A Wilby Wonderful Fanfic "Us Loners"
"I'm Buddy. Buddy French."
His name is Buddy French. Sandra's mind reeled, and suddenly she was hit by a wave of long repressed memories.
"Who's that guy over there?"
"His name is Buddy French. He's goes to Wilby."
"God he hot," Sandra flicked a piece of honey blonde hair out of her eyes, trying to look casual while stealing quick little glances at the boy.
"He's a senior too," Deena giggled, fluffing her own peroxide bleached hair. "Way out of our league."
"Not mine," Sandra grinned deviously. "Nobody's out my league."
Deena shrugged, acknowledging the truth in this. Sandra was one of the prettiest girls at Wilby High School, and was very popular with the boys. But it wasn't without sacrifice. Sandra didn't have very many friends, she was volatile and emotional, and her heart was easily broken. But Deena stuck by her because she knew that Sandra needed a friend, and together they were the two hottest girls in Wilby.
"Should I go talk to him?" Sandra pried. "He's by himself. Why is he by himself?"
"One at a time, girl!" Deena held up her hands. "Okay. The truth is, he's kind of a loner. He's really quiet and doesn't really have any friends."
"That's kinda hot!"
"Since when is having no friends hot?"
"I dunno, but if he's such a loser then why is he here?" Sandra wondered. "Katie wouldn't have invited anyone who completely excludes themselves from the scene."
"Katie likes having "pretty" people at her parties," Deena explained. "She thinks it's good for her image or whatever."
"God, you're insightful!"
Deena rolled her eyes, trying to pretend like she didn't hear that every day. "Yeah well I guess I just know people or something. I guess I'm just good at figuring them out."
This entire response was lost on Sandra, because Buddy was looking at them again. "So he's an Islander then?" she wondered allowed.
"Duh he goes to our school! Oh, don't look now, but he's looking over here."
"Still?"
"Yes! Oh my god, Sandy, he's staring right at you!"
Sandra couldn't bear it. She turned her head slightly, and by looking out of the corner of her eye, she realized that Deena was right.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Sandra said determinedly, grabbing an empty shot glass off of the table next to them.
"You go girl!"
"Hey Duck," Sandra called to a very good looking tan boy with spiky blonde hair. "Hit me up, will you?"
Duck grinned and filled her glass with amber tequila from the gigantic glass bottle he was carrying. "Drink up honey!"
She threw it down in one gulp, and she felt her insides burn in response. "Holy shit," she croaked.
"Walk it off baby," Duck grinned, taking a swig out of the bottle. "This shit will hit you hard."
Sandra nodded, and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm going now."
Deena giggled, and shoved her friend into the crowd of people.
Sandra pushed through the masses, fighting to reach her target. She was in fact so set on getting to the other side of the room, that she ran headlong into someone blocking her line of fire. "Sorry," she mumbled, swaying.
"Woah there," a tan hand grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.
She looked up, and a mad fluttering erupted deep in her stomach which she was pretty sure had nothing to do with the alcohol. Standing before her was Buddy French, his dark hair mussed sexily out of it's neat cut, and his deep eyes filled with concern. For her.
"Come on," he murmured, taking her hand. "Lets get you out of here."
He obviously thought she was going to hurl. And for some reason, Sandra found this hysterically funny.
The door opened, and she felt him pushing her out into the night. "Lets sit down," he said, pulling her down onto the concrete porch steps.
"I'm not going to throw up," she grinned.
"Oh...Well I'm sorry then, I was just - "
"No!" she said quickly, grabbing his hand without thinking. "It's-it's okay. I was actually trying to find you." Wow that was lame.
"Oh yeah?" he grinned. "And why's that?"
"You looked lonely. I'm good at making people feel un-lonely."
"You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"I was actually coming over to talk to you."
Sandra smiled, feeling her stomach take off again. "Really?"
"Definitely."
"I was hoping you would."
"But I was taking too long so you took matters into your own hands?"
"Something like that."
He smiled at her, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Want one?"
She nodded, and held out her hand. She'd been trying to quit for a while now, but this opportunity was just too good to miss.
Sandra felt rather sexy as she leaned for ward so he could light her up, the cigarette clasped in her lips.
