Disclaimer: I don't own Rocket Power.

Note: This story doesn't have chapters because I can't figure out how to separate it. Plus, I don't have enough imagination for so many chapter names. If you find it difficult to read, review and ask me to chapterise it and I'll try my best.

There She Goes
a fic by Monster Number Five

The change begun the year Reggie turned sixteen. It happened quite subtly: Reggie would skip skating for a day per week to hang with Trish and Sherry at the mall, or else lounge with the girls in the Shack despite the desperate ascent of swells. The gang didn't find it strange initially; they were still very much boys, too caught up in sports to give a damn about girls.

Otto finally figured his sister was fast turning into a woman one night at dinner. Raymundo had innocently brought up the topic of a night-skating competition, it was at MadTown, 20th, next week, should I put both you kids down?

'Did ya even have to ask?' Otto rolled his eyes, 'I've known about that competition for a week! I'm totally gonna win it, as usual.' He casually glanced at his sister, waiting for a customary 'Yeah, right! I'll bust you, just you see!', but refuting him appeared the least of her worries.

'I don't know, dad.' Reggie said, biting her lip.

'Huh?' Otto was completely bewildered and it appeared Raymundo was, too.

'The school prom's on the 20th as well,' Reggie continued, avoiding her brother's livid eyes. 'I'd like to go for it.'

'What?' Otto exclaimed, 'You'd miss a skating competition for a lousy prom! I don't believe it! You've never went for a prom!' He felt a knot in his throat.

'Which is why it's about time I made my debut,' Reggie snapped, throwing her fork into the innocent piece of pie she had been toying with.

'Wow, Reg, I don't know what to make of this,' Raymundo said, suddenly aware that he was sitting opposite two teenagers.

'Dad, I'm sixteen!' Reggie pleaded, as if sixteen was the answer to all life's strangest questions, 'How could you back Otto?'

'No, no, I'm definitely not backing Otto!' Raymundo replied, trying to remember the main points of Parenting 101, 'Otto, what your sister wants to do is her business, not yours. Reggie, I can't deny your decision bewilders me, but I'll respect it.' He gulped, praying for resolution.

'Reggie.' Otto frowned, 'You can't go to the prom.' His shock had turned to disappointment.

'Oh, yes I can, you heard Raymundo,' Reggie said, staring point blank at her brother, 'And, really, Otto, why do you care?' She pushed the plate aside and walked hastily to her room, leaving her inadequate family behind.

Raymundo, feeling he had truly failed as a parent, turned to Otto, 'Hmm, Otto, why don't you escort your sister to the prom?' He tried a smile.

Reggie sat in her room, thinking. The truth was, a prom scared the hell out of her so much more than a difficult course or a thirty-foot swell. A prom was something adult, she'd have to wear a dress, put on rouge, wait for some guy to ask her to dance. Fuck it, she'd never danced in her whole fucking life.

Pulling the blanket over her head, she begun to cry. It was all Otto's fault. She'd said she'd go to spite him: this she knew. She'd hated the way he'd said 'you can't go to the prom', like he was older than she was and totally in charge. He was fifteen fucking years old, what would he know about proms and love? He'd never realise the shortness of life, how things would change and pass, how they'd grow old and get wrinkled cheeks.

She did. As much as she wanted to enter the skate competition (and win, because she was so bloody good), she knew had to go to the prom. It was her way of crossing over from her childhood to enter the brave new world. It was nasty, but it had to be done.

Reggie got out of bed and stared into her mirror. She saw a young, purple-haired virgin with too many spots on her left cheek, slender to the point of being gangly and eyes that were too dark to be beautiful. She wondered what Otto saw. It gave her the strange feeling that she'd somehow broken her brother's heart.

Otto did something no fifteen year old boy must ever do: he called his best friend to talk. This was none other than Twister Rodriguez, a boy relatively unscarred by adolescence and still the same genuine, fresh-faced kid he'd been at eleven.

'Uhm, Hi Twist,' Otto said, somewhat awkwardly.

'You dork, it's Lars. I don't believe you're calling. Heh, I bet you two ARE gay.' Lars chuckled.

'Look Lars, I need to talk to Twister urgently, PLEASE PASS THE PHONE,' Otto said, blushing against his own will. Well, at least it was dark. He heard 'Twister, it's your boyfriend' in the background and then hurried footsteps.

'Otto? Why are you calling?' Twister said in a hushed voice. Obviously, Lars was eavesdropping. 'Make it quick or I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Look, bro, things are seriously messed up here,' Otto said, refusing to sit down. Sitting down while talking on the phone was too gay. 'Reg is skipping the night skate comp for some stupid prom! I can't get behind that.'

'She's doing WHAT? You're not serious!'

'Why, Twist, why? She's always been a stubborn tomboy… but now, I don't know man. She's freaking me out: she's got all these fashion mags about the place!'

'I know,' Twister glanced at a copy of Reggie's zine lying on the telephone table, 'Her zine's full of clothes and stuff.'

'That's exactly what I mean! She's turning into a…some sort of…'

'Girl?' Twister was amazed at his own depth of perception, "Yeah, dude, she's turning into a girl.' His heart skipped a beat.

They were both quiet for a while until Twister spoke up, riding on his sudden wave of intellect, 'Man, I think your problem is, you've kept looking at Reg as an older bro 'stead of a sis. Plus, she's been with our gang so long, listening to you, it's kind of like she was a younger bro. Er, fuck, I don't understand what I'm saying.'

'I think you got it right, Twist.' Otto said, blinking in the darkness. He heard 'Ahaha, oh man, Otto has gender issues! I knew he was a homo!' in the phone background and said a hurried goodbye. Putting the phone back on its cradle, Otto sighed and decided to call it a night.

Reggie, Trish and Sherry were at the Shack on Tuesday, sipping ice cream soda, watermelon juice and a chocolate milkshake respectively, their lips pink with gloss, when Reggie decided to bring up the topic of the prom.

'My bro's totally against it,' Reggie said, rolling her eyes, 'I mean, why's it his problem?'

'Oh my god, mine too!' Sherry exclaimed, 'He was trying to bar me from going or something, said I always went with him to skate comps and the 20th would be no different. What a weirdo!'

'Hey Sherry, at least Mike's older than you are! Otto is a year younger than Reg…' Trish quipped, raising a well-manicured finger to order another juice.

'You're lucky you don't have a bro, Trish. Man, I don't get guys at all,' Reggie said, suddenly surprised she'd mentioned her brother in such a disparate, unconcerned manner.

'Hmm, speak of the devil,' Trish raised an eyebrow to indicate that Otto, Twister and Sam had strolled into the Shack. Sam and Twister stared at the girls, flabbergasted and curious, but Otto feigned ignorance and proceeded to order the burgers.

'Reg, there's a magnificent swell out there,' Sam said, looking at Trish, 'What are you doing in here?'

'Try relaxing,' Reggie said, in a voice she hoped was not too harsh. She'd always had a soft spot for Sam. 'Hi Twister!'

