Even though I had accepted Remy's date, I spent the next twenty three hours trying to think of a way out of it. But that's just because I'm me. First off, it's just typical of me for being so out of my mind to accept and then I was out of my mind to think that I could get out of it.

But I tried anyway. You know why?

Because I'm an idiot of course.

I wonder if I've always been an idiot and it's just now shining through, or if someone slipped some stupid pills in my food when I wasn't looking. Either one could be possible, of course. But I was willing to bet on the former because the idiocy seems to be deeply buried in my brain somewhere.

Yep.

My plan was to track Remy down and say never mind. Though I kind of disliked myself for this idea, I went ahead to find him anyway. Don't ask why I disliked myself for this. I don't know. But for some odd reason or the other, I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought.

But when I went in search for him, that sneaky buffoon was no where to be found. He had obviously hidden himself somewhere so that I couldn't tell him nevermind. That…monkey butt! He must know me better than I thought he did.

I looked all over the house and grounds for him, and couldn't find him anywhere. I even went into his room but couldn't find him there, either.

Really though, I should stay home and help with the sick people. Wouldn't it be wrong for me to be going out on a date when my friends are so miserable? Both Kurt and Bobby had to come home from school earlier this morning when they also got sick.

It's unnecessary to tell you that Mr. McCoy and Scott had gone crazy with the cleaning again. Of course, they had to go out and buy more cleaning supplies since our stash had been used for useless reasons the day before. They even went so far as to buy these face masks like the dentist uses and wear them while they were caring for Bobby and Kitty and Kurt.

That was weird.

I had mentioned to the Professor that maybe I shouldn't go out, (I didn't tell him who it was with) hoping that he would maybe ask me to stay and help out. But all he had said was a bunch of crap about how I'm young and they have it all under control and then to have fun.

I swear I think Remy has recruited him to the dark side.

That's right, the dark side. I bet Remy and Darth Vader are great friends. I can really see this happening. I bet Darth would be on the other side of the bet—betting against me that is. Though I doubt that he would really fit in at the mansion with all the anger issues and whatnot.

I promise I haven't been smoking anything.

I've just given up on my search for Remy and am walking back to my room when Amara slings her door open just as I pass it.

"Hey, Rogue!"

I turn back to her. "Hi Amara."

"Remy wanted me to tell you-"

"Wait, you've seen Remy?" I ask while wondering how he had snuck past me so well.

She nods and starts trying to pull me into her room. "Yeah, but he's gone now. He wanted me to tell you dress up tonight."

I feel myself paling. "Dress up?" I ask weakly. I don't want to dress up. I don't like dressing up. And on top of all that, I really don't have anything all that dressy to dress up in.

Wow, I said dress a lot of times…I'm nervous and yet my mind still finds it necessary to be random. I'm guessing that Amara must know that I don't have anything to wear—hence the fact that she pulling me into her room.

I allow her to pull me in and shut the door closed behind me.

Apparently, judging by the mountain of clothes piled on Amara's bed, she's already been searching for something for me. I start to bristle at the thought that she wants to dress me up-but then I realize that it could be so much worse. It could be Kitty.

This thought makes me not mind so much.

"What's this?" I ask her, nervous anyway.

"I know you don't have anything fancy so I started going through my clothes," she says quickly, "But what I want to know is what's going on with you and Remy? I thought you said you didn't like him."

I shrug because I'm still trying to figure out how I had gotten myself into this one. I'm thinkin later I'll just tell people that I was stoned. Or possessed. Or I could say that I had amnesia. Or that Remy had somehow forced me into the whole thing.

Instead of saying any of those wonderful ideas, I change the subject. "What do you got?" I motion towards the clothes.

Amara skips over happily to them and pulls up a white tank top and emerald green skirt.

I raise an eyebrow at this. "That's a little too much skin."

"Well yeah, that's why you'd pair it with this fabulous matching sweater!" Amara pulls out the sweater and waves the outfit around dramatically.

Actually, (according to Kitty) that was a cardigan, not a sweater. But I don't say things like cardigan, and I wouldn't call it a cardigan if I wore it. And if I did wear it, I certainly wouldn't tell people that it was a cardigan. And now I'm sick of saying cardigan.

I shrug. "Ok. That's fine."

She pouts at me. "But—don't you want to see the other outfits?"

"No, this one's just dandy," I take the clothes from her before she can change her mind. "Thanks."

"But we have to pick some shoes now!" She says happily while going for the closet.

