Danny Chapman - Entry for the Beauty and the Beast Competition

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  • Published: 25 Apr 2017
  • Updated: 25 Apr 2017
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Danny Chapman. The highschool heartbreaker. The teenage heartthrob. The star athlete of Hawks highschool.
And a royal pain in my ass.

**My entry for the Beauty and the Beast competition!**


1. Danny Chapman

Danny Chapman. The highschool heartbreaker. The teenage heartthrob. The star athlete of Hawks Highschool. 
And a royal pain in my ass.

Don’t you just hate it when you’re contently making your way through the school halls and suddenly it’s like havoc breaks loose and you’re jostled and knocked about by the crowds of aggressive fellow teenagers? Danny Chapman was often the cause of said havoc. Here I was just making my way to music class when I saw him round the corner with his boy band followers and suddenly every other girl instinctively looks up, ready to pounce the moment they get the chance.
I try to make a move for it before it’s too late, but I still catch an elbow to the ribs as Felicity Standford flies past me, her waist length blonde curls leaving a scent of strawberries behind her. 
“Danny,” she coos loudly and I swear the hall’s temperature rises as most of the girls glower in jealousy as she imprints his cheek with her bright red lipstick. “Why didn’t you call me back, baby?”
Danny wraps his arm around her waist and nuzzles her neck, making the girls around my huff. 
I huff too, but mainly because he and Felicity are blocking my way along with his ridiculous boy band.
“Excuse me,” I mumble and he stands upright, holding Felicity close to my face who seems delirious with love.
“Well, look who it is,” he smirks. “Don’t you have another piercing appointment to get to, Faith?”
“Try to be original,” I spit sarcastically back at him. This is about the extent of our communication. We’ve lived in the same town since we were kids so we’ve practically grown up together. From day-care to now, our final year of highschool, Danny Chapman has remained my faithful, annoying companion through life’s many up and downs. “What about you? Don’t you have a hooker you need to pick up?”
At this, Felicity snaps out of her fantasies and clutches Danny’s arm protectively. 
“Why do you have to be such a nasty bitch?”
“Learn to take a joke,” I tell her before Danny can answer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a class I can’t afford to miss so can you please ask your fans to make way?”
Simultaneously, the boy band parts and gives me an open path out of the growing hallway of females. 
“Catch you later, punk,” Danny calls after me.
“Catch you later, fuck boy,” I call back and smile to myself as he chortles.


What do I know about Danny? Practically everything. Nothing remains private in this school for very long. I think I even found out about his break-up with his second girlfriend of many before he did himself. I know he likes a good old fashioned McDonald’s cheeseburger every Friday night and he loves his pop music. His boy band, as I like to call them, are the boys he picked up over his years of school life and took under his wing to train into mini-Danny’s. You didn’t just become part of the boyband, you were chosen. 
I'm contemplating this as I pretend to listen to my math teacher rambling about algebra and some complicated equation. Is it possible that I know more about Danny than I do myself? It’s likely. He’s all anyone can talk about, even my friends.

