smarty0114

CANCELLED.

---

---

_{Location: The Callaghan House
Jamie Callaghan & Katie Callaghan}

---

The Callaghan household was rarely quiet, a fact that Jamie had become used to in his seventeen years of living there. Even with his door shut, the shrieks of the twins managed to penetrate through the walls, as they sprinted through the house, bringing with them whatever havoc it was that they had that day. The rest of his family was home as well, his mom having just wrapped up the filming for her next movie, meaning she had spare time before she had to go on a promotional tour. His dad was with her, in the kitchen, having gotten off of work early that day. As for Jamie and Katie, well they were laying on Jamie’s bed, splitting a bucket of Red Vines and watching reruns of the Coalition, doing their best to avoid the chaos of the family gathering that was running rampant outside.

Suddenly, Katie paused the episode, and turned to Jamie, eyes aflame with curiosity. Jamie had a bad feeling. ”So, you and Riley Wells, huh?” Katie said, a smirk creeping up her face. Jamie rolled his eyes. ”You are a nosy brat,” he said, reaching for another Red Vine. Katie quickly slapped his hand away. ”No more Red Vines until you tell me what’s up,” she decreed, putting the tub behind her back and sitting up so as to better defend her treasure.

Jamie sighed and shook his head, rolling over so that he was staring up at his ceiling. ”Do I have to?” he whined, causing Katie to fix him with one of her famous stares, a gift she’d gotten from their mother. ”Fine. First off, me and Riley are not a thing,” Jamie said adamantly. Katie laughed. ”No shit Sherlock. Riley’s not your type at all,” Katie said, taking a bite out of a Red Vine. ”I’ve dated one dude, how the fuck do I have a type?” ”Have you seen AJ? Have you seen Marshall? They’re like, the mayors of Twinktown. Riley’s too edgy for you,” Katie said, earning a faux look of offense from Jamie.

Rolling his eyes and trying his best not to laugh at Katie’s completely accurate comment, he launched into the complex story of him and Riley. ”All that happened is me and Riley talked at Damian’s party, and now everyone assumes that we have some sort of thing or some bull shit like that, but that’s stupid because he and Marshall are together, but I can’t tell anyone that because Riley’s not out and I can’t just go around outing people, let’s be real, it’s like the golden rule of being gay,” he said, stopping only to catch his breath.

Katie pursed her lips and thought for a moment. ”Wait, but aren’t you and Marshall a thing?” she asked. ”Nope, definitely not. I mean...well...look, I would’ve liked that, but he’s apparently in some secret tryst with Riley, and I’m not a homewrecker,” he said, sighing. ”So, I’m stuck. Oh, and, get this, Trixie wants me to solve the mystery of her and Owen’s breakup!” he continued, causing Katie to raise her brows. ”Wait, so what are you gonna do?” she inquired. Jamie gestured for a Red Vine, and Katie granted his request, returning the tub to the area between them.

”I’m gonna do what I normally do. Ask around. I’m gonna find Owen on Wednesday and talk to him, and then go from there. Which sucks because I hate Owen,” Jamie explained, sighing and taking a bite of the licorice in his hand. Katie shrugged. ”Hey, maybe you can get Marshall if you start off talking about how you look just like the guy who plays Nox,” Katie said, gesturing to the laptop screen with the Coalition on it. Jamie scowled and rolled his eyes. ”Shut up, we look nothing alike!”

CANCELLED.

---

---

_{Location: The Airport -> Helmsley Estate
Interacting With: | Boy Toy @Universorum |}

Becca thanked God every time she flew that she didn’t have to fly coach. There were certain things in life that you really can’t take for granted, lest Karma decide that they’ve had it with you, and send you straight to rock bottom. A private jet was one of those things. From what Becca had seen on TV, coach was a hellscape specifically designed to torture the good citizens of America. She would have none of it. And so, Becca’s return to California was in the Helmsley’s private jet, a palace in the sky, a home away from home for Becca. But now, she was ready to return to her actual home.

Becca had been in Sweden for some time now with her family, and as beautiful as the Swedish countryside was, she had grown bored. So, she’d decided to return home. From what she’d read on the Weekend Warrior, she was needed. Her boys had gone and got themselves into a veritable orgy of shit. I leave Henry alone for not even two months, and he gets himself accused of rape. Can’t go anywhere, Becca thought, scowling at the situation.

Long legs carried Becca across the tarmac and into a limo, where her personal assistant, James, was seated. ”Ms. Helmsley, a pleasure to see you again. How was your trip?” James asked, his eyes finding hers in the rearview mirror. Becca grinned. ”It was wonderful James. Uneventful though, I’m excited to be home. Thank you again for sending me that article, it’s nice to know that someone around here knows how to communicate,” Becca replied, rolling her eyes as she thought of Henry and his apparent inability to text her to say, “Hey, I’m being accused of rape!”

Obviously, the party had gone to shit. Becca was aware of that much from Snapchat the night of, but the WW’s article had really made a shit situation, shittier. Shit. The boys had had one job, one job. Keep Hailey and her Bitch Brigade out. And what did they do? Let ‘em in the front fucking door apparently. She sighed and shook her head. Boys

James pulled the limo up to the front door of the Helmsley’s massive estate, a palace of epic proportion, before coming around and helping Becca out. She smiled her thanks before strutting inside, breathing in the fresh smell that reminded her of home. Her room was as she’d left it, clean and orderly, her bed freshly made and her desk cleaned off. She was content.

