A/N: And so, after a looooong interlude… I RETURN. And then promptly flop about for a few days instead of getting this update finished like I should've. I apologize. I was absent for quite some time due to reasons beyond my control, and as such have been unable to write chapters for my fics as I please. I'm sorry you all had to wait so long, and I hope that you, my readers, can forgive me and continue to enjoy this story.

Extra Note: SPOT THE HOUSE, M.D. REFERENCE! WIN A PRIZE!

Disclaimer: If I were to one day wake up to discover that I actually owned Death Note, I would explode in happiness. As I'm still in one piece, let it be assumed that such a joyous circumstance has yet to present itself. In other words: Nope, still don't own Death Note.

Chapter 3: Extracurricular Activities Part One

"Pay up." Matt demanded of Near with a toothy grin.

"I believe it is you who lost the bet." Near replied flatly. Matt blinked, staring.

"Uh… no. I bet that Mello would make five kids cry by the end of the day." The Gamer said slowly. "And obviously…" He let the sentence hang, the faint sound of sobbing still floating in the background.

"Obviously, he made seven children, one camp counselor, and one CIT burst into tears, respectively." Near listed. "You only bet on five." Matt's jaw dropped, and then he started laughing.

"Holy crap! Mello really has been a bad influence on you!" He snickered, nonetheless reaching into his pocket to produce the owed ten dollars. "You're turning into an evil genius, Near." Wordlessly, Near took his winnings.

"What makes you think that's my fault?" Mello piped up from where he was lounging on his bed, lazily holding a melting chocolate bar above his mouth and letting it drip in. "I've been telling you for years that he's nearly as diabolical as we are. He just doesn't display it as often."

"I choose my moments." Near informed them, climbing onto the bed and lying back against Mello's knees. "The less trouble you get into, the more credible you are."

"And the less fun you have." Matt finished, a few giggles still erupting now and again. He could appreciate finely crafted manipulation when he was the victim of it. That was part of the effect of being Mello's BFF.

"Shouldn't you be in your own cabin? It is curfew." Near observed.

"Shouldn't the other guys in your cabin be here?" Matt countered.

"Mello locked them in the equipment storage cabin. I had absolutely nothing to do with it." Near responded.

"Nice, plausible deniability." Matt snorted. Near shrugged. Mello licked a misplaced drop of chocolate off his cheek, then balled up the empty tin foil and tossed it through the air. It bounced off the wall and landed neatly with its fellows in the trash bin. The blonde proceeded to stretch, dislodging Near, and yawn magnificently.

"Well, it's been a productive day. I suppose we can afford to actually sleep tonight." He announced.

"Three hours later than we're supposed to." Near curled into a ball against Mello's side.

"Naturally." The blonde replied. Matt shrugged, snapping shut his DS, which had been flashing a Game Over screen for the past few minutes anyway, and flopping onto one of the vacant beds. He kicked off his boots and hung his goggles from a bedpost.

"Don't do anything traumatizing without warning me." He called. Mello just laughed and flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, plunging the room into darkness.

"OK CAMPERS! Are you ready for a day of F-U-N!!!!?" Ms. Shelley screeched from her podium.

"YESSSS!!" Came the responding cry from all campers save the orphan trio.

"Alrighty-roo!" She beamed. Actually, from now on, unless specifically stated otherwise, just assume Ms. Shelley is beaming at all times. "Before we can get started on our first activity, has anyone seen Camper Jerry, Camper Phil, or Camper Archie?" She asked. Many heads shook. Three faces suddenly morphed into the very picture of innocence. "I guess we'll just have to start without them then. They'll sure be sorry when they see what they miss, won't they!!!!?" The woman used more exclamation marks than a speed-addicted eight year old.

"YESSSSSSS!!" The crowd replied.

"OH-KAY!!!! So first off kids, we're going to start the day off with some Touch Football!!!!" She cheered.

Dead silence for several minutes. Athletic children were not pleased with this, because they would not be allowed to tackle the shit out of everyone. Non-athletic children were not pleased with this because they knew the athletic children would eventually ignore the rules and tackle the shit out of them. Near was putting all his considerable intelligence to the problem of How the Hell to Get Out of This. Unfortunately, the only plans he could think of required Ms. Shelley to be at least marginally intelligent. Matt was surreptitiously sneaking away to, if nothing else, stow his techie gear lest it be smashed in the soon to ensue violence.

Mello, contrarily, had the most accurate reproduction of the Cheshire Cat's devilish smile on his face that anyone ever had seen in the history of the known universe.

A red sun would be rising on the morrow.

"OK KIDS!!!!!" Ms. Shelley appeared to be oblivious to the fact that the pause she had allowed for a response had not been filled. "LET'S GET STARTED!" She pulled a yellow football with a smiley face on it from beneath the podium. "FIRST WE'LL PICK CAPTAINS! RAISE YOUR HAND IF-" Mello's hand had shot into the air with the speed and force of a freight train the second the word 'Raise' had been spoken. "OK, looks like Camper Mello is First Captain!" She surveyed the dozen other hands that had shot up slightly later in the sentence.

