a/n- it's been a minute. a lot of shit happens in this and it made me sad and annoyed. please know i do not agree with anything any of the side characters have to say.


I miss the way my mama knew what to do
She said to do right by your neighbour
And they'll do right by you
When we get older we can forget the truth
That if you do right by your neighbour
Then they'll do right by you

- "Do Right," The Glades

.

It was the tenth time in the past three minutes her phone went off, vibrating in her hand, and this time Dylan couldn't help but groan. Her first instinct was to delete this group chat entirely, but that seemed too petty, even for her standards, so the next best option was muting the whole thing. It was, like, an important group, she guessed, considering who was in it, but… but goddamn it was annoying.

More than annoying, actually, if Dylan wanted to get to the heart of the matter.

She didn't.

Her sister, Ryan, said there's gotta be something we can do, and Jamie, the other one, replied we don't even go to school there. Patrick added we're still kind of threatening aren't we and Sammi sent three laughing emojis before maybe I am but you're just that dorky kid who sketched all the time. Patrick didn't take kindly to that, yelling I WAS THE QUARTERBACK OF THE FOOTBALL TEAM, to which Harris replied hell yeah baby you were. Cam, back inside, sniped at them that soccer is better, and Ryan turned it back to what they were talking about before: Alicia deserves better than this, that Danny kid is a prick. Harris, because he's an asshole, said yeah and he showed everybody his. Jamie, being even worse than Harris, if that were possible, sent back not impressed by it tbh. I've seen better.

The eleventh text was from Harris, who could never pass up an opportunity to be gross. Yeah, he said back to Jamie, you've seen mine.

Sammi, Patrick, and Cam sent her phone buzzing again, disliking the comment.

Derrick, the only sane one in this chat, was the twelfth message, and the last one Dylan deigned to read, silencing #HarringtonMarvilFishers. He merely commented I will fucking murder all of you.

It was hard to tell if the siblings cared much about this latest scandal- and there had been many others before this- or if they just wanted something to gossip about. All that mattered to Dylan, really, was that her sisters were, once again, interested in something that had nothing to do with her. In fact, if she knew them well enough, they'd stop their goading and teasing momentarily to figure out how to help Alicia. And if they didn't help Alicia, they'd send her a gift card to, like, Saks or something, because they cared about everyone but their own sister… unless their sister had a boyfriend they were trying to steal.

The front door shut behind her and heavy footsteps sounded until they were close enough to descend the steps. One, two, three, and then he was sitting there, next to her, elbows on his knees, gaze straight ahead.

"Did you know?" Dune asked.

"Did I know what?"

"About Abeley and Briarwood."

Dylan smacked her lips. "No," she said. "I don't even remember what happened that night. Were you there?"

He shook his head. "We- Danny and the rest of us, I mean- we went somewhere else. Some girl's. Danny was trying to sle… you know, that doesn't really matter."

"Your friend's a pig," Dylan said. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, applying so much pressure the darkness behind her lids pulsed with color. What did it say about her that she was ruminating on her sisters and their dislike of her when Alicia's life was quite literally falling apart?

"Can't say we're friends anymore," Dune revealed slowly. She thought she felt him look at her, but she, herself, refused to take her gaze off the lawn in front of her. "At least I imagine we won't be after he finds out I'm here."

"And you're here, risking all of that," Dylan provided, "because Alicia is hot."

Typical of a boy.

"I just said that to piss off your boys."

Dylan started at the possession. They weren't hers. None of them belonged to her, not even Derrick or Cam, who probably should, their families intertwined the way they were. She'd once considered Plovert her best friend, but even he was wont to run off when something better came calling, and Kemp, her own boyfriend, had been with her sisters.

Dune continued like he hadn't noticed her reaction, "Danny is a pig. He deserves every bad thing you decide to do to him. I only wanted to help."

Dylan felt her brow quirk. "Why? It's not like this is the first time he's done something like this. You've never cared before."

"I care now," Dune returned. "Isn't that enough?"

That was the thing. "I'm not sure it is," she replied. "If you'd cared before, this wouldn't have happened. If you hadn't been complicit-"

"I admit I wasn't the greatest person in the past-"

"You were part of the scheme that humiliated Penelope Rothman, and I heard you were the mastermind behind leaking those texts between Jax and Amber Ryan, who is an angel, and didn't you spread Natalie's nudes around?"

Dune opened his mouth, but Dylan didn't let him finish. "I wouldn't call that not being the greatest person in the past," she said. "I'd call that being a bully and a perpetrator of sexual harrassment, probably, and that is why I'm not so sure you're here with good intentions."

"I never did any of those things," he told her, and he didn't sound angry, which was puzzling. Most people freaked when their names were smeared in the mud like that. "I thought you of all people would know what it's like to be associated with things your group does even though you had no part in it."

She ignored the jab. "Why are you here, Dune?" Dylan questioned, turning to look at him.

She was startled to find him already looking at her. His eyes were bright in the dying light of day, a blue she'd never seen before. "Like I said, I want to help. I've sat back long enough, haven't I?"

"But why now? What's in it for you?"

"Maybe nothing." He blinked. "Maybe everything."

That was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.

Dune curved his lips into a smile that probably had all the girls melting in their seats. It didn't work on Dylan. "Do you need a ride?"

"You're going home?"

"Kind of feel like my work here is done," he said. "Besides, it's a train wreck in there. Are you sure y'all are friends?"

"Yes," answered Dylan, even though the answer was really no.

Dune stared at her like he could sense that, her confusion, her lack of confidence. After all, she was sitting out here, right, instead of in there, working on… on whatever it was they were working on.