Of course, the orderly nature of her room could not keep her distracted for too long. She’d been in Sweden for far too long, and a family vacation meant that her sexual adventures had been curtailed for far too long. In other words, Becca needed to get laid. And she needed to know what the hell was going on. So, she found the person who could do both.

To: Boy Toy
You up?

CANCELLED.

_{Location: Burntown
Interacting With: | Stephen Rhett - NPC | Hana Park - Mentioned, @Fabricant451 |}

---

For any and all outcasts of BHHS, the skatepark was the place to be. Burntown, is what they called it. It was where you went when you needed to buy drugs, where you went if you wanted to smoke without anyone snitching, a safe haven for all those who didn’t bow down before Hailey Green and her court. This was the rebellion. And oh was it glorious.

Burntown might have been the sleaziest place in the Hills, not that that said much of anything. The place was littered with cigarette butts and half smoked joints, scuffed by hundreds of different wheels. Kids were everywhere, skating, walking, smoking. The air reeked of weed, sweat, and cigarettes. Some alt-rock was blasting from someone’s speaker, The Gritz, doing a shitty cover of some song that came out years ago. And yet, everyone there was happy. Quincy had thought for a while now that the preps could learn a lot from the people they looked down on, if they only pulled their heads out of their asses.

Quincy strolled through the park, for the first time in a while, alone. Normally when she came here she was flanked by A Double or Wyatt, or Raf and Rose, but today, she’d decided to come alone. The rag tag group of outcasts all turned to look at her, but soon returned to their skating or smoking. Q was royalty at Burntown, but not everyone trusted her. Just because she’d been A Double’s right hand, and now his girlfriend, didn’t change the fact that she’d been a prep, one of Hailey’s little minions. Not everyone was as accepting as A Double.

Quincy finally made her stop in front of a group of greasy looking guys, freshmen and sophomores mainly. She tapped one on the back, a short, mousy looking kid, wearing a beanie over his shaggy hair. Stephen Rhett. Quincy dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a little bag of white powder, and held it out for the kid. ”Here kid, weekly delivery,” she said, her tone cold. Dealing drugs was her job, not a hobby. She wasn’t fond of it, but she did it anyways. The kid looked up at her and shook his head. ”Uh, didn’t you get my text? I don’t need it, I bought from someone else.”

Well this was news. There were other drug dealers at school, Quincy wasn’t stupid enough to believe otherwise, but Stephen was a regular with her, as were most of the frequenters of Burntown. She gave a good price, but also, she was from the inside. That meant something to these people. Or at least it used to. Quincy stayed silent for a moment before opening her mouth, taking a second to hold in her rage. ”Who? Who was worth leaving me behind?” Quincy asked. If regulars started leaving and she didn’t do anything, her business would be shot. She quite liked the income her business brought in, so this wouldn’t fly. ”Hana Park. Dude, she was the go to at the Elite’s party, and her shit was good. Sorry Q, but I’ve outgrown your kid shit.”

Quincy scowled and shoved Stephen, earning an uproar from his friends. ”Fucking disloyal little prick! You want the Pizza Man’s shit so bad go and get it! Just don’t forget to pay me back for what I floated you last week, asshole!” Quincy said, storming off. ”I don’t owe you jack shit, you prep bitch!”

Quincy froze, before slowly turning around. Her face was expressionless as she sorted through what he’d just said. ”Who the fuck do you think you are you little dweeb?!” Q shouted, stalking back over to Stephen, staring him down. Stephen, to his credit, held his ground. ”Come on Quincy. Or should I say, Jennifer? We all know you only hang out with us because you fucked up your coup against Hailey. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even look at most of us! You might have A Double fooled, but there’s still some of us who remember what you are,” Stephen said, malice dripping off of his words. Q stood there for a second, before her fist shot out, connecting perfectly with the sophomore’s face. ”Go fuck yourself.” Quincy stormed back out of Burntown, her ego bruised, her wallet light, and her temper flaring. Just when you think everything is going great…

CANCELLED.

_{After school, before the start of the School Newspaper Club
Collab with @Lovely Complex
Jamie & Trixie}

---

---

Jamie had been mulling over Trixie’s words all day long, trying to figure out how to deal with the situation with Riley, but also the job she had waiting for him. He’d concluded that the rumors about him and Riley would naturally fizzle out, as rumors generally did. In all honesty, most rumors only held power if there was someone with credibility sponsoring them, and seeing as how he couldn’t seem to find anyone who was, he decided not to stress too much. That problem could be moved to the back burner for now.

Now all that was left for Jamie to deal with was the matter of Trixie’s oh so important job, and perhaps explaining away the Riley drama, if she still had her talons in that one. Once the bell rang signalling the end of the school day, Jamie made a beeline for the newspaper room, stopping to shove some books in his locker before marching over to see Trixie.

The newspaper room smelled like ink and stress, an aroma that Jamie had become used to over the years. Truly, it was an almost comforting smell. High school was a war zone, especially BHHS, but for Jamie, the newspaper room was his realm of control, where he was mostly safe. This was home base.

When he walked in, Trixie was setting up for the meeting at her desk. They had another fifteen minutes before people would actually show up. Just enough time for a chat. ”Trixie, my favorite editor in chief. What’s this secret job you need my help with,” he asked, setting his bag down at his desk.

