Ups and Downs

Ups and Downs is the second episode of Season One of LetItRock898 and Lead The Careers' hit fan fiction, Our High School Is Better Than Yours!, and the second episode overall.

Delilah and Ellie come to blows over who should be Captain of the Power Squad. Manuel discovers he has dyslexia, and it's a long and bumpy road to recovery. Shan and Joey's relationship takes an unexpected turn, which may put both of their social lives in danger, as well as their love lives.

OHSIBTY! Season 1, Episode 2: "Ups and Downs"
"Manuel, I saw how you were in class. Were you really having trouble reading the text, or were you just messing around?" Manuel sat in the empty classroom, nestled in the arms of the uncomfortable plastic chair, his beautiful teacher by his side. After the incident in class, she was interrogating him about his reading skills, which was extremely embarrassing with people listening in, their faces pressed up against the glass walls, foreheads creased with concentration.

"It was true," he hissed through gritted teeth. "The words just... wouldn't stay still. They squirmed, I couldn't read them."

"Hmm..." Miss. Herring's hand slid into one of the cluttered pockets of her burnished desk. It rummaged around a little, then finally drew out, clutching a stack of cards in it's silky palm. The teacher placed the stack on the desk and spread them out, revealing the thick black words scribbled against the white backgrounds. "Now, what does this word say?"

Manuel squinted and drew his face up close to the word, yet, like the study text, the black lines squirmed around like worms in the soil. "Erm... er... I dunno."

"Manuel, I've seen enough." Miss. Herring slammed the boards down on the wood, the sound ricochetting round the empty room, making Manny jump a foot in the air. "I think you have dyslexia."

"Er... what's that?" enquired Manuel, eyebrows raised.

"It means you have difficulty reading and writing," explained the teacher, her voice cool and soothing.

"So basically, I'm thick?" he hissed, leaning back and folding his arms.

"No, no, of course not! You're just slightly disadvantaged in the literature section against some other students. But there have been thousands of famous and successful dyslexics in the world - Leonardo Di Vinci, Walt Disney - and there are lots of dyslexic students in this school. Jennifer Wood from Class Three; Alexander Chari from Class 4; Delilah Rene from Class 8 -"

"Wait," said Manny, snapping into attention on hearing the school bitch's name. "Delilah has dyslexia?"

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

"No. I doubt anyone knows that. I bet her boyfriend doesn't even know that!"

"Oh my goodness, me and my mouth," muttered the beautiful woman, suddenly looking very anxious. "I'm sure she didn't want that rumor spreading. Please don't tell anyone, Manuel."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't," whispered Manuel, yet the teacher missed the smug smile that adorned his lips.

Sam sauntered across the now-empty hall, desperately searching for her class, lost in the maze of gloomy, lifeless corridors. Sweat beaded across her forehead as the ticking of the wall clock echoed against the smooth, award-littered walls and lockers; she was missing her English class after she had foolishly believed a jock who had obviously sent her in the wrong direction.

Ugh, I'm gonna kill that jock when I get my hands on him! she thought, grinding her teeth, as she passed another deserted room cluttered with tables and cheap plastic chairs. Not a single student was present.

"Hello?" Sam called into the gloomy emptiness, hoping for a reply.

She strolled along, rummaging through her bag, eyes down and searching through the many books and crumpled papers, she couldn't see where she was going. It was only when she felt herself collide with something that she looked up, panicking. A tall girl stood in front of her, a beautiful figure adorned with long, chocolate locks and twinkling eyes and a tight, scarlet cheerleading uniform.

"Watch where you're going, for goodness' sake!" she snapped, shoving Sam out the way, gliding across the floor in her laced trainers. Sam's eyebrow automatically raised at the stranger's attitude, unimpressed, books falling from her bag onto the burnished floor.

"Yeah, whatever, bitch," she called back, sniggering. The tall girl span around at this speech, and stormed over suddenly, her face twisted into a frightening expression. Oops, though Sam, bad mistake.

"What did you just say to me?" the beauty hissed, eyes narrowing and, in Sam's mind, turning red.

"Nothing," Sam replied, then turned her head away. "Bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Just then, Sam felt a firm hand slug across her face. It was a slap with such force it sent her hurtling backwards into the lockers, her head scraping against the metal doors, leaving her in a shivering heap on the floor. "I heard that," hissed the girl. "Listen, I know your type. You're like me. You're decent-looking, you're healthy, and you insult people. I recommend you join the Power Squad - become a cheerleader. Trust me, you get beaten up a lot less."

