Priestess Aishisu: Yippee! Reviews!

strawberry lover!!!: I loved the story by Jacqueline Wilson and I like how you altered it. Of course, I'm still getting used to the idea of 1 and 86 because I've always been a fan of 1/5 but its a kewl start. Keep it flowing!!

StRaWbErRy LoVeR

Priestess Aishisu: I've always been a fan of 1/5 too, but if I put Numbuh 362 and Chad and Cree and all of them with somebody, I should put Numbuh 86 with somebody too. Right?

Sammeh Teh CheeseCake: Very loud annoying fangirl scream AH! I love this fanfic, the very first 1/86 one! I worship you! They kissed! AH! OMG! OMG! OMG!

Are you trying to kill me?! I love this! PLEASE keep it up! Glomps you.

Sammeh (Teh Biggest 1/86 Fan)

Priestess Aishisu: (Pushes you with a stick) Back! Back! Are you off? All right. Thanks for reviewing! I hope you write a 1/86 fanfiction soon, it's depressing being the only one.

Princess Rusty: Aishisu, YOU ROCK!
I love the fluffiness! I sort of thought that 86 should be with someone, and I went over the list of all the boys. I figured that only numbah one made even the least bit of sense.
That's how much time I have to kill.
C-ya at the next chapter! Princess Rusty

Priestess Aishisu: I have time to kill, too. And I agree, Numbuh One is the only boy that could make sense for her. I like 1/5 and all, but I'm now quite certain that Numbuh Five is officially with Numbuh Two.

WolfBane2: (protests) It was not a flame! It was a angry threat! There's a difference!

But I like the 1/86 parts. They'd make such a weird pair it's entertaining.

Priestess Aishisu: Right...either way it's bad. Yeah, I agree about the 1/86 being so weird it's entertaining. I mean, he is the only guy that would make the least bit of sense for her...

Kawaii34Girl: Tee Hee Hee

I LOVE it! I REALLY hope u up-date 2morrow!

If not then... uh... ;;

Sammeh Teh CheeseCake is one of the people in the RP, wahoo!

Kawaii34Girl
...because 3/4 AND 1/86 r cute.

Priestess Aishisu: Yeah, I guessed that she was. I usually update the day after, but since I have Three fanfictions to work on and my mom is out of town and she's the one who owns the computer and she smashed mine against the stove when she was mad...you didn't need to know that.

Priestess Aishisu: Anyway, this starts from back in the kitchen while Francine was out on the porch, then goes back to afterwards.

Francine stormed off to her bedroom and slammed the door. The kitchen was suddenly silent. David knew Francine was right. He knew he should go after her. He knew by the gleam in Marigold's eyes and the kitchen clutter that Marigold wasn't all right at all. This was the start of one of her phases—but she was back, and he didn't want to ruin it.

"Fanny wants a cookie, really," he said quietly, wishing she would cheer up and return to the kitchen. He didn't know how to deal with Marigold when she was in one of her phases. Francine would always deal with that.

"Of course she does," Marigold replied, though she seemed uncertain. "We'll make her a lovely angel, just like yours. And seeing as how she's so mad at me we'll make my cookie a fallen angel. You know, a little devil. With horns and a tail and everything. Do you think that will make her laugh, Dave?"

"You bet," David replied, though he sincerely doubted it.

"You weren't really worried, were you, little Dave?" She frowned slightly. "Maybe I should have phoned," she murmured, shaking her head. "Why didn't I phone?"

David nibbled the cookie dough, not wanting to reply. He could just imagine what Francine would say. "Where were you?" he asked, so quietly she could pretend she hadn't heard if she wanted.

"Well..." Marigold paused, as if thinking. "I popped out, and then I thought I would meet up with some of the gang. And then there was this big party." She giggled, a little sheepishly. "You know how I like a party." She had started to do the fallen angel now, her slender fingers deft and skilled in spite of her hands shaking. "And then it got very late but I kept dancing and partying and I didn't come back to my girls and I was very bad," concluded Marigold, and she used one finger to smack the dough devil hard. "I was very, very, very bad. Bad Marigold. Take that!"

David chuckled, but Marigold seemed to pick up on his uncertainty and stared at him with her big emerald eyes. "Do you think I'm bad, my little David?"

"I think you're the most magical mother in the entire universe," he replied, truthfully and passionately. He dodged the actual question due to lack of answer.

The cookies were real works of art. The angels had elaborate hairstyles and long slender limbs. Marigold had made each feather on each wing exquisite. David ate his so quickly he burned his tongue, but it was delicious. Marigold was a terrific cook.

"All right," said Marigold happily, seeming to have forgotten about Francine (David was glad, he was certain she wouldn't eat the cookie). "We'll start on the cakes now."

David blinked uncertainly. "Cakes?"

"Yes, I want to make all sorts of cakes." Marigold replied, her eyes glittering green. "Angel cake and Devil cake, cheesecake and carrot cake and doughnuts and éclairs and every other cake you can think of." She licked her lips, obviously in another of her phases. Her eyes glittered so brightly they seemed to be green fireworks.

"But—" David started to protest, but Marigold cut him off.

