Author's Note: crude language warning- basically guys being the sick little pervs they are- which is, like, all the time... Some swearing and some mention of drugs.

Two weeks. Two weeks since the last time Delia had talked to her, even though she had fixed the Ian thing. Two weeks since she had spoken to Harper, blatantly refusing to give him the time of day. Two weeks since she had looked at her text messages or checked any of her social media. Two weeks of self inflicted solitary confinement.

Sick and tired of Harper's attempts to find her and talk to her, sick and tired of his constant presence, she had found a place to hide. At first, she had tried hiding in the auditorium, but since the doors were always unlocked and couples went there to make out, she quickly abandoned that idea. It was hard to focus on anything when being forced to watch other students sucking face like their lives depended on it. She tried to go backstage and hide there, but was disappointed to find the doors were locked.

Particularly incensed one day after her media class, she used her spare to explore every nook and cranny of the school. To her delight she found a place that Harper wouldn't. Intent on finding every possible exit to the school, she explored the first floor of the building. Most of them were obvious exits, and were busy all day, but as she wandered down the hallway in front of the gymnasium, she found a door.

At the corner of the school and surrounded by lockers, the door led into a narrow hallway lined with more lockers. As she sauntered down the hallway, she noted that none of the old lockers were in use. Her first thought had been to use this hallway as her hideout, but realised the door she had come through was glass and therefore absolutely see through. But then, she happily discovered the other- big metal- door at the end of the narrow hallway. Leaning all her weight on the door, which gave way with a loud scraping noise, she fell out onto the veranda.

The veranda was about four feet wide and snaked around most of the school, edged with a 3 foot high stone barrier. It sat comfortably under an equally as wide roof with staggered decorative pillars. It was absolutely pointless for this side of the school to have a veranda. Pointless, because four feet from the edge of the platform was the towering concrete wall that was the back of the bleachers. Even more pointless because no one would ever go back there- Cherish smiled, no one but her. She walked to the far end and sat behind a pillar against the wall, out of view of anyone who might pass. Pulling her sketchbook out of her bag before tossing the latter aside, she hummed softly as she doodled

-.-

For early October the weather was unseasonably warm and Cherish sat on the veranda at lunch, burning uncomfortably in her long sleeve black button up shirt. The lunch time announcements blared out of the speakers in the quad, the JCM Radio host dishing out random bits of information in an annoyingly hyperactive way.  "Also, a reminder, there will be no Halloween Dance this year."

Cherish could hear the loud chorus of protest from the students that scattered the quad.  "It has been moved to November, when we will have a Masquerade Ball! Ball, people, not just a regular dance! In other news, in your first period classes tomorrow, every student will have to fill out a survey. Please answer as honestly as you can, because I promise, people, you will be the ones suffering if you don't. That's all I can say, and now, I leave you with some candy for your ears! Voice-Box aawwoouut!"

She stopped listening and went back to reading the book that lay in front of her. She was spread out on the floor, her bag tucked under her arms, her chin resting lightly on her wrist. Feeling a kink in her back from having been there a while, she stretched, throwing her head back and pushing her body up so her back arched in something similar to a yoga position. Standing above her, all watching her with a mix of amusement and surprise were a bunch of guys, among which stood Ian and Seven. She eyed them warily and decided that she was not giving up her spot for them, and relaxed back onto the floor resumed her reading.

"Don't let us interrupt," Seven said as he continued to stare at her. She looked up at him and he grinned as he sat.  "We don't mind watching."

"Then watch this," she muttered, flipping him off. None of the rest of them moved, still too perplexed at seeing her there. It was for some time they stared at her, as if expecting her to get up and leave.  "Yes?" she asked patronizingly.

"Do you mind?"

"What?"

There was no reply, but she knew they were wary of her being there. Because she was Ari's sister, and because she was a freak who had no friends and spent her time doing homework and being a good little girl.  "I was here first."

"Today, yes, but-"

"Man, let's just go."

She looked at Ian, who appeared antsy and she rolled her eyes.  "You know, I don't give a rat's ass what you guys do."  Sitting up again, she leaned against one of the pillars so she faced away from them and waved her hand in the air, "Proceed."

There was a moment of awkward silence before she heard a few of them grumbling as they sat. "Juss, pass your lighter, I lost mine." 