"Really?" enquired Sam, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Trust me." The stranger held out her hand. "I'm Delilah. And you are?"

"Samantha," said Sam, slowly rising from the cold floor. "Or, just Sam. Nice to meet you, Delilah." She shook her hand swiftly.

"Cool. Now, auditions are in the hall at half-one." And, with those words, Delilah strode away into the gloominess of the corridor.

"Go wide!" called the jock, racing across the newly-greened lawn, clutching hold of the football in his palms. His muscular arms flexed high into the air and the football whizzed into the air, flying in a high arch, the other jocks reaching up to catch it.

Joey jumped into the air and caught the ball with one swift catch, then touched back down and ran across the pitch, watching his team mates aside of him. The goal was in sight, just a few metres, so close. He was going to reach it, and score, and earn more points for his team.

It happened so fast. The player came hurtling out of nowhere at an unstoppable speed, eyes bulging, ready for the kill. He slammed into Joey, knocking him to the floor, sending pain shooting through his body, grabbing the ball from his hand. The whistle blew, shrill and high, and Joey squirmed in agony of the floor, clutching his shoulder.

"Oh my god, what happened?" cried the coach, kneeling next to the casualty's squirming body, eyes widened.

"Burnson...he came out of nowhere..." hissed Joey, agonizing pain shooting through his left shoulder.

"Come on," muttered the coach. "Let's get you to the hospital."

The light shone in Joey's eyes, bright and dazzling, almost blinding him. A beeping in the background awoke him, and his eyes flickered open to the sight of a figure standing over him.

"Shan?" he asked, as the details gradually transformed from hazy to sharp. The beautiful girl sat at his bedside, a grin growing on her gloss-caked lips. She gave a loud sigh of relief.

"Ugh, thank goodness! I though you wouldn't wake up! How do you feel?" she enquired, her voice weirdly loud.

"My shoulder aches," muttered Joey. "What happened?"

"Some stupid jock took a tackle too far. It's just a bruise, no break or dislocation. The nurse says you could go as soon as you woke up."

Joey sat up, and swung his legs off the the bed. "Why are you here?"

"I was.. er.. watching from the benches when you got took down. I took you to hospital." Shan replied.

"Oh. Thanks," a grin grew on Joey's dry lips, and he was greeted by Shan's gorgeous grin once more.

What happened next happened even faster than the tackle. He couldn't stop himself. Her beauty, her personality, her perfectness... he couldn't stop himself leaning in and pressing his lips upon hers.

Shan's heart leapt a foot inside her body, and it took a remarkable amount of effort to stop herself from pulling away so she could absorb all the sudden happenings, yet she couldn't. It felt so good. The one moment she had fantasised, dreamed, hoped about for years was finally happening. The feeling of his lips upon hers, the rush of adrenalin, the want for more.

The approaching of the nurse split the kiss, much to her disappointment. The nurse knew she'd split something private, yet she didn't apologize and walk away.

"So.." she muttered, checking her clipboard. "You're Joey Mitchell, right?" Joey nodded feebly. "You are free to go. You cannot play football for at least a month when you go back to school - wait until the bruise has turned yellow. Here," she handed him a small tube of pills, the tablets jangling a tuneless song as the container rattled. "Take these twice a day, and rub antiseptic cream on the wound. It helps the swelling."

"So, can I take him home now?" muttered Shan, impatient. The nurse nodded and swivelled round, and carried on into the busy hallway. Shan turned to Joey, who'd turned bright red. "Come on, let's get you back to school."

The ride home was awkward - a cloak of silence drooped across the shoulders of the two teenagers.

Ellie stumbled down the hallway, scanning the walls for her locker, lost in the sea of chattering students. She was freezing cold in the skimpy uniform, and her hair flew into her eyes, as Callie never let the cheerleaders have their hair up unless it was cheerleading practice. School rules were ludicrous.

Finally she located her locker, and it took a remarkable amount of effort to force the lock to turn and click. The combination burned in her mind: 6-2-8-15-2-9 - yet no matter how many times she put it in, the locker stayed fixed shut.

