Briton Hadings'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!!"

"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.

Finally Paige decided to join us, leaving us with only one friend less; Cora. I didn't know where the girl might be, but it was probably somewhere peaceful, where she could draw without interruption. That was often the case with her, and I totally understood. While I didn't ever draw in order to calm my nerves or lower any stress, I have noticed that it tends to take your mind off of things in a very interesting way. The focus it requires, when uninterrupted, can be used as a form of therapy in a way. Whatever the case, it didn't seem like she would be joining us.

After my invitation to Violet for some quality time with me in the near future, the girl in question began stammering her refusal, seeming tense. This made my heart ache with something my mind didn't understand. At first I thought that it was plain old guilt ebbing away at the hold I had over my conscience, but I knew that feeling all too well by this point, and it wasn't that. Perhaps there was something buried in the recesses of my current identity that was influencing my overall feelings towards Violet. I, myself, only ever saw her as a close friend, but that isn't to say that who I am in this life doesn't have stronger feelings for the girl he grew up with. Honestly, it would make sense... This made everything about my current situation all the more annoying. I had no idea how I was supposed to avoid it all without causing some kind of pain to either her or Nathan... And it should go without saying that anything that affects the person I used to be before I regained my memories will also directly affect me in the long-run... I really don't need, nor have the time, for such distractions at the moment... This had to end soon, or else it could prove to cause me even more trouble in the near future.

Putting Nathan's feelings aside for the moment, I listened to what Violet had to say, as well as Lacey, who I gave a troubled crease of my eyebrows as I frowned in an odd way while she spoke. She used rather blunt words, but each one spoken were clearly coming from how she truly felt about my antisocial behavior. No matter how shallow a friendship one might think the two of us share, Lacey's soul has been with me, like all the others present, for over a hundred years, and it was obvious that she still cared enough to get my ass moving, even if it was to some stupid party. But it wasn't just her, either... Maybe not everyone here, simply because not everyone here, like myself, wanted to go to this party either, but I got the feeling that Lacey, Violet and Oz weren't the only ones getting fed up with my shut-in lifestyle...

So no one seemed as though they were okay with me sitting the party out. Not Lacey, who I thought had given up on trying to get me to join her and the others on different occasions, and especially not Violet. It was obvious to me that it was rather obvious to them that I was purposely avoiding them, but I knew for a fact that they didn't know why. And how could they? After all, I've never told them a damn thing... Oz was now in on whatever it was that Violet was currently planning, so the odds of me getting out of this situation appeared very low. Oz had nothing to lose from agreeing to help Violet and had everything to gain, what with him being presented an excellent excuse to spend time with me. At this point, I was certain that there was an 90% probability that I would be going to that party...

Sighing, I defiantly leaned back in my seat, my body tilting to the side slightly as I looked around the table while fiddling with my thumbs. A few eyes were on me, while others were looking elsewhere. After giving it some thought, I realized that refusing them this time around would prove to be more troublesome for me in the very near future. I simply had more to gain from keeping my friends relatively pleased with me, than I would if I refused them now. I was going to need them happy and accepting of me for when things start to get difficult, and I wasn't going to have that luxury if I ditched them yet again -- especially after all this protesting from multiple people. And I'm not talking about just the ones who actually voiced their wishes, either... Flipping my hands a bit in a show of sour defeat, I rolled my eyes. "Fine... I'll call in and let my boss know that I'm taking one of my vacation days early..." I said, looking over at Violet before giving her the words she was so desperately waiting for me to say. "You win..." I let out a submissive scoff and smile slightly.

