A/N: Another Kane chronicles fic! This is the one based off of when Sadie says that she never got her friends in that much trouble, not even when they got shut in the boys' changing room. Feel free to point out any mistakes I made with British slang and all that, and I apologize in advance for any mistakes that I might have for that. I would just like to make this part clear so there's no confusion: In the quote, Sadie says "Dylan Quinn's knickers". I always thought of Dylan as a boy, but then I found out the knickers refer to girls. I think Dylan should be a boy, and besides, no offense to Rick Riordan, but he doesn't always get everything from other cultures right, Frank Zhang's "real" Chinese name being an example. So to avoid too much confusion, they're stealing his pants, which should be the right term I think, but Sadie calls them knickers because they look like knickers, and to annoy Liz. Please tell me if I got that wrong!

Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan, so therefore I do not own the Kane Chronicles or the characters or anything.

Why Did Dylan Quinn Have to Exist?

Chapter 1

"My poor friends. I'd never gotten them into this much trouble, not even when we got shut in the boys' changing room at school. (Long story, which involved a five quid bet, Dylan Quinn's knickers, and a squirrel. Perhaps I'll tell you later.)"

~Sadie Kane, The Throne of Fire, page 115

"Catch—that—squirrel!"

It was chaos. Pure chaos.

The squirrel ricocheted off the walls, chased by three mad, screeching girls. A platform shoe flew in the air, spiraling straight at the squirrel, but the squirrel just trilled and jumped to the side as the shoe hit the wall.

"Darn it!" Emma snapped, hopping on one foot as she stuck her bare foot in the air. She shook off her remaining shoe and pitched it at the squirrel, but the shoe missed again. Emma cursed. At least she lost her ridiculous shoes. She could run faster now and catch that squirrel!

"Corner it!" I squealed.

We ran for the squirrel, but it just jumped on top of the lockers, trilling.

"Liz! Hurry with the lockers, will you?" Emma cried.

"I'm trying!" Liz cried out as she frantically spun a combination on a lock, tugged on it, then stomped her foot and moved on to the neighboring locker. "I'm trying!"

Then a ball of brown fur catapulted in the air and shot past our faces, blurring as it gained speed. Screaming, we jumped back as the squirrel barely missed smashing into our heads.

"Run after it!" I shouted, regaining my composure.

It didn't help that we had to chase down the squirrel in the bloody boys' changing room. The boys' changing room, with not much running space for us, because of all the lockers and the benches, but plenty for the squirrel. And the disgusting stench emitting from the locker room did not help us run faster.

[Okay, so I'll explain why we were locked in the boys' changing room, chasing after a mental, lunatic, deranged squirrel. It all started the afternoon before, after school ended and Emma, Liz, and I were walking home…]

The bell rang, signaling the end of school, and the doors burst open, students spilling out of the cage. I pushed my way through the crowd of people, anxious to get out of the prison. Turning around, I called to my mates, "Emma! Liz! Hurry up!"

Emma rolled her eyes and pushed up her giant, gemmed glasses with one hand as she hiked her bag up the shoulder it was slung on with her other hand. She could have pushed her way through faster if it hadn't been for the furry miniskirt—yes, furry—that she was wearing and the tall platform shoes she always wore to add additional height to her midget-self. (She was always self-conscious about her height. In fact, that was why she spiked her hair up. She was dying for a growth spurt anytime soon, and she was actually getting her wish.)

Liz puffed behind her, pulling on her denim jacket over her light green shirt as she kept pace with Emma in her trainers. (Sometimes, Liz had more a lot more sense than Emma.) She pulled her fingers through her flaming red hair, and then glanced to her side, immediately blushing a deep red that hid her freckles. She quickly looked away, stumbling a little as she looked a little too obviously back at the door.

Hm. I looked over to Liz's left and saw Dylan Quinn navigating his way through the crowd whilst talking to his friend. Dylan reached out for a high-five from his mate, and his eyes wandered to his right, but he didn't seem to notice Liz and turned back to his mate.

As we pulled free of the crowd, I rolled my eyes at Liz, my ever-so boy-crazy friend. Emma grinned.

"So, Liz," Emma said as we walked down the pavement in front of the school. "What's this I hear about Dylan?" Liz's eyes widened.

