Fic: Mad World, Chapter 5
In here, a wallflower sees more than others do, sees the danger to Kurt before anyone else . . . and tries to do something before it's too late.
Warning: The violence comes out in this chapter - it isn't fully described, but it is there, and heavily implied besides.
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Chapter 5: Going Nowhere (Previous: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)
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Ida had only been at McKinley High a month, but in that month she'd learned things she never would have considered as necessary to her daily life.
For example: who knew that slushies could stain through not one, not two, but three layers of clothing, and your skin besides? Not something she'd ever expected to have to know. She'd thought the cheerleading skirt in her old school had been pretty damn slutty, but the Cheerios took it to a whole new level - and so she learned that as long as you had on a uniform with school colours, pretty much anything you did was acceptable. This applied to the Cheerios and to their bulky male counterparts, the jocks. While not every jock or Cheerio abused their popularity, it was a highly significant amount that did. The male Cheerios and female jocks were just as likely to ignore the abuse going on as they were to partake in it, and it seemed there was no middle ground.
The sight of a letterman jacket made her cringe slightly, but after her first couple of - what did they call them? . . . Slushie facials, right - well, after two of those, the jocks pretty much let her be. She'd already become just another face in the crowd, and while being invisible was depressing in its own right, it was way better than being a target.
What she didn't know, and had only just recently begun to learn, was exactly how bad the targets had it.
The slushies, the patriotic wedgies, the dumpster tosses and the locker slamming . . . the list went on, and on, and on. She kept her head down, and for the first time in her teen life, she prayed like hell that no one would ever notice her.
She couldn't help but stare when that boy (the one with the great, if not slightly out there, clothes) who she had come to quickly recognize as one of the bigger targets of the school, was pushed so hard he was basically launched into the row of lockers that included her own. Her jaw dropped as she shifted her gaze from him to the jock that did it, and she couldn't believe how no one in the crowd of students was caring. Not a single teacher emerged on the scene, and there were no double takes or noises of outrage - just nothing.
As for the boy himself, he went from shock to anger in less than five seconds. When he pushed himself off the wall to go and give his bully a piece of his mind . . . that was the first time in her entire month at McKinley that she actually felt like she wanted to know someone - to insert herself into the lives of these nameless faces around her. She only hoped that guy didn't end up getting hurt. She briefly considered following, but she couldn't see where he'd disappeared to and nobody else, teacher or student, seemed like they would help.
She had noticed his iPhone on the floor, picked it up and stared at the one word that was still displayed on the screen. Some other boy named Blaine had texted Mr. Fabulous - and all he had to say was 'courage'.
It got an involuntary smile out of her, thought she didn't know why.
She turned the phone in to the office's lost and found, and hoped her well-dressed, potential friend would find it there soon.
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Ida had been listening to the gossip and reading up on her fellow classmates on that blog that the kid with the ginger afro ran - she could put some names to the faces now, though it was hard since she didn't usually make the effort to know people. The one she was most interested in was Kurt Hummel. She occasionally stared at him in envy, jealous of his confidence, because he had to be confident to wear some of the things he did. She knew that the main, if not only reason he was picked on was the fact that he was gay (as stupid a reason as any to pick on anyone) - but she also thought that if he wasn't so self-possessed when he walked these halls, and so unapologetically himself, the bullies of this school wouldn't be so dead-set on bringing him down. All this made her want to get to know him more; he seemed to be so cool, one of the coolest people she'd ever met - except that she hadn't met him, yet.
Now she tried to keep an eye out for him in the hallways - to try and catch sight of him, work up the nerve to say something. It was a sad thing to notice, but the easiest way to find him was to keep her ears attuned to the telltale slam of body meeting locker or floor and, more often than not, there he'd be. But she couldn't say anything those times, even though her heart broke when she saw him slumped down on the floor, decked out in a bright yellow sweater and fantastic yellow boots. She promised herself to say something to him the next day. Well, maybe tomorrow is too soon . . . the day after?
She held tight to that promise two days later as her mother drove her to school; her mom always dropped her off half an hour early and Ida had gotten used to being one of the first students to arrive. A few teachers would smile vague, empty smiles at her, but other than that, she was left alone to wander the halls. The other early starters relegated themselves to the cafeteria or the library and she didn't want to intrude upon their solitude . . . At least that's what she told herself.
But this morning two more students were in the hall - two massive jocks with grim expressions, walking to the principal's office.
She recognized them both: the black guy, Azimio - he'd given her the first of her two 'Welcome to McKinley' slushie facials. Azimio and this other husky jock were Kurt's main tormentors. Ida couldn't help it - she followed them out of curiosity.
She couldn't go into the principal's office, obviously, but she could see through the glass walls, watching as they sat down, and seeing that the Spanish teacher was there too. If she didn't know any better, she would say the two boys were in trouble, but that didn't ever seem to be the case in this school.
She ducked around a corner and waited, pulling out her iPod and plugging into it - but she didn't hit play.
When the two boys burst from the office almost fifteen minutes later, the halls were full of students getting ready for class, but she was close enough to hear what they were saying despite the general racket. They really weren't being quiet with their words.
"I can't believe this bullshit!" Azimio snarled. "That son of bitch!"
"Figgins made him drop the detentions on the days we have practice," the other boy said. "Man, chill out! Schue can't do anything to us and Figgins just proved it!"
"We still have three detentions and that's three more than I've ever gotten for putting a gleek in their place!" Azimio was pacing. "This is such a load of crap." But he was calming down, slowing his angry strides. "Sorry, Dave, man, I'm just - this sucks. Schuester's gunning for us now and that's making me edgy."
"Well, he's a teacher, not the principal!" Dave pointed out. "Just keep your head down around him, and we'll be cool."
Azimio was smiling suddenly. "And I've got a surprise planned for him anyway. Him and his group of gleek freaks."
Dave was rifling through his backpack, taking out a bright red apple and crunching into it, speaking between bites. "I don't know, dude." He was eying his friend speculatively. "If Figgins is gonna back up Schuester even a little on this, we might be in for -"
Azimio waved him off. "Don't worry about it. Seriously, this is all me."
And then the crowd swallowed them up as the first warning bell went off.
