See, there's a thing about this fic that you have to understand. And that thing is that I love doing Spinelli's massively long inner monologues. She thinks a lot more than you'd expect she would. Even when she's fighting.

Oh, that's another thing. She hits people a lot. Especially T.J.

And now, it's time to talk about ownership, or my apparent lack of it. I don't own Ashley A, B, T, Q, or S, T.J., Ms. Finster, Randall, Vince, or Prickly. I own the nameless exchange student. That's about it.

Well, okay, this day sounds completely weird. And it is. I mean, Ashley B's walking around in a burlap bag, Ashley Q's walking around sucking up to teachers, Ashley T's making out with Randall, and Ashley A, well, she's just watching. For the moment, anyways. All my doing. And trust me, I'm getting THE biggest kick out of the Ashley T/Randall thing.

The stupid exchange student following me around, perfectly normal. Which brings me to my current predicament. That insinuates that there's more than one, doesn't it.

I'm making a deal with my rival, yep, that's totally normal.

"Bonjour mon amie Ashley," Guter or Guntag, or whatever the crap his lame name is, says.

Makes me want to strangle him.

And, you know what?

He's not even French.

Seriously, I think he's from Detroit.

The fact that he even dared to call me Ashley makes me hit him in the nose. Hard.

"What'd you do that for?" El Phonio Exchange Studento says, actually sounding surprised.

I roll my eyes. Seriously, how dumb was this kid?

"No one calls me Ashley and gets away with it," I snap, frustrated.

T.J. looks thoughtful, but I glare at him. He'd better not say a word.

I can still beat the crap out of him.

"Just leave me alone, Weirdo," I grunt.

He's shaking his head. What kind of moron is this "foreign" kid?

"Why should I?"

Did he actually just say that? To me? He'd better not have. T.J.'s looking awfully smug.

"Because she's my girlfriend, that's why," T.J. says in a threatening tone.

Oh brother.

I knew that was coming and still...

Oh brother.

Gunther Georgie Gutentager What's His Name looks suspicious. Heck, even he can see the rivalry.

"That's a lie."

He sounds pretty sure.

Now how can I make him unsure?

There's one way. But it's not pretty. And I don't think any of us will like it. Especially me. And T.J.

But, after kissing Vince twice in so few days, this has got to be better, right? Right?

Well, maybe better's not the operative word here. How about, it can't be worse? Yeah, that'll work.

T.J. is apparently making the first move. He's kissing me.

Not something I wanted to happen.

But, if it gets rid of Dorkavhich over there, I'm down with it. I guess I have to be.

Man, this brings back a lot of memories from forth and fifth grade. I don't know what to think.

Pierre Le Pew or whatever the Chicago native's name is, is, well, shocked. Out of his mind, I'm sure. Just what I was going for.

Ugh, finally, he's breaking this kiss. It's about time. I was just about to push the little groper off me.

And we all know how hard I push. Yay!

Exchange Kiddo's running away! Man, he's a real wuss. There is no way he's from Detroit. More like a retirement colony in Florida. Might explain that weird accent too.

Okay, I really don't like the way ole Teej is looking at me. It's creepy. And believe me, I've met the creepy people here and beat the crap out of them. Needless to say, there are no more creepy people here.

Crap. And that earsplitting screech is the bell. And while Ms. Finster is not teaching us, she somehow got a gig here watching us. Stupid Prickly.

Wait a second. Were T.J. and I having a moment? Ugh. I think I'm going to get sick. He looks kind of disappointed. Oh brother.

- Loren ;

So, T.J. and Spinelli kissed for the first time. Aww. How sweet. Now that's gotta elicit a review. C'mon... Please?