Cliché Carnival. A Sky High Fanfiction.

No-fucking-way.

Authors Note: MY GOD!! It's my first non-Twilight fanfiction! You don't understand how euphoric I am. LET'S REJOICE!!! (Happy dance) IT'S FOR SKY HIGH, NO WAI! Yeah, I just recently saw the entire thing for the first time. (Admitting time: I saw it yesterday) Mm, yeah, well. I had this idea pop into my head. Inspiration: my mom told me how when she and her cousin lived in Colombia (a small, third-world country in South America. That's right. I'm Hispanic. 100 bitch.) They went to the mall, and in this mall, there is a full-size ferris wheel. Well, Mom's terrified of heights, Aunt Martha loves making Mom angry. So, she did exactly what Warren does. Layla's exclamations are an exact quotation. (To an extent. There are no translations for a few words, so I had to improvise.)
Two shot. Would be one shot, but I'm stupid and made this authors note too long. WarrenxLayla.

Cliché Carnival.

"Hi, Mom," I said into the phone. "What's up?"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I can't make dinner tonight. I was walking home when this stray cat..." She sounded disappointed.

"It's alright, mom. I can totally handle dinner by myself. You just help that cat, okay?" I lied. God knows I can't cook.

"Okay, honey. I'll call you when I'm on my way. Night."

Well, isn't this just peachy? First Will tells me he can't go with me to the carnival tomorrow. Now mom bails on dinner. Oh well. Since making dinner's outta the question, I guess I'll go out to eat. I grabbed my sweater and cell phone and left. Onward, to the Paper Lantern.

Maybe, if I'm lucky, I can dump my problems on Warren. I just know how much he hates it when I do that. Maybe bothering Warren will lift my spirits.

I walked into the restaurant and was seated by a pretty, Asian girl who seemed no older than me. She gave me my menu and scurried off. I couldn't help but notice Warren sigh as he headed towards me. I giggled. He's so cute when he's annoyed.

"What's bugging you?" He asked as he slid into the seat across from me.

"Oh, Warren. Can't a girl visit her friend?" I asked politely, batting my eyelashes.

"No." He said, simple as that.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like being bothered by hān huār gū niang with nothing better to do. Especially not while I'm working."

"What did you call me?"

"Hān huār gū niang. It's Chinese for Silly flower girl."

"But I thought I was a silly hippy."

"Yes, but…Wait, that's not important. Why do you care what I call you, anyway?"

"I'd prefer being called by my name. Which, incase you don't know, is Layla."

"I know what your name is. But I don't think you came here to tell me what your name is."

"I didn't. But, I just thought you should know. Hey, who was that girl who showed me my seat?" I asked. I just love playing with him.

"Her name's Mei Ling. Now what do you want?" This is when bothering him gets boring. He can never keep his mind off of a topic for too long.

"Well, if you must know, my mother couldn't make me dinner and Lord knows I can't cook, so I came here. And, well, when I'm bored, and I need someone to talk to, you're just the guy I need." I said as I took his hand, flashing a playful smile.

"Why don't you talk to Will?"

"He's in Japan. Something about monsters ravaging the city or something. Which reminds me, are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"No. Why?"

"I was supposed to go with Will to the carnival, but, like I said, he's in Japan so I was wondering if you'd go with me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because the Han…Hua...gi...Na…wants you to." I said, struggling to remember the words Warren used.

"One, it's Hān huār gū niang, two, is that all you got?"

"Ple-ease!" I pleaded, squeezing his hand, frustrated.

"…Fine. Under one condition: You order your food before Mei Ling explodes. This is her first customer."

"Deal!"

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(A/N: I don't know if Han huar gu niang are the exact words. I used an online translator.)

I scrunched my hair and put on just the right amount of make-up (I didn't want to look bad for Warren, but I didn't want to look trampy by slathering it on) and slouched onto the couch. Warren was going to pick me up in five minutes.

While I waited, I practiced my lemon-making abilities. Orange. No. Apple. No. Banana, guava, star fruit, peach, potato, (What?! That doesn't grow on trees!) Everything but no lemons. Argh!

Ding-dong!

"Come in!" I called. I kept trying in that small flowerpot.

"What are you doing?" Warren asked.

"Trying to make lemons. I don't what it is, but I just can't make them."

He sat down next to me.

"Try thinking about getting it right, not about getting it wrong." He suggested. It was worth a shot. I did as he said and, shooting out of the pot, was a little mini-lemon.

"I did it!" I shrieked.

"Yeah. But how big is it? That's smaller than my pinkie."

"Who cares?!" I said as I threw my arms around him.

He grunted.

"You're killing my plant!" He said.

"What!?" I said, almost shuddering at the thought of murdering a poor plant. I stopped embracing him, and then I noticed what he meant. In his hand was a rose, half-squished because had hugged him.

"Yeah. I was hoping you'd like it. I picked it from my lawn. But you, like, squished it. Thanks. A lot." He said. Why was he blushing?

"I do, I love it. I'll fix it, one sec." I said, pecking his cheek. I seized the rose and placed it in a flowerpot on my window sill where it could get a lot of sun.

"Shall we go?" I asked as I grabbed his hand on my way to the door.