For the time being, Trixie’s mind was not thinking about what she wanted Jamie to help her with. Her eyes didn’t look away from her papers, one was a printout of the Weekend Warrior post. Moments before Jamie made his entrance, she had talked to their teacher supervisor, the one that essentially was responsible for the School Newspaper Club, but really, at BHHS the students were given full reigns. They simply needed a teacher’s signature on the club application, along with five students joining, before submitting it to student council. Their teacher was Ms. Miley Aspen (sister to that famous voice actor, Rhett Aspen, and dance choreographer, Summer Snyder), who taught AP English Literature, AP English Language, and Journalism, as an elective.

Essentially, Ms. Aspen was not happy about the WW post, slandering students, particularly Damian and Henry. She was never a fan of this gossip blog - and neither was Trixie. Trixie almost lost her position when she destroyed Owen’s reputation on the Black and Orange, but instead, due to favoritism, Trixie simply had a weeks detention and some community service to do. “Everyday, we lose credibility, Jamie. It’s hard to keep the written word alive when you have this stupid blog.”

Like she’s done plenty times before, Trixie color coded the paper with highlighters of every possible color someone could think of. No one besides her really knew what the colors meant, but they were her way of analyzing whatever she was reading. To say she was frustrated was an understatement. She had been so caught up with her own emotions and personal issues that she was neglecting the newspaper, so the last issue was complete garbage. Weak, with stories nobody cared about. “We need exposure and…” Finally, she looked up from her papers and tapped the pink highlighter in her hand, all the while locking eyes with her personal favorite club member, though she would never say that outloud, “We need to take down our competition.”

Jamie nodded and crossed his arms, slowly bridging the gap between the two journalists and taking the paper from her hands. ”You’re right. One small problem with our competition: we have no clue who they are. The Warrior’s been pretty great about keeping their identity a secret, trust me I’ve tried. Whoever it is does a very good job of keeping their identity secret. All that I can get from the blog is that they’re someone who was at the party, and someone who’s got beef with us and the Elite. Which does just about nothing to narrow it down,” Jamie said. Say what you will about Trixie, Jamie respected her. She played a good game, and she was wicked smart. When they worked together, they worked well. It would suck to take her down.

“Beef with us, or just the whole school in general? Like what we are.” Putting her highlighter down, Trixie grabbed the sheet back, rather feistily, stood up, and read lines out loud, “Welcome back all you loyal lovers of honesty, integrity, and the unbiased source of all things excess and depravity...”

She paused and shook her head, grumbling, “Whoever, or whomever, does write this is one hell of a good writer. They use words like that to make their audience think their agenda is good. A political statement. Telling us the truth and nothing but the truth, but really?” This was the most biased piece of shit she’s ever read. She cleared her throat and continued, skipping a line or two, “...so when word got out that no one’s favorite group of trust fundees, drama queens, and spoiled silver spooners… words, words, words... you are nothing more than a pawn in some stupid game of chess put on by those who put themselves at the top….etc, etc.”

Sitting on a desk near Jamie’s seat, she rolled her eyes and grimaced, “It’s obvious these people have a personal vendetta against ‘us’. The majority. Just because most of their popular articles are about us, who are known names at this school, doesn't mean they solely care about ‘Damian’ or ‘Henry’ or ‘Hails’. It’s funny though.” Trixie smiled to herself, placing the paper to her side, “They’re not helping their cause. If anything, they just made Hailey’s day. It’s pretty interesting how paparazzi and celebrity media works out like that. Good or bad rep, these people stay in the limelight. All this did was add fire to the fuel. No solution, just more problems.” Trixie’s words were not that of the T in HOT. Her eyes were genuine and everything she said, was like freshmen year all over again, when she didn’t care about popularity, when she actually cared about taking care of the school, taking care of herself, following the beat to her own drum, “If only the writers knew the people they slandered.” and in a quiet whisper, Trixie spoke to herself, _{“They’re helping the wrong team.”}

Jamie nodded, chewing on his lip as he pondered Trixie’s words. What could they do about the Warrior? ”So then maybe the whole school has beef with them. Which means that if we can figure out who it is, we can get the school to take them down for us, just with a simple leak. The problem is, where do we start?” Jamie didn’t love the idea of going after the Warrior. Sure, he wanted them gone, but he’d seen the power they had. One wrong move and he could end up on the wrong side of their blog. He didn’t envy that position.

“I could say let’s ask questions, but that could get us noticed… and without any leads, we’d be asking the whole damn school. A waste of time. What we could do though, is give them a story they can’t resist. But we’ll discuss this off school grounds. Another time, another date.” Hopping off of the desk, she turned on her heel and gave him her oh so inviting smile, “Which reminds me. What I actually want to tell you. But first, I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone else. Not Hailey. Not Ophelia. Not Marshall.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. ”And why, would I tell Marshall?” the blonde asked, clearly fishing to see what Trixie knew. How could she have figured anything out from just their interactions this morning? Were they that obvious? He wanted to believe otherwise, but that meant rumors were flying, rumors about him and Marshall. That wouldn’t do.

“Why are you getting so defensive?” Trixie raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “We both know he has a big mouth, but also with the matter I want to address, he wouldn’t be keen on it. And you two seem close so I just assumed he was someone you’d go to. For advice or whatever.” Shrugging to herself, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, “Unless there is something more?” Did she trigger him by saying her candy boy’s name? Or was he just grumpy today?

Jamie sighed. Did he trust Trixie? Hardly. But, he needed her to trust him. And he knew very well that she needed him for the time being. So maybe, this was one person he could spill things to. ”Me and Marshall...look I had a thing for Marshall but he...has other boys in mind I guess. It’s nothing though, what’s this top secret mission?” Jamie said, making sure to keep the attention from sticking to him and his story. He’d trusted her with the minor details, hopefully nothing that could bite him in the ass.

