Brighter Than the Stars

Annabelle - Broken Noses and Bad News

"Nicole, why is Max claiming that you broke his nose?" James demanded. "He's being a pain about it, too. Hasn't shut up once. I can't tell if he's over inflated the story or if you genuinely 'attacked him viciously for no reason and from behind continued to punch him even when you asked him to stop, until everything was covered in blood.'"

"Did I actually break it?" she asked hopefully, sitting up straighter.

"Nicole." Leo sighed. "She didn't attack him from behind. It was technically a fair fight, she just ended up better off."

"He started it," Nicole said, "and he deserved it."

"He's a prick," James agreed, "so I have no doubt he did. But why?"

Nicole stared at her boots before she finally said softly, "He called Leo a coward."

"I had to drag her off him," Leo said, "and I would suggest making sure the two's paths never cross again. It was...ugly." He glanced at Nicole. "You should have walked away."

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "He was being a jerk, and I didn't like him. Then he told me I couldn't. He was asking for it, and so that's what he got. If he wasn't able to hold his own, he never should have said any of it. He wanted a fight, so I gave him one. He lost and that's not my problem."

I leaned over and gave her a high-five, which she begrudgingly accepted. "Awesome!"

"Annabelle!" Leo protested. "Don't encourage her." He looked back at Nicole. "You need to apologize."

"I won't."

James shrugged. "I don't care if you do or not. Max is a jerk–he deserved it, even if you did just jump him, because the guy's one of the most annoying people I know, and I know Annabelle."

"Hey!"

James grinned. "I'll tell him to shut up a few more times; he seems to go deaf everytime I tell him, though. I'll also tell the real story." He dropped his head into his hands. "Do you think this is an acceptable reason to just get rid of him? I'm so sick of this kid. It's not like he's even competent or anything."

"I say get him a cake and put 'you're getting kicked out' on it in icing, so he thinks he's getting it for something good and then he sees it properly and finds out he's not," I suggested. "Then, you get cake into the bargain, too."

"If he's even literate," James said. "Which is doubtful. You know what, though, I might actually do that...Leo, do you think your mom would make the cake?"

"She wouldn't frost 'you're getting kicked out' on anything, so no."

"That's s'okay–I'll add that on later."

"I'll help you make it," Nicole volunteered.

"Neither of you can cook," Leo protested, "and you shouldn't be making people cakes with nasty messages on them, anyway!"

"I'll help," I said. "I can cook decently. Not Leo-level, but I've gotten practice from those cinnamon twists. And I don't have any qualms about being rude to someone through a cake."

"Maybe you should!" Leo said.

We looked at each other and shrugged. "I'm still not feeling any potential remorse about it," James said. "Anyone else?"

"Nope," Nicole and I chouresed. Leo sighed.

...

A crash startled me out of my daydream, and I nearly stabbed myself with my sewing needle. I looked up at Madeline, who had dropped a newspaper and a few books she had been holding, and was bending to pick them up. It was unlike her to do anything that didn't seem graceful or coordinated, and I raised my eyebrows. "Are you...good?"