Ida stood there for a minute, not sure about what she'd just heard, or why it was replaying over and over in her head. She shrugged it off; this day was just getting off to a weird start, and it was time to move on - she did have first period chemistry to get to. Maybe this time she would actually try to raise her hand and answer questions . . . or maybe not.
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It was after first period that she got her first indication that the weirdness wasn't just an early morning thing.
Another douche in a letterman jacket came strolling down the hall, slushie in hand, and people were freezing, ducking, or simply standing still, shutting their eyes and bracing themselves. Just as he picked his target, letting a grape slushie fly, Mr. Schuester appeared in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes darting back and forth, soon catching sight of the laughing jock and shivering girl - a blonde with braces and acne.
"Hey!"
Ida watched as Mr. Schuester rounded on the jock. "Your name?"
The jock blinked and she felt a bitterly sarcastic comment rise up to her lips to do with his inability to recall his own name, but she swallowed it down.
"Kramer?" Or maybe it was Jake, gee, I don't know sir - mostly I just go by what teacher's call out from the attendance sheets, but since I never go to class . . . She had to smother a giggle.
"Kramer Johnson, you're on my list here." Mr. Schuester waved a clipboard. "You have detention with me, today after school, and I'm calling your parents."
The jock's eyes widened, and he spluttered some lame excuses. The Spanish teacher just stared at him grimly. "Don't worry, you'll be with many of your friends, I'm sure. Actually, I'm looking for Tristan Evans - he tossed Eden Travers into the dumpster today and he'll be one of those joining you in detention as soon as I find him."
For somewhere down the hall, the sound of a locker-slam echoed - and Mr. Schuester took off after it. Ida watched in wide-eyed shock as yet another jock got detention. Seconds later, he stopped a big blond guy, asking his name, and gave him detention too.
Ida couldn't believe it - but then it happened again, after second period. Mr. Schuester prowled the hallways and it wasn't just him. She saw that ridiculously tall football player, Hudson (first name or last, she couldn't recall), actually stop someone from tossing a slushie all over that boy in the wheelchair. And was that the head Cheerio, Quinn, standing in front of a small girl with short, frizzy curls, keeping her safe from a guy and another Cheerio who had clearly come over to hassle her? The Glee club was trying to enforce some law and order and it was . . . rather inspiring.
Had Ida's mother made a mistake and dropped her off at the wrong high school? Or maybe Ida had never woken up at all this morning and she was sleeping through her alarm right now, dreaming.
Her more experienced, embittered side took over, the one bred from years as a wallflower, of being a silent observer. She realized that while this was an unexpected turn of events, it was likely to not work out very well - so far it looked like it was only Mr. Schuester who was willing to put in the effort to stop these bullying creeps, and he couldn't be everywhere at once, or have all the jocks in the school for detention. And the principal only seemed to semi-support him.
Not only that, but Ida felt the tension increasing a thousand fold in the hallways as the day progressed; people were confused and freaking out - jocks were either avoiding the geeks, or being more brutal than usual, teachers were complaining to one another, sniping about Mr. Schuester or arguing that the man had good sense, and she heard more than one person on the phone to their parents. In other words, things were being pushed to a head, and Ida was tempted to fake a stomachache to get sent home. Or maybe not even bother with the stomachache - she'd just come from a class where the teacher had completely missed her name during attendance. She really was invisible.
Then she saw him. Kurt Hummel was walking arm-in-arm with his friend (she had to wrack her brains to remember the girl's - oh, right, Mercedes). She really wanted to talk to them, introduce herself, say she was new and needed some help. Something. Anything.
They were walking past her, and she opened her mouth - but the only sound that emerged was this faded sort of squeak. She frowned to herself as she watched the pair disappear into a classroom.
"That little fag! I bet he's the reason this is happening! He went and cried like a baby to his Glee club daddy and now we're all getting busted for stupid shit!"
She whipped around, seeing the two boys from that morning - Azimio and Dave - and a couple of others, lingering around the boy's bathroom as the bell sounded. A short, stocky olive-skinned jock had been the one to explode first. His other nameless friend tried to calm him down.
"Relax, bro! Schue could be -"
"I don't give a crap! As soon as I get home, I'm telling my mom - she works for a law firm and I know they'll come in here and take care of business."
Dave nodded. "Understood, dude, but don't worry about it right now. We just have to bide our time."
Azimio grinned. "And remember what Kramer said - the fairy's probably going to be transferring soon. Actually, I know he's going to be transferring soon."
"Why? Did Jewfro put up something new on his blog?" Dave asked, bending down to tie his shoes even though the laces were already tied, at least from what she could see.
Dave missed the smirk that spread across his friend's face. "Nah, man, I just believe in the power of positive thinking. You think good thoughts long enough and you can make 'em come true!"
The other boys laughed at that. Dave straightened up after undoing and then retying his laces, a smile on his face too.
Ida realized that, special invisible powers or not, she was now one of a handful of people left in the halls. She did not want to be singled out by these pricks. As she hurried past them, hugging her binder close to her chest, she heard Azimio say, "Listen, you guys need to steer clear of the locker room during last period, okay? I've got a surprise in the works and I need y'all to give me some space."
She didn't hear anything else after that but again, for whatever inexplicable reason, Azimio's words were stuck on repeat in her mind as she headed into Biology.
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Her last period class was History, and she really, really loved it. It was one of her favourite classes and Ms. Deans was a pretty cool teacher. She made it so interesting that even the typically less enthusiastic students didn't try and catch naps, and it looked like some of the jocks considered it socially acceptable to answer questions in this class - whether it was because Ms. Deans was rather attractive, or because she was fun, Ida wasn't sure.
"Thank you, Dave," she was saying as the boy handed her his essay.
"Oh, and here's Azimio's too." Dave gave her another stapled set of papers. "He wasn't feeling too well. I might've given him that bug that made me sick yesterday."
The teacher raised an eyebrow, likely doubting the story, but too good-natured (and maybe too naive) to comment on it. "All right. Let him know that I still need to talk to him about that make-up test."
Ida had forgotten that these two jocks were in her class. She watched as Dave put his bag on the empty seat his friend normally occupied.
She stared at that seat, her mind distracted from Ms. Deans normally engaging introduction for whatever era or historical event they were focusing on for that day.