'Interesting relaxing,' Twister said, who could not avoid noticing that all three girls were in bikinis, 'You sure you don't want to surf with us?'

'Maybe later,' Reggie replied, certain she wouldn't, 'Have fun, anyway.'

'Dude, don't encourage her,' Otto replied glumly, returning with the burgers. He stole a glance at his sister and became furious again. What was she doing sitting around in that skimpy thing anyway? He had a great urge to throw a large bathrobe over her. And how had they become so different? He didn't think, looking at her giggling with Trish and Sherry, that they could ever talk as they used to again. Damnit, why hadn't he seen it all along?

'Uhm, Otto, why are you muttering under your breath?' Sam asked, digging into the fries. 'Are you okay?'

'Oh sure I'm okay. My sister's just ditching us for a prom, that's all. I am totally okay,' Otto attacked his burger with a knife.

'Oh come on, we've not been hanging out as a gang for a while. We're all guilty. I've been doing tour-guiding in Spanish, Sam's been helping the mayor…' Twister smiled, 'It's not as if Reg is betraying us.'

'Well said, Twist.' Sam nodded, looking at the Trish, 'Reg seems to be enjoying herself too. We're her friends man, we should let her do what she wants to.'

'Yeah,' Twister said, stealing a look at the girls himself, 'Man, I never realised…'

'DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY SISTER'S BREASTS!' Otto screamed, suddenly erupting to everyone's offence. The Shack went quiet and everyone turned to stare at Otto.

Reggie pushed up her sunglasses, 'OTTO!'

'No, don't get up, you and your breasts just keep relaxing man!' Otto cried, throwing his arms into the air and stomping angrily away.

'Excuse me, Otto, I demand you come back here and apologise! Otto!' Reggie felt her face turn extremely red. Everyone in the shack had now turned to her two problematic assets, including Raymundo, who was feeling like an even worse parent.

'Oh my god, I don't believe the jerk said that to you Reg!' Sherry complained, her jaw hanging loose.

'Yeah, Reg, let's get out of here,' Trish said, suddenly aware of her own two assets, 'Let's go to my place.'

Reg had already stood up, replacing her sunglasses to avoid looking at everyone. The wolf whistling had begun and the girls left hastily, not turning back.

Twister, feeling he was the whole problem, called after Reg, 'Hey, for the record, I wasn't thinking about your breasts!' The Shack exploded in laughter.

'Uhm, dude, now we have to get out,' Sam said, slapping his head. ' You dork! Man, and I thought you had family problems, Twist.'

Otto knew he'd blown it. He had wanted to heal the rift between he and Reggie, wanted to make her see the err of her ways, but now the rift was wider than ever. He'd publicly offended his sister as well as his best friends, and, in a way, himself. The thing was, he'd known what Twister was about to say because he'd noticed it himself, and that made him even angrier. To him, Reggie's breasts were more proof that she was switching genders.

Maybe he needed some breasts. Then, Reggie and everyone would acknowledge how disgusting they were. No, no, that was bad thinking.

Otto walked along the coast and saw pamphlets for the prom. What did Reggie see in this event anyway? Just a bunch of stupid kids dressing up and dancing. What did the whole thing mean to her? Otto took a pamphlet, stuffed it into his pocket, cursed some shoobies and walked home.

Sam and Twister decided to crash at Twister's place. They no longer had any mood to surf, and decided to spend the afternoon listening to rock and talking. It was strange; Twister wasn't used to having Sam over alone.

'So, Twist, what do you think of this mess?'

'Well, it's my fault, isn't it?'

'No, it isn't! It's between Otto and Reggie, haven't you been paying attention? I can't help feeling our whole gang's falling apart.' Sam whimpered.

'I know. I hope they make up soon. I feel totally weird, they've never that bad before.' Both boys exchanged a worried look.

'You know, I think something's happening to our gang. It's true, Reggie doesn't hang with us the way she used to. We don't hang the way we used to,' Sam pondered, looking pensieve, 'You don't think we're falling apart do you, us, the Rocket gang?'

Twister gulped, 'I don't know…'

'Twister, you're supposed to say No!'

'Oh.'

'Do you think Otto's changed?'

'No way,' Twister said, firmly this time.

'Yeah, I think Otto's probably changed the least.' Sam looked at a picture of the gang on Twister's bedside table, 'You think Reggie's changed?'

Twister kept silent. He thought about Reggie. Reggie, not Otto, was the first friend he'd made at OS. He had the utmost respect for her, but couldn't say for certain whether he'd thought she was different. Externally, certainly, but internally, he still thought she was still the same tough, cool chick. Wasn't she? She didn't have issues taunting him in that sharp, hilarious way of hers, but she didn't have issues sitting around in a two-piece sipping soda either. She'd never have done that a year ago.

Reggie's changed but she's still cool, Twister told himself.

Sam hadn't waited for Twister to answer. He continued with his train of thought. 'And then there's the prom issue.' He said, I'm thinking of going myself.' Sam immediately looked out of the window. Seeing the Rockets' house, he quickly turned to back to Twister.

'What?! How could you say that?'

'Don't deny you're not curious, Twist.'

'I won't, but Otto's against the prom, and we're his bros, so we've got to be against the prom too!'

'How awesome, a gay brotherhood!' Lars had apparated at the door and was chuckling incorrigibly. 'Anyway, bro, skate comps are for weenies. I mean, what's the point of competing when you know you're the best.' He shrugged, 'But a prom? A prom's for real dudes. Not that you gays would know.'

'That is it!' Sam said, rising to the bait, 'Damnit! I'm going to that prom!'

'Don't listen to him, Sam, we've gotta stick by Otto!' Twister said, frantically.

'Yeah, Sam, you blink and Twister gets Otto.' Lars said, having far too much fun. (No one knows if he was feeling gay himself.) Sam got up to punch him but was restrained, rather forcefully, by Twister, 'Sam, he's not worth it!'

Lars had begun to climb up the stairs to his room, laughing like an idiot.

Sam collapsed on the floor, 'Hell, is Lars really going to that prom?'

'I think so,' Twister sighed.

'Then I'm going.' Sam said, full of testosterone. He looked at Twister, 'Come on, we can't let him show us down on that stage as well.'

Twister shrugged. He felt truly insane.

'Girls, I don't think I'm going for the prom after all,' Reggie said. All three girls had retired from the harsh public scene, washed and put on fresh tubes and pants. They were sitting around in a circle, pouring over the latest Zine.

'Wow, Reggie, your tips are the best!' Sherry remarked, 'I am definitely going to mix my black tube with that red Chinese skirt with a slit.'

'Yeah, and I think I'll probably use purple rouge after all.' Trish said thoughtfully, 'It'll match my skin. You know, Reg, you are good for someone who doesn't really care'

'Hello, girls, did anyone hear me? I said I don't feel like going anymore!' Reggie snapped. Both of them looked at her quizzically.

'Why?' Trish asked.

'Look, Reg, if you're worrying about getting a date, there are ways to cure that,' Sherry said, observing the heart Reggie had sewn onto her sleeve. 'I mean, assuming you'd take anyone who looks okay.'

