Don't Give up on Me

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The clock overhead was driving me crazy. I sigh and kick my feet up onto the table as Zacky and I waited for four o'clock to finally come. Even though we both didn't have a class for fourth period, Mr Lowe ordered us and a few other people to stay here, being supervised by Lowe himself. It was to "be fair to the other students who couldn't just leave during fourth block." But, judging by the fact that it was Z and I, two notorious dealers, and an extremely high looking sophomore, it was to cover the school's ass just in case any of us got into any trouble around town.

When Lowe wasn't looking, I glared at him, remembering the conversation I'd had with him only an hour before.

"Andria, have a seat," he says as I enter the office. My eyes automatically searched for Zack, but he was nowhere to be found. I tried to hide the disappointment I felt that he wasn't in here.

Mr Lowe sighs, as if today's been his most stressful day. "Do you know why I've called you in here?"

"Mrs Jackson said you needed me. That's all I know."

"I just wanted to see what your plans for the future are."

Oh, God, I thought in pure panic. "Oh," I finally replied to fill the silence that had fallen between us.

"Tell me, Andria, what are your plans for the summer? We'll start small," he says, and he smiles at me like I'm a child that can't comprehend anything.

I felt my temper flare already. He thinks I'm stupid! "I'm going to find a job, maybe go back to Texas for a few weeks. That sort of thing, ya know?"

He sighs again, clearly not the answer he wanted. "Alright, and after?"

"Graduate and get the hell out of here," I state bluntly, shrugging.

"Have you looked into any schools?"

"A few art schools. Other than that, I haven't."

He sits back and takes a deep breath, looking deep in thought. "Andria-"

"Its Andi," I interrupt, tired of the use of my full name.

"Andi," he continues pointedly, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. "I must admit, I'm genuinely concerned about you. Looking at your academic record, I found very few flaws. Grades that an honor student would dream of. You balanced dancing, your artwork, and school altogether, and that's mighty impressive. But now, it seems that you're, well, slipping, for lack of a better word. You don't dance anymore, your grades are mediocre. The only thing that's stayed the same is your participation in art activities. What went wrong, Andi?"

What went wrong?! Oh, Mr. Lowe, you've crossed the wrong line with me today.

"What went wrong was that I found that putting on a show for everyone made me unhappy. What went wrong was that I lost interest in my schoolwork because its not stimulating in the slightest. What went wrong was that I would much rather be anywhere but here. But the law requires me to be here, so I'm here. What went wrong was that the only thing keeping me going right now is my boyfriend, friends, and my art. What went wrong is that my grandfather is sitting in a Hospice Care facility dying and I can lose him at any second, but you wouldn't give a shit because you'd see it as me skipping school to say my final goodbyes. What went wrong is that I've seen through your corruption, Mr Lowe, and I will not sit here and stomach the bullshit about how college will make me a successful young adult if I clean up my act. What went wrong is that you've called the wrong person down to brainwash."

He sits in front of me, jaw tight in shock as he absorbed the words I had just spoken to him. "Miss Dawson, in the ten years that I have worked as a principal here at Huntington Beach, never have I ever had a student blatantly disrespect me in my own office. At least, not until you and Baker came along. You are damn lucky I don't expell the both of you this second for the things the both of you have said to me today. Get the hell out of my office, now."

Unfazed, I pick up my bag and head for the door. Right before my hand twists the handle down, he says very quietly, "and if I don't see you in the library for your fourth period, I just might expell both of you today."

Later, I find out at lunch that Zacky had gotten into a fight with a football player for talking shit about one of us, but he refused to say who. He had a slight black eye and a bloody nose, but no serious injuries, thankfully. This fight resulted in a visit to Lowe's office at the end of second period, and after being scolded by Lowe, Zacky finally retaliated and made sure he knew how much of a pompous asshole he was.

That leads us to now, fifteen minutes before our summer vacation started. I tilt my head back on the back of the chair and groan, the boredom so immense that I had resorted to counting the dots on the acoustic ceiling tiles.

"That is enough, Dawson," Lowe barks from his current position ten feet away.

"I didn't do anything," I protest, looking for another fight. He pushed my buttons; I was going to push right back and twice as hard.

"Don't talk back to me. You need to learn some respect, Miss Dawson. The entire lot of you do."

"Get off her back, she didn't do anything," Zacky defends me, sending yet another glare to the balding man. He looked like he was in pain, but knowing him, he was trying to tough it out in front of Lowe.

Just as Lowe opened his mouth to reply, Mr Salazar walks in carrying a box filled with what looked like all of his things from his office. "Can I borrow Baker and Dawson to help me carry my things to my car?" he asks, ever so slightly winking in our direction.