"And I've got a surprise planned for him anyway. Him and his group of gleek freaks."
She continued to take notes absentmindedly - just grabbing words and dates as she heard them, but not really listening.
" . . . the fairy's probably going to be transferring soon. Actually, I know he's going to be transferring soon."
It was twenty minutes into class and Ida started to get a sick feeling that there was something important that she was missing.
"Listen, you guys need to steer clear of the locker room during last period, okay? I've got a surprise in the works and I need y'all to give me some space."
Her hand was in the air before she even realized it.
"Yes?" Ms. Deans pointed at her, smiling kindly and probably unable to remember her name. Ida didn't blame her for it though - she rarely opened her mouth more than two or three times a day.
"May I go to the bathroom, please?" she asked as politely as she could. Her voice was just above a whisper, but the teacher heard her.
"Of course, let me give you a hall pass."
Ida stood up, wrapping her black hoodie around herself and accepted the hall pass with a twitch of the lips that was her attempt at a smile, shoving the pass into her hoodie's pocket. Then she was out of there, trying to remember where the boy's locker room was. She wasn't too sure what she was doing, or why. All she knew was that her stomach was twisting in knots and that while this might be her paranoia acting up, the way the back of her neck tingled when she thought of Azimio's words . . .
She reached the locker room after a bit of wandering and stood in front of the door, uncertain of herself. She could hear the sound of the showers going, and she really did not want to become known as some kind of pervert that got off on watching boys in the shower or whatever. But really, who would be in the showers in the middle of the period? And it was loud - like more than one going at once.
She steeled herself and pushed into the boy's locker room.
The sound was even louder once she made it past the door, but there was nothing else - no sign of Azimio.
Until she passed by the lockers - then she saw him.
He had his back to her, and she immediately hid around a corner to be able to watch him without being seen herself. He had a can of red spray paint in his hand, and he was putting the finishing touches on his graffiti. The paint was damp, glistening and dripping, the words all in capitals and unmistakable (and that little sarcastic corner of her mind couldn't help but marvel that it was all spelled correctly too).
ZERO TOLERANCE … FOR FAGS!
She bit her lip, wondering if this was all; had Azimio had been so smug and excited about a simple act of vandalism? As she thought this, he turned, making her flinch back, but he wasn't looking in her direction - he was looking down to something on the floor.
The water was going strong from nearly all the showerheads, but there was no steam - meaning it wasn't hot water. This detail became important when she spotted some movement on the floor; two pale hands, tied together with some material she couldn't identify, curling and dragging desperately against the wet tiles.
She had to cover her mouth with both of her own hands to keep a scream from erupting forth.
Kurt Hummel was pulling and dragging himself, sliding forward on his stomach a depressingly scant few inches and clearly in too much pain to do more. He was soaked - his jeans, she could remember, had been dark green when she'd seen him earlier, and now they were practically black. His jacket and vest were gone, his checkered shirt was ripped open, one of the sleeves also coming loose at the shoulder seam, buttons missing, material sticking to his shivering torso . . . He was so white he was practically colourless except for . . .
The red welts and marks that were already turning dark - they were huge and splayed across his chest and what she could see of his sides. His breath was hitching painfully between shivers, and the blood - it covered nearly the entire right side of his face, splashed across what remained of his shirt, staining the tiles and swirling in the water.
"Where are you goin', Hummel?" Azimio splashed through the inch or so of water, putting a firm, sneakered foot onto Kurt's back, pushing him down viciously and preventing him from escaping.
"L-l-leave me alone!" Kurt managed to wheeze out. "S-stop this! Please!"
That last one was more of a cry as Azimio bent down and grabbed him by the legs - it occurred to Ida, randomly, that Kurt's tie was missing too, and suddenly the damp material around his wrists made sense.
"You're bleedin' all over your fancy clothes, princess. Lemme help you with that!"
Kurt was dragged from her sight as Azimio shoved him directly under a showerhead, turning the water up even more, and she could hear Kurt spluttering and coughing. How the . . . When had he managed to grab Kurt? How had no one seen? Why, why was this happening? Why couldn't she move?
"Can't swim, fairy?" Azimio laughed to himself.
Ida somehow managed to push herself away from the wall, away from her hiding place. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She had to run, had to get help - but she couldn't leave him here! What if they didn't listen?! What if they didn't get here fast enough?!
"C'mon, Hummel, wakey wakey." Azimio lashed out with a foot, and the sickening thump it made upon impact, the sound of Kurt choking and crying, that did it.
"Leave him the fuck alone!"
It was deafening to her own ears and echoed just as loudly around the locker room. Azimio slipped and almost fell over in shock when he heard it. His eyes locked onto hers and she felt the urge to run seize her every limb, but she fought it. She stood her ground, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked incredulously, voice going up an octave or two.
She was shaking with fear and anger, her mind scattered to the four winds and her mouth dry, but she managed to speak all the same. "Get the hell away from him and get out of here." She had to raise her voice to be heard over the showers and, aside from that first shout, it was the loudest she'd spoken in years. It felt good. Azimio's eyes narrowed and he started to advance on her. Ida took a step back, raising both her hands, noticing that they were trembling too. "Come near me and I'll scream - you heard how loud I can be! I scream my lungs out and the whole school will come running!"
He paused mid-step, then growled out, "Get the fuck out of here, bitch, this has nothing to do with you!"
"No, I won't leave. How the hell did you think you could get away with this! You told - I mean you actually said to them that - doesn't matter, don't answer." She waved him off, her hands shaking harder. "Just, just stop it!"
He hesitated for a painfully long minute, then seemed to come to a decision and started towards her again. "Man, I'll shut you up myself - ain't no one gonna hear you through the door and down the hall, especially not with all the class doors shut!"
She was gearing up to scream and to run like mad even though it meant that Kurt might . . .
"Only a fucking coward attacks a woman, Azimio," came his high voice, hoarse but audible.
Azimio and Ida both stared in shock as Kurt haltingly pushed himself up, bound hands and all, into a sitting position, leaning uncomfortably against one of the shower cubicles and just out of the reach of the pouring water. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stained red on one side, sending rivulets of water down his face, like tears - maybe they were tears.
