Author's Note: I'm in great shape here, about to put the disclaimer instead of a note. Oh, well...I'm stressed out...but thanks to my reviewers and fans.

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP...but wouldn't it be grant if I did?

Chapter Eleven: What's Needed Isn't Always What's Wanted

Timmy found her in his driveway. If it weren't for the fact he was already so despondent after lying to Trixie after she'd spilled her guts to him, he'd laugh. Then again, what was so funny about someone in love with him, lying in the driveway?

"Tootie?" He called, helping her to her feet. She, stumbling, clung to him and there was a brief moment where they remained in each other's arms before, embarrassed, he backed away. Damn him...

What was I was going to say? Every time I look at him, I lose my train of thought. All I can think of is smothering him in affection and...why does he look so miserable? He's got the girl of his dreams and I'm going to leave him alone, I think...

That's all he ever wanted- Trixie and me to do what Vicky says I should, just disappear. I know I'm of no use to anyone, not even myself. I'm just trying to make him happy and if it makes him happy to vanish, then that's what I'll do. He's the only thing in my life that I would die for.

"I know you're with Trixie now and..." She fumbled for the words, all of which sounded so much better in her head than in real life. Here, they came out flat and unemotional, contrary to the storm inside her heart right now. She couldn't give up on Timmy...but she had to. If she didn't, Trixie would dump him and he'd be miserable, thanks to her.

But then again, there was the kiss. Had he only done it to appease her and stop her midway? Did he do it because he enjoyed doing it? Was she reading more into it than was there? Dare she get her hopes up?

Dare she look in his eyes and see affection for her shining through? Dare she relinquish her hold on him to make him happy? It wasn't about what she wanted more than life itself, it was about what he wanted. She understood that now.

So, instead of coming here and saying what she'd intended, she'd tell him everything he must hear from her. No matter how hard it was for her...she'd toss in the towel for him. That had to be why he was so dejected- he knew she was coming somehow. She was never able to create any sense of jubilation for him. Instead, she acted as a leech.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" Timmy asked, bewildered. Every few seconds, she'd break into thought and her face would contort. Whatever ran through her mind, it had to be painful for to digest. Personally, he couldn't think of a reason why she'd collapse in his driveway if not to talk to him. Unless, of course, she had an affinity with the pavement...

"Are you happy?" Tootie blurted, deviating completely from her planned speech. "Because if you are..."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Folding his arms, he regarded her. For the first time since he could remember, she wasn't throwing herself at him. In fact, she looked so meek, she was frightening him.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, she finally expelled that which she knew had to ensure his contentment. However, for certain she could not look him in the eye when she said it, lest she lost it entirely. He'd hear it, but she had to maintain her composure. She had to tell him...

"If you're happy with Trixie, then...then I'll just go away, okay? You won't hear from me anymore and I'll stop stalking you and...and I'll drop off the end of the earth!" Biting her lip so hard she drew blood, she cast one last wretched glance at him before she ran off, back to the hell that was her house. She'd done her deed and now, Timmy could finally be rid of her.

Tears blurring her vision, she barely saw her way home, but she scarcely reached it before Timmy, darting after her, caught her around the waist. She shook him off, misinterpreting his gestures. Right now, the last thing she longed for right now was his sympathy.

"Leave me alone, damn it!" Tootie shrieked, forgetting that, while those words might be in her vocabulary, they weren't in his. His parents actually cared what he said, whereas her parents didn't care about anything concerning her. If they did, they would send Vicky far, far away.

Panting, she reached her house before he did and slammed the door in his face. Unfortunately, while this did give her the satisfaction of saying 'no' to him, it also yielded an awakening of the beast, a.k.a. Vicky. Grr...why did she have to be such a light sleeper?

"Brat!" Vicky thundered, cascading down the stairs. In her hands was the Timmy doll, which she brandished and flexed. Breaky breaky.

Trembling with suppressed rage, she sent her a reproachful glare. If Vicky thought she was going to screw around with her, she had another thing coming because she was in no mood for her bitchy older sister's tricks. Hmph, if she wasn't careful, she'd get a taste of her own medicine.

"Destroy that. In fact, send Doidle in to get rid of the pictures and other things I put on my computer and hidden in my closet. I give you express permission to destroy everything with Timmy's face on it." If that doesn't startle her, nothing will. She's not accustomed to getting her way so easily when it comes to Timmy...maybe this'll teach her to leave me alone.

Just as she'd anticipated, Vicky stood there, mouth agape. No words would come to her, nothing at all. All she could do was gape at her like an idiot. Good...it was about time she acted her I.Q. Despite her power to push people away, she wasn't the only person in charge of her emotions. If Tootie so chose, she could bring misery upon herself.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." Flinging her jacket back on the rack, she shoved her way past her and stormed up the stairs. For once, Vicky had nothing to say. Silence was golden.

As soon as she reached her room, she locked the door and slammed it hard. At long last, she could collapse on her bed and remember the past...the almost blissful past. The one where she didn't give up on Timmy...

-----

(Five years ago, at a poor planned dance)

He looks so handsome...even though he's only five and therefore, unaccustomed to wearing a small, pink tuxedo with a little white rose pined to the lapel. His hair is parted to the sides, but he won't stop fidgeting. Elementary school dances are a horrible idea, Geraldine Waxelplax knows this, but she has hopes. Terribly high and doomed to be dashed hopes, but hopes nonetheless.

