|Some Total Highschool Drama: Reloaded
Author: loveyourbiggestfan PM
AU. Catfights, late nights. Hook-ups no one expected, to hook-ups that were just waiting to happen. Stereotypes, rivalries, a heck of a lot of drama and maybe even a few surprises. No one ever said highschool was going to be easy, did they? Revised.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Romance - Chapters: 9 - Words: 31,650 - Reviews: 36 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 12 - Updated: 07-08-11 - Published: 06-25-09 - id: 5167273
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary: AU. Catfights, late nights, hook-ups no one expected, to hook-ups that were just waiting to happen, stereotypes, rivalries, a heck of a lot of drama and maybe even a few surprises. No one ever said highschool was going to be easy, did they? (Revised from previous STHD).
(Feel free to skip over most of this entire first bit if you are NOT familiar with the original version)
I'll admit it right here. I kind of ... really missed writing STHD.
But it was heading in all the wrong directions. Too many plot holes. I got sick of most of the ideas I was writing about. I came up with some new plot ideas in the middle of all of it, and by then none of them seemed to fit. It was just a few chapters away from done, but I couldn't bring myself to write them. Not like that.
Sooooo, after a few months of thinking this over, I've officially decided to completely revise it. The pack of twenty-two will no longer be spread out in different areas of Canada, but attend the very same highschool. In York. Close to Toronto. And TDI never happened. Neither did the second season. Or the crazy 'Where Are The Losers Now?' scheme Chris had all planned out. But they're still in highschool, and this is their senior year. Some characters won't be completely themselves. Some plots will be the same, and I'll be taking little bits from my other stories. As cliche as this all sounds, I'll try to keep this as original and interesting as I possible can for you guys, alright? :D
The pairings will be Heather/Ezekiel, Geoff/Bridgette, Duncan/Leshawna/Courtney/Harold, Noah/Izzy, Cody/Gwen/Trent, and Cody/Lindsay. But some are subject to change.
Anyway, I guess I'll shut up now and let you guys get to it. ... unless you've already scrolled down.
Hope you all enjoy!
Just so you know in advance: Some POVs have little 'cutscenes' in between scenes. As soon as they're over, it resumes back to the first scene in the respective POV.
Disclaimer: TDI (c) Fresh Animation.
And about the lame title ... I just had to.
It had rained for days.
The local forecast lady claimed day after day it would finally come to an end that weekend. The weekend came. The rain pounded onto the streets harder than it had.
With his eyes fixed miles and miles away, he counted the total number of cracks in his ceiling. He got up to a hundred and seven before it occured to him, that maybe he'd been more of a fool all this time than he'd thought.
"This is a mistake," she'd told him, right there, only several hours before, in the middle of Weston street. Neither of them had brought an umbrella, and neither had really cared. It fit the mood; the grey skies, the drops of saltwater dripping onto their heads. He thought of her long wavy hair, dampened severely by the rain. She'd touched his cheek, but he felt nothing then. He'd simply nodded, then watched as she started the other direction, holding her jacket tight around her chest to keep warm. After about ten minutes, he took the bus home.
There was no way he would fall apart like this for anyone ever again, he decided.
And you still don't have the right look,
And you don't have the right friends,
Nothing changes but the faces,
The names, and the trends
Highschool Never Ends
- Bowling for Soup
Katie (Tuesday, 6:15am; 42 Fairbanks Avenue)
No way. There was no way.
I tucked a stay lock of black hair behind my ear, before hurling forward into the toilet a fourth time.
What could this mean? What was this supposed to mean? I was totally fine up 'til now. No sign of fever, no signs of flu, no nothing. So exactly what was happening to me just now? I threw up another round, then breathed heavily facing the cold linoleum floor. Seriously? The same aching thought struck me again. "No," I murmured, my cheeks flushed and my hands pressed against the black tiles.
With a long sigh, I pushed up to my knees.
My heart racing, I climbed on top of the bathroom counter, my knees hanging on the edge. I stared at the mirror, tugging at my left pigtail. Was I ever going to get rid of it? I'd worn the same look since second grade. And there I was, almost eight years later, tugging at the very same pigtail from way back when. There was a photograph taped onto my mirror that reminded me every day.