With that out of the way, things around the table seemed to get slightly more cheerful, which made me feel awkward. Like I didn't belong. Now that things had taken a new direction, it didn't take long before someone else spotted and even went so far as to direct attention to Briton's current bloody state. As chance would have it, that person happened to be Charlie. I looked over at him before moving my eyes to the person he was addressing, along with every other pair of eyes around the table. Before the poor boy could refuse the attention, on of his pant legs was shoved up above his now prominently bleeding knee, which caused him to grasp the hand of his current 'attacker', so to speak; obviously embarrassed as he looked away from each of his friends. I scowled upon seeing just how bad his knees were. This was beginning to get out of hand... Even if the others couldn't, I could see the inner workings of fate locking into place as time flowed on. The game's board was currently being set up, and its pieces and obstacles aligned as the players went on, not knowing any better. This had to be stopped before it began, and I was the only one who could see how serious it truly was, along with the seemingly regular issues that everyone else had going for them...

Closing my eyes for a few seconds as Sam began talking to Briton about treating his injuries whilst setting various medical supplies upon the table, I slowly walked myself through what was going to happen next. A few short minutes passed by, and I felt that I covered every scenario that could possibly take form over the can of worms I was about to open with Briton, who I knew wanted to simply fade away whenever he was at the center of attention, I open my eyes. And for the first time in what felt like a very long time, I openly pried into something one of my friends was going through...

"Who was it?" I ask Briton, my eyes trained on him. My question clear enough to break any silence or interrupt any on-going conversation around me, I felt the eyes of more than a few people look my way. Ignoring them, I rephrase my question. "Who did that to your knees, Briton?" Everyone around me knew just as well as I did that Briton did not just "fall". I was fed up with how he was being treated, and whether he liked it or not, I needed to address this before it got out of hand. Like it almost always does... It hurt knowing that I was likely making my friend feel incredibly uncomfortable, but I pushed through it. Whether he told me who it was or not, I would find out. However, it was always easier to get information straight from the source of an investigation. And in this case, that source happened to be Briton Hadings.

"What party are we talking about?" Oz asked, mirroring Paige's curiosity and also seeming to be unaware of the party.

Paige glanced over at him brightened by his words, happy that she wasn't the only one who hadn't been told about the event. His head was tilted slightly to the side and he was slumped in his chair.


"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. 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." Lacey explained making Paige smile at the idea of everyone hanging out together. It had been a while since they had all hung out together. Everyone together, not little side groups like Lacey and Amber hanging out together, no everyone together as a unit. Even now they were missing Cora, keeping them from calling this outing a group outing where everyone showed up. It just seemed like latley the group was slowly starting to drift apart to Paige.

Taking in their small group Paige bit her lip. How much longer are we even going to be here, she wondered as her eyes trailed over everyone in the group.

Deja-vu was starting become a very frequent word in Paige's vocabulary. It started when she was a child. Minor things like walking in the park, or hanging out with some of her friends sparking small memories of her doing things in the past. She had only brushed it off not thinking much of it until her seventeenth birthday. The horrid memory of her first death hit her like a speeding train. She could still feel the feeling of bullets piercing her skin as she slowly faded from the world. Why had she come back? Why had any of them come back, she would never understand. All she knew was that she wanted to be rid of the curse that loomed over her and her friends. She just wanted to die, yes it sounded weird, but the constant on going of life was tiring she wanted the eternal sleep that every human being was promised when they were brought into this world.

"I fell is all." The icy words of Briton made Paige look over to him as she watch Charlie fuss over him.

Paige scoffed lightly. "Sure you fell." Paige said eyeing him through squinted eyes, it was obvious to her that he was lying.

"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. " Paige watched as Sam put half a roll of gauze and a bottle of aspirins on the table.

A small smile crept across her face as she watched Sam. He seemed concerned about Briton as he kept his eyes on the boy.

"Wasn't that sweet of you?" Paige said softly, lightly pinching Sam's cheek.

Paige had always known he was a sweet boy, though it didn't much show it's side with his distant attitude.

Throwing an arm around Sam's neck she pulled him slightly closer to her, her voice became quieter, speaking as if, what she was saying was a secret between the two.

"You do know your going to the party." She said simply, looking directly at him.

If it wasn't for her constant focus on school and sports Paige could even say she had a crush on Sam, but then again having these feelings might drive Sam into his shell, so she all together left the idea out of her head.

Returning her arm to her own space she sneakily stole one of Lacey's fries.

