Hi everyone! Happy Halloween if you celebrate it, and happy November if you don't!
Review responses:
Phineas A: Yup. I'll indicate which dialogue is translated.
Red A: Yes, there will eventually be Phinabella (Or Perfenalia?). I'm not interesting Ferbella either.
Dreadwing216: O.o Actually, there are multiple awkward conversations in this chapter. Are you psychic or something? (*Uses Dark-Type move on you*) Pokémon fans will get that joke.
That same Guest: Hey! I make words up too! For example, a favorite between me and my bro is Hedididejax. It doesn't really mean anything, but sometimes we beatbox to it. The intentions of Ferb and Graciela will be revealed later. Also, I'm thinking of making all the chapters be around this length, if it's not too short.
The boys were all exiting their daily OWCA meeting when Ferb got the call. "Who was that?" Baljeet asked once he hung up. "What did she say?"
Ferb did not answer immediately, instead using the time to consider the safest way to do so. "That sounded like Graciela," Irving noted, rolling the 'R'. "Did you tell her I said hi?"
Silence answered them as Ferb had no way of explaining. He did not realise that some of the call had been in earshot of his friends.
"She was... Calling to see how Perfeneas is doing," he attempted; at least that was true. "You know her. Very curious."
"Oh, very," Buford agreed. "Man, girls can be annoying." Ferb rolled his eyes at this.
"Wait, why were you guys speaking in Spanish?" Balthazar asked, "I know she speaks English too. Better than you know her native language."
"...Yeah," Irving added, catching on. "When we're around, you two never have a problem speaking English. But you always use español when it's just the two of you, and you know we can't understand it."
Buford crossed his arms and stopped walking. "You hiding somethin'?" He asked suddenly.
Ferb did not think the other boys would consider this, but unfortunately he was mistaken.
"What's going on, Ferb?" Django asked, "Why aren't we allowed to know what you're talking about?"
"You can tell us anything, you know," Balthazar added.
Ferb put his hands up, facing them. By this point, they had all stopped walking. "I was letting the lady speak more easily," he informed them.
"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" Irving challenged, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Listen, buddy. That's my girl you're talking about. I'm going to ask you to politely lay off."
This took everyone by surprise. Ferb blinked at his suddenly defensive friend, a preferable method of communication to speaking. "Oh, it's not like that?" The bespectacled one realized, "Um, o-o-kay then. I-I get it."
"So, you and Graciela, Irving?" Baljeet inquired, "Since when?"
Irving looked down and played with his fingers. "Well, since-since never, but... I'm just saying it'd be nice..."
Seeing this opportunity, Buford began acting as though a large amount of pressure was pushing him to the ground. He held his hands to the sides of his head and fell onto his knees. "So... Much... Nerdiness!" He announced at the very thought of the two together, "Buford can't take it!"
The other five eyed each other and started walking again. "So, who is up for ice cream?" Baljeet asked, a faint "No! Too much!" growing farther away with each step.
Cansummace was in her room, sulking. She sat on her colorless bed - surrounded by an all-white room, which she insisted was identical to Perfeneas's - reflecting on everything her brother had that she could never attain. It was not a rare occurrence, but it was not a common one either; with the upcoming test looming over the so-called family, she considered the subject now more often and more thoroughly than ever.
Doofenshmirtz opened the door a little, found her unhappy, and walked inside. "Hey," he started. "What's got you down now?"
The teen sighed. "Perfeneas is leaving soon, right?" She asked, not bothering to look at him. Her head was in her hands.
"In a couple of days, yes," Heinz confirmed. "Once we watch him win for our country, I'll be completely free to take over the entire Tri-State Area! It'll be a win-win for everyone!" He paused. "Well, maybe not my future subjects, but pssh, who cares? Really."
Doofenshmirtz always got like this when talking about Perfeneas. Cansummace was used to it, but never believed he was serious. Most of the time she would just ignore his rants.
She finally met his gaze. "Not me," she claimed, "Not until I'm like him."
