Oh how I love HSM-basing. ;)

Oh, the Sweetness of Escape

“Octavian High is way to clique-ish,” Jason Lafferty stuffed his math book inside his locker and slammed the door shut. “Don’t you wish we could break out into a song in the cafeteria and unite?”

“Only if you audition for next month’s musical and Claire Lyons sings with you.” Massie rolled her amber eyes, which as usual were hidden behind dark shades. “Not going to happen.”

“A guy can dream, can’t he?” Jason brought his hand to his chest, mock hurt. “But seriously, there’s no unity here. Everyone’s in their own crowd. I wonder what crowd we’re in?”

“We’re… in our own crowd. You and me, Jase and Mass, inseparable!” Massie grinned. Her face turned serious. “Why do you want to fit in so much?”

“I don’t want to fit in, Mass. I just want our school to stop acting all movie-ish.” The dark-haired boy raised his voice. “We need to band together!”

The students in the hallway stopped what they were doing, i.e., talking, laughing, making out, and turned to stare at him. Massie frantically lowered her beret over her eyes, hiding her face. “Jason! Shut it!” she hissed, widening her eyes at him. But of course, he couldn’t see them.

Jason sighed. “Mass, Mass, Mass. When will you learn to stop caring what other people think of you?”

“When you stop yelling in the middle of the hall,” Massie shot back and adjusted her sunglasses and straightened her beret.

“Since when do you wear hats?

“Since when do you care?”

“Since you look like a hung-over Olesya Rulin. Seriously, lose the hat.”

“Seriously?” Massie frowned, patting the top of her plaid beret, which didn’t really go with her striped shirt and black cargo pants.

“Yeah,” Jason replied firmly. “When have I ever lead you wrong?”

Well, Jason did have a point. He had better dress sense than her, anyway. And he was a guy. If not for the fact that he had an undying love and burning passion for Claire Lyons, Massie would have seriously questioned his sexuality. “Fine,” Massie gave a long suffering sigh. “But if I have hat hair, you are so dead to me.”

“Ah, quoting the wonderful Claire Lyons, I see.” Jason nodded knowingly.

Massie’s cheeks burned red as a beetroot. “Am not. It’s just a figure of speech. She doesn’t own that line, you know.”

Jason rolled his gray eyes. “Whatever, Mass.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his sneakers. Massie frowned at Jason's sudden mood swing, and looked up to see the cause of it.

Oh.

"LBR, twelve o'clock." Claire Lyons smirked, flipping her glossy gold locks over her shoulder. Red-faced, Massie passed them silently staring at her polka dot sneakers, biting her lower lip to stop herself from strangling Claire and her so-called "Pretty Committee. What in the world possessed her to name her cronies that, anyway?

As soon as they were clear of the Snob Squad, Jason sighed wistfully and leaned against the white-washed wall. “Why am I invisible to her?”

“’Cause you’re not HART material, remember?” Massie muttered, rolling her eyes. She uncertainly pulled off her hat and let her shoulder-length dark hair to tumble down her shoulders. She sighed, aggravated, when her sunglasses slipped down her nose. They were a bother, but at least they stopped people from staring at her ‘weird’ eyes. The last thing she needed was for Clair Lyons and her clones to throw bitchy comments about her orangey eyes. Her father had said they were unique. Yeah, right.

“I’ve got heart!” Jason exclaimed indignantly. “I’m the heartiest-hearty guy there is!”

“Not heart as in the beating thinger in your chest, but HART as in hawt, alpha, rich and toned,” Massie explained. “But don’t mind them. I like you just the way you are. Claire Lyons is just shallow.”

Jason shrugged, not convinced. Massie changed the subject. “So what was the ‘awesome surprise you were talking about over the phone this morning?”

Jason’s features lit up. “Oh, yeah, that!” He slid his backpack off his shoulder and rummaged through it urgently.

Massie waited patiently. She was used to Jason's over-the-top dramatic antics. He was the Drama King of the school, after all. Jason slowly pulled his hand out of his bag, obviously to add some drama, but Massie didn’t even bat an eyelid.

With a flick of his hand, Jason revealed two slightly crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. Massie’s eyebrows crinkled together in confusion.

“Guess who scored two tickets to this Saturday’s Red Sox game?” Jason gloated excitedly.