Pouting at his reveal, Trixie stood silent and softened her demeanor. Marshall was around her a lot. Who was he into that was more than himself? If there was one thing she knew of Marsh, that boy had super high standards. Fantastical and unrealistic. He needed someone to bring him down to Earth. Either way, it was time for her to get straight to business. It was only fair. He told her something personal. Now it was her turn. “The past couple of days I’ve done a lot of thinking.” Gesturing for him to follow her, she went to her desk and grabbed a manila envelope, handing it to him, “I need closure, Jamie.” It took her a couple of months to admit her weakness, but here she was, ready to face her reality.

The sun may have been streaming in and everything around them besides the white paper and the black ink were of a warm color palette, but her mind was clouded with grey. Her facial expression saddened at every moment she kept thinking about him, “In the envelope are the pictures that caused me to… act out. Along with a letter, from me, that I’d like you to read later. I need answers. I need to know more. I need the truth. I honestly have no one to turn to and I’m tired of… crying? I think the only way I can move on is if I know more, even if I have no doubt it’s going to hurt like a bitch. But the people involved, I can’t ask them the questions I want. Everyone would say I’m stupid. Why do I still care about a guy that fucked this blonde chick? I first was curious about why. Why her? Was I not good enough? Who is she? But then I realized, I don’t care who the girl is. I care about why everything happened so suddenly. He isn’t only to blame. I shouldn’t have reacted like I did.”

Pausing to catch her breath, she locked her gaze with her friend’s, “I know him, Jamie. And now that all the blood rage is gone, I can’t help but think something isn’t right. I guess, I’m asking you to help me find out more… I’d say Ophelia and Owen would be your two best bets. I don’t know what else to do and I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’m actually scared. More than anyone can imagine.” If this bit her in the ass, she deserved it. She was tired of this game. She just wanted to be happy.

Jamie was surprised by the magnitude of this job. Finding out what went wrong with one of the major couples at BHHS? Now that would take some major sleuthing. ”I’ll look into it Trix. I can’t promise how soon, but I’ll do my best,” Jamie assured his friend/rival. His voice had taken on a softness that was rarely seen by those at school. He felt bad for what happened to Trixie, no one deserved that. He couldn’t necessarily just go talk to Owen and Ophelia and ask them if they’d like to share anything about the breakup, but he might be able to glean some info from Sel. Or Marshall. Fuck. Marshall would’ve been helpful here. He’d just have to make do.

“You’re a good friend, Jamie.” Trixie, although she was known for having a natural ‘bitch face’, had a smile that transformed her spiked shield that came across as near menacing into a welcoming opened door that led to a secret garden. How she went about things were odd, mysterious even, but everything she did had complete intention.

Her body perked when she heard students approaching. Turning away, she strolled toward the board. Even so, she wasn’t done yet. Suddenly, she swiftly pivoted back to face her friend once more, to give him a preview of what’s to come and something to mull over, “Oh and one last thing. I’m well aware this private project of yours is massive, but…” She paused as the left side of her plump lips tugged upwards, creating a challenging, yet impish, smirk. “It would be one hell of a story depending on what you uncover. Using yours truly as a primary source.”

And then the bad news came.

“We need to make one of our issues before graduation BIG or the newspaper club will be forced to shut down. Ms. Aspen is having a hard time convincing the principal that printed journalism isn’t a dying career pursuit, since now there’s sites that host blogs like ‘The Weekend Warrior’. Regardless of its lack of credibility, it still gains way more attraction than our paper.”

She laughed at such arrogance, “Thank you, internet. There’s a reason I’ve been doing more work with Riley’s club. It’s my backup plan to move school news to tv… Riley’s show is more comedy than anything.” And that would be a bitch to turn ‘serious’, since news wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies. The latina shook her head in annoyance. It was obvious she preferred ink and paper.

“Of course, I’m not going to tell anyone that, for the sake of morale, but I will be setting a competition this semester.” She sighed.

“Along with doing your usual duties for each month’s issues, you all will be tasked on making a front page story for our final paper. HOWEVER, if you guys uncover your story sooner, the better off we’ll be. We can debut the story in that month’s issue and I can talk to the higher ups, having physical proof on why the paper should stay alive. I don’t believe in using Hailey’s help, or the power of our parents’ finances. This club means a lot to me and I don’t want to take the easy way out, because it would diminish what we’ve built and what journalism truly stands for.” Though, she’d always have that one regret. A regret with a name: The Cowardly Lyon.

Nodding to herself, she turned back to the board and started writing a question in cursive: What kind of stories make the front page? Stopping at the last s in ‘stories’, she told Jamie one final thing before club members would start piling in, “If you win, Jamie. I will forfeit my position and give you everything.”

Jamie smirked and cocked his head. ”I’ll give you one thing Trix. You sure know how to give a guy incentive.”

CANCELLED.

Location: Uncle Jack's -> School -> The Bleachers
Interacting with: No one

---

---

A few days earlier...

Connor had been in California for a whole two hours, and he officially hated it. First, his plane got stuck on the tarmac while they waited to get off at the gate, the beginning to a shitty day. Soon after that, Connor was forced to go toe to toe with a TSA agent, who seemed unable to locate his suitcase. It was a one of a kind, Louis Vuitton suitcase, beautifully embroidered, a gift from his mother, and these dumb asses had gone and lost it. After a heated argument and one too many threats to call someone much more important, they found Connor's bag. In Colorado.