"No," I wave at hand at her, "I'll just wear my Converse."

She stops and stares at me in horror. "NO! You can't wear tennis shoes with that outfit!"

We argue on like this for quite a while. I fight her to the death of course when she pulls out a pair of three inch high heels. I would fall flat on my face in those, as I tell her. Of course she replies that if I fall, Remy could catch me and be my knight in shining armor. After I rudely tell her that was a big load of you know what, we argue for a few more minutes.

Finally she agrees to let me wear my shoes if she could fix my hair. I say fine. I did not know that this means sitting for fifteen minutes in front of the mirror while we fight about what to do with my hair. I just want to leave it the way it is, she wants to go all out with the curling iron and hairspray. She doesn't understand why I stare at her in horror when she brings out a little tiara or why I flat out refuse to even go near it.

"Rogue, you're not being a very good doll," she complains loudly.

I stare at her. "WHAT?"

She quickly shakes her head. "Nothing."

Then she tries to sit on me and put makeup on my face. This does not go so well either. We struggle for a few minutes and very nearly come into skin contact before I finally just up and run from the room, carrying the clothes with me.

I run next door into my room while she hollers something after me about jewelry.

Now you know why I don't like to dress up.

That whole experience was plain out scarring.

…

Remy arrives right at six, just like he promised. I feel very awkward in my getup—not because it isn't comfortable, but because I haven't worn anything this dressy in a while. I actually like the skirt. It's light-weight and green and reaches just below my knees. But even so, I think I look stupid. Maybe I should let Amara give me some different shoes, but I don't want to go back into the danger zone.

"Bonjour, mon chére beau," he says as I open the door.

I guess he thinks I know French. I took Spanish in high school, so I only know every other word he says most of the time. But it sounds nice anyway.

He looks me up and down as I shuffle miserably out into the hall. "Rogue, you look…well there ain't any words to describe it. I guess the closest thing would be stunning."

"Yeah, whatever," I say, trying to make this date go as fast as humanly possible. "Uh—I mean thanks. You ready?"

Remy nods and glances down at my feet. "Hey, I like your shoes." And he actually sounds genuine about that.

Good grief, he better not be trying to be nice again. Or make me have fun. The last date had been an evening of complete torturous fun and laughs the whole time. Pure torture it was. He better not plan on riding the motorcycle again, not while I'm in this skirt. Though knowing him, he'd try it.

But when I look him over, by the way he's dressed I doubt we'll be riding his bike. He looks creepy. Ok, actually he looks nice, but it is creepy to see him dressed up.

Now if I were Kitty, I would go on for an hour telling you about what Remy is wearing. I would tell you all about it down to the last thread in his socks. Then I would tell you the pros and cons and weigh them out. But I'm not Kitty (thank God) so this is what Remy is wearing: a white dress shirt and khakis.

Somewhere Kitty's head is exploding.

"Then let's hit the ol' dusty trail," I say while motioning towards the stairs.

He gives me a strange look before we finally start towards the garage. The whole time we're walking down there he keeps trying to put his arm around me and I keep smackin it away only to have him try again two seconds later. Then when he tries to take my hand I deliver a kick to his shin.

I'll skip the story about where he had to lean against the wall for a few minutes.

"You're a pistol Rogue," he says as he holds the car door open for me, "but I like it."

I'm the pistol? He's the freaking pistol! He's a big, giant, Cajun pistol if you ask me.

The ride to where ever we're going is…well, actually it's normal for us.

"So, how was your day?" He asks.

I shrug. "Fine."

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"How was your lunch?"

"Fine."

"Will you say something other than fine?"

"No."

"HA!" He actually takes a hand off of the wheel to point a finger at me.

I stare at him. "How was your day?" I ask, though I really don't care. Much. Though I am curious as to where he had disappeared to.

"Dreary without you," he says and gives me a pointed look.

Oh lord, that was so corny. "Where have you been all day?"

"Around."

"Around where?" I ask again.

"Around town."

Fine. I ain't gonna ask him again. I feel a headache coming on. Holy daffodils I forgot my aspirin. That is something I never go without. Especially if I knew I was going to be spending time with Remy or Kitty. Wait, that's the only reason I ever need it.

The rest of the ride went just like this. He kept asking me questions and I kept giving him one-word answers. I guess I should mention that I'm nervous. This is new territory for me. I've only ever been on one other date before, and even though that was fun, I don't know if it really constitutes as a 'date date'.

