AN: I will never take chewing for granted again. I can't wait till I'm healed enough to eat meat again. At the moment, I'm stuck with soup and mashed potatoes. Okay, enough of that. There was a mistake last chapter. Beej said he hasn't seen Lyds for 20 years. I lied. He hasn't seen her for 40 years. Um, if you want to see some awesome flamenco dancing and music, search Peter Torsiello, Lilliana de Leon, or Flor Y Piedra in YouTube All three should get you the same thing. Lilliana was my Latin Dance teacher two semesters ago, and her husband, Peter, is an amazing guitar player. They're also pretty amazing people. I don't think the dance I was in made it to YouTube, though. Um, many many thanks to Morbid Crow, Dark Angel Erissa, HeartRose, Animekitty47, and Calm-Waters for their reviews.

Chapter 8: Just Dance, It'll Be Okay

My second grade teacher changed my life. Before second grade, I was on the sociable side of life. The only thing I lived for was helping others.

Then one day, I walked into the classroom, and my desk was pushed up against the wall. Away from everyone else.

My second grade teacher hated me.

Might have had something to do with me being one of a handful white kids in that entire school.

Since then, I've been quite. Watching life from the sidelines. Wanting to be a part of it, but never going for it.

But, no matter how many times I knew that answer, and didn't raise my hand . . . no matter how many times I never announced my test grade . . . eventually, I would hear: "Hey, Kylie, what did you get for number six?"

And it would all go to hell.

Which is where I am now.

At least this demon knew how to bribe me.

Sucking on my vanilla bean frappachino with a shot of carmel, I watched Claire butcher her derivatives.

"You said you're in Calculus II, right?", I asked her when she failed again.

"Yeah."

"So this should be a review."

"Like, do you honestly think I, like, paid attention in that class?" she asked me, brow raised.

"Well, yeah." I mean, duh. "How the hell else did you pass?"

"I screwed the professor."

If I hadn't have been watching her face, I would honestly tell you she hadn't said that. But I had been watching her face, and her mouth had moved when she said those words.

"Let me guess: you have a female professor now?"

"Yeah, so could you, like, tutor me?"

"Sure, whatever. As long as you buy me more Starbucks." Normally, I'd do it for free, but, come on, this is Starbucks we're talking about here! That, and she pissed me off. Seriously, it's Saturday. I had to go see Beetlejuice in a couple hours. And at the rate this was going, I'd be here till Monday.

One thing about me, despite my laid-back attitude, is I have very little patience. And what patience I have is directed to not strangling the idiot I'm dealing with. Claire was really testing my limits. Really? She didn't know how to do the chain rule? My God!

Not being able to watch her fail any longer, I grabbed the book and paper from her. "Look, I've got someplace to be tonight, so I'll do this assignment for you." I glanced up at her face. "But you gotta learn this stuff. I ain't gonna be there to take your tests. Got it?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*

I had no idea what I was going to do about Claire. I had shown a weakness by doing that assignment for her.

Damn. I still let people use me as a doormat.

This time when I showed up in the Neitherworld, I was in Beetlejuice's garage. Just as cluttered as the rest of his house. You know I love it! Personally, I hated when a place was tidy. Made it feel fake.

But this time, there was a car in the garage. A dark red, 1968 Ford Mustang-style convertible with black leather interior.

"Holy shit," I whispered, running my hand lightly along the front fender.

And it meep-meeped at me.

And I heard a bang from the back, and Beetlejuice's inventive swear words.

I just stared at the front end of the car, it's headlight eyes with cat-like irises staring back at me.

"Hey, Kitty!"

I looked up from the car's eyes to see Beetlejuice standing behind the car. He was wearing a mechanic's outfit in his usual stripes, and he was wiping his greasy hands on a greasy, purple handkerchief. At least, I think it was purple.

"Hi, Beej. Um, what's up with the car?"

"Like her?"

"Yeah, I think she's gorgeous," I said, looking over the car again.

It, no, she meeped and . . . purred? I guess she liked my answer.

"Good. Me and Lyds used ta have a car. We built him. Called him the Dragster of Doom. Doomie fer short. So when I lost my babes, I lost Doomie, too. Tried ta build him again, but I could never find the parts."

"Babes?"

"Yeah. That's what I called Lydia. Like when I call you 'kitten'. Same thing," he said with a shrug.

No, it wasn't the same thing. If it was, he'd call me 'babes', too. But he was a guy. He wouldn't understand it if I told him.

"So," I started when he didn't continue, "what's her name?"

Beetlejuice shrugged again. "Dunno. Haven't come up with anythin' yet."

If I wasn't already 'Kitty', I'd suggest that. And 'Neko' wouldn't work because she looked like a Mustang, which wasn't a japanese car.

I went through all the horses whose names I could remember: Skydancer, Tiny, Boon Tracker . . . .

"Phoenix?" Ah, yes, she was a feisty little colt.

"How the fuck did you come up with that? She's a Mustang who purrs and has cat eyes."

"I knew a horse named Phoenix."

"A horse."

"That's what I said. Besides, shouldn't we ask the car is she likes it?" Not waiting for an answer from the poltergeist, I knelt in front of the red Mustang. "Hey, what do you think of 'Phoenix'?"

The car just looked at me.

"Okay, I guess you don't like that. How about 'Scarlet'?"

Meep, meep!

~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had just gotten back to the Roadhouse after taking Scarlet for a test drive. Seems she was a bit of a speed demon. I absolutely loved her, and I think she's rather fond of me, too. She acted like a typical cat towards Beetlejuice, though. She'll put up with him.

