they feel the same way? He pushed that nagging thought back, tucking it away in the back of his mind where he filed away anything that tried to undermine his serenity. Now was time for fun and relaxation, not stupid worries that didn't even make much sense.

"Heeeeey, guys," He drawled out, only now getting his breath back from the laborious walk from school. Honestly, having this many textbooks and needing them all on the same night should be illegal. He finally grabbed a chair, and, pulling it up to the end of the table next to Briton, collapsed in it in a fit of comically exaggerated exhaustion.

"Well, I guess that I'm a delinquent now too. That means I get a milkshake, right?" It didn't quite matter why they were here or even why everyone had decided that today was skip day. The only thing that mattered was that most of their group of friends were actually in one place, an increasingly rare trend much to his disconcertion , and, of course, that he was getting a milkshake.

Of course, Nate and Lace came to the rescue when Amber asked the damned question. And Lace even completely took away the tension from the whole thing, so Violet didn't even need to worry about the accusing eyes that she thought she would. There'd be explanations for the sickeningly sweet Amber, of course, but, well, that can come later. Vi will just do her best to put it off until then, for as long as possible, until maybe she loses the scent and goes after someone else's issue. Who knows, maybe it'd work, maybe not, but it's worth a shot. She really, really did not want to deal with people criticizing her way of life; the only thing Vi can really say she's good at. She gets enough criticism at home, and friends are meant for winding down and ignoring all the bad stressful shit with, and just in general having fun and pretending everything's perfect. That's how it goes for everyone, right?

She jumped a little when Nate touched (or was it a rub? Does he acknowledge me yet?) her leg, and couldn't help but glance back at him for a split second before turning back to her little comfortable void, absently nodding when Lace gave her the info on the drinks. And hard drinks it shall be, maybe this fiery girl can drink away all the crap and be back to her insane self by morning. After the goddamn hangover, of course, but that's not an issue until it comes. Vi can deal with it then. It wasn't long until Lace and Amber returned to their crazy giggles, but Vi wasn't in the mood for playing around anymore. She felt the familiar itch to go and beat the crap out of anyone she figured was remotely worthy of a beating, no matter how much she needed to stretch the justification. Talking to someone threateningly? Being mean to a girl? Forgetting to pay someone back money you loaned? Heck, even calling Vi an outsider right now would set her off. Too bad she left poor ol' Mustang in Amber's trunk- she'd have to suck up her pride and get it back before the party. The amp too, can't forget that.

Maybe I'm goin' the wrong way about this. Maybe...

Two things sort of happened at once. The waiter, that faintly cute but not Nate waiter, Lace practically yelled Amber's number to him across the diner, making her let out a little shriek. Violet felt tempted to join in, to make some sort of jeer at Amber, but on the other hand, she felt like making Amber feel a little worse before going back to normal. The other thing that happened was Nate's inopportune cough.

""Haha, guess I got too carried away with Vi's challenge..." Nate said easily.

Was Violet really that disgusting a girl that the boy she was friends with her whole life would suffer the rich sinking feeling of drinking too much of a milkshake, just to try and avoid dancing with her? That just wouldn't work at all, Violet really needed this dance with him to try and stave off her vigilante games for a while. Hell, she was looking forward to it like a little kid for her birthday party.

Hang on a sec. I'm not his childhood friend for nothing! He's trying to cover something up. But what could it be?

And Violet's suspicions were even more stoked when she heard that he had a job, or something, to do tonight, so he couldn't make the party regardless. Wouldn't he, as anti-social as he is, at least say so when she made the challenge? Sure, it was kind of spur of the moment, and out of the blue, but still. Nate had more than enough time to say he couldn't make it, before getting her hopes up for at least some semblance of a romance.

Fine then, I'll take you on.

"Yo." Violet said, face propped on her elbow as she looked sideways at Nathan. "Maybe I'll skip the party, huh? Where do you even work, I'll wait for you and we can just, I dunno. Hang out. Or do you not like my company that much?"

Then Briton Hadings walked in, the doll-like boy that both annoyed and endeared Violet at the same time, with somewhat of a limp, and everything else that's annoying and adorable about this pathetic, yet helpless little boy.

"You can have the rest of mine, Briton." Violet said with a little smirk, and pushing over her half-finished coconut shake when he was done dragging a chair over to their table. "Enjoy the indirect kiss, got it?" She waggled an eyebrow at that, playfully, trying to get a rise out of the boy and not sure if she succeeded or not.

Oz entered next, the second person to be late for all this, and also missed out on Amber's little show of tossing her under the bus. Vi absently waved at him and leaned over to whisper in his ear, mischievously grinning.

"Once you're done, Oz, what say we go stalk Nate? Figure out why he's so secretive and shit, whaddya say?"

She then sat back down, still looking at Oz.

"Our little secret, huh?"

Samuel Westhouse

Back out into the sweet fresh air, a sudden rumbling startled the youth. Not his stomach, but his phone, that ancient thing. It's vibrate setting was like an old console controller, with the ability to jerk and commit suicide off the table with merely one text. He had a limited plan, but it was no big deal. He rarely texted anyone anyway. Sometimes he did receive texts though. Like now. It was Lacy. He glanced through the short message. Milkshakes? Why not? Well, he wasn't going to drink one, but he needed a bit of a break from himself. Such breaks were becoming increasingly necessary, especially of late. His mind had once been such a quiet, calm place, but bleak blackness was quickly overtaking everything else within the wrinkles of his mind.

