Running to the Enemy's Arms

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

This is NOT my fanfic. This is deadlydaisy8o8's fanfic. I am merely editing grammatical and punctual errors. Enjoy.

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AN:/ It's short. I don't really feel like an author's note today.

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Running to the Enemy's Arms

Chapter 22: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

By: deadlydaisy8o8

Originally Uploaded: Thursday, September 9, 2010, 7:31 PM

Edited by: MerciLani; Friday, November 23, 2018, 9:56 PM

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Danny's P.O.V.

I hadn't gone to sleep in the limo today like I did yesterday. One, I didn't want to get my suit all wrinkly, and two, I could this time to do some research. I had my laptop out and... well, on my lap, and I was going through that school networking site, reading as much as I could.

What was I researching exactly? What people had said about me so far. Believe me when I say that they had said a lot. I was questioning whether these people did anything besides spread gossip. There was enough about me on here that I decided to make a list of things that had stuck out or come up repeatedly.

-People call me "Masters" because it sounds like they are referring to me as "master" and are trying to suck up.

- Remembering names is important. When I don't, it makes me look stupid.

-I need to figure out the difference between a salad fork and a regular fork, and a teaspoon vs. a tablespoon.

-I swing my briefcase a little when I walk; that has to stop.

-I need to stay away from discussions I had no background knowledge of.

That was the stuff I thought was important enough to write down. There was some stuff that I was going to ignore, like I smiled too much. That was just stupid. If you ask me, it was the other way around. These people didn't smile enough. I didn't care that I got crap for helping that girl with her books either. That was another one of those things that weren't going to change. These people may all be jerks, but that didn't mean I had to be one too. The trick with this was being a jerk to the right people.

The limp made another turn and I could see the school now through the trees. I put my laptop back in my suitcase and closed it beside me. I ran a hand through my hair one more time to make sure none of it was sticking up at any weird angles. I had to do this right. Shoulders back, chin up, and no pockets.

Unlike yesterday, we were not the only ones in the parking lot. Limos were everywhere. I finally understood why the parking spaces were so long. There wasn't a singular regular car in the student lot. And by that, I mean they were all limos or sports cars that looked like they cost over $200,000.

We pulled into the drop off lane and waited for a minute. I watched as people got out of their limos, paying close attention to how they went about it. If I wanted to make the right entrance, I was going to have to do things exactly as they did. As we pulled forward I braced myself. Here goes nothing.

The limo rolled to a stop and I waited for the driver to come around and open the door.

"We have arrived, Mr. Masters." I tried for the life of me to remember the guy's name so I could thank him, but I was coming up short. Why didn't these guys wear name tags? I was about to get out of the car and improvise when I remembered I had to hand the driver my suitcase first.