Well, this story is a MAJOR blast from the past. I've reread it as of recent, and let me tell you I cringed up a storm. I haven't even looked at the KB stories I wrote before this which…. For some reason have 30-40 reviews? Thanks, guys! Anyway, this was one of my favorite depictions of Kendall and of Jackie, so I decided to rewrite it and post the results! Hope it's better this time around! ;D

Mother Freaking Scarlett.

She had red hair like smooth velvet, worn in a side braid because hair was less convenient in her face; her emerald eyes were always wide behind her perfectly parted bangs, bright and playful and damningly daring when she was set on getting her way.

Scarlett was everything Kendall wanted to be, and she still found room to have a little more.

Where Kendall still spent her nights balled up at her desk with a pile of rejected essay papers, Scarlett spent her free time scouring Mellowbrook with their resident daredevil, actively getting into trouble and getting out of it with a kick flip and the occasional makeshift parachute. Where Kendall mulled over all of the small ways she might have had an advantage over her rosy-haired competitor, Scarlett never seemed to have any qualms about her fit body or the charming chill of her voice—neither did Kick, for that matter.

It was why Kendall stayed up until the early AM on weekend nights, turning and folding in on herself just fighting the urge to dye her golden hair an off shade of blue—her hair really wasn't the problem. There were other things on her list that ranked high above the dull yellow of her hair.

She was boring.

She was snooty.

She was predictable and awfully good at blaming anybody but herself for her problems.

In truth, she knew in the heaviest, darkest pits of her heart that's truly what her obsession with Scarlett was about. She wasn't really jealous of her flexibility (from years of broken bones and stretched muscles), and she certainly wasn't jealous of her level-headed attitude to everyone and thing; No, in reality, the problem was one Kick Buttowski: Suburban Daredevil.

When they were young, barely crossing into the horrifying realities of puberty and early middle school, Kick never seemed to have much on his mind. His world appeared to consist of three key concepts: Gunther, Family, and Stunts. He was never a boy that chased after girls the way Gordon was, and even on the rare occasion that she found his lips pressed chastely to hers, he was the typical boy about spitting and wiping his mouth with his sleeve until his lips were skinned. Even when they hit 8th grade and the mutual disinterest between their differing genders was seeing a shift, Kick Buttowski stayed true to his skateboard and every rocky hill in Mellowbrook. People were starting to whisper things Kendall turned an ear to: he would forever be a bachelor or perhaps there was an interest in the other team. There were theories in abundance, enough that rumors were the joke export of their city, but still the truth flew somewhere under the radar: what kind of girl was Kick's type?

Nobody seemed the have any answers, and the question haunted Kendall long before she ever met Ronaldo and many years after. She thought about dressing in different styles on occasion, just to see if she'd get a reaction. She dolled up in a librarian's dress around freshman year, slim glasses atop her nose. Kick slid by her that day on the way to third period, papers leaking out of his textbooks because he couldn't be bothered to get a binder like she'd told him a million times before.

He caught her eye one second and was down the hall laughing the next.

She didn't dare make any other drastic changes to her wardrobe after that, for fear of the churning, enflamed feeling in her nauseous stomach and the charred burning on her cheeks. She'd decided to sit there and ponder until she knew for sure—who was Kick Buttowski's Suburban Daydream? She'd been running out of ideas…

… Until Mother Freaking Scarlett.

She strode into town on her board one heated summer afternoon with a house key in one hand and a smile from one ear to the other. Much to the towns—and Kendall's—surprise, Kick was near obnoxiously ecstatic about her new home in the corner of the creek near the edge of Mellowbrook. Where Kendall had failed for years, and Jackie had nearly (almost, but not quite) succeeded, Scarlett had been accepted into Kick's posse with little to no hesitation. It was with great disdain that class president Perkins watched the unstoppable duo become an unbearable trio.

That was what was pissing her off.

Kendall had been eyeing that place for 41% of her life, and she'd worked hard to get there because that's who she was. If she wanted something, some sacrificed: blood, sweat, tears, sore muscles, exhaustion—they usually got her what she wanted at the end of the day. But that was just it; no matter how hard she worked, no matter what she surrendered, there was no way on god's green Earth she could achieve what Scarlett had. Scarlett had Kick.