But he was glaring hard at Azimio with those eyes of his - they were looking glassy and more gray than blue, but they were also sparking with anger and defiance.
Azimio was turning around, furious.
A part of her marveled at Kurt's ability to rally himself and keep on fighting. Another part of her was mentally yelling 'Shut up, idiot, and stop drawing attention to yourself!' But, then again, even barely knowing him, Ida was certain that Kurt Hummel had never been afraid to draw attention to himself.
She squared her shoulders and called Azimio's focus back onto her, whipping her phone out from the pocket of her hoodie, so grateful that she hadn't put it in her backpack. "I'm not afraid of you - and if you don't get out of here right now, I'm calling the police. Actually, I'm calling the police either way." She dialed quickly and put the phone up to her ear. "So you may want to get a head start."
He freaked out - he launched himself at her, knocking the phone from her hands, sending Ida crashing down to the floor. Kurt was yelling but it wasn't nearly loud enough, and she was trying to scream, but Azimio's weight had her pinned and breathless. Oh God, what if he killed her? What if he killed them both? Why had she been so stupid? Why hadn't she run and screamed right from the start?
"Jesus - Azimio, what the hell?"
Azimio's jock buddy Dave was standing over them, eyes wide in shock. He bent and pulled his friend off her and she tried to scramble away, to stand up and run like crazy, but she was shaking too hard, and her ankle really hurt, too much to put weight on it; she thought she might have twisted it badly when she fell. She crawled backwards onto the wet tiles, almost falling flat on her back from the ice-cold shock of the water.
A pair of wet, bound, slightly pruney hands reached for her own, long white fingers wrapping around her wrist.
She turned to see Kurt only a couple of feet away from her. He murmured softly, "Are you okay?"
Ida had to hold back a hysterical and completely inappropriate giggle - he looked like a talking corpse, white beyond reason and stained with blood and was she okay, he was asking? She couldn't speak right now, couldn't answer, all her bravery, all the adrenaline, whatever it was that helped her hold her ground against that asshole, it was gone and she wanted to cry. She wanted her mom, so, so badly.
"Azimio, fuck, what -"
Her eyes went back to the two huge boys. She squeezed Kurt's hands hard as she watched them.
Azimio pushed Dave. "Fuck you! I told you to stay away from here!"
"Shit, Azimio, you're fucked now, you know that!" Dave yelled, pushing him back. "They're going to tell everyone, and you're going to get kicked out - Jesus, you might even go to jail. Do you realize what the hell you've done?"
Azimio was shaking his head frantically. "Damnit, I'm not going to jail! Or, I mean - fuck, it was just supposed to be a message! For Schuester and the rest of the Fag Pride Parade in Glee and, and to get Hummel the fuck out of here!"
"I'm stupid, but I'm not this stupid," Dave ground out. "When I was thinkin' of roughing Hummel up, it was mostly bullshit, man, because there's no way we'd get away with that kind of crap - he'd tell on us as soon as he came to and how long 'til his Glee buddies point the fingers at us! Holy fuck -"
Ida had no idea what any of this crap meant for her and Kurt, but to hear them talking about it had her scooting back closer to him. He was shivering, the freezing water lapping against them both. He was also slipping a little, like he couldn't sit up anymore. When she turned to look at him, his eyelids were fluttering - and then he leaned over alarmingly fast, so fast it had to be painful, to throw up all over his lap. As soon as it was over, he was groaning quietly, coughing and then convulsing from some dry heaves. Ida recalled that this was one of the symptoms of a concussion, but had no clue what to do about it.
She rubbed at his back, trying to be soothing, gentle because she didn't know if there were even more horrible injuries under her hand, beneath the drenched and torn shirt. He had tears pouring down his face for sure this time - but he was oddly silent about the whole thing.
She looked up to glare at the two fucking bastards, seeing that both of them were staring at Kurt.
"Get the fuck out of here, man," Dave said finally, his gaze shifting to his feet. "Seriously, get the fuck out of here. I'll try and cover for you. It probably won't work but -"
"I'm not going to -"
"JUST GO!" Dave's roar was powerful and frightening. Kurt jerked a little, an arm coming to brace his no doubt aching ribs. Ida pressed herself even closer to his side.
Azimio took off, swearing under his breath and running at breakneck speed.
Then things were strangely quiet - with the exception of the too-loud showerheads. Dave stood there for a moment, scanning his surroundings before bending over, picking up her phone from underneath a bench. Ida watched, not knowing what the hell to think, her observer's brain completely shut down and all inner commentaries silenced. He moved quickly, shutting off the showers and then flicking his eyes up to the graffiti, staying there for a few seconds. He turned away from it without a sound, coming to stand over them both.
Kurt was shivering much harder now, covered in blood and vomit, wrists tied together. But he was glaring defiantly at this new threat and this Dave guy was staring right back. It was a bizarre mirror to that vicious locker-slamming that had happened so many days ago - her caught in the middle, just barely on the sidelines, with these two on either side of her.
It went on for what felt like hours.
Dave licked his lips once and he broke the staring contest, looking at her for the first time since he came in. His eyes were dark and his face was expressionless. He held out her phone to her wordlessly, waiting until she reached up and grabbed it from him.
"Get help. Tell them everything . . . just, don't . . . I was never here." He said the last part not as a threat - it was too low, his voice cracking and thick - so it almost sounded like a plea, but she didn't want to go that far and humanize this prick. Dave whipped around, splashing and then stomping his way out.
Now it was the silence that was deafening.
Kurt had had enough apparently, because he moaned softly, slumping over until his head was in her lap, and he was splayed out, one bruised, bleeding, shuddering, wet mess all over the floor.
Ida stared at her phone, forgetting how to use the damn thing, stroking his hair as tenderly as she could. She began dialing as she finally felt her brain clicking back on again. She murmured random comforting things - things said to her after nightmares, accompanied by a warm glass of milk, when she was younger and smaller and . . . She heard a small whimper, but it wasn't from Kurt - he was unconscious. Her tears were hot and salty and she couldn't stop crying - her chest began to heave with sobs.
"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: *is nervous* This chapter was just as tough to write as the previous one, though infinitely more enjoyable, since I wasn't writing from the POV of a jackass. Apologies if this a bit too much for anyone, and thank you once again to everyone reading!
