"The art of war is of vital importance to the State."

The first time Francine had opened up the book, she hadn't made it past the first sentence. Now she was picking it up for the second time, and she knew it backwards and forwards, and understood its principles perfectly, before she had even turned Page 1. It was weird, but exhilarating. Earlier in the day she had been stunned and bewildered by the presence of two sets of memories in her brain. Now it was fast becoming a thrilling adventure, as the Francine and Sue Ellen facets of her personality raced breathlessly to discover each other's secrets and insights. She expected that by the next morning, she would feel like one person again. But which person? She didn't really care.

As she sat on her bed, grounded, her nose sunk deeply into Sun Tzu's ancient text, her heart started to ache again for her missing parents, the Armstrongs. She couldn't decide whether she preferred them over the Frenskys, who were equally her parents, but such comparisons were futile, as the Armstrongs were gone forever.

She pondered what Sue Ellen might be going through. How was she reacting to the merger of her own personality with Francine's? How could Francine's memories possibly benefit her, given the type of life she led--a life of intrigue, cosmopolitanism, and rootlessness?

As she mused on the peculiar situation of the past two weeks, she heard the door to her apartment open. A second later, an aardvark face with glasses was peering at her from behind the bedroom door.

It was Arthur...the boy she loved...he had come...

Francine's heart pitterpattered. A small part of her insisted that it was strange and wrong, but the quality time she had spent with Sue Ellen's consciousness had mostly convinced her that being in love with Arthur wasn't entirely unreasonable.

"Uh, hi, Francine," said Arthur bashfully. "Um, about that, you know, I can explain..." He fidgeted anxiously with his glasses.

Francine motioned toward the empty space on the bed next to her. Arthur hesitantly came out from behind the bedroom door, and slowly sat down next to her, as if afraid that she would magically read all his embarrassing thoughts the moment his rear end made contact with the bedsheet.

"Well?" said Francine, smiling giddily. "Explain."

Arthur didn't turn to look at her, but began to wring his hands. "You must think I'm jealous," he said quietly. "But I'm not. Not really. If you want Van for your boyfriend, it's okay with me."

His words didn't ring true in Francine's mind at all. She was tempted to inform him about Muffy's scheme and the fact that she and Van were not truly an item, but she thought of a way to skirt the issue.

"Van's really nice," she said, gazing into the air. "I like being with him. I like kissing him. I know he's handicapped and all, but he can still do everything other people can do, as long as walking's not involved." She glanced over at Arthur, who had become visibly uneasy. She grinned nefariously. "Are you sure you're not jealous?"

"I'm not jealous!" Arthur suddenly snapped at her. Francine continued to grin, as if she didn't believe him in the slightest. "Okay," Arthur went on, lowering his eyes, "maybe I'm a little jealous."

"You totally freaked when you saw me kissing Van," Francine ribbed him. "I think you're more than a little jealous."

Arthur thought for a second, then started to nod weakly. "Okay, Francine, you got me. I was more than a little jealous. I was a lot jealous."

Francine's success emboldened her to take the next step. "Arthur, are you in love with me?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Arthur felt the air being sucked from his lungs. He struggled for breath. He had been a passenger on a jet plane more than once, and each time had pictured in his mind what a "loss of cabin pressure" might entail. This was it...but there were no oxygen masks...no emergency exits...

Francine slapped him repeatedly on the back. "Breathe, Arthur! Breathe!"

After a few seconds Arthur regained his composure. He still looked away from Francine, as if the sight of her face would not only empty his lungs again, but his stomach as well. "No," he muttered, "I'm not in love with you."

They sat in silence for about half a minute, and then Arthur worked up the courage to look Francine in the face again. "It's just that..." he began. "We've been friends for so long...I always figured we would grow up together, and someday we would fall in love and get married, and have kids and stuff. I...I thought you would never like another boy."

"Well, that's because I never liked any other boys," Francine rejoined. "Uh, I mean, until now. Until Van."

"I thought Van was part of that sisterhood thing of yours," said Arthur. "Why did you let him join if you were in love with him?"

It was the question Francine had hoped Arthur wouldn't ask. She had no choice now...

"Okay, I confess." Emotion filled Francine's voice. "That kiss with Van didn't mean anything. I just wanted to see if I could make you jealous. It was Muffy's suggestion. I'm not really in love with Van."

Arthur was startled by her admission. "Why did you want to make me jealous?" was his next question.

Francine turned her eyes away from him. "I...wanted to know if you had feelings for me. I guess you don't." A tear rolled down her left cheek. "I guess to you I'm just a girl who you might fall in love with someday."

Arther gazed at her speechlessly. She reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Having done so, she then placed her hands squarely on Arthur's shoulders. He winced when he felt the tear-moistened fingers rubbing against his sweater.

"For me, someday was a long time ago," Francine said plaintively. "I love you, Arthur. I always have. Even when I told you I didn't love you, I loved you."

A horrible realization dawned upon Arthur. He was about to lose his lunch all over a girl who had just proclaimed her love for him...

"Bathroom!" he blurted out. Francine almost fell over on her face when Arthur leaped from her bed and bolted from the room.

The lovesick girl pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. She heard unpleasant noises issuing from the bathroom. Maybe, she thought, they could make some progress after he had purged himself.

(To be continued...)