Reggie could trust Sherry to be dead sharp. She sat down, 'That's not just it. What about Otto?'

'Well, what about the jerk?' Sherry asked, cocking a brow.

Reggie felt uncomfortable at Otto being called a jerk but swallowed and continued, 'He really wants me to accompany him to the comp. For all his nerve, he is still my bro, you know.'

'Look, are you in love with your brother?' Trish frowned, 'It sounds a lot like that.'

'Of course not!' Reggie replied, 'Well, it's not just Otto… it's the gang as well.' The phone rang suddenly, interrupting her, and Trish picked it up. Her brow furrowed momentarily and then her round lips broke out in a little smile. Reggie and Sherry stared at her, but she shook her head unfathomably. A few 'yes's later, she put down the phone.

'Did you say the gang's going to the comp and you're worried about betraying them?' Trish asked, slyly. 'Well,' she continued, 'That's not true. OS High's top student just asked me to the prom.'

'Oh my god!' Sherry squealed.

'You mean Sam Dullard?!' Reggie's eyes widened, 'No way!' She felt a slight release, 'If he's going, that means…'

'That means you won't be betraying the gang cause the gang's not going anyway,' Trish said, smiling radiantly. She immediately begun checking her split ends. 'See, sista, good things happen to those who wait.'

'You are so lucky, Trish!' Sherry exclaimed again, hugging her friend.

That is totally weird, Reggie thought to herself, Sam being hot property. She put herself in Trish's shoes and thought of Sam objectively. It was true Sam had lost a tremendous amount of weight skating and surfing since twelve and had even replaced his tan lines with a kind of boyish sepia. Wow, she supposed Sam was quite handsome. Goodness, she had never thought of Sam that way before.

'Yeah, congrats Trish,' Reggie smiled. 'Sam is a really nice guy.'

'Hmm, maybe Otto will ask me, and Twister will ask you, Reg, that'd be really sweet,' Sherry said dreamily, completely forgetting how vehemently she had attacked Otto a few minutes ago.

'Oh no way. Otto will never go to a prom. And Twist… Twist is a friend,' Reggie said, as if the friend was another possible answer to life's MCQs.

She looked out the window. The sun shining through the clouds over her town, bathing the place golden, just like normal, but, somehow, everything had changed. We no longer laugh about our skate scabs, Reggie thought, looking at Trish and Sherry. She thought of her own gang. Gosh, we no longer even skate.

'Otto,' Twister coughed, 'Sam and I have something important to tell you.' They were standing at Otto's front door. The boy hadn't changed since the morning and looked like he'd been sleeping.

'Well?' Otto snapped.

'Firstly, we'd like to apologise for the fiasco at the Shack. It was totally our fault, man.'

'Okay?' Otto blinked twice to keep from yawning, 'That can't be it.'

'Uhm, yeah, that wasn't…anyway, what we really wanted to tell you as that, uhm, ,' Twister lowered his voice to a whisper, 'We're going to the prom.'

'Come again?' Otto asked.

Sam stepped in, 'Otto, we're going to the prom. I already asked Trish and she said yes. I've had a crush on her since I was thirteen.' Somehow, this completely exonerated him.

'WHAT?!' Otto's eyes flew open, 'HOW COULD THE BOTH OF YOU DO THIS TO ME?!'

'Well, Lars said skate comps were for weenies, that prom's for the real dudes…' Twister said, weakly.

'YOU'D RATHER LISTEN TO LARS THAN ME!??'

'Please don't shout,' Sam pleaded. 'I do agree that perhaps it is time we, you know, dated girls.'

'I WILL NEVER DATE A GIRL!' Otto slammed the door furiously and the two boys, feeling very much like furtive romeos, heard his angry footsteps clomp up the stairs.

'I think we betrayed him,' Twister said softly.

'No we didn't. We can't keep listening to Otto, Twister. I mean, we're men too, aren't we?' Sam said, feeling like some Czech romantic.

'I don't know about you, Sam, but I'm Otto's friend.' Twister looked up into Otto's room. The lights were off, but he knew Otto was staring down at them. At him, Twister, walking away from two friendships. Inwardly, he realised Sam was right. They couldn't follow a gang their whole lives. Reggie had already begun testing the water. Now, Sam wanted to. What was it to be a Latin boy growing up in California anyway?

Otto has no one if I go to that prom, Twister thought. He looked down the street and realised Reggie, still in army pants, was walking to her house. She looked different to him. She was rounder, kinder, and more feminine now. (This was probably a side effect of having thought of her breasts in broad daylight.) Instinctively, he ducked behind a bush.

Reggie spotted Sam.

'Hey Sammy!" She said, sweetly.

'Hey Regina, looking good' Sam said. Reggie hadn't flinched at her first name, much to Twister's surprise. (He still flinched at Maurice.)

'You too, Sam, heard you asked Trish. Way to go!' Reggie ruffled Sam's hair and this made him blush.

'It took a lot of courage.' Sam boasted.

'I bet,' Reggie laughed, 'Well see ya, I suppose you came to see my wet blanket of a brother?'

'Seen.' Sam nodded. Twister was surprised Sam hadn't flinched at 'wet blanket'; he had.

The two teenagers said good night then went their separate ways; Reggie back towards her house and Sam back across the street to his own. Twister blinked, in half-shock, half-amusement: the way Sam and Reggie talked, it was like they were adults. Where the fuck did that leave him?

Just as she was about to step into her house, Reggie spotted him, 'Twister? Is that you behind that bush?'

Oh shit, Twister thought. 'Who's that? I'm just…uhm…trying to find something here.' He called.

'It's Reggie, need any help?' Reggie, looking for any excuse not to step in her own Otto-infested house, walked over to the incriminating bush. She found Twister bending over a small snail.

'Uhm, Twister, you were looking for a snail?' She asked quizically, grinning a little. It was just like Twister to do something totally inane like that. She found it endearing.

Twister quickly scooped it up, rather sickened by the slimy animal, 'Yup, been looking for one…uhm…all day. Project…you know, science, uhm, for school.' He gave her a smile and decided not to shove it in her face.

'Twister,' Reggie sighed, rolling her eyes, 'School is out, Twist!Seriously, why were you in the bush?'

Looking at you, Twister thought. 'No, really, it's good to be prepared for anything,' Twister said, as Reggie burst into laughter, 'Hey, you wanna surf, tide's still in and it isn't dark yet.' The both of them looked back at the house and could hear Otto kicking tables and cupboards.

'Yeah, I think I'll take your offer, Twist.'

The Rodriguez household was seething with hormones that night. Twister, ginger-haired and confused on the second floor bedroom was dealing with mixed feelings. There were two issues. Firstly, Reggie. The surf had failed. He'd told her she was the most beautiful girl he knew but he had completely foiled the line by smiling like a dorkface, after which she actually laughed it off and pecked him on the cheek. It was obvious they could be friends only. Yeah, what was he thinking? He blamed her breasts; those things were messing with his mind.