Next: Chapter 6: No Expression
Warning: The violence comes out in this chapter - it isn't fully described, but it is there, and heavily implied besides.
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Chapter 5: Going Nowhere (Previous: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)
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Ida had only been at McKinley High a month, but in that month she'd learned things she never would have considered as necessary to her daily life.
For example: who knew that slushies could stain through not one, not two, but three layers of clothing, and your skin besides? Not something she'd ever expected to have to know. She'd thought the cheerleading skirt in her old school had been pretty damn slutty, but the Cheerios took it to a whole new level - and so she learned that as long as you had on a uniform with school colours, pretty much anything you did was acceptable. This applied to the Cheerios and to their bulky male counterparts, the jocks. While not every jock or Cheerio abused their popularity, it was a highly significant amount that did. The male Cheerios and female jocks were just as likely to ignore the abuse going on as they were to partake in it, and it seemed there was no middle ground.
The sight of a letterman jacket made her cringe slightly, but after her first couple of - what did they call them? . . . Slushie facials, right - well, after two of those, the jocks pretty much let her be. She'd already become just another face in the crowd, and while being invisible was depressing in its own right, it was way better than being a target.
What she didn't know, and had only just recently begun to learn, was exactly how bad the targets had it.
The slushies, the patriotic wedgies, the dumpster tosses and the locker slamming . . . the list went on, and on, and on. She kept her head down, and for the first time in her teen life, she prayed like hell that no one would ever notice her.
She couldn't help but stare when that boy (the one with the great, if not slightly out there, clothes) who she had come to quickly recognize as one of the bigger targets of the school, was pushed so hard he was basically launched into the row of lockers that included her own. Her jaw dropped as she shifted her gaze from him to the jock that did it, and she couldn't believe how no one in the crowd of students was caring. Not a single teacher emerged on the scene, and there were no double takes or noises of outrage - just nothing.
As for the boy himself, he went from shock to anger in less than five seconds. When he pushed himself off the wall to go and give his bully a piece of his mind . . . that was the first time in her entire month at McKinley that she actually felt like she wanted to know someone - to insert herself into the lives of these nameless faces around her. She only hoped that guy didn't end up getting hurt. She briefly considered following, but she couldn't see where he'd disappeared to and nobody else, teacher or student, seemed like they would help.
She had noticed his iPhone on the floor, picked it up and stared at the one word that was still displayed on the screen. Some other boy named Blaine had texted Mr. Fabulous - and all he had to say was 'courage'.
It got an involuntary smile out of her, thought she didn't know why.
She turned the phone in to the office's lost and found, and hoped her well-dressed, potential friend would find it there soon.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ida had been listening to the gossip and reading up on her fellow classmates on that blog that the kid with the ginger afro ran - she could put some names to the faces now, though it was hard since she didn't usually make the effort to know people. The one she was most interested in was Kurt Hummel. She occasionally stared at him in envy, jealous of his confidence, because he had to be confident to wear some of the things he did. She knew that the main, if not only reason he was picked on was the fact that he was gay (as stupid a reason as any to pick on anyone) - but she also thought that if he wasn't so self-possessed when he walked these halls, and so unapologetically himself, the bullies of this school wouldn't be so dead-set on bringing him down. All this made her want to get to know him more; he seemed to be so cool, one of the coolest people she'd ever met - except that she hadn't met him, yet.
Now she tried to keep an eye out for him in the hallways - to try and catch sight of him, work up the nerve to say something. It was a sad thing to notice, but the easiest way to find him was to keep her ears attuned to the telltale slam of body meeting locker or floor and, more often than not, there he'd be. But she couldn't say anything those times, even though her heart broke when she saw him slumped down on the floor, decked out in a bright yellow sweater and fantastic yellow boots. She promised herself to say something to him the next day. Well, maybe tomorrow is too soon . . . the day after?
She held tight to that promise two days later as her mother drove her to school; her mom always dropped her off half an hour early and Ida had gotten used to being one of the first students to arrive. A few teachers would smile vague, empty smiles at her, but other than that, she was left alone to wander the halls. The other early starters relegated themselves to the cafeteria or the library and she didn't want to intrude upon their solitude . . . At least that's what she told herself.
But this morning two more students were in the hall - two massive jocks with grim expressions, walking to the principal's office.
She recognized them both: the black guy, Azimio - he'd given her the first of her two 'Welcome to McKinley' slushie facials. Azimio and this other husky jock were Kurt's main tormentors. Ida couldn't help it - she followed them out of curiosity.
She couldn't go into the principal's office, obviously, but she could see through the glass walls, watching as they sat down, and seeing that the Spanish teacher was there too. If she didn't know any better, she would say the two boys were in trouble, but that didn't ever seem to be the case in this school.
She ducked around a corner and waited, pulling out her iPod and plugging into it - but she didn't hit play.
When the two boys burst from the office almost fifteen minutes later, the halls were full of students getting ready for class, but she was close enough to hear what they were saying despite the general racket. They really weren't being quiet with their words.
"I can't believe this bullshit!" Azimio snarled. "That son of bitch!"
"Figgins made him drop the detentions on the days we have practice," the other boy said. "Man, chill out! Schue can't do anything to us and Figgins just proved it!"
"We still have three detentions and that's three more than I've ever gotten for putting a gleek in their place!" Azimio was pacing. "This is such a load of crap." But he was calming down, slowing his angry strides. "Sorry, Dave, man, I'm just - this sucks. Schuester's gunning for us now and that's making me edgy."
"Well, he's a teacher, not the principal!" Dave pointed out. "Just keep your head down around him, and we'll be cool."
Azimio was smiling suddenly. "And I've got a surprise planned for him anyway. Him and his group of gleek freaks."
Dave was rifling through his backpack, taking out a bright red apple and crunching into it, speaking between bites. "I don't know, dude." He was eying his friend speculatively. "If Figgins is gonna back up Schuester even a little on this, we might be in for -"
Azimio waved him off. "Don't worry about it. Seriously, this is all me."
And then the crowd swallowed them up as the first warning bell went off.
