CHAPTER 5 - Errors of Comedy
The story so far
A few weeks before Junior Prom, Drakken has used the Phoebus device to make himself smarter, and managed to locate Dementor's off-the-grid lair in order to "borrow" it after the destruction of his own. Kim failed to stop Dementor stealing the EMA and inadvertently got stuck with the moodulator, which was set to pink while she was returning from the failed mission. Ron is still unaware that Tara wants him to ask her for a date for the Prom, and is confused about his relationship with Kim, especially when she leaves him behind on missions.
Now read on.
Middleton High – same day
The sound of the end-of-day bell echoed through the empty corridors of Middleton High School, the tone barely dying away before pandemonium struck as one hundred and twenty students erupted from their classrooms and headed for their lockers. The spring sunshine was pouring through the windows lining one side of the corridor, a siren call to the impatient teenagers to leave the building as quickly as possible and enjoy the precious hours of freedom before homework and dinner beckoned.
Minutes later, the corridor was silent again, but for two figures who, for different reasons, were reluctant to depart.
"Hey, Monique ..." The dusky girl looked up from her locker as she recognized the voice of her best friend's best friend. The young man looked troubled, and Monique knew exactly why. She had been waiting back in the hope that she could catch him before he headed homeward.
She took a deep breath before responding. "Oh, hi Ron. What gives?"
Ron studied Monique. "Have you seen Kim? We were supposed to be heading over to BN for some snackage before dinner. But I can't see her anywhere. And she wasn't in our last lesson either." Ron's face showed his unhappiness at the non-appearance of his friend.
The girl considered her words. Despite her nonchalant tone earlier with Kim, she was not really looking forward to telling Ron that half of Team Possible had again been left behind on a mission. But she had a job to do, and a Prom pairing to create. Looking Ron in the eyes, she smiled tentatively.
"Ron, Kim got called away at short notice to a mission to Brazil, something to do with a Professor Dementor." She watched as Ron winced. "I know she really wanted for you to come too, but Wade had already arranged transport and there was just no time to locate you."
The boy fumed. "If I'd been given my own Kimmunicator this wouldn't have happened! Kim needs me – someone has to watch her back. And I thought that Global Justice was giving her some time out this week."
Monique looked sympathetically at the angry sidekick. She knew from Kim that, while Ron could be random for much of the time, he had proved to be a source of strength for her when she took on the weird collection of villains that populated her world. She tried again.
"Kim really didn't want to go without you, but Wade was insistent. Seems that Global Justice couldn't get themselves together fast enough to intercept Dementor, and she had to leave that minute. But I'm sure she'll be back soon, so why don't we head for Bueno Nacho together and wait for her there?"
Ron started to object, but paused. "You do think she's alright, don't you?"
"Yes, of course she is, Ron. Girl who can do anything and all that. When have you ever known Kim to get out of her depth?"
Ron could think of more than one such occasion but kept the thought to himself. A rumbling in his stomach reminded him of the original plan.
"Okay, Mon. You've persuaded me. Snackage it is. Okay by you, Rufus?" A chittering and a tiny voice saying "cheese" confirmed the decision.
The two pals walked out through the front door of the High School into what was now a largely empty parking lot, headed for Main Street. Monique had decided to wait until they arrived at BN before raising the topic of Tara, so kept the conversation inconsequential as they strolled past the afternoon shoppers and approached the distinctive sombrero-roofed building.
Ron was enjoying the walk. His feelings about Monique had initially been ambivalent when she first appeared in his and Kim's life. Fortunately he had had the insight to recognize that his discomfort was a form of jealousy – that he begrudged the time that Kim wanted to spend with her best female friend. But it hadn't taken him long to realize that this was not actually a zero-sum game, and the three of them had become firm friends over the past eighteen months. While Monique was not quite as accepting of his idiosyncrasies as Kim, she nevertheless gave him more credit than many of her fellow students and was happy to spend time with him. And Ron appreciated that.
