Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 2779
Summary: David Desrosiers isn't your typical sixteen year old boy living in Juneau, Alaska. Bullied relentlessly by Pierre Bouvier, a boy he's known since elementary school, David and his best friend Jenny come up with a back-handed plan to seek revenge on the boy who makes their lives a living Hell.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, didn't happen!
Author's Note: Here it is, on schedule, chapter three! :)
Over the next couple of days, David and Pierre functioned on a rigid schedule: school, hockey, study. While Pierre seemed to take David's direction and pick up fairly well on his math tutoring, David was having a little more trouble when it came to hockey. He was still a rather shaky skater, and when carrying a hockey stick, his balance only worsened. Pair that with trying to pass a puck back and forth and he might as well have been trying to walk on a high-wire. David was becoming increasingly hopeless with each passing day that he failed to pick up easily on the sport and he was really staring to mentally prepare himself for the day of tryouts when he would inevitably not make it on the team, and there would end the plan to seek revenge on the boy who had made his school life miserable since he was a little boy. Pierre was doing his best to keep his patience with the younger boy, but he too was beginning to wonder if he was fighting a losing battle. That Saturday afternoon was no different.
David skated down the rink, his arms shaking as he attempted to pass the puck to Pierre while moving. He slid his arm forward with the hockey stick, hitting the puck only hard enough to get it to the center of the ice, far away from where he had actually been aiming it.
“Not hard enough!” Pierre chided him, shaking his head and skating flawlessly to where the puck had landed before passing it hard back at David.
David braced himself and stuck his stick out, his eyes closing tight the moment the puck actually made contact with it and flinching back slightly.
“You need to cradle it in!” Pierre's voice came, irritating David immediately. “And keep your damn eyes open!”
David gave an irate sigh and opened his eyes, glaring hard at Pierre before he moved forward and swung hard, sending the puck flying through the air toward the other boy.
Pierre merely skated out of the way and ignored the puck as it bounced off the sideboards and skidded off at an angle. “Too hard!” he criticized ruthlessly.
There was a very large part of David that wanted to punch Pierre right between his pretty little eyes, but—as he constantly reminded himself—he needed Pierre's help if he was going to get on the hockey team and ruin his perfect life, so he bit down any retort that came to mind and instead skated to where the puck had stopped. He moved the puck back up the rink before attempting to pass it to Pierre once more, and even though he had been legitimately trying that time, the puck veered off too far to the right and Pierre simply shook his head with a look of disapproving.
“Ugh! I suck!” David exclaimed suddenly, and he threw down the hockey stick in his irritation, his cheeks flushing and his heart racing.
“Well, you can't say you didn't try. Better luck next year,” Pierre responded without missing a beat, a mean, smug smirk on his lips.
“Oh thanks a lot,” David muttered with a dark glare before he leaned down to pick up the stick and skated his way back to solid ground. It was with a heavy sigh that he plopped himself down on the bench and let the hockey stick fall to the ground next to him, his eyes staring unseeingly at his skates. He could feel a strong sense of disappointment in himself welling up inside of him at the realization that he was going to let Jenny down. There was a part of him that wanted this revenge for himself, but more than anything he wanted it for his best friend who had been hurt by Pierre more than he ever had.
David saw Pierre move to sit next to him on the bench, but he didn't move his eyes away from his skates. He continued to let his mind wander, not thinking too much of the other boy's actions, though when it finally occurred to him that Pierre was looking at him, David felt a flutter of nerves stir in his stomach and he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at his classmate, regarding him skeptically. “...What?” David asked, sounding confused and a little defensive, as if he expected that Pierre was judging him for something he wasn't aware he had done.
“Why do you want this so bad?” Pierre asked with a look of skeptical curiosity on his face.
This was the second time that Pierre had asked this question of him, and immediately all the wrong answers rushed to David's mind. He kept his mouth shut and stared nervously at Pierre, afraid to open his mouth out of fear that he might spill the secret about their plan to ruin his chances for his future. After taking several seconds, he swallowed and prepared the words he had spoken once before. “It's personal.”
“Oh don't give me that crap,” Pierre replied with a shake of his head. “I'm not helping you anymore if you don't tell me.”