"Yeah," I piped in. "Is this the, what, sixty-eighth bloke you've fancied?" Immediately, Liz blushed furiously again, her freckles hiding underneath the red on her cheeks. "Oh, look," I said gleefully. "Your freckles are hiding again!"

"So it's true?" Emma asked. I didn't doubt it. Honestly, how many boys have Liz and Emma fancied?

"No… well, fine. Maybe," Liz said, glancing behind her. "Would you quiet down? People will hear."

It wasn't like that'd be news to anyone though. Emma and Liz were way too boy crazy that I sometimes felt like smacking their heads to get them to stop giggling over a bloke.

"Liz!" Emma squealed. "This is brilliant! You two would look lovely together!"

Liz's face was absolutely aflame, and she glanced down. Perfect. Hidden freckles equaled the perfect opportunity for teasing.

"Oh, I do believe our mate's freckles are on holiday again," I snickered to Emma, who grinned back. "Why, they do love their holidays. Liz is so nice, letting them go on holiday all the time."

Emma reached out and patted Liz's arm. "Don't worry, Liz. Dylan will love you because of your kindness. Do you reckon he'll fancy a holiday from you, too?" Emma smirked.

Emma and I cackled while Liz glared at us. "Honestly, just give it a rest, you two!"

Seeing that Liz was ready to go into battle mode, Emma and I stopped laughing. After all, there was no need to see a full-on, angry, spitting Liz living up to her stereotypical easily-infuriated redhead status.

"Fine, let's talk about something else, then," I suggested, smirking at Liz. She narrowed her eyes back at me.

"Oh," Emma piped up, "like how mad Mrs. Banes went today."

Liz's eyes brightened, and she stopped her glowering to contribute to the conversation. "Who knew she could scream that much?" Liz snickered.

Emma nodded, widening her eyes in annoyance. "Her face went almost as red as Liz's can go," Emma added, and Liz gave her an indignant look. "It's true!" Emma defended.

Mrs. Banes definitely was the least popular teacher in our whole school. Maybe it was the way she lectured us, or maybe it was the way she picked on her students. But whatever the reason, I was not sorry for causing her to almost pop a blood vessel.

"She was lecturing us because we were sitting too close to the computer in the desks she placed in the room," I said. "I don't see how that was our fault."

"It looked like she was going to break the computer into bits," Liz remarked.

"I probably shouldn't have asked her if she really did know how to use a computer," I admitted, shrugging. "But honestly, that was a fair question. It's not like she looks like she's in her thirties!"

"You shouldn't have said that last part to her, either," Liz sighed, shaking her head.

"Are you kidding?" Emma exclaimed. "It was brilliant! Can't wait until she gets sacked."

A slight warm breeze blew around us and the sun shone brightly, the clouds floating around carelessly in the sky. We traveled down the pavement and neared the park, but just as we were crossing the road, a squirrel scurried past. Liz jumped back, squeaking.

For some reason, Liz had a terrible phobia of squirrels. Whenever Emma and I asked her about it, she'd just shake her head furiously and keep her mouth glued shut, refusing to talk about it. She'd even let us tease her all we wanted to about how red her face could get if it meant not talking about squirrels. Once, we bought her a stuffed squirrel that looked scarily real and put it in a box. When she opened it, she screamed, dropped the box on the ground, and ran out. She refused to talk to us for a week after that.

"Calm down, Liz," I said. "It's only a squirrel."

"Those nasty little animals." Liz squirmed. "I hate them!"

Emma crouched down, grinning, and leaned out her hand towards the squirrel, coaxing it to come nearer. As she turned back to smirk at Liz, who was glaring fiercely at Emma, heavy footsteps pounded the pavement behind us and the squirrel perked up, looked around, and ran away. We turned around and saw a group of four girls advancing our way. In front of the group was Danielle.

"Oh, hi Sadie, Emma, Liz!" Danielle greeted.

"Hi."

Danielle was a nice enough girl once you got to know her and was really cheery and bright, though I heard talk that she had a dark side. She was also really blithe and often did things without thinking. [What? That last part doesn't sound like anyone else I know. Shush. I'm telling a story.]

"We were just making bets," Danielle said brightly. "I bet Leah that she couldn't eat one of those bugs on that tree." Danielle pointed to a tree a bit behind them. "But," she continued admiringly, "she did!"