She slammed her fist against the door in rage, growling in frustration, her patience running low. The metal was cool against the many chunks of flesh that were uncovered by red fabric; it sent shivers up her spine.

She had one more attempt at unlocking the cabinet, and this time, the lock fell to the floor. Surprised, Ellie raised her eyebrows, and swung the door open.

Rolls of white, flimsy toilet paper adorned the contents of her locker. Torn sheets of paper dangled from every book and pen and accessory in there. It looked like a snowy scene of the dawn of Christmas. A strangled cry escaped Ellie's dry throat, and she immediately started tearing at the paper, scattering it across the hall like confetti, looking for evidence about who dared to TP the Power Squad's captain locker. She found that evidence in the shape of two small initials, scribbled in ink on one ripped sheet: '''D.R. '''Delilah Rene.

Just at this very moment, Ellie swiveled round to see the guilty party strutting across the hallway, accompanied by a blonde girl whom Ellie didn't recognize.

"What the heck, Delilah!" Ellie called, pointing to her locker. "I know it was you! What was that for?"

Delilah turned to face the brunette, and strolled towards her, an evil smile inhabiting her lips. "It was... a joke."

"A joke? A joke?! Come on, we both know that this wasn't a joke! Is this you getting back at me for snatching the captain spot off you?"

"Yes," snapped Delilah, hand on her hips, eyebrows knitting together with the frown. "Yes, it is! Because we both know that I want, need and am better for that spot."

"Oh, please, the coach picked me! For goodness sake, just accept that you aren't better than a bloomin' fourteen-year-old. You're only dating Joey so you can get popular - you don't love him!"

"I do love him!" yelled Delilah, her voice advancing in anger. "And I don't know why Callie picked you for the captain when you can't even do a backflip when I can. Remember practice the other day? You failed!"

"Yes, just like your mother's abortion!" Ellie snapped back, then her face settled, realizing what she'd just said. Oops, she thought as she saw Delilah's face, flooded with rage.

Suddenly, Delilah leapt forward and seized Ellie by her slim shoulders, and tossed her against the lockers. Ellie fell back onto the floor, her arm aching madly, a violet bruise slowly forming where the skin had collided with the metal. She wasn't going to stay down, though; Ellie leapt up, and swept Delilah's legs from under her, then clawed her rival's arms with her nails that she'd filed down to precise points, just for this action. Delilah howled with pain, and brought her hand down on Ellie's face, knocking her clean off.

Ellie was just about to go in for the kill when she felt two burly, athletic arms fix around her and yank her back, away from the action. She struggled in protest, wanting to wring her rival's throat like a towel, when she saw Joey doing the same thing to Delilah - pulling her back, attempting to calm her down. Obviously his pleads fell upon deaf ears.

"Calm down!" she didn't recognize the voice of the one holding her back, but she did recognize the face. Tom Anderson, that boy who haunted the halls, always listening to his iPod and never speaking. That's why she didn't recognize the voice - because he never spoke.

"Get of," muttered Ellie, and brushed Tom off her. "I thought you were one who walked away from drama."

"Joey told me that two girls were scrapping in the hallway - no one can miss that," explained Tom, flicking through a mass of songs on his iPod. "Then I saw it was you. You do know that you could never win a fight against a sixteen-year-old, right?"

Ellie's eyebrow shifted up, and she raised her hand to display her set of sharpened fingernails. She slashed the boy's school jumper, cutting clean through the fabric like a knife through butter, luckily not slashing the flesh. Tom jumped, and stared down at his ruined shirt in awe.

"You were saying?" she asked, and Tom remained silent, still in awe. Amused by his reaction, Ellie chuckled, and brushed past the boy, shaking the torn pieces of his shirt from her hand. She was just about to turn the corner when she realized that Tom was following her every move. "What?" she hissed, sounding more irritated than she meant.

"So, what's your next class?" he asked, still awe-struck.

"Erm... Geography, I believe, unless Delilah's messed up my timetable as well," she hastily replied during a swift glance over her shoulder to see if her rival was sneaking up behind her, prepared to unless a counterattack.

"Me too!" smiled Tom, his face suddenly lighting up. "I think we're doing partner work in that lesson - be my partner?"

"Alright." she accepted, unintentionally sounding mean again, yet Tom didn't seem to notice.

THE END