lyrasoze@hotmail.com
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Did you miss me?
Thanks as always to Lady A, Amanda and George for taking the
time to post all this fanfiction. Let's hear it for the wonderful
people who build and support all these sights!
And speaking of sites, guess who has one now? That's right, ME!!!
I am so terribly proud of myself. Anyway, go check it out, sign
my guest book, and so on and so forth.
http://www.geocities.com/lyra_2040/lyras_studio.html
To those who e-mail me, lots of love! And I have been getting some
*great* prom stories from you guys! To my beloved friends and
fellow Moonies Mary Ann, Skott and Corie...there are no words.
Jess, I *miss* you! And to Spring, the fabulous webmistress of
the Spring Library, who has handed the reigns over to Lady A,
you're the best!
'I is for Ink. Ink is good. Ink is fun. What can you do with Ink?
What rhymes with Ink? D-R-.....'
-Shel Silverstein 'Uncle Shelby's ABZ's'
Disclaimer - I don't own Sailor Moon. Big surprise. Big. Huge.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ = change in POV
-...- = thought
Operation: YES!!!
by Lyra Matsuoka
Rated PG
Chapter 2: Say What?
*~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~*
I honestly believe that there are no words for a situation
such as this. It isn't often that a guy drops to one knee, asks a
girl to Prom, and gets a chocolate malt dumped on his head in return
for his trouble. The fact that I wasn't being *completely* sincere when
I asked girl number 10...now, it was that kind of mentality that had
gotten me into this fix. If I had added just a dollop of honest
feeling to the last proposal, I probably wouldn't be covered in
melting chocolate ice cream. And I definitly wouldn't be the
laughing stock of the arcade. Well, I wasn't the laughing stock
yet, as no one was actually laughing. The whole place was filled
with kids gaping at me, waiting for some kind of a response. What
I needed now was damage control of the worst, or best, kind.
Reaching my hand up, I swiped a dollop of chocolate malt off my
cheek and tasted it.
"Well, Andrew, I am impressed. When did you learn to cook like
this?" I asked, flashing a smile at my best friends. Most of the arcade
laughed at this utterly ridiculous, and yet appropriate, comment, while
the others continued to gape. How could I blame them? A chocolate covered
student body president is not a run-of-the-mill occurance. So I smiled again,
a bit sheepishly this time, got off my knees, and turned back to Andrew.
"Perhaps that was a bit abrupt?" I murmured. Andrew nodded, and Chad
laughed outright. Greg just dropped his head onto his folded arms and shook
it back and forth. Andrew reached for a towel and handed it to me. I took it
and wiped my face and neck, then dragged the towel through my hair in an
attempt to clear the worst of the ice cream out of it. It was futile, but
I had to try. Giving up, I draped the towel around my neck and sighed.
Time to go home and reflect upon this incident. And exactly how I was
going to deal with it.
I happened to glance over at the cluster of girls which had
surrounded Serena just before I attempted (yet again) to aquire a date
for Prom. I honestly couldn't say who was more embarrassed. Me, complete
with the latest in Hershey's hairdo's, or those four girls, who were
simply staring at me in shock. A small wave broke the trance, but the
glazed look of utter stupification didn't quite leave their faces. I
shook my head again and groaned.
"Hey, man..." Chad started, but I waved him to silence.
"It's okay. I've got it covered," I responded. Waving farewell to
everyone in the arcade, including Serena's friends, I headed for the
door. Shower first, then plan of action. Shower, plan of action.
I hopped on my motorcycle, kicked the engine to life and roared
off down the street. I left my helmet off, as I was unwilling to wash
chocolate malt out of my leather padded helmet. Unfortunatly, this
choice left my head bare to scrutiny by the masses, and I got some odd
looks. I ignored them as best I was able, and that was fairly easy,
since most people just chalked me up to yet another teenage oddity.
And I wasn't in much danger, since the combination of preservatives
and dairy products on my head had solidified to the point that I
doubted an A-bomb would have made much of a dent.
The shower didn't help much. I entered my apartment building,
recieving a double take from the doorman, entered the elevator and
pressed the button, leaning back against the interior of the box.
I exited the elevator and walked to my apartment, going through the
motions of a normal evening. After spending half an hour, and a
great deal of shampoo, in the shower, I ordered out for pizza, and
attempted to unwind, flopping down on the couch. But I was unable
to relax. I thought, after nine rejections, that being rejected
one more time wouldn't matter much. But something about Serena's
rejection had sparked a challenge. For the first time, a girl had
put me in my place. And the worst of it was, Serena had been right!
I had been cocky and insincere. No self respecting female would have
taken me up on that proposal. So now I was faced with two choices.
1) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward my next proposal,
or 2) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward convincing
her to attend the Prom with me. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions.
Obviously, Serena expected me to opt for number 1 and give
up. Well, to hell with that. By the time I stepped out of the shower,
I had a plan. Serena was the girl. I would convince her to go to the
Prom with me no matter what. Neither of us had a date, so that
wasn't a concern, and I had two weeks to wear her down. Not only that,
I had money, which equaled the means to a relentless pursuit. What was
odd about my choice was how blatantly it disregarded any sense of
masculine pride. *Serena* had rejected *me*, and under diffferent
circumstances I would have let it be.
But this was different. She had no *reason* not to like me. I'd
never done anything to her...had I? No way, I would have remembered. Or
Greg or Chad would have rembered for me. So no, I'd never done anything
to her. And I will admit to being a little hurt by this particular
rejection. I had feelings, dammit! So, Serena wanted to play this way,
fine. This meant war.
*~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~*
I believe it took three minutes after leaving the arcade for the
full implication of what I had just done to sink in. I wasn't sorry, not
at all. Chiba had deserved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But no person
with an ounce of self respect would allow malt a la cranium to slide by,
especially not with an added dollop of public humiliation. And the fact
that Chiba was the student body god increased my chances of a vile and
horrific payback.