I thought of my first day of fifth grade, when I'd felt so sick I hid in the girl's bathrooms until it was time to be picked up. Mom had sent me off without a second thought, said it was just the butterflies. The second I got home, I cried and told her I never wanted to go to school ever again. My teacher had marked me absent for the rest of the week.
I'd grown up so much since then, but I guess highschool had that effect on everyone. A little throwing up here and there would definitely not keep me from being there for the first day of my last year of highschool. I blinked. Ever.
Planning to gaze up towards the clock, I first glanced at my reflection a last time, before freezing up midway.
There, underneath my white cropped tank top, was a baby bump so small, I hadn't noticed it before. But it was there. And growing.
"Hey, I just realized this, but you look alot like my next girlfriend."
- Anonymous Pick-Up Lines, gotta love 'em.
Cody (Tuesday, 8:32am; York High)
They call me the Codemeister.
I think it started in my freshman year, when this one senior a couple lockers down got all angsty after he couldn't work out his combination. Seeing no harm in making my way over and giving the guy a hand, I fiddled with the chain around it, and in no time at all, Locker 27 swung open. His jaw dropped, and he quickly asked me how I just did that. I shrugged, telling him I'd always had some sort of talent with locks.
And I'm guessing word spread, 'coz by the end of third period that day, I had a third of the student body calling me the 'Code Master'. Which eventually, as the days went by, got shortened to 'the Codemeister'. I guess my little stunt then left quite the impression.
The funny thing is though, the-guy-who-couldn't-open-his-own-locker (his name was Carson, as I found out shortly after) opted to stay in touch throughout the rest of that year and after he graduated, even inviting me to a few of his concerts. Which was ironic, because after I'd opened his locker he told me I'd literally saved his life. He had tryouts for some extra curricular music program (he played the trumpet) that day, and some jerk had thrown his song sheets in there and somehow managed to screw up the lock. But anyway. The concerts.
I met the girl of my dreams at the concerts.
I first saw her, arriving late at the first concert of his I attended, finding an empty seat by the back. Everyone else in the room hadn't paid her much attention, ears locked into the music, but one look at her, and I swear, I was mesmerized by something, or rather, someone else. Her hair was dark turquoise with darker streaks, cut to her shoulders, and she had the most beautiful pale skin I had ever seen. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I have some weird fetish for goth girls or anything totally uncalled for like that, but she, she was much different. In ways I couldn't explain to myself just yet. When the person sitting next to me asked me how I liked the concert towards the end, I, still caught in a daze, replied, "She's so ... pretty."
Needless to say, I sounded like a complete idiot. The drool hanging from the corners of my mouth then hadn't made me look any better either.
At the second concert, I found her outside the venue, selling tickets for just five dollars each. It was at that very moment I learned her name was Gwen. It was right there, printed on her nametag. I spent the next five minutes, staring at her nametag, dumbfounded for no particular reason. It wouldn't have been too bad if she hadn't thought I'd been staring at something ... else.
"Can I help you?" she'd snapped, offering a look that could kill. In anyone else's case, at least.
I'd chuckled anxiously, "Y-yeah, actually. One of the musicians performing tonight sort of gave me a free pass in-"
Gwen looked at me funny. "Whatever."
The third time, everyone was assigned seats. I happened to be seated front row. Next to her. I'll be the first to admit it, but my hormones were really kicking in then. Trying to act natural despite the current predicament I was in, I tried to make small talk. Start a conversation, you know. "Sooo, I'm guessing you're not selling tickets this time, huh?" This brought forth a few raised eyebrows.
"Not really, no."
"Oh," I replied, grinning like I was five, "That's great."
She simply rolled her eyes. My smile grew even wider. The thought of being inches away from her drove me crazy! And I'm guessing she had felt the same way, because the first chance she got, she asked the guy next to her if they could switch spots.
At the end of the show, Carson made his way over, and introduced his sister, the lovely goth girl girl sitting just two seats away.
"You two know eachother?" he questioned, his voice kind of weird.
"Oh yeah," she informed, sarcastically, "We're going at it big time."
I walked these halls like I owned a million bucks nowadays.
Slapping high-fives left and right, greeting the ladies ... I wasn't the most popular guy at school per say (please, save that for the jocks) but I was well-liked by a bunch of different people. And it felt good. No, to be honest, it felt amazing.