Ms. Shelley thought. It was a long, arduous process. "Camper Mindi! You can be Second Captain!" She decided, choosing the tallest of the girls that had raised their hands. One male and one female captain seemed fair. Gender equality and all that.

It was a mystery how Ms. Shelley had managed to learn and memorize every child's name within the first two days. Matt's theory was that the learning and memorization of names was something she literally used three quarters of her brain on. That or she was some kind of alien experiment gone horrifically cheerful. Either way, he thought that she might actually be worth hiring some day for maybe a torture or public relations division of the Gaming Company he planned to build.

The way was lead to a playing field devoid of goal posts or yard lines. In fact the only thing marking the end zones were cardboard signs nailed to two-by-fours reading 'You made it!' and featuring yet more bug-eyed smiley faces, stars, hearts, and handprints. Mello had a sneaking suspicion suddenly that all the signs in Camp Sunshine were both designed and made by Ms. Shelley herself.

"Alright Campers! Line up so that you can be chosen for teams!" Ms. Shelley instructed brightly. "Camper Mindi will be Captain of the Pink Hearts, and Camper Mello will be Captain of the-"

"I swear to God, woman, that if you say anything containing the words 'heart', 'smiley', 'purple', 'love', or 'kitten', I will dismember you right now and damn the consequences." Mello interrupted.

"Blue Stars!" Ms. Shelley finished, her selective hearing apparently kicking into action once more.

"…Alright, I can accept that." Mello conceded grudgingly. Another Camp Counselor, (not the one whose ear Mello had stapled to a table, that man had actually been sent home to heal and perhaps see a therapist if the insurance company decided he was covered) approached carrying a plastic tub full of blue and red jerseys and leading the very dazed-looking Jerry, Phil, and Archie.

"I found these three locked in the Equipment Storage Cabin." The Counselor, whose nametag read 'Peppy Perry!' explained. He didn't look particularly peppy. Quite the opposite.

"There you are, Campers!" Ms. Shelley exclaimed. "Lucky you!!! You're just in time!!!"

"They say they were locked in all night." Perry continued, apparently accustomed to his boss'… um… uniqueness.

"Y-yeah!" Jerry was the first to snap back to life. "By that guy!" He pointed straight at Mello.

"Camper Mello, what do you have to say for yourself?" 'Peppy' Perry asked. Mello shrugged.

"Builds character." The blonde said flatly. "Besides, they aren't hurt, are they?" Perry suddenly recognized Mello from the 'Incident with the Stapler.'

"…Fair enough." The man dropped the tub on the ground and walked off with the quick but controlled steps of a person well aware that there are dangerous, unstable people behind him who could possibly be set off by sudden movements.

"OK, are we all ready then!?" Ms. Shelley called.

"YES!" The children replied, surprised into an auto-pilot answer.

"Let's get started then!!! If you are chosen by Captain Mello, take a blue jersey from the tub and stand behind your captain. If you are chosen by Captain Mindi, take a pink jersey!!! Understaaaaand!!!?" Ms. Shelley questioned. One camper raised her hand. "Yes, Camper Susan?"

"Um, those are red… not pink…" Susan, a shy girl bearing a remarkable resemblance to a Strawberry Shortcake doll pointed out. And clearly, she would know. The girl was wearing enough pink to feminize an entire Sports Bar. She was a Pink Professional. An expert consultant on the subject of Pink.

"Ohhh, you're right." Ms. Shelley, for the very first time in a long time, looked distressed. How she managed to look distressed while still flashing a thousand megawatt smile has yet to be determined by humankind. Mello slapped a hand to his forehead. His sentiments were shared by nearly every possessor of significant testosterone levels on the field. "I know!" Ms. Shelley shouted a few tense moments later, her distress vanished. "Let's just use our IMAGINATIONS!!!!!!!!"

"…I think I'm gonna be sick…" Mello stated.

"OK Captains! Play rock, paper, water to see who gets to pick first!" Ms. Shelley continued as though the moment had never happened.

"Uh… don't you mean rock, paper, scissors?" Matt asked. Ms. Shelley shook her head emphatically.

"Oh no! Scissors are dangerous!" She explained.

"…I'm not doing this. She can go first." Mello declared.

"Why Camper Mello! That's very kind of you!"

"Mention it again and I'll put something unpleasant in your coffee tomorrow morning." Mello promised darkly. Evidently it was a day for firsts because, for just a moment, Ms. Shelley's perpetual broad grin wavered.

There are some subjects that are off-limits to attack for even the dullest, thickest, most smiley-face oriented Camp Counselor brains. Coffee was one of them.

The seed of fear had been planted.

"I give her a week, tops." Matt whispered into Near's ear, the albino was inclined to agree with him. Mello could smell a weakness better than your average bloodhound.