"Um, congratulations, then," I said, not knowing what else to say—"Way to show that bug! You chew"? I didn't think so.

Leah grimaced and chugged down half the water in her water bottle.

"And I bet Heather," Danielle continued, "that she can't go the whole day tomorrow without talking. And I bet Bethany that she can't walk the whole way home on one leg."

Bethany was indeed hopping around on one leg and Heather was blabbing on and on about some random rubbish to make up for tomorrow.

"So," Danielle said. "Do you lot fancy making a bet?"

I'd rather not eat a bug, thanks. I've eaten a bug before. That definitely wasn't my best memory. (Long story. Well, here's a piece of advice: if you're baking biscuits, don't leave the biscuit batter by an open window whilst you go out to take a walk so a bug can jump into the batter. And if that happens, don't not notice the bug, bake the biscuits, then force them upon your granddaughter, using the, "I worked so hard on them; I was sure you'd love them," blackmail with a frail look on your face. And if your granddaughter relents after two hours of prodding, don't give her the biscuit with the bug in it and watch her eat it.)

Anyway, I was getting sidetracked.

"Um, sure?" Liz said uncertainly as she glanced at Emma and me, and we shrugged.

"Hm," Danielle murmured, "let me think of one."

While Danielle thought, Bethany hopped around on one foot, wobbling. "Danielle," Bethany cried, "can you hurry up?"

"Huh?" Danielle looked up just in time to see Bethany wobble around and finally fall down on the pavement. "Brilliant!" Danielle smiled. "You owe me a quid."

Grumbling, Bethany stood up and kicked the ground. She reached into her pocket and grumpily thrust a pound into Danielle's outstretched hand.

"Oh!" After she stuck the quid into her pocket, Danielle looked back towards the school, her eyes focusing on a bloke far away. "I bet you a quid that you lot can't nick a pair of Dylan Quinn's pants!"

It took me a moment to process what she said. When it fully got through my head, I recoiled, scrunching my nose in disgust. What kind of girl gave a bet like that? Liz and Emma had similar reactions.

"What?" Liz shrieked, her cheeks burning. "Why would we want to do that?"

"Are you mad?" Emma said.

"And I suppose you want us to give you the pants so you can cuddle with them at night?" I asked.

Danielle's cheeks flushed. "Of course not!" she stuttered. "Someone gave me that dare, but I didn't accept it because Dylan and I… um… Anyway!" She cleared her throat and quickly rushed on, a faint pink tinting her cheeks. "So I thought that maybe you lot would be able to do it as a bet."

"No thanks," Emma said.

"I'd rather not touch his pants," Liz said as her freckles kept hiding.

"A quid for all three of us?" I asked. "That's a rip-off."

And truthfully, it was. But it wasn't as if I was going to accept the bet.

"Fine," Danielle sighed. "I'll give you two quid."

"Two quid?" Emma scoffed. "Do you think we'll want to touch Dylan's pants for two quid?"

I faked a cough as I glanced sideways at Liz; Liz stepped on my foot. It didn't hurt too much. At least she wasn't wearing platform shoes like a certain individual standing not too far away from me.

"How about twenty quid?" I asked, smirking, wanting to see Danielle blanch.

I wasn't disappointed. "Twenty quid?" Danielle repeated, her mouth dropping open. "Are you mad?"

"No. Are you?" I accused. "I suppose you are, with that bet of yours."

"There's no way I'm giving you twenty quid," Danielle said, ignoring Heather as she tapped Danielle on the shoulder. "Three quid."

"Three?" I said. "That's rubbish. Eight. Eight quid. And I think your mate wants to talk to you."

As Danielle turned around to talk to a loudly blubbering Heather, Liz grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "Sadie!" she hissed. "We are not nicking Dylan's pants."

"Relax," I whispered. "We're not nicking pants. I'm just arguing for fun. She won't agree."

"Besides," Emma added. "I know you'd want to nick his pants, Liz."

Liz reddened. "I would not!"

"Your freckles beg to differ," Emma snickered.

I scrunched up my nose. "That's just disgusting. I'd rather not touch them, so let's stop talking about that."