"Massie and her mom are, like, passive aggressively going at it," he told her, painting a picture. "Alicia is crying again because someone texted her, and Kristen is arguing with Kemp, and Harrington's just… he's a real angry kid, I thought that was Hurley."

"Nope," Dylan said.

"I thought he was obsessed with Block, not Alicia."

"It varies with them."

"With who?"

"All of them," she supplied and it felt like word vomit. "At any given time they like Massie more and then it can switch to Alicia and then it switches back."

There was a beat of silence where Dune pondered his next words. "And who likes you the most?"

Who likes you the most, Dylan? It made her stomach hurt just thinking about it. Names and faces and interactions flooded her mind only to disappear once she said, "No one."

"Derrick, maybe," she amended, that need to prove she wasn't a complete and total loser overpowering her better senses, the ones telling her to shut up and go back inside. To stop being such a sad sack and help her friend, who was going through more than her. "But I'm taking a backburner since Alicia is more important-"

"That's dumb," Dune interrupted. "You're cool. They should like you best no matter the situation. It's also, like, definitely not hard to be friends with more than one girl at a time."

Cruelly Dylan cooed, "Your area of expertise?"

"You're combative tonight," pointed out Dune. He looked weary around the corners of his eyes. Kind of tired.

"I'm combative most nights," Dylan retorted. "Please remember you don't know me."

"Please remember you don't know me either," he shot back. "I haven't made any assumptions about you and yet here you are-"

"I'm not friends with, with, with a sexual predator!"

"You are friends with a bunch of stuck up bitches but you don't see me calling you one."

Dylan narrowed her eyes at him and bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. He was so… so relaxed here, belittling her and her friends, and it was infuriating the way the porchlight highlighted his sharp cheekbones. Boys always had beautiful faces when they didn't deserve them while Dylan was blessed with hers, a pale, freckly mess of skin, with cheeks too round and a nose too big for her own good.

"That shit you think I'm part of," he began to explain, "it's… I don't. That's Danny and P.J. and probably Dempsey, I don't know, but I don't…" He swallowed, and it was nervous, like he was telling Dylan some big secret. "I'm friends with girls, yes, but not like you think. I've never- I haven't- I haven't… done that, you know. Yet. With a person."

"Right."

"I'm telling the truth. I wouldn't lie to you about this."

"And what makes me so special?" asked Dylan. "Why are you telling me this? Why did you seek me out?"

"Compared to everyone else, you're relatively sane," Dune said. "You were nice to me before, too, when no one else was, so I just… I thought…" He stopped there before he could finish the thought. "I trust you, I guess."

Uncomfortably ignoring the thrill that went through her at his admittance, Dylan countered, "Maybe you shouldn't. I'm hardly trustworthy."

Dune caught her eyes, held them. "I think you're wrong."

"Yeah?" Dylan asked. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Feelings can be wrong," Dylan reminded him.

"Yeah, well," Dune started, "we'll have to see if I'm right."

"And if you are?"

He pushed himself up, lit up from the back. "Nothing. I'll just be right." He tilted his head, taking her in. "Why? Do you want me to be wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet," she responded. She wiped her palms on her thighs and pushed herself up. "Now, come on, if you plan on being part of this group, you can't just leave once it gets messy. We have work to do."

.

Massie Block: hey
Massie Block: idk where you are but ur mom called
Massie Block: i covered for you and said you were here
Massie Block: i wont do it again
Claire Lyons: read at 5:53 am

.

Kristen Gregory added Dune Baxter to the group
Kemp Hurley removed Dune Baxter from the group
Kristen Gregory added Dune Baxter to the group
Kemp Hurley removed Dune Baxter from the group

Kemp Hurley: not today, Satan

Kristen Gregory: did you just call me Satan

Kristen Gregory added Dune Baxter to the group

Dune Baxter: is it safe
Kemp Hurley: no

Kemp Hurley changed Kristen Gregory's name to Satan

Satan: ffs

Dune Baxter liked Kristen Gregory's name change

Alicia Rivera: hi dune
Dune Baxter: hi alicia

.

It must be awfully embarrassing to be in porn, Alicia thought.

It was an odd thing to ponder, but it happened anyway, and she strode down the hall like she normally did, weighing the merits of sex work. These people were watched by people all over the world; strangers knew the sounds they made, the intricacies of their bodies, the facial expressions. And they chose to do that, to have people know them in this private, personal way, and Alicia… Alicia knew she would never be able to do that. She never made that choice.

Everyone was staring at her. Everyone, and it wasn't because of her black and white oversized poncho or the thigh-high black boots she painstakingly laced up at seven this morning.

It was because they knew. They knew her now, the way her mouth looked, and her cheeks, and her eyes. They knew about the little gasp thing she did, and the way she gave Danny Robbins everything he wanted without complaint. Nothing about her was secret anymore. If they knew that, they could guess the rest, even if she didn't know it herself.

Her hair, slick straight down her back, was gripped in a tight fist and tugged when she got to her locker.

P.J. Levine chortled as she slapped at his hands, nose scrunched in delight. "Thought you liked that, Rivera," he defended. His friends- none of them Dune and, thankfully, none of them Danny- laughed along, because, you know, sex crimes were funny to boys like them.

"Yeah," Alicia said coolly, repeating Dune's advice in her head- don't give them the satisfaction, it's what they want- and smiling demurely. "I'd have to like you, though, and I don't, so…"

She closed her locker, heading along, trying to remember what class she had next. Trying to ignore her racing heart and shaky hands.

She did not get far: P.J. grabbed her hair again, this time hard enough for it to hurt, and yanked. Alicia bit her tongue to keep herself from squealing- no sounds, no sounds, no sounds- but could not repress the shiver that traveled down her spine when he whispered, "I'd think twice before you say things like that. I'd hate for something worse to happen to you," in her ear.