Monique sat cross-legged at the four-seater booth that Kim and Ron had made their own and watched as Ron approached with two chimeritos and two large sodas, plus a naco for the third member of their party. The two friends sat in silence, enjoying the food, until Monique stopped eating and coughed to draw Ron's attention.
"Ron, there's something else I need to tell you. It's about Tara."
The blond paused in the middle of slurping his soda and looked quizzically at the girl.
"I have it on very good authority that Tara is looking for a date to the Prom." She looked him straight in the eye. "And on equally good authority that a certain freckled blond would be a very acceptable suitor if he asks her."
"No, you must be wrong, Mon. Josh has brown hair, not blond. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't have freckles. Oh, you don't mean Ron Reager do you? No, he's got black hair? Or how about …"
Monique sighed. "Ron Stoppable," she ordered, breaking into his ramblings. "Look at me." He obeyed meekly. "Who am I sitting opposite?" she demanded.
Ron looked over his shoulder but saw no-one he recognized. Turning back he saw Monique's eyes boring into him like a gimlet. "Who I am sitting opposite, Ron?" she repeated.
"Er, me?"
"And what color is your hair?"
"My hair?"
Monique counted silently to three. Fond as she was of the boy …
"Your hair, Ron. What color is your hair?"
"Well, it was blond this morning." His face paled. "It hasn't changed color has it? Oh no, I knew I shouldn't have split that chemical in the lab today …"
"It's blond, Ron," she said icily.
"Oh."
"And what are those spots on your face. And before you answer, you don't have acne."
"Spots?" The boy looked blank, before realization dawned. "Oh, those aren't spots Mon, they're freckles. Had them since I was a baby. I thought you knew that?"
Kim, get here soon before I do something I'll regret to your sidekick!
Taking a deep breath, the girl continued.
"So you have blond hair and freckles. So that makes you …"
"Makes me what?" Ron was at a loss to understand what Monique was driving at.
"What did I say to you about Tara when we started this conversation?"
He scratched his head in thought. "Something about Tara having a date for the Prom?"
His companion leaned over the table and grabbed his necktie, pulling him toward her until their faces were only inches apart. "No, Ron. She wants a date for the Prom. And she wants it to be a particular person, who incidentally she has admired for a long time – though heaven knows why – and who is blond and has freckles." She released the hapless youth and watched quietly as the penny dropped.
"M…me? Tara wants me to be her date at the Prom?" Ron's mouth was hanging open. Rufus took one look at the half-chewed contents before jumping onto his face and forcing his jaws together.
"At last," breathed Monique to herself.
"Yes, you, Ron."
"But … but why would she want to be my date?" He was still in shock. "She's gorgeous, and kind, and … well everything … She can have any guy she chooses."
Monique reached out her arm and took Ron's right hand in her own.
"Ron, I don't know why she wants you to take her to the Prom. Maybe she thinks she's spotted a pretty great guy hiding behind the cluelessness." She smiled at the boy, whose face reddened. She grinned snarkily. "Or maybe she's just insane." His face dropped. "But whatever the reason, she is waiting for you to ask her to the Prom. So go do something about it before she gives up and settles for a top-of-the-food-chain hottie."
And that's my good deed for the week!
"Thanks, Monique." She looked up to see a beaming smile on her companion's face. "I'm truly grateful that you told me about this." Monique was surprised at the change in persona of the boy sitting opposite, no longer slouching but sitting upright in his chair. "I know I don't always get things straight away, and I apologize for that." She shook her head but he continued. "But I'm going to make sure that Tara doesn't regret her decision."
He stood up, wearing a grin that threatened to split his face in half. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mon. Got to get my homework done. I can't ask a certain blonde for a date if I'm in detention, can I? Tell Kim I'll catch her at school tomorrow."