But I wasn't worried. Okay, so I was a bundle of jangling nerves, but
that was the adreniline rush. Or rather, me coming down off of the adreniline
rush. I was *not* afraid. No way, no how. Upwards of sixty people had seen me
turn the tables on Darien Chiba, and that was just enough to make certain
that the gossip mills ran for a few weeks. I knew that Chiba would be forced to
retaliate eventually, and God only knew that he had far more creative
ways to get even than I ever would. But I managed to banish that thought,
and the thought of the upcoming Prom, for a few more minutes, thinking only of
how utterly sweet revenge had been. I finally got home, mere moments before
my six o'clock check in. Not that my parents don't trust me, but they are
a little worried about me disappearing into the black of night. Odd, I know,
but what are ya gonna do?
So I stepped through the door of my house and into chaos. The phone
ringing, 'Final Fantasy XX' blaring on the TV, my mom yelling at Sammy to
turn his game down, and my dad attempting to hear what was being said on
the nightly news report through the tinny speakers of our itty bitty
kitchen television box.
"I'm home," I announced, making certain that my mother saw me,
so as to avoid punishment in the near future. I got a spatula gesture in
return for my troubles, so I stopped attempting communication and headed
upstairs to my room. Peace and quiet were sure to await me there...until
I saw the rapidly blinking light on my answering machine. My darling
parentals had caved on my sixteenth birthday, allowing me my own phone
line. So, I had splurged some of my birthday money on an answering machine,
a descision I had never regretted. I counted the flashes. 1, 2, 3, 4. Wow.
It was a busy day if I got even one message. So I smiled and hit the 'Play'
button while I changed out of my school clothes and reached for my casual
pink skirt.
'Hello, this is Serena's microwave. Her answering machine just eloped
with her tape deck, so I'm stuck taking her calls. If you'd like anything
cooked while you leave your message, just hold it up to the phone.'
'Serena, *why* do you find that amusing? Raye here. Do you have *any*
idea what you have done?! Darien Chiba asked you to the Prom and you dumped
a milkshake on his head! Are you nuts?!?! Don't bother answering that, I
already know that you are. My best friend is a bonafide psychopath! Call me
tonight. We have to talk.' BEEP.
'Serena, Mina. The gossip mills are in motion, babe! You have just done
what I considered to be impossible. You have turned the gossip machine on
Darien Chiba! I salute you. You are my hero! Call me!' BEEP
'Serena, this is Amy...and Lita! The world wants to know, how did it
feel to create the first Chiba sundae? Lita...stop that. Serena, what did he
say to you? LITA! Serena, call me...us, call us. I'm at Lita's.' BEEP
I shook my head as I slipped my pink skirt and a white top on. Raye
was probably right. I was probably nuts. But it felt so good to be crazy...
The last beep on my machine pulled me out if my self satisfaction.
'Serena? Hi. This is Darien,'
I stopped dead in my tracks.
'I realize we got off to a bad start, and I was hoping that you'd
allow me the opportunity to correct that. A proverbial second chance if
you will. Forgive me my unforgivably rude actions today, and allow me
to begin anew'
I slowly turned my head around, eying the answering machine as
though it were a bomb.
'I'll see you at school tomorrow. Later.' BEEP
And that was it. I was left with a very cryptic message, a sense
of the surreal, and four best friends who thought I was crazy. After
that message, I wasn't all together convinced they were wrong. But I
didn't feel crazy. What I felt was nervous. Darien Chiba didn't just
call girls up and ask for a second chance. Why was he bothering with
me? I was a nobody. So what was Chiba planning? This had all the
earmarkings of trouble, and I sensed it. I decided not to return his
call. Petty and rude, but I'd do it anyway. Chiba wanted to talk to me,
he could talk to me in person, tomorrow!
I felt an absurd desire to tack 'under the willow trees. Bring your
dueling pistols and your sword' onto the end of that thought. I needed to
get out more.
I realized then that Darien hadn't left a phone number. All the
better. A ready made excuse not to call back. I probably could have
found his number, but calling every girl in my grade didn't make a great
deal of sense, and besides, I could smell dinner. So I tripped downstairs
and pretended that my day had gone well.
I didn't return any phone calls. My friends would be miffed, but
getting used to disappointment is a lesson we must all learn. So I played
'Final Fantasy' Number Four Million Three Thousand and Fifty Two with my
brother and helped my mom bake chocolate chip cookies. Well, she baked,
I ate cookie dough, but I did provide companionship. I tumbled into bed,
breathing in the scent of fabric softener as I drifted off; and I dreamed
of an impossibly blue sky; a sky of a hue that only existed in Darian
Chiba's eyes.
*~*~*~*~*Next Day*~*~*~*~*
Music. There was music playing. Loudly. Next to my ear. Ahhh.
Alarm clock. Well, that was all right then. I rolled over and slapped
ineffectivaly at my radio alarm. It didn't shut off. Stoneage piece
of junk. I tried to drift off again, but the sound of the DJ's voice
forced me awake, reeling off the weather report, a few fascinating
local events, and then moving on to the real important stuff...Teenage
Calendar.
"Well, looks like Prom is coming right up! Everybody got their
dresses or tuxes, their corsages and dinner reservations? Most
importantly, have you got a *date*? Cause I know one guy who doesn't,
and one girl that's gonna be happy today. Mr. Bluebird, get ready to
sit on a certain shoulder. Hey, Serena Tsukino? You there? I really
hope so, cause some lucky guy wants to ask you to Prom! Friends, call
Serena, tell her to tune in. You've got thirty seconds."
I sat up, staring at my alarm clock. So, this was Darien's revenge.
Clever, very clever. I groaned, and buried myself under mounds of pillows.
This was not happening. Okay, thirty seconds. Who would it be? Raye, Amy,
Lita or...RING!!!
