This was it. Keesha was a shoo-in to become head honcho of the Walkerville High's news show, she knew it, but getting the approval to do this piece would prove unequivocally that she had the real raw talent to be a journalist. She had labored over this proposal for hours, days, months – painstakingly crafting every minute detail of how it would be done. Last night, she had proposed it to her reflection in her vanity so many times, there was absolutely no way that she could flub this. She had carefully laid out her gorgeous royal purple blazer and the indigo dress underneath, along with all of the makeup she had expertly applied to her calm determined face this morning. Her laboriously straightened hair smelled vaguely but deliciously of her perfume. She was ready.
"Hey, you ready, Keesh?" Ralphie sprinted up towards her. Considering his stocky frame, it was a bit surprising that Ralphie was so fast. But Keesha remembered how much Ralphie had loved baseball – even in third grade, his love had bordered on obsession, and that hadn't changed much. What did change, though, was that Ralphie's baby fat that had given him a premature squishy potbelly back then had miraculously all turned into hard muscle. Looking at him, you'd think he was more a football player, and he probably could have been one of the greatest football players in the history of Walkerville. His loyalties lay with baseball, however, and so Ralphie devoted the energies of his formative years toward honing his baseball skills, including the speediness that so came in handy for him right now.
All of these thoughts flashed in Keesha's mind at the lightning speed that her thoughts usually occurred at. It was a welcome diversion from the stress of her proposal but no, she must concentrate!
"I'm fine!" Keesha snapped.
Ralphie raised an eyebrow and gave Keesha his easy, crooked smile. He knew that Keesha cared a lot about this proposal, though he had no idea what it even entailed. Cheerfully, Ralphie put a burly arm around her tensed shoulder and quipped, "No, you're not!"
Keesha's heart rate elevated, probably due to the frustration of having to deny that she was stressed. Keesha rotated her shoulder, away from Ralphie and his big, comforting arms.
"How would you know how I'm feeling?!" Keesha's beautifully lashed eyes blazed with a ferocity that Ralphie was so familiar with. It was more often than not directed at him and by now, it shouldn't have affected him at all. Even so, when Keesha's dark eyes glared at him, he couldn't help a shiver.
But since Keesha wouldn't allow his arm on her shoulders, Ralphie bravely grabbed Keesha around the waist. Keesha flinched and tried to pull away, but that darn baby-fat-turned-to-muscle kept her in.
Ralphie grinned. "Keesha, you have that habit of denying that you have feelings, but I can read you like an open book."
"You can read?" Keesha's eyes widened, mocking.
"Keesh, you clearly are NOT at the top of your game if that's all you can come up with." Ralphie gave Keesha a playful squeeze, though Keesha had grown so slender that there wasn't much there at the waist to squeeze.
Keesha's breath got shallower and she inhaled and exhaled more audibly and rapidly. "No! I'm ready! I'm at the top of my game!"
Ralphie's hands flew up as if the police had caught him stealing. "Okay, okay! Fucking hell, you're at the top of your game! You're going to be great!"
Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, either. "Don't you lie to me!" Keesha screeched.
Ralphie's hands were on her again, keeping her arms down and keeping him safe from being hit. "Keesha, you listen to me. I would never lie to you. You're so...you're so talented at this and you're just going to blow them away. You're stunning – er, what I mean is that you'll stun them with how awesome you'll be. There is nothing to worry about."
Keesha's angular shoulders slowly came down and seemed to round out. "Right. I'll be okay. Right." Keesha stared off into nothing for a second. "Ralphie, would you – "
"Be there at the meeting? Yeah, of course. I was definitely planning to be there. I know that I haven't been to any of the meetings before, but I always figured there isn't really much that the weatherman could contribute..."
Ralphie had never felt so glad that he had been (Okay, still was) such a comic book freak that he had come up with his Weatherman alter-ego back in childhood. Although he made all of his third-grade classmates swear themselves to secrecy, Keesha still brought it up when it was just that group together. And when the girl who had usually done the weather on the school news show had suddenly quit because Harry Arm creeped her out, Keesha just couldn't resist the humorous idea of asking Ralphie to be the weatherman. Ralphie wasn't sure why he had agreed, considering he definitely was cognizant even then that this was opening him up to more ridicule from Keesha. He had also been well aware that this could've potentially led to other people knowing about his love for superheroes, robots, and god forbid, the conventions he never missed, but he had still said yes. He had begrudgingly been telling Walkerville High the state of the sky ever since. But he was glad now that he had, because Keesha needed someone in there today.
