So sorry for the late update! Pls forgive <3

☆☆Dedication to @Ashleethegoodgirl ☆☆

T w e l v e : Hoedown Throw-down 

"Hi, Sir," I mumble. It's barely audible over the click of the door behind me.

"Erika Monroe," Blythe replies, without looking up. I watch with aching apprehension as he lifts his thumb slowly to the garnered moisture in the corner of his mouth, before using the dampness to slide another page across his notebook. It slices through the air with no resistance. "Take a seat."

Without hesitation, I stumble forwards and collapse into the leather seat in front of his desk. The room hasn't changed much from my last visit. It's still stark and strangely cold, denied the luxury of plush furnishing or trinkets. There is, however, the addition of a small potted cactus. Somehow, the plant covered in long spines seems to be the friendlier of the two living creatures facing me.

Oblivious, or ignorant of, my nerves, Blythe continues leisurely reading through immaculate lines of serif font. Only after half a minute of perusal does he lazily lift his chin to face me.

"What can I help you with, Erika?"

I meet his unfeeling gaze and remind myself to have courage. After weeks of guilty sickness and nauseous doubt, the words tumble out of me like vomit: fast, messy and yet strangely relieving.

"I can't do this anymore."

Blythe doesn't respond.

"I can't help you anymore," I reaffirm, listening to my shaky voice say the words that I've been screaming internally for weeks. "I don't want to help you with evidence. I want to back out."

The words float uncomfortably in the air for a few seconds, then sink into acceptance, like a feather dancing its way down to a stagnant demise.

Finally, Principal Blythe makes a humming noise of content and leans further back into his chair with practised nonchalance. It complains a little under his weight, but the squeak does not deter his icy cold expression. "And why, pray tell, did you come to this decision?"

"He's my friend." I squeeze my knuckles tightly, just below his eyeline. "I don't want this."

"Ah." Blythe taps his pen on the lip of his desk, and for the first time, I see a strained smile on his thin lips. "I didn't pin you as the sort of person that would let anything get in the way of your priorities...let alone a boy you've known for a measly two weeks. Interesting how a person can surprise you."

My mouth dries. I watch him as he lifts the pen into the air, flicks it dismissively.

"No matter. I can find a replacement for you easily enough."

"A replacement?"

Mr Blythe meets my eye again, and there's something about the glinting defiance in his pupils that ignites my instinct to step back. "Well, yes. Plenty of students in this school want to get into Stanford, Erika, regardless of the people they need to let go of to get there. Stanford University wants bright, business-savvy young students who know what they want and how they'll get it."

Defensiveness flares before I can help it and I find myself leaning forward slightly with my fists clenched around the weathered arm rests. "I know how I'll get it. I'll work hard."

"Of course, you will," Blythe responds dryly, with the air of someone telling a child that of course the tooth fairy is real. I watch in angered silence as he runs his fingers along the length of his fountain pen. "With or without you, however, the job will be done."

"I don't want to be any part of it. I don't agree with it."

Mr Blythe nods, as if he'd expected this. "Getting into Stanford is going to be a challenge with your current grades, Erika. Your recent evaluations are...not promising."

"I'll rise up to that challenge."

"Yes." He purses his lips briefly, then strikes for the kill. "It's a shame that you won't be able to work to improve your character references though, isn't it? I had such high hopes for your application, but clearly that passion I see in your applications doesn't materialise beyond paper."

The threat is as evident as the fangs of a viper. I suck in a breath that stings my throat. A flash of images in my brain: a terrible reference from a spiteful headmaster. A refusal letter posted through the door. Mom shaking her head, turning away. I close my eyes.

My voice shakes with anger or anxiety, maybe a combination. "I'm a good student, Sir."

When I open my eyes, Mr Blythe is leaning towards me, his hands splayed wide across the smooth wooden surface of his desk. His cold eyes are narrowed solely on me. "Sometimes, Miss Monroe, good isn't good enough. Top colleges like Stanford look for the person ready to go that extra mile. They look for the thing that makes someone stand out."

I have lost all sensation beyond the burning in my eyes.

"What are you saying?"

Mr Blythe leans back and drops his gaze to his pen, satisfied at the victim in his clutches. "With your grades, and your extra curriculars- you are nothing special, Erika Monroe."

I recoil as if the hit was physical.

"You need me-," he continues, finally placing the pen down. His eyes flash up to mine, sparkling with victory. "-a lot more than I need you."

