Chapter 14

A couple of minutes before lunch and Mr. Beagle droned to a mildly brain-dead class about volatile chemical bonds. Safely behind a heavyweight wrestler, Mimi stared at the sheet of parchment again.

"In dream I see her…"

This must be some mistake, she thought. She'd never gotten anything like this in her life. Maybe there was another Mimi somewhere in the school and whoever wrote this meant it for her. She fingered the elegant writing.

But nothing's wrong with a little hope, was there?

She lay the note down on her desk and smoothed it with her hand. Now, just suppose it was for her… Then, who possibly could have sent it? Hmmm, she inwardly giggled, there was that cute photographer from the newspaper. They often made funny faces and flirted with each other, while the editor nitpicked their work. But Luis had the vocabulary of a five-year-old. He was sweet, but logistically speaking… no.

Who else? Ah, Matthew from Health class. They'd been parents of little Nell - a 1.7 oz. chicken egg. Their baby had lived to a ripe old age of two weeks, before a suicidal dive off her locker shelf. Matthew had helped gather up the remains and performed an informal funeral service with family only. They'd never laughed so hard in their lives. Afterwards, they pulled themselves together long enough to write a report about the trauma of losing a child. Matthew was definitely a cutie with brains. So, there's a definite possibility.

"…eyes smolder pools of fire…"

Mimi sighed again. Of course, there was also Brian from Drama Club with tons of Shakespeare experience, Stefan from Study Hall, Patrick from five lockers down…

"…lips glisten dews of rose…"

Of course, it could be a boy she's never met. A true secret admirer. In that case, who knows who it could be.

Or worst-case scenario, this could be a setup for a prank. Now, that would just suck.

"…hair cascades waves of dawn…"

She sighed again and flipped the card over and over in her hand. Would be a shame, though… for such great writing-

She inwardly gasped. It couldn't possibly… No way. Jerk of the century couldn't possibly… She shook her head and laughed at herself. That'd be rich, wouldn't it? As far as she was concerned, the Pope was more likely to have written it than that buffoon.

When the lunchtime bell rang, she sighed in relief and gathered her books.

"…So proud we hail from thee, oh Salem High."

After the director cut the last note, the choir let out a reflex breath, before light chuckles spread across the auditorium. "Alright, alright," chided the director, tapping her baton for attention. "Could we show a little more respect to your alma mater?" In response to the groans, she smiled. "Now, once more and then I'll let you go. Now, sopranos, less trills at the end of the final crescendo, and alto twos, gentler during the refrain, people. We can hardly hear the baritones. And tenors, we'll need those diaphragm exercises again…"

The boys groaned and rolled their eyes. How ridiculous was puffing your chest out like a girl and breathing heavy, like you were heat? The jocks already made fun of them, as it is.

"Can we say, blackmail video?" whispered Stacey, a fellow first soprano.

Chloe chuckled and prepared for another round of the dreaded school song, when she spotted familiar blond streaks shifting in his chair in the back row. When he gave her a little wave, she heard several girls swoon in envy. She rolled her eyes but hid a growing blush. This was a rare treat, even though he was in between seasons. Watching choir practice had to be one of the most boring and sometimes deafening pastimes. But there he sat, grinning like a jester.

After the director dismissed everyone, Philip stood to meet her halfway.

"Hi," she said, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, beautiful. You sounded great," he smiled, as he threw an arm around her shoulder and led the way out of the auditorium.

She tilted her head in skepticism. "Sure, Philip. You could pick me out of twenty other sopranos?"

"Of course," he fibbed with angelic eyes.

Not fooled for one minute, she shook her head, "So, what're you doing here?"

They reached her locker, and he automatically opened it for her. "What? Can't a guy escort his girl home? Maybe do a little necking along the way?"

"Ah," she grinned, "The truth comes out."

He helped her into her coat. "Ready?"

"Yep," she replied, after she loaded her backpack with the necessary books and closed her locker.

They stepped out into the cold blistery wind and walked toward the Wesley house.

"I thought you'd be playing hockey with the guys today," she commented conversationally.

"They're playing on the pond at the park. I might go by later."

"Naughty, naughty. Brushing off your homies to be with your chick."

She'd said that with such a straight face that Philip paused a moment, before he broke into laughter. Before long, Chloe laughed with him.