I reached for the phone, halfheartedly at best.
"Serena, Mina! Turn on your radio right now! Now, girl! MOVE!!!
See you at school." Click. Whirlwind Mina strikes another peaceful
suburban residance. Back came the DJ. I sat up in bed.
"Serena, I hope you are there. I've got a lovely card in my hand.
Lemme just read it for the listening pleasures of our entire audience.
You don't mind, do you?"
I wondered briefly if there was a force in the cosmos powerful
enough to stop him.
"Dearest Serena,"
-Just say the name.-
"Would you do me the extreme honor of attending the Prom with me?"
-Simple enough. Just say the name.-
"I could not possible attend if you were not on my arm. I offer
nothing but a fabulous meal, a limosine for two and the world at your feet."
-Say the name!! There is a slim chance that I am wrong about this,
and if I am then I want to hear it. I don't want to shoot the wrong guy.-
"Your faithful servant, Darien Chiba."
-Damn.-
I could practically hear Mina's scream across town. I wasn't the
least interested in what any of my friends had to say. So I took my phone
off the hook and buried it under three throw pillows and my comfortor.
This was ridiculous! I was annoyed, and I was seriously considering
staying in bed for the rest of my adolescent life. But the DJ wasn't
through with me.
"How about it, Serena? Make a guy happy! And keep us posted."
Posted? I'd keep him posted all right. I'd post him right up
the...wait. Posted? Post...
My halo was knocked askew by the little horns that sprang out
of my head. Of course I had no intention of saying yes. This 'proposal',
for lack of a better term, was just as insulting as the last. So it called
for a little something extra. No milkshakes were handy, but I'd do without.
I had another plan. I went to my closet and pulled out one of my cutest
outfits. I dressed and went downstairs to get Sammy's markers, a positively
wicked smile on my face.
*~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~*
Even I was forced to admit that the DJ had done a nice job. He had
read the card with a certain finesse, and now, as I saw it, Serena had two
options. Say yes and be embarrassed by the way she was asked, or say no and
be embarrassed for saying no. But the little voice in the back of my head
added a third. She could retaliate in some horrible way. Not in a repeat
of the milkshake-on-head; she was too creative for that. The more I thought
about it, the more all three options appealed to me. Win-Win. After all, I
had quite a few surprises left for Ms. Tsukino, and I really
wanted to try some of them out.
My morning had begun rather early, as I was forced out of bed
at a rather obnoxious hour so that I could get the card in to the radio
station and talk to the DJ before he went on the air. So I was sitting in
a jazzy coffee house sipping on a cappuchino and wolfing down a gigantic
chocolate muffin when I heard the announcement. Well, this was lovely. So I
headed off to school, a smile on my face. Things were going just according
to plan, and I was rather pleased withmyself. I wondered how Serena was going
to react this time.
I didn't have to wonder long. Our school is a fairly large place,
but there is one spot where every student must pass every day. The front
entry. This marble monstrosity is located right in the middle of an
incredibly busy street, and is absolutely impossible to miss. By the
time I got to school, almost every student was arriving. And the front
entryway was blocked by a large group of gawking students, all of them
staring up. I stopped and stared at them. Someone near the back saw me,
and very quickly spread the word. Soon everyone was looking at
me rather than up. So I looked up.
And what should I see but a large piece of butcher paper strung
across the top of the entry for all and sundry to see. Not that there
was much danger of anyone missing it, since the letters were rather
large and in various shades of red.
NOT A CHANCE, CHIBA.
I had to hand it to her. This was inspired. I was very appriciative
and amused. And I let it show by smiling broadly at the group of students
watching me eagerly. Everyone wanted to see what I would do. I chuckled
for their benefit and headed into the school building. I resisted the
urge to rub my hands together in a thoroughly evil fashion. So, she'd
taken the prize behind door number three. Goodie.
I had not yet begun to fight.
*~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~*
I sank into my first hour seat with a delighted sigh. After
coloring my fingers to the bone and nearly killing myself hanging that
sign (though I'd enlisted Lita's reluctant help with that task) I was
looking forward to simply sitting down and taking mindless notes for
50 minutes.
Alas, it was not to be.
Everyone in school listens to that blasted radio station.
And everyone knew that Darien had asked 'Serena' to the Prom.
There is only one Serena in our entire school. Lucky, lucky me.
And what was odd was that all the girls seemed to think that I
*was* lucky. Of course, had I been an observer, instead of the
unfortunate victim of these events, I probably would have seen
it as romantic and wonderful as well.
And to make my life even more glamorous, the story of my
dramatic malt disposal on Chiba's head had spread to the far
reaches of the school. Oh, joy.
And due to my reckless behavior (and the sign I had strung across
the front entry of our school) every girl in my homeroom was now my
*very* best friend. And they let me know how much they cared by
clustering around my desk and asking questions in a garbled fashion.
I just smiled and nodded. The true secret to a happy existance:
just smile and nod.
RING!
Saved by the bell.
My new following headed reluctantly for their respective desks,
and the teacher began role call. I began to relax. Big mistake. Big.
Huge.
"Serena."
"Present."
"And attending Prom, I hear," my teacher said, winking at me.
Oh, God. Now, my homeroom teacher is a nice enough person as teachers
go, but she trained as a preschool-kindergarten teacher, and had taken
the position at the high school only until a position opened up in the
primary grades. Hence the winking, smiling, and generally cheery
attitude.
"Not attending. She's been asked twice, by the same guy, and
she's said no both times!"
I resisted the urge to turn about and locate the traitorous
girl who had opened her mouth. I simply stared straight ahead,
refusing to participate in this discussion.
"But Darien Chiba asked her this morning," my teacher said,
bewildered. "I heard it on the radio."
"He asked her yesterday, too!"