"Sure. Maybe it'll build some charecter for them both," he replies quickly, not wanting to spend another second with either of us.

"Thanks, Patrick."

We both get up and follow Salazar down both flights of stairs to his room and find ourselves in shock. His teaching certificates, awards, and posters of musicians were all taken down, leaving the white cinderblock walls blank. The piano no longer had the little baseball bobbleheads on its faded top, and the shelves were emptied of the knick-knacks he collected.

"Salazar, what the hell? You never pack the shelves. What's going on?" Zacky asks, just as confused as I was.

"I got offered a job at a performing arts school in San Francisco. Today is my last day here," Salazar says as he seals another box with packing tape.

"You're leaving us?" I ask in shock. "You can't leave us with that- that asshole alone! You of all people should know that we're barely making it now!"

"Trust me, I know, Andi," he sighs. "I feel bad for leaving. You guys were going to be the sole reason I stayed in this school for another year. I look after the lot of you as if you were my own kids, and I want to see you all graduate. But, my fiancée is pregnant with my actual child and this pays me much better than Mr Lowe wants for a 'low-level' music teacher like myself, so I have to go."

"Low level?! Did he really say that?" Zacky asked. Salazar nods with a shrug.

"Anyways, I didn't really call you guys down here to help me move my shit. You guys know me better than that. I got you guys down here to say goodbye," Salazar says, then reaches into his box of the items usually on the shelves. "The baseball I caught at an Angels game years ago. I don't have much use for it up there, so, here, Baker."

"You can't just drop the bomb that you're leaving and give me this," Zacky says, the smile he had on his face faltering. "We're going to be screwed without you here, Salazar."

"You've all got to learn that I can't fight every battle for you, as much as I want to. I just-- Andi, what the hell?!"

I continue to drink the energy drink I had opened. "What? I'm thirsty."

" Eres demasiado." ( A/N "You're too much." Don't take my word on this, Google translate sucks and my mom wasn't around to tell me the proper translation, since my Spanish sucks) He laughs, a genuine smile on his face. "Keep this one in check, will ya? Well, try to, at least."

"Will do," I salute, grinning at Zacky, who was grumbling to himself about Salazar's comment. "Wait, why does he get a gift and I'm told to look after him? I thought we had something here, Sal!"

"God, you're too impatient. I'm definitely not going to miss that from you," he mutters as he reaches into the box. "Here, brat."

It was a Van Gogh bobble head. I couldn't help but grin. "Stick with your art, Andi. I'm completely serious, keep at it. I've worked here five years and I've never seen a talent like yours when it comes to paint and canvas. Invite me to a gallery someday, yeah?"

"Promise to buy a piece?"

"I'm a teacher, Andi, not a millionaire."

"You get a special discount, Sal."

"Okay, maybe. Nothing over $500."

"Consider yourself invited."

"And you, Zack. Keep playing music. Tell Matt, Jimmy, and Brian that if you all don't keep making and playing that I will beat you all senseless if I find out you all stopped, got it?"

"You have my word," Zacky replies, shaking Salazar's hand. The bell rings overhead, the cheers of students echoing down the hall into the room.

"Goodbye, Salazar," we both say in farewell. He smiles, though it was obvious that it was bittersweet.

"Make me proud, guys!" he calls as we leave the room.

"I'm going to miss him," I said as I slid my aviators over my eyes. "Great dude-"

I'm interrupted by the fist connecting with Zacky's jaw, followed by his groan. I turn and see Micheal Jacobsen, Cara's ex boyfriend. The mystery of who he was talking shit about was immediately solved; I should've known he would pull this shit.

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?" Zacky yells angrily. "You almost hit my fucking girlfriend! Watch the fuck out."

"Or what, Baker? Are you gonna hit me again?" Micheal asks tauntingly. Bastard.

"You're damn right I will. I'll beat the shit out of you again. Keep your mouth shut."

I feel a hand grab my arm and pull me back a few steps. I look over and see Serena, who smiled weakly. Her boyfriend, Austin, stepped forward in front of us both as Zacky argued with Micheal.

"Are you okay?" she whispers. I nod twice, more worried about my bleeding boyfriend than anything.

"Leave Baker alone," Austin says, his deep voice commanding attention on him. He, too, was on the football team. Quarterback, to be exact. "Or have your ass handed to you again by not only him, but me, too," he adds, pushing Micheal back a few feet.

"Fuck you, Austin. Why in the fuck are you sticking up for him?"

"Because he's not a stupid little kid that talks shit but can't back it up like you," Austin snaps. "Go home, Jacobsen."