Try as she might, Kendall could never be her.

She knew because she tried. When she thought she'd said something cool, Kick's inevitable reaction was always some witty backhanded retort she never felt she—but probably—deserved. Towards the middle of their sophomore year, she'd clandestinely purchased her own skateboard; she was too chicken to ride it down and around the skating park. She trained her voice to be more alluring and less piercing, only to find even Jackie thought she'd come down with something.

Since the foxy stunt-double moved to Mellowbrook, there hadn't been a day that Scarlett, Gunther, and Kick weren't speeding down the sidewalks, knocking over trash-cans, and accidently shaving people's dogs.

Kendall didn't know the first thing about skateboarding or riding bikes or skiing or wrestling (well, aside from that one time) or doing stunts. She had accidently pulled off Kick's stunt before, but definitely not on purpose, and he still hadn't said a word. He was shocked, yes, but it was less about her and more about his quickly-dwindling fan base.

No matter what she did, no matter how she dressed or spoke or what hobbies she'd take upon herself, Kick wanted danger. He wanted a girl that would jump off a plane with him or go biking around the top of a volcano. Kendall couldn't do that. She could never do that, and the pain she felt knowing everything she was was nothing Kick wanted—it was the worst she'd ever felt.

"Mother" Kendall pounded her head against the light wooden nightstand she'd plopped herself against "Freaking Scarlett…"

"On about this again, are we?" Jackie stepped into her bedroom with a tray of cookies with two large mugs of what smelled like chamomile tea steeping inside them, closing the door behind her. She eyed the second mug and wondered vaguely if Jackie had been expecting company, but the sight of her favorite vanilla wafers clued her in that Jackie probably heard her less than flattering fall to the floor when she'd climbed in her window. She groaned and slammed her head one final time against the top drawer, and Jackie cocked an eyebrow and sighed. "I told you he doesn't want a girl to worry about him. He wants a girl in the action with him."

"I know, I know!"

"Wait…" Jackie paused, eyes darting from Kendall to the open window above her bed. "The window was locked. How did you-?"

Kendall frowned and held up a small silver key, which Jackie eyed with suspicion and then exasperated acceptance. "Right, okay. Not gonna ask how you got that." Kendall sat up, her legs shifting to the left of her backside because she was a lady and she'd sit like one. Jackie crossed the way to set the tray down on her bed, waving off Kendall's half-hearted warnings about the unstable surface. She took a seat at the edge of the mattress, swinging one leg over the other, letting her Viking helm slipper hang loosely at the end of her foot. "You know, I listened to your advice. You really should listen to your own."

"You and Gunther are a different thing entirely."

Jackie paused again, and Kendall knew that was a sign she was falling into a blind lovesick daze, if only momentarily. Although her cheeks grew the lightest shade of pink and her lips curled into the smallest smile if only for a second, Jackie shook her head vigorously and took an overly aggressive bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies from the tray. "We are not a thing at all." Liar. "I got over my obsession with Kick, and if he wants me he can, too."

Kendall glanced away and shrugged, playing with the rim of her button-up business shirt. It was wrinkled and stained with the dirt of the floor, and she made a mental note to guilt Jackie into cleaning her room beyond the usual hide-dirty-clothes-in-the-closet routine. Jackie readjusted her smaller glasses and set her half-eaten cookie down. "But I don't think you can."

"I'm not obsessed!"

"Fine, okay, fair enough, but you will be if you don't nip this in the bud while you still have the chance!"

Jackie gestured for Kendall to move with a flick of her hand, and Kendall took the hint to scooch further away from the bed. Jackie slid over the side to join her on the floor, hissing when the tray almost tilted the mugs over. Kendall eyed her up and down and she wasn't sure if it was out of disdain for the mismatched pajamas she knew her best friend had languidly slipped on, or nervousness about what she might say next. "Look, Kendall. You feel panicked when he isn't around, you always want to see him, it feels like your heart just won't rest until you do, and he's always on your mind. I've heard you mention him when a song reminds you of him and order certain foods because you heard he liked him—that's love, girl. I know it well."

