Priestess Aishisu: Yippee! Reviews!
g: this rox,but if it turns into a romeo and juliet ending some one's dyin'
Priestess Aishisu: In Romeo and Juliet they both died. All right, I'm just acting stupid. No Romeo and Juliet ending here, ppls!
Princess Rusty: NO! One should NOT tell her it was a mistake! He likes her, she likes him! This reminds me of when I was playing match maker for my (ten year old) neighbor. I failed miserably, but Jazzmyn liked Magnum and Magnum liked Jazzmyn, and it was so sad!
Well, I'm a big fan, so never stop!
Priestess Aishisu: I'll have to stop when the fanfiction ends!
strawberry lover!!!: Thats so true! LOL! Man, I havent read the book in a while now and I can just feel all the memories come back. Your character Natasha Westward reminds me of Beth from your other fic. Anyways, cool chapter. Peace!
StRaWbErRy LoVeR
Priestess Aishisu: Actually, Natasha Westward is...I can't tell you. Yet. Let's just say she isn't exactly an original character, but the character I based her on showed up for all of thirty seconds on the show.
Sammeh Teh CheeseCake: Aw, that's so sweet! They're in lurve!
I can't wait 'till the next chapter.
And don't worry, I've been working on a 1/86 fanfic since May .
Sammeh (Teh Biggest 1/86 Fan)
Priestess Aishisu: I hope that means it will be finished soon! Or at least the first chapter put up.
Lacey01: I only have one thing to say about this fic...I...I...I LOVE IT! Update real soon cause...well...you should! =DYay 1/86ness! loves it
Priestess Aishisu: Uhh...thanks.
The minute Francine sat down, Nigel knew something wasn't right. Her head was bent, her crimped red hair hiding her blue-green eyes. Her hands were trembling, and she didn't even seem to hear the teacher tell her off for being late. Not to mention that she had never been late before. Her beaded cardigan wasn't even buttoned right.
"Fanny?" He flinched when he said her name. That was the weirdest name ever, or nickname. But he was more worried by how pale she was. She didn't seem to hear him.
"Mister Uno, Miss Fulbright, care to tell me why you are speaking when class has already started?" the teacher asked sharply, but she was worried as well. Francine wasn't exactly the image of wellbeing.
"Um..." Nigel tried to think of a quick excuse to talk to her in private. "Fanny has a headache. She didn't eat last night and stayed up all night studying. Can I take her to the nurse?"
Francine glanced at him, startled. Then she winced because she really hadn't slept or eaten last night. Was he lying? To the teacher? Actually, neither was a lie, but he couldn't possibly know that. Could he?
The teacher seemed skeptical, but something was obviously wrong. "All right, Mister Uno," she conceded, handing them both hall passes. "Go strait to the nurse."
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her so hard she had to half-run just to keep her arm on.
Nigel made a sound somewhere between a relieved sigh and a frustrated groan as he slumped against the entrance of their school. "I just walked right out of school and no one even saw me," he muttered, then turned back to Francine. "What happened to you? You're a mess! Your cardigan isn't even buttoned!" He buttoned it for her, then pulled away and looked at her with real worry. "What happened, and does it have anything to do with your mom?"
Francine sighed. She didn't have the energy to fight today. "Well, you know how I was doing checklists on people I knew to see who displayed the most symptoms and...My mom fit too many. So I went on the internet and spent all night on this huge, advanced, comprehensive test made by about a gazillion psychiatrists. 95% chances are that she has it. More than a 100% are that she's officially demented. Either way..."
She couldn't continue, and tears slipped from her eyes. "Oh..." murmured Nigel. She was surprised when he hugged her, but she didn't pull away and instead wept gratefully into his shoulder. He didn't speak until she had stopped crying and wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry. I can guess how it must feel..." he stopped. He could guess, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't want to pretend.
Francine didn't seem to notice. She glared at the school. "I can't go back inside. I'll probably start crying—in front of people! But I can't go home, either. Not if Mom's there. What should I do?"
Nigel tried to think. He wouldn't be able to go to school either, and there seemed to be only one possible solution. Just yesterday he would never have believed he was offering this to her of all people, but...
"My parents both work. You can go to my house," he suggested. She raised her eyebrows, but suddenly smiled. It was her first smile for quite a time.
"All right. We'll go to your house."
"Nice place," remarked Francine, sounding stunningly calm as she removed her sneakers. "So, when will your parents get here? I don't want to get you in trouble."
Nigel lifted an eyebrow, but replied, "Relax, it's fine. They don't get home until five, and you'll have to leave by then. Are you hungry?"
When David exited school the next day, marigold was right there waiting for her. She was standing right next to the other mothers but she stuck out. Some kids blinked. Others pointed. Several whispered among themselves. Mothers stared with obvious alarm and some hostility. Fathers seemed either afraid or in awe.