Cursing, Micheal turns and walks away. The crowd that formed evaporated instantly, leaving the four of us alone.

"You alright, man? That sucker punch looked painful," Austin asks Zacky, running a hand through his long brown hair.

"I'm fine. Thanks, by the way," Zacky replies quickly, turning to me. "Are you okay, babe? He didn't touch you, right? I swear to fucking God if he did, I will hunt him down-"

"I'm fine, too," I reply, examining his face. "Something cut you, though, and your eye is swelling pretty bad..."

"This is nothing. I've had worse."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, guys, seriously. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, why did you do that?" Zacky adds, not trusting the situation completely.

"Believe it or not, I don't actually hate you, Baker. Shocking, right? Plus, he almost did hit Andi and Austin doesn't stand for that shit. Merely coincidence that we stumbled upon the both of you, really," Serena shrugs, then directs her attention to me. "You're coming to my house for the party our parents are throwing, right?"

"I don't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Bring your boyfriend. Austin's going to be there, right, babe?" He nods. "We can mingle for an hour and then go to the basement and chill."

"We'll think about it," I reply.

"Okay. Hopefully, I'll see you both tomorrow!" she says before turning and following Austin to his car.

"Did the last ten minutes really just happen?" he asks, holding his jaw. "Don't answer that. By the way this hurts, it definitely did."

"Let's get you home. Thank God you rode with me today," I mutter the last part, speeding to my house. Upon entering the house, I run into the guest bathroom and get the first-aid kit and some pain meds.

"Does your nose still hurt? It doesn't look broken but I can't be a hundred percent..."

"Its fine. He just busted a blood vessel earlier, nothing too bad," he replies. I lightly press my fingers along the bridge of his nose, trying to feel anything that wasn't normal. He grimaces, but it felt fine, so I continued onto something else.

"How about your teeth?"

"Fine, too, nothing's lose or anything."

"I'll take your word for it," I reply as I pour alcohol onto a cotton ball. "This is going to sting a li-"

"Son of a bitch," he curses loudly as I press it to the cut on his cheek, making me giggle quietly. "Stop laughing, its not funny. This hurts."

"Then don't get into fights. Problem solved."

I hadn't meant to say it; I wasn't even angry at him for it. Micheal is a dick, and deserved the fucked up face Zacky gave him.

"Andi..."

"I didn't mean to say it. You just scared me, really.."

"What do you mean?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, when I found out about the first time, it didn't bother me, because I didn't see it. But I hate worrying about you, and I especially didn't think I'd have to clean you up for a second time today. I know you can hold your own, but that doesn't mean I liked seeing it."

"He almost fucking hit you, what the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"That's not my point. Thank you for trying to protect me, honestly. I'm just saying, it was scary."

"Well, I'm sorry you felt that way," he murmurs as I lower my hand from his cheek.

I change the subject. "Are you sure your jaw is okay?"

"I'm fine, Andi," he insists, then pulls me in for a hug. I cling to him tightly, trying to shoo away the sudden wave of nervousness I felt.

"Don't you dare put me through anything like that again," I say into his chest. "I will personally beat the shit out of you if you do."

"I promise I won't do it again, okay, baby?" he says, kissing me briefly. "I'm sorry."

"Its okay. Just promise me something?"

"Okay."

"Come with me tomorrow?" I ask tentatively. He groans.

"No. No! There is no way I'm going to go to my ex girlfriend's house with her mother, who can easily tell your Dad about the fire, which can end up making a huge deal at a party neither of us belong at. No."

"Please? You can't let me go all alone. I can call Serena tonight and tell her to make sure her mom doesn't bring it up, please, please, please?" I begged, swallowing my pride. "If you don't go, I have to listen to all of my dad's friends talk shit about my mom and then listen to Laura talk about how much she loves shopping and I don't think I can talk shit about everyone under my breath alone..."

He leans his head against the wall and sighs. "God damn it..."

"Is that a yes?!"

"Unfortunately."

"Oh, thank God," I say as I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

"Ow," he moans, and its only then that I realize that he had a sore jaw and a black eye.

"Oh, right," I say quickly, detaching myself from him and going back to helping him. I put some ice cubes into a sandwich bag and wrap a dishtowel around it before pressing it gently against his eye. He hisses in pain for a second before the ice relieves it and soothes him.

"Thanks, Andi," he says quietly, half-smiling.

"No problem. Now go lay down in my room. I'm gonna make some food."

"Okay," he says, walking carefully upstairs. I followed a few minutes after, ready to start unwinding like my summer vacation promised.

(A/N, Austin is not modeled after Austin Carlile. Just thought I should clarify.)