David scoffed and gave Pierre an incredulous glare. “I don't have to tell you anything,” he responded hotly.
“Suit yourself,” Pierre said, and with a shrug he began to get up.
David watched him stand and start to walk away, feeling his last shred of hope getting further and further away from him. His mind reeled with reasons why he might want to play hockey. To fit in? It didn't seem likely to him that he would want to have pizza parties with the kids who had picked on him all those years. To get into a good school? He was a fantastic student and would have absolutely no problem getting into practically any school that he wanted. And then something popped into David's head and the words flew from his tongue before he really had the time to think about it. “I want it for my dad.”
Pierre stopped and turned around, staring at David with a look that he couldn't quite decipher. Could it have really been understanding or was David just trying to see the humanity in a monster who possessed none? “Your dad, huh?”
David nodded, thinking wildly on the spot. “I want to have something in common with him so that maybe when he comes home from sea, we might actually have something to talk about at the dinner table.” It wasn't until the words had been spoken that it occurred to David how true that actually was. Maybe it wasn't why he actually wanted to join the team, but there was something painfully true in his lie. David and his father had never really seen eye to eye over the years, and things only seemed to get worse after his mother had died. It was like there was an invisible wall between them, their differences so great and their sadness so uncomfortable that they couldn't ever connect on a father/son level. David's eyes drifted down to his skates again and he began to speak from the heart, clearly bothered. “He looks at me like I'm some foreign object... Like he doesn't even know me... Like I'm not the son he wanted.”
Though his eyes were trained down, David heard Pierre moving closer and before he knew it, Pierre was sitting by his side again and looking at him. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, David looked quickly over at Pierre, a light pink rising in his cheeks at the complete surprise of the other boy reaching out to comfort him. “He loves you,” Pierre told him firmly and David felt more thrown off still, completely frozen in his shock. “You're his son, David. His only son... He loves you. And as long as you're happy, he's gonna be happy for you.”
The moment between them was thick and intense, and David couldn't help feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage to break eye contact with the older boy.
Pierre stared at David for a moment longer before a sudden look of pondering crossed his features and he gave a soft, “Hm.” Then without warning, he stood and began to walk away, muttering, “Hold on a second,” as he did.
“Uh... Okay?” David replied, watching the other boy walk away and only feeling his confusion growing. Now that the weirdly intimate moment was over, David couldn't help but over analyze it in his head. The more time he spent with Pierre, the less he seemed to understand about him. It seemed that more often than not, Pierre was nothing more than a bash-his-head-into-lockers kind of neanderthal, but every once in a while this deep, border-line sensitive guy emerged and left David totally floored. Sometimes he simply didn't know what to make of the senior.
Before long Pierre was walking back to David, though his arms weren't empty, and when he threw some pads, a face mask and a couple giant mitts at David's feet, David looked down at the pile in confusion. “Put that on,” Pierre instructed him, his eyes never leaving David as the junior picked up the pads and regarding them with skepticism.
“This thing smells like feet,” David commented dryly, a disturbed grimace on his face. Pierre stared at David with disbelief, holding his gaze until David became so uncomfortable that he sighed and began to pull the equipment on while grumbling under his breath. Once he was all suited up, David stood, feeling awkward and unbalanced as he did. “What now?” he asked, his voice sounding strange in his ears from behind the mask.
“Follow me,” Pierre told him, and without looking back, he grabbed his hockey stick and skated out onto the ice again, circling the puck and coming to a stop in front of it. When David was next to him, Pierre pointed to the goal, inclining his head in the same direction. “In the goal,” he instructed shortly.
David's eyes widened and his heart pounded in his chest. “In the goal?!” he asked, the fear apparent in his voice.
“That's what I said,” Pierre responded shortly.
“Where people aim the puck?!” David continued, only sounding more scared.
“Well you can't skate for shit, you're awkward with a hockey stick, and you have no aim or power when it comes to passing,” Pierre spewed without hesitation, obviously not caring if his words hurt David's feelings or not. It surprised David a little that they did. “And honestly, I think one good body check and you'd be out for the rest of the game,” Pierre continued, shaking his head now. “I figure if you can't do any of that, maybe you'll be better at protecting your face when a giant piece of rubber comes flying at it.”
