Slumber Party

Chapter Four—T.P. or Not T.P

            Ash's mind was in a fog the entire trip over to his house.  He was torn between two conflicting sides on the same number of issues.  First there was the matter of Misty.  On the one hand Misty liked him.  On the other hand—even if it meant she'd never get another replacement for her bike for the rest of her life—Misty was going to kill him.  And then there was his mom.  On the surface this should have been the smaller problem—his mom had to love him because he was her son.  However his mom also loved her garden, and if it got damaged during their little prank...forget the three months of morning sickness she had when she was pregnant with him.  Forget the eight hours of labor she went through to give birth and the eleven years she had raised him under her roof.  If even a tomato died—then so did he.

            So, Misty liked him—Misty was going to kill him.  His mother loved him—his mother was going to kill him.  And to his eleven-year-old brain, there was no way that either side could ever be compatible with the other...but wait!  Maybe there was a resolution.  Hadn't someone once said, "You always hurt the ones you love?"  So theoretically, Misty could like him and kill him at the same time...and the same went for his mom...

            Huh.  There had to be a better answer.

            Misty sat with him in the back seat of the minivan, completely quiet.  Ash wondered if her thoughts were as muddled as his were.  She was separated from the other girls; even though Ash and Misty had plenty of room in the back, the other girls had decided to sit together in the front two seats so they could talk about the upcoming prank.  Misty wasn't talking or listening to them.  She just stared out the window the way she had most of the trip there.  She hadn't even spoken to him, and he had been her only confidante the entire night, even after they stopped playing truth or dare and watched another movie until it was late enough to go roll his house.  In a weird way it was funny; Ash was her best friend, even when she didn't know it was him.  He guessed that meant that she didn't like him for any shallow reason, like appearance or popularity.  She just liked him for being him.

            ...Hey, that was a pretty deep thought.  Ash congratulated himself.  Not bad for a boy in a pink dress.

            "We're here." 

            Ash looked up from his thoughts and gulped at Angie's announcement—out of the corner of his eye he saw Misty with a hesitant expression on her face as well.  He looked out the window and saw his street laid out in front of him.  Wow, he never noticed how bright his streetlights were...

            "The lights in his house are off," Angie said in a whisper.  Of course they were.  His mom always went to bed by midnight, and it was a quarter till.  Normally Ash himself would fall asleep standing up if it were this late.  But tonight nervous tension kept him awake.  His mom could come up with creative ways of torture...he wondered what death by dental floss would be like.

            "Okay," Angie's sister, who had driven them, said, "I'm going to drop you off, then drive around the block.  I'll park at the end of the street for a few minutes and then start cruising up the street to see if you're ready.  If you're not, I'll do it again, and again until you're ready or you get caught, whichever comes first.  Remember, if there's any trouble—you're on your own.  I can't afford to lose car privileges, so I'll take whoever is in the van and I'll pick up the stragglers later.  Assuming there are any left."

            That last sentence didn't sound the least bit ominous...he never knew he could feel like a refugee on his own lawn. 

            "Take your ammunition now," Angie said, and passed them each a can off shaving cream and a roll of toilet paper.  Ash stared at the equipment in his hand.  Who had eight cans of shaving cream lying around the house?

            "Did you plan this?" he asked.

            "Duh," Angie grinned.  "It wouldn't be a slumber party if we didn't go rolling."

            Oh, yes, how could he have forgotten?

            They opened the side door and scurried out into the yard.  "Now spread out, be quick, and above all, stay quiet!" Angie commanded in a loud whisper, and each of the other girls ran to her chosen spot of vandalism.  Jess worked on his fence and mailbox, Zildy started decorating the bushes outside his house, Natty started rolling—oh please, not his mom's car!—and Angie put the shaving cream to good use writing on the driveway. 

            Ash and Misty just stood on the lawn and looked at each other.  Before anyone could notice they weren't doing anything, Ash leaned over and asked Misty, "Want to go to the back yard?"  Misty nodded and they strolled into the shadows cast by the side of the house. 