Keesha still wasn't in the best state of mind. "Right, right..." She muttered to herself.
"Hey, we're going to be late and you don't want that, right? Let's go." Ralphie's arm was around her again and he led her to the meeting with a gentleness that seemed to conflict with his chiseled muscles.
They sat down in the room and Ralphie kept his hand on Keesha's knee. It was meant to be a reassuring gesture, but Keesha thought that it was actually making her more nervous. Keesha put her hand on top of Ralphie's and gripped it tightly. It was a good thing Ralphie had grown to be so strong, because Keesha's hold on his hand would have burst any other hand into a pulp.
Harry Arm waltzed into the room and cleared his throat unnecessarily. He was head of the news show and liked to lord that fact over everybody. Being his usual smarmy self, he paced around at the front of the room, nonchalantly whirling around a pointer.
In a voice that hadn't changed since elementary school, Harry nasally intoned, "Alrighty, so today's a very important day. Today's the day that you propose your ideas to ME, the boss, and I decide whether they're important enough for me to bother with. So, who's got some attempts at genius for me?" He flopped his hand and with a grandiose wave, gestured to himself.
Ralphie looked at Keesha. This was her moment. She was going to rock it.
"Yes, Carmen?"
Okay. Maybe Keesha was waiting to be second so she didn't look too desperate or something.
Carmen finished her monotone description of her proposal to do a piece on why roller blades were better than roller skates.
"Alrighty then, that was...well, Carmen, I would say inane or asinine, but I don't think you know what those words mean. Anybody else?"
Keesha's hand was literally trembling and made Ralphie's hand shake with it. Keesha's pupils were surrounded by more white than was normal and were fixated on Harry Arm, going back and forth as Harry walked from one side to the other.
"Michael. Do tell me your fabulous idear."
Okay, so maybe Keesha wanted to go last so her proposal would be freshest in Harry's memory or something?
"Tut tut, Michael. That just won't do. Anybody else have any proposals that are even worth my time?"
Ralphie stared at Keesha, hoping that maybe he could convey to her with his gaze everything that she needed to hear. Maybe she could feel what he wanted to say considering that she was still looking at Harry Arm.
"Nobody? Really? This is preposterous. We can't have a show without any good stories!"
Still no response from Keesha. She just sat there, not blinking.
"Last ca-all..." Harry Arm said in his annoying, sing-song, fake-British-accented voice.
Nothing. Ralphie's heart started beating faster, erratically for her until he just couldn't sit there anymore. The one hand stayed under Keesha's, but the other shot up.
"Why, Ralph. Good of you to be a chum and show up to this meeting. I don't recall you ever having come before. Yet you have a proposal?" Harry sneered and if Keesha's hand hadn't been on Ralphie's already, Ralphie would have punched Harry Arm right in his pug-like snooty nose.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Ralphie really wanted to add that he never came to meetings because he wanted to minimize his time in Harry Arm's presence, but he figured it wouldn't be to Keesha's best interest, so he refrained. "But no, I don't have a proposal. Keesha has an amazing one, though."
"Oh, does she? Enlighten me, Keesha. What is your little nugget of brilliance?"
But all Keesha could do was stare.
Ralphie put his other hand on top of hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Softly, "Keesha. You are more prepared for this than for anything you've ever done. And you know your idea is great. C'mon, show that ass who's really boss."
Keesha could feel in her cheeks that tingling feeling that was the precursor of tears. She didn't have any thoughts in her head except for the hazy recognition of the input from her senses.
"Don't think I didn't hear that, Ralph. But as I am a fair boss, I will not let your inappropriate antics cloud my view of Keesha's proposal. So, Keesha, what is it? Do share."
It's RalphIE. Not Ralph. That's his Dad. The thought flitted across Keesha's mind. It was the first coherent thought that had passed through her mind since this meeting had started.
Then another coherent thought occurred to her.
I don't give a fuck about this proposal.
And Keesha got up and walked out.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ralphie had taken a second to stare at the spot where Keesha had been and then had dashed out after her. One of his hands was on the crook of her elbow and the other floated in the air, effectively conveying his confusion.
"Keesha. Franklin. You just fucking walked out of there! This is the most fucking important moment of your life!" Ralphie was aghast. He had seen Keesha at all levels of psycho, but this was a new one.
"Yeah, it is." And she grabbed his face and her lips were on his, and holy fuck, he was enjoying this. Yes, his hormones were very happy. But it was more than that – it was as if he had found his Lois Lane, his Mary Jane Watson.
Weatherman had found his Weatherwoman.