And the peaceful homeroom was shattered by gossip. I opened
my notebook to write a complaint to the student council while various
tidbits about my love life flew around me. My teacher was aghast at
the idea that anyone would turn Darien Chiba down. I was halfway
through my complaint when I realized that Chiba was the President
of the Student Council. I tore out the letter and crumpled it up.
I was about to attempt a three-point shot into the trashcan when
the intercom chimed to life.
I smoothed out my crumpled sheet of paper and began drawing
while the date and lunch menu were read. I doodled through
announcements concerning various clubs, and through soccer,
track, and baseball announcements. The boring voice of the
principal bid us good day, and on came a smooth, sexy
personality that I was beginning to despise. I pretended
not to notice.
"Good morning! This is your student body president."
My entire class swiveled to gauge my reaction. I just smiled
serenely. He hadn't quit after being brained with a milkshake, but
the sign was sure to call a halt to this ridiculous, and insulting,
pursuit. So I had nothing to be worried about.
Chiba went on for a while, reporting the senior class fundraiser,
performance dates of the senior class play, and then he moved on to
more important matters. Namely, the Prom. Decoration commitee,
refreshments, pictures, and so on and so on. Having heard all this
a million times before, and it not being relevant to my life, I tuned
it out.
"And finally, the most important question of all. Do you have
a date?"
Most girls in my class nodded, a few shrugged. I was the only
one who didn't react at all.
"Cause I don't."
I froze. Every other girl made symathetic sounds in the back of
their throats, an endeavor I did not undertake. I pretended not to
notice the little shivers that walked up and down my spine at the
sound of his voice.
"That's right. I, your student body president, do not have a
date for the Prom. And in spite of numerous attempts to correct that
situation, I have remained dateless. However, I remain undaunted."
- No way. It's simply not possible that he would try again. I
am worrying for nothing. -
But a little part of me was disappointed. Okay, a big part
of me. I *really* wanted to go to Prom, just not with a guy who
was so utterly insulting. Even if he did have amazingly
blue eyes and a sexy smile. I worried for nothing.
"How about it, Serena? I've got the tux if you've got the time.
Have a nice day, all!"
I stared at the intercom. The class stared at me. When I made
no move to respond, my teacher broke the silence.
"Yes, well..." she trailed off. The bell chimed again, signaling
the end of homeroom. I grabbed my bag, and was nearly out the door
when the intercom buzzed to life again.
"I've also got a limosine and reservations for dinner. What do
you say, Serena?"
I glared at the intercom, turned around, grabbed an eraser from
the chalk tray and threw it at the hapless intercom. It came back down
in a suffocating cloud of chalk dust, which I did not have to choke
through because I was already stalking down the hall. Now I
refused on principal. Resistance had become duty. I swore that I
heard the national anthem playing in the background as I walked to
my next class.
It didn't stop with the intercom message. A heart shaped box of
chocolates on my desk in Spanish. My favorite kind, of course. A
bouquet of pink, white, and baby blue balloons in my history class
anchored by a large white teddy bear, which was actually rather
adorable. My history class thought I should say yes. So did my
Spanish class. I thought that one of my friends had turned traitor.
How had he known about the chocolates? And balloons in my favorite
colors anchored by my favorite type of stuffed animal was just too
perfect. So I began formulating an evil plot to get even with
whichever one of my friends was batting for the other team.
The near breaking point that Chiba had no doubt been waiting
for occured during phys ed. And it was so subtle that I hardly
knew what hit me. I had dressed down and was about to head for
the gym when a girl in my class came up to me and handed my a
paper heart, folded in two. I opened it, to read one word...
Please? And it was written in little hearts.
Oh, man! He was not playing fair! He didn't get to be nice!
Chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals, those were all fair game.
With a little strength of character, I could handle those. All
I had to do was remember those blue eyes mocking me in the arcade.
But he was not allowed to be sweet!
That thought kept me blazing through the day. Well, near the
end I wasn't actually blazing. I was gimping along, my bag full of
books, chocolate, and paper heart in one hand, my teddy bear in the
other, with the balloons trailing along behind me. I was entertaining
the idea of returning the gifts in plain view of the school when I
reached my locker. With my free hand I reached to twist the combination
into the padlock, and when the lock gave way, I swung the metal door
open.
I put my history book and Spanish flashcards in my locker,
and pushed the door shut, anticipating a rather embarrasing ride
home. It is not everyday that one sees a girl walking down the
street laden with a large teddy bear. And, of course, some wise
a$$ would ask me *why* I was carrying a giant teddy bear down
the street. And then I would have to choose. Either I would
be kind and polite and answer the moron's question, or I
would drop my teddy bear on the street, tackle the jerk
and install him/her as a permanent fixture on the nearest
telephone pole. Probably with a staple gun. A blue staple gun.
Maybe this hapless victim would have dark hair, sexy eyes
and an extremely kissable mouth.
Waking myself, I resisted the urge to kick my locker.
I settled for just slamming it shut. And when I turned around,
my fantasies came to life. My six foot two inch, black haired,
blue eyed, annoying, frustrating, baffeling, sexy, amazing,
incredible, drop dead gorgeous fantasy sprang out of my
daydreams and into the space in front of me. I wasn't sure
whether to smack him or throw the teddy bear at him. I did
neither.
I dropped the teddy bear, balloons, my bag and looked
right at him. He looked back, a slight smile on his lips. He
looked sincere and sweet and open and charming. And
I did the only thing I could think of at the time.
I closed the miniscule distance between us, looked up at
him, and with the memory of that paper heart in mind, I reached
my arms up, looped them around the student body president's neck,
pulled him down to my level, and pressed my lips to his.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So, whatcha think? Mail me and lemme know! *Lyra hugs her
laptop* I love this thing! Not only can I check my email
anywhere that has a telephone line, but I get to pick
my own wallpaper! I currently have the manga picture of
Sailor Pluto from Act 18 of the manga up. I just love it!
lyrasoze@hotmail.com
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Did you miss me?
