How Do I Loathe Thee?
AN: ...I was an eager beaver. I said in my profile I'd post on the 17th, but what's a half hour? On another note... Geez guys, what a warm response! You're fast on your way to turning me into a review junkie. Thanks a ton for all lovely reviews, story alerts and favs! I feel loved! Or at least like a semi-competent writer, which is just as good!
I have found, and keep finding litters of typos and errors in the previous chapter, and I've attempted to keep up with them, but again, any help on your part to make this thing look clean is mondo appreciated.
Chapter Two:
I Hate the Way You Cut Your Hair
There was a word for the way Zuko felt at that moment, a special word that so perfectly encompassed the enormity of the situation, the shameful stupidity of it. He stood, or loitered more accurately, by Katara Wattribe's locker with a jumbo sized Twix bar in hand. Doofus, he realized at last. He felt like a doofus. He sighed and leaned against the metal lockers, resting one foot back against them. He let his hair fall into his eyes so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the passers-by. He never had to try very hard to keep people away, they were afraid of him already.
Rumors swirled in the very air of Avatar Memorial High School. People lived off of them and exhaled new ones as quickly as they absorbed the old. According to general consensus, Zuko was a juvenile delinquent who spent a year in juvie in his old town (some nondescript and completely interchangeable big city) which was why he was held back a year. The scar, it was said, came from a homeowner who'd attacked him when he attempted to break in to their house. All of it was complete bull, of course. Aside from the occasional hotel lobby pen and the innocently snuck grocery store candy when he was a small child, Zuko had never stolen anything in his life. In fact, the only time he'd ever even been inside a prison was on a class field trip in the second grade.
But for all that, he didn't see any need to correct them. He was perfectly happy keeping everyone needlessly terrified of him.
Sokka Wattribe and his sister seemed to be the only exceptions. Of course, Katara hated his guts, which, while not a terror-based emotion, certainly didn't endear him to her. And Sokka, he just had dirt on him.
He sighed. This is all Uncle's fault.
Ah, the subject approached. Katara had finally returned from her morning field hockey practice… and from the look on her face, one of her teammates must have lodged a hockey stick up her-
"Move." Katara glared at him in a way that would surely have been intimidating were he not a whole head taller than her (but still kind of was, regardless).
"And a good morning to you too, Sweetness," Zuko replied smoothly as he side stepped out of the way of her locker. "And did you have a pleasant practice this morning?"
"Bite me," she seethed. Irritation muddling her concentration, she fiddled with her locker combination and failed to open it no less than three times before it finally clicked in release. Then, because he hadn't seemed to take the hint, she faced him. "Did you want something, or are you just here to annoy me?"
"Can't it be both?"
"You are such a jerk," she growled.
Zuko rubbed the back of his head. This was more than a little counterproductive, especially if he ever wanted to escape kitchen detailing duty. "About that... The other day I mean…"
"What about it?" She asked, throwing her books into her back with obvious misplaced aggression.
"I… wanted to apologize," he said at last.
Katara stopped terrorizing the contents of her locker to give Zuko a skeptical once-over. "Why?"
"Because I was out of line?" he tried.
"Nope, try again."
"Alright, my uncle forced me," he admitted. "But… well, I mean, regardless, I was out of line. It…" Zuko sighed again, "I was having a bad day and I guess I took it out on you and I shouldn't have." He brushed the hair away from his good eye. "Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that you have a thing for Twix bars. Consider this a peace offering." He held the large package out to her.
"You expect a king sized Twix to fix this situation?" Katara demanded, though not even hesitating to accept the treat.
"Well, not exactly." He scratched at his nose absently.
She threw the candy bar into her bag and slammed her locker shut. "What else were you thinking, then?"
"Dinner? Maybe a movie?"
Katara froze; her critical eyes jumped to his face. "Wait a second, are you seriously asking me out on a date?"
"Seriously," he promised.
Zuko's ego took a bit of a hit when she burst out laughing.
"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully.
"More like a hell no!" Katara managed to say as she grabbed her sides. "Oh man, wow." Then she launched into an insulting, yet surprisingly dead-on Zuko impression, "I'm sorry I was a prick, wanna hit the town? Buwahahaha!"
"Oh, come on," he whined, "I just want to apologize properly!"
"Not my problem," she replied, wiping a mirthful tear from her eye as she walked away. "Thanks for the laugh though, I needed that."