Monique stared at his back as he strode confidently out of the restaurant. And was still staring thoughtfully ten minutes later when a weary-looking redhead entered and collapsed opposite her, matted hair falling over her face.
"Hi Kim, I was wondering where you'd got to?" She indicated the girl. "Looks like a tough day."
The teenager brushed her hair aside and looked across at her friend, smiling dreamily.
"Mission was a bust – Dementor got away with some wacky gadget. Had to speak to GJ before coming here – major league dressing-down from Betty for going it alone and beating on a henchman when he was down." Monique's eyes widened at that last statement.
"You? Beating up a defenseless henchman? Why?"
"Weird sitch there. Felt like the right thing to do at the time. No big. Well GJ thought it was, but hey …."
"Something's wrong," the ebony-skinned beauty thought. "I've never seen Kim so casual about a failed mission."
Kim intertwined her fingers and looked around. "Where's Ron? There's something majorly important I need to talk to him about."
"He had to leave," her friend explained. "He needed to get his homework done."
Kim gaped at Monique. "Ron, leaving BN early to do his homework? What happened, did Drakken hit him with the reverse attitudinator?"
Monique shrugged. "He thinks it's time he shaped up, so that he …"
Kim cut her off. "Oh, that is sooo sweet! He's doing all that just for me."
"Not for you", her friend was about to say but Kim's next words stopped her in her tracks.
"Mon, something wonderful happened to me today. I've finally realized that what I'm looking for in a boy has been right there beside me all this time, and I never knew. It was Ron all the time!" The teen hero glowed with happiness as she spoke the words.
"Ron?" The ebony-skinned girl was lost for words as questions raced through her mind. When did this happen? Does Ron know? How does Ron feel? Oh, no!
"Kim, have you spoken to Ron about this?" she asked tentatively.
"Not yet, Mon. But I will tell him tomorrow at lunch-time." She paused, and considered. "Mon, do you think he'll be pleased?" She beamed. "Oh, of course he will, he told you he's trying to shape up. Oh Mon, it's going to be so amazing!"
Her friend cleared her throat, but Kim paid no attention. "Mon, do you realize how close I came to losing Ron to another girl by being so oblivious? Thank goodness I never got around to telling Ron about Tara's interest." The girl looked suspiciously across at her friend.
"You didn't say anything to him, did you? I don't want that slut anywhere near my Ronnie," she growled fiercely, her face taking on the look of a tigress.
Monique was so astonished at Kim's language and behavior that she couldn't respond.
"Good. I'm off to shower and do my homework." And she had picked up her bag and was walking out of the door before her startled friend could reply.
Dementor's lair – same day
The helmeted wannabe world dictator stepped down from his hovercar onto the landing pad in the heart of the mountain range that concealed the whereabouts of his current lair and looked around him in satisfaction. He glanced back at the plane to make sure that his henchmen were carrying the Electron Magneto Accelerator as he walked toward the airlock that was the sole entrance to his residence.
To a casual observer – or GJ's spy satellites – the landing site would have looked like a small lake in the cone of a long-extinct volcano. Only close examination would have revealed that the apparently liquid surface was in fact a plasticized, reflective mirror-like plate that was currently retracted as the result of a signal transmitted from the approaching aircraft. Professor Dementor had successfully and undetectably hacked into the control mechanism of the satellites, which meant that he knew exactly when they would be overhead. Arriving at 8pm local time, he knew that he would be completely unobserved. Not even the local goats ventured this far up the mountainside.
And that was the way he meant to keep it. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the building contractor who had mocked him for building an airlock instead of a mere doorway. The sap had learned the hard way when the airlock filled with poison gas – courtesy of his long-departed great-uncle Heinrich – while he was taking his leave.
Now, there was nobody left alive who knew the location of this lair. Well, apart from Jack Hench, and he wouldn't be telling anyone. Not if he valued his life … or his profits.