            It was really dark in the back, away from the glow of the streetlights...he could see Misty's silhouette, and that was about it.  He was careful not to trip over anything and sprain an ankle.  That would be just what he needed, to hurt himself while pulling a prank on—himself.  He blinked.  He never thought of it that way; it was pretty strange, actually.  Heck, who was he kidding?  All his dilemmas were strange...there was one consolation.  If he hurt himself, at least he could make Brock and Tracey wait on him while he was an invalid.  No, that was too good for them.  The punishment would have to fit the crime.  How he was going to manage that, though, remained to be told...

            "So, what do we do now?" Misty whispered.

            Ash gave her a weird look, not that she could see it in the dark.  "I thought we were supposed to be toilet papering m...Mrs. Ketchum's house," he said, biting the 'my' off his tongue at the last minute.  He felt himself grow warm at that slip, even though Misty didn't seem to notice.  But she wasn't very observant of anything right now; she just sighed and walked over to the back doorstep.  He didn't really have a choice but to follow her.  She was in the same despondent mood she had been in the van, and this time Ash dared to talk to her.  "What's wrong?" he asked.

            "I don't feel right doing this," she told him.  Ash raised his eyebrows at this statement; she was really worried.  The moon came out from behind the clouds long enough for him to see her wringing her hands, and then the light disappeared again as she continued. 

            "Mrs. Ketchum has been really nice to me," she said quietly.  "I know it's just a joke, and if we were just playing a trick on Ash and Brock I'd be fine.  They can take it—all they'd do is figure out some way to get even.  But Mrs. Ketchum treats me like family; she even got me a birthday present.  I feel really guilty paying her back like this."

            Ash felt both sympathy and warmth in his chest.  His mom, being one of the few good female role models Misty saw on a regular basis, was a big influence on Misty.  It wasn't that Misty constantly sought her advice; but when Delia did offer it, Misty took it.  He didn't know whether to be proud that she liked his mom so much—or annoyed that she didn't give him the same respect.  Of course, she was right on the getting even part...

            "Although," Misty said thoughtfully, "It may not matter, as Ash will probably be the one who has to clean it up, anyway, and how's he going to find out who did it?"  She giggled, and Ash rolled his eyes to himself.  Misty had way too much fun at his expense.  For someone she supposedly liked, she sure had a funny way of showing it.  Besides, he had ways of finding out things like that.  Such as, oh, dressing up as a girl and going undercover to a slumber party...amazing the things you can learn at one of those...

            ...Hey.  That gave him an idea.  And for the first time that night, making him think he'd either lost his mind or accepted his circumstances (same difference,) Ash was glad to be a girl.  Brock was brilliant—okay, so that was an exaggeration.  Brock approached competency.  But maybe Ash would just torture him to the brink of death instead of actually killing him.  Because, Ash realized, now that he had recovered his senses after finding out how Misty really felt about him, he was in the perfect position to ask her about their relationship without embarrassing either one of them.

            "Misty?" he said.  "Can I ask you a question?"

            "Sure."

            "The boy who lives in this house...the other Ash...you really like him, don't you?"

            He had butterfrees in his stomach when she didn't answer for a moment.  "I feel more comfortable talking about it with you than the other girls," she finally admitted.  That was probably because he wasn't a girl.  "Yeah.  I do." 

            "Have you told him yet?" he asked.  Misty's answer was quick this time.

            "No, I couldn't do that," she said.

            "Why not?"

            "Because.  He's a boy."

            Sure, that was logical.  Ash blinked.  "I thought that was the point." 

            Misty giggled.  "You're silly."

