All Stars (part 37 of 48)

a Original Fiction fanfiction by Al Kristopher

Back to Part 36
September 28th, Friday, Carnegie University Campus

9:00 am

 

"Well, Scottie, this is it. The day has finally arrived."

"Yeah, I've been waitin' for this for a long time. I still can't believe 
we're really going through with it."

"I know. I'm actually kinda embarrassed, but if I hafta do it with 
someone..."

"I'm happy ya chose me. I'm honored. Are ya ready?"

"Gimme just a moment. I wanna wait just a little bit longer. It's 
like...waiting for a game that could decide ya whole future."

"Or ya birthday when you were a kid."

"Yeah. ...Okay, Scott, I'm ready now. Take me, please."

"Your hand, first, milady." Shannon grinned warmly as their fingers 
entwined. They walked up to the counter and said, "Two, please."

"Jinx," Scott smiled. Shannon roared and let go of his hand.

"Dammit, Scott! You completely ruined the mood!"

"Relax, soon-to-be-silent Shannon. It's only a cahnival." Shannon stared 
at the hapless ticket clerk, who gazed back with empty, lifeless eyes- 
and beyond that, Carnegie's fundraising carnival blossomed like a 
monument. Her date for the afternoon pushed her in and promised he'd 
release her from the Curse of Jinx "eventually". Shannon swore she'd get 
back at him, somehow.

 

In this wide world

People you're meant to meet can be seen

Beyond the window, beyond the rainbow

I think you're aware of them

Take off that restrictive weight

Let your feelings go

Now keep your ears open and wait for that time

Awaken now

Cherish the little dream you've drawn in the vast sky

If you do, you can always become happy

It's certain, whoa whoa!

 

For the Benefit of Mr. Fitzgerald

 

Carnegie's annual benefit convention was as much a tradition as 
Christmas and the flu: guaranteed to be held the same time every year, 
regardless of the weather or the turnout, the gimmicks different but the 
gist remaining the same. Back when the university was just starting, the 
board of directors barely had any money in their budget for supplies, so 
they unanimously decided to hold a fundraiser in hopes that their fiscal 
year would be easier. Fitzgerald had suggested a fencing tournament as 
the debut performance, mostly to garner support for his growing school, 
and the event had went so well that he was elected to host the next 
year's events. Not one to rely on familiar tricks to get the job done, 
he opted for a benefit concert, with a live orchestra and choir 
performing. The third year, Rosewood took over and suggested a culinary 
festival, in which students cooked their own meals and sold them; they 
also had a competition to see whose dish was best. Up until year four, 
the fundraiser was probably the only event that both Chairman and Dean 
agreed upon, but now they were on opposite sides again, business as 
usual.

After reviewing the pile of suggestions that fell out of the democratic 
Box, Stacie decided to hold a fundraising carnival, a fairground where, 
for the price of an admission, students and visitors could take family 
and friends for a more engaging and entertaining afternoon. There were 
games, rides, events, contests, prizes, food, and lots of good company, 
and feedback was overwhelmingly positive so far. Fitzgerald's ideas 
weren't bad, but Rosewood felt like the students ought to be able to 
interact more with their school and their peers, and fencing 
competitions and concerts, while very atmospheric, could not provide the 
same sense of joy. Fitzgerald vehemently disagreed with the "frivolous 
waste of energy and resources", even though revenue was the highest it 
had ever been.

"This is not an elementary school, nor a public school pep rally," he 
reminded her just two days before opening ceremonies. "I would think 
that after entering adulthood, many of our students would prefer a more 
stimulating event. Degrading ourselves for a dollar is not my idea of a 
smart move, or the proper way to represent ourselves."

"But the responses I've gotten in regards to this decision have been 
very supportive. Most of our instructors had a hand in it as well, and 
all the staff seem to embrace it. Helmuth, really now," she said, idly 
crossing her arms. "Why are you acting so upset? Wherever does it say 
that we must disregard a few childish behaviors at a certain age? I can 
guarantee that you will change your mind if we can raise enough for your 
music hall." He smirked at her rather darkly, almost a sneer with his 
face.

"If that happens, I'll apologize. But don't expect me to participate. 
Surely you won't."

"Oh, I'll have a small hand in it," she murmured humbly.