So it came as something of a shock to the pint-sized villain when he emerged from the other side of the airlock to be grabbed by a familiar green and black arm and swung into the wall. The helmet protected him from a head injury but did nothing to deflect the blast of green plasma that followed up the swing and knocked him off his feet to the ground. The last thing he saw before he sunk into unconsciousness was his two henchmen lying on the ground beside him, staring sightlessly at the grinning duo who stood over them.
Earlier that day …
Shego looked up at the mountain pass sweeping up toward the horizon and adjusted the pack on her back.
"Seems like a good ninety-minute hike up this valley 'til we get to Dementor's lair." She turned to her blue-skinned partner, whose face was turning a peculiar blue-green as he gasped for air. "Looking good, Doctor D," she commented with a smirk on her visage.
"Shut up, Shego," complained the villain. "Why do wannabe world dictators always have to have their lairs on mountain tops?" he pouted, missing the irony.
Shego watched as her boss kicked petulantly at the stone path that led up the pass. The effect of the Phoebus device was becoming clearer to her as the days passed. Whilst it obviously seemed to have enhanced Drew's intelligence and especially common sense, it did not have the same beneficial effect on his personality. If anything, his annoying mannerisms and constant moaning had grown worse, although she found it difficult to separate the effect of Phoebus from the taxing journey that the two of them had undertaken since leaving Jack Hench's operation the previous day.
Their personal force fields would gain them entry once they arrived at their destination, but without a hovercar or plane there was no alternative to get to the lair itself except on Shank's pony from the closest bus stop. Sitting on an ancient Tibetan bus, surrounded by chattering elderly woman and half a dozen yaks, trundling for seven hours from Lhasa through the foothills of the Himalayas, was not exactly what she had envisaged when Drakken told her he planned to loan his old rival's lair. On the other hand, the location was so remote that the likelihood of Global Justice, or worse, the interfering teen, coming across them even by accident was as near zero as made no difference. And that suited their plans perfectly.
Her boss' struggles were getting to her. She relented and fished an oxygen mask out of her backpack. "Here Doc, use this." He took the mask and its small pressurized cylinder from her and placed it over his face, taking several deep breaths to reoxygenate himself. She didn't require anything for herself – one of the side-effects of the comet that had provided her with her unique powers all those years ago was the ability to function in a low-oxygen environment, something that had proved highly useful in several of her previous thefts when, by triggering the Halon gas fire alarm, she could breathe freely while her pursuers had to made a rapid exit.
Revitalized by the knowledge that they were close to their journey's end, and in Drakken's case by the cool air flowing into his lungs, they made good time and in just over 85 minutes they were looking over the lip of the summit into a deep blue lake, which mirrored the clouds scudding across the sky.
"So where is it?" Shego demanded?
Her boss consulted his notes that he had copied from the HenchCo files. They had not pinpointed the exact location of the lair but had indicated the GPS position of the place at which supplies to the lair were supposed to be delivered - a point at the end of this path. The lair itself could only be a short distance away. But there was no indication of any lair within sight.
He looked again at the lake. Something about it wasn't right. He turned to his sidekick.
"Shego, heft a rock into that lake."
She looked quizzically at her boss, then shrugged and dropped her backpack.
Two pairs of eyes followed the stone as it arced down to the water … and bounced on the surface.
Drakken smiled. "I think we've found our lair, Shego."
Dementor's lair
"Wakey, wakey Professor."
Dementor opened his eyes, then closed them again in pain as he recalled the earlier scene. Somehow, Drakken and his psychopathic sidekick had both found and broken into his impregnable lair and overpowered his guards. He and his two henchmen had been totally surprised when they entered the lair, and the "fight" was over within seconds.
How did zat blue-skinned idiot figure this out on his own? I am going to have zerious talking-to viz that imbecile Jack Hench!