The second thing was Otto. On one hand, he felt a desperate, almost homosexual loyalty to Otto which was holding him back, keeping him under the label of 'Number One Bro'. He had been and was still extremely proud of his friendship with Otto. On the other hand, Sam was right. He was a man. His voice had cracked two years back. The occasional girl hit on him. (Well, alright, it was more often that that.) It was important to go to that prom. Lars was right, it would make him a man.

This prom will make me a man, Lars thought quietly to himself, feeling the gap of his missing front tooth with his tongue on the third floor bedroom. The truth was, and Lars admitted this to himself, he was a coward. The reason he didn't go to the previous year's prom was not because of the shoulder injury he had faked, but because no girl had agreed to go with him. Of course, he hadn't asked any girl, but that was beside the point. He was eighteen, college-bound and single, about the worst possible combination in the world. Shivering a kind of loathsome shiver, he realised he'd have to ask his brother for help.

By Wednesday, Reggie was beginning to feel worried. Firstly, she hadn't talked to Otto for two whole days. He'd cooped himself in his room slamming Black Sabbath and only came out for toilet breaks and meals. She'd heard from Sam that Twister was going to the prom as well, and concluded her brother was feeling betrayed.

That wasn't the only thing she was worried about: It was already Wednesday and she didn't have a date. Sherry had been asked by Trent, and soon became the envy of the town's female circles (although she'd kept fretting at Otto's inaction, which annoyed everyone.) Trish had, of course, already got Sam a long time ago. Reggie could not help feeling unwanted and was beginning, once again, to regret agreeing to go for the prom.

Today was supposed to be the day. Sherry had taken time off styling her hair to accompany Reggie on a "town walk", continually insisting that it wasn't considered a "desperate action". 'See?' Sherry would say, pointing at some blonde bitch, 'Ashley's doing it too!'

Reggie would then roll her eyes and shake her head, and Sherry would stop her, correct her manly hand gestures, and they'd proceed. The trick was to look completely calm and nonchalant and speak with your clothes. (or so Sherry claimed). Smiling, they'd stop by one bar or another for a drink, glancing ever so casually at boys.

Reggie checked her reflection in a glass of milkshake as they sat at The Blue Moon, a coast bar.

'Reg, this won't work,' Sherry said, rather sharply.

'What?' Reggie pushed her sunglasses up, 'Why?'

'You've got to have some sort of target! This isn't desperation, but the way you're going about it, it's like you're trying to get lucky. Lucky isn't in the prom vocab, girl. You've got to think about some guy, any guy, and act like you hope you'll meet him.' Sherry winked, 'Come on, pick someone from your class.'

'Are you kidding? They're all gross!' Reggie said, then followed with an 'Oops'. 'I don't think I get it,' she admitted, bashfully.

'Hmm, let me think up an example,' Sherry thought for a while, gazing around, 'Ah, look at that group there- Cheryl, Amanda and Melissa, yeah. They're hoping to bag Lars Rodriguez.' It was true; there was a certain attentiveness, a certain coyness about the three girls that Regina, in the entire morning, had not expressed at all.

'Wait. Lars? Are you kidding me?!' Regina stuck her tongue out, 'Lars is mean and disgusting; I can't think of any worse adjectives for a boy.'

Sherry shook her head, 'Man, Reg, you still stuck in '02 or something? Lars is probably the most sought dude in OS. He's tall, gritty and Latin, you'd be lucky, and I mean lucky, to bag him.'

'Give me a break, Sherry,' Regina said, her brain suddenly straining, against her own will, to recall the last time she'd seen him. Dusting her shirt, she stood to leave. Yeah, maybe I'll pick Lars, she thought.

In another bar completely removed from The Blue Moon, Lars and Twister sat on barstools, trying not to recognise each other, which was stupid as they'd agreed to meet.

'So, bro,' Twister said, realising he had the upper hand in the situation, 'Why you want to see me?'

This is humiliation, Lars thought. He coughed, 'You see, Twist, girls like you.'

Twister raised an eyebrow.

'But they hate me,' Lars added. He felt pathetic.

'Aw, don't worry bro, you'll find someone!' Twister said cheerfully, sipping his ice cream soda. He pushed a Vodka to his brother.

'Twister.' Lars scowled, 'That doesn't help me.'

'You didn't say you wanted help,' Twister said, thoughtfully, 'You'll have to ask.'

Don't strangle him, Lars warned himself, he knows something you don't. 'Fine,' he sighed, 'Please help me Twister.'

'Ahahaha! This is fun!' Twister laughed, and immediately fell silent, realising he was well within punching range, 'Sorry, Lars. The truth is, I'm not sure how to help you. You see, I think girls think I'm nice and good looking.'

'Are you implying I'm not nice and good looking?' Lars narrowed his eyes.

'Uhm, no bro, no, it's just that, uhm, girls are quite dumb, so they can't really see your, uhm, nice side?' Twister gulped.

'Go on, that sounds reasonable.'

'So maybe you could drop more obvious hints, I don't know,' Twister shrugged and resumed sipping the soda. 'Don't beat up so many people. Hold a door for them.'

Lars thought for a while, then nodded, 'Well, well, seems like you do have some sort of brain in that head, Twist.' He thumped his brother on the back and swigged his Vodka.

'They also hate the smell of alcohol,' The busty female bartender added, handing Lars a bottle of mineral water, 'You better douse it before you try picking up some chick.'

'I can't take it anymore Sherry! I quit! I'll just skip prom! It's no big,' Reggie strode furiously down the street, turning heads for the first time that day. Six hours and not even one guy had talked to her? Reggie was at an all time low. To make things worse, Sherry was asked thrice, and she was already engaged for the night!

'Come on Reg, we're just looking in the wrong places!' Sherry pleaded.

'Looking? Hello, Sherry, we were NEVER looking!' Reggie argued, 'Remember? Miss-This-is-Totally-not-Desperate?!' They rounded another corner, drew in breaths to continue bickering and crashed into Lars, fresh out of the bar and smelling like the Alps.

'Whoa!' Lars cried, grabbing Reggie by her elbows to prevent her from falling. For a second, both of them were caught, entangled, in an extremely awkward position. Sherry, wisely, made a graceful exit into the nearest bar.

Reggie recovered from her shock and looked up at Lars. He immediately released her and she immediately remembered how she had, for a fleeting second, considered him as an escort. 'Look where you're going, dorkface!' She snapped, her pride too potent to be curbed by any other emotion, 'And how dare you touch me!'

Lars didn't even hear her. All he could do was stare at the shape of her shoulders and her uncompromising hips. He felt her anger too, dripping from her dagger-full eyes over her taut collarbones right down to her reddened palms. In a morbid way, he felt proud at having inspired such a strong emotion. He wondered, almost aloud, how many girls looked beautiful when they were angry?

'Hello, Lars, I'm waiting for my apology,' Reggie tapped her heels impatiently. You're blowing it, she thought to herself.

And, completely to Reggie's surprise, Lars said it. 'I'm sorry I crashed into you.'