Luckily, the limo picked him up without a hitch, and once he'd taken his seat he quickly opened up the mini fridge that rested inside, hoping for something to drink. To his chagrin, his Uncle Jack had made sure the vehicle was completely dry. I'm going to die out here, Connor thought, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, blocking out the chaos of his life for a few moments.

After a rather lengthy drive, filled with stop and go traffic and way too much sun, Connor was dropped off in front of his uncle's large estate. Jackson Prince was an environmental lawyer, one who'd worked closely with rather wealthy benefactors, such as the Greens and the Helmsleys. He was loaded, not that Connor wasn't used to big money. He'd grown up around the political elite, money wasn't foreign to him at all. Hell, he came from money himself. Connor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, before strolling up to the front door and rapping firmly against the wood door.

Connor hadn't seen his uncle in many years, a family feud had kept his father from speaking to him for a good ten years, right up until last May. As Connor remembered him, he was a well put together young man, clean shaven and charming. The man who opened the door looked quite different. Clad in a silk bath robe, a stained t-shirt and boxers, Jackson Prince was a sight. His beard was scruffy, and flecked with pieces of food, and his hair was receding fast. He looked fed up with the world as a whole. "Huh. Didn't think you'd actually show up," Jack said, turning around and retreating into his home, but leaving the door wide open, an implied invitation for Connor to follow.

Connor stepped into the threshold of the home, and looked around. It wasn't a total mess, in fact, it was almost nice. Marble floors and abstract statues, picturesque curtains and floral print rugs made the home look elegant, a stark contrast to the appearance of it's owner. "Alright kid. Your room is upstairs, down the right hall, last door on the left. Your dad has told me that you aren't allowed to have girls up there, so no girls. While you're here, you're sober. You wanna get trashed, find somewhere else to live. Got it?" Jack explained, his voice gruff and off putting. Connor nodded. "Hey man, you stay outta my way, I'll stay outta yours," he said, heading for the stairs. As he passed Jack, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't fuck around Connor. Your parents might be easy to fool, but that's only cause they haven't ever looked at the bottle in a way that might offend the public eye. But me, I know every trick in the book," Jack said. Connor pulled away, glaring at Jack before heading up to his room to unpack. This is gonna be great.

Present Day, after school

High school sucked. Connor was sure of that and only that. He'd skipped most of his classes today, including homeroom, and was now seated on the bleachers,taking a drag off of a cigarette and watching the tryouts that were about to take place below. He could see the football team gearing up to decide who was the biggest meathead of them all, and the cheerleaders, seeing how much skin they could show off before someone saw. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The air was brisk and as he blew out the smoke from his cigarette he thought of home. It was snowing in New York right now, real true snow. In California, the best they had was a light dusting of frost in the morning. This place was like some climate bubble, free from the weather of the world. He hated it. Unfortunately, for the time being, he was stuck here. That called for another cigarette.

CANCELLED.

_{Location: Homeroom
Interacting With: | He Who Shall Not Be Named @Silent Observer | Trixie @Lovely Complex}

Anyone who’s ever had a crush on someone can tell you exactly how horrendous it is to get over said crush. Not the normal way, wherein the intense desire you once had for said person slowly fades away until you finally realize that they’re quite a bore, and actually have a weird set of eyes. No, the hard way is what comes about when you are forced to get over said crush as soon as possible, mainly because you’ve just found out they have a secret boyfriend or are a closeted racist. Jamie was currently going through the hard way.

Of course Josie chose today of all days to dance in fucking homeroom, and of course, Marshall felt the need to join her. And of course, he was very, very, very fucking good at dancing. How the hell was that kinda shit even legal? Jamie was seated quietly, nose buried in a ratty old book, trying desperately to keep his eyes from drifting over to where Marshall and Josie were practicing. Eyes on the book dumbass! he scolded himself, to no avail.

Jamie wasn’t particularly used to romance, or really any crushes in general. He had liked boys from time to time, but never anything as consuming as this. And he wasn’t a stranger to relationships, hell, he’d dated a few girls back when he was still in the closet, but he’d never had anything extremely serious. He’d never even kissed a boy. And now, here he was, hopelessly swooning over some dude who maybe, probably, for sure had a boyfriend that he was keeping a secret from everyone. Because surely, there was no other explanation? Right? I mean, no one just sits in a random closet and talks.

At least the swooning had been a gradual thing, that much Jamie was grateful for. It would be embarrassing to just see someone and instantly fall in love. This wasn’t a Disney movie. Sure, Jamie had seen Marshall and thought, Hey, he’s cute but he didn’t fall head over heels. That came over time. Specifically, it came over a forty five minute period, an interview Marshall gave Jamie about the musical. He was confident, and charming and fuck. Jamie was still swooning.

Why hadn’t he done anything right then? Asked him out right after the interview? Because Jamie had somehow ended up with some deep seated fear of rejection. Sure, his parents had loved him, and raised him the best they could, but somehow along the way, he’d gotten a bit fucked up, and he wasn’t sure how to fix it. Maybe it came from years living in the closet, maybe it was a chemical imbalance in his brain, or maybe it was divine intervention. Whatever it was, it sucked.

Jamie was pulled from the solace and solitude of his thoughts by the sudden change in music, followed by Marshall...twerking. Literally throwing his ass back. His ass. The gay equivalent of just shoving your pelvis in someone’s face. Jamie’s cheeks burned and he turned away, but like any malevolent force, the universe wouldn’t give Jamie a break.