After trying unsuccessfully twice and burning his finger once, Seven passed it to Ian who calmly lit the joint and passed it back, but not before taking a long drag.  "OW! What was that for?"

"I rolled it, jackass!"

Cherish read her book determinedly, forcing their stupid arguments and comments to become nothing but background noise. That is, until it became personal.  "This is not a good idea," said by random idiot number one.

"She won't say anything," Ian assured him.

"Yeah, and Ari McKinley wants to screw me," Seven's sarcasm dipped voice drawled.

Cherish felt her grip tighten on her book, but she refused to let him annoy her.

"Come on, look at her, E! She's a prude, even her sister looks like a slut beside her! If I wanted to get caught again I would have walked right into the office with this shit!"

"She won't say anything!" Ian protested, catching her eye, an apology written on his face.

"Sev's right, E, how do we know she won't rat us out?"

Seven thanked random idiot number two for agreeing with him and decided he was going to try and bother her. Looking her way, making sure she was listening, he drawled indecent things about her sister.  "..... she's not really my type, but hey, an ass is an ass and fuck hers is nice! Hell, in that skirt she might as well just hand it to me on a platter!"

"Yeah! Holy shit! She dropped her bag today and-"

"Ian? What time is it?"  They all stopped speaking to look at her; she stood beside them, her bag slung over her shoulder.

"12:45, why?"

"Just wanted to make sure the office was still open. Oh, and Seven, if I wanted to listen to whiny bitching, I would have gone to the girls' locker room."  She smirked when she saw the look on Seven's face as she turned and sauntered calmly into the school.

"That bitch!"

The sound of them scrambling after her was the funniest thing she had encountered in a while. She couldn't help laughing loudly as she raced down the hallway ahead of them and into the office.

"Dammit!" Seven yelled and he watched as the secretary looked up at Cherish questioningly. The girl had some nerve to turn and look back at him, an evil glint in her eye. Then she she leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones to the lady, using her flailing arms to accent the meaning of her words. The older woman nodded and motioned for her to sit in a chair in front of Mr. Stallman's door. Cherish grinned when she sat, catching sight of the expressions on their faces through the glass doors and waved.  Let them think she'd actually done it, served them right for being idiots.

-.-

Their absence was not missed by her in the art room that afternoon; there was no one to bother her. It had become a practice in the past couple of weeks, Seven and Adam trying to embarrass the new quiet girl. Though, for some reason they did it by talking about their escapades with the female gender. Talk on boys, she had thought, I've dealt with men worse than you, and in fact she had. But they didn't need to know that and she remained straight faced and absolutely unruffled as they tried everything to bother her.

She found it funny that they thought her a prude, in Seven's words. A goody two shoes and teacher's pet, and all because she focused on her school work instead of friends. Funny, because she had never really been that girl before. Even funnier was the fact that Ms. Dalton thought they were friends.  "Cherish? Do you know where the boys might be this afternoon?"

She shook her head and went back to her work, not particularly missing Ian's eyes boring into her head and Seven kicking the table when he passed.

"All right, well if you see them, will you let them know what I'm going to tell the class now?"

"Sure."

Ms. Dalton wandered to the front of the room, and hopped up onto a couch sitting on a table, making herself comfortable on the squishy cushions.  "Alright class, listen up!"  Once holding everyone's attention, she announced an art exhibit that would be part of Spirit Week. They would need to plan and propose their to-be-graded projects for said exhibit to her by the end of the week.

Spirit Week? Cherish assumed it would have something to do with Ari and her student council friends, it always did. She tried to remember if Ari had ever mentioned it to her, but gave up with a shrug. Lately she couldn't think of anything that happened before the last three months without remembering something that bought up painful memories. Frowning, she pressed her pencil to her sketchbook and sketched happy Ms. Dalton sitting on the couch.

-.-

"Welcome, Mistress McKinley!"

She rolled her eyes and took her seat behind Harper.  Mr. Hennessy had taken to calling her that because she could argue any point, even if it was wrong and come out the winner.

"In front of you, you will all notice a piece of paper- yes that's what it's called, Matthew, say it with me now, paaaaay-peeeeeer."  The comment earned a smattering of snickers, but Mr. Hennessy wasted no time and continued, "I'm sure you've all heard about the survey by now. No? Well, that's just too bad, you have to do it anyways! It's part of a project one of our former students is doing for a thesis, and since each survey corresponds to each student, you will be expected to answer properly. They can track you down, you know, they have eyes! EYES!!"