She couldn't help it; a small smile inched across her face. "That's really how you feel about Gunther?"

Jackie coughed and hurriedly grabbed one of the mugs from the tray, her eyes seemingly straining to look at some non-existent far-away object out the window even as the hot tea fogged up her lenses. "Might be how he feels 'bout Kick, too…"

"Well, that's why you're making him choose, right?"

Jackie swallowed the huge sip she took with an audible gulp, wincing at her burnt tongue. Kendall might have laughed had the conversation not been in a more intense area. "I'm not making him choose between myself and Kick." She shook her head and opened her mouth, fanning what appeared to be her very red mouth. "He can be best friends and hang out with Kick all he wants. After all, Kick is, for lack of a better term, awesome! He just can't keep ditching me for Kick—especially when we're in the middle of a date…" the last part was quiet, but more than clear enough for Kendall's trained opera ears to hear it "… more specifically our anniversary."

Kendall pressed her head to Jackie's shoulder and reached around to give her cheek a comforting pat. When Jackie loved, it was fiercely and with no-holds-barred, loyally and trustfully with anything and everything she had; it was only fair that she expected the same. Gunther usually fit the bill, but when push came to shove, Kick just seemed to be higher on his priority list. While Kendall had never experienced that, she understood what Jackie was feeling very well. "So how did I tell you to handle him, again?"

She felt Jackie straighten near instantly, and she took that as her cue to move so they could be face-to-face. "Oh my god, okay. So it went something like this:" Jackie mustered up a fake cough, making it loud and muffled against her fist for a special effect. She raised a single finger in the air, wiggling it around as she spoke. "Confront him, and if he has no answer for you, you walk." Her fake accent was obnoxiously pretentious, and Kendall detested that she thought she sounded that way, but the message made an impact before the poor imitation ever did.

Kendall cringed, just as she remembered Jackie had when she'd been on the receiving end. "That sounds a lot harsher coming from somebody else."

"Yeah, but it worked! I'm a free bird, now!" Jackie extended her arms and flapped them excitedly, reaching the farthest they could as she stomped her feet around her carpeted floor. Kendall nearly hushed her when she remembered they were well into winter break; they wouldn't really be disturbing anybody in Jackie's night-owl home until much later in the night. "I can talk to boys and if he has something to say about it, then he can do something! It's the best kind of revenge-but-not-exactly-revenge there is!"

Jackie hadn't flirted with a single soul aside from Gunther and they both knew it; she just liked the idea of making him jealous.

Kendall brushed a strand of her behind her ear, blowing her bangs away from her eyes as much as she could when she hadn't done anything to them that day. "That's great, Jackie. What am I supposed to ask him, exactly?"

Jackie shrugged. "Ask him who he likes."

Kendall tensed, shoulders freezing when she really just wanted to slump over in defeat. "Jackie, I can't do that."

"What? Why not?"

"That's going to sound so weird to him! There's no way he's going to take me seriously!"

"Then" Jackie kneaded circles in the skin under her eyes "start crying when he doesn't answer you properly."

"But then he'll know I like him!"

"Then you're sure to get a real answer!"

Kendall tugged at her hair, tossing her head back against the nightstand with far more force than she'd intended, enough that she was sure she'd feel it in the morning. Along with the effects of everything else I'll be doing tonight… Squeezing her eyes shut, she expelled all of her irritation in the form of one loud, extensive groan. "Oh my god, fine! But how do I-?"

"How do you what?"

Kendall blinked at Jackie, eyes narrowed, squinting because the true problem was obvious. It took around twenty seconds of nothing but uninterrupted silence and Kendall's increasingly disastrous aura, but Jackie eventually gasped and nodded in understanding.

They said in unison: "Mother Freaking Scarlett."

"Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, Buttowski!"

Even from the opposing wall of the home neighboring the Buttowski's, Kendall could see that familiar smirk on Kick's chiseled face—but more than that, she could see the heat in his eyes as Scarlett stepped by him, tossing her skateboard to the ground. Her bright red hair was, for some reason (a more wicked part of Kendall was already concocting several convoluted theories) out of its normal braid, loose and falling over her shoulders like the silk it probably was. Her green eyes met Kick's with equally as much fire, and it was becoming abundantly clear, even to Kendall's logical mind, that the two were flirting.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kendall huffed.