He opened his eyes again, finding himself bound securely to his own master seat, from where he controlled all of the activities of the lair. Now he was helpless. Did Drakken do this on purpose, or was it just the most convenient object to tie him to. He glanced across the room at the wall-mounted clock. It had been half an hour since he had returned to the lair.
Something slapped his right cheek. He recoiled from the stinging sensation and turned painfully to face his tormentor, who swung the seat around until he was standing in front of his prisoner.
Drakken was flanked by Shego and his own hand-picked head of security, who looked embarrassed.
"Manfred. Vy are you helping zees people?" he besought his henchman.
"Your colleague was quick to spot the advantages of transferring his support to me," Drakken responded. "And because I told him that if he didn't, I'd kill him immediately." Dementor was shocked at the unfamiliarly callous tone of his rival.
"How did zyou get into my lair?" Despite his reduced circumstances, Dementor would not allow himself to be intimidated by his foe.
"Ah, that would be telling, my pint-sized friend." Drakken smiled at Shego. "Suffice it to say that my associate and I are in full control of your hideout. And may I congratulate you on such high-quality design. And such interesting toys!"
ooooOoooo
The answer to Dementor's question had been a subtle but effective use of the PFF. Having ascertained that the "lake" was nothing but a roof, Drakken and Shego had considered how to get in. They had settled on a two-stage entry, with Shego phasing through the roof to launch the assault. Without knowing how high the chamber below was, and how well-defended it might be, it was too much of a risk for Drakken to enter while they were essentially blind.
"Doc, let me go in alone. I can survive a fall if there is nothing below the roof to grab hold of. I'll take out anyone I find in the area below. Then once I've secured the place, I'll find an entry hatch and let you in. There must be one somewhere obvious." Drakken had immediately agreed.
With the element of surprise on her side, and a convenient catwalk below her entry point, Shego had made short work of the unsuspecting henchmen who were unfortunate enough to be in the room at the moment that she had appeared. The entrance had proved to be an airlock, which led Shego to wonder if the lake ever had real water in it. Luck had been with them – the room proved to be the main control room for the lair. In particular, they had control of the communication equipment. Learning – after some crude but effective interrogation of the head of security – that Dementor was expected back shortly from a theft, they awaited his return, confident that no one could tip him off as to the trap he was walking into.
The duo had spent the time waiting for Dementor's return securing the remaining henchmen and marching them down to the holding cells. They had counted over a hundred, and had been surprised to find that most of them were from HenchCo's elite Jack Squadron – the best of the best. Only their complete surprise entry had allowed Shego to take all the defenders down without a serious fight. Dementor must have paid huge sums to secure the services of this cadre of henchmen, and the size and quality of the team led Doctor Drakken to conclude that his German foe had something significant planned. Which suited him perfectly. Why reinvent the wheel if some other villain has already done it for you?
Shego had isolated the ten senior henchmen, including Dementor's head of security, making it clear that she would not hesitate to ramp up her plasma to lethal levels if anyone tried anything. Drakken joined them in the largest cell.
"Gentlemen, I am here to make you an offer. Transfer your allegiance from Professor Dementor to me and you will not be harmed. You can continue to be responsible for your platoons, and you will be treated by my partner and I as respected associates. But reject this offer, or attempt to double-cross me in future, and you will wish you were dead, for the hour before you actually die. Do I make myself understood?"
Shego's eyebrow had risen at Drakken's use of the word "partner" to describe her. Gosh, he really is changing. I could get used to this.
The henchmen looked at each other, then at Manfred. He considered them for a moment, then turned to Drakken.
"We vill do as you ask. The Herr Professor has been a good boss, and if you treat us as well, none of us vill have any reason to betray you. But ve would insist on one thing."
Shego's hands lit. "You are in no position to insist on anything, 'mein Herr'," she said menacingly.
"Nein, nein, you misunderstand me. We want nussing for ourselves. But please do not harm the Professor. As I said, he has been a good employer. And he has many secrets here that you vill find valuable, but vhich only he can explain."