"I'm up for the party and the raid." Paige nodded approvingly, trying to keep herself from glancing at her backpack where an English essay sat waiting to be written.

Samuel Westhouse

Briton's face had tensed up. Stubborn boy. Sam could understand that he didn't like people fussing over him, hey, he didn't like it either, but flesh wounds were serious, and did need attention. Especially since he was bleeding enough to stain the knees of his jeans. Blood out of denim would be difficult to clean out too. He made no response when the boy gritted out some words trying brush away the attention. Sam could see his jaw working closed. Well even if he wanted to bravely refuse help, Sam wasn't taking his stuff back until the blond had cleaned himself up. Open, bleeding wounds could get infected easily if they weren't cleaned regularly. and if his knees, Sam could now see that both of his knees were bleeding, got infected, that could lead to some serious troubles down the road.

The rest of the group had jumped in by now, and it was Nate who asked what everyone was probably thinking. Who was it. Sam wanted to know too. He tried not to be a violent individual, preferring to keep himself reserved and quiet, but if someone thought they could push on of his friends around he would be more than happy to beat the snot out of them. Let them pick on someone their own size for a change. He could handle them, and he didn't mind if they wanted to beat on him because he could give what he got in equal measure, and words had stopped bothering him long ago. His recklessness was so quiet it was difficult to see, but it was still there, mingled with his need for adrenaline and competition. He was a sleepy boy, and his countenance hid things, but that was just the way he was.

Before anything else could happen, either another refusal from Briton or an admittance, Sam was assailed from his other side. Paige got her fingers on his cheek, pinching his face playfully. Wasn't that sweet of him. His face went a bit red, partially because of her playful nearness and partially at her words. He wouldn't refuse being called sweet, on some level it was true, but at the same time he wouldn't admit such a thing. Yeah he cared about his friends, maybe he was a bit too invested for his tastes, and some might call it sweet, but he called it duty. Friendship. It was his job in this relationship with this ragtag group of friends. He didn't contribute in words, so he had to do what he could to stay useful.

Paige slung her arm all the way around his neck, pulling him nearer, her voice dropping in volume. She informed him in short terms that he was going to the party, her eyes fixed on him. He screwed up his mouth. He really didn't want to go the party. No thank you. No. Thank. You. But Paige would give him grief if he didn't, and maybe he wanted to make her happy, or maybe it felt good that she wanted him to go. He would go. He probably wouldn't have a good time, but he'd go. As part of his obligations as a part of the group. That didn't stop him from sighing and rolling his eyes at her as she swiped a fry and added a contributed to the part preparation conversation.

With a slight movement and a flick of his wrist and swiped his soccer ball from her and responded in equal tone and volume. "Fine, I'll go. But you'll owe me, Parker!" He teased, then dropped the ball under his chair, stopping it with one foot. His attentions were still halfway on the tensions emanating from Briton, because he really did want to know who thought it was okay to go pushing people around and tearing them up. Because that was not okay with him.