 

"Step right up, one and all! Step right up and dunk the Dean! One dollar 
buys three balls! That's right, a single dollar gets you three balls 
which you can use to dunk the Dean! I promise the water's ice-cold and 
the target's so easy to hit that a child could do it! Step right up and 
help our school! Dunk the Dean for only a dollar!"

"She's really getting into it," Mary tittered. She hid her face and 
stepped further into the shadows, lest someone see the family 
resemblance.

"Well, mother always has been the type to put her money where her mouth 
is," Jerry said- also from the shadows. "I think she's going about it 
the wrong way, though."

"Oh? Do you think she should've worn a swimsuit after all?"

"No," he muttered bashfully. "She should've asked the Chairman to do 
this."

"I know!" Mary exclaimed, laughing long and hard. "If Evil Lord Gary sat 
up there, there'd be a line a mile long! We'd have the money to buy a 
whole nother' school and then some!"

"Pride does strange things to a person," Elisa sighed. She wouldn't dare 
approach the dunking game, not even if it were free. She had recently 
been introduced to the Dean during a private dinner and didn't want to 
get on her bad side. "Mr. Fitzgerald may save face in the short term, 
but if the Dean manages to amass a fortune by doing this, he'll never 
live it down. Oh dear. Um- hello, Shannon! Goodness, is that your date?"

"Yeah right!" she snorted, shoving her elbow in his ribs. Scott 
retaliated by bopping her on the head.

"She wishes. She-Ra here wouldn't know a hot date if it sat on her. I'm 
only takin' her cuz' she blew all her money swipin' curry from where she 
works."

"I didn't swipe it! That's my lunch and it comes outta my paycheck! 
Sides', you ain't man enough to even taste it."

"That's cuz' I don't go and eat crazy food like you. Ey' Jerry, you 
wanna take this palooka off my hands? Careful, she bites."

"But you look like such an adorable couple," he deadpanned. Elisa 
giggled, and the two childhood friends hit each other again. Shannon 
rubbed her head and looked up just in time to watch Valencia dunk 
Rosewood.

"Ugh...sorry there, Ms. Rosewood!" she said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Stacie replied, smiling in spite of the icy 
cling of her clothes. Rosewood had hoped her involvement would draw a 
crowd; she always knew there was a correlation between humiliation of 
the elite and satisfaction of the masses. A few steps down, Arthur 
Warren had taken her idea and put his own twist on it: throw a pie at 
the annoying history teacher.

"Now's your chance, boys and girls!" he exclaimed. "Time to get revenge 
for all those tests! Time to take out your aggression for those essays 
and speeches I made ya write! Come on, just try and have a crack at me! 
One dollar is all it takes to make your dreams come t- "

Thump! The first of many smacked him right on the nose. He wiped it off 
silently.

"Wonderful shot, Miss Ofdensen."

"There's a lot more where that came from," she grinned, spinning one on 
her finger before hitting him on the head. Cream and pudding penetrated 
his hair and seeped into his eyes and nose; he had to use a sponge to 
get most of it out.

"You should've been a pitcher instead of a goalie," he smirked.

Thump!

"I am never going to leave," Lauren beamed, giving the concessions man 
another five dollars. Arthur groaned and asked for more sponges.

"Darn it, why does she gotta hog all the good ones?" Shannon sighed. 
Scott just shrugged and tugged at her shoulder.

"She's got to run outta money sometime. Why don't we go play that 
balloon dart game in the meantime? Hey, there's a cakewalk, too!"

"I hate cakewalks," she grumbled. "I nevah win anything. All I do is get 
dizzy."

"I could always just get'cha a funnel cake."

"Balloon darts first," she insisted, pulling him along. Shannon Threal 
and Scott Bardine had an interesting relationship. She was physically 
stronger than him by far, but she also had a wilder temper and was much 
more outspoken about her feelings. Scott had played the part of doctor 
during their long relationship, always ready with a med-kit on hand to 
patch up his roughhousing princess. He was also the brains and the voice 
of reason between the two, and had saved her from making a fool of 
herself countless times.

