AN- Here we go with the drama~ You better be ready, cuz it's about to get GOOD.
Zim is still fuming by the time the group reaches the picnic tables. It's like Dib just can't shut up! It's "alien this, alien that, Zim, Zim, Zim." Normally Zim wouldn't mind this, but Dib's talking to this girl with a large, excited smile planted on his large, excited head! Zim can't stand it. He clenches and unclenches his fists over and over, trying to calm himself.
"Alright, campers!" says Mr. Whitemore, standing in front of the table, where there's bowls, wooden spoons, flour, eggs, cornmeal. . . and what appears to be a small, old-fashioned oven. "To start the day off, we'll be making cornbread!"
"Oh, yay!" says Keef. The rest of the group is mostly silent. Honestly, Keef would be happy if Mr. Whitemore were to tell them they were writing essays on the lifespan of dust bunnies. "Cornbread is yummy! Don't you think so, Quinn?" So Quinn is the top tier, it seems. Thank goodness.
"Yeah. . . ," Quinn says softly, smiling slightly.
"Great!" Mr. Whitemore says, smiling brightly. "You ready to get started?"
Keef's eyes sparkle, and he nods enthusiastically. "Yes, yes!" He rushes to the table, grabbing a bowl and holding a spoon up like a baton. "I'm ready!" Noemi is the next to follow suit, giggling as she picks up a bowl and a spoon and pantomimes mixing batter. Quinn shyly walks over after, standing on the other side of Keef as he picks up a wooden spoon and turns it over in his hand. He leans forward slightly and looks at Noemi, before leaning back again and looking back at his spoon, blushing. Tix and Yeci sit down at the other side of the table, whispering furtively to each other while they look at the other group with disdainful eyes. Abby sits next to them, surprisingly quiet as she tolerates Dib, who sits directly across from her, still blabbering. Zim is the last to sit, choosing to plop down next to Dib, scowling.
"So you'll see that there's a stack of paper in the middle of the table. That's the recipe." Each child reaches forward and grabs a sheet for themselves. "You'll each make your own batch of batter, which we'll mix together at the end and bake altogether! Does that sound good to everyone?"
They all smile and nod. . . all except for Zim, who is reaching for his sheet of paper. Just as he lifts it up, however, there is a tug on the other side of it. He looks up, glaring at whoever dares to pull on his sheet of paper. Abby is holding onto the other side of the paper, her brown eyes narrowed dangerously. "This is my recipe," she hisses, taking another pull on the paper. "I grabbed it first." She nods at the last sheet of paper, thickly coated in flour. "You can have that one."
Zim grumbles as he releases the sheet and snatches up the flour-covered paper. Oh, she will pay. Not now. But very, very soon. Oh yes, she will regret the very day she ever messed with Zim!
Apparently, very soon is even sooner than Zim had expected. Just as Zim finishes his batter, he hears a soft, fleeting, sort of cute chuckle from beside him. But. . . no. No! The Dib is not cute! Why would he even think that? Now, what on Earth is Dib so. . . so giggley about?
Zim looks up. The Abby-Beast. Of course. How dare she make Zim think stupid things about the Dib-Stink? How dare she? She has no right to make Dib smile and laugh, just by ignoring him! Only Zim can treat Dib that way! That pitiful little. . . Oh, Zim will show her pain and humiliation like she has never known before!
Zim lunges forward, launching himself onto the table, knocking over his bowl of batter. All eyes are on him as he yanks Abby forward, her brown eyes wide as she shrieks. Pathetic human. He takes her and pins her to the table, all while taking a large scoop of cornbread batter out of his fallen bowl. He smashes it into her face, and she makes muffled sounds of objection as she tries to shove him off of her.
At last she succeeds, although barely as she wipes the batter away from her eyes. She grabs her bowl and dumps the contents of it over Zim's head. Zim growls as he finds his wig thickly coated in the sticky substance. He's neglected to bring a spare. . . Oh, how this will be a pain to wash!
He grabs a bag of flour from nearby, emptying half of it on Abby's misshapen head. She looks like a ghost when covered in white– it suits her. Abby raises a hand to her head in shock. She scrapes some of the ghostly white off of her hair, revealing the haunting black underneath.