---

Amber's mind buzzed excitedly about the party. Raiding Lacey's closet was always fun, considering it was basically a wonderland of colors and choices. Dresses, skirts, shorts, tank tops, jeans, sweaters, tshirts, pants, jackets, blouses, it was basically a store itself. Not even to get started on the amount of shoes and accessories she had. Amber felt lucky enough to be around the same shoe size as Lacey, even the same height. It was kind of a balance they had though, Lacey was always good with the fashion and Amber was always more of a hair person. She loved doing other's hair. She wondered what she'd do with it tonight, probably just leave it down as usual. Violet mentioned something about a shirt she called dibs on, and playfully pinched Amber's nose. She smiled, glad that Violet didn't seem to let anything come between their friendship. It was a bit awkward at times, but Amber liked Violet nonetheless.
The diner was busy, and smells of various foods filled around her. The town they lived in was pretty small, and she could easily pick out familiar faces she saw among the area. Most of the light from the place came from the windows, and lamps that hung above the booths. They sat at the largest tables the place had, one that had a bench area that wrapped around three quarters of it, the other side left for chairs.
Amber sipped her milkshake slowly, the cold vanilla melting on her tongue. She was careful not to drink it too fast, because she dreaded the numb aching pain in the head that resulted in doing so. She did everything a bit cautiously, if anyone noticed or not. It added to her delicate presence, and her lovely ladylike facade. She was pretty clean, and liked to always look presentable. Not to be labeled a perfectionist, as she deals well with conflict. It's accepted and either fixed or looked over instead of worrying and stressing over small flaws. Often the girl overlooked small details that seemed unimportant.
By now, so it seemed, everyone was going to the party. There was a mix of happiness and regret. If Nathan was going, maybe she shouldn't invite the random guy. But then again, Nate wasn't even that thrilled about going, and as it seemed Amber wouldn't see him without Violet the whole night. She was torn between doubt and hope, that he'd even talk to her there. She looked at him, he seemed uncomfortable by all of it. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits that he'd accepted to go to the party, though Amber still had a dazed look about her. She'd become a bit quiet and she couldn't quite tell why. She then glanced beside him at Violet. She didn't know what made it so easy for Violet and Nate to talk, but Violet seemed happy around him. She herself had a sinking feeling, who was she to try to take someone's happiness? Hers wasn't more important than anyone else's. She looked back to Nate, trying to read him as well, but something about him always seemed distant and unpredictable. It constantly made her curious and want to know more, but he seemed to keep her at arms length.
The attention had been turned to Britton now, who had all eyes pressing onto him. Everyone was concerned with his bloody knee, asking him questions as to what happened. Amber bit her tongue, not even bothering to speak this time. She was still a bit sore from the response she'd gotten ten minutes ago about being concerned with Violet to have the same thing happen in front of her without trouble. She quietly excused herself to the bathroom, and gave Lacey a look that she didn't need to go with her.
Girls had that habit of traveling to the bathroom together, but Amber just wanted to touch up her hair and makeup, not exactly in the mood to talk. Ever since she'd been getting these flashbacks she had a weird feeling. There was something missing, numb about her that felt wrong. Like she was an unfinished painting. She longed to be completed, but had no idea where to pick up. It sometimes got her down, but being around her friends always brightened her mood. Not today as much, though. Everyone seemed to be having some sort of issue much deeper than they showed, and it was hard for her not to interrogate and mother everyone she could get her hands on.
She got up and walked gracefully to the girl's room. She slipped inside and stared at the girl in the mirror. She pressed her hands to the cool sink for support, leaning slightly forward. Her eyes showed a gorgeous blue-green. Almost like the ocean, the swirls in the iris tossed like waves, the contrast glowing under her long eyelashes. But, water slowly filled them, and her face twisted away from her smile.
Her eyes had never shown blue before. Always a pure grey-green.
Who was she? The name Amber didn't even seem to fit right anymore. But like any other strong girl would, she blinked away the water, and took a few deep breaths. When she looked again, the blue was barely even there. Maybe it was all her imagination anyway. She tossed her hair in place, and ran her fingers through as a brush a few times. She touched up her eyeliner, making sure it wasn't mangled.
She exited the empty room, and began heading back to the table when the blond boy stopped in front of her. He was easily 7 or 8 inches taller than her, and in flats he somewhat towered over her. She looked up at him with a small smile, as he looked down with a similar grin. They stood for a moment, both still before the boy spoke. He had a friendly but flirty smile, with lovely straight white teeth. Basically many high school girl's dream boy. "Hey," he started, his voice was smooth and casual. "I'm Colin." She almost didn't answer, lost in whatever she was held by. "Amber." She got out, but felt instantly stupid as she'd only said her name. Another table waved him over, drawing his stare from her to the distance, he gave her an apologetic look and began to move around her. She stepped aside but quickly turned around and spoke, "hey, there's this party tonight... You should come." she offered. He nodded, as he took out his pen from behind his ear and scribbled down his number on a piece of paper. He hand it to her, with another charming smile that was basically his signature at this point.
She made her way back to her friends, slipping back into her seat beside Lacey. She smiled mysteriously as she handed her best friend the paper to see. She raised an eyebrow, interested of her friend's reaction. In the back of her mind she wondered if Nathan had seen any of this, but hushed the thought with doubt.