We hushed up, Emma still smirking at Liz, and Liz trying to act as if she would not want to nick Dylan's knickers. Danielle turned back from her talk with Heather. "Right, sorry about that," she said. "And no, I'm not giving eight quid."

Emma exchanged looks with me and grinned. "Are you afraid you'll actually have to lose eight quid?" Emma asked, playing along.

Danielle scoffed. "The only way I'd bet even five quid is if you lot did something more," she said as her eyes scanned the pavement and landed on another squirrel. "Like if you nicked his pants and replaced them with a squirrel."

A squirrel?

"What?" Liz cried. Her face had rapidly paled, making her freckles stand out against her face. She tugged at her hair nervously.

"Hm," Danielle murmured. "Five quid that you lot can't nick a pair of Dylan Quinn's pants and replace it with a squirrel? You've got a bet!"

"Wait, what?"

Danielle and her mates started walking away. "Five quid!" Danielle called over her shoulder. "Pants! Squirrel!"

"Sadie!" Liz shot me a horrified look.

What was Danielle playing at, that git? "I didn't even agree!" I exclaimed. I took in Liz's horrified expression, her eyes full of panic, and shot after Danielle. "Oi! Danielle! Wait!"

Danielle stopped walking and turned around. "What?"

"I never accepted the bet," I said as I slowed down to a stop in front of Danielle and held up my hand. "The bet's off."

Danielle smiled sweetly and shook her head. "You've already agreed. You can't call the bet off. Silly Sadie."

"But I never agreed!" I cried.

"Yes, you have," Danielle explained slowly, as if I were a two-year-old child who couldn't easily punch her face. "By wagering the amount of money in the bet, you've agreed."

That had absolutely no logic to it at all, and I scowled. "You know what?" I asked. "Fine. We've lost. I'll give you your five quid."

"Ah," Danielle said, wagging her finger. "But as you haven't even attempted the bet yet, you'll have to triple the payment. Fifteen quid!"

"Haven't attempted it yet?" I repeated, outraged. "Right, well, look, it's a squirrel." I pointed at another small squirrel shooting past and made a small attempt to chase after it. "Look, I've attempted to chase down a squirrel so I could replace it with Dylan's pants, but oh no, I couldn't catch it," I said dryly. "And I give up, so the bet is off!"

"Oh, Sadie," Danielle sighed, shaking her head. "I never took you for a scaredy-cat!"

I dropped my mouth open in anger at the really childish insult. "A scaredy-cat? First of all, how old are you? And second, I am not scared of that bet."

See, when I said that once you got to know Danielle, she was "nice enough", that meant that sometimes, she could get… outrageously obnoxious. I guess I knew what people meant now by her dark side.

"Of course not," Danielle said, arching an eyebrow.

"Come on, Danielle, stop being so ridiculous," Liz said as she and Emma walked towards us.

"Sadie's not scared of the bet," Emma added, glaring at Danielle.

"See," Danielle said, pointing towards my mates. "Emma and Liz don't have any problem with doing the bet. Why won't you do the bet?"

"Because." I glanced sideways at Liz. "My grandparents don't like me betting."

"Oh, so you're scared of your grandparents now," Danielle sneered.

"I'm not!" I glared.

"No, you're not," Danielle said. "It's obvious you're just making that excuse up to cover up that fact that you have no guts and would faint if you tried doing that bet."

My eyes narrowed into slits. I almost punched out her guts, but restrained myself from doing so. "Honestly, shut up, Danielle. Let it go."

"Come on! It's five quid! What are you, chicken?" Danielle sneered. "Never thought I'd see the day Sadie Kane chickened out on something."

Something inside me snapped. Anger bubbled up in my stomach. Danielle was officially nowhere near "nice enough" anymore. "That's it!" I screamed. "You've got a bet!"

Danielle smirked. "Lovely."

I turned and stormed away from Danielle and her minions, needing to get as far away from them as I could. I heard my mates running after me. I heard protests of "Sadie!" But I only slowed down a bit as I walked on.

A/N: And that's the end of the first chapter. I'll be having around five chapters, I think, so please stay tuned! :D I hope you liked it and please review!

Coming up next chapter (dialogue):

"Will lock-picking even work?"

"Have faith in my breaking-in skills."

"There's got to be some other way."

"Exactly. Stand back. I'm going to throw this at the window on the door. Hopefully, it'll break."