            He was silly?  He wasn't the one currently in a state of denial...well, actually...okay, never mind that.  He wondered how long Misty had liked him—it's not like he had noticed a change in her, so there was no telling when she had decided she did.  Did that mean that all this time, when he thought she was picking on him, she was really flirting and he just didn't know it?  That was weird.  He almost got goosebumps—maybe it was a good thing he hadn't known that she liked him until now, because he didn't have to react.  Hadn't, at least—problem was, now that he did know, he owed it to Misty to think about how he felt about her.  Misty had obviously been thinking of him enough, if she had figured out that she liked him—that idea was even weirder.  He succumbed to the goosebumps.

            "Are you cold?" Misty asked.

            Drat, she knew something was wrong.  "No, I just...I was wondering if they were almost done.  I'm ready to go back.  I'm too nervous out here."

            "I know what you mean," Misty agreed.  "I really don't want to get caught.  I haven't heard anyone driving down the road, though, much less Angie's sister."

            "Me neither," Ash said.  They sat in silence once again.  In the field behind his house he saw a soft sparkling; it looked like the mountains had been draped with lights.  When he was younger, he used to think it was fairy dust, and in the evenings he would run around with a jelly jar, trying to catch it so he could use it to fly.  He smiled at the memory.  "Look," he showed Misty, "there are ledian out tonight." 

            "They're pretty, aren't they?" she said, her voice soft in admiration.  Then to his surprise she leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder and sighing.  It was all he could do not to jump out of his skin—and then he smiled.  Was this another girl thing?  If so, he wasn't complaining.  It felt...right.  His arm felt heavy suddenly, like it needed support—such as, oh, around Misty's shoulders—except there was one small detail.  Misty still thought he was Ashley.  Ash frowned.  This was one of the few times he and Misty were actually being sweet to each other, and he couldn't enjoy it because he was wearing a dress.  He was back to killing Brock again.

            "Misty?" Ash asked her, because he had to know.  "Do you think about him a lot?"

            When she lifted her head, he was sorry he asked, because it felt nice.  But she didn't seem bothered.  "Not all the time," she said.  "But probably more than he thinks about me."

            And she was probably right about that too...until now.  "Like when?" he asked.

            "Like when he's just won a battle or something, and I want to tell him how well he did, but I don't because I'm afraid he'll start teasing me. And it's all my fault, because when we first met that was all I did," she said, and sighed wistfully as she continued, "Or when he does something really cute, or looks nice, and I want to tell him that, but I'm afraid to because he'll start joking about me liking him." 

            She was sitting with her hands in her lap now, and he felt the sudden urge to pick one up to comfort her.  Uh-oh...this was not good.  If he was feeling sorry for Misty because she liked him and didn't know if he liked her back...then what was the next logical step?  Boy, he was growing up way too fast. He shouldn't have to face decisions like this until he was, like, forty or something.

            "Well, what's wrong with that?" he asked her, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time in his life, he knew what hormones were.  "Isn't that what you want?"

            He could see her face in the moonlight again, and she smiled sadly.  "You don't understand.  That's all it is to him—a tease, a joke.  He doesn't take it seriously.  And so I don't tell him I like him...because it's no fun liking someone who doesn't like you back."

            Oh...ouch.  Ash winced.  Poor Misty.  No wonder girls talked about boys so much—boys were so inconsiderate.  Only interested in themselves and ignorant of a girl's feelings...okay, he was way too in touch with his feminine side.  But he still felt guilty, even though he hadn't done anything wrong.  Maybe he should have been nicer to Misty...though how was he supposed to know?  She acted like she liked his teasing.  It wasn't his fault she was sending mixed messages.  Or maybe...maybe she did like his teasing. She just wanted to know that there was something more behind it.

            Wow, two insights in one night?  Too bad he couldn't tell Misty.  She might have had to stop calling him stupid for a while.  Well, at least now he understood better how she felt.  But he was no closer than before in sorting out his own feelings...

            They heard the sound of a car, and they looked at each other.  "I think that's our ride," he whispered.  "Just leave the toilet paper and shaving cream here, and we'll pretend we rolled the back."  She nodded, and they stood up to leave. 

            They were still in the back yard but could see the front when light flooded the front porch.  "Who's there?" a male voice Ash recognized as Brock's called out. 

