A/N: Ha ha! Payback's a bitch...

- XII -
Where the Beast strikes back

Some days later, still late January.

Coach Proppato’s hernia must have been acting up again because he was in a spectacular mood, Keefe thought dryly as he made his way up the bleachers for the bajillionth time. The coach had decided that the event of fifth period physical education would be sprinting up and down the rickety wooden gymnasium bleachers…for the entire class period. Though VHS’s bleachers were not as tall or involved as ones in bigger schools, Keefe still thought it a bit torturous to make the students run up and down them for the entire fifty minute period. If Coach Proppato had any hopes of getting onto Keefe’s list of All-Time Awesomely Cool People, they were zapped now. The man’s already less-than-stellar popularity among the students definitely took a hit this day.

Even Oscar had been referring to him as “Captain Nasty of Panty-Bunge Land.”

When class was finally over, the boys were so disgustingly sweaty they all actually took showers, something that didn’t happen often because, well, it was weird to take a shower at school. Since there were only three shower stalls in the locker room, Keefe had to wait his turn. And since he had a peculiar and compulsive fear of showering in the locker room, Keefe had to wait until every one of his classmates were well out of the showering area. Once it was clear, he quickly went through the motions, not only because he was running out of time before the bell rang but also because he was getting the heebie-jeebies from the whole public shower idea.

Something he’d have to get over come fall, when he’d probably end up in a dorm with communal showers, he thought a bit dismally.

“Remember to buy flip flops,” he mumbled to himself, adding to his mental list of what to buy for college life. Then he tried not to think about what his bare feet could possibly be picking up from the aged tile floor at this particular moment.

He sped out of the shower and noticed the locker room was quiet. The other guys must have moved back into the gym to await their dismissal with the bell. He went to the bench where he had left his gym clothes and found nothing. Just a plain old bench. No clothes in sight.

Keefe gave a light sigh and tightened the towel around his waist, “Oh we’re doing that today, huh?”

He turned and easily made his way from the showers to the actual locker area, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and urine that was typical of the place.

“Osco, you mongrel,” he called, his voice echoing off the cement that surrounded him and filling the empty room. “I don’t think we have time for this game. The bell’s going to ring any second.”

Oscar and Keefe had a somewhat ongoing game of occasionally stealing one another’s clothes when the other’s back was turned. A battle of wits generally ensued and Keefe wasn’t sure if he was up to it. The whole shower thing had left him off-kilter.

“You cannot conquer me, showers,” he said and held up a triumphant fist, already feeling better as he stepped into the maze of blue locker rows. Oscar still hadn’t made a peep.

“Osco, I’m going to start believing those ‘Oscar has a man-crush on Keefe’ suspicions I’ve been having,” Keefe chirped as he looked around the corner of their lockers only to find no trace of Oscar. He let out another sigh. Usually when they played the “hide the clothes” game, he would find Oscar sitting on the bench in front of their locker, beaming proudly. He would then say something like, “Time to play hide-n-seek, Keefecake,” or something equally sly and then the hunt would be on.

But there was no sign of him.

Keefe found it odd but then wondered if perhaps Oscar had just been a pal and taken his gym clothes back to his locker, to await their future laundering, before he returned to the gymnasium. Here he was, thinking the worst of his buddy and for all he knew he had done a nice gesture.

Possible, but doubtful, Keefe mused. He probably wouldn’t see his gym clothes for a week or so, which meant he’d have to borrow some and really tick off Coach Proppato, which was always fun. Keefe grinned. At least he had his normal clothes.

He stepped up to the locker, tightening the towel around his waist when it began to slip and began spinning the combination into the lock. This was another reason why he didn’t like taking a shower at school: practical jokes were prevalent and usually left you wandering around in a towel for awhile. It couldn’t be avoided though, he had gotten entirely too sweaty today and as much as he’d like to be known as “that smelly guy”…

He finished the combination and lifted the tab, opening the locker and halting the minute his eyes fell on the contents.

It was not his beloved coat and hat, his shirt and jeans, his Chucks, his scarf, his backpack. They had been replaced with what looked like a white leotard and a matching hoop skirt shoved and folded carefully into the locker’s depths. Hanging from the top of the locker and right at his eyeline was a pair of stiletto high heels in clear, tacky plastic. They were huge, probably big enough to fit his feet but just barely. They must’ve been modeled for a giantess.

Tied on the shoes was a note written neatly on weathered and yellowed paper.