The phone was flipped shut and dropped back into his pocket just as Sam fell into an easy jog. He hadn't brought his bike today, and there was no way in hell he could drive anywhere. he'd never actually learned how to drive a car, which was just as well, because he couldn't afford to pay for gas anyway. Especially after he quit his job at that stupid fast food place down the road. Very quickly the faint exertion of his run took over, leaving him only able to think in simple thoughts.

Maybe I'm depressed? He contemplated. It was a possibility. But he didn't feel particularly down. Everything felt pointless, but he was okay with it, in away. He wasn't doing anything to remedy it. He wasn't complaining. He was fine. So maybe he wasn't depressed. Okay then, so what was wrong with him? The other members of the group probably hadn't noticed the change, he really didn't say much anyway, and when he did he rarely showed how he was really feeling. He couldn't go to them for help. They had their own problems anyway. he could see it in the corners of their eyes and the way they tried to smile and failed. Sometimes it was Lacy, sometimes it was Briton, sometimes it was Nate. Oftentimes he saw stress in Nate. He kept his thoughts to himself though. If someone needed to talk to him about what was bothering them he was more than happy to listen, and they knew that. He wasn't going to stick his nose in anyone else's business, and he expected them to do the same for him.

At the same time, he couldn't help but feel protective of the little group. They meant a lot to him, even if they didn't do much for him. There was a certain air of rightness about being with the group, one that ceaselessly pulled him in and helped him sort through the details. he didn't want anything to happen to any of his friends, and that feeling grew as they days passed, in conjunction with a horrible sensation in the pit of his stomach that told him that something very, very bad was going to happen soon.

As he made it to the little joint where an unknown amount of his friends were, Sam came to a halt. He registered The back of Oz's head disappearing into the place. There were two familiar cars in the small lot, so the group most likely wasn't complete, but close to being so. With his ball still hanging loosely, held only with one hand, he trotted into the place, letting his heart rate settle down. It hadn't been a strenuous jog, just enough to get his well oiled joints moving again. The constant itch to stay in motion lingered in the back of his mind as he paused in the door. Oz and Briton had chairs pulled around the booth where pretty much everyone else was sitting. He let another beat go by before moving over, his body as tiredly liquid as ever. despite his thirst for activity, he had an incredibly lazy appearance, sleepy eyes and tousled hair.

Sam snatched a chair, spinning it around and sliding backwards into it, following the lead of the other two boys. His soccer ball sat trapped between his chest and the back of his chair. "Hey guys." He murmured, folding his arms on the lip of the chair-back and staring interestedly at the group from his vantage point. No witty comment, nothing cute or smart, just him. Plain and simple.

Click! That was the sound of my pocket-watch snapping shut rather loudly, timed in to follow Amber's clear announcement of possibly asking that waiter out to the party that I didn't want to go to. I looked over at Amber out of the corner of my eyes for a sec before sliding back to face the table once more, a troubled expression on my face. This was starting to get annoying, because I didn't know why I was annoyed in the first place. Amber isn't...her... At least not right now... So why would I be jealous? That was when I figured it must be something else. Maybe that waiter simply didn't sit right with me or something... Either way, I chose to shrug it off once again. I had more important things to worry about than some troublesome waiter moving in on Amber. He wasn't even that good-looking if you ask me, so what was the big deal...? Whatever the case, it was a big enough deal to look nice for him... Amber was now talking with Lacey about what she should wear. Little did she know, it didn't matter what she wore; she'd look good either way.

I rested my arms on the table, with my fingers interlocked together, creating a ring made of my arms and chest, with my milkshake at the center as I took a few more sips from the straw of the rich treat. That's when Violet's expression suddenly changed into a very dangerous one. Well, dangerous for HER, anyway. This usually happened when I was in the room, and something devious popped into her head. And it almost always involved... you guessed it: messing with me. Not long after she thought it through, she derailed my plan to escape from the party invitation by offering to skip the party as well so that we could meet up after I'm done with work. Crap. She saw through it. Now it was obvious to me just how obvious I was being earlier at school. I should have never got up off the ground when Lacey called out to me... Oh well, only thing left to do is to try and persuade her otherwise.

"I love spending time with you, Vi, it's just that I've been real busy lately..." I said, giving her a smile before adding "Like I said; I might have to work tonight. I never know with my boss... So who knows? Maybe I'll have the chance to go to the party. I'll text you guys if I can." I said, glancing at a few others. Giving myself this rather weak get-out clause, I hoped that saying this would put in her head that she should leave it alone. I pat the back of her hand and get back to my milkshake, which was beginning to weigh on my stomach. Hoping this would be enough to make her back off... Right. This is Violet I'm talking about... I don't see her giving up on this so easily... As if on que, following in after Briton, who I greeted in response with a simple smile and a "hello", was none other than Oscar "Oz" Glass: Nathan Miller's best friend. I grinned at him and gave a greeting as well, while noticing how exhausted he appeared to be. Did he walk all the way here from school? Before I could ask, however, Violet leaned over to him and whispered something into his ear after giving Briton a playful comment. Just as I was thinking I might be able to persuade Violet to leave me alone for the night, a possible partner in crime decides to show up. No offense, Oz. Violet was unbelievably transparent during times like these... It was obvious that whatever she just whispered to him had something to do with me, and if she were to get Oz involved, it'd be that much harder to avoid this party, because it'll be that much harder to avoid getting caught in my lie... I hurried with a counter-measure by speaking sincerely to Violet.