Not surprisingly, Terra and Amy were cleaning up at the balloon dart 
games; they had a rather unfair advantage. Years of training under the 
martial arts gave them excellent precision. While Terra claimed more 
than a few toys for her own, Amy didn't keep any of her prizes. Instead, 
she wandered around, giving them away to kids and anyone that looked 
less fortunate, since she knew how painful that sometimes was. She had 
no use for them anyway, and she condemned clinging onto material goods. 
She even gave one to Shannon, who probably couldn't hit the ground if 
she dropped her dart.

"Thanks," she sighed, taking an imitation Chinese fan and applying it to 
herself. The weather was still warm- tee shirt and shorts warm- and 
Threal was building up a sweat. Scott merely smirked as he carried a 
handful of prizes and thrust one of them into her arms. "You are an 
ass," she stated.

 

- Lauren Ofdensen, Hair/eye color: red, light blue; goalie/reserve-

 

"Wonder what the heck that is," she murmured as they came across a long 
line. Scott noticed that they were mostly men, rubbernecking to catch a 
glimpse at whatever they were waiting for. The two of them decided to 
check it out and walked to the front, ignoring the dirty looks from the 
crowd.

"Hey, no cutting, lesbo!"

"Lesbo?!" Shannon shrieked. "Fuck you!!"

"Take it easy, honey," Scott sighed, giving her a gentle push forward. 
"They can't help being ignorant." As they made it to the front, though, 
they realized why that man chose that specific word, and why the line 
was so long, and why so very few ladies were in it. Freya von Hohenheim 
had opened up a kissing booth.

"Figyas," Shannon sighed as she rubbed her eyes. "It's kinda ironic, 
though. She's got two galfriends and yet here she is, facing down 
five-dozen guys."

"You mean that woman is gay?" Scott balked, loud enough for a few to 
hear. The reactions from the crowd ranged from disappointment and 
disgust to excitement and desire.

"That girl's gay? Weak, dude! What a rip-off! Whoa, she's a lesbo? 
Sweet! You wanna cut, Emily?"

"Whoops," Scott muttered as the crowd thinned. "Guess I blew it. Well, 
nothin' to do now cept' to make it up to her. If she's raisin' money 
like everyone else, I may as well- "

"Yeah, nice try there, mistah philanthropist! Come on, let's see if we 
can't sign you up for the dunking booth! You need a cold showah more 
than the Dean!" She dragged him to the booth, just in time to see 
Rosewood switch places with another faculty member. Everyone looked 
disappointed and cheated.

"I need time to warm up and dry off. Don't worry, I'll be returning 
soon. Has anyone seen my children? Ah, Miss...um, Threal, was it? Where 
is Miss Berkeley?"

"I haven't seen her all day," she explained. "We was just comin' ovah 
here to volunteer our services. Scott'll take ya place and I'll be 
sendin' him in the drink!"

"There's this really hot blonde gal who set up a kissing booth," he 
explained.

"Seriously?" a few students exclaimed. They rushed off to see, grinning, 
unaware of the trap they were heading into. Freya would never kiss a man 
on the mouth, not even if he offered to donate twenty dollars. On the 
other hand, if a lady showed up...

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Rosewood said warmly, "but I'm afraid 
that only faculty may be allowed to volunteer. We wouldn't get much 
revenue if a student set themselves up. Why not play a few arcade games? 
There's one involving dancing, I believe, and there's a contest going on 
now."

"Elisa ain't gonna be there," Shannon said. "She hates dancin'. Well, 
sorry we wasted ya time. Tell us when you get back up there so we can 
lob a few."

"You mean so I can lob a few," Scott corrected. "You couldn't hit the 
broad side of a bahn at point-blank range." She angrily stepped on his 
foot, accurate though his barb may be. As they wandered through the 
carnival, browsing at all the games, prizes, concession stands (of which 
Scott, true to his word, paused to treat his friend to a funnel cake), 
and people, a conversation long time in coming came up, borne out of 
curiosity and a need to get something into the open.

"Shannon," Scott began, "don't you think you've been homophobic long 
enough? I mean, I know ya been all racked up about that day, but it was 
years ago. I think you should try'n make friends with your soccer 
buddies."

"I told ya last time, butt out," she grumbled. "It ain't like there's 
some magic thing I can do to make everything all rosy, and...just for 
your infamation, mistah, I've been makin' nice enough friends with my 
roommate and anotha gal!"