Ida stood there for a minute, not sure about what she'd just heard, or why it was replaying over and over in her head. She shrugged it off; this day was just getting off to a weird start, and it was time to move on - she did have first period chemistry to get to. Maybe this time she would actually try to raise her hand and answer questions . . . or maybe not.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was after first period that she got her first indication that the weirdness wasn't just an early morning thing.
Another douche in a letterman jacket came strolling down the hall, slushie in hand, and people were freezing, ducking, or simply standing still, shutting their eyes and bracing themselves. Just as he picked his target, letting a grape slushie fly, Mr. Schuester appeared in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes darting back and forth, soon catching sight of the laughing jock and shivering girl - a blonde with braces and acne.
"Hey!"
Ida watched as Mr. Schuester rounded on the jock. "Your name?"
The jock blinked and she felt a bitterly sarcastic comment rise up to her lips to do with his inability to recall his own name, but she swallowed it down.
"Kramer?" Or maybe it was Jake, gee, I don't know sir - mostly I just go by what teacher's call out from the attendance sheets, but since I never go to class . . . She had to smother a giggle.
"Kramer Johnson, you're on my list here." Mr. Schuester waved a clipboard. "You have detention with me, today after school, and I'm calling your parents."
The jock's eyes widened, and he spluttered some lame excuses. The Spanish teacher just stared at him grimly. "Don't worry, you'll be with many of your friends, I'm sure. Actually, I'm looking for Tristan Evans - he tossed Eden Travers into the dumpster today and he'll be one of those joining you in detention as soon as I find him."
For somewhere down the hall, the sound of a locker-slam echoed - and Mr. Schuester took off after it. Ida watched in wide-eyed shock as yet another jock got detention. Seconds later, he stopped a big blond guy, asking his name, and gave him detention too.
Ida couldn't believe it - but then it happened again, after second period. Mr. Schuester prowled the hallways and it wasn't just him. She saw that ridiculously tall football player, Hudson (first name or last, she couldn't recall), actually stop someone from tossing a slushie all over that boy in the wheelchair. And was that the head Cheerio, Quinn, standing in front of a small girl with short, frizzy curls, keeping her safe from a guy and another Cheerio who had clearly come over to hassle her? The Glee club was trying to enforce some law and order and it was . . . rather inspiring.
Had Ida's mother made a mistake and dropped her off at the wrong high school? Or maybe Ida had never woken up at all this morning and she was sleeping through her alarm right now, dreaming.
Her more experienced, embittered side took over, the one bred from years as a wallflower, of being a silent observer. She realized that while this was an unexpected turn of events, it was likely to not work out very well - so far it looked like it was only Mr. Schuester who was willing to put in the effort to stop these bullying creeps, and he couldn't be everywhere at once, or have all the jocks in the school for detention. And the principal only seemed to semi-support him.
Not only that, but Ida felt the tension increasing a thousand fold in the hallways as the day progressed; people were confused and freaking out - jocks were either avoiding the geeks, or being more brutal than usual, teachers were complaining to one another, sniping about Mr. Schuester or arguing that the man had good sense, and she heard more than one person on the phone to their parents. In other words, things were being pushed to a head, and Ida was tempted to fake a stomachache to get sent home. Or maybe not even bother with the stomachache - she'd just come from a class where the teacher had completely missed her name during attendance. She really was invisible.
Then she saw him. Kurt Hummel was walking arm-in-arm with his friend (she had to wrack her brains to remember the girl's - oh, right, Mercedes). She really wanted to talk to them, introduce herself, say she was new and needed some help. Something. Anything.
They were walking past her, and she opened her mouth - but the only sound that emerged was this faded sort of squeak. She frowned to herself as she watched the pair disappear into a classroom.
"That little fag! I bet he's the reason this is happening! He went and cried like a baby to his Glee club daddy and now we're all getting busted for stupid shit!"
She whipped around, seeing the two boys from that morning - Azimio and Dave - and a couple of others, lingering around the boy's bathroom as the bell sounded. A short, stocky olive-skinned jock had been the one to explode first. His other nameless friend tried to calm him down.
"Relax, bro! Schue could be -"
"I don't give a crap! As soon as I get home, I'm telling my mom - she works for a law firm and I know they'll come in here and take care of business."
Dave nodded. "Understood, dude, but don't worry about it right now. We just have to bide our time."
Azimio grinned. "And remember what Kramer said - the fairy's probably going to be transferring soon. Actually, I know he's going to be transferring soon."
"Why? Did Jewfro put up something new on his blog?" Dave asked, bending down to tie his shoes even though the laces were already tied, at least from what she could see.
Dave missed the smirk that spread across his friend's face. "Nah, man, I just believe in the power of positive thinking. You think good thoughts long enough and you can make 'em come true!"
The other boys laughed at that. Dave straightened up after undoing and then retying his laces, a smile on his face too.
Ida realized that, special invisible powers or not, she was now one of a handful of people left in the halls. She did not want to be singled out by these pricks. As she hurried past them, hugging her binder close to her chest, she heard Azimio say, "Listen, you guys need to steer clear of the locker room during last period, okay? I've got a surprise in the works and I need y'all to give me some space."
She didn't hear anything else after that but again, for whatever inexplicable reason, Azimio's words were stuck on repeat in her mind as she headed into Biology.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Her last period class was History, and she really, really loved it. It was one of her favourite classes and Ms. Deans was a pretty cool teacher. She made it so interesting that even the typically less enthusiastic students didn't try and catch naps, and it looked like some of the jocks considered it socially acceptable to answer questions in this class - whether it was because Ms. Deans was rather attractive, or because she was fun, Ida wasn't sure.
"Thank you, Dave," she was saying as the boy handed her his essay.
"Oh, and here's Azimio's too." Dave gave her another stapled set of papers. "He wasn't feeling too well. I might've given him that bug that made me sick yesterday."
The teacher raised an eyebrow, likely doubting the story, but too good-natured (and maybe too naive) to comment on it. "All right. Let him know that I still need to talk to him about that make-up test."
Ida had forgotten that these two jocks were in her class. She watched as Dave put his bag on the empty seat his friend normally occupied.
She stared at that seat, her mind distracted from Ms. Deans normally engaging introduction for whatever era or historical event they were focusing on for that day.
"And I've got a surprise planned for him anyway. Him and his group of gleek freaks."