"Look, Vi... Unless I catch a break later tonight, how about we just make plans to hang out some other time? Just the two of us?" I say, giving her a nice smile. The way I said it really didn't suggest much from the sound of my voice, but if Violet really did have feelings for me, she might have taken that as an invitation to spend some time with me alone on a more personal level; something she wouldn't be able to do at a party full of people. Truth was, we haven't spent any quality time together for a long while now... Same goes for Oscar, who I'm sure is starting to feel it annoy him in the back of his mind. Soon I would have to make up for all this, but for now, I'll start with Violet, who was currently acting as my most formidable enemy with this sudden tactic of trying to catch me with my foot in my mouth. Unfortunately for her, that wouldn't happen.

These people, as much as I love them, are always one of my greatest obstacles in trying to find a proper solution to our situation. Heh, the people I'm trying to save are the ones who get in the way of that more than anything else. Ironic, don't you think? Then again, it's my fault it's such a problem in the first place... Maybe if I had told them the truth a long time ago, they wouldn't be so hindering. Rather, they might be more helpful... But I can't do that. I can't bring them in on this... It's my fault. It's my responsibility to fix it. Even if it means I have to keep alienating my friends...

If my little ploy didn't work, and even worse yet -- if Oz decided to go along and help Violet trap me further, then I would find it relatively difficult to avoid either getting caught in my lie, or going to the party... If this happens, then I would be going to the party for sure, because Oscar can be very convincing, even if you know he's trying to convince you, and Violet was never one to give up if she finds a challenge in something. Or someone... Working together against someone like me, it was pretty much a given that I would be going to that Godforsaken party... Not that I couldn't just refuse flat-out, but then it would look even more suspicious after I tried to persuade her otherwise. It would just be too hard to avoid the party any other way... But I still held hope in that I was able to persuade Violet otherwise with my rather underhanded method of distraction, and that Oz would refuse to play Violet's game...

After my attempts at giving Violet something else to focus on, I couldn't help notice that the knee area of Briton's pants were soaked through with something rather dark. I recognized it instantly to be that of blood. Looking up at him, a little worried, I chose to keep quiet, just as I had with Violet's bloody hand. It wasn't my place to get involved in private matters like these if I wasn't asked... If it had happened right in front of me, however, then I would have no choice but to step in. Either way, Briton's bullying was beginning to aggravate me with each passing incident. This guy could never catch a break. Each life, he seemed to draw the short end of the stick, and it was all because of me that he was still going through it... I'm afraid that one day, I might just snap and make it stop. Once and for all. I know of at least three people who harass Briton for sure, and I'm certain they're the most common bullies in his life. This will become a serious problem after the last birthday, I'm sure... But until then, I'll let him choose how to go about revealing his troubles, should he ever.

Shortly after Briton and Oscar showed up, Samuel Westhouse popped into the diner and sat himself off to the side of the table. He looked the same as always. Calm, simple, rather indifferent towards most things, yet always there to greet his friends. Most would probably say that he was just keeping up with appearances, but if you actually knew him, that just wouldn't make any sense. There wasn't anything to gain from that in the least. Not for someone like Sam, anyway. He was one who, like me, chose not to get involved with someone else's problems unless they wanted him to. Sam was Sam, and that was something I admired about him. Him, along with every one of my friends, always gave me many good reasons to respect them. And they've never let me down once. Wish I could say the same about myself...

The sound of scribbling, turning pages, and a dry erase marker on the board filled the small math classroom. Everyone was doing their part, well everyone except one. Leaning towards the board, eyebrows furrowed and a confused frown on her face Paige sat in the front of the classroom. Her hazel eyes following every movement her math teacher made as she tried to take in what he was explaining.

Equations covered the board, though all of it looked like a foreign language to Paige.

A confused sigh escaped her lips as she became lost in the sea of equations floating adrift in the number's unforging water as she tried to reach the answer but failed. It never failed no matter how hard she tried, she could never grasp the concept of learning, not just in math, but in basically every subject. Academics just rejected her, to put it simply.

"Any questions?" The boring nasally voice of the balding man at the front of the class, brought Paige out of the state of her learning depression and back into his class.

Deciding on not sounding like a complete idiot Paige decided not to raise her hand, and instead avoided the eyes of her teacher. Looking over to the door, she caught a quick glimpse of Sam with his soccerball before he disappeared. The small glass window installed on the door no longer showing his image. Paige wanted to get up and follow after him, but the nagging voice of her mom and dad complaining about her grades kept her rooted to her chair.

Bitting down softly on the eraser of her pencil, Paige glanced back at the board to see Mr.Averil had erased the previous problems and was now starting on a new set.

A sudden jolt of vibration coming from her right leg made her jump causing a few eyes to turn to her. Blushing slightly she quickly pulled out her phone hiding it from Mr.Averil's view.