"Are you threatening me?"

P.J. smiled. She could see it in the corner of her eye, where his cheek pressed against the side of her head. He smelled nice, she thought unwillingly, which she hated. "Me? Threaten you? Absolutely not. I was just saying personally I would hate if something else happened to you." He huffed out a laugh, bordering on cruel. "You are my favorite Pretty Committee member, you know."

One of the kids in the back, Alicia didn't know his name, didn't care, snorted. "Which was why you were all over Claire Lyons Saturday night?"

Alicia's spine smoothed out, shoulders falling, frozen in place.

"Claire's not in this little group anymore," P.J. answered. His breath ghosted along Alicia's ear. "Is she?"

Swinging away from him, Alicia twisted on her heel and stared at him, hoping her eyes were narrowed and not as wide as they felt. She did not like Claire, not right now, at least, and she should be worried about herself, all things considered, but that didn't stop her from demanding, "What'd you do to Claire?"

Claire, who she hadn't seen in school yet.

Claire, who was not in the carpool this morning.

Claire, who was making three thousand terrible decisions in the past week alone.

Claire, who she didn't necessarily like, but hated the thought of something happening to her.

"Nothing she didn't want," P.J. replied.

Alicia blinked, a million scenarios running through her head, all of them worse than the other. "I'm leaving," she announced.

"See you around," P.J. called, his friends tittering around him.

Alicia made sure to keep her gait steady and slow, like she normally did, ambling away from them. Her footfalls sounded like gunshots as she walked. Every group she passed seemed to stop and stare at her. Every laugh seemed to be directed towards her. She heaved her bag higher up her shoulder and hid her burning cheeks behind the curtains of her dark hair.

She slipped into her next class earlier than ever and forced herself to remain aloof and unbothered, despite her desire to bury her head in her arms. Did she have homework this weekend? She didn't do it if so. She flipped through her planner to see, saw nothing, and jotted down the day's assignment instead in swirling penmanship, too girlish for her liking. She dotted her 'I's with hearts sometimes. Today was one of those days.

It made her feel eight. It made her feel twelve. It made her feel stupid.

She erased the whole thing. Rewrote it. Tried to keep her writing as uniform and neat as possible, but the y at the end of essay curled up and over, ruining that.

She tried again.

Alicia did this for the next few minutes as the rest of the class filed in, attempting some sort of control. All she found was she couldn't control herself, which- that was right, unfortunately.

Even worse, she hated herself for flinching when a hand- and not just any hand- tentatively placed itself on her shoulder. She knew this hand, this hand never did anything to her, and yet…

"Sorry." It recoiled, but the presence remained.

"My fault," Alicia replied. "I shouldn't have done that."

Derrick sighed angrily, dropping into the seat next to her. "You don't have to listen to a thing that idiot says," he told her. "For all we know, Dune is-"

"I don't want to hear it again," she interrupted. "I'm tired."

"But Alicia."

"He's right," she said, even though it killed her. "They want me to fall apart here and they want me to seek revenge and they want me to have stayed home today, tomorrow, and for the rest of the week." She reached up to rub her face before remembering she'd spent twenty minutes perfecting her cat-eye. She scratched the skin between her thumb and finger instead. "I have to be better."

"Better than what? Them?" Derrick scoffed. "It's not that hard."

Alicia shook her head. "I just-" She swallowed, averting her eyes. Derrick could be so intense when he wanted to be. "I shouldn't give them the satisfaction."

"They dropped-"

"Derrick, please," begged Alicia. "I have to deal with this in my head already. I don't need to hear it from you too."

He opened his mouth to respond, brows furrowed, cheeks reddening. They did that when he was worked up, she knew, and she didn't like that everyone else seemed to think they could feel more about her situation than she could. Alicia twisted in her seat, facing forward, and let him know she wasn't planning on listening to whatever he had to say.

The boys could have their own problems with each other. She didn't need to get involved in whatever pissing contest they had going on. Dune was fine. He was never as bad as his friends, even if he was complicit in their behaviors. He'd left them after this, after the video was sent around, and that was enough for her. If Derrick and his boys had a problem with him, deal with it without her.

Derrick got the hint, silencing himself. Though he did grumble under his breath, he followed her lead and attempted to pay attention in class. Alicia felt him look at her every so often, felt everyone look at her. She merely crossed her ankles under her desk and copied everything her teacher said. It didn't matter that she didn't know what he was talking about or how it mattered- she wrote it all down.

Paul Danno in the front was answering a question when the loudspeaker crackled. "Alicia Rivera to the principal's office," the voice said. "Alicia Rivera to the principal's office."

If Alicia's heart wasn't already in her stomach, it would be now.

She couldn't let them know that though.

She packed her things with steady hands, hooked her bag over her shoulder again, and stood.

Derrick looked at her quizzically, and Alicia forced a smile. "It's probably because of my shoes," she tells him in a whisper. "I always get in trouble for these."

"Text me when you get out," he replied, not even bothering to lower his voice.

Alicia nodded though she had no intention of doing so. Her phone had been powered off since she'd received the video of herself. It had blown up immediately after, messages flooding it left and right. Girls called her out, rude and judgmental, and boys made snide comments about her body, rated her, asked where they could sign up for the next one. She couldn't handle it. Not knowing what people were saying about her was keeping her sane and she was not about to jeopardize that, not even for Derrick Harrington.

The halls were empty as she walked, her background music comprising of her heart pounding in her temples, roaring in her ears.