Doofenshmirtz rolled his eyes, just as used to his daughter's grievances as she was his, and no more concerned. "Honey, we talked about this," he said, half-sternly and half-comforting. "Besides, who would want to be like him?" He nodded towards the door. "Us people, we have more fun." The scientist felt as if he were talking to a failed -Inator.
Cansummace balled her fists. "Not the right kind of fun," she mumbled. Doofenshmirtz thought for a few seconds.
"Perfeneas," he called. No one answered. "Come here!"
"The walls are soundproofed. He can't hear you," Cansummace explained when the boy failed to appear a second time.
"Oh, that's right," Doofenshmirtz realized, "See? You're even smarter than I am."
The teen lit up. "I am?"
Doofenshmirtz walked towards the door. "Sure," he offered, "Now wait here and I'll get your brother."
Cansummace, with reluctance, did as she was told.
Graciela Guerrero was the biggest fan of her own resourcefulness. The girl had successfully infiltrated Flight 203 to the Tri-State Area and had remained hidden for a whole hour after takeoff, using nothing but her status as an OSBAM agent, the minimal technology she was given by said organization, and a half-full jar of peanut butter. Ferb and the boys would be impressed.
She snagged an open seat next to a sleeping man, deciding that they shared enough similarities in appearance to be related should the need for identification arise. Graciela had flown before, usually on family trips, and was considerably used to the sights and sounds of the aircrafts. The girl quietly imagined herself flying like some caped superhero outside of the plane, gazing past the man's huge stomach out the window; one day, maybe her dream of free flight could become a reality, if Perfeneas was all Ferb implied he was. She fixed her beret and sash, the OSBAM equivalents to OWCA's fedora. Out of habit mostly, and since she had nothing better to do, the girl returned her attention to the emergency evacuation cards from the pocket of the seat in front of her. She liked reading the text in English, then in Spanish, and comparing the grammar of both languages, reading one as she would read the other, and eventually ending up with funny and out-of-order sentences.
She could not see Isealia from where she was sitting, for the experiment and scientist were traveling first class and under protection by security. It was not important to keep an eye on her, however; in fact, Graciela preferred her seat for its inability to be seen from Isealia's. An African-American flight attendant approached.
"Would you like some cookies, pretzels, or peanuts?" She offered, pushing a cart full of snacks and such down the aisle.
"Thank you no," Graciela denied, momentarily forgetting which language she was speaking. She peered over the rest of the cart and, her decision made, requested, "Take a box of juice?"
This puzzled the attendant, who then realized there was a language barrier involved. "Oh, yes. Here you go."
"Thank you."
The heavy man next to Graciela shifted and his eyes slowly opened. Startled to find the girl next to him, he looked about this way and that. He quietly exclaimed something in Spanish.
"Oh, I'm sorry for waking you, sir," the lady in the aisle apologized. "Would you like some cookies, pretzels, or peanuts?"
The man just looked nervously back and forth between the two, hardly trying and just as hardly failing to comprehend the situation. The attendant turned to Graciela. "Is this man your father?" She inquired.
Graciela looked at him. Clearly, he had no clue what either of them were saying; she easily determined that he was not bilingual and replied with a tactful "Yes."
Suspicious, the woman asked the man for confirmation. Naturally, his inability to answer created an unpreferable complication.
"Does he speak English?" She whispered to the girl, who reported her findings that he was not. A second passed as the woman considered what to do. "Well, can you tell him I'd like to know for sure, honey? You know how airline security is, and I don't speak your language."
"Excuse me," Graciela started in Spanish, turning to the innocent passenger. "You do not know me, correct? I am a complete stranger to you?"
The man nodded quickly, confused by the ordeal.
"Oh, okay," the flight attendant dismissed, "Just making sure." And she left, heading back down the aisle. There were more potential customers down there, after all, and more peanut chickens to be sold.
Graciela turned sharply to her partner. She withdrew a badge and showed it to him, whispering urgently, "Agent G of MOWCA, or the Mexican Organization Without a Cool Acronym. Do not make me do that again, do you hear me?"
He wholeheartedly agreed. "Good," Graciela said, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her juice box. "Now go back to sleep." The whole time, it never occurred to her that she was too young for this job.