Milkshakes with Lacey and others, hmm sounds way better than school. Paige thought glancing at the clock and noticing only forty minutes of school remained.

"School's almost out, I wouldn't be missing anything important." Paige mumbled trying to coax herslef into ditching the rest of math.

Staring at the door longingly, Paige only had mere seconds to hide her phone before Mr.Averil passed her, setting something down on her desk. What lay on her desk made Paige re-think ditching.

A huge red D+ lay on the front of her math test, signaling once again the wall that was blocking any information from entering her brain had won again.

I'll catch up with you guys after school. Have fun :D Paige quickly texted back staring bitterly at the test before retunring the phone to her pocket.

"40 minutes that's all I have to endure." Paige grumbled unhappily watching as Mr.Averil returned to the front of the classroom.
-----

With her backpack slung across her shoulders and her helmet on Paige set off for the famous milkshake diner on her bike. Getting there in a matter of minutes Paige quickly jumped of the thing hoping that everyone was still there.

Paige sighed relived seeing everyone there except Cora. Shrugging she bounced over to her friends.

"Sorry I'm late!" She breathed taking a seat next to Sam. "So am I the only one that has yet to order?"

Snatching the ball away from Sam, Paige smirked at him. "You should let me beat you sometime." She teased throwing it up in the air before catching it.

"I'm starving I think I may order something more than just a milkshake." Paige continued tucking Sam's soccer ball under her arm instead of giving it back. Dropping her book bag on the ground Paige caught drift of Nate saying something to Violet about a party.

"Wait there's a party?" Paige asked raising an eyebrow honestly feeling a little left out about not knowing.

Seated as he was, surrounded by friends in the diner he'd been going to since even before he could remember, the familiarity of the situation was comforting, relaxing Oz as he slouched in his seat, any semblance of good posture vanishing as he reclined. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable- it was one of those garden variety ones that were good for a quick meal but not for comfort- and he could feel the sweat already drying on his neck leaving him feeling a little sticky. Still, chairs, sweat, and exhaustion besides, it was days like this that he lived for, a soothing routine to lull him into the falsity that everything was just how it had always been. The chorus of subdued hellos made it seem all the more normal. Well, as normal as there eclectic group got which was, admittedly, not very. All of them seemed infamous in their own way at school and, indeed, in the town for various reasons whether they be positive or negative, a mix of clashing personalities that somehow managed to be in the same room long enough for them to not all kill each other.

He didn't even bat an eye when Violet invaded his personal space, so close that he could practically feel her mischievous smile for that moment, instead leaning his head obediently towards her to catch her whispered words. It didn't take much effort to realize the subject of their little clandestine conversation; Nate. Violet and Nate had always been close and Oz and Violet's collective worry about him served as much as a bonding tool between the two friends as anything else. Admittedly, they worried about him in different ways. Violet was always the dynamic one, eager, or perhaps too eager, to act as soon as a thought flitted across her mind. Oz, on the other hand, was content to worry alone, to wait back and worry, much preferring someone to come to him if something was wrong rather than to poke and prod them actively.

It was still odd, however, that she was asking him of all people. In recent years their relationship seemed to be slowly unravelling for a reason Oz couldn't really fathom. He didn't know when it had started, even if he had a good inkling as to why, but the two no longer hung out by themselves, only when someone else (usually Nate for obvious reasons) was around. It had hurt, of course, but in the end, it was Violet's choice.

Still, despite their slightly strained relationship, the offer was tempting and he felt a lazy smile forming on his own face, eyes flickering to his best friend for a moment. It was as much an answer as any, given the circumstances. As passive as he was, Violet could practically just grab him by the wrist and tag him along with little protest from the teenager. Besides, maybe it was the time to be active for once in his life, and if had gotten to a point where Oz was agreeing to one of Violet's harebrained schemes, then this worry for Nate was getting out of hand.

"Our secret," He agreed, holding up a finger to his lips with a friendly little wink as she pulled away and he slouched again against his seat. Nate was talking to Violet now, offering a one-on-one hanging out session. Which didn't bother him, not really, he decided as he waved a waiter over(not, as it turned out, the cute one who had been getting everyone's attention today), ordering a strawberry milkshake to go(to go, of course, because this little impromptu get-together already seemed to be winding down of its own accord). Oz prided himself on being a low-maintenance friend like he was a low-maintenance son; it makes others life easier on everyone involved which held a satisfaction all its own.

Before he could speak again, others of their little friend group started filing in, Sam first with his eternally lazy expression belying his amazing athletic ability. No sooner had Oz offered him his own lazy greeting then Paige bounced in, finding her way to the table and snatching Sam's ball away in lieu of greeting.

He turned his attention away long enough to receive his milkshake, the styrofoam container doing a perfect job hiding the drink's chill, and had just taken a sip of his long-awaited milkshake when Paige asked about a party. A party? Oz scoured his mind, searching for any mention of a party, but he couldn't think of anything really. Maybe he hadn't been paying attention....?

"What party are we talking about?" He echoed Paige's words, head tilted to one side in a mild sort of curiosity. He wasn't really all that interested; parties were fun and all, but he'd be just as happy sitting around anywhere with friends.