"Oh yeah? What about the othas? Don't'cha like any o' them?"

"Scott, not now. I ain't in the mood. Look, I've been doin' bettah, and 
that's all anybody could ask me to do." He looked at her for a moment, 
then took her hand. It was shaking a little. An outsider would be truly 
impressed by her progress: she had gone from almost complete bigotry to 
cautious defensiveness in two months. It wasn't easy. Aside from being 
raised on New England values and Catholic beliefs than shunned such 
practices, Shannon had been brutally traumatized by another girl's 
advances a few years prior to joining Carnegie. That, and its long, 
grueling aftermath, had left an indelible mark on her mind, like a hot 
iron digging in and searing flesh and bone. It had gotten to the point 
where she almost had no hope of ever playing again; Scott and a handful 
of other guardian angels were all that kept her on track. And now she 
was friends with two of them!

Shannon poured out her frustrations on the dancing game and gathered a 
crowd of adoring fans. The adrenaline and endorphins pumping through her 
body helped soothe her savage thoughts, and beating Scott, for once, was 
the proverbial cherry on top. Speaking of, he had a different promise to 
keep, and bought a sundae as a reward for her.

"Ya gotta watch ya figya, Shan," he warned her, playfully pinching her 
hips. Her body was like hardened rubber, flexible and firm at the same 
time, but she was also fairly ticklish, and nearly flung her hard-earned 
treat on the ground as she flailed.

"Hey, watch it, ass! I almost dropped this! I oughta make you buy me 
anotha!"

"Then you'd really start packin' on the pounds," he smiled. "So how 
about that cakewalk, huh? Now that'cha filled up on junk food, it won't 
mattah so much if you lose."

"And risk projectile vomiting? Ha, no thanks. I'm gonna go see who's at 
the dunkin' booth. Don't you ask any more personal questions, or tickle 
me again, else you'll be eating grass!"

"Ya threats are as empty as them calories you're eatin'." He knew she'd 
never be so violent; she needed him to play doctor whenever she was 
injured. Scott's mother was a pediatrician, and he was looking to follow 
in her footsteps, mostly because his best friend provided him with so 
many opportunities to practice. They actually had to pause at a first 
aid tent, run by Maria's mother, when Shannon scraped her thigh running 
around a booth. She had to be given a tetanus shot, which was no fun for 
her friend, to say the least.

"Why'd ya gotta be such a kid? You'd think ya'd be used to all this 
blood and guts business."

"Blood I can handle," she snorted. She noticed one of her two lesbian 
friends and said, "Um, hey Kasumi. What'cha in for?" The long-haired 
lady sat on the bench next to her, nursing a bruised elbow. She had 
gotten dizzy riding a small roller coaster and struck her funny bone 
hard against a wall. She revealed her injury, smiling palely, tended to 
by her vigilant girlfriend.

"Ouch. Bettah you than me, though. Look at this mess."

"Don't ask me to kiss it," Scott snorted as the two girls traded 
smooches.

"Not even if I had a busted lip," she muttered. Apparently that had been 
an inside joke between the two, for she said it with some levity. She 
took a deep breath and decided to talk to Kasumi, just to prove she did 
have lesbian friends, and could in fact tolerate them.

"So'd ya evah go to one of these things in Washington, DC?"

"No, my family lived in the ghetto. Couldn't you tell?"

"Honey, my daddy was a trucka and my motha was a bank tellah. I'm as 
middle-class, hick-town, blue-collah as they come. So's this the first 
time ya been to one?"

"I thought that was apparent from my response," she muttered. Shannon 
made a face.

"Sorry. Uh...you keepin' in touch with ya fathah?"

"Of course, we write each other all the time. What about you?"

"Daddy's always on the move, so it's hahd to get a lettah to em'. He and 
I used to be so close, but that was back when I lived with them. Back in 
bettah days. You close to ya mama?"

"No," she answered coldly. Shannon frowned and shrugged.

"Guess we gotta lot in common. I mean, my motha ain't a bad person, but 
I nevah coulda seen eye to eye with her like I could with my pops. What 
about you, uh, Val? What's yoah family do?"

She muttered something in Spanish and concluded by saying, "And they're 
always trying to marry me to one of their friend's sons. I can't believe 
they're this persistent."