"You like cakes, don't you?" she asked. It was impossible to read her voice or expression. Her eyes seemed to glow like emeralds, and David tried again timidly.

"Well, yes, I love cakes, it's just—"

"We'll make cakes," Marigold said, seeming to ignore his last two words. She got a new mixing bowl and David sighed. It would be useless to argue with her now.

So he helped her make cakes, and then decided to take a chance and brought a thick wedge of cheesecake (Francine's favorite type of cake) into Francine's bedroom. By now the big kiss thing had already happened, and Francine was sitting on her bed studying.

"Do you want have some?" David offered, holding it out to her. "I've had heaps already."

"I thought she'd baked cookies," Francine replied, accepting the large piece of cheesecake and eyeing it suspiciously. "She must have spent a fortune on all that kitchen stuff."

"I know," David sighed slightly. "She shouldn't have, but it was for us."

"You really are a fully paid-up member of the Marigold fan club, aren't you?" Francine asked spitefully. She bit the cheesecake. It was delicious. "I don't suppose she's thought to buy any normal food?"

"Who wants normal food?" David asked as Francine finished off the slice hungrily. "This is much more fun. Hey, remember that time last summer when it was so steaming hot and Marigold told us to open up the fridge and it was simply stuffed with ice cream? Wasn't that wonderful?"

"Yes I do, and we had to on stale bread and carrots for the rest of that week because she spent all the money," Francine reminded her, though she had the vaguest impression that she had gotten food from some other source which she couldn't remember. But that thought brushed against her mind, light as a feather, and vanished before she could consider it.

"Well, yeah, but it didn't matter because we also had the ice cream all week and it was lovely," replied David defiantly. "Just lovely. And anyway, you had made a game with the bread, remember? And Marigold carved the carrots. Don't you remember the totem pole? That was just brilliant. And the rude one!"

"And she ended up getting so hyped up and crazy she carved her thumb as well and she wouldn't even go to the hospital like a normal person would, although I suppose they could have easily sent her to an asylum. And it ended up getting all infected and she was really ill, remember, remember?" Francine hissed.

David had his hands on his ears since she said the word 'crazy', but Francine's voice wriggled through his fingers into his head. "Shut up, Fanny!" he shrieked.

Francine's eyes burned with rage and she got up. "I'm fed up eating this muck," she snarled, though she had been enjoying the cheesecake a minute ago. "I'm calling Natasha. I have things to say to her. Get out."

David scowled, but he obeyed.

"You what?!"

Nigel covered his ears. He hadn't remembered his friend Abigail Lincoln could yell so loudly. His four best friends (Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr., Kuki Sanban, Wallabee Beadles, and Abigail Lincoln) were staring at him as if he had just sprouted hair, and he couldn't blame them. "I kissed her," he repeated impatiently.

Wallabee's green eyes rolled to the back of his forehead and he pretended to faint. Hoagie did faint. Abigail glared at her boyfriend and Kuki hit hers on the head, eliciting a surprised yelp.

"Why?" asked Abigail, suddenly calm again. Her golden-brown eyes glimmered slightly with some unreadable emotion.

"I don't know!" Nigel cried, feeling very self-conscious and embarrassed. "We were just sitting so close...and our hands were touching...and I've liked her since I was five, and—"

"Hold up," snapped Abigail. "You've liked her since you were five, yet you're always arguing and she treats you like a slug and you treat her like a bomb. Why?"

"Well, she hates me! Listen, this is ridiculous. I'm just going to go over and tell her it was a mistake, she lives right next door, hopefully she won't hurt me too badly..."

"Wait," said Abigail sharply. "You don't know she hates you, she might just think you hate her. She has every reason to. Let me see if I can figure anything out."

"You. Kissed. Nigel. Uno." repeated Natasha Westward in disbelief. She was Francine's best friend, though nothing like her. She was also pale and slim, but she had very pale blonde hair like a white waterfall and eyes so dark they seemed to suck light from around them. She was much calmer than Francine, though when she got mad she was very intimidating. She hadn't changed much from when they were children, though her hair was shorter and she used to have an awful temper.

"Do you have to keep saying that?" snapped Francine, running a hand through her rippling red hair. Her sharp blue-green eyes flashed dangerously. "And technically, he kissed me."

"But you kissed back," Natasha reminded her.

"So what if I did?" Francine replied defensively. "You know I've had a crush on him since we were five, though I guess eight years is too long to really consider it a crush, but..."

"You're head over heels in love with him."

Francine's pale skin turned an amazing shade of cherry, but she scowled and her blush faded mercifully. "No, I don't!" she shouted in her Irish accent (yeah, I have to put in at least one reminder a chapter, in case people forget). "It's just that..." she trailed off helplessly, glancing at a bush nearby.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love him."

There was a long silence, and Francine kept her eyes on the bush as if she knew what was hiding inside. "I can't," she admitted finally, blushing hard. "But...he doesn't like me. He can't. It's just...just impossible."

She sighed. "This conversation has done nothing but severely depress me," she remarked. "I have studying to do."

Natasha nodded understandingly, an unreadable expression in her black eyes. "You should still tell him, though. I'm sure you have enough to worry about without hiding this as well."

"I can't," she replied sadly. "I just can't."