Thanks as always to Lady A, Amanda and George for taking the
time to post all this fanfiction. Let's hear it for the wonderful
people who build and support all these sights!
And speaking of sites, guess who has one now? That's right, ME!!!
I am so terribly proud of myself. Anyway, go check it out, sign
my guest book, and so on and so forth.
http://www.geocities.com/lyra_2040/lyras_studio.html
To those who e-mail me, lots of love! And I have been getting some
*great* prom stories from you guys! To my beloved friends and
fellow Moonies Mary Ann, Skott and Corie...there are no words.
Jess, I *miss* you! And to Spring, the fabulous webmistress of
the Spring Library, who has handed the reigns over to Lady A,
you're the best!
'I is for Ink. Ink is good. Ink is fun. What can you do with Ink?
What rhymes with Ink? D-R-.....'
-Shel Silverstein 'Uncle Shelby's ABZ's'
Disclaimer - I don't own Sailor Moon. Big surprise. Big. Huge.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ = change in POV
-...- = thought
Operation: YES!!!
by Lyra Matsuoka
Rated PG
Chapter 2: Say What?
*~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~*
I honestly believe that there are no words for a situation
such as this. It isn't often that a guy drops to one knee, asks a
girl to Prom, and gets a chocolate malt dumped on his head in return
for his trouble. The fact that I wasn't being *completely* sincere when
I asked girl number 10...now, it was that kind of mentality that had
gotten me into this fix. If I had added just a dollop of honest
feeling to the last proposal, I probably wouldn't be covered in
melting chocolate ice cream. And I definitly wouldn't be the
laughing stock of the arcade. Well, I wasn't the laughing stock
yet, as no one was actually laughing. The whole place was filled
with kids gaping at me, waiting for some kind of a response. What
I needed now was damage control of the worst, or best, kind.
Reaching my hand up, I swiped a dollop of chocolate malt off my
cheek and tasted it.
"Well, Andrew, I am impressed. When did you learn to cook like
this?" I asked, flashing a smile at my best friends. Most of the arcade
laughed at this utterly ridiculous, and yet appropriate, comment, while
the others continued to gape. How could I blame them? A chocolate covered
student body president is not a run-of-the-mill occurance. So I smiled again,
a bit sheepishly this time, got off my knees, and turned back to Andrew.
"Perhaps that was a bit abrupt?" I murmured. Andrew nodded, and Chad
laughed outright. Greg just dropped his head onto his folded arms and shook
it back and forth. Andrew reached for a towel and handed it to me. I took it
and wiped my face and neck, then dragged the towel through my hair in an
attempt to clear the worst of the ice cream out of it. It was futile, but
I had to try. Giving up, I draped the towel around my neck and sighed.
Time to go home and reflect upon this incident. And exactly how I was
going to deal with it.
I happened to glance over at the cluster of girls which had
surrounded Serena just before I attempted (yet again) to aquire a date
for Prom. I honestly couldn't say who was more embarrassed. Me, complete
with the latest in Hershey's hairdo's, or those four girls, who were
simply staring at me in shock. A small wave broke the trance, but the
glazed look of utter stupification didn't quite leave their faces. I
shook my head again and groaned.
"Hey, man..." Chad started, but I waved him to silence.
"It's okay. I've got it covered," I responded. Waving farewell to
everyone in the arcade, including Serena's friends, I headed for the
door. Shower first, then plan of action. Shower, plan of action.
I hopped on my motorcycle, kicked the engine to life and roared
off down the street. I left my helmet off, as I was unwilling to wash
chocolate malt out of my leather padded helmet. Unfortunatly, this
choice left my head bare to scrutiny by the masses, and I got some odd
looks. I ignored them as best I was able, and that was fairly easy,
since most people just chalked me up to yet another teenage oddity.
And I wasn't in much danger, since the combination of preservatives
and dairy products on my head had solidified to the point that I
doubted an A-bomb would have made much of a dent.
The shower didn't help much. I entered my apartment building,
recieving a double take from the doorman, entered the elevator and
pressed the button, leaning back against the interior of the box.
I exited the elevator and walked to my apartment, going through the
motions of a normal evening. After spending half an hour, and a
great deal of shampoo, in the shower, I ordered out for pizza, and
attempted to unwind, flopping down on the couch. But I was unable
to relax. I thought, after nine rejections, that being rejected
one more time wouldn't matter much. But something about Serena's
rejection had sparked a challenge. For the first time, a girl had
put me in my place. And the worst of it was, Serena had been right!
I had been cocky and insincere. No self respecting female would have
taken me up on that proposal. So now I was faced with two choices.
1) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward my next proposal,
or 2) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward convincing
her to attend the Prom with me. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions.
Obviously, Serena expected me to opt for number 1 and give
up. Well, to hell with that. By the time I stepped out of the shower,
I had a plan. Serena was the girl. I would convince her to go to the
Prom with me no matter what. Neither of us had a date, so that
wasn't a concern, and I had two weeks to wear her down. Not only that,
I had money, which equaled the means to a relentless pursuit. What was
odd about my choice was how blatantly it disregarded any sense of
masculine pride. *Serena* had rejected *me*, and under diffferent
circumstances I would have let it be.
But this was different. She had no *reason* not to like me. I'd
never done anything to her...had I? No way, I would have remembered. Or
Greg or Chad would have rembered for me. So no, I'd never done anything
to her. And I will admit to being a little hurt by this particular
rejection. I had feelings, dammit! So, Serena wanted to play this way,
fine. This meant war.
*~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~*
I believe it took three minutes after leaving the arcade for the
full implication of what I had just done to sink in. I wasn't sorry, not
at all. Chiba had deserved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But no person
with an ounce of self respect would allow malt a la cranium to slide by,
especially not with an added dollop of public humiliation. And the fact
that Chiba was the student body god increased my chances of a vile and
horrific payback.