Speechless, Keefe pulled the note off the shoes and unfolded it, reading the swirling calligraphy in utter shock:

Time to get dressed for the ball, Cindersoot!
Luckily I was able to magic up the perfect sized glass slippers for you!
When you’re all dolled up, meet your prince at number 628.
She can’t wait to see you in your gown!
Love, your Faerie Godmother

Keefe let out a bellowing gasp, his jaw dropping and his eyes bugging out. He read over the script a half a dozen times more before it fully sunk in. He lowered the note and lifted his wide eyes, staring at nothing.

“She’s absolutely wicked,” he huffed. “An absolutely wicked genius.”

“She made me do it, Keefecake!” a little frantic voice said to the left of him.

Keefe whirled around to see Oscar peeking around the side of the lockers, his magnified eyes looking even bigger with his trepidation.

“I didn’t want to, but I had to!” he squeaked. “She made me open the locker for her while you were showering; she made me take your gym clothes! She didn’t even care that she was a chick in the dudes’ locker room! She just came on in like the angel of death and started throwing around demands! I swear I didn’t want to do it, but she’s just so damn big and terrifying, especially compared to me! She can melt your brain with her eyes, I swear she can!”

Keefe threw out his pointer finger, aiming it right at Oscar, who cringed.

“Where are my gym clothes, Osco?” Keefe said sternly.

Oscar grimaced painfully, responding in an airy gasp, “She has them.”

“And my real clothes?”

“Yep,” Oscar said woefully.

Keefe groaned, scrunching his face, “She’s an absolute genius.”

“She also hid the key to the extra gym clothes closet and threatened to kick the head in of any guy who offers to let you borrow any of his clothing, gym or regular,” Oscar lamented.

“She was busy while I was lathering, rinsing and repeating,” Keefe said flatly. “Astounding.”

“I’m sorry buddy, I didn’t want to do it, but she threatened to squeeze me ‘til I popped! Now normally I’d call her bull-corn, but she looks like she actually could squeeze me ‘til I popped!” Oscar’s Coke-bottle eyes almost tripled in size.

“Oh she could,” Keefe said in a hissing whisper reminiscent of Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry. Narrowing his eyes, he stared ahead at nothing. “It’s alright Oscar, don’t blame yourself. We never could’ve foreseen the depth of her depravity.”

“No, no we couldn’t,” Oscar shook his little head guiltily for a moment before his face screwed up, puzzled. “What does depravity mean?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Keefe said lowly, feeling and looking quite determined. “Come on, Osco. I’m going to need some help getting into this thing.”

“You’re actually going to wear that?” Oscar’s squeaky voice got even squeakier as Keefe wrestled the unruly hoop skirt out of the locker.

“Oh hell yeah I am,” Keefe’s eyes narrowed more as he yanked the hanging stilettos down and grabbed the leotard. “I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of me backing out of a challenge. I’m Keefe Beatty, damn it, and I don’t let the possibility of dressing in drag and walking the school halls in front of the entire student body get me down. I laugh at her attempt to make me a quitter. I guffaw at it, in fact,” he said heroically.

“You’re a role model, Keefecake,” Oscar whispered, applauding with sheer admiration.

“Thank you, my dear Osco,” Keefe replied in his husky Dirty Harry tone. “Now let’s get to it,” he put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder to keep his balance when he’d have to lift and wrench his leg through the unforgiving spandex of the leotard.

Oscar shuddered and genuflected, then got to work aiding his friend.

The walk from the gym to Andie’s locker proved to be an experience Keefe would remember for quite awhile. Too used to being the oddball and having people stare at him (what with dancing to classes and wearing what they deemed “weird” hats and outfits) it was nothing new to have a few pairs of eyes watch him as he passed.

But to have every pair of eyes watch him, now that was a new one.

He would’ve strutted if the stilettos had allowed it, but he found that having a swagger was not very possible in five inches heels and a hoop skirt (even though the skirt was pretty short on him – hitting him mid-calf – it swayed and rocked against him, totally off-putting his balance.) After awhile he knew he just had to try and remain upright and mobile, swaggering would just have to wait for another day.

Snorts and snickers and full-out shouts of laughter were pretty frequent, and he got plenty of comments from the male section of passing students, but it was nothing too horrible. Keefe Beatty wasn’t one to get embarrassed easily, mostly because he didn’t care what people thought, so the points and the chuckles hardly affected him.

But still, even the perpetually unbothered Keefe Beatty could get a little worked up by the scenario he was in, and so kept his pace steady as he hobbled his way through the students, heading right for locker 628, like he had been instructed in the note, where he was sure Andie would be waiting.