"This is the only time ever that Kick is alone. We have to do it now!" Jackie whispered back, though it sounded more like a tempered hiss. Jackie sat crouched below her, pawing at the grass because she was clearly just as nervous as Kendall was. After all, Kendall reminded herself, where Kick was, Gunther wasn't usually far behind. If his work schedule, which Jackie had memorized down to the most minute detail—the second—was still in line, Gunther wouldn't be getting off work for another solid forty minutes. "But it's like, 9:00, and he's a relatively healthy guy—he's probably going to sleep-!" Kendall yelped as a hand reached up and tugged at the collar of her shirt. Jackie pulled her down so that their foreheads were pressed together, one jabbing finger at her chest.

"Don't you dare chicken out on me now, Kendall Perkins! We walked for ten minutes and that's a lot for me and you are not putting all of that extra exercise to waste!" Kendall squinted and made a motion to get up, only to be pulled back down by the, not-so-surprisingly, strong Jackie. "Ohhhhh no, no, no, no. You're marching right up to that door and knocking."

Kendall glanced from Jackie to the front door of Kick's home, only to find Scarlett still standing on the front stoop of his porch. She hadn't moved one inch, except (if Kendall squinted) to get a step closer to him. It might not have been so bad, it might not have hurt so much, if she had seen him move away. "I won't have to knock if he just keeps staring after her like that."

Jackie glanced up just as Scarlett hopped onto her skateboard, giving Kick one last wink before taking off down the cul-de-sac sidewalks. She must have seen it too, the brief moment in time where Kick was watching her ride away. His eyes were narrowed, but they read of something entirely different from the usual scowl he wore. There was warmth there, the hint of a forlornness Kendall knew all too well. She watched his smirk fall into a smile—a heart wrenchingly warm, honest smile.

It was suddenly all so stupid. Kendall looked down at herself—down at Jackie's crouched form. What was she doing?

It was obvious, and it always had been; she knew who Kick liked. She denied it and pushed on against all hope that maybe, just maybe, she was seeing what wasn't there, but the truth was hitting her hard and it might have been because she was horrified she was about to hear him say it himself. The truth was that she wasn't ready to face him. The truth was that she didn't want to be forced into giving Kick Buttowski up just yet.

Kendall let out a yelp as she was shoved suddenly out of their hiding place, alerting the taller, though just as handsome (You stop that, Kendall, she hissed to herself), daredevil to her presence. "Kendall? What are you doing here?" He frowned and pointed towards the ground. "And what are you doing in my neighbor's front lawn?"

She glanced from where she knew Jackie still sat to where Kick stood, staring her down. Kendall gulped and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt, nails digging into the fabric so they wouldn't start shaking. "Just figured I'd take a short-cut home from the library… got lost. But now that I'm here I know my way home."

"You… mean the library down the street?" He gestured behind her to the small library around the corner—a small establishment that often doubled as a daycare. She glanced from the library, back to him, and swallowed hard.

"Uh, no actually, the one around twenty minutes away-!"

He glared at her questioningly, a raised eyebrow and narrowed eye. "What shortcut could you have possibly taken?"

"A confusing one."

Kick crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto one of his (now much, much, longer) legs. He towered over Kendall by a good… two… three inches? Either way, the differences made him all the more menacing. She took in a deep breath and looked away from him, finding herself preoccupied with the moon. It was about 9:15 at night and there she was, trying to muster up the courage to ask Kick a question she already knew the answer to.

"Ow!" She leaped and clutched the back of her head, looking behind her to see Jackie tossing a rock in one hand and glaring at her.

"What was that?"

Kendall froze and mustered up her most convincing smile. "Oh, nothing- nothing. Eep!" Another rock flew by her head, so close she was surprised Kick still hadn't seen it go flying. In no time flat Buttowski had crossed the way to her, arms crossed as he leaned forward and eyed her with what could have only been suspicion. Abort! Abort!

"It didn't look or SOUND like nothing."

"How are we to know what nothing sounds like, huh?" Weak excuse, Kendall!