"It's just you haven't been able to spend a lot of time with your friends lately, and they probably feel jilted," she explained.

"Ok, ok," he chuckled, "I promise to head over there, as soon as I drop my 'chick' off."

She kissed him on the cheek.

His brow rose. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

She leaned against him, so her face was slightly concealed. "Plus, I should start on my history report, and you're a dangerous distraction." Her eyes met his then, batting her lashes.

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned and stopped before her front gate. "Dangerous, huh?"

"Yeah…" and she pulled his lips toward hers to prove it.

His arms bounded around her, almost lifting her off the ground. Breaking for air, she rested her cheek on his chest. He ran his hands up and down her back. "You sure you don't want me to hang around?" he asked.

She hugged him and gave him a departing kiss. "Have fun, Philip." Then, she disappeared into her house.

His stomach in knots, he sighed. Then, he chuckled at himself and ran both his hands through his hair. Women, he thought, before he started the trek toward the park to join his "homies."

Peeking from behind the curtains, Chloe saw the coast was clear. She grinned. Men. They were so easy. She grabbed her purse and snuck back out of the house, headed for Salem Place.

With the huge shopping bag in hand, Chloe smiled in accomplishment. She'd called earlier to have it put aside, so no one else could buy it. Now, it was gift-wrapped and all ready for the special day. Maybe she should browse the boutiques for something nice to wear for him. She stopped in her tracks and reevaluated what she just thought. Then, she just shook her head. Do all females in love become this obliging?

She sighed. What a change she'd undergone from a year before. A year ago she was piled under layers of dark clothing and thick glasses and the butt of every cruel joke. She'd felt so alone and unwanted. Now, she had a group of caring friends, a closet bulging from the latest styles and colors - thanks to Belle, and a caring and adorable boyfriend, who couldn't seem to get enough of her. Actually, now that she thought about it, he'd been acting a lot more attentive lately… a lot more protective. Yesterday afternoon at the pond, when he'd spun her around and kissed her in front of everyone… He'd never done that before. Then, today at her locker…

She smiled at the memory. Valentine's was only a couple days away, after all. He was just getting in the spirit of things. She looked into her shopping bag and smiled. And so was she. For once, she was willing to be swept away.

Daydreaming, she accidentally walked into a passerby.

"Excuse me," she said, as she looked up with an embarrassed smile. And gasped. "You."

His face was black, blue, and swollen. His nose heavily bandaged and in a miniature splint. His lips, eye, and even his cheek were stitched.

She took a step back in fright, more because of what he looked like than what he might do.

His good eye widened a moment, before he held his hands up. "I-I'm not gonna hurt you, ok?" His speech was slurred from the stitches and bruises. "I-I didn't know you were the K's girl. I just need something from the drug store. T-That's why I'm here. S-So don't go crying to him that I-I messed with you today, o-okay?" Then, he stepped away and left.

She blinked in shock. What just happened here?

"Chloe!"

She turned to see Belle walking over to join her. "Hey, Belle," she said, still slightly dazed.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" her friend asked quizzically.

"That guy? Oh, he was the one that bullied Mimi the other day," she replied, deadpanned.

Belle's eyes widened. "The guy that hit you?"

Chloe unconsciously touched the bruise on her cheek. "Yeah."

"Oh, my gosh, Chloe," exclaimed Belle, leading her friend to a bench. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes fluttering before she forced a weak smile, "I'm ok, Belle. He didn't do anything."

"Maybe we should call Philip-"

"No, Belle," Chloe said quickly, "I'm ok. And I don't want him to worry…" Or worse.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she answered, "Actually, I'm glad that you're here." She needed to change the subject quickly. "I wanted to get something pretty to wear for Valentine's Day."

Belle squeezed her friend's hand and hoped everything was as well as it seemed. "You know me, girlfriend. Always ready for a shopping spree. Actually, I was here to find something for Valentine's Day, too, and the party on Friday."

Chloe genuinely smiled. "And what are we making the handsome Shawn Brady wear?"

An insidious grin spread from ear to ear. "Let's see," replied Belle.

In the locker room the next day, the girls changed for P.E. Not in the least self-conscious, Belle chatted like a magpie about the upcoming cheerleading competition, while she stripped and pulled on her gym uniform.