Reggie frowned. She pushed Lars to a side, once again surprised that he had complied, and strode ahead. Her anger instantly vanished to replaced by a great sense of regret. Damn you Reggie, she thought, Now Lars thinks you're a heinous bitch. She felt tears roll down her cheeks.

In the bar, Sherry had taken a seat next to Twister, who was still sipping the ice cream soda.

'Wow, what did you say to your bro Twist?' Sherry asked, having eavesdropped the entire exchange between her best friend and Lars from the safety of the bar.

Twister, who hadn't noticed a thing, shook his head, 'Why do you ask?'

'Dude, didn't you hear that outside? Lars apologised to Reggie after they crashed. I have never heard your brother apologise to anyone,' Sherry smiled, 'You give him tips or something?'

'Whoa, did you say Reggie?'

'Yeah.'

'My bro apologised to Reggie? I mean, yeah, I did tell him some stuff… I didn't expect him to… what did Reggie say?' Twister put down his soda and turned earnestly to Sherry.

'Nothing, she just stomped away,' Sherry said, 'What's up?'

'Nothing.' Twister replied quickly, putting two dollars on the counter for the soda and leaving quickly. He found Lars outside, staring into empty space and approached cautiously. The boy looked frighteningly distant.

'Uhm, Lars?' He ventured.

'Twister,' Lars said absently, in a kind of raspy voice, 'Look at her.' Both brothers looked at the slender, slowly vanishing silhouette that was Reggie, and each felt a flash of some sort of feeling up their spine.

'Twister,' Lars said again, unable to move, 'If you'll help me get Reggie, I'll give you forty bucks.'

Twister gasped, 'Did I hear you alright? You want to date Reggie? But she's Otto's sister. You know Otto the brat, your worse enemy?'

'No, of course not! I mean, yes I do, I mean, look, forty bucks man,' Lars was starting to thaw.

'And…'

Lars sighed, 'And no whomping, I promise. I mean, unless you don't help me.'

Twister bit his lip. Forty bucks was a hell lot of money for your worse enemy's sister. That, coupled with the threat of physical violence, and the fact that he and Reggie could only be friends, remember, so what's the difference? , he decided to take it, ' Fine, but I don't understand you at all, bro, Otto is a jerk, remember, a bloody, stuck-up arrogant bastard!'

This time it was Lars who turned to Twister, giving him a strange look. Twister blinked, Oh god, I just insulted my best friend. He hit his temples a few times. Dude, what is wrong with me?

'All alone,' Otto mumbled to himself. He flipped open another cult book and read curses feverishly, 'My friends are jerks. My sister is a jerk. May them all rot in hell.' He took Black Sabbath off the CD player and replaced it with Metallica. He didn't even know why he bothered turning up for the comp ('cept for the prize money): his supporters were gone, he hadn't skated since forever and the comp was in two days. I'll just lose and complete my misery, Otto thought, Yeah, that is totally the way to go.

He walked down to get a coke and realised his sister was sitting on the sofa, her face wet with tears. She hadn't noticed him come down.

Otto looked at his sister. She looked a mess. He didn't think the whole girl thing suited her at all. She'd probably been out 'town walking' like the other girls, and clearly, to no avail. He felt sorry for her. After all, she was fucking pretty, she was a Rocket. After pausing for a moment, Otto joined his sister on the couch.

'Hey Reg, you want a coke.'

She shook her head dismissedly.

'Are you…'

'Shut up!' Reggie wiped her eyes clear of tears and gazed at him angrily, 'I can't go to the prom now, are you happy?'

'No, of course I'm not Reg,' Otto said, trying a smile. He realised he had forgiven her, 'Reg, you're my sister and I know you want to dress up and dance and all that weird stuff and it's cool. Damn, I'd curse any guy that didn't look twice at you, I mean, no one treats my sister that way man and gets away with it!'

Reggie looked up and laughed bitterly.

'I can get Twister to escort you,' Otto added. 'I'm sure he'd do it out of friendship. I mean, Twister is a really handsome dude too, he's got freckles and cheekbones, real manly cheekbones.' Oops, Otto thought, I'm gay. 'I mean,' he coughed, 'We can totally solve your problem.'

Reggie began to smile. It was obvious she was struggling not to. 'Wow, Otto, you are such a great brother.' She leant over and hugged him.

'And I guess I'm really sorry for talking about your breasts in public,' Otto said, sheepishly.

'It's okay, but, I mean, you can't just ask Twister like that, it'll be like I'm desperate,' Reggie said. 'And, I mean, it's Twister, he's a friend.' She stopped, 'Let it sit till tomorrow.'

'No problem,' Otto said, smiling and walking back to his room. Well, even if things had changed, there wasn't a reason why they couldn't still be good friends.

'What do you mean you can't escort Reg?' Otto yelled into the phone. 'What if no one asks her?'

'Believe me, I'd love to,' Twister said, truthfully, 'But I can't do it. And I can't tell you why.'

'That's not good enough for me, man,' Otto said, 'This is my sister we're talking about, okay, not some plain jane. You will tell me why you can't escort her or I'm coming over.'

Twister sighed and lowered his voice, 'Look, Lars wants to ask her out.'

'Oh shit,' Otto said, 'Did you even try to discourage him, Twist? My sister cannot date Lars! It would be a full frontal betrayal! Worse, treason!'

'Believe me,' Twister said, feeling a twinge of guilt, 'I tried my darndest.'

It was Thursday morning when Lars called Twister to his room. 'Hey Twist! It's time to help me, remember!'

Grudgingly, Twister walked up to his brother's room. He had never been there before. It was a dark, ugly room strewn with half-eaten pizza and pistachio shells. A few gory comics sat atop a computer, which bleeped humourlessly. Lars pulled a backless stool for his brother and stretched out on the bed. Twister, understandably, felt like a shrink.

'Okay, Twist, you've been hanging out with Reg all your life. What does she like?'

Twister racked his brain. The truth was, he didn't know. He never really saw Reggie as a girl back in middle school days, so he hadn't bothered with girly stuff like favourite colour and star sign. 'Uh, skating. Although I don't know about that now. Uhm, surfing and biking too.'

'Dude, it's forty bucks plus no whomping.'

'Look, Lars, all I know about her is what she used to be like. She used to be tough and kind and smart. Oh wait, and she liked the colour orange.' No, Twister realised, it's not that I don't know her, it's that I don't want Lars to know her.

'That's more like it. Keep shooting, bro.'

'She writes a lot, yeah, you should read her Zine,' Twister said, 'She writes about all sorts of stuff, sports, music, fashion.'

'She writes,' Lars thought about the word, 'Man, I could send her a letter. It's a kind of written thing, isn't it. Yeah, dude, that would totally work. Man, I'm a genius! Hey, Twist, you write it. Quick, I'll give you a half hour.'

Twister sighed, not even bothering to tell Lars that it probably wouldn't be sincere that way, and picked up a pen. He was beginning to feel that the both of them were not born to be men.