She won. Of course she won, has Vi ever lost? Well, yes, obviously, but that's besides the point. The point is, that, she won. She beat Nate's goddamn avoidance games, trusting his best buddy Oz to bring him to the party in a stranglehold if need be. And, she kind of wanted to see it. A damn awesome sight it'd be, Oz just wheeling Nate in, with his arms round his neck, giving him no option but to come and maybe futilely resist. It was hard to suppress the laugh- not only because of her epic victory, but because Amber also smiled back at her. And things, while not right, they'd never really be right, but well. It was normal. It was how it should be; the status quo. And that's goddamn awesome, in her opinion, because if the status quo ever shattered, she really couldn't picture herself talking to anyone other than Nate and Lace for sure, with the occasional Amber and Oz. And she really liked everyone else, although she didn't have really any common ground with them. Possibly Charlie, but that'd be a stretch. And only because they were both outgoing.

But of course, the status quo, like everything, shattered in an instant; gone in no time at all. And the instigator of it was Charlie giving notice to Briton's goddamn bloody knee. Things happened in a flash while a rare but surely quiet rage built up inside of Vi's volatile heart. Briton stammered and tried to deny it in his own why - not unlike she did when her own bloody hand was put on spotlight-, while Sam gauzed it up as best as he could with the random assorted crap bundled up in that bag- why the heck did he even have that in his bag? It came in handy, at least, and maybe even showed Briton that, yes, he had friends, and yes, they cared a whole hell of a lot over his well being, and that he could confide. But heck, what was she thinking? It's not like she confided to any of the others about her super hero mode.

Well, maybe it'll change. I tell wimpy boy about my fights, then he opens up to me about who does this shit to him Then I'll go and knock their heads!

But first, she needed an opportunity to pull it off. And, unfortunately, she had her night slated to trying to seduce Nate... although she could just hold off on that. Not like she's particularly good at being feminine anyways- hell, she figures she shoulda just been born a guy and bypass the monthly hip aches and boobs aches and other stuff. Amber then got up and left to the toilet, after giving Lacey a significant look- and Violet decided to try and put her plan into motion. Maybe just give Nate up for the redheaded Amber. At least she belonged in this stupid dumpy town. Unlike her. At least she didn't have to be afraid of Rope Guy, unlike her.

Hell no. Nate's mine... I won't get beaten by my own thoughts, at least!

Vi stood up abruptly and walked up to the boy that should have been a girl, and looked at him meaningfully- urgently. Hoping he realized that it wasn't just one of her stupid crazy jokes; that for once, Vi could be serious. Because she's real serious now; a super hero doesn't let asshole bad guys beat up on anyone- let alone a close friend! They'd pay. They'd have to pay. It's only right. Violet would make sure she made it right. Her first clenched, leaving behind red marks where the nails dug deep into the soft sensitive skin.

They'll be sorry. They'll beg for mercy. I won't give them none. Not one bit. I'll destroy them.

"Come to the party." She said softly, almost pleadingly to Briton. "Gotta talk to you about stuff. It's important, okay? Gotta get stuff off my chest. You know? We can just hang in a quiet corner or some crap, okay?"

She shook his shoulder lightly, hoping that she got the message.

They won't get away with it. They'll never think of touching you again.

Then her cue to return back to the wacky crazy Violet arrived- Amber came back on scene from her little bathroom break, looking at least a little bit more at east as she asked the waiter out to the party- why would she? Didn't she like Nathan? Was it a trick to try and make Nate jealous? Curious and distracted, she eyed Nathan almost threateningly, gauging his reaction to Amber's move. And after that, she shrugged and turned to her singing buddy.

"Let's go raid that closet now." She said eagerly, gesturing at the door, and anxious to get the show on the road. "C'mon, Lace, let's go. This diner's gettin' pretty boring anyways, am I right?"

