A.N. Okay...thanks for waiting...all three of ya'll...

Diablo: Yeah...Its just the beginning of her mutation...and the light she is seeing is like a cat seeing in the dark...about Lance tho..u have to read it to find out!

Me: I don't know who you are...but thanks for your wonderful reviews...they really made my day...and yeah preteens do get crushes..lol

Buttercup: Here's the next chap...finally!

CHAPTER 4: "Um, Duh, Let Me Think…PART FOUR! Idiots."

I swear, if you are still expecting chapter names, you should just find a different story or something!

Four Years Later:

"GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM CHRISSIE! GOD! You've been in there for two hours!" a now seventeen year old and very pissed off Lance yelled through the door of the bathroom he and Christine shared.

He had filled out very nicely in the past four years, and now sported long shaggy bed hair as opposed to the crew cut he'd had up until the year before last, and a great set of pecs as well. His Style of clothing had changed as well. He now wore beat up old jeans all the time, and beat up old tee shirts that showed his great set of pecs, and this really awesome brown leather vest; definitely not like the prep school clothes his mom picked out for him. He had a part time job working in his father's garage, and was saving up money for a truck.

Christine had matured physically early on, and after transferring to high school, spent a lot of time thinking about, flirting with, or hanging around boys

Kitty had matured mentally and was an intelligent, hardworking student and advanced quickly in math. She hadn't grown as quickly as Christine had, so she was just a petite version of her.

They both still favored the high ponytails that they wore as children, and they both still wore girly girl clothes, although Christine's were a little bit more risqué than Kitty's. They both had also gained a spot on the cheerleading team.

"I'm almost through!" Christine yelled back. The door suddenly flew open revealing a heavily made up Christine.

"What-are-you-wearing?" Lance ground out through clenched teeth.

"Makeup, like, DUH!" Christine spat indignantly.

"You sure you're not going to a job interview with Barnum and Bailey? Cause your wearing enough crap on your face to get a job as a clown!"

"MOM! Lance is making fun of me again!" Christine yelled as she shoved past Lance. She spun and stuck out her tongue at him as she stomped down the stairs, almost tripping in her clog sandals.

"You deserve it! You look like you should be made fun of!" he yelled after her before walking into the bathroom and stripping down for a shower.

"Kitten! Christine is down here waiting! She said that Lance is going to drive you guys to school today, so you have to hurry up!" Rebecca called up the stairs.

Oh, crap! Kitty thought to herself, yanking off the plain white tee shirt that she'd planned to wear, and pulled her new red halter-top out of her drawer. She threw it over her head and smeared some red lip-gloss on before running down the stairs. Her overstuffed brown backpack hung off of her shoulders.

She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the toast and juice her mother had waiting for her.

Christine was sitting at the kitchen table drinking orange juice, smearing the lip-gloss that she wore all over the rim of the cup.

"Morning Chrissie! Let's go!" Kitty grinned as she finished her breakfast. Christine jumped from her chair and grabbed Kitty's arm, dragging her out the door.

"Bye, Mom! Thanks for breakfast!" Kitty called to her mom, waving goodbye.

"Yeah. Thanks for the o.j. Mrs. P.!" Christine yelled too.

Christine and Kitty ran next door and jumped in the Alvers' SUV, Christine in the back chattering on about her latest crush.

"Ohmigod! Jake is soooo fine! And he totally smiled at me in history yesterday!"

Lance climbed into the front seat and mocked her as they pulled out of the driveway, "Like, ohmigod! You are sooo like, totally right! Jake is soooo fine, and he's like totally into you!"

Christine scowled from the backseat, first at Lance, and then at Kitty as Kitty giggled at Lance's version of 'Prissy Chrissie Talk' as Lance liked to call it.

Lance turned and winked at Kitty and said, "Hey, Brat, got a date or something?" as Christine raged on indignantly, "That's so not funny, Lance! You don't hear me making fun of your totally overdone badboy attitude, or your hair that's greasy and too long, or your clothes that look like you pulled them out of a dumpster, do you?"

Kitty blushed bright red at his question, and asked, "Why did you ask that?"

Lance grinned at her and replied, "Cause you're all dressed up. You look good."

Kitty was about to thank him when Christine interjected, "How come you say that I look like a clown when I dress nice, and you say that Kitty looks good?"

