Recognition

A/N: More or less a sequel to Detention, as I've said, Detention is the first part of the Ironic series, this is the second. Enjoy please?

Disclaimer: I only own what I have created—Not Sky High or any of the actors participating in it.

Warnings: OCs, possible OoC-ness, language

I wouldn't wanna be recognized as the chick who made-out with the stretchy dude.

Too bad.

I am recognized as the chick who made-out with that goddamn smirk-faced stretch.

How the hell did that happen? I swear I didn't tell anyone, and no one goes to the white room (detention hall). If not me, then—

Then it's the freakin' stretch, isn't it?

What. The. Hell.

Expect that from every guy you kiss! I mean, it's just a kiss isn't it, it isn't supposed to mean anything! I only did that because I need to get my hard-earned (no, not really) money from that guy! And he just so happens to be a guy, and I'm a girl; simple, blame it on the hormones and all those chick-flicks I've seen.

C'mon Tracey, get that crap outta your system and focus. Focus, top-notcher, focus. . . "Don't let some rumor spread by some guy get to you. It's just a kiss; you did it because to needed to get your hard-earned money back." I tell myself that loads and loads of times.

But still, dammit, but still, all that crap they've been talking about won't stop.

I try to bribe them, nope.

I try to shut them up with an epic swirly-wedgie combo, still no.

I try to shut them up, again, with a tornado slap to the face, nothing.

I try to suck the life outta them, but nope, nothing, nada, zilch.

This was hard.

I mean, how could you not shut up those losers without all those kinds of abuse?

Honestly, I think with everything I do, they just get louder and louder. . .

Until I hear this;

"Show some pity girls, she's already been ignored by the love of her life, at least give her some sympathy." One.

"You're right, we should totally hook up sometime." Two.

"Yeah, you should really tell us how you did it, and what happened if you know what I mean." Three. . .

Alright, that was it, damn was I so annoyed, and these little preps think they can just shove their faces in my space! Huh, well I'll shove something in their faces.

"Oh my god! Ew!"

"Ewww! Gross!"

"Oh yuck! What is this?"

Ah yes, that perfect symphony of pain and disgust.

"That ladies, is something I would call dumpster diving." I brushed my shoulder off, half-thanking the school for those huge dumpsters on the side.

"How dare you do this to me? I'll tell on you!" With that scream, I started walking away, humming a tune to myself.

"Tell whatever you want, just make sure you've got a clean change of clothes ladies." I waved them off with a bright smile.

Just when I thought I wasn't gonna get caught,

"You there! Boltson! Tracey Boltson!" Crap, teacher. You didn't have to use the name you know. . . Uh, gotta run!

Rounding a corner,

"Stop there! I'm giving you detention!"

Past the canteen, still lunch time. . .

"Boltson! Boltson! Stop right there!"

Run, run; damn, were teachers really this persistent for discipline?

"Boltson!"

Ugh, fine, wouldn't want to waste energy anyway.

Hands-up, I slowly turned to the oppressor, "Alright, alright, I'm com—What the hell?"

"Boltson huh? Tracey, right?" Damn, I don't need you right now stretch.

"What of it? Gonna shout it to the whole school?" I was annoyed, as I sharply lowered my hands to my hips, eyebrow quirked.

"Nothing really," He walked closer, "Just curious, y'know? You didn't really tell me your name." He raised a hand, "Name's Lash." Cue smile.

Slap it away, walk past him, but no, I've got a bigger plan ahead. . .

"Oh, so we're friends now?" I laughed harshly, "Listen here, stretchy, you don't know what crap you've been giving me, okay? You don't know what they've been telling about me!"

"Oh, I think I do, it's about what happened, right? The little K?" He snickered; damn do I want to break his jaw right now. . .

"The little K? They've been talking that you're the love of my life!" I was infuriated, I wanted to strangle something, but I just settled for balling up my hands into fists.

"Aren't I?" Oh, did he sound persuasive, reasonable even; the little—

"Oh, yeah, yeah, you are! I mean I love you so much! So much I just wanna strangle you to death right here!" I forced a smile, voice obviously leaking sarcasm.

"Aw, baby; you're just too sweet, you're giving me a toothache," He pitied me, looked at me with puppy dog eyes, complete with pout.

"Don't worry; your toothache'll soon be gone." I smiled and stepped closer, "Once I get those teeth outta your mouth."

Charge, aim for the right jaw, miss, aim for left, miss, uppercut, miss—damn was I slow!

Guess I'll have to strangle the sorry outta him then.

Change PoV

Oh crap, was she good—G-O-O-D good, what chick in the world would go straight for the face? With fists and a face of pure, utter romance? Just kidding, a face full of hate, that's it. Yup, she was good, but as always, I'm better.

"Argh!" Right jaw, MISS.

Left jaw, MISS.

Uppercut to chin, MISS.

"Dammit!" Left hook, MISS.

"Slow down!" Elbow to cheek, MISS.

She stopped, panting. . . "Speed up darling, I ain't got all day." I smile at her.

She screamed a throat full of rage and tackled me to the floor, not that I was complaining—she's straddling my stomach and she's got her hands on my neck, I got mine on either side of my head.

She loves me alright.

Oh wait—she's trying to strangle me isn't she? Cute little attempt, too bad it won't work.

"Why. Aren't. You. DEAD YET?" Her eyes twitched in irritation.

Her hands squeezed tighter, "Look here sweetie, I stretch, and when you stretch you can revert back to your old shape. Like what you're doing, you're trying to strangle me, right? My neck and everything in it will just return to its original shape, get it?"

She stopped, as what I said happened, my neck was back to its original shape; bones, muscle, and all, "I get it, I need to suffocate you, not strangle you." A hand removed itself, but the other remained.

"Thank you for the info, now stay still while I try to imagine how to celebrate your funeral." A strange ball was forming on her raised hand, oh god, I think this chick's serious. . .

"You two! Over there!" Good timing 'teach.

"Public display of affection is strictly prohibited within school grounds!" Hah, he thinks that this is—wait, what?

She got up quickly, kicking my side in the process, "Listen, I wasn't, we weren't, he was—"

"No need for explanation, you two! Detention, right now!"

She sighed, grabbing me up by the collar, "C'mon lover-boy, we've got detention."

Oh, she's mad, no—she's pissed off.

Her eyes never falter, that low glare she's giving me's been since we got here.

"Listen, I really didn't—"

"Oh, trust me, you'll regret doing that."

"It wasn't really for blackmail or something, I was just—"

"Sad isn't it? But now look at what's happened."

"Yeah, the uhm, rumors. . ."

"What you think about 'em?"

"The what?"

"Rumors. Rumors you've spread, rumors that aren't anything true."

"I gotta agree with the people here," I placed my hands at the back of my head, "You love me, baby."

I heard her knuckles crack, "Aw, I love you too, baby." She strode over, "And 'till death do us part, okay?" She chuckled, hah cute; but there's something a little bit more sinister. . .

She leaned in, and I leaned back; good thing the chair wasn't a stool.

Guess what happened then?

I ain't gonna tell 'ya.

A/N: School has partially killed me, and with all these exams coming up. . . Read and review please? This still isn't the end! This is just part 2 of 3! :)