"Who was it?" Nathan asked, and the question from him was enough to cause a sudden jolt in Briton's body, having not expected that in the least. Not from him, anyway.

"Who did that to your knees, Briton?" Nathan reiterated. He was saying what everyone was already thinking, sure, but couldn't he just leave it alone like they did? It was just something that happened, and it should just have been left alone in the first place!

Briton gritted his teeth, holding back emotional reactions as best he could. Too many eyes were on him, he couldn't take it. Turning his head back to the group, darting to Nathan's overwhelming intensity before quickly leaving his face and circling around to everyone else. Stop, he thought, far too on edge to make the words actually come out of his mouth. Just stop looking at me, already! His gaze darted back to the floor where no one stood, trying to pretend that no one else were there, pretend that those dreadful eyes weren't on him. His fists clenched, his eyes shut tightly for a moment. How in hell did Nathan expect him to answer that damned question? He wanted to hide. He wanted to run off to the bathroom and hide in one of the stalls. Maybe cry a little bit and wait for everyone else to leave. But no, when his emotions suddenly clicked in, digging their way out of the back of his mind and plowing their way through the synapses like a truck, it was a far different one than he expected.

Briton's face hardened, as he stood slowly, bringing a stern, green-eyed gaze directly over to Nate. "Oh? And what are you going to do with that information, huh?" He finally said. If it weren't for a slight crack to his voice, the emotion coming out of him could have been considered furious. "You're gonna beat them up? Teach them a lesson?" His words emerged as if it were such an obvious and irresponsible move.

"What? You're gonna be some big hero for saving me from the bad guys?" It wasn't too much longer before the sudden burst of emotion was beginning to wear down, but he tried his best to power through to the end of his rant. "Don't you realize that the more you fight back the harder they come? Do you really want to be responsible for causing me more pain?"

"It's my business," Briton continued, his gaze finally breaking while he settled back down in his seat and stared down at his knees, making busy about rolling up both of his pant legs properly, fulling showing off both of them, with bloodied gauze, while his voice slowly went back to being it's usual, quiet tone. "I haven't been sticking my nose in yours, now have I?" He gave a small sigh, feeling defeated and exhausted. "If you want to know, then whatever. Fine. It was Ryan Chaffon, but anyone in my class will back up the story that he accidentally bumped into me."

He hesitated a moment, biting his lip while he grabbed the gauze from the table in front of him, plopping it in his lap before beginning to unwrap the bloody bandages from his knees. His next words were more so of a mutter. "But if anyone really wants to beat someone up, you should go after Vic Rockford." He wadded up the filthy, bloody gauze and shoved it in his pocket without a care. "Not gonna explain why for that one, though."

Briton would have shuddered at that thought, coming back to his main sexual harasser. Maybe the guy was just getting out all of those pent up gay feelings by torturing someone else, but it certainly wasn't making things any better, and it wasn't making the idea of actually telling anyone about being gay any easier for Briton. For now, he'd just forget about it. Push it back and avoid it. Just another thing he wasn't going to deal with as long as he didn't have to.

He leaned over the table quickly, grabbing a wad of the napkins out of the holster against the wall before plopping back in his seat and using them to wipe up some of the blood that had accumulated. Hands going back to the fresh gauze, he made a quick effort to wrap his knees up again before they started bleeding again. He didn't look at any of his friends, didn't bother saying anything. He didn't want to deal with anyone else trying to 'help' him. Not like this. He felt like they were trying to attack him themselves, get rid of the middle man. Like gym class wasn't enough. Like bloody knees weren't enough. Like the damn taste in his mouth wasn't enough. Too bad Violet's leftover milkshake hadn't been enough to wash away that memory. He still felt like he needed to brush his teeth.