"The whole crew! Now, the party's started!" Lacey exclaimed and greeted all the others, a big and excited grin on her face. She didn't care what anyone had to say, didn't care about how much the more popular students disliked her choice of friends, or even how much her parents judged them. This group - this group right here - they were real friends. Granted, they were all very interesting yet different individuals. In another life - why did that leave her with a sinking feeling - none of them would talk. She and Amber would, definitely. Her and Violet, probably. But all of them as a whole? It wouldn't make any sense.

But now.

Here and now?

This made all the sense in the world.

Lacey released her straw with a "pop", licking her lips of the chocolate peanut-butter concoction. Her eyebrows rose with glee at Paige's inquiry and she picked out one of her fries before talking. "Well, as I was saying, Max is throwing a party tonight. It's gonna be awesome. I'm the DJ -duh, and there's gonna be drinks and dancing and fun. And everyone is requried to come." She directed her gaze at Nathan, Briton, and Violet especially. "Everyone. And don't give me no bullshit about work. Especially you, Nate. I take your excuses on a regular basis and tonight, you're gonna get loose. You're so frickin' serious."

It was no secret that Nathan and Lacey weren't the closest. They were friends, yes, but she always felt like Nathan always saw her as just Amber's friend or that bubbly blonde chick. And while she was bubbly most of the time, it still felt almost like an insult. She tried to include him in a lot of things - she really did. But he was sooo difficult. Still smiling so as not to feel like frowning and showing her inner turmoil, Lacey munched on a few fries, grinning at the taste of brown sugar.

And the whole both Amber and Violet wanted a little Nathan action was beyond irritating. Plus, it put a strain on Lacey's psyche. She was Amber's best friend. But she was also Violet's close friend and bandmate. Lacey didn't do triangles. Either you liked this person or that person. There was no in-between for her, which is why she hadn't honestly thought about her romantic relationships in awhile. This was high school. There weren't a lot of guys she could think of that would be interested in monogamous relationships that possibly would result in marriage or just long-time commitments. She might sound old for that, but it was how Lacey felt.

I'm over this high school shit.

"And you know I've got your back with fashion, tonight, Amber," she told the redhead, flashing her best friend a big and bright smile. "But I was kinda hoping that the girls - if you're all up for it - would just raid my closet. You guys know that I have clothes for days; I can find everyone something. We can make it a girl night and we all pile up in Amber's car." She tossed the boys' an unsympathetic but jovial smirk. "Sorry, no guys allowed."

Pretty much everyone's here now. And with Oz; that guy who Violet really had no idea what to think of him or what to even say about to him; that... that guy in on the plot to pretty much either force Nate to give in and hang out with the at the party, or at least double-team stalk him to figure out why he's always hiding shit from the rest of 'em. Sure, it's true, Vi's real reason for all this was because she really really wanted that dance with him, but still. That doesn't mean she isn't worried at all about his distant behavior the last few years. It was troubling, of course it was, one day he was incredibly close with her; the next he almost completely detached himself. The only thing she can really think of is some sort of trauma, or something. Did he get beat up? Would that even make him turn into this hang out hater?

What if it was somethin' like when that bad guy took me?

She shivered, and refocused on the group. Samuel, was there, just being plain ol' Samuel, doing his little 'Hey Guys'. Totally and utterly neutral, and while they were in the same friend group, Vi had trouble trying to think of what's going through this guy's head. She's not particularly interested either, just thinking of him as the random guy that's buddies with pretty much everyone. And there's nothing wrong with that, right? She can't remember ever having a real talk with the guy, but, well, Vi has trouble remembering what she ate just this morning, so she doesn't really trust what's in that head of hers.

Nate's offer to have some private time together later was, to be honest, incredibly hard for her to resist. But, damnit, she didn't want time later, she wanted it now! Or otherwise, she wanted to get rid of whatever's bugging the hell out of her oldest friend, violently or however the heck you get rid of problems! He'd probably find a way to back out of it too. Despite all that, though, her heart fluttered naively when she heard him tell her that he loved to spend time with her. And well, he did love to hang out with her before. It'd be pretty damn awesome if those feelings were still the same, at least. But he doesn't even know her feelings forwards him, those tender and insecure feelings of what she thinks is love.

She felt the blush of doom and death approaching, and there's no way she'll show off that weakness. Especially not in front of Nate!

"Ehm, Nate, I- uh." She looked as if she was rattling her brain, trying to make it work again. "It's.. well, it's probably better f-for you to... erm, y'know... loosen up sooner than later... and... yeah. That."

Violet gave a self deprecating giggle, doing her damned hardest to keep the blood from flooding her cheeks, panic rising.

Not for the first time in her life, she wished she could confide in someone about what the rope guy did to her. And, not for the first time, she drove the thoughts away, almost violently. She turned her head towards her cheerful singer buddy, Lacey, who was explaining all about the party to the newcomers who didn't know, emphasizing on the rule that everyone was required to come, even chastising Nathan about his avoiding habits, something she hoped to hell that he got through his thick head. She then looked to Amber, and halfheartedly shook away the old feelings of bitterness towards her, regarding the beautiful redhead with a 'it's cool between us, okay?' grin. It's better if the fighting stays with the bad guys who deserve it, instead of between friends, anyways, right?

