Weird.

(When life gives you psychotic hotties down the road, just nod and go with it.)

It's really interesting, you know, to live my life.

Demanding, exciting, frustrating, galvanizing, horrifying, and interesting.

I could re-write the alphabet to describe my life—even down to using 'zesty' for 'z'. Amusingly enough, (Hey, there's another one I could use!), it'd all be quite fitting, too.

Boy, if I ever say a psychologist, they'd pronounce me a nut-job; this is ridiculously strange—I'm talking to myself. Though, in retrospect, it's still better than talking to a coconut.

So, anyways.

One day, I'm trying to drown this guy with a canteen, then the next day, I find myself kissing him.

Now, notice anything strange? I mean besides that I tried to drown him using a canteen.

Hmmm… it seems to me that the 'love-hate' relationship is a very fine line. Yeah, maybe in those corny romance fairy-tales. Not with me. I'm a sensible, level-headed girl. Amorous relations with the enemy are bad.

'But they sell so well in romance novellas!', you may protest.

Well… That's all fine and dandy, but…

My life is no romance novel.

BELIEVE me when I say that sentence. In fact, in the game of love, I'm the damn towel-girl! Not even a benchwarmer. A. Towel. Girl.

So anyways. As of yesterday, my mentality was as such.

I only wanted to focus on two—hear me, two—things. Keeping tabs on a kid who goes by the (ridiculous) nickname of 'Avatar', and keeping a barely passing GPA.

Why watch over this Avatar kid?

Long story short…?

He just moved in next door. And he pissed off the boy a block away. He's now out to murder this boy. Have I mentioned that I abhor this punk-assed bastard who goes by the alias of Fire-Bender?

I swear. His friends drove a car into our mailbox! And he had the absolute gall to laugh.

Oh-h-h-h… I'm gonna' protect this kid just to spite him!

—He's an absolute bastard.

Zuko Ozai. Freaky name. Freaky boy. Freaky issues with being a pyro-manic nutjob.

But very, very attractive. Argh.

And I still haven't written my essay on The Scarlet Ibis!

xxxx

Watch and wait. Patience.

She's here. Perfect.

A stealthy leap down. Doesn't hear me. Twit. Grab her by the shoulder and spin her around with a dark smirk. "Nice weather we're having," I say emptily, before dragging her off and into my car, despite her frantic struggles.

"Now," I say, leaning back slightly after I lock the doors and stick the keys in the ignition.

xxxx

Oh, this is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

That freak-a-zoid Zuko just—just, jumped down from a tree, and forced me into his car! Ohgodohmygod. He's going to rape and kill me. I'll be the face on the milk carton! AAAAAAH!

I voice none of that, settling for screaming my head off and beating against the windows. Nobody's here. It's past dusk.

I knew I should have let Sokka to go buy the mushrooms. But no-o-o-o, "The supermarket is only around the corner, Sokka!"

AUGH! He's leaning closer to me.

…Oooh. He's sexy. But evil. Evil. Evil. Evil.

xxxx

"Evil. Evil. Evil," I hear her muttering when I lean in closer to her. I raise an eyebrow, containing an amused laugh. …Cute. But pointless.

"Tell me," I breath, "what do you know about me?"

She blinks, and furrows her eyebrows.

"You're a psychopathic loser who likes playing with lighters and matches, and have an obsession with vengeance on an innocent 12-year-old."

I shrug. "You do realize that the Avatar is my half-cousin?"

She whips her head around and stares at me. "Bull. Now let—me—out!"

I shake my head. "He tried to push me off a roof."

She pauses. "Oh. So you're not a psychopath who's out to get him for no reason?"

I grin slightly. "Obviously."

Then she rolls her eyes. "I don't buy it. You abducted me off the street. That spells psycho with a capital Psy."

I shrug. "Not my fault that every time I see you, you try to douse me with water. Hose, canteen, water balloon…"

She has the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

xxxx

He's not crazy?

Weird. Now what am I going to do in study hall, if I can't devise ways of soaking him down to see the shocked look on his face…?

xxxx

She's thinking hard. "Don't blow a fuse," I say lowly, smirking.

She smacks me on the arm. "Let me out the car, weirdo. You made your point."

I grin, and unlock the doors. Before she leaves, I catch her arm, and with on hand on her jaw, turn her gently until she faces me.

xxxx

What the—

"Mmph!"

He's kissing me! What the hell!

"Stop by. I'll take you for ice cream, 'kay?"

xxxx

Then I push her out gently, shut the door with a click, and drive off.

She's still standing there, looking shell-shocked.

And now she believes I'm not a psycho. So. Mental review.

Kiss the cute girl down the road? Check. Improve chances of revenge against brat who tried to key my car? Double-check.

… I'm so good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After-note: Come on. You didn't expect him to be a good boy, did you?