Drakken forbore to mention that he had no intention of seriously harming Dementor, at least while he remained useful. "Agreed," he responded.
Drakken smiled darkly. "Oh, and don't mention any of this to HenchCo – don't want to mess up the paperwork do we?"
The eleven men and one woman shook hands on the deal.
ooooOoooo
"You von't get away viz this you know," Dementor exclaimed.
"I already have, my friend. I am in full control of your lair and of your henchmen. You would do well to recognize this and not struggle against a fate that you no longer control."
Drakken looked down at the securely-bound Professor. He enjoyed seeing his rival in his clutches like this. But there would be time for gloating later. Right now, there was some serious activity to carry out.
"I am not afraid of you – you cannot harm me, the great Professor Dementor," the villain proclaimed, wrestling vainly with his bonds.
"My dear Professor, we do not need to be enemies any more. We have bigger fish to fry. I have no intention of harming you provided that you do not make any attempt to reverse the situation you find yourself in. Should you do so – should I even suspect that you may be thinking about it …" He indicated the woman next to him. No further words were necessary.
"Now, I will want you to show me your toys, and tell me your plans. And I need to borrow some material of yours to build a device I have in mind. But first, we have a ceremony to perform." He turned to his associates. "Shego, Manfred, kindly bring your men upstairs. I have some words to say to them all."
Ten minutes later, the entirety of the lair were gathered in the assembly hall. Flanking the walls were HenchCo's ten platoon leaders, five either side. Standing in front, on a raised dais with seats behind them, stood Drakken, Shego, Manfred and a chastened-looking Dementor, hands behind his back to conceal the fact that they were handcuffed together.
"Your attention," commanded Shego. The room fell silent. She continued. "As of now, this lair is under the control of Doctor Drakken. You are all welcome to remain on condition of absolute loyalty. Any other choice will result in your execution. Would anyone like to object to this condition?"
The audience nervously looked around, but no-one drew attention to themselves.
"Good, I am glad we are all agreed." Shego grinned. "And that includes our new best friend Professor Dementor." She turned to the helmeted villain and smirked.
Facing the audience again, she continued. "Doctor Drakken now wishes to speak to you all." She sat down, indicating to Manfred and Dementor that they should do the same.
Drew Lipsky stepped forward. He looked across at the room filled with henchmen, then flung a glance over his shoulder to see his former rival, now effectively his prisoner and a warm feeling flooded through him. He cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen, and lady," – acknowledging Shego with a smile – I have asked you here so that I may share my dream. A world in which we – the superior ones – rule over those less well-endowed. A world without Global Justice."
His eyes gleamed. "A world without Kim Possible!"
"Impossible," someone shouted from the audience. Shego glared at the interloper, and fired up her plasma.
Drakken smiled indulgently. "Impossible, you say?" He nodded to Shego, who launched a plasma ball toward the hapless interrupter. A scream, quickly cut off, as the smell of burning flesh filled the room.
"Remove him," commanded the green-skinned woman, as Drakken patiently waited for the interruption to cease and the injured henchman carried out. Once the room was quiet again, he continued.
"We have failed too many times in the past, all of us – I, the good Professor, and your employer Jack Hench. We have failed to achieve the goals for which we have all made many sacrifices, and spent many months and even years in prison. And why?" He looked around the room. The audience was rapt – though whether through appreciation of his rhetoric or fear of retribution was unclear.
"Why do we always fail? Because we lack imagination, that is why! We engage in a plot, but fail to take account of the intervention of the goody-two-shoes and her idiot sidekick. And they defeat us. EVERY SINGLE TIME!"
Memories of past humiliations ran through the minds of everyone present. Murmurs of anger could be heard. Before they could grow, Drakken continued.
"But this time things will be different. This time, we combine the capabilities of Drakken and Dementor. This time we have the best that HenchCo has to offer. This time we make sure that Team Possible is neutralized before we launch our strike.