She continued to take notes absentmindedly - just grabbing words and dates as she heard them, but not really listening.
" . . . the fairy's probably going to be transferring soon. Actually, I know he's going to be transferring soon."
It was twenty minutes into class and Ida started to get a sick feeling that there was something important that she was missing.
"Listen, you guys need to steer clear of the locker room during last period, okay? I've got a surprise in the works and I need y'all to give me some space."
Her hand was in the air before she even realized it.
"Yes?" Ms. Deans pointed at her, smiling kindly and probably unable to remember her name. Ida didn't blame her for it though - she rarely opened her mouth more than two or three times a day.
"May I go to the bathroom, please?" she asked as politely as she could. Her voice was just above a whisper, but the teacher heard her.
"Of course, let me give you a hall pass."
Ida stood up, wrapping her black hoodie around herself and accepted the hall pass with a twitch of the lips that was her attempt at a smile, shoving the pass into her hoodie's pocket. Then she was out of there, trying to remember where the boy's locker room was. She wasn't too sure what she was doing, or why. All she knew was that her stomach was twisting in knots and that while this might be her paranoia acting up, the way the back of her neck tingled when she thought of Azimio's words . . .
She reached the locker room after a bit of wandering and stood in front of the door, uncertain of herself. She could hear the sound of the showers going, and she really did not want to become known as some kind of pervert that got off on watching boys in the shower or whatever. But really, who would be in the showers in the middle of the period? And it was loud - like more than one going at once.
She steeled herself and pushed into the boy's locker room.
The sound was even louder once she made it past the door, but there was nothing else - no sign of Azimio.
Until she passed by the lockers - then she saw him.
He had his back to her, and she immediately hid around a corner to be able to watch him without being seen herself. He had a can of red spray paint in his hand, and he was putting the finishing touches on his graffiti. The paint was damp, glistening and dripping, the words all in capitals and unmistakable (and that little sarcastic corner of her mind couldn't help but marvel that it was all spelled correctly too).
ZERO TOLERANCE … FOR FAGS!
She bit her lip, wondering if this was all; had Azimio had been so smug and excited about a simple act of vandalism? As she thought this, he turned, making her flinch back, but he wasn't looking in her direction - he was looking down to something on the floor.
The water was going strong from nearly all the showerheads, but there was no steam - meaning it wasn't hot water. This detail became important when she spotted some movement on the floor; two pale hands, tied together with some material she couldn't identify, curling and dragging desperately against the wet tiles.
She had to cover her mouth with both of her own hands to keep a scream from erupting forth.
Kurt Hummel was pulling and dragging himself, sliding forward on his stomach a depressingly scant few inches and clearly in too much pain to do more. He was soaked - his jeans, she could remember, had been dark green when she'd seen him earlier, and now they were practically black. His jacket and vest were gone, his checkered shirt was ripped open, one of the sleeves also coming loose at the shoulder seam, buttons missing, material sticking to his shivering torso . . . He was so white he was practically colourless except for . . .
The red welts and marks that were already turning dark - they were huge and splayed across his chest and what she could see of his sides. His breath was hitching painfully between shivers, and the blood - it covered nearly the entire right side of his face, splashed across what remained of his shirt, staining the tiles and swirling in the water.
"Where are you goin', Hummel?" Azimio splashed through the inch or so of water, putting a firm, sneakered foot onto Kurt's back, pushing him down viciously and preventing him from escaping.
"L-l-leave me alone!" Kurt managed to wheeze out. "S-stop this! Please!"
That last one was more of a cry as Azimio bent down and grabbed him by the legs - it occurred to Ida, randomly, that Kurt's tie was missing too, and suddenly the damp material around his wrists made sense.
"You're bleedin' all over your fancy clothes, princess. Lemme help you with that!"
Kurt was dragged from her sight as Azimio shoved him directly under a showerhead, turning the water up even more, and she could hear Kurt spluttering and coughing. How the . . . When had he managed to grab Kurt? How had no one seen? Why, why was this happening? Why couldn't she move?
"Can't swim, fairy?" Azimio laughed to himself.
Ida somehow managed to push herself away from the wall, away from her hiding place. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She had to run, had to get help - but she couldn't leave him here! What if they didn't listen?! What if they didn't get here fast enough?!
"C'mon, Hummel, wakey wakey." Azimio lashed out with a foot, and the sickening thump it made upon impact, the sound of Kurt choking and crying, that did it.
"Leave him the fuck alone!"
It was deafening to her own ears and echoed just as loudly around the locker room. Azimio slipped and almost fell over in shock when he heard it. His eyes locked onto hers and she felt the urge to run seize her every limb, but she fought it. She stood her ground, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked incredulously, voice going up an octave or two.
She was shaking with fear and anger, her mind scattered to the four winds and her mouth dry, but she managed to speak all the same. "Get the hell away from him and get out of here." She had to raise her voice to be heard over the showers and, aside from that first shout, it was the loudest she'd spoken in years. It felt good. Azimio's eyes narrowed and he started to advance on her. Ida took a step back, raising both her hands, noticing that they were trembling too. "Come near me and I'll scream - you heard how loud I can be! I scream my lungs out and the whole school will come running!"
He paused mid-step, then growled out, "Get the fuck out of here, bitch, this has nothing to do with you!"
"No, I won't leave. How the hell did you think you could get away with this! You told - I mean you actually said to them that - doesn't matter, don't answer." She waved him off, her hands shaking harder. "Just, just stop it!"
He hesitated for a painfully long minute, then seemed to come to a decision and started towards her again. "Man, I'll shut you up myself - ain't no one gonna hear you through the door and down the hall, especially not with all the class doors shut!"
She was gearing up to scream and to run like mad even though it meant that Kurt might . . .
"Only a fucking coward attacks a woman, Azimio," came his high voice, hoarse but audible.
Azimio and Ida both stared in shock as Kurt haltingly pushed himself up, bound hands and all, into a sitting position, leaning uncomfortably against one of the shower cubicles and just out of the reach of the pouring water. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stained red on one side, sending rivulets of water down his face, like tears - maybe they were tears.
But he was glaring hard at Azimio with those eyes of his - they were looking glassy and more gray than blue, but they were also sparking with anger and defiance.
