FP Jones Daughter

Chapter 20

Alice: It was our junior year. Phones had cords, Winona had Johnny, and everything smelled like team spirit. The world was a different place and we were very different people. Back then, I was Alice Smith. A bad girl from the wrong side of the tracks with enviable hair, no real friends... 

Young Alice whispers: Please no, please no, please no. 

Alice: And one huge problem. 

YA: Dammit.

Young Hermione: Is everything okay in there? 

YA: Go, mind your own business, Hermione, shouldn't you be in church? 

YH: Oh, crap, girl. Are you... 

YA: It's probably a false positive. It happens all the time. 

Young Sierra: Yeah like 3% of the time. 

YH: No one is talking to you, Sierra. 

YA: Oh, what am I going to do? I tried to talk to him and he blew me off for some vixen he's screwing. Ha, classic. Fp Jones.

YH, YS: Fp Jones?

Young Penelope: Well, well, well... I thought I heard a party in here. Hall passes, ladies. 

YA: Oh, it's up your ass, Penelope. 

YP: Classy as always, Alice Smith. Just curious. Were you born with that mouth, or is it something Southside mothers teach their bastard babies? 

Young Alice takes a deep breath and faces young Penelope and slaps her across the face. Young Penelope tells young Alice "you trashy bitch". Young Alice grabs Young Penelope by the shoulders and gets in a catfight. 

boy: Come on Fp. it's Bulldog tradition. 

All: Streak, streak, streak, streak, streak... 

young Fp: My arms in a cast Mantle. 

Young Mantle: Doesn't matter. 

Fp: Come on Marty. I'm not doing it. 

Young Fred: I'll go with you. 

YFp: Freddie Andrews. Why? You're not even on our team? 

Young Fred: No, but the baseball team got me to streak last year and got me some serious creds with the ladies, so... Run fast enough and all they'll see is a blur. 

Alice: We were invincible. Or at least we thought we were. That little stunt landed Fp and Fred in hot water. 

School bell rings...

Principle Featherhead: Welcome to Saturday detention. 

Alice: Gathered in that classroom, we were strangers, more than friends. And none of us could have guessed that our lives were about to change forever... It was just supposed to be one Saturday. Eight hours. Six people with seemingly nothing in common. The bad girl. 

Featherhead: Alice Smith?

Alice: The rebelling Catholic.

Featherhead: Hermonie Gomez?

Alice: The teacher's pet.

Featherhead: Penelope Blossom?

Alice: The artist-athlete.

Featherhead: Fred Andrews?

Alice: The Political animal.

Featherhead. Sierra Samuels?

Alice: And the ladies man.

Featherhead: Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr.?

Alice: Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr. He was the BOMC, an all-American athlete. A stud muffin as we used to say. He was different back then, Betty, Y/n. Trying to be something other than he was. But still trouble. I was as tough as nails, but around Fp, silly putty. Even in detention, with the secret growing inside me, I hated him. But I wanted him.