Lance just flipped her off in the review mirror and turned on the radio to tune out the rest of her chatter. He began flipping through the stations, ignoring Christine's squeals of protest when he flipped through a station playing pop music. He finally found a station that was playing Metallica, and when he stopped it there, Christine protested.

"Ewwww! Lance! This music is like, so totally lame! Why don't you find a station playing Brittany Spears or something resembling music?"

"You call that slut, music? Okay, you aren't related to me!"

"Kitty, tell him that Brittany Spears isn't a slut! You're smart, and he listens to you," Christine sputtered.

"Actually, Brittany Spears is kind of slutty…" Kitty began.

"HA! Told you!" Lance interrupted.

"…But Christina Aguilera is even worse. Personally, I like Norah Jones. She has a really nice voice, reminiscent to Billy Holliday and Rosemary Clooney, and she is a better role model for girls than Brittany or Metallica," Kitty finished with a smile at both of them.

Both of the occupants of the car gaped at her reply of a few seconds and then went back to bickering.

"See? She agrees with me," Lance grinned smugly.

"No she doesn't! She said that Metallica is just as bad! Like, that doesn't mean that she agrees with you, moron!" Christine spat back.

"I didn't say anything about Metallica. We weren't discussing Metallica. The question was if Brittany Spears was a slut, and she said, and I quote, 'Actually, Brittany Spears is kind of slutty'. Therefore, I win!"

"Win what?" Kitty interjected.

"I win the argument," Lance grinned.

"Oh. Well, since I'm always the referee in these arguments, I'm sorry Chrissie, Lance did win this time," Kitty said apologetically.

"Oooh… you're just saying that because…because…because you're in love with him!" Christine sputtered angrily.

Kitty gasped and covered her now beet red face with her hands, and squealed, "CHRISSIE! Oh my God! I cannot believe you just said that!"

Lance's eyes flew to Kitty who was now groaning, and then to Christine who was looking really guilty and had her mouth dropped open. He nearly swerved off the interstate as he looked back at Kitty. She was glaring at Christine, and when she turned back around and met his eyes, he could see it was true. Tears welled up in her eyes, and then she shrieked as she noticed the incoming exit sign.

Lance quickly swerved back onto the interstate and tried to concentrate on driving as he thought on what his big-mouthed sister had just revealed.

He'd been in love with Kitty ever since she'd kept her promise and hadn't told Christine about the nightmares and the bruises on their mom, but he hadn't known that she had felt the same way. She'd kept a lot of his other secrets as well; how he had raided his dad's liquor cabinet and thrown a party while his parents and Christine had been on a trip see his mom's mom in Miami, and had gotten piss drunk and she'd nursed him the next morning, how he'd gotten drunk again and spilled that he'd slept with one of her and Christine's best older friends when he was sixteen, how he'd skipped school to go to a concert, how he used to smoke pot all the time until one of her friends OD and she told him about it and he quit, and a lot more. Come to think of it, she'd found out one way or another everything about him, and he knew pretty much everything about her.

He knew that she'd smoked pot once behind the bleachers at a football game, and ended up puking all over him afterwards. He knew that she secretly had a passion for rock music, and had tacked up underneath her posters of Kelly Clarkson and N'SYNC posters of the lead singer of Crossfade. He knew that she'd stopped hanging around with Chelsea (her older friend that he'd slept with) after he told her about sleeping with Chelsea. (Did she do that out of jealousy?) He knew that she told everyone at school that she was a vegetarian, but she would get him to drive her to grab a cheeseburger at Burger King in the middle of the night because she didn't have her driver's license yet. He knew she had a fake I.D. and she'd occasionally buy cigarettes when she was really stressed out. He just hadn't had any idea that she was in love with him.

He wondered how long she'd been in love with him, and wondered if it was true love, or just infatuation. He continued to ponder on this the whole rest of the way to school, occasionally glancing over to see if he could tell what she was thinking.

She was sitting in silence, not responding to Christine's whined apologies, just staring out the window and occasionally sighing deeply. He pulled up at the school and just sat there waiting for her to say something. After about five minutes, Christine finally said that they had to get to class.

"Come on Kitty. The bell's going to ring in a few minutes," Christine offered lamely.

"Go on Chrissie. Kitty and I gotta talk,' Lance said, throwing an angry look at her.