For a moment it was as if he had borrowed a pair of thick glasses and was seeing Marigold clearly for the first time. He saw a vibrant-haired woman in a halter top and miniskirt and sandals, her clear white skin vividly tattooed. There were designs on her arms, her shoulders, her thighs. There was a daisy chain around her left ankle, with trailing fronds winding down her foot and ending with a perfect pink-tipped daisy. There was even a four-leaf clover on her right big toe.
David knew that several of the fathers had tattoos. One of the mothers was supposed to have a butterfly tattooed on her shoulder blade—but just a tiny one. No one had tattoos like Marigold.
She was beautiful.
She was bizarre.
She wasn't even aware that the mothers were avoiding her. She saw David and started jumping up and down, waving both arms in the air and yelling at the top of her lungs. "Dave! David, hi! Yoo-hoo!"
Now they weren't just staring at Marigold. They were staring at David. Feeling as if he were afire, he tried to smile at Marigold as he walked towards her. His lips seemed to get stuck on his teeth. He felt as if he were wading through syrup. "Dave, quick!" Marigold shouted, and he walked faster.
Marigold wanted to go meet Francine but he talked her out of it. He didn't realize that Francine was at Nigel's house. But he was aware that Francine would die of embarrassment if any of her friends met Marigold, especially in her wound-up state.
So they went to a river to feed ducks cake, and couldn't find ducks. So they made a house with the cake, using icing to stick it together and buttercup curtains. How was he to know it would take that much time?
Francine sighed as she glanced at the clock. "I have to leave. David's school ended a while ago. I'm supposed to be there in less than a minute. I am so lucky we live next door to each other."
"Too bad," replied Nigel. "I never thought time could fly by when I was studying."
Francine smiled slightly, gathering up her books. "Me neither. I guess it's because I need to know this stuff." She said this with more than just a hint of sadness in her eyes, and Nigel felt his heart weep for her. He hoped she didn't notice his sympathy. He just happened to be one of those idiots who liked being alive.
"Well, I guess I'd better leave." Nigel followed her all the way to the door, and she turned. She tilted her head, eyebrows lifted questioningly. Without thinking, he moved forward and his lips brushed against hers. It was a quick tiny kiss, but when Francine left and Nigel shut the door they were both blushing.
"Where are they?" shrieked Francine. It was half past five, and David and Marigold still weren't there. She had passed the time watching television, but she was going to lose her mind with worry if they didn't hurry up.
"Come on," she hissed, not even paying attention to the television. There were tears in her eyes again. "Come on...hurry up."
David and Marigold didn't get home until seven, and Francine didn't speak to either of them. She instead made a disgusted noise and stamped to her room. She covered her ears, but she could still hear the clink of Marigold's bottle. She was drinking again.
I should have just stayed with Nigel...what am I thinking? She shook her head hard. I don't like him! Not Nigel Uno! I've hated him since we were five!
If any other guy tried to kiss you, you would slap him in the face, a maliciously wise part of her mind pointed out. Nigel kissed you twice, and all you've done is blush.
Shut up, she hissed mentally. She gripped her pillow and hissed, "I don't like him...I don't...I'm going to open my eyes and wake up and convince myself I don't like Ni—Who am I kidding?!"
She flung her pillow at the wall with all her might. "I have a better chance of convincing Mom to quit drinking." With a sigh, she reached up on her shelf and got a small honey-colored teddy bear with velvet padded paws. Nigel had given it to her for her sixth birthday, and she secretly slept with it every night. Settling back in bed, she muttered, "This love stuff is so complicated."
David padded out of the bedroom. He went very carefully along the hall, putting the heel of one foot in front of the other's toes so he only moved one footlength at a time.
The kitchen light was still on so he walked even more slowly towards it. Marigold was sitting at the table still dressed, her head slumped and her mouth slightly open. She still had her hand cupped around her glass, but it was empty. So was the bottle.
"Mom?" he whispered, tugging her arm gently. It was very cold. "Mom, you have to get in bed. Please.
Marigold groaned but didn't reply. Her emerald eyes were half-open, red and unfocused. David knew there was absolutely no point persisting, so he went and got her quilt. He wrapped it around her and patted her icy hand. "Night night, sleep tight, make sure the bugs don't bite," he whispered. Then he returned to his bed.
Nigel was also getting in bed, his feelings like soup. He was shocked and thrilled and disbelieving and anxious and guilty and...
Just for the record, he wasn't technically spying. Or he hadn't intended to. He was just trying to make sure she was all right, and there she was having as close as she would ever get to a nervous breakdown. (Eh, wrong! But he doesn't know that.) He hadn't believed Abigail, but that little outburst was enough to convince him.
This love stuff is so complicated...He couldn't have said it better himself.