Zuko scowled and turned heel; his first class was in the opposite direction. He made a short detour though, and paused as he came to a darkened hallway.
"How'd it go?"
"She said no."
"Well, we'll just have to convince her to change her mind, is all." Sokka Wattribe rubbed his hands together as he let out a low chuckle.
Zuko raised his good eyebrow and wondered at himself for keeping such company.
After third period, Zuko happened to have another run-in with Sokka, who seemed prone to frequently materialize from the shadows of the lesser-used areas of the school. "According to certain reliable sources, we may have found you an in with the subject."
"Certain reliable sources?" the scarred boy asked dubiously.
"Katara's fanboy, Aang," Sokka supplied. "He's got history class with her and it sounds like she's not doing too well."
"So?"
"Soooo," Sokka drawled, making little circles in the air with his fingers, "if she can't keep up her grades in that class, she'll be kicked off the team. The field hockey team, which is her life. If I recall correctly, you're something of a history aficionado, aren't you?"
"I get by," he said guardedly.
"Great, then you can offer to tutor her!" Then he added in a whisper behind his hand, "For a price."
"You want me to dangle her grade over her head to get a date out of her," Zuko surmised.
"Basically, yeah."
"That seems a little… low." Zuko crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, giving Sokka an expectant look. "Why do I does it feel like there's something else at work here? Because, usually, an apology entails getting back into someone's good graces... not blackmail. Why are you so dead set on me taking her on a date?"
"Alright," Sokka threw his hands into the air dramatically. "You caught me. The thing is, I need Katara to go on a date. If she doesn't start dating before senior prom, I won't be able to ask Suki, and if I can't go with Suki, I'll die. You don't want to have my death on your hands, do you?"
Zuko rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on. "My Uncle is in on this too, isn't he?"
"It was his idea to make you apologize with a date, if that's what you're asking." Sokka slyly replied.
"For once, just once, I wish I had some say in my own life," Zuko said to no one in particular.
"That's overrated, my friend," the Wattribe boy threw an arm companionably over Zuko's shoulders. "Anyway, are you in?"
"As if I had a choice."
"That's the spirit!" He slapped his friend on the shoulder. "She's supposed to meet with Miss Wu about her grade after school today, room 303. Be there." And with that, Sokka was reabsorbed into the shadows.
Zuko groaned into his hands.
For the second time that day, Zuko found himself loitering (like a doofus) by the lockers; this time just outside room 303. Inside, Katara was having a heated discussion with Miss Wu, history teacher extraordinaire, about the precarious situation her grades were in. And this time, he wasn't alone. A short pale kid waited with him.
"I remember you," Zuko said at length. "Your locker was across from mine last year."
"Yeah," the kid nodded. "I remember."
An awkward silence rolled in like a thick fog. The kid was staring at him, just staring. His grey eyes held more contempt and hatred than Zuko had seen in a long time... Not including Katara, of course. It was starting to give him the creeps.
"You skipped a couple grades or something, right?" he said conversationally, hoping to abate the awkwardness and get the kid to quit glaring like that.
"Yeah, and you got held back," he snapped peevishly.
Suddenly it clicked in Zuko's mind; his pint-sized animosity made perfect sense. This must be Katara's fanboy. "You're name's… Aang, right?"
He nodded.
"Did Sokka send you?"
"No, I'm here on my own," Aang said defiantly. "I'm here to make sure you realize what a great girl Katara is and to let you know that if you hurt her, I will end you. Personally."
Zuko tried not to laugh, and stifled it by biting his lip and nodding. "Sure, Katara seems like a peach."
Aang growled, balling his fists. "I'm serious! She's the kindest, most giving person I've ever met! I won't let a thug like you make her upset!"
Zuko was getting fed up. It was one thing having Katara, her brother, and his Uncle railing on him, but it was quite another matter to have this pipsqueak getting on his case. "First of all, I'm not a thug. Second of all, I'm not on some evil mission to mess with her. And third, the second she shows me anything but contempt, maybe I'll start to believe you, but until then, she's just the girl who's forcibly, if unknowingly, hijacked my life. Got it?"
"Yeah, whatever," Aang mumbled. "And anyway, I don't know why you agreed to this. I thought you had a girlfriend. What was her name, Ming or Meng-"
"Mai," Zuko corrected automatically. "Her name was Mai and we… we broke up. Over the summer."
Aang blinked. "Oh. What happened?"