Her hair tumbles down her front, braided in French braids. However, her dress is terribly plain, a hand me down from Vicky that was spat upon, drenched in god knows what, and then run over by a bike. She wouldn't let her parents clean it, either, so there it remains, fortunately scentless. If it reeked as much as her appearance does, she'd cry.

Already, his eyes follow Trixie, the belle of the ball, around the room. Of course, she's the belle, her father made sure of that. Her stinking rich father, with all this money to make sure Trixie was the snottiest piece of work in all of the kindergarten. God, she hates her.

Why wouldn't she hate her? She's got Timmy's heart on her sleeve, but he's just an empty bus seat to her. What she wants to know is- if she's so rich, why does she take the bus like a normal person? Shouldn't she be chauffeured?

And if she's so rich, why does she wear the same darn outfit every day? You'd think she'd have at least one change of clothes. Or were all her clothes the same? Did she open her closet and find identical garments?

Conversely, the dress she wears right now would be more suited for a prom queen than a five year old. It's a satin pink number, off shoulder. It comes to about her knees and then billows out, like an old ballroom gown. As beautiful as it is, she hates it with a passion. Why? Because it makes the boys drool.

Every time she approaches him, he runs off, trying his best to get Trixie to notice him and bless him with a dance. Doesn't he understand? She'd gladly dance with him, he had only say the word and she'd be in his arms.

None of the boys give her a second glance, their eyes are all glued to Trixie. Veronica, scowling, trails her, keeping the boys at bay. Like Tootie, they give her the cold shoulder. Even if she's pretty, she's not as pretty as Trixie. Therefore, she's worthless.

"Timmy!" Tootie cries desperately, seizing his sleeve. He shrugs her off, hypnotized by Trixie. The more she sees that girl, the more she wants to obliterate her from the face of the earth. Maybe more than Vicky, she despises her.

Poor Mrs. Waxelplax darts up and down the hardwood floor of the gym, trying to force boys and girls to dance together. If they won't do that until high school and even then it's sexual, why would they do it in elementary school, with the cootie shot? The mere touch makes them run screaming.

Downcast, Tootie settles down in a chair in the corner of the room and watches Timmy get rejected repeatedly. If he isn't chary, he'll run astray of Trixie's bodyguard. Maybe she ought to help him out...

"Timmy!" She screams again, yanking him away from Trixie just as her bodyguard produces the chart and gets ready to throw him out. But does he thank her? Of course not, that wouldn't be the Turner way. Instead, he glares at her as though it's her fault.

"What the heck do you think you're doin'?!" Abandoning her yet again, he ventures off in search of his friends, leaving her alone again. Some of the crueler girls, girls who will later join Trixie's inner ring of hell, er, her clique, snigger appreciatively and snap things that make her ears burn. They all hate her.

Like a moth to the flame, she continues to trail him, hoping he'll notice her. He does, but not in a positive manner. Every few seconds, it's another insult, or, once or twice, he throws his punch in her face. She whimpers, but follows him all the same.

Finally, he relents. She shivers, freezing from the ice punch. Maybe now he'll ask her to dance? Maybe there's hope?

No, of course not. He merely shakes his head and indicates, in no uncertain terms, how little he enjoys her company. Were he older, it would be so obscene, Nickelodeon executives would faint.

Bursting into noisy tears (with the hopes that someone will notice), she weeps unabashed. The principal, occupied with keeping a fight from breaking out over Miss Tang, fails to, and the object of her affections is beyond her. Once again, no one cares...

"Timmy...please like me..." Tootie whimpers, watching him avoid Trixie yet chase after her at the same time. He bumps into Tootie and then tries to escape her. No, she's been rejected enough, she can't take anymore.

Snatching his hand, she forces him to dance with her. They fight meanwhile, and Timmy manages to squirm out of her grip, hurting her in the process. What does he care? He can go chase after Trixie to his heart's delight now.

Sniffling, she feels her sore hand, covered in bruises. When Timmy fought her, he didn't break the skin, but it hurt worse than if he had. Already, her skin turns orange and brown. Darn him...

Dejected, she continues to trail him, but her heart isn't in it any more. A person can only take so much rejection before they lose face...and she stopped having fun a long time ago. The only reason she's doing this now is because she needs to do something to try to keep him by her. If she hangs around him, he won't stand a chance around Trixie.

"Knock it off!" Timmy finally snaps, propelling her backwards, into Veronica. Briefly, they exchange a glance before Veronica decides to shove her away. No sympathy...

For the rest of the evening, he proceeds to ignore her or shove her into people/things. She's bawling like a baby, but no one pays her any mind. Instead, they mock her derisively.

Finally, as the night is through, she makes one final plea for his attention. Practically flinging herself at his feet, she begs and pleads for a dance. He doesn't even have to touch her.

"If I can't dance with Trixie, why would I settle for you?" Timmy snaps, turning his back on her.

"But I love you!" Tootie cries, despondent. Snickers accompany her remark and her heart plummets into her stomach. Why will no one take her seriously?

------

But I love you...and if you love something, you must let it go...but I can't...I'm sorry, Timmy. I must take back what I said...because I know you're not happy and I need to try to be happy too...

Sighing heavily, her eyes shot towards the telescope, angled towards Timmy's window. He banged his head against something repeatedly, but she couldn't tell what it was.

I'm sorry, Timmy...but I have to do this...

Fingers trembling, she reached for the phone and for a number Timmy had accidentally left over there.

"Hello, Trixie."