But I wasn't worried. Okay, so I was a bundle of jangling nerves, but
that was the adreniline rush. Or rather, me coming down off of the adreniline
rush. I was *not* afraid. No way, no how. Upwards of sixty people had seen me
turn the tables on Darien Chiba, and that was just enough to make certain
that the gossip mills ran for a few weeks. I knew that Chiba would be forced to
retaliate eventually, and God only knew that he had far more creative
ways to get even than I ever would. But I managed to banish that thought,
and the thought of the upcoming Prom, for a few more minutes, thinking only of
how utterly sweet revenge had been. I finally got home, mere moments before
my six o'clock check in. Not that my parents don't trust me, but they are
a little worried about me disappearing into the black of night. Odd, I know,
but what are ya gonna do?
So I stepped through the door of my house and into chaos. The phone
ringing, 'Final Fantasy XX' blaring on the TV, my mom yelling at Sammy to
turn his game down, and my dad attempting to hear what was being said on
the nightly news report through the tinny speakers of our itty bitty
kitchen television box.
"I'm home," I announced, making certain that my mother saw me,
so as to avoid punishment in the near future. I got a spatula gesture in
return for my troubles, so I stopped attempting communication and headed
upstairs to my room. Peace and quiet were sure to await me there...until
I saw the rapidly blinking light on my answering machine. My darling
parentals had caved on my sixteenth birthday, allowing me my own phone
line. So, I had splurged some of my birthday money on an answering machine,
a descision I had never regretted. I counted the flashes. 1, 2, 3, 4. Wow.
It was a busy day if I got even one message. So I smiled and hit the 'Play'
button while I changed out of my school clothes and reached for my casual
pink skirt.
'Hello, this is Serena's microwave. Her answering machine just eloped
with her tape deck, so I'm stuck taking her calls. If you'd like anything
cooked while you leave your message, just hold it up to the phone.'
'Serena, *why* do you find that amusing? Raye here. Do you have *any*
idea what you have done?! Darien Chiba asked you to the Prom and you dumped
a milkshake on his head! Are you nuts?!?! Don't bother answering that, I
already know that you are. My best friend is a bonafide psychopath! Call me
tonight. We have to talk.' BEEP.
'Serena, Mina. The gossip mills are in motion, babe! You have just done
what I considered to be impossible. You have turned the gossip machine on
Darien Chiba! I salute you. You are my hero! Call me!' BEEP
'Serena, this is Amy...and Lita! The world wants to know, how did it
feel to create the first Chiba sundae? Lita...stop that. Serena, what did he
say to you? LITA! Serena, call me...us, call us. I'm at Lita's.' BEEP
I shook my head as I slipped my pink skirt and a white top on. Raye
was probably right. I was probably nuts. But it felt so good to be crazy...
The last beep on my machine pulled me out if my self satisfaction.
'Serena? Hi. This is Darien,'
I stopped dead in my tracks.
'I realize we got off to a bad start, and I was hoping that you'd
allow me the opportunity to correct that. A proverbial second chance if
you will. Forgive me my unforgivably rude actions today, and allow me
to begin anew'
I slowly turned my head around, eying the answering machine as
though it were a bomb.
'I'll see you at school tomorrow. Later.' BEEP
And that was it. I was left with a very cryptic message, a sense
of the surreal, and four best friends who thought I was crazy. After
that message, I wasn't all together convinced they were wrong. But I
didn't feel crazy. What I felt was nervous. Darien Chiba didn't just
call girls up and ask for a second chance. Why was he bothering with
me? I was a nobody. So what was Chiba planning? This had all the
earmarkings of trouble, and I sensed it. I decided not to return his
call. Petty and rude, but I'd do it anyway. Chiba wanted to talk to me,
he could talk to me in person, tomorrow!
I felt an absurd desire to tack 'under the willow trees. Bring your
dueling pistols and your sword' onto the end of that thought. I needed to
get out more.
I realized then that Darien hadn't left a phone number. All the
better. A ready made excuse not to call back. I probably could have
found his number, but calling every girl in my grade didn't make a great
deal of sense, and besides, I could smell dinner. So I tripped downstairs
and pretended that my day had gone well.
I didn't return any phone calls. My friends would be miffed, but
getting used to disappointment is a lesson we must all learn. So I played
'Final Fantasy' Number Four Million Three Thousand and Fifty Two with my
brother and helped my mom bake chocolate chip cookies. Well, she baked,
I ate cookie dough, but I did provide companionship. I tumbled into bed,
breathing in the scent of fabric softener as I drifted off; and I dreamed
of an impossibly blue sky; a sky of a hue that only existed in Darian
Chiba's eyes.
*~*~*~*~*Next Day*~*~*~*~*
Music. There was music playing. Loudly. Next to my ear. Ahhh.
Alarm clock. Well, that was all right then. I rolled over and slapped
ineffectivaly at my radio alarm. It didn't shut off. Stoneage piece
of junk. I tried to drift off again, but the sound of the DJ's voice
forced me awake, reeling off the weather report, a few fascinating
local events, and then moving on to the real important stuff...Teenage
Calendar.
"Well, looks like Prom is coming right up! Everybody got their
dresses or tuxes, their corsages and dinner reservations? Most
importantly, have you got a *date*? Cause I know one guy who doesn't,
and one girl that's gonna be happy today. Mr. Bluebird, get ready to
sit on a certain shoulder. Hey, Serena Tsukino? You there? I really
hope so, cause some lucky guy wants to ask you to Prom! Friends, call
Serena, tell her to tune in. You've got thirty seconds."
I sat up, staring at my alarm clock. So, this was Darien's revenge.
Clever, very clever. I groaned, and buried myself under mounds of pillows.
This was not happening. Okay, thirty seconds. Who would it be? Raye, Amy,
Lita or...RING!!!