It wasn't a long walk to Principal Burns' office, but it felt like it went on for ages. Alicia thought about everything and nothing as she made her way there, creating a million and one scenarios in her head. She knew what she was going in for, though she really hoped it was for her shoes.

(She'd never once gotten in trouble for these, and she'd worn them time and time again.)

A little bell rang above her head, chiming incessantly, when she entered the office. Heads popped up as she did so, young women working as school administration under Burns' lead, all staring at her with curiosity (and a bit of disgust and pity). The video must've made it to them as well. Probably the highlight of their boring day, annoying adults with no lives.

Alicia cleared her throat and sat at the bench by Burns' office, crossing her legs.

"Hi Alicia," the newest administrative assistant said, dropping a handful of files on the cabinet beside her. "How are you doing?"

The look on her face- mouth pressed into a tight line, face pinched- Alicia knew she'd seen the video, she knew what was happening to her, what was going on around school. Not like she wouldn't. Marion was a fan favorite amongst the students, being young enough to understand a girl's plight and pretty enough to get the boys' attention. A number of seniors last year had attempted to ask her to prom, which was wildly inappropriate, but Marion lived for it, always humoring the boys and gossiping with the girls. It was a wonder she hadn't been fired yet.

Knowing all of this, Alicia forced a smile. She was not about to get caught up in this shit, regardless of how nice Marion was. "I'm fine," she answered. "Cheerleading is a lot for me right now, but at least football season is almost over and we have a few months off before basketball starts up."

Marion blinked, fingers moving on her own accord to file whatever folders she had. "I meant about the vid-"

"Miss Rivera," a different woman said loudly, an older one. She transferred over from when OCD and Briarwood merged, and she knew Alicia. She'd known her for years actually, ever since, like, second grade. It upset her to think she knew about Alicia's recent faux-paux and she couldn't look her in the eye, even as she was saving her from what was, no doubt, a certain embarrassment. "Principal Burns will see you now."

Alicia gathered her things, offered Marion a casual wave, and nodded at Mrs. Beeline.

"Miss Rivera," Principal Burns greeted, still looking birdlike as ever. Eyes narrowed and mouth pursed, she looked more like the crow they all cawed at her than a person. "Lovely to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," the girl replied, mouth dry. She hadn't been called to this office since the merging, but back in the day, back when OCD and Briarwood were two separate entities, she'd known this office, or whatever it looked like before, like she knew her own home. "How are things? How's your baby?"

"She's six now, so hardly a baby," Burns replied, "but she's doing well. She is having a potluck at school this afternoon, so I'm leaving after this to attend."

"That's nice," Alicia said. Her parents never showed up for things like that. They were always too busy, but her dad did send authentic Spanish cuisine to every elementary school event.

"Indeed." Burns steepled her fingers in front of her, looking pensive. "Look, Miss Rivera, I don't want to be anything other than frank with you, you understand?"

Alicia nodded, swallowing. Burns' face was pinched at the eyes, the lips, and she knew what this was about.

"There is a very… unsavory video of you going around," said Burns. "I know that often you girls think I am out to get you, but I really only ever want to ensure you are safe and smart, especially when you are no longer within these walls. I thought we at OCD taught you better than this."

"I didn't," Alicia started. "I didn't know."

"You consented to it?" the principal asked. "You wanted to do it? No one pressured you-"

"No!" Alicia exclaimed. "Of course not. No. I- I did want to, yes, I just didn't- I didn't want it to be recorded. I didn't know."

Burns sighed. "Alicia," she said, and that was the first time she'd ever used the girl's first name. "I have known you for so long, and I hate that I have to do this with you. It got around, this video, and not just to the student body." She paused, pressing fingers to her eyes. "The faculty got it. The school board. The superintendent."

Alicia's heart, already in her stomach, sunk to her feet.

It wasn't like this was news to her. She'd assumed. They'd all assumed. Things like this get taken, sent out, saved, sent out again. It was a matter of time before the entire county got it. The whole state. The next town over, New Jersey, Connecticut. If the older siblings had already seen it, who knew where it could go next?

"Right," she replied. Her throat hurt with the effort. Suddenly it was too hot for her weather-appropriate poncho. She tugged at the neck.

"They tried to call for your immediate expulsion," Principal Burns told her. "As you know, there is a strong sexual conduct policy here at BOCD. We do not encourage it nor do we turn a blind eye."

And yet when Plovert slept with a student teacher and boys pulled mean pranks on girls in the locker rooms and relationships were flaunted around with gross amounts of PDA, nothing was said. There were blind eyes, Alicia knew, but there were none when the girl was as busty and pretty as she was. There would be consequences for her actions, just based on the type of body she unfortunately possessed.

It got hotter.

She said something like understandable, she thought. It made sense, what she was being told, and it would make more sense if it was acted upon every time something happened that broke this policy. Just last year the boys' lacrosse team played Peeping Tom to the girls on the swim team, but all they got was a slap on the wrist when someone told on them. The girls got the usual boys will be boys speech and whole lot of jokes about their bodies by the male student body. One of them, if Alicia recalled correctly, was even told by Dean Don- who now served as Vice Principal- that she should probably wear more clothes if she was going to get upset about it. She was at swim practice.

"I convinced them otherwise." Principal Burns leaned over to place her hand over Alicia's. Much to Alicia's surprise, she held on and squeezed. "What happened was not your wish, I know that. You are not the kind of girl the world tries to make you out to be. You would tell me if you did something you did not want to do, right?"

No, Alicia thought. Her mouth said otherwise.

"The board is suspending you for improper sexual behavior."

"I wasn't on school grounds," Alicia protested. "Can they do that?"