“No way! How’d you get these?” Massie made a move to grab them from his hand, but her friend held them higher in the air.

“I told you, I have connections,” Jason smirked. His smile quickly faded when a someone shouldered him and sent him slamming against the wall.

“What you got there? Selling tickets for your Drama Ball?” Massie groaned inwardly. She knew that voice. She despised that voice. She turned around to glare at a taunting Derek Herrington, star goalie of the Briarwood Tomahawks.

“We don’t have balls,” Jason said in a dignified voice. Derek’s soccer-mates, Cam Fisher, Josh Hotz, Kemp Hurley and Chris Plovert guffawed and punched each other’s arms. Jason reddened when he realized what he just said, while Massie clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to contain her anger.

“You know, I’m confused,” Kemp put on a quizzical face, which didn’t suit him at all. He looked rather like a constipated monkey, in Massie’s view. “As to why you’re playing this,” he threw a disdainful glance in Massie’s direction, “girl when you’re a… what’s the word, guys?”

“A fag?” Claire Lyons suddenly appeared behind Cam Fisher, intertwining her arm with his.

“Exactomundo!” Kemp exclaimed, grinning. “100 points awarded to the lovely Claire Lyons!”

"Thank you, thank you very much," Claire smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Leave him alone,” Massie snapped.

“Aww, she even fights for you!” Claire cooed. “You guys totally belong together, Justin.”

“It’s Jason,” Massie’s companion mumbled.

“You know what, Jason? Let’s get out of here. They’re not worth our time.” Massie threw them a murderous glance and grabbed Jason’s hand, dragging him away.

“Thanks, Mass.” Jason muttered. Massie gripped his hand tighter. “That’s what friends are for. Let’s forget about those retards. I can’t believe you scored tickets fort he game!”

Jason managed a smile. “Just proves my awesomeness,” he said smugly.

"Whatever." Massie rolled her eyes, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose again. “I can’t wait for Saturday. Dad is sure to let us go.”

“What do you mean we can’t go?” Massie cried, her mouth dropping open. Jason stopped chewing on his banana and his mouth fell open as well, which was not a pretty sight.

“I meant, you. Can. Not. Go.” Her father hurried around the room, throwing more shirts and trousers into the open suitcase on his bed. “Don’t you have a house-warming party you kids have to go to?”

“Come on, Mr Block. It’s the Fisher’s third house-warming party this month. We’ve practically memorized every inch of the over-sized, over-expensive house,” Jason tried to state his case.

“Yeah, but not the new part of the house.” William frowned and held a silver-and-blue tie to his face, and a purple one next to it.

“Go for the blue, Dad.” Massie sighed. “But Dad, Jason worked really hard to get these tickets! They’re season tickets!” she added for good measure.

“Yes, I’m sure he did, but you were invited. And Blocks will accept invitations graciously.” William scratched his head, wondering what he had left out. “Tell you what: I’ll take you two to see the Yankees next month, if I’m not busy.”

Massie crossed her arms defiantly, pouting. “It’s not the same. Besides, we hate the Yankees, right, Jason?”

Jason nodded vigorously, hurriedly chewing his banana. “Yeah. Go Brew—I mean, Red Sox!” he cowered when Massie turned to him, fire burning in her eyes.

“Kids, I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” William glanced at his wristwatch, clearly agitated. “My taxi’s arriving any minute.”

“Dad, I’m not a kid anymore, I’m sixteen! And the Fisher’s parties always su... I mean, they’re incredibly boring.”

“Massie, the discussion is over. You’re going to the Fisher’s. End of story.” A car horn tooted outside, and William’s hands flew up to his head. “God, the driver’s here.” He grabbed his suitcase, hopping on one foot while he tied the laces to one of his Italian dress shoes. He kissed the top of Massie’s head as he rushed out of the room, and punched knuckles with Jason. Massie and Jason followed William as he tumbled down the stairs two at a time, mumbling instructions and straightening the pile of folders in his arms. Massie was still scowling when she opened the front door for him.

“See you kids next week!” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the cab. “You kids be good! And make sure you go to that party!”

“Yeah, whatever Dad.” Massie waved weakly at her father. She slammed the front door shut and turned to Jason, who was just as unhappy as she was. “It’s official. This party is going to suck.”

“You’ve got that right. We don’t even have anything to wear.” Jason frowned, while Massie threw her hands up in exasperation.