“You should have been there,” my friend Krista tells me as we gorge ourselves on un unhealthy greasy school lunch of fries and lasagne. “Danny kicked the ball right between the post.”
“Wow,” I mutter sarcastically. “Imagine that. A footballer kicking a ball.”
“You could at least feign interest,” my other friend Josie tells me as she shakes her thick, curly black hair and pierces a fry with her fork. “You don’t have to be an uninterested bitch all the time.”
“I’m just saying,” I say around my mouthful of lasagne, “it would be nice to have a lunch conversation where Danny Chapman isn’t mentioned.”
“Did I hear someone say my name?” I hear his familiar deep voice and quickly swallow my food so I can turn around and give him the most sarcastic eyebrow raise I can muster.
“What’s this? Is the Danny Chapman so bored he’s actually keeping tabs on me?”
“Sorry, babe,” he plonks himself on the bench beside me and takes one of my fries. “If I hear my name call, I come hunting.”
“You must have a blast of a night time when all these hormonal teenage girls get hot and sweaty under their bed sheets.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he winks playfully at me and I punch his arm lightly, trying to ignore the looks Krista and Josie are throwing at each other. 
It’s not like this is abnormal. I wouldn’t say that Danny and I are friends, but we are more than acquaintances. We exchange sarcastic remarks in the hall, occasionally stop for a playful conversation, but otherwise, we can go for months without acknowledging each others presence. Each time we take the time though, it’s like a new treat to Krista and Josie who like to slower over the encounters like hungry dogs.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” I change the conversation as I move my lunch tray out of his reach. They’re my chips. 
“Probably topping up her makeup,” he shrugs. “I don’t really know, to be honest. One minute she’s gone and the next ‘m getting my face gnawed off.”
“Yuck,” I wrinkle my nose. “Keep the public displays of affection to a minimum, why don’t you?”
“I need a hit. I can barely survve the day if I don’t get off at least once.”
Krista giggles and Josie elbows her, pulling her up on her feet.
“I think we’re going to go for a walk,” Josie winks at me. “Don’t leave her here on her own, Danny. Faith can get up to all kinds of trouble.”
Checking there are no teachers around first, I give her the middle finger as she pulls a still giggling Krista after her, trying to ignore my slightly quicker heart beat.
Okay. Yes. Of course, I find him attractive. He’s Danny Chapman, the hottest guy Hawk’s High has to offer. It’s just that unlike the rest of the girls in the school, I try to keep my attraction hidden. 
“Don’t you eat lunch with your boy band?” I move my legs to sit sideways so I can face him.
“Boy band?” he asks, leaning over and moving my tray back between us. I decide to give up on my lazy efforts to guard my food. 
“Your man squad. They never really speak or do anything except walk behind you and look attractive.”
“Oh, the guys,” he laughs. “I have to give it to you, Faith. You’re creative with names.”
I touch my heart with my fist and bow my head. 
“Wow, did Danny Chapman just compliment me?”
“I can acknowledge the goodness in people when I feel like it.”
“When you feel like it,” I point out and he laughs.
“I have my days.”
“Well,” I tell him, “thank you for acknowledging my awesomeness.”
“Who doesn’t? You’re Faith.”
“And you’re Danny.”
“I’m glad we’ve learnt that much about each other.”
I burst out laughing and every head that isn’t already turned in our direction, turns to stare at what’s sure to be an interesting sight: the punk rocker Faith with her pierced eyebrow, black lipstick and studded boots and star athlete Danny Chapman, looking gorgeous as always with his bronze hair slicked back and his signature leather jacket over his white t-shirt that’s stretched to show off his abs and his classic black jeans. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine shoot. I look like I walked out of Twilight. 
“Not bad,” I giggle once I’ve calmed down enough. “You’re attractive and you can crack a good joke. Felicity has a keeper.”
“But can she keep him?” he asks, looking down at his food. I drop my smile, realising this is probably going to be a serious conversation now. I think about saying something sarcastic about how he can use them and ditch them easily, but part of me feels brave today. I’ve never had a serious conversation with him before so this is something to feel brave about.
“Are you going to break up with her?” I ask bluntly, wincing at how cold I sound. I should be angry at him for being such a user, but he’s Danny Chapman. That’s what he does.
“I’ve thought about it,” he tells me, looking up into my eyes with his honey coloured ones. “but I know what people will say.”
“Like what?”
“That I’m being a heartbreaker.”
I laugh but quickly stop myself.
“But that’s what you are. That’s what you do.”
“Seriously?” his stare goes stony. “If she breaks up with me, that’s good and okay. Every girl that’s broken up with me in the past, and believe me there’s been many, hasn’t had a word said about them. But every time I decide that a relationship is unhealthy or is making us unhappy and I end it, I’m enforcing the ‘heartbreaker’ label everyone has given me.”
I blink at him in confusion, realising now that perhaps my logic has been flawed. I think back to the past gossip on his relationships and realise he has a point. He is the one spoken of, not the girl in the situation. I guess that just comes with his famous status in the school.
He’s waiting for an answer, so I drop my gaze, deciding to do away with my confident coverup.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been one of those people.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugs and touches my arm lightly. “You’ve been my constant companion for years so you’ve watched me go from that raging child in daycare to the awkward middleschooler with bad acne, to this guy,” he gestures to himself. “You know me probably better then anyone.”
“Obviously not,” I correct him. “I only know what gossip has to say about you.”
“I haven’t really made it easy for you, though.”
“Nor have I. I’m the badass chick with an attitude and can barely speak a sentence without dropping sarcasm.”
“True,” he says thoughtfully and breaks out into a low laugh. “I guess if we want to, we could both work on actually having decent conversations instead of insulting each other.”
“I suppose I can give that a go,” I smile at him. “So does that mean we’re actually moving towards friendship?”
“It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s only been, what, thirteen years since we’ve known each other?”
“Touche,” he punches my arm lightly with a laugh.
The lunch bell rings and I snap out of our personal bubble and look around at the seething girls and the dumbstruck boy band.
“Your fans are waiting,” I say quietly and he feigns a groan.
“Being famous is so hard.”
“First world problems.”
I pile my phone and the rest of my stuff into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, watching him climb to his feet. Keeping my voice quiet so no one can hear me, I tell him,
“If you want to, you really should break up with Felicity. Regardless of what other people think, you need to do what’s best for you.”
“Thanks, Faith,” he smiles thankfully at me. “While I was telling you about it, I was kind of thinking how ridiculous my logic was.”
“I’m not one to admit that others have it worse than me, but I have to say, it’s got to be hard being the object of every discussion.” 
The second bell rings before he can respond so I start walking away from him, since he’s got to go in the opposite direction.
“I guess I’ll see you around?” I ask, hating that my voice sounds vulnerable and not confident like usual.
“Sure thing,” he smiles warmly at me. “Have a great rest of the day, Punk.”
Walking away, I flip him the middle finger and say loudly over my shoulder,
“You too, fuck boy.”
I bite my lip as I try to keep myself from smiling at his loud chuckles. 

Danny Chapman. Damn Danny Chapman.

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