Next chapter! I really like this story, I'm sure plenty of people can relate. I'm going to keep working on it, but I'm taking a weekend vacation. Here's a chapter to (hopefully) last you until the next one. It's a really fun chappie ^o^

"If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along so why can't you see
You belong with me
You belong with me."

That afternoon, Dolly was fidgeting anxiously at her locker. Woody had said earlier that he'd meet her there at 2:30 precisely. It was 2:37, and Dolly was beginning to think that he had ditched her. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she kept it together. As she was about to leave, she heard a skidding noise behind her. Turning on her foot, she smiled when she saw Woody sprinting towards her.

"Hey," Dolly said. Woody's face was flushed, but he did his best to keep a cocky grin on it.

"Hey, sorry. Couldn't shake Bo. She wanted to know why I would be at football practice late, and I told her about this, and some stuff went down, and...yeah." Woody trailed off, running a hand through his fluffy brown hair. Dolly maintained her cheerful demeanor, even though her insides were bursting with loathing for Bo.

"Well, let's go," she sputtered, taking Woody's hand and pulling him through the hallway. Woody couldn't conceal the happiness he felt. His mood was relaxing since he wasn't around people that pressured him all day. Dolly would never choose to do that. They arrived at the art room. Woody had only been there once, since he had never taken an art class and had only visited it briefly during his freshman orientation. Now, he took the time to suck in all the grandeur that the room truly was. He couldn't believe that he hadn't paid more attention to this place earlier. The bricks of the walls were covered with names and drawing of students, none of it disrespectful. Mobiles and ribbons hung from the ceiling, and paint nearly covered the five long desks. But what struck his attention the most was the back wall, really a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto the small pond on the other side of Pixar High. The day was clear, as the clouds floated slowly across the sky. The pond was reflecting sunlight back at them, as two girls dipped their bare feet into the water off of the pier. A small boy skipped stones.

"Wow," Woody breathed. Dolly sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and nodded appreciatively.

"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked.

"Wonderful," he whispered, lost in the sight. Other students were dropping their backpacks under the tables, pulling out pastels and paper, or going into the side closet to pick up old canvases. Others began covering the tables with newspaper. Their supervisor, the art teacher, walked in, and the students gave her a friendly smile and hello.

"Good afternoon, Miss Robinson," Dolly said as the teacher passed. Her long black hair was tied up in a ponytail, with paintbrushes sticking out of the end. Blue eyes sparkled with a mischief Woody recognized as his own.

"Good afternoon, Dolly. I see you've brought a friend," Miss Robinson said. She shook Woody's hand. "I don't believe we've met. In here or in class or in the hallways, even."

"Woody, ma'am. Woody Pride," Woody tumbled over his words. Miss Robinson laughed.

"None of that "ma'am" stuff here, partner. Just settle down, pull out some paint and a canvas, and let your mind free," Miss Robinson told him, turning away to talk to some of the other teenagers.

Woody stood still for a moment, before asking Dolly, "So, what should we do?" Dolly put her finger on her chin, feigning concentration.

"I know!" she cried. "Let's splatter paint."

"What?" Woody inquired, but his question wasn't answered as Dolly pulled him along again to a free table.

"Wait here," she said before sprinting away to the side closet. Woody had to laugh at the spirit his best friend had. Dolly came back with her hands full of a large white canvas, acrylic paint, and two paintbrushes. Woody stopped her so he could take some of the supplies to his table. He dumped them onto the surface.

"Now we...?"

Dolly picked up a paintbrush, poured out some purple paint onto the newspaper already on the table, and dipped her brush in the paint. Quick and whiplike, she flicked the paintbrush fast and a streak of purple appeared on the canvas. She continued this for a few minutes, and Woody thought that he would never tire of watching her paint, or write, since whenever she did those two activities, she was so focused, so relaxed, as her purple locks swung around her face...

"So you know how to do it?" Dolly placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head at Woody. Woody, having been completely distracted at Dolly technique, lied, of course.

"Um, yeah! Totally! I was just uh, wondering, can I try it now?" he asked awkwardly. Dolly nodded, and held out the other paintbrush. Woody dipped it in some yellow paint, and tried flicking it like Dolly had. A big splurge of yellow appeared, nearly drowning out all of Dolly's purple streaks.

"Oh-uh, let me try again," Woody mumbled. He whipped his brush around, and ended up hitting Dolly in the nose with some yellow paint. His eyes widened, as Dolly's mouth opened, and she reached up to touch her nose. "Dolly, oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" His words were cut off as he got orange paint flicked at him. It landed in his hair and on his cheek. Dolly began to giggle, sticking her brush back into the purple paint.

"Oh it's on, little lady," Woody said, accepting her unspoken challenge. Woody grabbed his brush, and the two threw paint at each other, more of it landing on their clothes and faces rather than their canvas. Dolly laughed as some of it hit Woody's nose, which she always said was too pointy for his own good. (She was kidding, of course, since she thought his nose was cute.) Woody laughed as some of his paint hit Dolly's hair, which he always said clashed with everything. (He was kidding, of course, since he would never purposely insult his best friend.)

When they had nearly run out of paint, they stopped, gasping with laughter and cooling off from the heat of their paint fight.

"Dolly, you were right," Woody croaked. Dolly took a deep breath.

"How?"

"This did make me feel better." The two shared a smile as their eyes locked, and Dolly felt her cheeks heating up.

"Woody!" They looked up as Buzz, followed by Slink, entered the art room. They didn't seem to notice the chaos of art students around them, the paint flying, the chatter, or the music that Miss Robinson had turned on sometime during their painting.

"Coach is looking for you," Buzz continued. "Hey Dolly," he added.

"Hey Buzz," she replied shyly, suddenly becoming conscious of how bad she must look, covered in paint.

"I'll be there in a sec. Dolly, thanks for bringing me here," Woody said, wrapping her in a quick hug. "I owe you one!" He left the room with his teammates. Slink turned around at the door, and gave Dolly a slight wave. Dolly did the same.

After the club ended, Dolly picked up her things and waited for Buttercup to pick her up, as he often did when she stayed after school. She sat on the curb, watching the football players run drills and the cheerleaders practicing not far off. She spotted Woody's number. Seven. He was doing Burpees with four other teammates. Dolly stared up at the sky, wishing that she could be flexible and pretty, so she could be on the cheerleading squad, or athletic and spunky, so she could be on a girls sporting team. As she was contemplating her thoughts, Buttercup's van pulled up to the curb.

"Hey Dollface, you okay? You seem a little down," Buttercup said from his position in the driver's seat. Dolly climbed into the passenger seat.

"Nothing you can do, Buttercup," she muttered. She gazed out the window, watching the landscape pass by. The sound of tires screeching brought her out of her fantasies. Her eyes snapped to the road in front of her, where a driver had just tried to cut across Buttercup. The car had knocked the front bumper of their van, and Buttercup was losing control.

"BUTTERCUP!" Dolly screamed. The Volkswagen spun into the car that had hit them, and rolled over to its side.

Oh boy, a cliffhanger. Don't hate me, please!
The car accident was actually just a random idea I had...just now.
please review!
~mac