"When parents are as angry as they are, I imagine so," Burns replied. "They have to give them what they want or else-"

"Or else the funding and the scholarships stop coming in," Alicia finished bitterly. "And Danny? What's happening to him?"

The silence on her principal's end was deafening.

Alicia nodded. "How long?"

"A month, starting today."

"A month?" Alicia repeated, the words heavy in her mouth. "That's… that's… I'll miss midterms and the winter dance and the soccer and football championship games and cheerleading tryouts for basketball and the winter musical and-"

Principal Burns squeezed her hand again, breathing sharply through her nose. "I believe that's the point," she murmured. "The punishment is to ensure you can't do much of anything this year."

"And nothing is happening to Danny? Not a thing? He recorded it! He sent it out! I was just a drunk girl who thought I was doing something fun, I didn't think I'd-"

"Well, maybe you should have."

"I shouldn't have to!" Alicia exploded, ripping her hand out Burns'. The back of her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears before they came. "Boys should know better. Boys should have to think too. It's not just me doing that. There are two of us. I shouldn't be the only one getting punished." The room was caving in and the temperature was rising and why did she wear this godawful poncho? "I get everything fun taken away from me and he gets nothing? I don't want him playing in that football game next week. I wanted him stripped of everything too. Principal Burns, please."

"I'm afraid I have no control over any of this," the woman said, "but your parents, if they choose, they can write to the board and-"

"My parents know?"

Burns nodded. "They were called this morning after the meeting commenced. They should be here to pick you up within the hour."

"Oh my god," Alicia breathed, a wave of nausea crashing over her. "Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god."

"Miss Rivera, do you-"

Alicia stood and the room started spinning. "I have to go. I'm going to… I have to…" Her parents know. They know. "Clean my locker. I'm going to clean my locker and I'll… I'll meet my parents in the front? I- yes. That's where I'll be. My locker and then the front of the school. I-" She couldn't even finish her thought before she was sweeping out of the room, straps of her bag getting caught up in her poncho.

She stopped for a moment to right herself only to find her whole body was shaking and her head was pounding and her breaths were coming in ragged. Not wanting to spend another moment with Marion or any of the other admin ladies staring at her, she burst from the office, unzipping every pocket in her bag to unearth her phone.

She'd left it off for almost twelve hours, embarrassed and terrified and insecure, and when she powered it back on, her text tone went off nonstop for what felt like hours. She caught a few of the texts- what's your rate, 10/10, better than Kim K's sex tape for sure, what a slut, what can you expect from someone like her- and used trembling fingers to type out messages to whichever one of her friends she could find first.

.

Alicia Rivera: girls bathroom first floor
Alicia Rivera: immediatamente

.

"What are you doing at my table?" asked Layne, dropping her metal lunchbox. The sound it made seemed to echo throughout the cafeteria.

Cam brightened, grinning up at her, that shit-eating one that showed off too many teeth and just the tiniest hint of tongue. She wanted to slap him but chose not to, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can't say hi to my fave girl at lunch?"

Layne made a scene of looking around. "Your fave girl? Where is she?"

"I'm looking right at her," said Cam.

"Well, in that case, no," she answered. "That's against the rules."

Josh wrinkled his nose, ripping the crusts off his sandwich. "Aren't you in a band together?"

"Yes," Layne enunciated slowly, eyeing him carefully. "And that band has rules. Number one, and most important, is not associating with me during school hours. I have a reputation to maintain."

Cam nodded but made no move to leave. "She thinks I'll tarnish her incredible loner image," he told Josh. "She cares very little about the status quo, but she thinks my proximity will lead to less… opportunities for her."

"Opportunities for what?"

"Protests, all sorts of activism, underground cults, for sure…"

Josh looked up, fingers coated in mustard, and frowned. His eyes were judgmental. "You know, you don't look like a person who does not care about the status quo."

Layne refused to be made uncomfortable in front of dumb jocks, but still managed to scratch her ankle, suddenly itchy, with a pristine Doc Marten. "And you don't look like an idiot," she shot back, "but here we are."

He smiled at her, that annoying boy who threw everything back in her face over the weekend, and despite how cute it looked with those little dimples and the sharp fangs, she wanted to rip it off. "Fair," he agreed, because Josh was pleasant like that- unless he didn't want to be. "But I kind of have the best grades in both our shared math and science classes, so…"

"The underground cults don't care for good grades," Cam whispered. "Don't you know?"

"I didn't," Josh said. "Makes sense, though. You know, for the anarchy."

"Anarchy," Layne repeated.

The seconds ticked away, her lunch period ending right before her eyes as she stood here, interrogating them. She buckled, watching the minute hand move from the five, closer and closer to the ten, and pulled her chair out. It screeched something fierce against the floor, once again drawing attention to her and her unwanted guests. It really wasn't every day she was accompanied by two of BOCD's stupidest popular boys.

"Doesn't make sense for the whole… Claireness of you," Josh added, watching her carefully.

She pulled out a series of foods- she was more of a snacker than an eater- and fashioned herself a homemade Lunchable, piling bits of cheese and sandwich meats on salted crackers. "Claire is my friend," she said. "There is nothing there you have to make sense of."

"Have you seen her?" Cam questioned, leaning forward. His meal, a gross mess of bread, sauce, and beef, laid before him, abandoned. There was a sixty-five percent chance, give or take, it would stain his shirt; she said nothing about that. "Claire. We haven't seen or heard from her since Friday."

"Well, Massie has," Josh said.

"Hardly counts," shot back Cam, still looking at Layne.

"What the fuck year is it," she muttered under her breath. Louder, she answered, "No, I haven't. What's it matter to you?"

Cam shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "Just curious. I may be a bit worried, but that's to be determined."