Marshall took the seat right next to Jamie, forcing a smorgasbord of emotions through the young journalist’s mind. Among them, anger, anxiety, and a strong sense of lust. Before Marshall could get a word out though, Trixie barged in between them, asking for a word with Jamie about what she said was club stuff, but clearly wasn’t club stuff. This ought to be good. Jamie gave a pointed look at Marshall, his face stone cold. ”Oh yeah, I can talk right now. It wasn’t what it looked like,” Jamie said, turning to Trixie and grinning, despite the pang in his stomach, the unfamiliar pang of guilt.

CANCELLED.

_{Location: Homeroom
Featuring: | Wyatt | Owen | Quincy | A Double |}

Wyatt, in all of his stoned glory, turned away from Q and over to the new arrivals, Owen and A Double. Owen extended his hand and introduced himself to the scrawny young stoner, a move that Wyatt almost laughed at. This kid really thought that they hadn’t heard of him. Sure, the Burners often found themselves to be the Switzerland of school politics, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in the know. In fact, one could argue that the reason they were able to hold such a protected status was because they were in the know. If A Double and the Hailstorm weren’t tight they’d probably be just as much a part of her game as the rest of them.

Wyatt grinned, partly because he was stoned, partly because he liked meeting new people, and shook Owen’s hand enthusiastically. ”Dude, I know who you are. I’m Wyatt,” he said, his voice raspy, but no less friendly.

Meanwhile, across the table, Q was rolling her eyes at A Double’s newest guest. Did she mind A Double being friends with everyone? No. Did she mind him being friends with some of the people who arguably tried to ruin her life? Yes. A bit. And sure, Owen got screwed over by Hailey and her sluts too, but that didn’t make him any less innocent in the witch hunt that had brought Jennifer crashing and burning. Granted he had orchestrated that party, or at least he’d been involved. Plus, according to the Weekend Warrior, he hadn’t been too keen on letting Hailey and her minions into the party.

Quincy didn’t have much time to ponder over Owen’s arrival at their side of the classroom, due to the sudden pressure she felt on her foot. Oh my fuck. A Double is playing footsies with me. Oh my fucking fuck. Secret! One fucking secret is all I ask! she thought before looking over at her...person, and shot figurative lasers from her eyes, praying he would get the memo. Have you ever thought about why you want to keep it such a secret? Maybe you’re still hoping you can win your way back into Hailey’s good graces?” Quincy thought. Well, more like the nasty voice in her head, but in a way, that was Quincy.

“Oh… yeah. I’m kinda school famous now, huh? Weird how basically committing a hate crime does that.” Owen said, before letting go of Wyatt’s hand and smiling as best he could, which was… awkward to say the least. Owen was awkward. He was, like… really awkward. But he wanted to try and make friends, and A Double’s group was the most accepting group of… well, anyone in this godforsaken place.

A Double turned his attentions to Quincy when he felt her glaring daggers at him, and his foot rather instantly retreated to his side of the table and he gave her a sad look, even puffing his bottom lip out a little bit. “Uh… I got you something in my jacket, Q. For later. And, I want you and Wyatt to know that I beat Mario today. Well, I mean, I played as Mario. And I beat Bowser. But I did it!” While his voice was as happy as ever, A Double’s eyes were sad the entire time he spoke, still staring at Q. He decided then and there that he didn’t like being a secret.

Quincy hated feeling guilty. She tried very hard to let everything roll off her shoulders, but the fact of the matter was, guilt sat in her stomach, and gnawed at her insides, and begged to be dealt with. And right now, Quincy felt guilty. WHY CAN’T I JUST BE SANE? she mused, chewing on her lip as her hand slowly began to gravitate upwards, towards her blonde waves. She didn’t like this. Feeling bad because A Double felt bad. And feeling bad for feeling bad. And...feeling in general. This was strange, uncharted territory. She hated it.

Looking over at A Double she offered him what she hoped was an apologetic smile. She could never figure out video games, nor the appeal behind them, likely due to too many years caking her face in make up instead of Dorito dust, but she knew A Double liked them, and that’s what counted at the moment. ”That’s great! Right?”

Wyatt, for the most part, was oblivious to the inner conflict of Quincy, and the external conflict of her and A Double. However, the moment A Double brought up Mario, he was all ears. There was only one type of shrooms he liked more than the illegal kind, and they weren’t portobello. ”Q, of fucking course that’s good! Perfect run?” he asked, clearly excited by his friend’s accomplishment.

Owen seemed taken aback that both A Double and Wyatt seemed equally happy about the video game accomplishment, and he bit back a few snide remarks, taking a deep breath and turning his attentions instead to Q, deciding to strike up a conversation with the girl that A Double had more or less confirmed he was falling in love with. Again, he held out his hand, again very awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Owen.”

Luckily for Q, A Double’s was busy with Wyatt now, temporarily over their brief spat about the footsie thing. “Yeah, it was totally awesome. All 120 stars! But I think I can do better next time, or at least like… faster. Maybe if I’m less high when I start…”

Q turned from A Double to Owen the moment his hand extended towards her. She narrowed her eyes, just slightly, studying the hand and the boy it belonged too, before slowly extending her own to meet it. ”Quincy, but I guess you always knew me as Jennifer. You can call me Quincy now. Guessing you aren’t as infatuated with the Mushroom Kingdom as these two?” Quincy asked, smirking. She was going to try and be nice, for the sake of A Double, and her morals. If she could get a second chance with the Burners, why couldn’t Owen? Because you hate him and he helped ruin your life? Oh. Yeah.