I reached for the phone, halfheartedly at best.
"Serena, Mina! Turn on your radio right now! Now, girl! MOVE!!!
See you at school." Click. Whirlwind Mina strikes another peaceful
suburban residance. Back came the DJ. I sat up in bed.
"Serena, I hope you are there. I've got a lovely card in my hand.
Lemme just read it for the listening pleasures of our entire audience.
You don't mind, do you?"
I wondered briefly if there was a force in the cosmos powerful
enough to stop him.
"Dearest Serena,"
-Just say the name.-
"Would you do me the extreme honor of attending the Prom with me?"
-Simple enough. Just say the name.-
"I could not possible attend if you were not on my arm. I offer
nothing but a fabulous meal, a limosine for two and the world at your feet."
-Say the name!! There is a slim chance that I am wrong about this,
and if I am then I want to hear it. I don't want to shoot the wrong guy.-
"Your faithful servant, Darien Chiba."
-Damn.-
I could practically hear Mina's scream across town. I wasn't the
least interested in what any of my friends had to say. So I took my phone
off the hook and buried it under three throw pillows and my comfortor.
This was ridiculous! I was annoyed, and I was seriously considering
staying in bed for the rest of my adolescent life. But the DJ wasn't
through with me.
"How about it, Serena? Make a guy happy! And keep us posted."
Posted? I'd keep him posted all right. I'd post him right up
the...wait. Posted? Post...
My halo was knocked askew by the little horns that sprang out
of my head. Of course I had no intention of saying yes. This 'proposal',
for lack of a better term, was just as insulting as the last. So it called
for a little something extra. No milkshakes were handy, but I'd do without.
I had another plan. I went to my closet and pulled out one of my cutest
outfits. I dressed and went downstairs to get Sammy's markers, a positively
wicked smile on my face.
*~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~*
Even I was forced to admit that the DJ had done a nice job. He had
read the card with a certain finesse, and now, as I saw it, Serena had two
options. Say yes and be embarrassed by the way she was asked, or say no and
be embarrassed for saying no. But the little voice in the back of my head
added a third. She could retaliate in some horrible way. Not in a repeat
of the milkshake-on-head; she was too creative for that. The more I thought
about it, the more all three options appealed to me. Win-Win. After all, I
had quite a few surprises left for Ms. Tsukino, and I really
wanted to try some of them out.
My morning had begun rather early, as I was forced out of bed
at a rather obnoxious hour so that I could get the card in to the radio
station and talk to the DJ before he went on the air. So I was sitting in
a jazzy coffee house sipping on a cappuchino and wolfing down a gigantic
chocolate muffin when I heard the announcement. Well, this was lovely. So I
headed off to school, a smile on my face. Things were going just according
to plan, and I was rather pleased withmyself. I wondered how Serena was going
to react this time.
I didn't have to wonder long. Our school is a fairly large place,
but there is one spot where every student must pass every day. The front
entry. This marble monstrosity is located right in the middle of an
incredibly busy street, and is absolutely impossible to miss. By the
time I got to school, almost every student was arriving. And the front
entryway was blocked by a large group of gawking students, all of them
staring up. I stopped and stared at them. Someone near the back saw me,
and very quickly spread the word. Soon everyone was looking at
me rather than up. So I looked up.
And what should I see but a large piece of butcher paper strung
across the top of the entry for all and sundry to see. Not that there
was much danger of anyone missing it, since the letters were rather
large and in various shades of red.
NOT A CHANCE, CHIBA.
I had to hand it to her. This was inspired. I was very appriciative
and amused. And I let it show by smiling broadly at the group of students
watching me eagerly. Everyone wanted to see what I would do. I chuckled
for their benefit and headed into the school building. I resisted the
urge to rub my hands together in a thoroughly evil fashion. So, she'd
taken the prize behind door number three. Goodie.
I had not yet begun to fight.
*~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~*
I sank into my first hour seat with a delighted sigh. After
coloring my fingers to the bone and nearly killing myself hanging that
sign (though I'd enlisted Lita's reluctant help with that task) I was
looking forward to simply sitting down and taking mindless notes for
50 minutes.
Alas, it was not to be.
Everyone in school listens to that blasted radio station.
And everyone knew that Darien had asked 'Serena' to the Prom.
There is only one Serena in our entire school. Lucky, lucky me.
And what was odd was that all the girls seemed to think that I
*was* lucky. Of course, had I been an observer, instead of the
unfortunate victim of these events, I probably would have seen
it as romantic and wonderful as well.
And to make my life even more glamorous, the story of my
dramatic malt disposal on Chiba's head had spread to the far
reaches of the school. Oh, joy.
And due to my reckless behavior (and the sign I had strung across
the front entry of our school) every girl in my homeroom was now my
*very* best friend. And they let me know how much they cared by
clustering around my desk and asking questions in a garbled fashion.
I just smiled and nodded. The true secret to a happy existance:
just smile and nod.
RING!
Saved by the bell.
My new following headed reluctantly for their respective desks,
and the teacher began role call. I began to relax. Big mistake. Big.
Huge.
"Serena."
"Present."
"And attending Prom, I hear," my teacher said, winking at me.
Oh, God. Now, my homeroom teacher is a nice enough person as teachers
go, but she trained as a preschool-kindergarten teacher, and had taken
the position at the high school only until a position opened up in the
primary grades. Hence the winking, smiling, and generally cheery
attitude.
"Not attending. She's been asked twice, by the same guy, and
she's said no both times!"
I resisted the urge to turn about and locate the traitorous
girl who had opened her mouth. I simply stared straight ahead,
refusing to participate in this discussion.
"But Darien Chiba asked her this morning," my teacher said,
bewildered. "I heard it on the radio."
"He asked her yesterday, too!"