If only she liked me as much, I couldn't help but think, catching her gaze for a moment from down the corridor. She quickly turned away, grabbing her books and heading to find her first class. I'd spent the last few years playing it 'cool', still not knowing too much about her. But this year is going to be different, I promised myself afterwards, I can almost feel it.
The year was 1995
And I was too young to drive
I felt so stuck on the inside of my life
Woah oh oh
Just living up my life through my tv
With all my favorite shows
Wanted my life to work out so easy
Don't care if anybody knows
But now I'm old enough to drive
No one can keep me inside
Now got the day on my mind
It's my life
- TGIF, The Secret Handshake
Ezekiel (Tuesday, 12pm; the cafeteria)
"... I think my face fell in my chicken no'oodle soup, eh."
We moved that summer. Piled into the 'old Jeep one morning and just drove off. Up to now, I still didn't quite understand what was going through my parents' minds when they decided to move us about three thousand kilometres so far away from home (Edmonton, Alberta) to the suburbs in Toronto. But I figured by the time I figured it out, I'd have already graduated from highschool.
I'd say it took us about three days to get there, breaks thrown into the mix. We'd stay overnight at a 'couple motels when it got too late, and stopped for gas at least twice. The whole ride, when I wasn't catching up on 'the latest' Fresh Prince reruns I'd brought with me, I spent thinking. Or I slept. I even dreamt sometimes, eh. About the farm. About the city. About all the new people I was gonna meet there. The thought of it kind of freaked me out.
But I was going to have to deal with that.
"Yeah, and you might wanna get it out before someone sees and posts it all over the internet."
I jerked up, then quickly scanned the room for anyone that could've been watching. I then noticed my good buddy Harold, casually gnawing at his bologna sandwich. When I first met the guy, he was wearing a Marvin the Martian t-shirt and was wedgied over the school's flagpole. He took note of my toque and the fact I was garbed in a too-small wool jacket in the beginning of September. We became pals right away.
"Good call, eh," I answered, reaching for the paper towel next to me then wiping off my face. "I really hope noo' one saw that just now."
"Well, this is highschool we're talking about," the redhead stated under his breath, a little bit too casually. "Chances are, the whole cafeteria's watching us right now."
"Shouldn't you think this over, you know? Before you decide to go through with this?"
"Last time I checked, I was a teenager."
Heather (Tuesday, 12pm; the cafeteria)
"It's really not that big a deal anymore, Heather," assured Lindsay, blonde without a brain to boot, as she took dainty sips from her chocolate smoothie. "Everyone probably forgot about it by now. Really. It's like, so yesterday's news!"
I failed to see the logic in this. There I was, disguised in an oversized pair of sunglasses, my head held low. To my right on the table in front of me, was a third gallon of Häagen-Daz I'd brought straight from the local convenience store.
She went on. "I mean, just think about it. You were going to dump him anyway! At least now-"
"Any louder, Lindsay?" I scowled, finally having heard enough. "I'm pretty sure the entire student body would like to hear about my tragedy of the week for the fourteenth time now."
Alright. So maybe I was exaggerating. To be honest, I even have a reputation for that. But can you imagine? Me? Heather, top of the food chain? Sporting top of the line designer clothing? And dumped? For the first time, ever? That boy had some sort of nerve, I'm telling you.
So I guess you're wondering what happened. Well, let me give you the recap, since the rest of the world's heard about it anyway. Until yesterday afternoon at 1:43, I was dating that loser Lucas Hodgson. There was an end-of-the-summer bash down at the beach, and what's a party without the most popular girl school? But back to the point. I left him for just a second, and the next thing I knew, he was all over miss Kirsten Barbados. I made my way over, my mouth hung open.
Then right there, in the middle of about a hundred of my peers, he told me:
Lindsay chewed on her lower lip. "I didn't mean-"
"Yeah, don't worry about it," I looked away, feeling very out of character. "I really shouldn't have overreacted like I always do ..." From ten tables down, I heard a plop.
She raised an eyebrow, then blinked a few times. "Have someone in mind?"
"Possibly," I smirked, "I'll make sure Lucas will eat his stupid heart out."