"So yoah from that kinda family?"

"Sad but true," she mumbled.

"Didn't ya tell them you're, uh...you know?"

"A lesbian," Scott provided. Shannon kneed him and winced as her injury 
flared up. "Ya see, Threal, that's kahma at work. Be nice to me and 
nothin' bad's gonna happen."

"First ya gotta be nice to me," she grumbled. Valencia made a face. If 
she didn't know any better, she would've sworn those two were already 
married.

"I told them, but they didn't hear me. In one ear and out the other. My 
sister's cool with it, though. Jefe is sort of like my family, too. He's 
the one responsible for my being here."

"You must be close to ya boss to say that," Shannon mused. Val smirked 
proudly.

"I practically insulted his work the first time we met. But it all 
worked out in the end." She whispered something in Spanish and gave 
Kasumi a slow, sensual kiss. Shannon grimaced and looked away; Scott's 
eyes were wandering as a trio of women walked past, wearing bikini tops 
and Daisy Dukes. There was nothing she could do about that, of course, 
since they were only friends.

"All set," Sierra Maethers stated, addressing both her patients. "But 
somehow I get the feeling I'll be seeing you two again."

"Oh, did you know that Freya set up a kissing both?" Valencia beamed. 
"Kasumi and I both stood in line. She's a very good kisser."

"T-M-I," Shannon murmured.

"Yes," Dr. Maethers drawled, "I may have to give her something for mono 
later. My daughter's not hogging her, I hope."

"We didn't see her in the line," Valencia confessed. The four of them 
left the tent, Shannon limping a little, and prepared to part ways. But 
first, Kasumi had some news to pass along.

"Hey, before you go, there's something I need to tell you. It's about 
one of our games."

"Not now, Kaz," Shannon groaned. "I ain't in the mood to be depressed by 
homos or tweaked up about spoahts. I just wanna have some fun for god's 
sake. You two go on and make out or whatevah, and tell me tomorrah."

"Okay, but it's important," she said. Shannon grumbled and crossed her 
arms.

"I'm gonna regret this, but...sheesh, if you gotta say something, then 
go ahead."

"Well, it's just a rumor for right now. Fausta's had her ears open and 
she's picked up something a little disturbing. She told me it's possible 
we'll have to go up against St. Thekla Private Women's College." That 
stopped Shannon Threal cold where she stood; her arms dropped and her 
eyes bulged. Scott rubbed his forehead and whistled; Kasumi nodded her 
head, looking a little pale. It seemed Valencia was the only one that 
didn't know what this meant.

"Umm...are they any good?" Shannon winced and tried to recover herself- 
but of all the opponents they had to face...

"Statistically, their offense is below average. I think they only had 
four goals or so during their last season, not counting penalty shots. 
They're also not very fast: I'm betting Arina or Alice would be a match 
for them. But the thing is, their defense is...well, I don't mean to 
exaggerate, but it's pretty much perfect."

"What do you mean?" she smirked uneasily.

"I mean, their defense is perfect," she repeated in a lower voice. 
Threal growled and started walking to cool off her steam. "Damn it, I 
knew I was gonna regret askin' you! Now I'll be in a bad mood for the 
resta the month!"

"Why? Their defense can't really be perfect, can it?"

"St. Thekla's used to be a school like Laudendale: perfect for beginnah 
teams to practice against," Scott answered. "They weren't awful, but 
their trophy case was only good for collectin' dust, if ya know what I 
mean. These days, they're considered one of the nation's best."

"Seriously? Like, Lovelace and Anolis good, or..."

"No, bettah," he stated darkly. Valencia paled and Kasumi nodded, 
knowing just what she was going through.

"They have a goalie named Shannon Wilson. People have been calling her 
'the wall': nothing gets past her. She can catch the hardest shots like 
they were nothing. Wilson's so good, she practices blindfolded. It's 
like she has a sixth sense."

"Seriously?!" Valencia squealed. Shannon moaned out loud.

"Aww, damn it! Now you really got me in a bad mood! Damn it! Come on, 
Scott, let's leave these two alone! Go fucking swap spit for all I care, 
and don't come neah me for the resta the week! You're on ya own for 
church, Kaz!"

"What?! Why? What'd I do?"