And the peaceful homeroom was shattered by gossip. I opened
my notebook to write a complaint to the student council while various
tidbits about my love life flew around me. My teacher was aghast at
the idea that anyone would turn Darien Chiba down. I was halfway
through my complaint when I realized that Chiba was the President
of the Student Council. I tore out the letter and crumpled it up.
I was about to attempt a three-point shot into the trashcan when
the intercom chimed to life.
I smoothed out my crumpled sheet of paper and began drawing
while the date and lunch menu were read. I doodled through
announcements concerning various clubs, and through soccer,
track, and baseball announcements. The boring voice of the
principal bid us good day, and on came a smooth, sexy
personality that I was beginning to despise. I pretended
not to notice.
"Good morning! This is your student body president."
My entire class swiveled to gauge my reaction. I just smiled
serenely. He hadn't quit after being brained with a milkshake, but
the sign was sure to call a halt to this ridiculous, and insulting,
pursuit. So I had nothing to be worried about.
Chiba went on for a while, reporting the senior class fundraiser,
performance dates of the senior class play, and then he moved on to
more important matters. Namely, the Prom. Decoration commitee,
refreshments, pictures, and so on and so on. Having heard all this
a million times before, and it not being relevant to my life, I tuned
it out.
"And finally, the most important question of all. Do you have
a date?"
Most girls in my class nodded, a few shrugged. I was the only
one who didn't react at all.
"Cause I don't."
I froze. Every other girl made symathetic sounds in the back of
their throats, an endeavor I did not undertake. I pretended not to
notice the little shivers that walked up and down my spine at the
sound of his voice.
"That's right. I, your student body president, do not have a
date for the Prom. And in spite of numerous attempts to correct that
situation, I have remained dateless. However, I remain undaunted."
- No way. It's simply not possible that he would try again. I
am worrying for nothing. -
But a little part of me was disappointed. Okay, a big part
of me. I *really* wanted to go to Prom, just not with a guy who
was so utterly insulting. Even if he did have amazingly
blue eyes and a sexy smile. I worried for nothing.
"How about it, Serena? I've got the tux if you've got the time.
Have a nice day, all!"
I stared at the intercom. The class stared at me. When I made
no move to respond, my teacher broke the silence.
"Yes, well..." she trailed off. The bell chimed again, signaling
the end of homeroom. I grabbed my bag, and was nearly out the door
when the intercom buzzed to life again.
"I've also got a limosine and reservations for dinner. What do
you say, Serena?"
I glared at the intercom, turned around, grabbed an eraser from
the chalk tray and threw it at the hapless intercom. It came back down
in a suffocating cloud of chalk dust, which I did not have to choke
through because I was already stalking down the hall. Now I
refused on principal. Resistance had become duty. I swore that I
heard the national anthem playing in the background as I walked to
my next class.
It didn't stop with the intercom message. A heart shaped box of
chocolates on my desk in Spanish. My favorite kind, of course. A
bouquet of pink, white, and baby blue balloons in my history class
anchored by a large white teddy bear, which was actually rather
adorable. My history class thought I should say yes. So did my
Spanish class. I thought that one of my friends had turned traitor.
How had he known about the chocolates? And balloons in my favorite
colors anchored by my favorite type of stuffed animal was just too
perfect. So I began formulating an evil plot to get even with
whichever one of my friends was batting for the other team.
The near breaking point that Chiba had no doubt been waiting
for occured during phys ed. And it was so subtle that I hardly
knew what hit me. I had dressed down and was about to head for
the gym when a girl in my class came up to me and handed my a
paper heart, folded in two. I opened it, to read one word...
Please? And it was written in little hearts.
Oh, man! He was not playing fair! He didn't get to be nice!
Chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals, those were all fair game.
With a little strength of character, I could handle those. All
I had to do was remember those blue eyes mocking me in the arcade.
But he was not allowed to be sweet!
That thought kept me blazing through the day. Well, near the
end I wasn't actually blazing. I was gimping along, my bag full of
books, chocolate, and paper heart in one hand, my teddy bear in the
other, with the balloons trailing along behind me. I was entertaining
the idea of returning the gifts in plain view of the school when I
reached my locker. With my free hand I reached to twist the combination
into the padlock, and when the lock gave way, I swung the metal door
open.
I put my history book and Spanish flashcards in my locker,
and pushed the door shut, anticipating a rather embarrasing ride
home. It is not everyday that one sees a girl walking down the
street laden with a large teddy bear. And, of course, some wise
a$$ would ask me *why* I was carrying a giant teddy bear down
the street. And then I would have to choose. Either I would
be kind and polite and answer the moron's question, or I
would drop my teddy bear on the street, tackle the jerk
and install him/her as a permanent fixture on the nearest
telephone pole. Probably with a staple gun. A blue staple gun.
Maybe this hapless victim would have dark hair, sexy eyes
and an extremely kissable mouth.
Waking myself, I resisted the urge to kick my locker.
I settled for just slamming it shut. And when I turned around,
my fantasies came to life. My six foot two inch, black haired,
blue eyed, annoying, frustrating, baffeling, sexy, amazing,
incredible, drop dead gorgeous fantasy sprang out of my
daydreams and into the space in front of me. I wasn't sure
whether to smack him or throw the teddy bear at him. I did
neither.
I dropped the teddy bear, balloons, my bag and looked
right at him. He looked back, a slight smile on his lips. He
looked sincere and sweet and open and charming. And
I did the only thing I could think of at the time.
I closed the miniscule distance between us, looked up at
him, and with the memory of that paper heart in mind, I reached
my arms up, looped them around the student body president's neck,
pulled him down to my level, and pressed my lips to his.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So, whatcha think? Mail me and lemme know! *Lyra hugs her
laptop* I love this thing! Not only can I check my email
anywhere that has a telephone line, but I get to pick
my own wallpaper! I currently have the manga picture of
Sailor Pluto from Act 18 of the manga up. I just love it!
lyrasoze@hotmail.com