My fists, once so strong, fall to my lap.

*~*~*

"I am 'nothing special'," I repeat, not-at-all bitterly, tearing the crust from the last of my triangular quartered sandwiches. "From now on, I will not answer to Erika, Ricky, gorgeous or any other of my previous titles. From now on, I answer only to Nothing Special."

Miko places a hand on my arm sympathetically. "Erika-"

"No, no," I cut her off, brushing her arm aside and waving the sandwich angrily. "It's Nothing Special, remember? I'll even let you call me Not Special for short, if you're feeling flirtatious."

"Stop!" Miko orders, batting my sandwich aside. A drop of mayo falls to the surface of our lunch table with a wet slop sound. "You're making a Dad joke into a sad joke and I can't take it anymore! Where was this attitude when that Prick-cipal threatened and manipulated you?"

"This attitude-" I continue mournfully, through a mouthful of brown bread. "-was in a hospital bed, suffering from extensive injuries. Right beside my fatally-bruised ego."

"What are you doing?" Miko says, glaring into me with a power that I crumble beneath in my current state. "Where is my fiery Erika? The one that would have told him where to stick it?"

"She's buried underneath a pile of Nothing Special."

Miko shakes her head, and the cherry-soda earrings she's wearing shake as potently as if they were pointed fingers. "Why did you agree to this Erika?"

"I don't know," I mumble, physically deflating. "He literally told me I didn't have a shot at Stanford without him. If he writes a bad character reflection...that undoes everything I've been working towards. Every hour spent in the library, every sports membership, every day of school-"

Miko must sense that the tears are threatening me again because her almond shaped eyes soften, and her hand returns to my forearm. "It's okay. It's okay, Erika."

"It's not okay," I murmur despairingly. "But I- I just caved."

Miko loops her arm around my shoulder and squeezes me to her side tightly. She smells like floral perfume and strawberry bubble-gum, one of the most comforting smells in the world. "You move mountains on your best day, Erika Monroe. Everybody is allowed to cave sometimes."

I chew on another dissatisfying mouthful of sandwich and lean my head against Miko's for support, as if she could transmit me strength via osmosis. "I need to get this over with. The longer I draw this out, the more pain I'll cause him."

"Maybe he'll never find out," Miko says unsurely.

"I couldn't be his friend after I did that to him."

"Yeah." She sighs.

"I need to do this. Tonight. I need your help."

"Okay," she agrees softly. "We'll get you out of this."

"Are we breaking up a cuddle?" A voice calls from behind us. Before Miko or I have even had chance to turn at the greeting, our lunch table is being surrounded. Joe flashes us a cheeky grin as he slides into the seat opposite, shortly followed by Dylan and Alec. Violet chucks a mango juice box at the side of his head and it hits his cranium with a thump, before smacking to the table surface. She and Riley collapse into the seats beside Miko, with full trays of food.

"If I weren't already concerned about your brain capacity," Joe grunts, rubbing his head and scowling at Violet. "I would throw this right back at you."

Violet scoffs and takes a sip from her water bottle. "Honey, you have your own brain problems to worry about before you look at mine."

Miko gives me one final comforting squeeze around my shoulders before we detach from our embrace. Clearing her throat and playing absentmindedly with the tennis charm on her bracelet, she asks the others the question I've been wondering myself. "Where's Chase?"

A tangible pause. Riley shuffles and angles her head to the left.

Violet grimaces a little. "He's over there."

I follow her line of vision, to see Chase standing a few feet away with his back facing us. Standing in front of him, just concealed from view by his body, is a petite girl. Her thin black braids are barely visible beside his bicep, but I'd know that loud laughter anywhere. I don't realise I'm craning to get a view of her before my palm almost slips out from underneath me and I readjust myself with a squeak.

Ashlee Campbell has eyes the colour of coffee and clear brown skin, which is creased into an adorable smile as she chatters to Chase. It's clear that she's talking a mile a minute, but he seems to be enjoying it, judging by his melodic laughter. I feel a strange ache in my chest, watching them. Ashlee is known for being small and cutely dorky; everyone loves her.

My eyebrow furrows slightly. I wish I could hear what she was saying.

"Are you alright there, Erika?" Violet asks, recapturing my attention. When I finally rip my gaze away from Chase and his friend, I see that she's watching me with interest. If the amusement wasn't recognisable already with her voice, it's written clearly across her smirk.

"I'm fine," I say defensively, folding my hands in my lap. "I just really like her t-shirt."