Wyatt grinned at his best friend. ”My dude, weed only improves performance, everyone knows that. The problem here is you didn’t have Wyatt Durand by your side,” Wyatt said. He had known A Double since kindergarten, and since then they’d been nearly inseparable. Especially when shit with his dad’s started being too much, he basically started living at Dreamland. A Double was his best friend, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. He was there when everyone else wasn’t. And sure, his dad’s weren’t his biggest fans, Elton downright hated him, but who cared. They hated everything Wyatt did anyways.

“Yeah, I know! I looked to my left, and you weren’t there, then I looked to my right, and you weren’t there, so I looked at my lap so I could give Q a kiss and she wasn’t there! Total bummer, man.”

Q froze mid conversation with Owen, her face red with embarrassment. This wasn’t how she wanted to tell people. And she realized then, that yeah, she had wanted to tell people. Just not. Right. Then. She turned to A Double and took a deep breath through her nose, her jaw clenched tight. There was a rush of emotions going through her head right now, she couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t that he’d just spilled the beans. It was that she’d asked specifically for him not to spill the beans. And he had anyways. He hadn’t told Wyatt in secret like she’d assumed he would. He announced it to their entire fucking homeroom. Before she could explode she stood up, her chair scraping against the linoleum floor, and grabbed her bookbag, storming out into the hall, trying her best to keep from screaming and crying and punching a locker.

Wyatt on the other hand, while just as shocked, reacted much differently. He sat in silence while Quincy had her episode, but once she’d stormed out, he gave A Double a look, the one that every boy gives their best friend at some point in their relationship. ”So like...did you guys pipe?”

“Dude, I JUST told you to be careful!”

CANCELLED.

Location: Home -> Homeroom
Interacting with: | Wyatt |

---

---

Quincy Hart hated school a lot less now that she was a Burner. Sure, it still sucked, but since she’d stopped following around the It Girls like the fluffed up poodle that was Selena Sterling, she’d found that she had much more time to sleep. Her morning routine was getting out of bed, slipping into whatever she could find that wasn’t dirty, and leaving. She had no need to be up at 5:30 to do her hair, because no one cared. She could walk in to school completely naked, and chances are the only one who would bat an eye would be A Double.

Speaking of…

Quincy had woken up the morning after the party, the taste of her own breath and McDonalds mixing together on her tongue, and one of A Double’s band tees covering her body. She was shook to say the least. Because surely, if you wake up in a boy’s clothes, you had sex with him? Q couldn’t quite recall, but as she later found out over waffles, they had not slept together. The only thing that had happened that night was a decent amount of making out, and that was it. And for that, Q was thankful.

That morning, after Wyatt had disappeared into Dreamland for a nap, Q and A Double had snuck off and discussed...well not much. Q had been firm that she didn’t know what was going on, but she’d think about it. And until further notice, whatever they were, was a secret. Quincy knew damn well that once it got out that her and A Double were a thing, it would change. She just wanted to exist, for a moment, in a pure moment of romance. Was that too much to ask?

Since that morning, Quincy had been keeping her distance, trying to work things out. Relationships were scary, commitment was scary, and falling in love? Terrifying. Yet, Quincy Hart was seated on this Monday morning, looking into her vanity, contemplating all three. What have I done?

Once she was satisfied with her clothes’ level of IDGAF attitude, Quincy trotted downstairs. Her mom had returned home over last night, and was still upstairs in bed. Q didn’t bother waking her. She slipped out the front door, snagging an apple from the kitchen on her way out, and began the drive to BHHS in her car, the one luxury item she chose to use.

An uneventful drive led to an uneventful wait in the parking lot, scrolling through social media and watching students pass by her car. When she finally made her way into homeroom, she took a seat at her usual table, with A Double, Rose and Raf. She sat down next to A Double and offered a smile. ”Hey,” she said, waving. Before she could continue, Wyatt came in, clearly stoned. Perhaps the only person Q knew better than A Double was Wyatt, and she knew that when Wyatt was stoned, he didn’t walk. He swaggered. And just like Johnny Depp in full pirate garb, Wyatt swaggered over to their table, and Quincy instinctively gave him her Stare.

Quincy’s Stare isn’t a normal one. See, Q wasn’t always a Burner. Being a Prep led to a few lessons on how to stare daggers at someone, and Q had studied. She didn’t like to get up on her high horse about being high at school, but she worried about Wyatt. She’d gathered bits and pieces about his family life over her time with the Burners, and she knew it wasn’t great. She’d never asked him, and A Double wouldn’t tell her, but she knew he didn’t get along very well with his dads. Her mom had mentioned the Durand’s a few times, and she knew his siblings were the exact opposites of Wyatt, so she imagined it had something to do with that. She just didn’t want him to use weed as an escape. Maybe you shouldn’t be judging.”

CANCELLED.

Location: Callaghan Residence -> School
Interacting with: Melancholy and Heartbreak, his new best friends.

---

---

Morning in the Callaghan house was rarely quiet. Between four kids and two adults, there wasn't anyplace to go where you wouldn't here someone getting ready for the day. On this Monday morning, Jamie was brushing his hair in the mirror, making sure he didn't go to school looking like a homeless man. He wasn't excited to go to school. He normally was rather neutral on the subject, but today he wasn't in the mood. He didn't want to go and talk about stupid Shakespeare or Pythagorean or the Couples to Watch at BHHS like Trevor Wells and Savannah Matthews, or Sean Sterling and Brynn Payne or Marshall Radley and Riley Wells.