I curled up on the couch and turned on the tv. Wonderful thing about Neitherworld tv: all the shows were something that showed in the Livingrealm. But the Neitherworld didn't get it until it was either cancelled or it was over. So I couldn't watch Heroes over here yet, but Dollhouse had just started.

"Ya plan on gettin' kidnapped again, tonight?" Beetlejuice asked when he sat next to me.

I pretended to think about it. "No, don't think so. But you know me. I like to be all spontaneous. Why? What's up?"

"Nights wants to do this gig."

What's life without a little melodrama? I leaned over the arm of the couch, flung the back of my hand to my forehead, and said all dramatically, "You're leaving me? Oh, cruel fates! How will I ever survive without you! Even though it would only be for a little bit, I can't bear the thought of being separated from you! My poor, mortal heart couldn't take it. Thou art--" Then I screamed. "You bastard! Stop tickling me!

But he didn't! That damn ghost had me pinned in the corner of the couch. Never shoulda let him figure out I was extremely ticklish. I tried twisting to get away, but when that didn't work, I tried kicking.

"If you don't stop I'll bite you!" I managed to say between gasps.

"Yer not gonna bite me."

Snarling, I twisted again to get his shoulder in range and bit him (not hard, obviously) and made nom nom sounds.

He jerked back and I grinned. "Ha! I nomed your shoulder."

"Ya bit me."

"I told ya I would!"

And then he attacked me again! Gah! Fuckin' bastard! This time I got a hold of his tie and started pulling back. Complete with growls, of course.

Which was how Ginger and Jacques found us.

"It's not what you think," I said around the tie still in my mouth. Yeah, Beetlejuice might have his hands on my waist and me under him, with my hands pushing against his chest, and his tie in my mouth, but it really wasn't what they were thinking. Assuming they were thinking what I thought they were thinking. And if they were thinking what I though they were thinking what did that say about my thought process. Probably my mind's been in the gutter for too long.

It times like these I wish I were a telepath.

~*~*~*~*~*

The gig turned out to be something at the bar they always go to. The Three Fates, I think. Beej wasn't telling me what it was exactly, but he said I'd like it.

I was sitting with Derrick, waiting for whatever it was to happen.

"So, Derrick," I said after some awkward silence.

"Yeah?"

"You and Nights are married?"

"Yup. About fifteen years now."

My jaw dropped. Fifteen years?! But, he was only, what, late twenties? Unless he wasn't alive.

"I thought you were a breather," I said, very confused.

"I am. I never died. When a breather marries a ghost, they pretty much become immortal. It's kinda annoyin' actually."

"Oh. Do you two have any kids? Would that even work?"

"Yeah it would work. It's possible to have half-ghosts. But Nights . . . can't."

"Wow, that . . . sucks." Yup, that's me. Skilled in the arts of communication.

He shrugged. "It happens."

Any further conversation was cut off when the lights went out, and a spotlight illuminated the little stage. Oooo, fancy.

I had the feeling we were going to have to sit through some stand-up comedy.

But that feeling quickly vanished when I heard an acoustic guitar. Complicated chords ghosting through the air. They started out slow, taking on a spanish tone as they got slightly faster. I looked over at Derrick, and he nodded his head towards the stage. Switching my attention there, I nearly squealed. Nights was wearing a halter top dark red dress with full, flowing skirts, and matching heels. She was stomping her feet in time to the guitar music provided by Beetlejuice.

To be honest, I never thought I would see them performing flamenco.

Although, this was the first time I've ever seen a flamenco performance without any vocals. I guess Kowai can't sing?

I stared at them, pleasant chills running up and down my spine, as they got faster, and far more complicated. Soon, I remembered I was a breather and to, therefore, breath. But, damn, I wanted nothing more than to get up there and dance. Ever since I saw Strictly Ballroom, I've wanted to dance flamenco, and seeing my latin dance teacher do it only made me want it more.

Too soon, the blondes finished, and I immediately bounded up to the stage to glomp them both.

Well, I would have glomped them if I hadn't tripped. I kinda ended up crashing into Nights. Good thing I didn't crash into Beej. That poor guitar would have gotten crushed!

"Wow! Nights, that was totally awesome! Teach me, teach me, teach me!" Then I turned to look at Beej. "I didn't know you could play guitar." Before he could say anything, I returned my attention to Nights. "Pleeeeeeezzzzzzeeeee!!!! I promise I'll practice everyday. And I could sing, too! I even have a CD we could use for practice!" I fell to my knees. "Please, please, please!"

She smirked and looked down at me. "Do you even know what kinda dance this was?"

"Flamenco."

Nights blinked and exchanged a glance with Beetlejuice. "I didn't think she'd know."

I saw him shrug. "She's a dancer. Why wouldn't she know?"

Yes, I am a dancer. But how did he know?

AN: Okay, Kitty doesn't know Beej "borrowed" her journal. So she doesn't know he knows all that stuffs. The chapter title isn't what I wanted to use, but I couldn't find the lyrics to what I wanted, and I only just ordered the CD off of Amazon a few hours ago. So it's not like I can listen to it a few times to find a good part. Oh, and stretching this story out for it to take a year in RealTime isn't looking good. I'm out of extra ideas. But if there's anything in particular you want to see, then I can probably work it in. I'm thinking a fashion show might be down the line. See?! These are the kinda ideas I'm coming up with!!