Azimio was turning around, furious.
A part of her marveled at Kurt's ability to rally himself and keep on fighting. Another part of her was mentally yelling 'Shut up, idiot, and stop drawing attention to yourself!' But, then again, even barely knowing him, Ida was certain that Kurt Hummel had never been afraid to draw attention to himself.
She squared her shoulders and called Azimio's focus back onto her, whipping her phone out from the pocket of her hoodie, so grateful that she hadn't put it in her backpack. "I'm not afraid of you - and if you don't get out of here right now, I'm calling the police. Actually, I'm calling the police either way." She dialed quickly and put the phone up to her ear. "So you may want to get a head start."
He freaked out - he launched himself at her, knocking the phone from her hands, sending Ida crashing down to the floor. Kurt was yelling but it wasn't nearly loud enough, and she was trying to scream, but Azimio's weight had her pinned and breathless. Oh God, what if he killed her? What if he killed them both? Why had she been so stupid? Why hadn't she run and screamed right from the start?
"Jesus - Azimio, what the hell?"
Azimio's jock buddy Dave was standing over them, eyes wide in shock. He bent and pulled his friend off her and she tried to scramble away, to stand up and run like crazy, but she was shaking too hard, and her ankle really hurt, too much to put weight on it; she thought she might have twisted it badly when she fell. She crawled backwards onto the wet tiles, almost falling flat on her back from the ice-cold shock of the water.
A pair of wet, bound, slightly pruney hands reached for her own, long white fingers wrapping around her wrist.
She turned to see Kurt only a couple of feet away from her. He murmured softly, "Are you okay?"
Ida had to hold back a hysterical and completely inappropriate giggle - he looked like a talking corpse, white beyond reason and stained with blood and was she okay, he was asking? She couldn't speak right now, couldn't answer, all her bravery, all the adrenaline, whatever it was that helped her hold her ground against that asshole, it was gone and she wanted to cry. She wanted her mom, so, so badly.
"Azimio, fuck, what -"
Her eyes went back to the two huge boys. She squeezed Kurt's hands hard as she watched them.
Azimio pushed Dave. "Fuck you! I told you to stay away from here!"
"Shit, Azimio, you're fucked now, you know that!" Dave yelled, pushing him back. "They're going to tell everyone, and you're going to get kicked out - Jesus, you might even go to jail. Do you realize what the hell you've done?"
Azimio was shaking his head frantically. "Damnit, I'm not going to jail! Or, I mean - fuck, it was just supposed to be a message! For Schuester and the rest of the Fag Pride Parade in Glee and, and to get Hummel the fuck out of here!"
"I'm stupid, but I'm not this stupid," Dave ground out. "When I was thinkin' of roughing Hummel up, it was mostly bullshit, man, because there's no way we'd get away with that kind of crap - he'd tell on us as soon as he came to and how long 'til his Glee buddies point the fingers at us! Holy fuck -"
Ida had no idea what any of this crap meant for her and Kurt, but to hear them talking about it had her scooting back closer to him. He was shivering, the freezing water lapping against them both. He was also slipping a little, like he couldn't sit up anymore. When she turned to look at him, his eyelids were fluttering - and then he leaned over alarmingly fast, so fast it had to be painful, to throw up all over his lap. As soon as it was over, he was groaning quietly, coughing and then convulsing from some dry heaves. Ida recalled that this was one of the symptoms of a concussion, but had no clue what to do about it.
She rubbed at his back, trying to be soothing, gentle because she didn't know if there were even more horrible injuries under her hand, beneath the drenched and torn shirt. He had tears pouring down his face for sure this time - but he was oddly silent about the whole thing.
She looked up to glare at the two fucking bastards, seeing that both of them were staring at Kurt.
"Get the fuck out of here, man," Dave said finally, his gaze shifting to his feet. "Seriously, get the fuck out of here. I'll try and cover for you. It probably won't work but -"
"I'm not going to -"
"JUST GO!" Dave's roar was powerful and frightening. Kurt jerked a little, an arm coming to brace his no doubt aching ribs. Ida pressed herself even closer to his side.
Azimio took off, swearing under his breath and running at breakneck speed.
Then things were strangely quiet - with the exception of the too-loud showerheads. Dave stood there for a moment, scanning his surroundings before bending over, picking up her phone from underneath a bench. Ida watched, not knowing what the hell to think, her observer's brain completely shut down and all inner commentaries silenced. He moved quickly, shutting off the showers and then flicking his eyes up to the graffiti, staying there for a few seconds. He turned away from it without a sound, coming to stand over them both.
Kurt was shivering much harder now, covered in blood and vomit, wrists tied together. But he was glaring defiantly at this new threat and this Dave guy was staring right back. It was a bizarre mirror to that vicious locker-slamming that had happened so many days ago - her caught in the middle, just barely on the sidelines, with these two on either side of her.
It went on for what felt like hours.
Dave licked his lips once and he broke the staring contest, looking at her for the first time since he came in. His eyes were dark and his face was expressionless. He held out her phone to her wordlessly, waiting until she reached up and grabbed it from him.
"Get help. Tell them everything . . . just, don't . . . I was never here." He said the last part not as a threat - it was too low, his voice cracking and thick - so it almost sounded like a plea, but she didn't want to go that far and humanize this prick. Dave whipped around, splashing and then stomping his way out.
Now it was the silence that was deafening.
Kurt had had enough apparently, because he moaned softly, slumping over until his head was in her lap, and he was splayed out, one bruised, bleeding, shuddering, wet mess all over the floor.
Ida stared at her phone, forgetting how to use the damn thing, stroking his hair as tenderly as she could. She began dialing as she finally felt her brain clicking back on again. She murmured random comforting things - things said to her after nightmares, accompanied by a warm glass of milk, when she was younger and smaller and . . . She heard a small whimper, but it wasn't from Kurt - he was unconscious. Her tears were hot and salty and she couldn't stop crying - her chest began to heave with sobs.
"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: *is nervous* This chapter was just as tough to write as the previous one, though infinitely more enjoyable, since I wasn't writing from the POV of a jackass. Apologies if this a bit too much for anyone, and thank you once again to everyone reading!
Next: Chapter 6: No Expression