Gretchen pattered down the wide halls of highschool, her peripheral assisted in helping her avoid collisions. At times it was difficutl due to the fact that some felt it was completly necisarry to stop and chat or tet where they stand. In any given place, and at any given time, a clot of people would develop in these halls. It was especialy prone to occur near the lunch hall.

Gretchen stopped as she arrived at a clot where people chatted and confused, busy bodies tried to find a leak in the obstruction. Usually a mottled stream breaks through and the group deteriorates until eventually, only a few still-confused students remained. Once one enters teh clot, it tends to get hectic. Any moment, someone could step on your foot, elbow you, knock you over, or a fight could break out. Most othe time however, it was just a friendly gathering of friends, cliques, and thoseunfortunated enough to get snagged in the Swiffer Duster of Conversation.

As a smal, steady streame broke thoguh, somebody suddenly turned to depart their group and ramed into Gretchen. It was a big guy, so of course, she went flying a few steps back into the nearest person. Her back bomb arded someone elses. As soon as she could, she regained to balance and turned to say a quick apology. Before she could process who it was, they commented.

"Watch it!" he snapped with a glare.

It was Dib. Somewhere between middle school and highschool, he frew a spine and ditched his paranormal crussades all together. It might have had something to do with Zims dissapearance, but she didn't know. Now though, he wore, get this, GUY liner and had almost every inch of ear pierced, gaged and linked. His brows each had two piercings. He also sported two snake bites, a nose stud, a chin stud beneath his lip, a monroe, and god knows what else. He wore alot a rings and necklaces as well as bracelets. His glasses were thick-framed and boxed. His get up involved alot of straps and buckles, though she couldn't imagine why, wouldn't that make it harder for his little whores? He even wore the tigh pants under his tight-top loose trayne trench coat. Dib looked as tired as an owl during the day, and the glaring did not help. He was tall and very lanky, and looked like a total addict, but of course, he was.

Gretchen rolled here eyes and walked on. She only managed a few feet when she heard him add, "Dike."

She stopped and pivoted on her heels. "What was that?" she inquired.

Dib glanced at Portia, who had her fingers hooked in his pant-line. She was this months whore. Already he's been caught numorous times in the boys bathroom, broom closets, boiler room, under the bleachers, and in his home, rutting up some tramp. Rumas his it, that there's been at least seven girls in the last three months of school who's walked out of somewhere, quite pleased, Dib following not too far behind. Azalea had two abortions form him, Haden, one, and Portia, well she was carrying.

he turned back to Gretchen after pulling his hands out from Portians belly shirt and said, "You heard me." His friends snickered.

Gretchen let her bag slide down her arm to the floor next to her, "No, actually. Say it to my face you dick with legs." she replied with a raise of her brow.

Dib approached her quickly and stood right up to her. He practically had to look straight down at her to make eye contact. He stunk of the usual beer,weed and sex. " I'm surprised you know what one is." replied he coyly.

"Surprised you have one." she replied with a smirk.

"Like you don't." His posse oohed and a circle formed quickly.

"Tough words comming from a pube faced psoer."

"Like fuck I am! YOu're the poser, walking around like you got problems!"

"I do, smart ass!"

"Obviously."

"You greasy yetti-fucker! You just contradicted yourself!"

"Whoa, yetti-fucker? I haven't been anywheres near your gramma." he said with a laugh as he held up his palms defeansively.

That was it.

Gretchen pulled back a fist and before you could say, "exalted fecal chunks", her knuckles were grinding into his face. A gasp of astonishment escaped the spectators. Dib doubled over, cupping his cheek gingerly; blood trickled melifluously from between his knobby fingers.

"You butched up hick-shit!" he shouted, "The hell's your problem?! Freak!"

Gretchen shook out her hand, droplets of her own blood spattered. "Freak?" she laughed, "Don't go there! You were the outcast of outcast! Cluster-fuck!" she reminded. "Having to sit with your sister. You didn't have friends. Even your little sister beat you up!"

A ripple of laughter flowerd through the crowd. A buzz of satisfaction zipped through her veins.

"Shut up, skank!" Dib yelled as he stood. He took his handfrom his face revealing a long split along his zygoma.

"And you had to go and aggrivate the only out cast as low as you. what happened to him, huh Dib? Where's Zim?" she asked feighning interest.

It was never thought possible, but he grew paler, the blood on his face really stood out then.

"Fuck if I know!" he spat at last.

"OH yeah, you've been harassing him since elementary school, and when he up adn disapears, you have no idea!" It was working, he was beginning to panick.

"Shut up, bitch!" Portia whinnied. (not whined)

"Shut your cock-hole and open a book! You hooker!" Gretchen barked without taking her eyes from DIb.

"Fuck no! Don't tell my girl-"

"What? Advice?" she asked then turned to Portia. "What makes you think you're any better than the other walking pussies he fucked? Huh? Shit-inna-pit! He's knocked up two other girls like the horny dog he is! He's fuck'n another girl in the bathroom every lunch period, Portia! Ask Rhonda! She'd know all about that!" Gretchen pointed out.

Portia nearly gave birth then faced the dumbstruck Rhonda to quickly she almost gave herself whiplash. "You been hose'n down my man?!" She screeched.

"You're man?! You think he loves you 'cuz you gotta brat in your fat ass?"

"You're pregnant?!" Shaela yelped then looked over at Dib who looked like he'd been caught robbing the Churches bank account. (Not the resturant, you stooge)

Now a mob of wrestling skanks scuffed the floor. The blow caught Gretchen by surprise. she fell over, but not badly hurt. She' gotten worse from her race horses foaly.

She stood back up to face Dib who had his fists up still.. How like him to sucker punch somebody. Gretchen cracked her knuckles, which hurt like hell due to her fresh split, but she didn't show it. Dib watched her hands nervously.

"So you think that cus your dad's a filthy rich scientist and like you dress like the spawn of Merilynn Manson and Chris Angel, filling up every skank wh's as wide open as your litle cut there, " she pointed vaguely, "you can kick ass? Nuh-uh. No." she said. Suddenly her show came flying up at Dib which had been worked off during her distraction. He held up his hands to block it, as she expected, leaving his abdomin wide open. Gretchen lunged, driving her fists deep into his stomach, then pivoted to hammer his groin with her heel. (okay mom, okay. Thanks for the tai-kwon-do lessons...) Dib gasped and coughed, cluthing both targets. She turned just before he blew chunks all over the linolium. Dib pounded the floor. He was suffocating. Before he could gasp for breath from the blow, he'd thrown up, which tends to take the air you don't have from you. His buddies ruched to his side, being careful to avoid the steaming pile of puke, and began to pount on his back. Suddenly the voice of Mr. Sweether tore through the commotion like a sword through rice-paper. Gretchen grabbed ehr bag and high-tailed it out. she had to tackled her way through the crowd and the walls of hands wanting to hold her back and allow her to get caught by the fuzz. She managed to break through and bolted for teh nearest girls bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door and stashed out in a stall. In case some killder decided to drop by, almost every door had a lock on it.

Gretchen perched atop the plastic seat and brought her legs up to her chin. Tears flowed freely for the first time since her Grampy passed away.