            "RUN!" Angie yelled, and it was met by a chorus of screams as the other girls bolted to the minivan parked on the curb.  Ash and Misty gave each other a quick look and started to follow.

            Except...Ash made it a grand total of two steps before the ground was suddenly lot closer to his face than it had been.  He yelped in surprise and pain as he tried to scramble up and realized that, of all the luck, he had tripped over a hole in the yard and now his left ankle was throbbing.  He had forgotten one of the cardinal rules of cross-dressing—forget the make-up, forget the bra—only girls know how to run in Mary Janes.

            "Ash!"  Misty stopped in place and ran back to help him.  She put her arm around his waist and helped him stand as she asked, "Are you okay?"

            "Fine, I just twisted my ankle," he gasped.  "Quick, you go on and get in the van, and I'll find some place to hide."

            Misty was shaking her head and practically dragging him backwards.  He had to hop to keep up.  "Come on, we can hide in the back," she said.

            "Misty!" Why did she have to act so stubborn?  "This is no time to start acting loyal!"

            "I'm not leaving you hurt," she said, and he had to give her credit—he would have done the same thing.  "Hurry, if Brock can't catch the others, then we're next."

            Ash shook his head and they limped back into the shadows.  She led him straight to...not the garden!  This night just kept going from bad to worse.  Oh well, maybe he could eat one of his mom's tomatoes as his last meal...

            "Quick, hide behind the tomato stalks," she said.  "It's dark enough that no one should be able to see through the gaps."

            She helped him sit down, and then squatted behind him.  "How's your ankle?"

            "It'll be okay, I think I just need to walk on it a little," he said, and tried to stretch it to emphasize his point.  Although the result was that it just twinged in pain more.  "You should have gone!" he told her, annoyed both at her and himself.  If he hadn't hurt himself then she never would have stayed.  Now they were both at risk of being grounded—and that would hurt Misty more than it would him.

            "Too late now," she retorted.  Then they both fell silent at the voice that joined Brock's.

            "Brock, what's going on?"  Oh no...his mother was awake...

            "Somebody likes me!" Brock shouted joyously.  Knowing Brock, he was probably dancing in the yard for all the neighbors who had awakened by Angie and her friends' screams to see.  "Look at the driveway, Mrs. Ketchum!  It says 'Brock Rocks!'"

            Ash attempted to hold back a snort.  Beside him, he heard Misty having a similar reaction.  Angie had to be something special to like that nut, that was for sure.

            "I see," Mrs. Ketchum said, but she didn't sound nearly as happy.  "Our yard is a mess!  Do you have any idea who did this?"

            "No," Brock said, and his tone sounded significantly glummer.  But then it was resolute as he declared, "But believe me, I'll find out!  I'll search the ends of the earth to find my beloved!  Nothing is too much for the one I love!"

            "How can he love her when he doesn't even know who she is?" Ash mumbled under his breath, and he could feel Misty shaking with laughter beside him. 

            His mom didn't appear to share Brock's sentiments either.  "Whatever you say," she said.  "In any case—I hate to ask this, with it being so late, but can you clean up this stuff tonight?  I would hate for it to blow into the neighbors' yard before morning.  And I can send Pikachu and Mimie out to help."

            "Sure!" Brock forgot about his new love and went back to trying to impress Mrs. Ketchum.  "Cleaning is my middle name.  I can clean whatever you want, Mrs. Ketchum...the yard, the house, the cobwebs in your heart..."   Ash tried not to gag at the thought of Brock hitting on his mother.  Speaking of hormones...

            They heard the door shut on Brock's proclamation as his mom went inside, and then open and shut again when she let the pokémon out.  Ash sighed and leaned against Misty's shoulder.  His ankle was no longer throbbing but had subsided to a dull ache.  Now all they had to do was wait ...he could hear Brock humming as he cleaned up the yard.  He rolled his eyes to himself.  Brock was a great friend, but he had strange hobbies.  He could accept collecting rock pokémon and chasing after girls.  He could even accept cooking.  But cleaning was just plain weird.