"So you go to Wilby?" he asked vaguely.
"Yes. I'm a sophomore. My name is-"
"No!" he interrupted her, touching his finger to her lips. "Don't tell me."
Confused, she asked him why.
"If you tell me who you are, I'll begin to tie your name to things I hear in the hall," he explained. "And I want to know you without all of that. I want to know who you really are, not what people think."
She sighed. "People do talk..."
"I know," he said quietly, touching her cheek. "And you seem like the kind of girl that would get talked about a lot."
She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended by this. It must have shown, because he quickly said, "It's not a bad thing! At least, not in the way that I meant it."
"What did you mean then?" She asked curiously.
"I find you...Very compelling."
"Compelling?" she asked dubiously.
"Yes," he paused, and she could see that he was thinking very carefully. "People are drawn to you. Maybe you don't notice it, but others certainly do."
Sandra bit her lip. "That's kind of weird considering I honestly have no friends at school other than Deena."
"I imagine all the girls dislike you," he said thoughtfully.
"Wow, thanks a lot."
He sighed. "You're not getting my point. Your curse is your beauty. Men are drawn to it, and other girls resent it. They resent the fact that just about any guy at Wilby would choose you rather than them. I guess in a word, they're jealous."
Sandra's eyebrows shot up about a foot. "Are you trying to be funny?"
"No," he said simply. "I'm trying to be honest."
"Wow," she said, mulling it over. "You think the reason why I have no friends is because boys like me?"
"I think it's definitely part of it."
"Huh," she thought about this for a moment. "And what do you think?"
"Me?" He asked nervously. "What do you mean?"
Her blue eyes were searching. "Do you feel this way? About me?"
"I find myself undeniably drawn to you, if that is what you mean." He was so honest, and it really touched her.
"Really?" she asked quietly, leaning towards him. "You don't think I'm just another sophomore slut?"
"No. I think there's a lot more to you than that."
"Hmm," she mused. "I guess us loners have to stick together then, Buddy."
"I think-" But he never got to finish. Because in that moment, Sandra was kissing him.
He was the first to break it off. Speechless, he just looked at her, wide eyed and silent.
"Wow," she mumbled, turning away. "I'm sorry, I just-"
"Don't," he said softly, touching her cheek.
"That was way too forward wasn't it?"
"Yes," he admitted, smiling. "But you have a lot of determination. And I really like that,"
"Really?" She whispered.
"Yes." There was fire in his eyes and this time he was the one kissing her.
She never saw Buddy French again. After the party, she had thought about him often, and wished that she could see him, but that occasion never arose. Buddy graduated at the end of that year, and she didn't see him around after that. Rumor was that he had gone to college somewhere else to train for the police force. And after high school, Sandra had moved away, and she didn't come back to Wilby. At least, not until about fifteen years later when she got divorced.
"Hello?" Buddy waved a hand in front of her face. "Is that window incredibly interesting or something?"
He was standing in front of her, and she had been gazing off into space at the window behind him.
"What?" She shook herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just-"
He looked at her expectantly.
"Oh, well, never mind. It doesn't matter."
"What is it?" He sounded very curious now.
"It's just that I think we've met before. A long time ago."
"College?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Further back."
"You know," he said, appraising her with his dark eyes. "You do look really familiar, but I just can't place you with a name."
"I don't need a name," she said quietly. "Because then you would start to tie me to things you would hear, and you might actually start to believe them."
He stared at her for a long time, and then suddenly everything clicked. "You're the girl from the party," he said quietly. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I am."
"I-" he started. "This-"
"You don't have to say anything," she smiled. "I know."
"I just can't believe I've finally found you," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "This is surreal."
"Yes," and now that she looked at him carefully, he did look the same. The details were obviously different with his police uniform and laugh lines, but the fundamentals were still the same. His handsome chiseled features, deep blue eyes and wavy brown hair.
"What's your name?" he asked quietly.
"Do you really want to know?"
"I can't lose you again. I can't let that happen."
"My name is Sandra Anderson," she smiled. "I'm divorced, and I've recently moved back to Wilby. I have a fifteen year old daughter, and I'm known as the town slut. And I still have no friends."
"Us loners have to stick together," Buddy breathed, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.