This time, my friends, WE WIN".
Shego jumped to her feet, hands together in enthusiasm, which swept the room as the audience spontaneously cheered their new leader. Drakken nodded to Shego, who reached behind Dementor's back and removed his handcuffs. The Doctor walked over to the Professor and put out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, the pint-sized villain took the proffered hand and shook it. Manfred turned to a side table and picked up a tray with glasses of champagne, offering them to Shego, Drakken and Dementor.
Raising her glass to the audience, she shouted, "To victory!" as she downed the contents of the glass in one gulp.
"To victory!" cheered the crowd. "To Drakken!" Drew acknowledged the acclaim. No-one except Dementor noticed that he was not included in the toast.
Middleton High - Next morning.
"Alright people, listen up."
Ron stifled a groan as his least favorite teacher marched into the classroom and stood at the front of the class.
"Mrs. Schlieffen cannot be here to teach German to you imbeciles due to an accident in the language laboratory involving a certain hairless rodent," Barkin stared pointedly at the brown-eyed blond trying to hide in the back corner desk.
"Sorry, Mr. Barkin," Ron said uncomfortably. "Rufus was only trying not to mention the war …"
"Well, your pet has traumatized Mrs. Schlieffen and as she is now recuperating in the Middleton Rest Home for Former Nazis I shall be your German teacher for the remainder of the semester." Groans of dismay filled the room.
The subject of the comment popped his head out of Ron's pants pocket and grinned nervously at the array of faces that glared at the duo. "Sorree," he chirruped.
"Silence, all of you." When the teacher was sure he had the attention of the class, he continued. "Now get out your copies of Faust and turn to page 56. King, start reading from the second paragraph." Tara's voice filled the air with a fluent German accent. European literature was her passion and she was determined to make top grade in this course. A look of satisfaction crossed Barkin's face – at least there was one student who appreciated the power of Goethe's prose.
Ron stole a glance across the room at the young girl whose perfect German accent filled the air. "Lunch-time," he told himself. "That's when I'll talk to her." A hand went unconsciously to his cowlick and brushed it to one side.
He looked down and stared at the page, incomprehensible words staring back at him. A ball of paper hit the side of his head and fell to the ground. He turned in his seat and glared at his neighbor as he bent to pick up the paper. Shaking his head, Brick Flagg pointed across the room, towards where Bonnie and Kim were sitting one behind the other.
Ron opened the ball of paper and smoothed it out. He gasped at the array of pink hearts drawn onto the sheet, interspersed with the letters RS. He looked up and found himself meeting Bonnie's eyes. He held up the sheet and pointed to her questioningly. The brunette looked across at the sheet and a look of anger crossed her face.
"As if, loser," she whispered harshly, rather louder than she had intended. Tara, sitting to her right, paused, and Steve Barkin looked up from the papers he was marking. "Rockwaller, one more word and you're in detention, cheerleader or no cheerleader." Bonnie's face turned puce and a titter went around the class.
The replacement teacher glanced around the room and his eyes came to rest on Ron, paper still in his hands.
"What do you have there, Stoppable?" Barkin demanded.
Ron's cheeks turned crimson as he tried to conceal the embarrassing item. "N...nothing, Mr. Barkin," he stammered.
The imposing teacher glowered at the cowering boy. "If that is not your German homework, you can put it away right this minute. Unless you want to join Rockwaller in detention tonight?"
"No, Mr. Barkin. Definitely not, Mr. Barkin. The Ronman is not one for detentionage tonight, sir, definitely …"
"Stop gibbering Stoppable!" Ron fell silent with relief.
"King, carry on reading," Barkin spoke resignedly. With a glance of sympathy at Ron, Tara picked up her book and resumed her recital.
Ron looked across at a still-seething Bonnie. His attention was drawn by a wave from behind the girl. A smiling redhead pointed to the sheet on his desk and then to herself.
Kim?!