            He tensed as he heard a noise in the yard.  "What was that?"

            "Pika..." a little pokémon inquired hopefully.  "Pikapi?" 

            Oh, great.  Just great.  Ash had been gone all night, and now Pikachu was anxious to find his trainer again.  Except his trainer didn't want to be found...

            "Uh-oh," Misty said in a low voice.  "I bet he can track me...he knows my scent..."

            "I don't think it's you he's looking for," Ash said wryly.  Misty looked at him in bewilderment but didn't answer, because Pikachu was looking straight at them.  Ash tried to remember how good Pikachu's night vision was.  And of course Pikachu wasn't psychic, but they did have a bond...maybe Ash could send him a message using mind power.  Go away!  You're going to get me in trouble!

            One of two things happened next.  Either Pikachu was as clueless as his trainer could be and didn't hear this command—or he did hear it and decided the idea of getting Ash into trouble was fun.  In any case, he stopped for a moment, stared at the garden with his ears twitching—then made a beeline for Ash.

            Ash frantically tried to shoo him away.  "Go see Misty, she said she missed you!" he murmured, trying to speak low enough that only Pikachu would hear him—if Pikachu could hear him.  Wonder of wonders, Pikachu stopped right before Ash and then leapt happily into Misty's arms.  Now all Misty had to do was explain to him that they were playing a game and wanted to stay hidden...maybe they were safe.

            "Pikachu, what are you doing?" Brock called out, walking around back.  Okay, this complicated things, but Brock wouldn't turn them in.  Tease them, yes (especially him,) and force them to perform a ridiculously disproportionate chore in return for cleaning up the mess they had made, but he would at least keep their secret.

            The back light switched on.  "Brock, I heard you calling...is something going on?" his mom called from the back step.

            Ash gulped...and then nose itched.  Oh, no...they were done for.

            "Just stay quiet," Misty hissed, unaware of his predicament.  She peered intently at the back porch.  "As long as they don't look too closely we're okay."

            "I can't," Ash mumbled, and wrinkled his nose up.

            "What?"  There was a little more light in the yard, and he could see Misty's eyes widen as she realized the problem.  "Ash...try to hold it in!"

            "I'm trying...it's not working..." Ash's eyes were watering, and his nose was really twitching...he had forgotten he was allergic to ledian dust...

            "Ash..."

            "Ah-CHOO!"

            That couldn't have been any louder if he had tried.  His mom immediately ran down the steps.  "All right, who's there...and in my garden...Misty!"  Mrs. Ketchum was shocked, then furious as she parted the tomato stalks to reveal two young 'girls' peering up at her with scared and contrite faces.

            Misty bit her lip and for a horrible moment Ash thought she was going to cry.  But she held it together.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I was going to clean it up..."

            Mrs. Ketchum ignored the apology.  "Inside.  Now," she demanded.  Misty waited until Ash stood up, as he still couldn't support himself fully.

            "And who are you—oh my goodness, are you hurt?"  His mom temporarily put her anger aside when she saw him limping.  Brock also saw him and almost split his face, his smirk was so wide.  Ash felt like taking a pumice stone and scrubbing that smile right off.

            "I'm okay.  I just turned it, I need to walk on it," he told his mom, his voice high to maintain his disguise for lack of anything better to do.  He limped  forward as if to prove his point.

            "Just so, I'd rather have Brock carry you inside," she said.  Wha....?  Ash glared at Brock as the older trainer walked forward.

            "I'm okay," Ash insisted.

            "Better safe than sorry, sweetie," Brock said innocently.  Ash growled under his breath and attempted to discreetly kick him, and then—oof!  Brock picked him up and carried him up the steps.  His mom turned her attention back to Misty, her tone hardening.  "Misty, I'm surprised at you."