Alec cocks his head, eyes laughing. "I never pegged you as a fan of The Last Airbender."

"Are you kidding?" I scoff. "I love that film."

"It's a TV show, Erika."

"Of course, it is." I nod. "But it's very filmic. The camera angles are so cinematic."

Miko groans and buries her face in her hands. "Erika, honey, it's an animation."

I open my mouth and I'm about to spout another round of spontaneous bullshit when Joe shakes his head at me. His grin is wide and goofy, and without the need for words, it tells me exactly how much I've embarrassed myself with my blatant staring, and how feeble my excuses really are. The excuse is stolen from my lips. Instead, I make a noise of complaint and glare down at my unfinished sandwich.

"That's it," Miko soothes me, placing a hand on my back. "No need to dig any deeper."

"Who's digging?" Chase's velvety voice sounds from my right, shortly before he slips into the free seat beside me. He smells like cologne and something oddly sweet, and it draws my burning face out of hiding. I smile sheepishly at him. He steals one of my sandwiches and begins to chew.

"Erika is thinking about getting into agriculture," Miko says seriously.

Chase frowns in amused confusion, his pecan eyes alight as they turn to me. "Well, I suppose pigs do belong in a farming environment."

My embarrassment instantly forgotten; I bat him scoldingly on the shoulder.

"Now, now, Chase," Miko says, lazily stretching her arms behind her and yawning. "Hogs don't like it when you mistake them for pigs. It makes them angry."

"Not you too!" I groan. "Why is everyone picking on me today?"

"It might have something to do with your sandwich choice," Chase contributes helpfully, chewing through his stolen triangle with a slightly wrinkled nose. He swallows loudly, then shakes his head. "Turkey salad on brown bread just begs to be picked on."

"You're still eating it."

"I'm saving you the pain, gorgeous."

I roll my eyes and begin to eat my own triangle. A moment of comfortable silence lulls past before Dylan decides to break it.

"I didn't know you and Ashlee were friends, Chase," he says conversationally. His eyes flit to mine for half a second before they land on the idiot beside me, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Chase says, with his mouth full. "Her friend wants a second date with me, Ashlee was the messenger. We know each other from History class."

"What was the result?" Alec asks.

Chase shoots Alec a blank look. "I said to let her down easy."

"Ouch."

"Don't worry," I pipe up. "She'll realise that she dodged a bullet soon enough."

Chase shoves me lightly with his shoulder, his mouth too full of bread to spout an insult.

"What about you, Erika?" Riley asks sweetly, popping a fry into her mouth. "How do you know Ellis Jackey? Because he hasn't stopped staring at you since we arrived here."

Chase swallows the last of his sandwich audibly.

"Oh, El is one of Dylan's friends," I say dismissively, poking at a piece of lettuce on my tray. Ellis is sitting at one of the tables to our left, with some of the other football boys. I noticed him when I walked into the cafeteria, but we don't tend to speak much outside of class.

I finally take a glimpse around the table and to my horror, the others have all twisted around in their seats to assess the handsome line-backer, only a few tables away. I gasp and hurriedly flap my hands, my words slurring together in my haste. "No, no! Don't stare at him all at once!"

"I think we've caught his attention," Violet affirms, chewing a fry and staring blatantly.

"His whole table are getting up. I think they're leaving," Miko reports.

"They're going to come past us to get to the door," Riley says, nodding.

"Guys!" I hiss.

I know when the football boys are approaching because suddenly, the girls are twisting around in their seats again and attempting to act inconspicuous. I dare a glimpse over my shoulder. The group are weaving their way through the tables, to the exit. The football tucked under Jack's arm tells me that they're probably headed for the field. Walking closest to us, on the right-hand side of the group of boys, is Ellis. He smiles crookedly at me, outstretching a tanned arm to flick my braid playfully as he walks past.

"Hey, Erika."

"Hi," I say, smiling uncomfortably.

El's warm brown eyes shift away to focus on the cafeteria exit and I finally release my restrained breath and turn back to the table. As soon as he's out of hearing distance, Riley leans towards me dramatically, stretching over her tray with no regard for the messy ketchup sachets.

"It's official. It's true love. He's crazy for you."

"Or just crazy," Chase mutters lowly.

My elbow finds his stomach and I hear an oomph.

"Do you like him?" Dylan asks me, his eyes a little too wide and voice a little too casual for my liking. Ellis is one of his closest friends on the football team. If he really does like me then Dylan certainly knows about it and will likely report back any intel.