A letter came in the mail on Thursday. Reggie took it and Otto hid in his room, dreading every minute. He knew who it'd be. The postmistress gave Reggie a knowing look, 'Looks like you got a date for the prom, hon.'

Reggie blushed and tore up the envelope.

Dear Regina, it read, This may shock you. The thing is, I've known you for so long yet I didn't realise how beautiful you truly were until very recently. You're like a star. Maybe I've known it all along, but haven't dared tell you till now. I would be love to take you to the prom on the 20th. Signed, Lars

Reggie, at first confused then remarkably flattered, collapsed into the couch and shrieked, 'Otto! You won't believe who asked me to the prom!'

Otto heard her anxious footsteps rip up the stairs and buried his head in his pillow. It was the end of the world as he knew it.

Twister came back from the post box thoroughly miserable. He couldn't believe that he'd composed a note, completely sincere, and in his opinion, articulate, to a girl he'd only just realised he loved profoundly and signed off as his hated brother. It was all his fault: his hesitation, fear and split second choice of forty dollars for a happy life.

He fingered the extremely inadequate forty dollars in his pocket and cursed himself. It had been this way ever since he'd met Reggie, so many years ago, on the beach just by The Shack. That day, she taught him how to fly a kite. He looked out at the shoobies now, flying kites and stuck his tongue out. All of them had the same type of kite: plastic, waterproof, ugly.

None of them had a kite made from bamboo by a beautiful girl. Regina was a beautiful girl. He'd never dared tell her that- she was tough, powerful, somewhat of a goddess. You didn't just go up to a goddess and tell her she was beautiful. So he'd waited, and waited, and it had become increasingly difficult to formulate what he'd wanted to say, mainly because they'd become friends. You didn't just go up to a friend and tell her she was beautiful. Well, not when you were a guy. At fifteen, it became impossible which was when he faltered, became convinced that they were born to be friends and friends only. That was when Lars took her, just like that.

Lars had always been bold, unlike him. He was a coward. A coward. He realised how Otto must have felt, losing a small part of Reggie when the girl had decided to go for the prom. Kicking the sand, Twister begun to tear.

No, he thought, I can't let that letter reach Reggie. I've got to stop it! He stepped onto his skateboard and with the fury of a madman, he headed dead straight for the post-box. The fear, the terrible, gripping fear that he might never get to take her out, hold her, because he hadn't tried, consumed him. He didn't care what he'd have to do, wreck the post-box, go to jail, anything. The letter would not be sent.

As he approached the post-box, he knew that all hope was lost. Postmistress Anna was already scooting down the street. She'd cleared the box and was heading straight for the Rockets in a contraception that Twister couldn't possibly overtake on a board.

Slowing down to a stop, Twister let himself fall onto the dirt-strewn pavement. With one hand, he buried his face and sobbed. With the other, he tore up the forty dollars.

'Hello, may I speak to Cleo please?'

'This is Cleo…Twister?'

'Uhm, hi, Cleo, you see, I've got to ask you something.'

'Shoot.'

'This may sound a bit blunt but may I take you to the prom?'

'Asking a cousin? That's desperate.'

'I know.' There was a sigh. 'I'm desperate, Cleo.'

'Well, I'm sorry Twister, you won't be able to.'

'Oh, you've got an escort already?'

'No, I'm going for the night skate competition. I mean, when you know you're the prettiest, why bother with a prom?'

'Hello, may I speak to Eddie, Prince of NW?'

'MY GOOD DENIZEN! HOW MAY I BE OF ASSISTANCE? Uhm, it's Twister right?'

'Yeah, hi Eddie, may I ask you something?'

'SPEAK, MORTAL! You want to escort me to the prom? That's really flattering, but I'll have to turn it down- Martin's already offered.'

'No, no, I'm definitely not asking you!'

'Oh.'

'I need to ask you for a favour regarding prom entertainment, which I heard you're doing.'

'THE MORTAL SPEAKS WELL! So, what's up?'

'I'd like to sing a song. I mean, I think I'm okay.'

'THE MORTAL IS TOO MODEST! I'll put you after the clown and the fat dancing girls, s'okay? You need my band? We're all free.'

'Awesome, thanks Eddie.'

'Hello, Otto?'

'Oh, it's my treacherous best friend. I don't believe you have the nerve to call me, Twister! I saw that note, it's your freaking handwriting! What's up with that? Lars pay you to betray me, huh, Twist? How could you do that to Reggie? You know Lars is a jerkhead- he'll break her heart or something. Fuck! This is my SISTER we're talking about dude. My SISTER and your FRIEND.'

'Please don't slam the phone on me, Otto. Let me explain.'

'I can't wait to here this.'

'Look, Otto, I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I helped Lars get Reggie because I didn't know what else to do. You see, I love her too.'

'What?! Okay, look, I'm not the expert, but that makes no fucking sense, Twist.'

'Yes it does. I was uncomfortable from the beginning, when I finally dared admit to myself that I liked her. I mean, she was like a sis to me, we were all tight. How could I like her? It'd be weird. But I did…uhm, but I didn't want to.When Lars turned to me, I helped him. I thought that would change things, but it didn't. I really didn't mean to hurt you and Reggie.'

'What the hell, so you sold Reggie cause you crushed on her and it was screwing you over? How could you crush on my sister, Twist, that's fucking sick!?'

'That's what I thought!'

'So you sold her to Lars?'

'He wanted her badly, Otto, and cause I was didn't want to, uhm, want her badly, I helped him! I'm sorry alright!'

'This is so fucked up.' Otto drew in a deep breath, 'What is it about my sister that turned the both of you into fucking morons?'

'You know, Otto. That's why you didn't want her to go the prom in the first place.'

Otto strapped his knee protections and grabbed his board to head down to Mad Town early. For all the misery it had caused him, he'd better win the damned competition. The sky dipped its purple lids and a cool wind blew over the street as he strode, quickly at first and then slowing down to a stroll.

He passed the Rodriguez house and saw lights on in Twister's room. Misery loves company, he thought to himself, feeling very much alone. He'd been used to having a steady gang for so long he'd forgotten what it was like to be himself. Felt uncomfortable not having people to boast to, to boast about.

Twister wasn't in his room. He'd left it on so people wouldn't go in. Otto knew where Twister was, in the ramp behind his house, skating.

He missed Twister, suddenly, the way they could talk and skate and whomp each other, before all these complications about growing up and sister crushes and bruised egos and everything that the week had been. Just solid hanging out, surfing, buying comics and bitching about Spanish class. He missed that.

Otto walked around the house. Nope, Twister wasn't on the ramp. He'd read it wrong. That didn't happen often. Where could Twister be? He had an insane urge to hug the boy very hard, tell him that he still had a chance with his sister (a task immensely difficult since he was pissed Twister liked her in the first place), beat Lars into crap and claim his sister and Twister back from the recesses of their childhood. Sam, too. He wanted to do all that, and yet Twister wasn't there. For him or for anybody.