Zuko pushed himself off the lockers and moved to lean on the adjacent wall. "What happened is none of your business." He glanced to the door, "I don't think Katara's going to be in there much longer, so maybe you should take a hike."
"Fine," the shorter boy sniffed, stalking off, "but remember what I said; you hurt her, and you'll regret it."
Zuko rolled his eyes. This whole fiasco reminded of a phrase is mother used to say, something about a "peanut circus". He never understood what that meant until this moment, now that he was so thoroughly entrapped in one.
Katara was not having a good day. To start, she over slept, which made her late to practice, which prompted Coach Paku to veritably hand her ass to her, then she had to deal with Zuko, the stuck up asshole trying to sweet talk her into a date -a date!- of all things, which just screamed conspiracy, and then she had to find out she was practically flunking history and was therefore, on the verge of being kicked off the team. In short, she probably shouldn't have even gotten out of bed. Her chat with Miss Wu about her grades was a fruitless endeavor too. There was no sweet-talking out of this. There was a little extra credit, but it was clear that unless Katara found herself a tutor, there was no way she'd be able to get the necessary A on the up-coming midterm to earn a passable grade on the next progress report.
It just figured that she'd find the teashop brat waiting for her as she exited room 303.
She glared at him. "Let me guess, you heard about my troubles in history through the grapevine."
"Good guess." Zuko picked himself up from the wall and kept pace with her as she hurried out of the school. "It just so happens I'm pretty good at history, top of my class, even. I'd be happy to help you out, if you did something for me first."
"Ugh, you are such a pig!"
"What? I only want a date, clean and simple." It was starting to get a little frustrating, her refusal. He wasn't such a bad catch, after all. "I'll pay and be polite and keep my hands where you can see them at all times, I swear, and in return, I'll help you bring up your grade."
Katara stopped short and pivoted, nearly colliding into him. "What exactly are you getting out of this?" she asked behind narrowed eyes.
"My Uncle has me doing kitchen detailing." Zuko sighed dramatically. "That's all he has me doing. I mean, don't get me wrong, having a spotless kitchen is all well and good, but he's having me clean under the burners and deep vat fryers and in all the nooks and crannies in the walk-in refrigerator and it's disgusting! I hate it, and he won't let me stop until I've taken you on a date to make up for my behavior."
She rolled the information over in her head. "I see."
"You do?" He blinked in surprise. Her response, her tone sounded almost… reasonable.
Katara sighed, as if to collect herself. "Two things," she held up two fingers. "One, I can appreciate your honesty with this whole situation. Two, if you really want to take me on a date, you'll have to get permission from my father first."
"Y-your father?" He paled a bit. The Mayor.
She nodded, "If you're serious about taking me out, you have to go through the proper channels. And please get on it soon, because if I have to find another tutor, I'd like to know sooner than later." With that, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and flounced away, leaving Zuko glued to the speckled tile floor of the school.
His life was officially unfair. Cruel and unusual came to mind.
At that moment, his cell phone began vibrating violently in his pocket. It was a number he didn't recognize. He answered hesitantly, already half-expecting the identity of the caller. "Hello?"
"How'd it go?" Sokka asked, not bothering with a proper greeting.
"I've made progress, I think." It was a waste of time, he decided, being surprised that Sokka had his phone number. He'd rather not know how he got it anyway.
"Good," he replied. "What did she say?"
"That all I had to do is get her father's permission."
Sokka made a noise that sounded something like a stabbed kitten, which Zuko took to be a bad sign.
"That gonna be a problem?" he asked warily.
"Don't worry about it," Sokka choked. "Just do your asking and I'll take care of the rest. Don't worry, this is happening. Katara may think she's won, but the battle is far from over."
With that, Sokka hung up. Zuko ran a hand down his face and trudged slowly out of the school and into the fading afternoon sunlight, wondering what was becoming of his life that had seemed so promising, once upon a time. He may as well get his fate over with. The mayor's office was a twenty minute drive downtown, and as it was pushing four o'clock, he needed to get a move on.
Hakoda stared at the young man incredulously. "You want to take Katara out on a date?"
"Yes sir," Zuko replied politely, blushing under the intense gaze of his bane's father.
"And she said yes?" he asked, disbelief permeating his tone.
"She said I needed to get your permission first, sir," Zuko swallowed thickly, then added a slightly over-exuberant, "So here I am!"