Kick pulled away from her, and she silently thanked whatever deity had been responsible for such a miracle. His face had been uncomfortably close to her own, and there was no way of knowing how much longer she could have kept any surmountable form of eye contact.

He seemed to have grown bored of her, raised eyebrow falling flat. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he twisted around. "Right, well, I'm going to go inside now."

She grabbed the sleeve on his wrist quicker than he had turned, yanking on the fabric gently as to not tear it—not that he would have cared if she did (that jumpsuit had been abused for years). "Kick, I, um, have a question."

Now she really had him confused; he looked at her again, lips pursed and eyes narrowed as dangerously and sharply as one of his turns. All she could give him in return was a largely bogus "stern" look. She knew how ridiculous it sounded. Kendall Perkins, resident smart aleck, was asking resident fearless citizen—and straight D-student—Kick Buttowski a question. Well, it didn't count, she mused. She already knew the answer so there was no use in beating herself up over asking him.

Yep. This was Jackie's fault.

"How's your break been?"

All Jackie's fault.

WHAM!

Kendall just barely dodged another rock being thrown, this time at her rear end. She glanced in her best friend's direction to see that Jackie had thrown that one on accident; she was more focused on something behind her. Kendall was about to turn and ask when she was reminded that Kick was still there by the yanking of his sleeve. "Awesome, as usual. Is that all you wanted to ask, or…?" Kendall inhaled and turned back to him, reaching up to twirl on strand of hair around her finger. Her gaze fell to the grass beneath them, one of her feet digging a hole in the ground. The beginning of my own grave… She thought tartly.

"Kick? Who do you like?"

"What?!"

He stepped back, eyes wide, pupils the size of two shrunken raisins, and arms held almost defensively in front of his body. Like I could hurt him in any way his stunts haven't… Kendall took another deep breath and crossed her arms, daring to bring her fervent gaze to meet his disturbed one. "You heard me, Clarence." She quickly degraded herself for calling him Kick before—there was no room for familiarity here, not when she knew what he was going to say. Not when she knew what came next was going to hurt… "Who do you like? You've got a lot of fan-girls. Who would you be the most interested in dating?"

Kick's face grew blank, as mind numbing to read as a fresh sheet of paper. He didn't move, though, body seemingly solid in one spot. She related to that; her body was quickly freezing over, too, albeit for abundantly different reasons.

The situation was beginning to skyrocket in the awkwardness department. She was looking everywhere but his face, her grip on her hair not so tender anymore—it felt like she was going to pull her own hair out. They stood there for a good minute, just waiting for Kick to grasp the situation at hand.

"Oh, Clarence! Just answer the question!"

"Uhhhh…" When he finally spoke, his words were laced with the kind of caution one would use around their own senile grandmother—condescending and suspicious. His head tilted to the side. "Why?"

"I just want to know, geez!"

"But why do you wanna know? That's not exactly something people share with acquaintances."

"B- Because! Because, because…!" She was beginning to stammer. Her eyes searched everywhere, searching the cloudy night-sky for an excuse. "Because it's for a project I'm doing!"

Kick's eyes narrowed. "A project?"

"Yep! I'm trying to see if 'opposites attract' pertains to people, too. I'm asking everybody!" Okay, Kendall—you still have time to purchase a one-way ticket to a cruise out of Mellowbrook. You have a uncle that can get you in for a discount and you have just enough saved up for ¾ of a ticket's price. If you hurry, you can get there before the final boat leaves for the night.

"Well you're not getting an answer outta me!" He waved her off and turned back around, looking to retreat into the confines of his home. She didn't know why, but she stopped him.

"Look, it's anonymous!" Once you arrive at the next state over, you can get a job working for minimal wage at a small convenience store. It won't be enough for a home, but it'll be enough for some food. You can find shelter at your nearest park—you'll get a roof over your head and you can string some leaves together as a blanket.

"Don't care." Kick didn't even pause, and every step he took towards his door felt like another wave of relief but another storm of anxiety.

"Only I'll know!" You can skip a meal somewhere in the first few days—call Jackie up on a pay phone and let her know you're all right. She might still be mad at you for booking it, but hopefully her worry will have dissipated most of that. She might even send you some vanilla wafers while you're away! As for your parents, your uncle can leave them a message, right? It'll only be temporary! Maybe a few months? A Year? If you haul your butt right now you can get back home, empty your savings jar, and get to the docks with ten minutes left to spare.