As usual, the vigilante thoughts grounded her back in tough chick mode.

"Lace! Hey, you remember that black top you lent me for the ACDC concert a few months back?" She asked Lacey animatedly, aggressively. "I call dibs on it. Amber, Paige, if you touch it, I'll smack you both!" She playfully pinched Amber's nose.

She giggled, and then, in her version of stealth, mouthed at Oz to keep the pressure on Nate while she was with the girls, and that she'd try to hurry to back him up once they were done outfitting.

Vi then bumped shoulders with Nathan smugly, with an 'I win, you lose" face, and laughed, with a slight hint of sadistic pleasure at seeing him squirm.

"If you say that to every living thing with boobs, playboy, doesn't that just make us all average? Be honest for once, and focus on Amber. She's the hot one, after all!" Violet said, a mixture of friendliness and bluntness coating her words.

"Oh come on Violet, I'm not a playboy I just know how to compliment woman." Charlie grinned at her response turning to look at her before continuing. "What would you say if I told you I'm not interested in her?" He winked at the her, but she seemed to have totally forgotten about him as she solely focused her attention on Nate.

Charlie rolled his eyes at the her, irritated at the lack of attention he was getting.

He couldn't help it, it was just apart of his personality. He wanted- no needed to have attention. If he didn't get it he felt empty, like apart of him was just not there.

I guess kind of like a puppy, always needing to be rubbed and played with or like a small child, ready to cry at any moment when not feeling the soft touch of someone else skin.

Sighing Charlie let his eyes roam around the small diner, everyone at the table all in-engrossed in their own conversation, paying little to no mind to Charlie.

The place wasn't all that big, it seemed kind of homely. From the dusty old corner filled with spider webs, to the old waiters, and waitresses he remebered from when he was a child. Of course there were new ones, like the one who was serving their table.

The young male was actually pretty handsome Charlie noticed, mentally kicking himself for thinking such a thing. Not now or ever would he ever admit the attraction he had for men. Yet another reason why he alwyas felt the need for a girl to be under his arm. During this time noone could accuse him nor would he have to admit the way he wanted to kiss a dude.

The young waiter smiled, making Charlie's heart flutter as he thought about that look the guy had on, being ment for him. That was until one of the girls started talking making him realize the dude was of course after one of the woman at the table.

His eyes landed on Amber as she blushed about something. Charlie watched her intently, she actually was quite pretty, he could understand why the waiter was interested in her. To bad for him, since she seemed interested in Nate, Charlie noted as he watched her repeatedly glance at Nate. The waiter walked away having no idea he would probably never get a shot at Amber's heart.

Charlie's eyes slowly drifted back over to Nate.

Charlie actually liked the guy. But, at the moment he wanted to ring his neck.

It seemed like two girls were basically tripping over each other to get to him and he didnt seem like he cared. Early on Charlie had noticed the way Amber looked at Nate like she just wished he would notice her, Charlie was starting become aware that maybe she wanted more than just a friendship from Nate. And it was obvious that Violet was also into Nate. She had practically told him, Nate was a complete idiot if he hadnt picked up on the hints. Yet still Nate hadn't made a move.

He had two beautiful girls after him and he couldnt even spare them the time. What was that important that he had to keep on ignoring the two?

Charlie sighed inwardly Nate was carelessly throwing away what Charlie wanted so badly.

"Sorry guys, no boys allowed."

Charlie looked up at Lacey, finally being awoken from his thoughts. Glancing around the table he noticed everyone had appeared, well except for Cora.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, Charlie straightened. His eyes fixating on one of his friends as he noticed something odd.

"Hey Briton are you okay?" Charlie asked a bit of concern seeping into his voice as he stared at Briton's knee. The damp spot on his jeans seemed to have grown a little larger from the last time he had looked over at him.

Before he could protest Charlie quickly shoved up his pant leg in one swift motion, his protectiveness starting to show its side as he looked up into the bright green eyes of his friend.

"This looks pretty bad, what happened?"

Blood was starting to even seep through the gauze. "Did you get this looked at?"

Samuel Westhouse

Sam let his eyes wander silently around the table, resting his chin on the backs of his wrists. He had no urge to participate in whatever conversation was going on, he just let their talk wash over him. As usual, tension filled the gaps between words. Most of it was centered around Nate. Because everyone loved Nate. Most of the girls did, anyway. And it seemed to be a constant scramble for his attention. Well, Sam could see why, the guy was pretty much the focal point of the group, but he couldn't help but think how stressful it had to be to juggle all that. He was lucky, he didn't have many expectations put on him, which made it that much more difficult to let people down. His eyes wandered to Charlie, the boy who liked to be the center of attention. Sam was rather fond of him. He had character, and there was more going on upstairs than he let on. Right now he seemed to be somewhat distressed. Sam made to offer him a small silent smile when a whirlwind of a distraction tugged his attentions away.

Paige. Out of all the friends he had, Paige was his favorite, to be quite honest. She was slightly breathless, and she parked herself right next to him. Maybe it was because they had something in common. She was his link to the rest of them, even if Nate was the focal point of the group. She got a grin as she stole his soccer ball out from under him with her usual buoyancy. "Hey, if you beat me I'll let you win." He responded in turn, letting her keep possession of his ball. For now.