Briton looked up, having finished his quick job of tying up his wound, just in time to see Violet, a stern, dead-serious look on her face. It was actually a bit intimidating, but Briton was far too tired to shy away from her. At least he could tell she wasn't in one of those moods about going on some hero rampage right this minute, or some joke to try and cheer him up. "Come to the party." She suddenly urged, and Briton's gaze quickly averted from her. "Gotta talk to you about stuff. It's important, okay? Gotta get stuff off my chest. You know? We can just hang in a quiet corner or some crap, okay?"

She put a hand on Briton's shoulder, giving him a firm shake to make sure her message got through. But still, partying wasn't his thing. Maybe he was a little safer hanging out with his friends, but after everything today, that wasn't much of a reason to go.

"I'll think about it," He muttered softly in response to her, not bringing his gaze away from that safe place where no one else from the group was standing until she had moved along, off to prompt the girls to get going.

Sighing, Briton turned his gaze back to his guy friends around the table, almost all of whom, were sort of pissing him off. Giving a glance at Oz one more time, however, and thinking about how the girls were leaving, he was remembering about all of them (unless they really wanted to walk) needing a ride. He supposed he could tolerate the short ride, as long as none of them talked to him, maybe he could make it home without having a mental breakdown and getting in a car accident. But then... His eyes went to Nate for a small moment, before darting back. He was just plain mad at Nate for deciding to call him out when everyone else knew better than to go any further than scoffing or rolling their eyes. If Nate needed a ride, Briton was almost going to be tempted to say he could ride in the trunk. Well, almost. Too bad.

"I guess since the girl's are ditching, I'm the only other option for you guys aside from walking is my car, huh?" He finally said, rolling down his pant legs before leaning back in chair and staring at his hands in front of him, picking at his nails uncomfortably. It better be a damn quiet ride. "Up to you guys what you're gonna do."

My intrusive question as to who Briton's attackers were was answered by the man in question, albeit rather reluctantly, or a better way of putting it; angrily. And it wasn't just the way he answered, either, but the actual words he used that hit a little deep. After all, it was true. And the truth does hurt... Briton has never put me on the spot regarding my hidden agenda, nor over anything else for that matter, and yet, here I was forcing everyone's attention onto the poor guy, despite knowing how scopophobic he could often be, as well as prone to embarrassment whenever his life was at the center of conversation. I didn't do it because I enjoy watching him squirm, unlike someone I know who just loves doing that to me... No, I did it because I needed to know who might end up trying to kill him.

"Hm..." That was all my voice could sound. A simple, low "hm" in response to his minor retaliation, which he didn't even choose to follow up on in the end. Before anyone could direct their attention to me, however, Briton surprisingly submitted and gave out the names of his bullies. I wasn't surprised to hear the first name, but Vic Rockford...? I'd never seen nor heard of this guy ever bullying other students, so why was he messing with Briton...? Pushing that thought aside for now, I chose to focus on what was immediately important: there were more than just 3 people messing with Briton... I knew of only 3; one of which was Ryan Chaffon, who I've heard some particularly justifiable rumors about in the halls of our school, and who I have actually witnessed harming others, but it was clear that there were only a couple of physical bullies at most, who were messing with Briton. Any others were likely nothing more than verbal abusers, which can sometimes be even worse than causing someone physical pain, depending on who it is and what is said to them. So that begs the question: just what was it that Vic Rockford did to Briton that could place him at the top of his hate list? It had to be something he found to be worse than physical or verbal abuse... Public humiliation maybe? No, that can't be it... We all would have heard about it by now if that was what happened... Giving my head a slight shake, I discarded the reasoning. It didn't matter what it was that happened; all that mattered was that whatever it was left an apparent mental scar on Briton, and the son of a bitch responsible didn't deserve to get away with it.

My thoughts drifted back to Briton's own question. What was I going to do with this information...? Obviously, whatever it took to get them to leave my friend alone, but if it did come down to opening the doors to the school of hard knocks, I was confident that I could hold my own against either of Vic Rockford or Ryan Chaffon. That being said, I wasn't foolish enough to allow any possible hubris to take root within me, which is why I wouldn't be tackling this alone. There was only one person whom I could trust to back me up with both sound reasoning and stature, and with their fists if absolutely necessary; no matter how much of a passive he was... My eyes locked onto my best friend, Oz, who I was certain would be more than happy to accompany me on a walk so we could discuss this. Hell, he would likely jump at the excuse just to chat with me at all, what with how much of an antisocial ass I've been to him, of all people, over the past year or so...