He continued to walk down to MadTown. He could see the lights, hear the shouts and skid sounds, even a few distant 'Here comes Otto, I totally want his autograph.' All these kids were young, twelve and very good. Otto wasn't scared of losing the competition, he was scared of these mutts, all simple and full of speed.

He skated into MadTown to massive applause and took the ramp immediately, doing the routine, trying to avoid the gap left by Twister's non-existent camcorder, going faster and faster until it was impossible to think, impossible to feel, impossible to notice a small figure with red hair looking into the Rockets' house, realising his best friend wasn't in and that'd he'd read it all wrong.

Otto kept it up for fifteen minutes, ignoring the wolf whistles and chants and then he saw them both, all decked up in suits, hair combed well but still making their way towards him. He slowed down and came to a rest at the base of the ramp, blinking to clear his watery eyes.

'Squid? Twist?'

Both boys engulfed him in a hug, not caring that the suits were two hundred dollars each, and that Otto was grimy from skating.

'Good luck, Otto, win the competition, we're behind you all the way,' Sam whispered in his ear.

Twister hugged him extra hard,'Yeah, Otto, you can do it! You can do anything!' 'I'm sorry, Bro,' he added, 'I'll make sure Lars doesn't dis your sis.'

They pulled apart and Twister and Sam quickly straightened their suits. Otto, his dreadlocks still out of place, looked at both his friends and spontaneously burst into a kind of half-laugh, half-cry that was both terrifying and addictive. Twister and Sam looked at each other, and then at Otto and burst out laughing as well.

'You two look totally weird,' Otto said, grinning from ear to ear, 'And I mean that in a good way.' They stopped and, for the first time in that week, perhaps in their whole lives, Oswald Rocket, Samuel Stonewall Dullard and Maurice Gabriel Twister Rodriguez looked at each other like men, each different, capable and independent, and yet somehow bound together by a thick cord of camaraderie.

I have the best friends in the world, Otto thought.

'Good luck with Trish, Sam,' Otto said shaking his hand, 'And you too, Twist, heard you're going to sing. Man, I'll always be behind the both of you. Always.' And naturally, spontaneously, they extended their hands for the woogle, unabashed now that they knew who they were.

Was she hurt that Otto hadn't wished her good luck? Reggie didn't have much capacity to worry about it now that it was a quarter to eight, when Lars would pick her up. Lars, who was eighteen, would drive his vintage Peugeot, and they'd head to school, arm in arm and completely dazzling.

Of course, that was all in her head. She'd had Trish and Sherry over earlier to help her with eyeshadow, shawls and the like, but now, both had returned home to freshen up and the house was an uneasy quiet. She could even distinguish the different sounds from all the machines in the kitchen and it was driving her insane.

To be honest, whilst she'd acknowledged that makeup and well-cut clothes were necessary, they were a pain the arse and were bound to screw up. Ah, if only she could go in her army pants and a shirt. Uncomfortably, Reggie realised she was still very much a tomboy.

And then there was Lars, just last week the only boy left on her hate list, and now her escort. Reggie supposed they had never had anything too personal against each other; they were simply like two separate parents who knew their children had fought before and hence were uncomfortable with each other.

And if she knew Lars at all, the boy would be much more frightened than her right now. The thought gave her a little more confidence. Hey, she was Reggie Rocket, terror of the waves, after all.

Lars arrived a minute early, too early in his opinion, but at least it gave him some time to muster his courage before pressing the doorbell. He had, unlike popular belief, never asked a girl out before and certainly not on this scale. Realising there was nothing for it, he pressed the bell.
The prom was well under way by the time Reggie and Lars appeared but it was impossible for everyone not to turn and stare at them. To put it simply, they were the most gorgeous couple in the room: Regina had worn a rather daring short skirt halter dress and it matched her purple make up perfectly. Walking down the carpet, she looked both regal and sassy. Lars, who, of course, was tall, gritty, Latin and had decided to leave his hair messy, looked more than qualified to escort her. They walked rather fast, suddenly abashed at the attention and whistles, to the cocktail tables.

Lars handed Reggie a punch, smiling and both of them felt relieved that pauses and inappropriate questions hadn't plagued the first few minutes of the evening. In fact, strange as it may seem, Reggie found Lars rather charming. Needless to say, Lars couldn't take his eyes off Reggie.

'Why, look at you, Reggie. You're completely gorgeous!' Sherry exclaimed from halfway across the room. Tugging Trent by the hand, she crossed quickly to the table and gave Reggie a large, girly hug.

'You look splendid yourself, Sherry,' Reggie said smiling, 'And you too Trent.' She noticed Trent glaring rather enviously at Lars and felt rather flattered. After the introductions, which Reggie felt were rather pointless since everyone knew everyone in OS anyway, they begun to converse as couples do at weddings: the two women loudly and excitedly, referring to their partners in third person; the two men rather quiet and strong, keeping to politics and the weather.

Soon, Sherry, Trent, Reggie and Lars were joined by Sam, a tad untidy now, and Trish, who looked strangely Chinese, and they begun talking about the year, as final year students are prone to: how Sam had been promoted a year and had aced the college entrances; how Reggie's mag had been imported to Oregon; how they had all changed and were now friends, even Lars, you bastard, and how funny it all was, until, finally, they parted for the dancing.

'Where's Twister?' Reggie asked, randomly, as Lars guided her to the dance floor.

He looked momentarily annoyed, 'I don't know. He could be anywhere.' He pulled her slightly closer, changing the subject, 'You know, Reggie, I don't know how to dance.'

Reggie's eyes widened, 'Serious? Well, that won't be a problem, I don't know how to dance either.' Laughing lightly, they proceeded to dance. Twister's non-existence, their old enmity, and years and years of childhood faded as the music rose.

Twister had decided to watch it all from the side of the stage. He'd seen everything, the way couples met, drank, talked, pretended to be adults, he'd cursed their transient happiness, the sweetness of the punch, the way girls had to grab each other's elbows and the way boys saved their smiles for their dates only.

He'd seen his brother, that tall bastard brandishing his cheekbones and wide shoulders (which, by the way, was characteristic of all Rodriguezes), seen him lead the girl of his dreams to the floor. Lars couldn't dance, he hadn't learnt the samba, flamenco, tango, waltz and rumba like Twister had- so there they were, smiling, touching, pretending to dance, pretending to be in love. Or maybe they were truly, but he didn't dare think that way. He'd seen Reggie step into the room like Venus, seen her look around. For him? No, he didn't dare think that way either. He slipped back behind the curtain, past Eddie and Martin kissing, into the small room to look over the notes of the song he'd sing.

At least, he thought, lying to himself, She's happy and that's enough for me.

Otto won the night skate competition. It was a close contest, but it couldn't have gone any other way. Otto was, by far, the most professional skater in OS. He felt elated, knowing he had won thanks to the blessing of his two tightest amigos. Lifting the small gold-plated trophy above his head for the fifteenth time that year, he knew it was a victory for all three of them.

Conroy had chased everyone out of MadTown to clean up so Otto took a seat on a bench by the beach, thinking about things. Unexpectedly, a petite figure crept up to him and boldly took a seat next to him.

