Hey Guys! D-and-s86 and foreverFAX here! And Dave…and Myrtle Winifred…wow this is turning into a PAR-TAY!

Anywho. New Chapter. Enjoy. THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! You guys are awesome.

DISCLAIMER: The day Mickey Mouse loves Daffy Duck is the day we will own MR. So there.

Ten times around the rink is okay. But when you get to thirty? You get tired.

Fact o' life.

But on the bright side watching all the skaters on the floor was pretty awesome. I had no idea people could skate and dance at the same time.

Watching another lady spin around looking like a cool person (where as I was just trying not to fall on my butt) my eyes fell on Fang.

Holy moley, pudding and pie that guy could DANCE.

Have I mentioned that I dance? I haven't? Oh. Well now I have.

And I also tend to think that guys who dance are really, really hot. How convenient is that? He's hot and he dances… multi-tasking at it's finest.

Multi-tasking at it's finest.

Ten times around the rink is okay. But when you get to thirty? You get tired.

Fact of life.

"Hey, I'm gonna get a drink," I announced in a loud voice as I skated away.

And what do you know? A certain, tall, handsome young lad (ahem…Fang) was in line too, getting a bottle of water.

But seeing as I'm not that fancy shmancy…I had to go to the water fountain. Which had very warm water, might I add.

So newly refreshed (or as refreshed as I could get with warm water) I started skating back to the rink.

Then, as I skated by, I heard Dylan scream bloody murder from the rink. I immediately looked over and he smirked triumphantly.

"Made ya look." He said as he went back to skating.

"RETARD!" I yelled at him right as Fang past by.

He gave me a funny look. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Not you," I said in an annoyed tone. "That guy, in front of you, the one that should have a sign taped on his back saying "IDIOT".

Fang smiled knowingly. "Oh…so your boyfriend."

I coughed and started choking on my spit thinking of how horrid that would be.

"The day I date (cough, cough, gag) that miserable hunk of idiocy will be the day orange bananas sing Christmas carols (cough, cough, hack)."

He rolled his eyes. "Well that was creative. Ten points for sarcasm."

I stared at him. "You think I was being SARCASTIC?" I asked, flabbergasted. "That was NOT sarcasm. That was the total, honest to God truth!"

He grinned and my knees seriously went weak. "Whatever you say, Max. See ya."

Would it be bad to say that I had an overwhelming desire to yell "I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!"?

I think so. And all because he said my name.

I was in some deep doo-doo.

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