White Flag-Katrick, Rated T just in case.

Summary: Missing scenes between the dance and Kat's walk on the wild side.

Note: This is dedicated to nys1024. Thanks for sticking by me. Blackberries rule!

****

It all starts with Kat's chirpy sister waylaying me between classes. I have my head in a graphic novel and can barely follow her rapid-fire entreaty and find my attention ping-ponging between crusty exoskeletons and thoughts of Kat in a skimpy dress. So that's what spills out when I say yes, enjoying the way Kat's mouth opens at my suggestion (uttered with tongue firmly in cheek).

I am not used to innocent girls chatting me up…like ever. They give me a wide berth and the ones that remain want only one thing from me. If it's not a roll in the hay, it's a ride on my bike and a chance to tell everyone they did it (underscored and followed by a zillion exclamation points) with me.

Kat may not be that girl, jabbering away in her journal about impossible romance with caped invaders, but the rest of her fair sex are twittering away about me. I've been RT'ed and #ed by a wave of airheads, and my reputation as a ghoul grows by the day. It's not something I cultivate, believe me.

Nor is it helped by the Twilight dross that decorates every kiosk and newsstand. My Aunt Rachel sells this drivel by the truckload, and it keeps me in clean underwear and socks, but that doesn't mean I have to live the nightmare.

Go sparkle on someone else is one of my hand painted tees, along with a slash through Edward's face.

So how is that I find myself staring at my pale face in a mirror, forever plagued by the riot of curls that refuses to stay tamed? Lesser combs than my metal one have been lost forever in the black hole that surrounds my head. Water only tamps it down until the dry air springs it back into a relentless sea of sex hair.

I finally give it up and decide that the Johnny Cash look will have to do. I jump on my bike and wonder what Wally will do when I show up on his doorstep. From the flattering description offered up by Bianca, he and I will lock horns before I cross the threshold.

*****

Kat gets her vim and vigor from Daddy Dearest. Wind them both up and they'll spit all over you. The mere mention of my bike cranks Wally up to a nice respectable level, and it's all I can do to contain my laughter as I am hustled out of the house.

"Was that really necessary?" Kat asks as she slips behind the wheel.

"Naw, but it was fun."

I eye her throughout the short ride to Padua, amazed at how much difference a dress can make. And what a dress it is. It hugs her in all the right places, and her gorgeous form rises like a white swan from its top. Legs that go on forever complete her transformation, and she is a skein of raven splendor as she turns in my arms.

The punch is watered down Koolaid, and the cookies are day old specials from the local market. I can see that the planning committee went all out for Fall Fling. We roll our eyes in unison and find a good spot upstairs to mock our unwitting classmates.

We are both on a roll, and it's great fun when the snarky comments are directed at someone else. I find a way to bring up the kiss that shall not be named, and Kat brushes it away like a gnat. But it shimmers in the air between us, and I fully intend to try again at the beach.

Nature calls and I book time to take a leak, and that's when I come face to face with a cloud of pot smoke and the school's own tattle tale.

*****

I'm not a narc, I'm here on a date, now do you mind?

It's Sunday night, and I'm having a good wallow.

I took a chance on Kat Stratford and lost. You might say I gambled with my reputation, because they dragged me down that hall without a second thought. What did I expect after crossing paths with Keith and his perpetual mary jane haze?

I was barely in there two minutes before Tabitha Cook was there in my face, with that smug look I find so distasteful. How can she look at herself in the mirror every day? The light shines so brightly out of her ass that she blinds everyone in her path. People like her deserve every bad thing that happens to them and I can only hope a bus full of nuns will run her down. But until then, I am forced to deal with smarmy, mouth-breathing, bottom feeders.

My file will tell you I have a lousy attitude, and there's no hope for me. My guidance counselor encourages my work in auto shop and thinks I can work my way up to head mechanic someday…if I'm not rotting in a jail cell, that is.

That's where they sent my brother Leo, so why should they expect better from me?