"Exactly."

WHAM!

Another rock flew by Kendall's head. What in the world is going on over there? What did she do—run into a feral cat? "Kick, just do me a favor and answer the stupid question!"

"Why do you even want to know?!"

Kendall screamed and threw her arms in the air, more than ready to just wave her white flag and be done with the whole situation. "Ugh, never mind! You're… you're… impossible, Clarence!"

He should have been insulted, should have argued right back and told her in so many words that she was way more difficult than he was, but instead he only turned his head over his shoulder and gave her one of his moldering grins. "I do the impossible, too."

Can't argue with that, I guess. Kendall inhaled for ten seconds, and then let it all out for another round. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she did her best to gather what little strength she still had tucked into the dark recesses of her mind. "Just tell me whether or not you like Scarlett!"

Kick's face contorted in confusion again, one eye narrowed while the other was open wide. "Scarlett?"

"Yes!" Kendall kicked one of the rocks Jackie threw, specifically the one that hit her head, into the street. "Clarence, I want to know if you are interested in Scarlett!"

Kick paused, glanced from her to the street, and looked back to her again, gaze scrutinizing. Kendall felt her stomach doing Olympic-level backflips, heart pounding like a gong against her rib cage. Then he sighed, and all of that went plummeting off of cliffs so high that she felt utterly—exhausted, defeated, destroyed—when those emotions hit rock bottom. "I…?"

"Don't! Don't even bother answering." She shrugged and let the hair that'd come tangled around her finger fall flat against her shoulders. Her eyes focused on the streetlights to the sides of them, one set of fingers messing with the rim of her skirt. "I already know the answer!" Kendall sighed. "It was Jackie. Jackie made me come over here."

"Apparently."

A deep, virile voice bounded from beyond the wall Jackie had set up shop, startling both Kendall and, presumably, Kick. The voice was aged, but it was a voice Kendall knew as well as she knew Kick's. Gunther emerged from the shadows of the neighboring home with an enraged Jackie thrown over his shoulder, her fists coming up and down upon his back as she hurled obscenities in his direction. "PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN! PUT! ME! DOWN!" Kendall would have told her to wash her mouth out with a fresh bar of soap had the ramifications of what was happening not been punching her directly in the gut.

Gunther seemed unfazed by Jackie's fruitless attempts at an escape, only acknowledging her wriggling form to comfortingly pat the small of her back. "Scarlett caught me at work and told me you wanted to go over some plans for tomorrow's stunt and I found her hiding out in your next door neighbor's yard throwing rocks at Kendall." It was just then that they noticed he was still in his uniform, apron still tied tightly around his now obscenely huge muscles. His hair was tied into a small ponytail behind his head, leaving only his sideburns to frame his carved face. Jackie raised her voice, swinging her limbs as wildly as possible in every direction, but Gunther's hold didn't lessen in the slightest.

"Thanks for that, by the way, Jackie." Kendall hissed and rubbed the back of her head where the stone had hit. Jackie flipped her off, probably because she wasn't physically able to turn around.

"So that was the 'nothing'." Kick recollected, crossing his arms and looking to Kendall for silent confirmation.

She shrugged one shoulder.

Gunther approached Kick with no sign that he was even carrying another human being, leaning down and whispering something inaudible to Kick. Kendall felt curiosity bubble in his chest, but she wasn't about to go snooping any more than she already had that night—it'd just end in empty pits and, apparently, screaming.

"Well my parents are out tonight and Brad's got a date, so it's just me and Brianna. Why don't you guys come inside and we'll talk about what's really going on here?" There was a false pleasantness to his tone, a forced bravado and tenderness that Kendall couldn't help but loathe the sound of. Jackie said nothing as the four of them entered the front door of the Buttowski home.

As they crossed the threshold, all Kendall and Jackie could think was: "Mother Freaking Scarlett!"

Not sure if I'll rewrite the second half. If it's wanted, I will! Constructive criticism is not only accepted, but sought after and appreciated. Thanks!