            "I'm sorry," she said again, and she sounded even more miserable.  Ash wished he was still leaning on her for support—he could have given her a hug.  Out of character for him, yes, but tears called for drastic measures.  "The other girls wanted to...I really was going to come back and clean up..."

            Sure, now she said that.  Earlier she had had no problem whatsoever with him cleaning it up...interesting what the threat of punishment can do to your priorities.

            "Well, you won't be going back tonight," Mrs. Ketchum said as they stepped into the kitchen.  "And believe me, Angie's parents will be hearing about this."

            Misty didn't say anything—there was nothing to be said.  Brock gently lowered Ash into a chair, and then knelt down to look at his ankle.  Ash swatted him when he tried to raise Ash's skirt, causing Brock to snicker again.  He gave the ankle a quick examination and looked up to tell Mrs. Ketchum, "It's a little swollen, but it just needs some ice and a bandage."  He turned to Ash and, winking so that Mrs. Ketchum couldn't see, said, "You'll need to be careful with it for a couple of days but I think you'll be able to walk on it."

            "That's good," Mrs. Ketchum said.  With the danger over she was could turn her wrath on Ash without guilt.   "And as for you young lady," she said sternly, "I'm not you're mother—"

            Guess again, Ash thought.

             "—but I have a feeling you won't be returning to the slumber party tonight either.  I'm going to call your parents to come pick you up, and if I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be happy at having to come pick up my son in the middle of the night, either."  She got that much right.

            "What's your name?" she demanded.  She stalked over to the telephone.

            "Ash....ley," he said slowly.

            "Ashley, what's your telephone number?" 

            There was a clench in his chest; the game was up.  He looked straight ahead and told the truth.  Beside him, he heard Misty give a strangled gasp and fall still as she recognized the number.  His mom was very tired, though—his words didn't even register.  She dialed the phone and then slammed it down when all she got was a busy signal.

            "I'll try again in a minute," she said, extreme annoyance showing through in her voice.  "Ashley, who is your mother?"

            Misty was backing towards the door, her face pale.  She shook her head.  "No..." she whispered.  Ash gave her an anguished look before turning back to his mom.

            "Young lady, I asked you a question!" Delia said angrily.  "You're in enough trouble as it is, now I suggest you answer me.  Who...is...your...mother?"

            Ash slowly reached up and took off his wig.  

            "You are."

            Delia gasped and she was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come to terms with the knowledge that her little boy had turned into a cross-dresser.  Brock gave in to the laughter that had been threatening to escape ever since he had seen Ash in the garden.  And Misty...

            ...ran out of the room, the door slamming behind her.  He could hear the sound of her sobs as she ran.  After all that...it had been him who had made her cry.  He hung his head, surprising himself when his eyes stung at that thought.  He rubbed at them roughly and bit his lip—now that it was too late, he finally knew. 

            Funny how you never know just how much like someone until you hurt them the worst.

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A/n:  Okay, let's see if I can remember everything.  For starters, everyone who wondered if Ash was going to get caught...there you go.  Also, why I had Angie t.p. the house of a boy she liked...I can't exactly explain the reasoning, but it happens.  lol  Though to clear things up, she's not mean.  After all, she just used shaving cream and toilet paper.  She could have put bubble bath in the yard the night before it rained.  ^_~  And finally, I already had most of this chapter planned out, so I couldn't throw anyone extra in here, but stay tuned for the requested cameo in the next chapter.  ^^

My goodness...I have one hundred reviews.  O.O   ^_^!!!!!   Have I mentioned that you guys are awesome?  Guy or girl, it doesn't matter, I'm gonna kiss ya.  I'm a girl, I can do that.  blows kiss  Let's just hope you don't react like Ash does to a kiss.  (Eh, Dragoness? lol)  And btw, I owe three million emails/reviews to other people...I haven't forgotten about you!  I'll catch up over the next week, when my parents are back at work and off the computer!   ^_~  That's when the next chapter will be posted as well, so see you then...

Disclaimer:  I don't own pokémon.  And I'm too tired to be creative, so 'nuff said.