Layne blinked at them, chewing. "I can't imagine you're bothering me right now because you're a bit worried, but that's to be determined. Out with it."

"I wanted to discuss our new song and Battle of the Bands. Are we entering that?"

"Battle of the Bands is for shit bands," Layne replied. "We're too good for that. We can play at that bar on Elm again and then at Shelby's house party. Oh!" She dropped her food, make a mess of her tiny sandwich in the tupperware container. "You'll never guess who approached me the other day."

"I won't even try."

"Please. Just once. I bet you'll be wrong."

"Then what's the fun in that?"

"It'll be fun for me. Please!"

Cam sighed noisily. "I don't know, Abe. Ripple? She's obsessed with all of us-"

"Skye Hamilton," Layne told him, "for her birthday."

"No," he responded. "No shit? Really? Skye Hamilton? You're shitting me."

"Hand to God," Layne said. "It was Friday, before school ended. She has no idea what our name is, but she said she was a big fan of my idiotic band and would like for us to play her eighteenth birthday."

"Knowing her, that literally can't be good."

"I'm not turning it down because your groups are fighting."

"I never said you should. I just said it would be bad, probably, but I could care less. This is so funny."

"Right? She gave me no info so I have no idea how long we have to play for, but we'll have to get started on the setlist, and, oh, by the way, your new song isn't horrendous, but it needs a lot of work, and I'd like to talk to you abou-"

Josh smacked his lips loudly, wiped his fingers on his napkin. "I'm not here to listen to you talk about your band, though do you guys ever consider changing the name? I'm feeling like Gummy Hearts just isn't doing it for me anymore and you're kind of making me think you're doing bubblegum pop, not whatever emotional nonsense you're doing? Just a thought, but that's not why I'm here."

Layne dragged her gaze from Cam to Josh, focusing on the dark lashes and tanned skin. "I've already spoken to you enough," she said. "So if you're not here to talk about Claire, our shared math and science classes, or Gummy Hearts, which is ironic and perfect, thanks, kindly see yourself to another table."

"Okay, ouch," Josh said. "I thought we were friends."

"I'm not even friends with him"- she shot her thumb towards Cam- "and I see him once a week."

Cam nodded. "It's true."

Josh pressed his lips into a tight line. "Right," he said. "Well, I think we're friends."

"Friends do not threaten each other-"

"-depends on who you're friends with," Cam interrupted. "Derrick threatens me all the time. Massie threatened me last night."

Layne frowned. "That doesn't count. You're basically dating both of them."

"Not anymore," Cam said. "Only Derrick now."

"Barely," commented Josh.

"Hm." Cam pressed his fingertips together and turned his head, peering at his companion. "Wanna date?"

"And have Derrick fight me? Nah." Josh smiled beatifically at Cam, who frowned. "Besides, you're not my type. Too scrawny."

Cam gasped and Layne's eyes, despite her best interests, roamed to the boy's arms, large and muscular in the sleeves of his grey henley. Her gaze moved, following the veins of his neck to his face. "What," she blurted. "Are you only interested in the Hulk?"

"Mark Ruffalo," Josh answered without hesitation. "Not Ed Norton."

"I can deadlift close to two hundred pounds," Cam said blankly. "What the fuck."

"Everyone is more partial to Mark Ruffalo," said Layne.

"Sorry," Josh said, who was not sorry at all, "have you figured anything out, Layne? That's why I'm here."

"Yes and no," said Layne. "Danny did, in fact, send the video, but he only sent it to his friends, like his immediate circle. He spread it around. Another one of them spread it around… I don't know which one though."

"How'd you figure that out?" Josh asked. "Did you get your hands on his phone?"

"Dempsey Solomon's locker is right next to mine," answered Layne. She nibbled on a cracker. "Boys gossip far more than girls do, and they're very loud."

"Was Dune there?" Cam asked.

"At Dempsey's locker? No." Layne quirked a brow, confused by his sudden interest in Dune Baxter. Last they spoke about him, which was an extremely long time ago because she did not care, Dune was a "Cali wannabe who wasn't even that good at football and should stick to surfing, if that's even what he wants to call it."

Dune was an award-winning teen surfer, so. That was weird. And he was also from California…

"He was at Alicia's," she added, remembering. "They were, like, pretty secretive, but he said hello to me as I passed, so-"

"Dune Baxter said hello to you?"

"That's what I just said," Layne replied, "and Alicia said good morning, too. Very out of character, but given everything that happened today I assume she wants as many people on her side as possible-"

Josh blinked, dropping his sandwich. He'd removed the crusts and ripped it into bite-sized pieces but had yet to eat them. "Today?"

"Yeah," Layne said. "She got suspended."

"Suspended?"

"What? When?"

"I just said. Today. This morning," she answered. "At, like, ten? I don't know. It's all over the school. You haven't heard?"

"And you aren't interested in gossip?" Josh shot at her. "You seem to know everything that goes on here."

Layne slurped her juice box, a Capri Sun. "Just because I'm not interested doesn't mean I don't listen."

Cam looked past her, surveying the cafeteria, probably looking for any of their other friends. Layne hadn't heard any of their obnoxious laughs yet, meaning Kristen and Kemp weren't here. Josh frowned, shoved bread into his mouth. Chewed aggressively. They seemed to care a lot about this thing with Alicia, and Alicia in general, which was nice and extremely honorable of them. Layne wondered very vaguely if they'd try to do something about this issue after this was over or if they were just so amped about it because it happened to someone they knew.

"I have to go," said Cam, spotting someone in the distance. "See you after school, Abe." He grabbed his tray, stood, and bent down to kiss the side of her head in his haste.