This is a date date. I'm nervous. What am I supposed to do? I've heard Kitty say before that you're not supposed to eat. To hell with that, I'm hungry. I rack my brain, trying to remember all that bologna Kitty says about dating.

Of course, maybe I shouldn't take Kitty's advice right now. This date is gonna be a one time thing. After this, no more Remy. No Remy at all. I just hope this time won't be as fun as the last one.

Ten minutes later, Remy pulls into a seafood restaurant called 'The Great Catch'. On the way in, we go back to me smackin his hands away and threatening his life. Of course when we go inside though, we both have friendly smiles on our faces for the waitress.

And then when the waitress's back is turned we go back to this. I'll skip that story too.

This restaurant is nice, but it isn't like a ten star fancy shmansy everyone's using ten forks to eat kind of place. After I see a few people with their kids and see how everyone is dressed, I realize that it had been completely unnecessary for me to dress up. Damn Remy! I'm never going to listen to any advice he gives me again. If he tells me to dress up, I'm going out and buying a pair of overalls!

Except that I would be mocked mercilessly by the rest of my friends if I wore that. And hey, I wouldn't blame them. If any one of them came up wearing overalls, I would laugh too.

I do like the restaurant though. There's a big, giant aquarium with all these exotic fish at the front. I do not, however, like the lobster aquarium. Poor lobsters.

The waitress sits us smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. Lovely. I don't know why this makes me uncomfortable; it just does. Probably because we're dressed nicely and everyone else was wearing blue jeans.

"Why did you tell me to dress up?" I hiss across the table as soon as we sit down.

"I wanted to look nice for you," he says with a pair of big eyes. I'm starting to feel bad about over-reacting when he snorts and says, "And I didn't want to dress up alone, I'd look stupid if I did it by myself."

I'm about to smack him when a different waitress from the one who had seated us comes up. She's tall and leggy and has a beautiful mane of blonde hair that I can't help but envy. I'm not sure why she's working as a waitress and not on the cover of some magazine.

"Hi, my name is Kristin and I'll be your server," she says to Remy. She doesn't even glance in my direction. And I don't care. I'm just getting mad because…the wallpaper is stupid. "What would you like to drink?"

Remy smiles politely up at her and orders. When it's my turn, she barely glances my way and scribbles my order down before going back to Remy.

"So, do you and your sister know what you want to eat yet? Or do you need a moment?"

Oh no she didn't.

So, I'm sure you remember I'm an idiot, right? Idiots do stupid things. I'm an idiot; so therefore, I do stupid things quite often. Ridiculously often. I swear I have no control over myself. This chick is making me sick, physically sick. I mean, what kind of service is this anyway?

Now, I'm about to do something really stupid.

Prepare yourself.

I slam a fist on the table angrily and stand up. Why? You know why.

"I'm his date!" I say loudly. Loud enough for the people at the other tables to hear.

I'm tellin you, ridiculously often.

Startled, stupid Kristin turns to me. Whoa, she's like two feet taller than I am. Forget what I said about being on a magazine, she could have been a lumberjack if she wanted.

Lumberjack Lady is about to say something when I cut her off.

"I'd like a different waitress please." I carefully keep my eyes off of Remy (who is looking like he just won the lottery) and point to another waitress who is passing by us with a big platter of cooked oysters. "How about that one?"

But just as this waitress passes—I smell the oysters. Suddenly my physical sickness for Lumberjack Lady is turning into a very real sickness. Oh holy crap—I think I may have caught whatever Kitty, Bobby, and Kurt have. And it's coming on just as fast as there's did.

Ok, deep breath, maybe I don't have that. Remy and Lumberjack Lady are giving me the same curious look.

"Are you ok?" Remy asks, concerned.

I sit down slowly and continue to breathe. I'm doing alright—until I smell those damn oysters again. Turns out the people right behind me ordered them.

"Bucket!" I manage to grind out at Remy right before—well, I'm guessing you know what happened next.

I fell onto my hands and knees on the floor and upchucked right there under the table. If this were anyone else I would have thought it was awesome and well…I probably would have laughed at them. But of course the universe hates me, so it's me this is happening to.

Lumberjack Lady freaked out. The people at the table behind me freaked out. Well, pretty much the whole restaurant freaked out. Remy climbed under the table behind me and held my hair back while one of the waitresses screamed something about the carpet.

And the only thought that I find myself holding onto so that I don't become completely depressed, is that maybe they'll make Lumberjack Lady clean it up.

That's a nice thought.