She was quickly distracted by the rest of the group. A party. Meh. he was apathetic towards parties. They weren't really his kind of thing. Paige didn't sound quite pleased to be left out of the loop though. In a matter of moments Lacy filled everyone in about Matt's party. Mmm, everyone didn't include him. He liked a little bit of company, but a party didn't sound very appealing, actually.

The giggling over Nate started up again almost immediately, from Violet's corner. Sam settled back down into his chair, rolling his head towards Page to see her reaction towards the prospect of a party. Things began to fall back into the usual when Charlie spoke again, his voice more worried than usual. Was Briton okay? He turned his head immediately to see what was up. Briton got pushed around a lot, it was no secret, but something had happened that was bad enough to elicit such a response from someone. That was not good. He'd always been a bit protective of his friends, but it had become a stronger, more uncomfortable feeling of late. A constant worry. Which was what made him straighten immediately when he saw blood.

There was gauze, and there was blood soaking it. He'd torn his knees up. It was relatively fresh. He must have gone to the nurse to get it fixed up. But it wasn't enough, obviously. Sam chewed on his bottom lip. Briton was a strong kid. He liked to take care of himself. Sam got that. But that much bleeding... And Charlie had already brought it up, he should offer aid. He unfolded his arms and pulled his bookbag off. Contrary to illusion, it didn't have any books in it at all. No, it had more useful stuff like tape in case he twisted his ankle or his knee in the woods, lightweight painkillers, butterfly closures, a flashlight, all kinds of stuff that he'd managed to scrounge up over the years. He took care of the damage he did to himself by himself. Hospital visits were costly, and learning to dress a wound was invaluable.

He rifled through the bottom of the bag, where most everything was jumbled up, and produced a handful of items wordlessly. Half a role of gauze, the rest of which had been used a few months back when he'd gotten a little bit too into his game of wall ball and slid a couple feet across the pavement on his shoulder, the last of his joint tape, which did a decent job of keeping things in place, and a bottle with five aspirin left in it. He left his loot on the table and sent a sideways glance at the small blonde boy.

"If there's still any rocks in them, use rubbing alcohol before things start to close. Hurts like hell but it works. Mine was confiscated though, sorry. " He said, zipping his bookbag back up and returning it to his back before laying his chin back on his hands and letting his eyes fall back to their sleepy medium. He didn't take his eyes off Briton though.

It wasn't more than a moment, in fact, before Oz arrived. Call it a relief, perhaps, or perhaps not, but it did draw slightly more of his interest back to his group of friends. He was sure that made him kind of pathetic, but decided not to dwell on it too much. Thinking about his feelings was far too complicated, and who could say which one could have started pouring out from him at the wrong moment? Probably tears, what with all that had come as a result of the day. Miserable, he was sure that was the correct term for what he was feeling, though of course, feelings for now were instantly sorted into some other part of his mind - another part of him all together - while nothing connected itself to the outside. It was better not to make some big scene out of it, after all.

Briton's eyes trailed the other boy closely as he as well grabbed a chair from a neighboring table, following suit with Briton's actions, and plopping down at the end of the table next to him.

"Heeeeey, guys," Oz greeted, letting out an exasperated huff of air. He was sweaty and he'd let his body go comically limp in that chair of his. Probably, he'd walked all the way to the diner, and Briton couldn't blame him for feeling exhausted. A tinge of guilt struck him however, because if Oz was walking, it meant that Briton could have offered him a ride, and hadn't even thought about it. Perhaps he could offer his friend a ride home? Yes, it was certainly pathetic to take any excuse to spend a little extra time with him, but... What else could he do? At the very least, there was that. Maybe it just caused pain in the end, but it was still something. "Well, I guess that I'm a delinquent now too. That means I get a milkshake, right?"

Briton let his eyes dart away, giving off a small hint of a smile, one that could barely be even considered a smile, while he tried to think about something else, or someone else to look at. It wasn't like Oz was talking to him, or even at anyone in general, and trying to look at someone else in the group while Oz was there was enough of a challenge it itself that Briton had begun taking care to try doing it more often.

That was when he noticed Violet, giving off her usual, energetic vibe. The girl had loads of personality, whereas Briton had perhaps a sliver of one. He couldn't say that he wasn't a little jealous of how bold she could be. Sliding over her unfinished milkshake with a smirk, she claimed "You can have the rest of mine, Briton." And just as a coy little after-thought, just being her usual, playful self, she added "Enjoy the indirect kiss, got it?" Cute.

He smirked right back at her, though his was considerably smaller. She'd probably be disappointed at the lack of a reaction, but the idea of kissing girls didn't really appeal to him. It wasn't anything to make him blush or fluster or act all shy over.

"My favorite kind of kiss," He retorted, picking up the milkshake from the table and pursing his plump lips around the straw. He sipped the coconut-flavored drink while he watched Violet's attention drift to something else, which happened to be whispering something into Oz's ear, and made Briton just the least bit more curious as to what exactly that information was, seeing who it was being told to. He supposed he couldn't help it, though.