"What," Josh blurted.

"Never do that again," Layne warned, pinching his side. "You've broken so many rules today."

Cam grinned, even as he zeroed in on who he wanted to speak to- Layne didn't look to see, not caring in the slightest- and mussed her hair. "What's another one, am I right?"

"You're on thin ice," she told him.

"Write a song about it," he retorted.

"BOCDSecrets is gonna love this," Josh said. "Can't wait for that post. What'd you think the caption will be?"

Layne sighed noisily; Cam's features darkened. "That account will be down before the school year's over if I have anything to say about it," he muttered, striding away. She turned only to watch him drop his lunch in the garbage, hand his empty tray to some random kid walking towards the kitchen, and disappear through the cafeteria doors.

"He saw Heidi Sprout," Josh told her. "They're, uh, pretty close."

"With a DSL Dater?" Layne inquired. "Really?"

Josh smirked, teeth white and gleaming. "You are a little gossip, Miss Abeley," he teased. "Cam has an… interesting relationship with them, to say the least?"

Against her better judgment, Layne leaned forward. "And to say the most?"

He chortled, pushing his chair back on its back legs. "Afraid I can't divulge." He mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key, and Layne kicked her foot out, digging it in his calf.

"Hey! Be careful. I need this leg for soccer."

"All the more reason to injure it," Layne said, kicking at it again.

.

There was a difference between need and want, his mother always told him, and today he was putting someone else's needs before his wants. His mother and his (nonexistent) therapist (he refused to go) would be proud.

And this was worth it, this was different. It was Alicia- Alicia, who he'd always liked, Alicia, with her little nose, and her long pretty hair, and her always red lips- lips that he had seen wrap around a-

He cleared his throat, expelling that image with the one he was most familiar with. The tears, the blotchy cheeks, the swollen eyes. Not the… not the other thing, not when it was an invasion of privacy. That was shitty of him.

Derrick pulled his sleeves over his hands, tucked his thumbs into the fabric, and raised a fist to knock. It seemed like the rapping of his fingers echoed in the silence of his home, his siblings in college and his mother at the hospital. Everything was always a little bit too loud when he was alone.

There was an answering grunt on the other side, but he still waited the minute and a half it took his father to allow him entrance with words.

"Hey, Dad," he said.

Scott Harrington looked up from his work, patient files probably, given the musculature and nerve system textbooks he had open by his elbow. He was a big shot surgeon, made his own hours, picked his surgeries based on level of difficulty and if he could write medical journals about them. He met Derrick's mom at the hospital so many years ago, back when she had dreams, bigger than the life she had now: three kids, a husband that invented a procedure used worldwide, a house that won Westchester Magazine's Best Garden fifteen years running.

"Derrick," Scott replied, tone pinched. It was no secret his father disliked him; he was too much like his mother. Not like there was anything wrong with being like his mother.

It could also be the tattoos. The soccer. The way he fought him on everything because he didn't agree with his opinions. His blatant disrespect for the rules laid out for him.

Or it might be his likeness to his mother. It was hard to tell.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Derrick asked.

Scott lost interest in him, dropping his gaze back to what looked like X-ray or CT scan results. Derrick fought the urge to dig his nails into his palms, biting the inside of his cheek. He hated feeling like a guest in his own home, but every time his father was around he felt like an unwanted visitor who'd overstayed his welcome.

It was almost three minutes of silence, and then Scott waved a hand to the chair across from him. He marked something down on a post it, pressed it down on the file. His eyes never once lifted to meet Derrick's again. He said, "What can I do for you," made it feel like it was a nuisance to even be his father, made it less of a question and more of a hindrance.

Derrick swallowed back the noise creeping up his throat. Reminded himself why he was here. Blurted, "Is Danny benched for the rest of the season?"

"All that's left of the season is playoffs," Scott answered. "Why would we bench the star quarterback?"

"Because he sent around a video of Alicia?"

"And why, pray tell," Scott asked, finally deciding to look at his son, "would Danny get punished for that girl's poor choices?"

Derrick's blood went cold, then boiled. For one moment he couldn't form a single word, every one he'd ever learned getting caught in the tangle that was his throat. But he managed "Dad," emphasized and horrified and judgmental.

"He's a good kid," Scott said.

"He's a… he's awful," Derrick shot back. "Do you know- she's not the first girl he's- he sent that video around, he should face some sort of punishment, that's child pornography."

"She should have considered that before she agreed to it," his father replied. His insincerity made Derrick itchy. "He's just a boy, and he's an incredibly good athlete. It would ruin him if we acted on it."

"Like it's not ruining Alicia," Derrick snapped. "You have to see how unfair this is-"

Unfazed, Scott hummed a bit, attention split sixty-forty; he looked at the scans again, but the tightening of the muscles in his forearm indicated he was irritated with Derrick. But what else was new?

"Perhaps she should have thought of that before she got as drunk as she did," he said, and then made a little noise of acknowledgement, which was not directed towards his son but the work.

Derrick blinked. Blinked and repeated what his father just said to him, word for word, in what could only be described as a screech. His throat hurt afterwards, kind of raw, and he swallowed. His head ached.

"I know what I said," Scott replied, brow wrinkled. "Was there any reason for you to yell it back at me?"

"Dad," Derrick replied, "you can't possibly… consent is a real thing-" He was horrified, maybe, but a small part of him wasn't surprised. "Being drunk doesn't mean she deserves to have this happen to her! She doesn't even remember if she agreed to the video being taken."

"She blacked out," Scott said. "How unfortunate. She's not the first to have that happen to her."

There was a chance Derrick was going to die here, a victim to all these awful words. "Yeah, sure, other people have blacked out before," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean Danny should have spread that video around! That's… that's disgusting."