Sure enough, as he neared the area, he saw her leaning back against the locker, arms and legs crossed, pointed in his direction with an expectant smirk. He knew she caught sight of him when she bent over with a boisterously loud laugh.

Under different circumstances, he would’ve thought it was a very infectious and fun laugh, but he wasn’t about to find anything about her endearing at the moment.

He stepped up to her and immediately felt the presence of other students gathering around. Oscar threatened them with his “ninja master moves” if they didn’t mosey on but, as usual, they didn’t listen to the little guy. Keefe appreciated his effort.

Andie stood straight up again, making her hood fall off her head though, oddly, she didn’t seem to care. Apparently she was too consumed with the scene ahead. The thin veil of hair on her left side barely covered any of her marred head but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. She had her hand over her mouth and was laughing so hard she was silent. Her sharp eyes were scrunched shut and her scarred nose was crinkled. Tears were drizzling down her cheeks.

Keefe gave an indignant huff. Oscar said with narrow-eyed bravado, “We meet again, mistress of darkness.”

Andie chuckled a little more, looking smug as ever.

Keefe put his hand out toward Oscar, and the little guy let him take the stage, taking a step back and trying to ward off the crowd again. Keefe then turned his attentions to Andie.

“I don’t even want to know where you got this stuff,” he said, pointing to the get-up.

Andie laughed again and had to take a moment to compose herself before she could speak. She was still giggling as she said, “The hoop skirt and leotard were my great-grandmother’s, uncle Donnie had them up in the attic, and the shoes I got from a drag queen clothes store online,” she smiled. “Your feet are so damn big I figured that was the way to go.”

Drag queen shoes. Superb.

He took a breath. “I bestow upon you the great gift of a million rubber rats filling your locker and this is how you thank me?” he shrieked as he pointed to his dress again.

Finally over the bulk of her giggles, she beamed brighter than the sun, “No, actually this is how I thank you.”

She then did an odd little twist, jumping in the air and spinning so her back was to him before sticking out her butt and waving it in a silly little dance somewhat resembling the little dance he had done for her after the rat fiasco. She flapped her hands in an almost impeccable impression of his marionette-like dancing style, smiling proudly and jerking her body triumphantly, making sure to keep shaking her butt in his direction.

Before he could stop himself, he snorted in laughter. Smacking his hand over his mouth, he gasped and then pointed at her, shouting, “Don’t make me laugh! Don’t you dare make me laugh right now! I am livid with you! LIV-ID!” he pronounced slowly and wiped his smile and snort away. “Livid to the point of being ludicrously so!”

Andie stopped her dance and crossed her arms, still smiling in her smug way, “What’s the matter, precious? Are the ‘glass’ slippers a little too tight?”

His eyes narrowed and Dirty Harry returned, “The shoes are a dream actually. I’ve never been so comfortable in my life, they make my calves look fantastic too!” he bit off his words tersely. “So if you think you’ve really gotten me, destroyed me, embarrassed me sufficiently, then you are mistaken, my prince! For I am quite unbothered!” he stressed loudly.

“Hey Beatty, where’re your tits?” a male voice shouted from who knows where and the crowd in the hall broke out in laughter.

Keefe’s shoulders fell and his expression dulled.

She raised a brow, looking pointedly at his leotard-covered chest, “Yeah, Beatty, where are they? Why don’t you show us your tits?”

“Wouldn’t want to make you jealous, sweetheart,” he cooed and those around him “oohed” at the insult.

Andie just threw her head back with a hearty laugh. It ended in a wheeze that almost made Keefe snort again but he kept it under control.

“Keefe?” now a decidedly female voice shrieked to the side.

Andie and Keefe turned to see Becca Wolf Fang had parted the crowd and now was staring at Keefe like she had never been so horrified in her life. If her dark skin had allowed it, she’d probably be chalk white.

“Hey, hey, good-lookin’,” Oscar purred and shot Becca a magnified wink. Naturally, she ignored him.

“What are you doing?” she looked near tears, like Keefe had successfully ruined her life for being in this situation.

“He got dressed up for me, sweetie,” Andie said bitingly, giving Becca an evil grin. “Is he devoted or what?”

Becca looked feral now, turning a red-hot glare in Andie’s direction, which Andie seemed to take carelessly. Keefe opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.

“Mr. Beatty, what do you think you’re doing?” Ms. Mulberry – one of the more conservative and thus least-liked deans of the school - stated, her voice allowing quite a lot of her shock to come through. She had appeared behind Becca and looked about two seconds away from calling the other dean on her walkie-talkie.