Shaking her head at Mr. Hennessy's antics, she looked to the paper on her desk and frowned, "What kind of survey is this?"

"One you have to answer."

The questions were some of the stupidest things she had ever seen on a survey for school! Aside from the typical name, age, gender queries, the survey was inundated with ridiculous and sometimes inappropriate questions. Hair and eye colour, height, music/movie/book preference, favourite song/colour/subject/holiday. Ocean or sea, night in or night out, dinner or dessert, concert or club, book or movie? There was even a question about sexual preference!

Not to mention the whole section on turn-ons that Cherish found appalling and inappropriate.  It was split into two headings; same sex (this does not mean you are gay, we're just asking what you like) and opposite sex (this does not mean you are straight, we're just asking what you like). Long or short hair, laid back or outgoing, quiet or loud, tall or short, good or bad, relaxed or challenging, artistic or athletic or academic, scruffy or well put together?

Two pages of stupid questions like those (yes there were more) and she answered them quickly, not stopping to ponder out her answers, and definitely not thinking on what purpose the survey would have. All around the school, on the warm morning of October 3rd, other students were doing the same.

-.-

While the week passed fairly uneventfully, on Thursday, two days after that stupid survey, Harper decided it was time to bother her again. He had been quiet for some days now, leaving her alone and not trying to follow her, but she knew it was too good to be true. Sure enough, he turned to her in the middle of their Media class, "So, Rish, whatcha doing this weekend?"

"I'm not talking to you, Harper."

"You just did."

"Well I won't do it again, I promise."

"Um...."

He paled at the death glare she gave him, and caught himself before saying anymore. Fiddling with his pen, he reached out between the computers and doodled on the edge of her notebook.  "Sorry."

"I don't care, Harper."

"I know, but I just wanted to tell you."

"Are you still talking to me?"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

...

The pause was a short lived one, and suddenly Harper wasn't so innocently bothering her.  "No! You know what, Cherish? You're being a bitch! I was just concerned, that's all, and if I asked Len what was up with you, there's no crime in that, okay?! She still hasn't replied to me, but I just wanted to know why you were acting so weird. If you're going to hate me for caring, then fine, I don't give a fuck anymore!"

She was unprepared for his outburst and tried to remove herself before she had a reaction she wouldn't be able to stop. His voice raised louder and louder the further away from him she went, till he was yelling across the room at her. It was Ian who stopped Harper from saying anymore, clamping a hand over his mouth. She watched them talk for a few moments, shocked into a stupefied silence, not really registering anything that passed before her eyes.

Walking through the hallways was a blind, slow process and she didn't even bother wiping away tears that blurred her vision. Normally she would have waited on the veranda for Ari to finish classes, while Ian and Seven annoyed the hell out of her during their mutual spare period, but she wanted nothing more than to go home.

Stumbling down the front stairs of the school and out into the parking lot, she was vaguely aware of the footsteps following her. She fumbled with the keys to unlock the door, and once she slid into the driver's seat, she fumbled again trying to jam the keys into the ignition. Failing and dropping the keys under her seat, she screeched, punching the steering wheel and feeling very stupid after for the rush of pain it caused her.

"Cherish?"

She closed her eyes, "Go away, Harper!"

"It's Ian."  He quietly reached around her open door and released the locks on the car so he could slide into the passenger seat.

"Oh. Excuse me! Correction: Go away Ian," she said bitingly.

He didn't move to leave, instead he settled himself beside her and offered her the bottom of his shirt to wipe her tears with, "You know, you make me sad, Cherish."

She pulled a tissue from the box between the seats and looked at him, perplexed.

"You're always so sad and alone it makes me sad," he said in a childlike way, fiddling with his fingers. He waited a second to see if she would react, "I know you don't like me, but I like you, and I wish I could fix whatever's making you sad.  Harper was only trying to fix it too, but I don't think he even knows what the problem is, does he? He says it's like you're trying to forget who you are. I think... he's kinda right, but you're trying to forget whoever died, aren't you?"

He didn't say much else, but sat gently fiddling with his hands, avoiding her gaze and occasionally humming so softly it was barely audible. When the bell rang and he saw Ari approaching the car, he slipped out, beaming at her as he passed.

*Title song by Reverend Horton Heat

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