Scott looked up, expression pensive, like maybe for once he was listening to Derrick. "Alicia Rivera, right? That's her name?"

His son nodded.

"You used to be friends with her," Scott recalled, "back in middle school. Spanish."

"We're friends again now," corrected Derrick. It mattered that he knew that. Or it felt like it did. Maybe it didn't.

"She's very pretty. Isn't she the one you all used to talk about? Wanted to know what she looked like and sounded like? You're not even a little bit happy the video leaked?"

A rush of shame crashed over Derrick, guilt and disgust and anger at himself clawing at his skin. He'd thought that for a brief moment, remembered the way her mouth looked around Danny, and then he expelled it because he wasn't the fucking worst. Now his dad, a literal adult with a PhD and a wing of a hospital named after him, had the audacity to think the same thing? Because he was the worst. Derrick knew he was.

"No," he ground out. "I am not happy because it is making my friend cry, it is ruining her life, it got her suspended. Why would I be happy about that?"

Scott shrugged, noncommittal.

"Danny took the video, potentially without her consent, leaked it to everyone, and is getting nothing? Nothing… while Alicia gets suspended until next semester for something that happened to her?"

"There are a lot of potentials in that explanation."

"There's one."

"One is enough," said Scott. "Do you have proof it was even him she was with? Proof that he sent it? There is no reason to destroy his future over potential." He sniffed, flipped a page. "That girl made a bad decision and now she must learn to live with the consequences, as we all do."

"Bench Danny," Derrick snapped. "Do the right thing."

"Don't use that tone with me," Scott returned. The skin of his cheeks pinked, which could mean one of two things. Derrick dug his fingers into his palm, just in case. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeated. "I don't have the authority, and even if I did-"

"Don't have the authority my ass," Derrick interrupted, voice hard, words sharp. "You may not make the final call, but they'll listen to you if you tell them-"

"And I won't. I will not ruin that boy's life over something we don't know he did. Stop presuming to know how the world works, Derrick."

"He did do it!" shouted Derrick. "Of course he did it! Who else would?"

"Anyone," Scott sniped. "If your friend is so willing to do that with Danny, she could do it with anyone else, no questions asked. I know what kind of girl she is."

"And what kind of girl is she, Dad? Huh?"

Scott looked up again, eyes narrowed, jaw tense, and folded his hands in front of him. Derrick could see the similarities between them: the mouth, the cheekbones, the bridge of the nose. He wished he could scrub it all away, pick at it until he resembled his mother more. His mother, who would care about Alicia's predicament. His mother, who would go up to whoever she needed to speak to and tell them they were idiots, and that it takes two to make a sex tape, and if the town and the board and every other old person here were so embarrassed and upset over it, both parties should be punished. Not just the girl.

But Scott was not Candace, and the next words out of his father's mouth were, "You said you're friends, right? How do we not know if this was some elaborate plot by the soccer team to destroy the football team right before both of your championship games?"

The world stopped for a minute. Literally stopped, Derrick was sure of it. He couldn't breathe, blink, think, and his father was a statue before him, a large, despicable statue that, like, represented evil or horror or gloom. Then life went on.

Derrick took a deep breath, felt his heart pounding, saw the gleam in Scott's eyes. He swallowed and that hurt like it did before, and he dug his nails so hard into his skin he thought he felt it break.

"Are you fucking kidding me," he said.

"It's a possibility," Scott replied, aloof again. Derrick bit the inside of his cheek. Blood filled his mouth, metallic. Tangy. "You guys are always about sabotage, if I remember what happened two years ago correctly. Didn't you…"

But Derrick tuned him out, watching his mouth move but not hearing the words as they left him. He remembered the incident he was recalling, knew it painted the boys in a bad light. The football team had been obnoxious that year, and they deserved to be knocked down a peg or two, especially that asshole Andy Ryan, but to imply Alicia's unwanted and totally uncalled for and illegal sex tape was somehow… was… was a way to hurt a sports team

He could do sabotage, alright, but he'd never bring a girl into it.

Okay, he would, but not like this. Dylan and Massie could be ruthless if given enough ammo. Kristen could destroy cities with the right information.

But he didn't need them for this kind of sabotage.

Derrick stood, shoving the chair back so hard and so quick it toppled over behind him. Scott chuckled, amused by his showing of emotion- he hated that, really, but loved to rile Derrick up enough to have him lose it- and made some nasty comment about not being old enough to accept how the world worked or some shit like that. Derrick didn't know, he didn't care, he didn't want to be old enough or man enough or whatever his father was saying if it meant the world did things like this to people he knew and liked and loved and people who didn't deserve it.

"Fuck you," Derrick said. "Go to hell. Rot there. Have a heart attack and die, you sack of shit."

Scott smirked.

He wasn't smirking when Derrick, with a careless but very calculated swipe of his hand, knocked his cup of coffee all over the notes, the scans, and the keyboard of his computer.

"You little-"

"You should have considered that would happen," Derrick shot back. "Learn to live with the consequences."

.

Farrah Fawcett to Kemp's Angels: I need a place to crash
Drew Barrymore: again?
Lucy Liu: for how long?
Farrah Fawcett: The foreseeable future
Cameron Diaz: What'd you do this time
Farrah Fawcett: The what matters little
Kemp Hurley: why does everyone think I'm the overly emotional and violent one in this group when you exist
Cameron Diaz: why are you the only one without a name change here
Kemp Hurley: because you are all my angels

Drew Barrymore changed their name to Cam
Kemp Hurley changed Cam's name to Kristen Stewart

Kristen Stewart: fair