Keefe’s expression fell again into an almost bored state.

“I’ve dressed in drag to do the hula,” Keefe referenced The Lion King dryly, then looked at the dean and waved his hips back and forth in a poor rendition of the hula. He turned back to Andie, who had her hand over her mouth again to control her wheezy giggles.

He couldn’t help but let out a strained smile. The circumstances were just too insane.

“Step back, you unclean heathens! Don’t make me use my Jedi mind powers! I’ll kick your tails all the way to Tatooine!” Oscar’s garbled voice sounded quite on edge. Apparently he had abandoned his ninja moves for the more intimidating Jedi ones, though the students didn’t seem any more affected.

“Mr. Beatty,” Ms. Mulberry said in an authoritative tone, “I thought the horse and the rubber rats were crazy enough but this is definitely beyond anything I have imagined you would think up. Explain yourself or I’ll have to write you up.”

“Oh calm down,” Andie said with a sighing laugh. “You’re ruining the moment, just go away! He’ll be back to his regular attire in no time!”

Ms. Mulberry – along with the gathered students – looked aghast at Andie’s disrespect.

“Ms. Logan, let me remind you who you are talking to-”

“He’s not exposing himself in any way, every part of him is covered,” Andie motioned to Keefe diplomatically. “He’s not breaking any of the dress code rules; even the shoes have toes on them! We don’t have a uniform here and so as long as he stays within the dress code guidelines you have no right to punish him! There is no rule against leotards, hoop skirts or heels in the dress code guidelines, I checked. Are you really going to get him into trouble for dressing differently? Expressing himself in a different manner? I smell a lawsuit, sweetheart. I’m from L.A., I know all about them, and I’m sure you’d get in some serious trouble for stifling his creativity and freedom of expression.”

Jaws were hanging open by the end of that speech, even Keefe’s, and they all looked at Andie like they had never seen anything like her. Which they hadn’t, really.

“If the boy wants to dress in drag, that’s his prerogative, right?” Andie added, not looking at all flustered. “You can’t go around nay-saying that kind of thing anymore, Ms. Mulberry; you’ll get sued so fast you’ll be up to your eyeballs in legal debt before you even realize what’s going on.”

“Alright, alright,” Ms. Mulberry barked, looking pale and a bit confused, like she was trying to figure out if what Andie was saying was actually true. She was a bit too small town for her own good. The panicked expression on her face only seemed to secure Andie’s confidence. She continued to glow.

“I need to speak to the principal,” she muttered, confused and began backing up.

“Don’t worry about it, you spirit killer,” Andie said dryly. “I’ve got his regular clothes; he’ll be back in them before you reach Watatooka’s digs.”

Ms. Mulberry didn’t seem to know how to respond to that and since such a thing really humiliated her, she did the only thing she could do: straighten her back, look superior, and quickly book it toward the offices.

Andie rolled her eyes and turned back to Keefe, who was staring at her in awe. He then lifted a slow pointing finger and shook it at her, “You are nuts.”

Andie shrugged.

Still wide-eyed and shaking his finger, he said, “I love it!”

Andie snickered to herself just as Becca made a huffing squeak. Turning, Keefe and Andie saw as she whirled around and shoved her way through the students, huffing and growling in her screeching way before she went running in another direction.

Keefe wondered distractedly if he’d be hearing from Benny about this in a few days.

“Aw, the princess wasn’t pleased with your outfit,” Andie feigned a pout, looking back at Keefe. “But I think it’s totally you.”

Keefe narrowed his eyes at her, channeling Dirty Harry again and immediately forgetting the crowd, Becca and even Ms. Mulberry.

“So about that giving me my normal clothes back thing,” he said, lifting a brow.

“So soon?” Andie chirped, folding her arms again and cocking her head. “But you just got to the ball, and I – your prince – have only been able to ogle you for a few minutes!”

“Well I’m shy then,” Keefe retorted through clenched teeth.

“You have to dance a little bit,” Andie said, as if this was a totally obvious thing.

“What?” Keefe said flatly.

“Come on, you’re all dolled up and you have to impress your prince, Cinderella, or no happy ending for you!” Andie smiled gloriously, a hint of the old Andréa Donovan flashing through it though this time it actually made it to her eyes, making him think it was a purely Andie Logan smile.

“And we couldn’t have that now could we?” Keefe said wryly then grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. “Tell me what to do and quickly, I can practically feel this ridiculous leotard in my throat,” he wiggled his butt a little to release the wedgie, but to no avail.