Jamie would be lying if he said he hadn't contemplated running away, or staying and ruining Riley's life. But, he knew both those things were immature and foolish. So, he'd have to settle for moping in the shadow of his broken heart. That was easier and more cost effective anyway.

He'd thought about the situation at the party for most of the past five days, rarely even going out to do anything other than work on the paper and mope. He did go out with Selena, and talk about how Brynn was screwing her brother, a shocker to Selena and no one else. But he hadn't seen Marshall. Nope. And he wasn't mad about it. If Marshall and Rye wanted to make out in closets at parties that was their business. But Jamie wasn't going to deal with any of that bullshit. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the chaos that was the Callaghan house. The Twins shoved past him, shirtless and wielding Nerf guns, screaming like banshees. "Boys! I told you if you weren't dressed by the time I was out of the shower that there'd be no games after school," Jamie's mom scolded from her room.

Jamie shook his head and headed downstairs to the kitchen where Katie was biting into a PopTart, scrolling through her phone, tuned out of the war that was being waged upstairs. Katie looked up as Jamie began pouring himself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and smirked. "I read the Weekend Warrior's blog last night. Sounds like you had fun at the party. Is your boyfriend doing alright?" Katie teased. Jamie rolled his eyes at his sister's taunts. "First, everyone knows that the Weekend Warrior is a gossipy piece of trash. Second, Marshall Radley is not my boyfriend." "Boyfriend? Who's this boyfriend?" Dr. Henry Callaghan asked, waltzing into the kitchen. "No one has a boyfriend, Dad. Your children are painfully single," Jamie replied, beginning to eat his cereal. "Good, because neither of you need to be corrupted by the wiles of men," the patriarch said, grinning.

Once breakfast was done and goodbyes were said, Katie and Jamie piled into his car, and began the short drive to the high school, music playing softly over the stereo. Once parked, Katie got out, waving her thanks, and Jamie spent his last few minutes of freedom Snapchatting his streaks. He heard the bell ring from the parking lot and he begrudgingly headed inside and into Mrs. Winship's classroom, where he planted himself in the table furthest to the back and stuck his nose into his phone, hoping to avoid any awkward conversations for the day. He needed a good vent.

CANCELLED.

Location: The Durand House -> Homeroom
Interacting with: | A Double @Universorum| The Qster | Riff Raff @Silent Observer | Rose @Lovely Complex |

---

---

Wyatt didn't want to go to school. He hated school. It was stupid and constricting and pointless and stupid. And pointless. There was always some teacher or shitty student waiting around to tell him how stupid he was, or how he needed to pay attention, or how he lacked motivation. If he'd stayed at A Double's last night, he probably would've just skipped and gone skating instead. But he'd stayed at home, cause the Dads demanded it, and so, skipping would be harder. They liked to drop him off right in front of the school, to make sure he went in. And once Wyatt went in, the teachers watched him like hawks watching mice. He wouldn't be able to leave if he tried.

This morning, he rolled out of bed, naked save for his boxers, and slowly shuffled into the bathroom, where he took a shower that was probably too short for anything to even be clean, not that Wyatt gave a fuck. He dressed himself in a baggy Disneyland sweater, and some jeans, old Converse and his antique watch. He looked straight out of 2017. He looked in the mirror and sighed. He wasn't excited in the slightest.

Downstairs, in the dining room, Jason Durand was seated, munching on a bowl of Lucky Charms, his long hair tied back into a bun. Wyatt came down and poured himself a bowl of Apple Jacks. "Is the Warden already at work," Wyatt asked, referring to his other father, Dr. Elton Durand. Jason looked up at his son, his "That Joke Was Good But Out of Line" face on. Wyatt. Your dad is only hard on you because he cares. He loves you very much," Jason said softly. Wyatt chuckled and took a bite of cereal. "Funny way of showing it." Jason didn't retort. He'd learned a long time ago that fighting with Wyatt never went well, and unlike Elton, he tried to keep from giving Wyatt fuel for the fire. He loved him, but he certainly made it difficult.

The rest of their breakfast passed in silence, as did the drive to school. Once they got up in front Jason turned to Wyatt and smiled. "Be good Wyatt. I love you. Have a good day," "Yeah, yeah," Wyatt said nonchalantly, getting out of the car and walking into the school, head down. He watched as Jason's car drove off, and he thought about making a run for it, but the campus rent-a-cop was watching him from the flagpole. He sighed. Guess I'm stuck here. Might as well take the edge off.

Being high at school wasn't abnormal for Wyatt. Hell, being high was routine for Wyatt. He knew the janitor's closet down the first hall was empty in the mornings, and had a vent that went right out side, so no one would suspect a thing. As kids shuffled between classes, he ducked into the dark closet and started rifling through his bag, until he felt a small ziploc. He pulled it out, but along with it came a bag of white powder, that fell to the ground. "Fuck," Wyatt muttered, bending down to snatch the bag up, before stowing it away. He sighed and began to pack the weed into a pipe, which he lit and blew, all into the vent.

Fifteen minutes later, Wyatt snuck out of the closet, smelling faintly of pot, and made his way to Winship's class, a smidge late, but Winship never cared much. She was a cool teacher, and she liked Wyatt. He strolled on in and over to where Quincy and A Double were seated with Raf and Rose. He grinned and sat next to A Double, slinging his arm around his shoulder. "Howdy friends, welcome back to this wonderful day at BHHS!" Wyatt crowed. Quincy gave him a quizzical look and then one of minor disappointment. "Wyatt? Are you high?" "As a kite, Qster. Cock a doodle doo!"