Mimi, on the other hand, looked about, as she ever so quickly changed into her athletic bra and gym gear. Her mind was still on the second note, which she'd found in her locker this morning. The same ink. The same handwriting.

"A smile, pure sunshine; a laugh, sweet music; a tear, my torment."

Normally, she'd run to Belle, as fast as she could, and squeal in romantic fantasy, but… for some reason, she couldn't tell anyone. Not yet.

Chloe simply faced her own locker and changed quietly. She didn't see the need to hide nor showcase her wares, when it came to changing in public. Though considering how many girls' vindictive eyes wandered and evaluated, she understood why some preferred to change in the bathroom stalls.

"So, you think he'll go for it?" asked Belle.

Mimi shrugged, "If anyone can talk him into it, you can. Though I'd guess that most guys would have a problem with tights, much less what you're talking about."

"But every boy wants to be a superhero, right?" pleaded Belle.

Chloe simply kept her own counsel and smiled. Knowing they were about to play volleyball, she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and met the bald stares head on. If her days as Ghoul Girl had taught her anything, it was to never show fear in the face of the enemy. Now that she had the envy of Salem High girls, she also had their spite. To see her in pain gave some people a sadistic thrill. With boys, not so much. However, with girls, they were like vultures waiting for one of their own to die. She remembered Jan and those girls, who'd practically stumbled over themselves to tell her about the bet. Not to help her, but to hurt her.

You see, they shouted. You're still nothing. That makes us something.

So, she headed out with Belle and Mimi to the court and wore her bruise like a battle scar. With pride. And a reminder of the way of the world.

After warm-up, the teacher divided the girls into teams of six and the whistle was blown. Because of her height, Chloe was delegated to blocking and spiking, although she wasn't very good at it. But today she felt like demolishing something. So, when the ball was set moderately well enough, she visualized Jan's face and pounded it. And knocked out a passer in the opposing team.

"Wow!" shouted Mimi, who high-fived her. "You go, girl!" She stepped back to serve, happily in her element. Although she really didn't need to, she imagined Jason's head and sent the ball to the far left corner.

Belle, meanwhile, clapped for everyone without prejudice. When the ball happened to come to her, she used both hands to smack it over the net. Her team cheered, and Belle hugged Chloe and Mimi enthusiastically through the net.

The boys, sweaty from their basketball game in the other gym, peeked in on the girls and chuckled. Chicks and sports. Sexy, but funny, they thought, as a couple of freshly manicured girls slipped onto their rear ends, while trying to avoid the ball. Philip draped an arm of camaraderie on his buddy Shawn, as they watched their ladies in action. Philip let out a whoop, when Chloe made another injurious kill. By now, the opposing team ducked every time the ball got close to her. Obviously, she was in a mood today. Shawn, meanwhile, watched the hem of Belle's shirt rise, as she reached for another oncoming attack. She jumped up and down in glee, when she managed a passable block. Both boys cheered, when Mimi made a courageous save.

"Whoa, your girl's on fire today, K-Man," commented their lanky, absent-minded teammate, practically drooling from all the pretty females. "You know, I was at Salem Place yesterday and saw that ass from Lincoln trying to talk to her."

Philip's expression instantly froze. "What'd you say?"

"Yeah," the guy continued, his eyes glued to a redhead with especially long legs, "Looked like she was shopping, and that guy you messed up tried talking to her. He looked pretty fucked up, too. Anyways, she looked like she was about to faint, and he left."

In a flash, Philip grabbed the guy's shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, Phil," exclaimed Shawn, as he tried to pull his hot-blooded friend back.

"Did he hurt her?" Philip demanded.

His teammate was in complete shock. "K-Man, dude, you gotta chill." When the fists only tightened, he babbled, "Naw, naw. Like I said, he left, and then Shawn's girl - Belle, yeah, Belle - came by after, and they went into some chick shop together. Chill, man, chill."

Philip blinked, before he let go and smoothed his teammate's shirt. "Sorry, man," he muttered, before he turned, his eyes honing instantly on her in mid-court. Now, the bruise seemed all the more visible.

"Forget it, dude. I know how it is," replied his remarkably easygoing teammate, as he stretched his collar in relief. "I'd be the same way, if it were my girl."

"Yeah," he mumbled absently, thinking the message hadn't been clear enough. That would be remedied. But first, he'd talk to Chloe.