“Just one twirl,” Andie batted her eyes with her innocent smile. Keefe could still see the sheer wickedness behind it though, right to the left of the twinkle in her eye. “Come on, twirl for me. I’m your prince, you’re my lady, surely you will dance for me,” she grinned.

Keefe took a deep breath, centered himself, then threw his head back, raised his arms and spun resplendently right there in the middle of the VHS hallway, where every student and administrator within a fifty foot radius could see. Hell, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right! He spun and twirled, did his own version of a pirouette (no where near the right way) and then did a fanciful little skip before ending with a dramatic bow right at Andie’s feet.

She was practically on the floor with her laughter.

Oscar held up all ten of his fingers like a judge giving his score at an Olympic event.

Some senior named Mark was walking by and saw the excitement and so had to call out in disgust, “What the hell are you doing, Beatty?”

“Nearly breaking my ankle,” Keefe grimaced, still amazed that he had not fallen over in those God-forsaken heels. Though he had twisted a few things, he was almost positive.

As many nearby laughed and pointed and gossiped, gossiped, gossiped, Keefe straightened his back, not even noticing the others around him, and looked pointedly at Andie. She was wiping away the tears and still wheezing a little with laughter.

“Alright my prince, I twirled,” Keefe said the last word rather bleakly. “Is it midnight yet?”

“Hmm,” Andie hummed and looked at her watch-less wrist. “I suppose it’s close enough. You sure you don’t want to kiss your prince?” she puckered her lips smartly.

“There are many things I’d like to do to my prince right now. Unfortunately, kissing’s pretty far down on the list,” Keefe replied.

“Alright,” Andie feigned disappointment, then did a dramatic turn, pulling a little pink plastic toy wand out from her back pocket. It was topped with a flashing purple star and had sprays of pink and white tinsel accentuating it.

“Are you my faerie godmother now?” Keefe asked.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Sweet,” he said lowly and held out an expectant hand, “I’d like my rags back, por favor.”

With the wand-less hand, Keefe saw her reach back and open up her unlocked locker. She began reaching around until she seemed to have found what she wanted.

“Alrighty roo,” she practically sang. “Ala-ka-ZAM!” she cried and popped him on the head with the wand, making him close his eyes and reflexively pull away with a grunt. A second later, when he was looking at her again, he saw his back pack, his gym and his normal clothes folded nicely in her hands, with his worn Chucks sitting primly on top, and a big grin on her face.

“Ball’s over, sweetness,” she glowed. “Hope you had a good time.”

Narrowing his eyes, Keefe stepped forward and swiped his clothes from her hands, settling them safely under his arm. Then he got right up into her face, narrowing his eyes even more and looking like he was challenging her.

The group of students surrounding them all but gasped. Was he actually going to pick a fight with the beastly new girl? They knew Keefe Beatty had his issues with weirdness, but they never thought he could be that stupid.

“First off, I must say this…” he said in a growling voice and lifted a finger. Andie stared back at him, unfazed. Keefe straightened his back, not pulling away from her but remaining within an inch of her face, “That was…astounding. Well done,” he then fisted his hand and offered it to her. With a small snort, she bumped his knuckles with her own.

“Absolutely priceless,” Keefe stated, still channeling Dirty Harry. “I’ve never seen a burn like it. Well done, my friend, well done.”

“Thanks,” Andie gave a sly smirk.

“With that said,” Keefe proclaimed loudly and with a feigned huff of indignance, “I’m free to be angry now. You suck and I never want to see your face again,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah okay,” Andie said with a low chuckle, crossing her arms and looking quite confident.

“Never,” Keefe stated, stepping away from her and in the direction of the boys’ bathroom. “This is our severance, this is our break. Our last hurrah! We’re done! I am never to see you ever again!”

“Okay,” Andie called after him as he made his way through the stunned student body. Ignoring the stares, Andie then chirped at Keefe, “See you after school then?”

“Of course!” his huffy voice echoed on the cement surrounding them as he disappeared into the bathroom, Oscar following closely behind him.

Andie laughed lowly in her throat, quite proud of herself, and then deemed it necessary to notice her peers. They were all looking at her oddly, in shock, in disgust (at least the girls were) and generally just plain staring at her.

She raised a superior eyebrow at them and said coldly, “Are your lives really that slow and insignificant? Fuck off already!”

Then she threw the wand into the locker, shut it and made her way to class, ignoring all the hateful glares that were shot at her the whole way there.