The Mayor sat back in his arm chair and rubbed his chin. On the one hand, this could be some cockamamie ploy by Sokka to get Katara to start dating, but on the other hand, the boy did seem sincere enough. That said, Hakoda wasn't incredibly pleased with the boy's attire. He looked like one of those anti-social loner types; heavy looking combat boots, loose-fitting black pants that only hoped to stay up because of a tightly cinched belt, an obscure band t-shirt, and a studded black leather band on his wrist. If he didn't have such honest eyes (and a noticeable lack of piercings and tattoos), Hakoda would've had half a mind to kick the kid out of his office.
"I'll tell you what," he said, leaning over his desk and steepling his fingers together. Katara had good enough judgment, and if nothing else, a couple quick phone calls would shed some light on the wanna-be punk's story. "I'll talk to Katara about this and I'll have her give you a call later on tonight with my final say."
Zuko took his dismissal gratefully and was so relived to be out of there, he almost looked forward to his shift at the teashop... almost.
Three hours later, just as his shift at the Jasmine Dragon was finishing up, Zuko got another call on his cell phone from an unrecognized number. He propped his broom against the wall and answered hesitantly. "Hello?"
"Friday," the monotone voice said. "Six o'clock. Dinner and a movie."
"Katara?"
"Yes, Katara," she snapped. "My father seems to think you're not scum, and my brother threatened to tell him about my grade in history if I didn't agree, so, again, Friday at six o'clock. I'll expect you to pick me up."
"A-alright," Zuko said, a bit shell-shocked from how easily everything was progressing. Sokka had in fact followed through with his promise.
"And I get to pick the place and the movie," she added sourly.
"Sure," he agreed. It was only one night, after all -he was sure he'd survived worse. "Friday at six, I'll be there."
"Good, okay," she said. Then there was a pause. "By the way, just so you know, I think your hair is stupid."
Wait… what? "E-excuse me?"
"You heard me," she growled. "You're hair; it's stupid! It's all flippy and depressing, like you're a reject from some emo boy-band. I hate it."
"O-kay," Zuko was, and reasonably so, unsure how to respond.
There was a sigh on the other line. "We'll discuss the terms of the tutoring schedule tomorrow morning. Meet me at my locker." And with that, the line went dead.
Zuko flipped his phone closed and grabbed onto the broom again, using it as a sort of crutch as he processed what had happened during his thirty-second conversation. He looked up just in time to catch Uncle Iroh grinning at him from the kitchen doorway. He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that his life was no longer his to control, sweeping up the last corner of the kitchen.
Later that night, Zuko found himself lying awake in his bed, wondering and worrying about the trials the Wattribe family was going to put him through, and whether or not he really would survive the date. His dreams that night were filled with the hateful stare of Aang, Sokka's disembodied voice, the gleaming eyes of his Uncle, and Katara's cruel laughter.
.
.
Well, that's all for Chapter Two. Chapter Three, or, "I Hate the Way You Drive my Car," is sure to be a doozie. Not only does it include the infamous First Date, but it also introduces another beloved member of the GAang. Here's a sneak peak...
"You know Haru?"
"Who doesn't know Haru?" Katara laughed, nearly tripping over her feet in the process, "His mustache is legendary." Haru Smallchilde was a boy in her brother's grade with supermodel good looks and an inexplicable handlebar mustache. He was eccentric to say the least, and very hard to miss. He was a nice kid though, despite his strangeness.
"Well, it so happens that his parents are out of town this weekend." If she wasn't running the track at that moment, it would be easy to imagine her rapping her fingertips together deviously. "Rumor has it he's throwing a party Friday night…" She let her voice trail so Katara could put the pieces together herself.
"You are a genius."
"Duh," Toph Bei Fong scoffed at the obviousness of her statement, "...Sweetness." She tossed her cute head back and cackled.
...
I can't remember if Haru was officially introduced in M. Night Shyamallama's abomination, but if the kid I think he was supposed to be is in fact Haru, I am extremely disappointed because there is NO WAY he will age fast enough through the sequence of movies (if they continue with them, anyway) in order to produce his most excellent specimen of male facial hair. That is also why his last name is Smallchilde, because that's what Shyamallama made him. I've cried myself to sleep too many nights over this...
If you want to see an awesome fanvid to make up for Shyamallama's disgraceful representation of Haru, look up GanXingba on Youtube and watch "A:TAS- Haru Beauty Products". Actually, just go ahead and watch his entire collection of "Avatar: The Abridged Series" videos because they are made of awesome and win.
That's all for now. Peace out.
-Doily-