"But…"

"I said go on! We'll be in in a few minutes," Lance ordered her.

"Fine! I'm going!" Christine huffed as she climbed out of the SUV. She paused and looked at Kitty. "I really am sorry, Kitty."

"Just go, Chris," Kitty muttered.

Christine looked at her one more time, and then headed into school.

Lance shifted in his seat to where he could see Kitty better, and then said, "So, I take it that what Chrissie said is true?"

Kitty didn't turn from the window, but nodded mutely.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lance asked her, trying to get her to look at him.

Again, Kitty said nothing, but shrugged.

"GOD! Would you look at me Kit?" Lance exclaimed, wincing as Kitty jumped in her seat.

She slowly turned to look at him, her face blood red and streaked with tears.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, trying to ignore the tears on her face.

"Because you don't feel the same way about me, and I couldn't deal with you rejecting me," Kitty replied sullenly.

"How do you know I don't feel the same way about you?" Lance retorted quietly.

Kitty's eyes flew to his and then she replied sadly, "Because I know you Lance. I know everything there is to know about you, and I'm not the kind of girl you would fall in love with. But, I'm okay with that, I really am. I've always known that. Guys like you can't love their little sister's best friends. It's just not plausible."

Lance tried to say something to her, but she cut him off.

"Please, just don't say anything. I don't want your sympathy. Just forget Chrissie ever said anything, and everything can go back to normal."

"But I don't want everything to go back to normal. Kit, I lo…" he began, and then was cut off by a knocking on the window. It was one of her friends waving for her to hurry up.

"We will finish this later, Kit," he growled as she gathered up her backpack and began to climb out of the SUV.

"No, we won't, Lance. No, we won't," she replied, "because it didn't ever happen. Okay?" She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and pasted a grin on her face for her friend's benefit.

"Wait, Kit…" he started, but she was gone, running into the school building with her friends.

He touched his cheek where she'd kissed him. It was burning like she had branded him. He pulled his fingers back and looked down at them. They had just a touch of her cherry lip gloss on them.

Oh, We will finish this, Kitty Pryde. You aren't going to get away that easily, he thought with a grin, and climbed out of the car.

He headed around the back of the school to the football field, thinking about ways to tell her how he felt about her.

He stepped behind the bleachers to where his friends were waiting. He was glad he'd gotten away from the SUV before any of his buddies saw him. It was bad enough that they thought that he was smarter than them, but richer was a big no-no. He didn't really care what they thought, it just made his life a whole lot easier if he fit in with a crowd in high school and hanging out with Pete, Griff, Richy, and Angela was a hell of a lot better than hanging with the nerds, jocks, or the other general popular people.

Angie, a short Goth girl, nodded at him as he strolled up, not bothering to remove the joint from her lips to say hello.

He nodded back at her as he dropped his back pack on the ground and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. He leaned up against a bleacher support, lighting up while he waited for Pete and Griff to show up.

They came running up not to many seconds later.

"Sup Guys?" Lance greeted them.

"Not much Alvers. D'you bring it?" Pete answered, the obvious leader of the group.

"Yeah, I brought it," Lance replied as he squatted down beside his pack, and pulled out a bottle of vodka from the front pocket.

"All right! You da man, Alvers!" Richy exclaimed as he snatched the bottle from his grip.

"I da man? Dude, are you stoned?" Lance chuckled.

"Maybe just a little," Richy snickered as he swigged the alcohol, and then passed the bottle to Angie.

"So, how's it goin' with your Kitty cat? You nailed her yet?" Griff asked Lance as he got the bottle and gulped some.

"I bet she don't even know he exists," Pete sneered as he grabbed the bottle, and causing a round of derisive comments from the rest.

"Yeah, she'd fuck your sister before you," Angie snickered.

"Shut the fuck up! Don't say anything about either of them you fucking stoners! They're ten times the people you'll ever be!" Lance growled as he snatched the bottle away from Richy. "And if I ever hear anything about them from your lips again, I'll kick all your fucking asses!"

"Oooh, touchy, touchy!" Richy scoffed, causing another round of snickers.

Lance snarled at them and stalked out from under the bleachers, still holding the vodka bottle and ran right into the principal of the school.

"Lance Alvers, this is the last straw!"