His name is Buddy French. Sandra's mind reeled, and suddenly she was hit by a wave of long repressed memories.
"Who's that guy over there?"
"His name is Buddy French. He's goes to Wilby."
"God he hot," Sandra flicked a piece of honey blonde hair out of her eyes, trying to look casual while stealing quick little glances at the boy.
"He's a senior too," Deena giggled, fluffing her own peroxide bleached hair. "Way out of our league."
"Not mine," Sandra grinned deviously. "Nobody's out my league."
Deena shrugged, acknowledging the truth in this. Sandra was one of the prettiest girls at Wilby High School, and was very popular with the boys. But it wasn't without sacrifice. Sandra didn't have very many friends, she was volatile and emotional, and her heart was easily broken. But Deena stuck by her because she knew that Sandra needed a friend, and together they were the two hottest girls in Wilby.
"Should I go talk to him?" Sandra pried. "He's by himself. Why is he by himself?"
"One at a time, girl!" Deena held up her hands. "Okay. The truth is, he's kind of a loner. He's really quiet and doesn't really have any friends."
"That's kinda hot!"
"Since when is having no friends hot?"
"I dunno, but if he's such a loser then why is he here?" Sandra wondered. "Katie wouldn't have invited anyone who completely excludes themselves from the scene."
"Katie likes having "pretty" people at her parties," Deena explained. "She thinks it's good for her image or whatever."
"God, you're insightful!"
Deena rolled her eyes, trying to pretend like she didn't hear that every day. "Yeah well I guess I just know people or something. I guess I'm just good at figuring them out."
This entire response was lost on Sandra, because Buddy was looking at them again. "So he's an Islander then?" she wondered allowed.
"Duh he goes to our school! Oh, don't look now, but he's looking over here."
"Still?"
"Yes! Oh my god, Sandy, he's staring right at you!"
Sandra couldn't bear it. She turned her head slightly, and by looking out of the corner of her eye, she realized that Deena was right.
"I'm gonna go talk to him," Sandra said determinedly, grabbing an empty shot glass off of the table next to them.
"You go girl!"
"Hey Duck," Sandra called to a very good looking tan boy with spiky blonde hair. "Hit me up, will you?"
Duck grinned and filled her glass with amber tequila from the gigantic glass bottle he was carrying. "Drink up honey!"
She threw it down in one gulp, and she felt her insides burn in response. "Holy shit," she croaked.
"Walk it off baby," Duck grinned, taking a swig out of the bottle. "This shit will hit you hard."
Sandra nodded, and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm going now."
Deena giggled, and shoved her friend into the crowd of people.
Sandra pushed through the masses, fighting to reach her target. She was in fact so set on getting to the other side of the room, that she ran headlong into someone blocking her line of fire. "Sorry," she mumbled, swaying.
"Woah there," a tan hand grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.
She looked up, and a mad fluttering erupted deep in her stomach which she was pretty sure had nothing to do with the alcohol. Standing before her was Buddy French, his dark hair mussed sexily out of it's neat cut, and his deep eyes filled with concern. For her.
"Come on," he murmured, taking her hand. "Lets get you out of here."
He obviously thought she was going to hurl. And for some reason, Sandra found this hysterically funny.
The door opened, and she felt him pushing her out into the night. "Lets sit down," he said, pulling her down onto the concrete porch steps.
"I'm not going to throw up," she grinned.
"Oh...Well I'm sorry then, I was just - "
"No!" she said quickly, grabbing his hand without thinking. "It's-it's okay. I was actually trying to find you." Wow that was lame.
"Oh yeah?" he grinned. "And why's that?"
"You looked lonely. I'm good at making people feel un-lonely."
"You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"I was actually coming over to talk to you."
Sandra smiled, feeling her stomach take off again. "Really?"
"Definitely."
"I was hoping you would."
"But I was taking too long so you took matters into your own hands?"
"Something like that."
He smiled at her, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Want one?"
She nodded, and held out her hand. She'd been trying to quit for a while now, but this opportunity was just too good to miss.
Sandra felt rather sexy as she leaned for ward so he could light her up, the cigarette clasped in her lips.
"So you go to Wilby?" he asked vaguely.