'Congratulations, Otto.' Cleo said, extending a dark hand.

'You were very good too, Cleo,' Otto said, smiling, 'What's up?'

'Something about you struck me when you were skating,' She said, shrugging, 'A kind of distracted fury. It intrigued me.'

Cleo is the silver bullet, keep your guard up, Otto told himself.

'Oh.'

'You're not in love, are you?'

'No, of course not.'

'But you are, Otto Rocket, you're in love with your sister.' Cleo shot him a cheeky, knowing look, 'It happens, nothing to be ashamed of.'

'Nonsense, I'm not in love with Reggie!' Otto cried, knowing that Cleo was goading his subconscious in that very direction.

'Oh yeah, and I'm Queen Cleopatra.'

'You are such a trouble-maker, Cleo,' Otto said, knowing a hundred per cent that he'd already been seduced and could do nothing.

'And that, Otto Rocket, is why you've got to love me and not Reggie,' Cleo said, leaning forward to brush her lips against Otto's. Well, he thought, in the last few moments before he lost his senses, I suppose this is alright. Dating a Rodriguez is alright.

'They're going to crown Prom King and Queen after this last "surprise" performance,' Trish whispered excitedly to Reggie, 'I think you and Lars will win.'

'Don't be silly! You and Sam have a much better chance,' Reggie said, blushing a little and realising there was that definite possibility. Lars squeezed her hand and they exchanged a sly, hopeful grin.

'Well, what's this performance anyway?' Reggie said, hoping it would be over quickly.

Eddie stepped back onto stage, guitar and cloak slung over his shoulders, 'Ladies and Gentleman, rounding up the night, we have Twister Rodriguez singing 'A Picture of You'!' Everyone applauded and whistled. Twister was, after all, a grade A tenor.

'What? Twister's singing?' Reggie cried, pleasantly surprised, 'Sam, did you know?'

'No, of course not!' Sam lied. 'Cool!'

'Twister is singing?!' Lars frowned and instinctively squeezed Reggie's hand a little harder, 'My brother is singing an IRISH SONG?!' Reggie trod on Lars's foot and gave him a little glare: Twister had walked onto the stage.

Everyone fell silent, for Twister walked with a rather mature gravity and it became quite obvious that he, too, had the Rodriguez genes for height, grit and that distinct and sexy Latin look. Standing before the mike, he broke out in an irresistible smile and everyone once again cheered, including Reggie, who Twister was now looking straight at.

'This song is dedicated to Regina Rocket.' He said, amidst wolf whistles and a distinct 'oooh'. Reggie started and put her free hand over her mouth. Her other hand, still limp in Lars's was held yet tighter still and Reggie thought she heard a 'What the hell…'Then, Martin started the beat and the room exploded with infectious energy.

Reggie didn't take her eyes of Twister throughout the entire song and it appeared, he didn't take his off her either. She listened to each word of the song, as if each was a heartbeat- I had a picture of you in my mind/ never knew it could be so wrong (Goodness, was he referring to his perception of her?)/Why'd it take me so long just to find/ the friend that was there all along/ Who'd believe that after all we've been through/ I'd be able to put my whole trust in you/ (Goodness, was he in love with her?) Goes to show you/ can't forgive and forget/ looking back, I have no regrets cause../ You will be there, when I needed somebody/ You will be there, the only one to help me…

'This song's totally stupid,' Lars muttered, rather audibly.

No, Reggie thought, This song's not stupid at all. She stared into Twister's eyes and realised he was singing it to her alone. He meant it all, was still meaning it, even as the song, deceptively catchy, drew to a close and Twister looked into the crowd, his face glazed in euphoria. He stood there, smiling and waving, slightly embarassed, not looking at her and she thought, I am standing before a god.

'Is it over yet? My brother is such a dork man, what the hell was that all about?!' Lars cursed, 'And how dare he dedicate that piece of crap to you, Reg.'

Reggie, who had been profoundly moved by the song and, feeling that she understood it completely, wanted more than anything in the world to talk to Twister now. She had turned around to rebuke Lars when Eddie suddenly reappeared on stage to announce the results for the prom titles. The whole room went quiet and Reggie went limp once more.

Too many things were running through her head, but what was obvious, and thus most confusing, was the fact that the song was doubtless a declaration of love. What else could it be? But how could that be? Twister, her friend only of eight years? Full of theses and antitheses, thoughts and emotions, the world swirled around Reggie, who missed hearing Eddie announce that Sam and Trish had won Mr and Miss Personality, and almost missed hearing Eddie, in bated breath, announce: 'AND THE WINNER OF PROM KING AND QUEEN THIS YEAR ARE REGINA ROCKET AND LARS EDUARDO RODRIGUEZ!'

There was massive cheering, all of which the still reeling Reggie missed. There were people that nudged her up the stage, who placed a shining tiara on her head, who congratulated her, told her she deserved it, all of which was lost for all Reggie could think about was Twister and his song

Assuming she was shocked at having won the most prestigious title ever in OS, Eddie nudged her as well , articulating, slowly, into the mike: 'Now, isn't it time for the King to kiss his Queen?' There were more wolf whistles at this, and Reggie, who had been flustered and bewildered just moments ago suddenly snapped back into herself.

She saw Twister, standing at the doorway, solitary and melancholic like a butterfly, watching her, and decided right there on the spot, that she loved him. It seemed sudden yet natural, like it was fated- he was the first boy friend she'd had, the boy who'd stood by her all these years, lending her that small, freckled hand with all the goodness of his heart, the boy who could make her laugh, the boy who'd dedicated a love song to her and meant it, the boy who'd called her the most beautiful girl in the world.

She now felt Lars wrapping his arms around her shoulders and from the corner of her eye, with some despair, she saw Twister quietly leave the room.

At the last moment, Reggie pulled away from Lars and dashed down the stairs. The crowd gasped in amazement, and Lars swore outright. Eddie, stricken at her sudden movement, attempted to calm the crowd to no avail.

Reggie ran right past her friends, past the table and the standing lamps, right out towards the doorway. Sam gave a cry of victory quite inappropriate and soon, the whole room, realising what was happening, begun cheering once again.

Reggie ran right out of the ballroom and found Twister walking dejectedly down the hallway. 'Twister Rodriguez!' she called. The boy turned around, hardly daring to believe she was right there, in front of him, running towards him. Eyes watering, hands trembling, he strode quickly back down the way he'd came.

Reggie wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips rather violently against his and both of them remained there, locked in the inevitable, complete embrace that was to be the final product of fourteen years of adolescence, all at once beautiful and necessary.

The room had now poured into the corridor and everyone watched Twister and Reggie, perhaps the only two people that night completely absorbed in each other. With that kiss, they erased the pain and guilt off each other and exchanged pieces of themselves like there was no tomorrow.

When they finally parted, they were smiling. There was no shame, no regret, nothing left to be said or clarified. They had crossed over together, just like Otto and Cleo kissing on the beach, and Sam and Trish smiling at their tiaras. It was as it should be, as it should always have been.