"You're kidding, right?" The blonde gasped, gazing over to where my eyes focused on. "I'm not sure about this one. He's not that ... oh, please don't tell me you have your whole payback planned out already. And you can't seriously be going through with this-"
"Watch me." From the corner of my eye, I did my best to remember the freak with his face dipped in Today's Special of chicken noodle soup.
Anyone who claims he can see right through a woman is missing a lot.
- Groucho Marx
Duncan (Tuesday, 2:30pm; off campus)
"I call her Princess," I chuckled, retelling my first day's events to Leshawna, "And she probably hates my guts."
She didn't laugh. "Hm, 's that so?"
I didn't say anything, knowing she'd come around eventually. It was a thirty minute walk back to our neighbourhood, and I had a damn good feeling she wouldn't keep her mouth shut for that long. After just over a minute, she started blabbing at my face like she usually did.
"So what's the girl's real name? What's she like?" After a brief pause, she added, "Besides the fact she hates your guts, 'coz you tell me that about all the girls you like.
" ... oh come on," she went on, but that wasn't anything new, "We've been tight for years, and now you're not gonna tell me 'bout your latest lady?"
Good 'ol Leshawna. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say she's mine just yet," I informed. "But she digs me. Those goody two-shoes just can't get their hands off bad boys like me ..."
I met Leshawna when I was five.
It was mid-July, and I was out in the frontyard making fun of whoever walked by, little badass I was. Her family was moving into the house next door, and the first time I saw her, she was wearing a poofy yellow dress. Needless to say, I made my way over and said a few not-so-nice things.
"Should've known city boys were nothin' but trouble," she groaned.
"Pfft, and where are you from, the ghetto?"
She rolled her eyes. "Shut it, white boy."
... "Huh. She got a pole sticking up her behind or somethin'?"
With a smirk, I enlightened this fact, "Probably."
You seem too good, too good to be true
- Tug of War, Carly Rae Jepsen
Gwen (Tuesday, 10pm; Cloud Nine)
I decided to spent my Tuesday night sitting alone in my room, scribbling furiously onto a piece of paper. School today had been tolerable at best, if even tolerable. Let's just say, at that time, I wasn't very optimistic. I needed Cody Anderson, out of my face. I wouldn't tell him straight up, but I was hoping he'd take a hint eventually. ... oh, but who was I kidding? The guy's probably in love with me for all the wrong reasons, and I didn't even get why. I wasn't the most hideous teenager in the world per say, but funny he'd choose me over ... well, take a guess.
After ten minutes, I stomped downstairs and grabbed my purse.
"Where do you think you're going?" questioned my mother, stopping me as I reached for the door.
"Out." And I slammed the door before she could ask me anything else.
Halfway down the sidewalk, I realized I had no idea where I was going.
I paused, feeling an evening breeze passing through. I should have brought a sweater, I couldn't help but think. Still, it was too late to turn back now. I wouldn't let myself live this down if I turned back less than half an hour into it. So I kept walking. In a kind of embarrassing T-shirt. A little past my curfew on weeknights. Without my cell-phone. Sounds easy, right?
The streets were nearly bare, but at least the city was well lit. I took occasional glances left and right, looking for anything of interest. This one time I accidentally ran into a couple who wasn't too thrilled with me.
"Do you mind?" I looked up, noticing the tall man with his arm around some redhead. They went on past me before I got to have my say.
"Whatever," I muttered under my breath, coming towards an intersection.
That's when I heard it. The music.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought of it overwhelmed me, forcing a headful of memories back where I would remember them. I remembered those days hearing my brother practise his trumpet for hours from my room, ever since I was little. I remember attending all of his concerts, though I never got the chance to tell him how much I appreciated them. He stopped playing a little over a few months ago. Told me he'd had it. Said he would never pick up another instrument for as long as he lived. I never quite understood that.
A sense of adrenaline, and without a second thought, I went after it. And the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the Catfish Cafe.
I burst into the room, coming face to face with a certain green-eyed guitarist.
Can't wait to here what you guys think.
But besides the point ... as a lot of you probably heard, we lost so much today. Here's to the King of Pop himself, hope he's still rocking it out there in Heaven.
Michael Jackson, 1958 - 2009 .