"Lizzie!" Mindi called, a girl with tight curls and badly applied lipstick who smelled strongly of cherry body spray squealed, snatched a red jersey, and scurried behind Mindi.

"Near!" Mello bellowed. Near shuffled forward to take a blue jersey and stand behind Mello, twirling a lock of soft white hair.

"DUDE!" Matt protested loudly. "What the hell happened to 'Bros before Ho's!?'"

"Shut up, man! You know Near's gonna get pummeled if he's not on my team!" Mello hollered back. Matt paused.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's true…" He grumbled.

"Thank you both for that overwhelming show of confidence." Near drawled. Mello and Matt rolled their eyes.

"Meredith!" Mindi shouted next, apparently dead-set on having as many of her own gender on her team as possible.

"Matt!" Mello called predictably.

"Cara!"

"…You with the stick people on your shirt!"

"Lindsey!"

"Headband guy!" "It's a sweatband!" "Whatever!"

"Justine!"

"People actually name their daughters that?" "Mello…" "Oh, right. You in the polka dots! …Dude what is up with that, anyway?"

"Lauren!"

"Chick with the seashell necklace!"

And on it went. Mindi, like most of the children, had apparently been attending Camp Sunshine for a few years now, and so was well acquainted with the majority of the other children. Mello, who didn't care that much about actually getting to know others even when he had spent more than two days in the same place with them, was not. Hence the contrast in player-choosing vocalizations.

When the teams were established, they quickly formed into defensive huddles. Although Mindi's looked less like a huddle and more like a preppy clique gossiping in a middle-school cafeteria without tables or chairs. Or walls. Or a ceiling. You get the idea.

"Alright." Mello said. "Here's how we're going to thrash them-"

"Um… but…" The guy in polka dots interrupted.

"What." Mello hissed. Polka Dots was briefly struck dumb.

"…I… it's just, most of them are girls." He pointed out. "Shouldn't we like… go easy on them?" This earned him a glare from the few females on Mello's team.

"All's fair in love and war." Mello replied. Polka Dots looked confused.

"But this isn't either of tho-" He never stood a chance.

"Like Hell it isn't!" Mello erupted. "This is War!" The huddle wavered as everyone in it except Matt and Near took a step back. Matt rolled his eyes. Near sighed resignedly.

Roughly twelve minutes of explaining a complex game plan to nearly thirteen bewildered, slightly spooked, children of less than half the intelligence of any of the Wammy Kids, and the game was ready to begin. Finally.

The two teams stood facing one another. If ever an Epic Showdown were to take place on such a lame field, this was it. The mood was slightly ruined by the fact that Mindi kept breaking the staredown Mello was attempting to initiate in order to make sure that her nail polish wasn't chipped and that her ponytail was tight enough.

"Hey!" Matt called, abruptly gaining the attention of the other team. He used a smirk he'd learned from Mello and practiced for years on perfecting.

"Y'all ready for this?" He asked, pulling his goggles down over his eyes. Matt was a goofy, easygoing, good-humored guy. But you didn't get to be best friends with Mello for over ten years without some of that Intimidation rubbing off on you. And, nerdy semi-cheesy pop culture references aside, Matt was looking pretty badass at the moment.

The play began. The 'Pink Hearts' had the ball.

Lindsey was facedown in the dirt and relieved of said ball by Amber (aka 'Chick with the seashell necklace') about two seconds into the play. Mello had prepared his team well.

Ms. Shelley blew into a whistle just barely within the human spectrum for hearing with the windpower of a thirteen-year-old tuba player. Translation: It was loud. Painfully loud. And shriller than nails on a chalkboard.

"Noooo tackling! This is Touch Football!" She explained good-naturedly.

"Sorry. Tripped." Amber grinned innocently.

Lindsey was livid, "Like hell you did you cutthroat bi-"

"Oh, well that's alright then! Keep going, and beeee careful!" Ms. Shelley trilled and bounced back to the sidelines.

Needless to say, that was not the last 'accident' of the day.

By the end of the game, which Mello's team had completely and utterly dominated, no contest, three of the opposing team were crying, two had bloody noses, one had bruised knuckles, all had bruises, one had a twisted ankle, three were covered in dirt and grass stains, and over forty-two nails had been cracked or broken.

It was a new record.

For Mello's team, the grass-stains were almost as numerous, and half the members had accumulated at least three 'naughty-points', but otherwise the injuries were minimal at worst.

And so it was that the campers, many dejected, many victorious, and one extremely exasperated (no prizes for guessing which. –coughNearcough-) left the playing field for the lunch room.

The Lesson here? Never make a preppy girl and a competitive maniacal genius captains of opposing Touch Football teams.

TBC…

A/N: Speaking as a girl who has wreaked terror and havoc upon many a 'Touch' Football game… I hope that was as much fun for you to read as it was for me to write.

Stay tuned for the next chapter, a Lunchtime to Be Remembered! Coming soon! (No, seriously this time.)