"You pissed me off!" she screamed, and stormed off to the pie-throwing 
booth to burn off some aggression. Even though Mr. Warren would receive 
the brunt of her wrath, Kasumi still felt hurt, and Valencia was still a 
little confused. Scott let out an irritated sigh and smiled 
apologetically.

"She gets like that sometimes befoah a really tough game. Shan doesn't 
like it when her opponent's too tough. Ah...it's safe to say that you 
gals probably won't win that game."

"Well, we can't lose too many, or we'll be out of the nationals," Kasumi 
grumbled. "Of course, if we could beat St. Thekla's, there wouldn't be 
any problems, but...ach, it sounds impossible. I mean, I remember 
hearing about Wilson back home. I remember praying that I'd never come 
across her on the field. She could beat professionals. At least you 
don't have to worry," she said to her girlfriend, smiling sadly. 
"They'll never score with you and Lauren protecting us. The only time 
St. Thekla's gets any points on the board is with penalty kicks. Thank 
goodness they have that weakness. Hey, tell Shannon I'm sorry for 
upsetting her. I'm a little shaken myself, and I just had to get it off 
my chest."

"Naw, don't worry about it. She's always pissed about something. She's 
just a spoiled little princess who likes playing rough, is all. I'll see 
you gals latah." He smiled and walked off; Valencia shivered and trailed 
her finger down Kasumi's bare arm, to her palm.

"Speaking of getting something off your chest..."

 

- Terra Tu, Hair/eye color: reddish-black, brown and grey; left back-

 

In spite of Freya's sexuality, or maybe because of it, the line to the 
kissing booth had gotten so long that Shiki and Maria had to step in and 
create booths of their own. They would, of course, do just about 
anything for their friend, including kissing perfect strangers for 
money, men and women alike- but Freya was enjoying it a little too much, 
which made her companions jealous. Among those in line were Mary, Jerry, 
Jill, and Alice, who was naturally conspicuous. Rain had abandoned her 
date to play the whack-a-mole game, and since she felt left out, she 
decided to visit all three lines and get kisses from the beautiful 
women. Felicity and Amy stood in line behind her, a newly-christened 
couple still a little jittery to be seen in public. They weren't even 
comfortable holding hands yet.

"You too, huh?" Velur said to the taller woman, smiling thinly. The line 
moved again, feet shuffling in unison. "Boy, if my father were here, the 
things he'd say! And not just to me: he'd think Freya was a slut for 
what she was doing."

"It's for a good cause," Alice shrugged.

"I know. People need to lighten up. It's not like this is the red-light 
district."

"The m-more supp-port we give th-them, the more m-m-money they'll have 
f-for the Ch-chairman," Amy rationalized. Through her jilted words 
sparked signs of a prudent mind. "If M-m-mr. Fitzgerald raises en-nough 
money, he'll have en-nough to b-buy that music hall he w-w-w-was 
fighting for earlier. Th-that should p-probably shut him up and g-g-get 
him off our b-backs."

"Maybe," Alice chuckled, holding her mouth so she wouldn't burst. "But 
knowing him, he'll just find another excuse to harass us. That guy's a 
total dick."

"He reminds me of my father," Felicity added, crossing her arms. The 
line moved again and the trio pulled out their purses: they were next in 
line. "Well, that's sort of unfair. My father's never satisfied with 
anything. God Himself couldn't please him. Mr. Fitzgerald may be a tool, 
but at least it seems he's working for the school."

"And even if he's not, us rich girls owe it to the school to stand in 
line and be smooched," Alice added with a smirk. Amy snickered, even 
though she couldn't be counted among them. She only wished she had 
something to invest. The line moved one more time and each of them took 
a different booth.

"Wow, you're taller up close," Maria said in awe. Alice crossed her arms 
proudly.

"You should only be giving me one kind of lip today." She bent down and 
Maria stood up so their mouths could touch: a dollar well spent.

"You're all so sweet for doing this," Freya gushed. "I wish more people 
from the team could get involved."

"Why, ya wanna make out with alla them?" Shannon bleated as she passed 
by. Suddenly, she stumbled onto something, loosening her shoe. Several 
guys in line saw it and grabbed it before she could bend down to 
retrieve it. Scott shouted at them in warning, but it was too late: 
Shannon "the cannon" had been let loose.