I shrug helplessly. "Not really."

"Ouch." Alec says for the second time in the past five minutes, clutching his chest. "Hearts are being broken left, right and centre today."

"It seems we have more than one heartbreaker in our presence after all," Joe drawls, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest proudly. His eyes flit between Chase and I, as if shaping us up for battle. "A real hoe-down throwdown."

"Call me a hoe again and I will smack you with the garden tool namesake," I say sweetly.

Joe gasps. "She's ruthless and violent."

"Yet sexy," Miko chimes, sipping at a strawberry milk. "Very sexy."

"Ellis does really like you," Dylan admits, folding a torn-off piece of sandwich box in his fingers and folding it. "I'm pretty sure he's going to ask soon. He's just...warming up to the idea."

"He seems like an alright guy," Alec contributes, shrugging.

Chase clears his throat beside me, instantly capturing the attention of the table. He pauses, toying with our patience, before outstretching his lean forearms in front of him to rest on the polished grey surface. His smirk is debonair and dangerous beneath his messy curls.

"Well," he says smoothly. "I think that he has the personality of a self-service checkout."

Joe snorts. Even Violet smiles.

"Are you saying Erika deserves better, Chase?" Riley asks, raising an eyebrow daringly. I turn to follow her gaze, unable to restrain my curiosity about what he'll say next.

Chase's smirk twitches slightly, barely visibly. He glances at me for half a second. "Actually, Riles, I was implying that's the reason that they're such a perfect match."

"Dickwad," I mutter, picking a damp piece of lettuce from the table to throw at him. "I've had phone battery that lasted longer than your relationships."

Chase captures my wrist before I can release the lettuce. His eyes, inches from my own, are buttery with playfulness, framed with dark lashes. "I'm known for lasting, gorgeous."

I glare into his stupidly beautiful face, disconcerted by the warmth flooding up my arm at his touch. I draw out the best card I can think of for this situation: my Ace of Spades.

"Oh really, Squidge?"

The victory instantly disappears from Chase's chiselled features.

"Squidge?" Alec echoes.

"Don't you dare," Chase warns me in a low voice. I assess the threat in his expression with smug delight and beam back at him.

"Why do you call him Squidge, Erika?" Joe asks excitedly, leaning forwards.

"Don't tell them."

"Erika, please," Joe whines.

I look at Chase. Look at Joe. Back again. "It's an inside joke."

"If you say any more-" Chase threatens.

The words tumble out of me as fast as I can manage them.

"Basically, I convinced this waitress that he had erectile problems an-aah-"

Before I can finish my sentence, two strong arms have encircled me around the hips, and I'm lifted into the air like a sack of flour and hauled over a hard shoulder. The world turns upside down and I'm dipped into momentary confusion, staring at a cotton grey back. When I finally realise my position, it's too late, and Chase has pinned my legs firmly to his chest, forcing me to struggle with the inadequacy of my abdominal muscles. Every squirm, every twist, is startlingly unsuccessful.

"No, help-" I wheeze. Chase's shoulder is digging into the soft part of my tummy, making it almost impossible to speak coherently. "I'm- ah- trying to say, h-h-he's squidgy-"

I hear Chase's voice override me, a loud announcement, as his grip on my legs tightens. "We need to go now but it's been so nice having lunch with you all-"

"Help!" I cry again, twisting my torso to try and reach up. Cursed laughter begins to bubble down my throat and before I know it, I'm giggling and gasping with spurts of breathlessness. My stomach cramps with the pressure of lifting myself and I collapse back down lifelessly.

"Have fun you two," Violet calls from somewhere behind me.

"Why would I have fun?" Chase responds. "I'm just taking the trash out."

I smack a tired fist into his back. Then, with one last huff of effort, I try to push myself up again. As the world straightens into coherence once more, my arms pressed straight against Chase's waistband to hold my body up, I catch sight of a person strolling through the cafeteria with enrapturing poise and power, like a lion in its pride.

Principal Blythe watches me with an unwavering, unsettling stare as he weaves through the lunchtime chaos. His eyes lift to Chase, then return to me. He nods.

And suddenly the urge to giggle is gone.

A/N: Hiiii! Sorry for the late update, things have been a bit hectic recently. I think this chapter feels a bit 'meh' so I'm sorry for that, but I promise the next one will be a LOT more exciting :)) I'll try to update early if I can!

See you later alligators,

Cherry x