David scoffed again, staring at Pierre for several long seconds before it dawned on him that there was going to be no changing the other boy's mind. He sighed heavily and shook his head, glad that things were back to normal and Pierre was being an asshole as usual. Intimate, understanding, caring Pierre freaked David out. It wasn't normal. It wasn't right. After everything that Pierre had done to him and his best friend, there wasn't a single part of David that wanted to like Pierre as a person. The idea of him being anything other than the villain of the story was something that David just couldn't fathom.
When he got to the goal and turned around, Pierre wasted no time in shooting a puck straight at him. David yelped and jumped to the side, landing on the cold ice on his side with his arms tucked over his head. “Oh come on!” Pierre yelled at him in disbelief. “Get up! It's not that fucking hard!”
David glared hard at the ice and growled quietly before plucking up all the courage and dignity he had left and pushing himself to standing again. “Okay fine!” David yelled back at him, and he stared hard at Pierre, getting his hands ready. Pierre pulled his stick back and David felt his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest, his throat restrict and his stomach flutter with anticipation and nerves. The sound of the stick slapping against the puck rang through the rink and without having to tell himself to do anything, David simply reacted, his arm stretching out and his hand closing when he felt something smack into the mitt. He didn't know when his eyes had closed but it suddenly occurred to him that he held something in his hand and he opened his eyes, unfolding his hand and watching as the puck fell to the ice. “Holy crap,” he whispered.
“Dude! You did it!” Pierre exclaimed. David turned to look at him, too stunned himself to be surprised at how supportive the other boy sounded.
“Do it again,” David told him quietly, sounding unsure, and Pierre nodded and pulled another puck out of his pocket, throwing it down and getting ready to send it flying David's way. David prepared himself and even though this time it flew to the opposite side of him, he still reached out and caught it almost effortlessly, stunning himself further. His jaw dropped and he gave an incredulous laugh, clearly shocked and amazed that he had been able to do it again.
“Holy shit! We found something you're actually good at!” Pierre exclaimed as he skated to the goal where David was standing frozen, unable to explain even to himself why he felt so elated in that moment. Pierre grabbed onto David's arms and shook him slightly, smiling and giving a laugh and a hearty, “Badass, dude!”
David grinned and turned to look at Pierre, his arms held out to the side slightly making it obvious how surprised he was, himself. “That was so cool!” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Yeah dude, that was fuckin' sick,” Pierre told him with a charming, boyish grin.
“I don't even know how I did that! One second you were about to hit it and then BAM! It was in my hand!” David continued, looking from mitt to mitt as if they were magical somehow. “I can't believe I actually did that!” he admitted, looking back to Pierre with a huge smile on his lips.
“Catch pucks like that and there's no way coach won't put you on the team,” Pierre told him, smiling more at David's smile. “High five, man,” he added, holding his right hand up in the air.
David shook the mitts off and moved his right hand up toward Pierre's, slapping it with enthusiasm and sportsmanship. It was something that he had never felt before and yet it was something that he knew he needed to feel again. For a moment, Pierre Bouvier was no longer his enemy. For a moment Pierre felt like a team mate, maybe even a friend. The two clasped hands in a boyish manner, though as their hands dropped down to a more natural height, neither one let go. Slowly the smiles slipped from their faces and the two boys looked at each other, each wearing a new, more subdued look. There was a long moment in which David and Pierre simple stared at one another in a dazed fashion, both breathing in a slow, shallow manner. Then, as if suddenly realizing they were holding hands, the two broke apart.
Pierre stole a puck off the ground and pushed it toward the center of the rink, looking anywhere but at David, while David blushed and turned around, pretending to take great interest in the net behind him and how it was woven. Get it together! David scolded himself mentally, giving his head a little shake as if trying to rid Pierre Bouvier from his brain. He had momentarily let his guard down again and Pierre's charm had worked its way into his head, confusing him. He wasn't a friend, he was enemy number one, and David couldn't let himself forget that. So, with a feeling of determination, he turned around and faced Pierre once more, reminding himself that the other boy was his arch nemesis and that he was going to stop at nothing to destroy him, just as Pierre had spent the majority of their lives doing to him.