"It's karma at work, I think," Shiki stated. She watched Freya kiss 
Felicity impatiently, and clenched her hands when she saw her lady's 
tongue entering where it normally dared not.

"That was good," Freya blushed. "Was that your first time kissing a 
girl?"

"Nope," Felicity laughed. Amy smiled solemnly, then turned to face 
Shiki. This arrangement had been deliberately set up so she could avoid 
any questionable confrontation with Freya. Shiki merely closed her eyes 
and accepted her role.

"Euros, yen, dollars...it's all the same to me. If you please, 
Nguyen-san." Her lips were soft and moist, just like a wealthy woman's, 
certainly not the rough, chapped strips of skin on Amy's mouth. Their 
tongues entwined and Shiki let out a breath of longing as they parted, 
quickly turning red. "Yes, well," she stammered, "I suppose the 
occasional indulgence can be forgiven."

"I think she liked it!" Maria laughed. Meanwhile, Shannon was nearing 
the end of her patience, and no closer to catching the thieves. She had 
to stop and remove her other shoe and socks so as not to lose her 
balance or get anything dirty, and winced whenever she passed over a 
rock or a dropped toy. The soles of her feet were amazingly tough and 
calloused well; they were nigh impervious. Even so, a trail of blood 
followed her as she pursued those demonic boys, until at last she lost 
them and sat down in a huff. Scott didn't catch up to her for some time.

"Sorry, they got away."

"Just faget about it," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Ya got any 
band-aids? I think I ran ovah somethin' shahp."

"Ain't you the delicate one," he quipped flatly, reaching into his hip 
pack. Scott never left the house without some means of healing his 
friend; that lesson came from years of following a very rough girl 
around. Shannon cringed as he washed, sterilized, and wrapped her 
wounds, and encouraged her to put her socks on and relax.

"Why don't'cha go ovah and dunk Mistah Warren a coupla times? I'll see 
if I can't get security to help us."

"Thanks, yer a doll." He patted her on the shoulder and left her to 
fritter away what was left of her spending money. Nearly the entire 
school faculty had been degraded in some manner or another- dressing up, 
getting covered with pies or dunked in cold water, running the rides, 
cleaning the campus- but only Arthur Warren could make an art form out 
of it. Even his wife and children stopped by to throw him in the drink a 
couple of times. Now, though, with Shannon Threal stepping up, he could 
at last sigh with relief.

"Oh, it's about time I get a bad throw! Whew. Lauren finally gave up and 
let everyone else have a chance, but then those two Vietnamese kids came 
by for round two. Ugh. I'll probably catch pneumonia at this rate. Oh 
well, at least old man Fitzgerald can stop his bellyaching for awhile. 
Batter up!"

Shannon's first throw didn't even hit the target. "Suh-WING and a miss!"

"Shaddup! I still get two more!"

"Heh, you'd never be able to hit me even with a hundred! WHOA, strike 
two! Aaaaaaaairrrr ball! Aaaaaaaairrrr ball!"

"I hope you like drownin'!" Thump- not even close. Warren made a face 
and Shannon gave up her last dollar. Strike one- strike two- strike 
three. She flipped Warren the bird and stormed off.

"Wait a sec, Shan!" Scott called out to her, bruised and bloody, 
cradling her missing shoe with a toothy grin. He looked at Warren, paid 
for a round, and sank him to the bottom of the barrel with an enormous 
splash. The crowd whistled and cheered as he walked over and clapped her 
on the shoulder.

"Ya prince has arrived!"

"My hero," she beamed. They walked off to the exit, too weary to stay 
any longer, and as they got to the parking lot, Scott knelt down and 
took his friend's foot in hand.

"I believe milady left this at the ball." He slipped her bloodied foot 
into the shoe seamlessly, causing her to blush. Then he stood up, 
grinning, and playfully kissed her on the nose.

One good smack deserved another.

"I wondah what they're doin' next yeah," she said as he opened her car 
door.

"Prob'ly some dorky medieval thing. Ten to one says they get the same 
attractions."

"Yeah, no originality at all. Okay, doahmouse, drive Cindarellah home."

"I knew I should've taken my chances with the wicked stepsistah."

Onwards to Part 38


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