"Yes. I'm a sophomore. My name is-"
"No!" he interrupted her, touching his finger to her lips. "Don't tell me."
Confused, she asked him why.
"If you tell me who you are, I'll begin to tie your name to things I hear in the hall," he explained. "And I want to know you without all of that. I want to know who you really are, not what people think."
She sighed. "People do talk..."
"I know," he said quietly, touching her cheek. "And you seem like the kind of girl that would get talked about a lot."
She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended by this. It must have shown, because he quickly said, "It's not a bad thing! At least, not in the way that I meant it."
"What did you mean then?" She asked curiously.
"I find you...Very compelling."
"Compelling?" she asked dubiously.
"Yes," he paused, and she could see that he was thinking very carefully. "People are drawn to you. Maybe you don't notice it, but others certainly do."
Sandra bit her lip. "That's kind of weird considering I honestly have no friends at school other than Deena."
"I imagine all the girls dislike you," he said thoughtfully.
"Wow, thanks a lot."
He sighed. "You're not getting my point. Your curse is your beauty. Men are drawn to it, and other girls resent it. They resent the fact that just about any guy at Wilby would choose you rather than them. I guess in a word, they're jealous."
Sandra's eyebrows shot up about a foot. "Are you trying to be funny?"
"No," he said simply. "I'm trying to be honest."
"Wow," she said, mulling it over. "You think the reason why I have no friends is because boys like me?"
"I think it's definitely part of it."
"Huh," she thought about this for a moment. "And what do you think?"
"Me?" He asked nervously. "What do you mean?"
Her blue eyes were searching. "Do you feel this way? About me?"
"I find myself undeniably drawn to you, if that is what you mean." He was so honest, and it really touched her.
"Really?" she asked quietly, leaning towards him. "You don't think I'm just another sophomore slut?"
"No. I think there's a lot more to you than that."
"Hmm," she mused. "I guess us loners have to stick together then, Buddy."
"I think-" But he never got to finish. Because in that moment, Sandra was kissing him.
He was the first to break it off. Speechless, he just looked at her, wide eyed and silent.
"Wow," she mumbled, turning away. "I'm sorry, I just-"
"Don't," he said softly, touching her cheek.
"That was way too forward wasn't it?"
"Yes," he admitted, smiling. "But you have a lot of determination. And I really like that,"
"Really?" She whispered.
"Yes." There was fire in his eyes and this time he was the one kissing her.
She never saw Buddy French again. After the party, she had thought about him often, and wished that she could see him, but that occasion never arose. Buddy graduated at the end of that year, and she didn't see him around after that. Rumor was that he had gone to college somewhere else to train for the police force. And after high school, Sandra had moved away, and she didn't come back to Wilby. At least, not until about fifteen years later when she got divorced.
"Hello?" Buddy waved a hand in front of her face. "Is that window incredibly interesting or something?"
He was standing in front of her, and she had been gazing off into space at the window behind him.
"What?" She shook herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just-"
He looked at her expectantly.
"Oh, well, never mind. It doesn't matter."
"What is it?" He sounded very curious now.
"It's just that I think we've met before. A long time ago."
"College?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Further back."
"You know," he said, appraising her with his dark eyes. "You do look really familiar, but I just can't place you with a name."
"I don't need a name," she said quietly. "Because then you would start to tie me to things you would hear, and you might actually start to believe them."
He stared at her for a long time, and then suddenly everything clicked. "You're the girl from the party," he said quietly. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah," she whispered. "I am."
"I-" he started. "This-"
"You don't have to say anything," she smiled. "I know."
"I just can't believe I've finally found you," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "This is surreal."
"Yes," and now that she looked at him carefully, he did look the same. The details were obviously different with his police uniform and laugh lines, but the fundamentals were still the same. His handsome chiseled features, deep blue eyes and wavy brown hair.
"What's your name?" he asked quietly.
"Do you really want to know?"
"I can't lose you again. I can't let that happen."
"My name is Sandra Anderson," she smiled. "I'm divorced, and I've recently moved back to Wilby. I have a fifteen year old daughter, and I'm known as the town slut. And I still have no friends."
"Us loners have to stick together," Buddy breathed, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.