He placed the milkshake down on the table just as another member of the group had trailed in; Sam. Carrying that soccer ball and looking as bored as ever. Briton was almost sure that this guy had walked to the diner, though, as sporty as he was, wasn't showing any signs of fatigue at all. Again, it was another trait that Briton could find himself feeling some kind of envy for. But not much, even if Briton couldn't have played a sport if he tried, it was entirely true that he definitely did not want to, either. Trailing his eyes back around the table, it seemed too that some kind of conversation that Briton didn't have the context for was continuing between Nate and Violet, probably because Nate was blowing the girl off for an earlier event. But hey, what had the girl been expecting?

It was Page, next, who burst into the scene, immediately her thoughts trailing to a party, that she must have caught wind of from one of the side conversations at the table. Someone had sad something about that hadn't they? Briton had recalled assuming that there was one from the latter discussion about "getting ready" that he'd heard coming from Amber when he'd come in. God, just as long as he didn't have to go, he was fine. Parties were terrible. They were full of people who didn't like him, huge crowds, blasting noise. He really just wasn't into the whole party scene, and he couldn't understand why anyone would be. Maybe that was what Violet was upset about? Nate not going to this party or whatever. Briton couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to go.

Even Oz contributed suddenly to the sudden party concept, chiming in right after the girl. No, no way. Not even to hang out with this guy was Briton going to some stupid party. Not after today, and knowing that his tormentors probably would be the first invited to that sort of shit fest.

"Well, as I was saying, Max is throwing a party tonight. It's gonna be awesome. I'm the DJ -duh, and there's gonna be drinks and dancing and fun. And everyone is required to come." Lacey answered them, her eyes trailing to Nathan, Violet, and Briton with her words. He supposed she knew very well the most likely not to come. "Everyone. And don't give me no bullshit about work. Especially you, Nate. I take your excuses on a regular basis and tonight, you're gonna get loose. You're so frickin' serious."

"I'm exempt from this right?" Briton interjected, raising up his brows. "I mean, parties aren't my scene. I'd rather slam my face into a wall for eight hours straight."

He wasn't sure whether or not his comment had gotten picked up in the midst of everything, of Violet or Amber's fuss over the same dude, or over all the excitement about some lame ass party, or even over most of his friends managing to be in the same place at once. But it didn't really matter. They couldn't really force him to go, and they wouldn't even notice if he didn't! He vaguely noticed the girl's conversation suddenly change to a little girl's party of getting ready together and borrowing clothes and stuff. Piling into Lacey's car. But... Hadn't Briton only seen one other car? That left the guys - aside from any who really wanted to walk home - without a ride. He almost let out a sigh, though he tried to remind himself that not all bad would come from driving his friends home. After all, Oz definitely didn't look like he was going to want to walk home after this.

"Hey Briton are you okay?" Briton looked up from where his gaze had dropped down to staring at the table, the statement drawing him back into the group once more. The statement was coming from Charlie, who, despite it all, was relatively caring. He was a good guy, a handsome guy, but mainly it was the number of different girls he had under his arm per week that was a bit of a turn off. It even turned some of the girls off, but obviously not too many of them, since plenty still lined up eagerly.

Briton fidgeted, opening his mouth to say something, but before he could, Charlie was already leaning forward, going for the hem of the other boy's pants and pulling the upward over the knees. The action caused Briton's body to tense, visibly, despite the look of relaxed distant look on his face, as if his body was preparing itself to get struck like all the other times today. Surely, he couldn't avoid the action being noticed, but he quickly made an effort to release the tenseness. Charlie wasn't going to hurt him, after all.

"This looks pretty bad, what happened?" Charlie continued to ask, and though the words, even the tone, were completely concerned, kindhearted, Briton felt as if he were being interrogated. "Did you get this looked at?"

"I fell is all," Briton responded, his words almost coming out firm, though they lacked something that would have made the harsh. Perhaps it was the weakness in his voice. He turned his face away from Charlie. Away from all his friends, just staring at the ground where none of them stood. His hands settled down on the hand that Charlie still had holding his pant leg, applying pressure but not yet pushing it away. He really hoped his friends would accept falling as an answer, but he was pretty positive that his friends knew "I fell" really did more so mean "I was pushed" when it came to Briton. "I went to the nurse so it's fine. I was probably supposed to stay until my knees stopped bleeding, but I didn't want to. Its no big deal, okay?"

But it was too late. Despite his refusal to look back at anyone, Briton could hear Sam rustling about, beginning to pitch it as he was rummaging through his bag for some things. Briton could hear them being plopped on the table while they were being taken out. Briton crossed his arms defiantly, though the way his brows furrowed and his eyes avoided them told a far different emotion.

"If there's still any rocks in them, use rubbing alcohol before things start to close. Hurts like hell but it works. Mine was confiscated though, sorry. " Sam offered. So, it was as expected; stuff for the wound. It made a little anger seep in, which tinged a little more guilt. He was making a scene, now. They were making a scene, and he was only making it worse. Why couldn't they just leave it alone? He was fine! He was always fine... He could handle pain. He found himself gritting his teeth a bit.

"I'm fine," He muttered, though the words were almost too faint. He didn't want to be fussed over. It was embarrassing, it was unnecessary. It hurt too much. No, it most certainly wasn't going to be pain like this that would make him cry. It was dealing with it afterwards.