Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice. I am also not Rebecca Black or Elvis Presley. Now that everything's in order…
Chapter 36
"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday."
Grabbing all of my things from my locker, I glared at Dick and demanded, "Why are you singing that infernal song?"
"Because it's Friday and you have to get down on Friday," he stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Turning on my cell phone—there's a zero-tolerance policy at our school—I began cramming my binders and books into my backpack. "I hate that song."
"You have to admit, it's catchy."
"It's annoying as Hell."
"Funny, I always thought Hell would be more painful than annoying."
Before I had a chance to answer, my phone started buzzing. A text from Wally: Hey babe call me when u get this. It was sent at 12 o'clock.
Punching in his number, I held the phone to my ear, trying to ignore Dick as he poked me repetitively and asked, "Who are you calling?"
"Artemis?"
"Hey, Wally. Just got your text. Teachers are Nazis here and will take your phone if you have it on you," I explained, sticking my tongue out at my immature friend, clasping his hands together and making kissing sounds.
"No problem. Just wanted to know if you wanted to come to the Spring Fling—it's not a school dance or something like that, just a big block-party thing Central City always has. Food, games, music, that kind of stuff."
"I'd love to. What time?"
"I'll pick you up around six?"
"Sounds good. I'll see you then."
"Later, babe."
Closing the phone, I dropped it into my bag and shot a dirty look at Dick, who was smirking at me. "What?"
"Artemis and Wally, sitting in a tree—"
"Don't you dare," I told him, trying to get him into a headlock. He easily dodged and kept going, "K-I-S-S-I-N—"
"You really want to do this when you have your own girlfriend and there are ample opportunities for me to embarrass you?"
Shutting up, he coughed a bit and proposed, "We'll just pretend this never happened."
"There you go." Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
We went our separate ways, me to the bus loading platform and him to the car pick-up zone. I somehow survived the trip home, even with all the boys in the back of the bus having an impromptu sing-along to "Friday"—this song has greater mind-controlling powers than Megan—and everyone else cheering them on.
"Hi, Mom," I called, heading to my room. "I'm going out with Wally tonight, okay?"
"He's picking you up?"
"Yeah. At six." Dropping my book bag next to my desk, I moved to my closet. "We're going to some spring festival in Central City."
"Curfew's eleven."
"I know, I know. Don't worry." I grabbed a dark green holster top and a pair of light blue jeans and threw them on my bed. "I won't be late."
"And you'll text me once you're there?"
"Of course," I assured her, slipping out of my school uniform and pulling on the other clothes. Freeing my hair from the ponytail, I ran a brush through it and, once it was acceptable, moved on to my make-up. With two and a half hours left to kill, I decided to get my homework out of the way. Just as I was shoving everything into its rightful place, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," I yelled to my mom as I raced out of my room. Running my fingers through my hair, one last-ditch effort to tame it, I opened the door. "Hi, Wally."
He was leaning against the frame, clearly trying to look cool, but as he tried to straighten himself without using his hands, he almost toppled to the floor. Collecting himself, he grinned. "Hey, babe. You look great."
"Thanks," I murmured, kissing his cheek. "So do you."
"You ready?"
"Yeah. Just give me a second." Walking back down the hall, I went into Mom's room. "Good-bye, Mom." I knelt down to give her a hug.
"Have fun," she told me.
"I will," I promised, standing to leave. When I got back to the front door, I said, "Let's go, Bay Watch."
Snickering at the nickname, he picked me up and sped us to his city's town square. Kids were running around, most with face paint on and a couple carrying balloons. The adults were chatting it up, occasionally checking to make sure none of their children were seriously injured or in the midst of being kidnapped. Tables of food were set up, pizza and pasta and cheeseburgers and just about anything else you could imagine. Scattered throughout the area were games and booths, with a live band at the center of everything.
"Wow."
"Yeah. Winters suck here, so when the weather's nice, it's a good enough reason to celebrate." Entwining his fingers with mine, he asked, "Wanna get something to eat?"
"Even if I didn't, you would," I teased, right as his stomach rumbled.
"Hey, it's not my fault I have a speedster's metabolism. Besides, you know how much energy it takes to get from here to Gotham and back?"
As we got in line, I questioned, "Where does all the food come from?"
He shrugged. "Volunteers. Everyone tries to sign up for something, you know? Oooh, hot dogs!"
When we each had a plate of food (two plates, in Wally's case), we sat down in front of the band. "This is actually really nice," I said. "Gotham doesn't do anything like this."
He snorted. "It's Gotham. Being dark and scary comes with the territory."