She pounces on Zim, repeatedly whapping him with a wooden spoon. She isn't too powerful, but the hits still sting. Zim is about to retaliate when–
"Zim! Abby!" the pair is quickly yanked apart by Mr. Whitemore, who scowls as they retreat back to the other sides of the table. "I'm disappointed in both of you." Zim almost rolls his eyes. As if he hasn't heard this before. "I thought you could handle such responsibility, but now I see that we'll just have to make cornbread some other day."
"What does cornbread have to do with responsibility?" Dib interjects, raising an eyebrow.
Mr. Whitemore shushes him. "Now, I want you two to both apologize to each other. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mr. Whitemore," Abby and Zim chorus, looking at each other uncertainly. Their eyes narrow, and they silently battle over who speaks first.
Zim decides to take the initiative, and he grumbles, "I am so very sorry, Abby-Filth, for giving you the medicine you so rightfully needed to drink."
Abby forces a smile, but her glare hardly subsides. "I forgive you, Zim," she says through gritted teeth. "And I'm sorry for doing absolutely nothing to upset you."
"Apology accepted."
Mr. Whitemore smiles. "Good! Now why don't you all take a break, hmm? I think we all need one."
"What about the mess?" asks Dib, his eyes scanning the mess of batter, flour, and kitchen utensils.
"The squirrels will eat it."
"Oo-kay then. . ."
"Honestly, Zim! Sometimes I just can't believe you! Do you think violence is the answer to. . . well, everything? You don't just go tackling people for no good reason! What did she ever do to you? Huh? . . . Are you even listening?" Dib glares to his right, where Zim sits, obviously distracted by something else. He's so rude.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, that's very nice, Dib-Stink."
"Would you stop calling me that?"
Zim just lightly growls, resting his chin on his palm. He clearly isn't paying attention. Dib crosses his arms and turns away from him, frowning. Sometimes he hates Zim so much. . .
Wait. No. All the time.
Zim's eyes narrow as he stares across the cafeteria. He's rested his gaze on Abby, who is currently obtaining her food (which appears to be edible by human standards). The girl looks ridiculous with that dried batter in her hair. . . It looks disgustingly crusty, so much so that it almost makes Zim shudder. Almost. But mostly he just glares. There's also flour still stuck to her grey shirt. It reminds Zim of clouds blocking out the sun. Except Abby is anything but sunny.
She catches his gaze as she walks by, and glares back for a moment before looking ahead.
"Oh– Abby!" Abby flinches, her eyes riveting in the direction of Dib, who is waving to her.
She clenches her teeth and stubbornly turns away, letting out a quiet, "Hmph!" as she walks away. Tix, Yeci, and Noemi follow– but not before Noemi manages a small smile, waving at Keef and Quinn. Tix slaps her hand down, glaring at her accusingly.
"Don't talk to them," she hisses. Noemi obeys, risking a small glance back at the table.
Dib turns to Zim, who is still staring after the girls, his jaw set at an odd angle. He glares hard at Zim, but it's hopeless– Zim won't look at him. Oh, screw it– why should he need Zim to look at him? "Look what you've done now, Zim! Abby hates me!"
Zim turns his head so suddenly that Dib almost jumps. "She never liked you much in the first place," he points out, his voice laced with venom. "All she did was just frown and nod and tolerate you. She didn't even care! Zim could do that if he felt like it!"
"That's just it, isn't it?" Dib says, leaning closer to the alien without even realizing it. "You feel like it– you never will! All you can do is harass me; you don't even try to tolerate me." He stands up, picking up his tray. "And I actually thought I might make some friends on this trip."
"You have us," Keef offers, his smile blinding in its brightness. "Me and Quinn– we're your friends, right?"
Dib's glare subsides, but his face is still deadpan. "Maybe. . . I guess." He looks back to his tray, still in his hands, and hesitantly sits back down. He was going to leave. . . but that would be pointless. He'd just be stuck in his cabin, all alone; and Zim would show up sooner or later. So he'll stay. For now.
Next to him, Zim frowns, resting his chin in his palm again.
AN- 1,610 words. Pretty good.
Keep those reviews coming! I'm halfway done with Chapter 4, and I think it's turning out really well.