I was honestly glad that Violet, too, decided to jump in and express her concerns openly to our friend-in-need. If there was one person out of this bunch that Briton could wholly rely on for aid in fending off harassment, it'd be this girl. She was beyond loyal, and has proven how tough she can be more than just a few times. Makes me wanna when I recall how many boys I've seen get their asses kicked on the playground when I was growing up with her. She jumped the gun with a lot of people she thought were bad, but her heart was in the right place for sure, and God help any poor soul she knew to be bad... Even if I were to do nothing on my end to help Briton, as long as he has Vi watching his back, things would work out just fine for him in the end. Of that I was sure. After all, she's never let me down. Not for anything...

Realizing I was remaining entirely silent throughout Briton's information about what happened to him and who caused it, I figured I may as well wrap up my rather simple 'interrogation' of one of my oldest friends. I only stayed so silent because nothing else needed to be said, really, since all I was looking for was a name -- or in this case, name(s). But that was when Amber came back from her bathroom break, appearing fairly giddy over something. Didn't take me long to realize just what it was she was holding in her hand, which she confirmed by announcing it to everyone at the table. Great... So the waiter was coming to the party I didn't want to go to... On top of that, Briton was sending me several dark vibes of obvious anger, which, to be quite honest, made me feel like shit despite my good intentions. It was sort of similar to what I'd imagine feeling from everyone at the table -- as well as Cora who wasn't currently there -- should I ever tell them the truth... It tied knots in my stomach, which had no relation to the nauseating feeling that was still churning within the bottom of my stomach which was the result of the finished milkshake sitting in front of me.

Before I could stop myself, I made a rather annoying sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a click of my tongue... "Tch..." Oops. It was rather loud and obvious as to who it came from, especially since I was also wearing a bit of a grimace. 3 strikes; you're out, kiddo. That was the third time I had mistakenly let my feelings show towards this...waiter business... And I highly doubted that it would be overlooked again. I'm never that lucky... Clearing my throat, I stood up and placed my hands in my pockets. Closing my eyes for a moment before letting out a small sigh, I chose to speak to Briton once more, giving him the response I meant to give a minute ago before Amber threw my mind into a short loop. "Briton, you might be upset with me because I put you on the spot all of the sudden, but I only asked because I was concerned..." I said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "And as for what I'm going to do, well... I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." I throw up a small shrug and slide out from the table after placing the money for my beverage on the table, then proceeding to tap Oscar on the shoulder. "Hey, mind taking a walk with me? Seems like the girls are gonna be waist-deep in Narnia once they reach Lacey's closet, and Briton's probably too irked to wanna give me a ride home, so I'd appreciate the company." I finished, giving him a friendly smile.

Whatever the case, I slowly walked over to the door that was just behind the back-end of the seats where our table was located. Pausing, I pull out my watch and check the time as I give Briton another response. "And Briton... I know I don't really have the right to involve myself in your life after being so distant with everyone, but..." I paused, closing my watch with a click as I looked up into his eyes, trying to convey how I truly felt. "Nobody fucks with my friends..." Giving him an affectionate smile that said something along the lines of "Got it?", I then nodded at Violet. "See you at the party, Vi. After all, it appears that I owe you a dance?" Tossing a playful wink in her direction, I waved goodbye to the others, my eyes trained on Amber for a moment out of reflex before leaving the scene. Once outside, I look up and take in the now orange sky; the clouds in the distance were giving off a beautiful pink hue. Taking in a deep breath through my nose as I close my eyes, I let out a lengthy sigh, opening my eyes again with a melancholic smile on my face. Despite taking in the beautiful image above, I just couldn't stop thinking about how bad this night might turn out for me in the end...