Stealing a cookie off his plate, I protested, "It's not always that bad, you know."
"I know." He kissed my forehead. "It can't be if it has people like you."
Blushing, I took a bite of my contraband before shoving the rest in his mouth. "That's so sappy."
"It true," he insisted. After a moment, he murmured, "You're the best thing to ever happen to me."
"Even better than getting your powers?" I joked.
"So much better," he told me, completely serious. "I've never felt this way about anyone, Artemis. I care about you so much."
"Oh, Wally." I pulled him into a hug. "I care about you, too."
"And I just wanted to apologize for all the times I've been a jerk."
"What?"
"You know, acting like I did with Cam and all."
"You've apologized already."
"To him, yeah. But not to you. I must've made you feel like you had to pick between us, didn't I?"
"No," I muttered, quickly taking a bite out of my cheeseburger.
"Really?"
"Okay, fine, maybe you did. But I know you didn't mean anything by it. You were just being… you know, yourself."
"It was still stupid." Scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably, he continued, "I mean, I have no right to try to dictate who you hang out with or what you do. If you said Cam was your best friend, I shouldn't have acted like an idiot about it. It's your life, and I have no control over that." In a softer voice, he said, "And I don't want to have control over it. One of the things I like most about you is your independence, your toughness. And I never want you to lose that."
"Trust me, Wally, I never plan on it."
"I know." He smiled, but it didn't seem all there. "But if I ever do something that even makes you think that I want to take that away from you, tell me, okay?"
I put the pieces together. "You're still upset over…what happened?"
He nodded. "I should've known you wouldn't have been ready for it. I shouldn't have even suggested it. But I thought…I thought it would make us closer, you know? Like it would somehow undo everything that had happened to you and would make everything go back to normal. But I was just being selfish because you'd been hurt and of course you're not just going to get better just like that and I shouldn't have expected that and I shouldn't have forced you to do it and I'm sorry—"
"You didn't force me," I protested, taking his hand in mine.
"You did it to make me happy."
"That's not the same as forcing me. I can speak up for myself, Wally, and I should have said that I wasn't ready."
"I should've known better. I shouldn't have acted like…like him."
"Like who? Like Terror?" The way he looked down, I knew I guessed right. "Wally, you're nothing like Terror, okay? He forced me; you didn't. It's not the same. It's not even close. I'm not scared when I'm with you. It doesn't hurt to be with you. I like it when you kiss me and hold me and tell me I'm pretty. You're not like him, and I know you will never be like him. So stop thinking like that or I'll kick your ass."
He smiled again, and this time, it was for real. "Alright, alright, babe. No need for violence—I'm a lover, not a fighter."
Rolling my eyes, I gave him a small shove and turned back to my food. He did the same. Afterwards, he insisted on playing the games, even though they were carnival-style and clearly rigged. Twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents later ("Hey, at least it's going to charity!"), he presented me with an oversized stuffed tiger.
"Thank you," I giggled, trying to find a suitable way to hold it.
"Anything for my girl," he replied, giving me a quick kiss. "Listen, I'll be right back—I'm getting something to drink. You want anything?"
When I shook my head, he wormed his way through the crowd, leaving me with my new pet and a sudden mob of children, all staring at it with admiration before running off to tell their parents that yes, the games were totally winnable.
"Making friends, I see," Wally mused, arriving just as the last of the kids scampered off.
"You just gave them all false hope of winning a prize like this."
"Ah, well, they'll get over it." Taking a sip of his soda, he nodded toward the band. "You like them?"
"Yeah, they're not bad. Why?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, but I saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Before I could grill him about it, though, the band finished their song and the lead singer addressed the crowd: "This next one is an oldie but goody, dedicated to Artemis from her boyfriend, Wally." Pointing toward us, he continued, "Young love at its finest, folks."
My face blazing, I gaped at Wally as he just smirked—he was not allowed to hang out with Robin ever again—and asked, "Surprised?"
"I can't believe you," I hissed, trying to ignore the people grinning at us. That's when the music started: "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You."
"Can I have this dance?" he inquired, placing his drink down and holding out his hand.
Wordlessly, I dropped my prize and took it, still not believing that this was actually happening. As we swayed to the melody, he mused, "You know, I really can't tell if you want to punch me or kiss me."
"I really want to punch you," I said, watching the other dancers around us. Looking into his eyes, I continued, "But I want to kiss you even more."
"Good." He rested his forehead against mine. "Because I really want to kiss you, too."
It was the best kiss of my life.