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The only good guys are the geeks. mad Like the guy who went to Eragon with me and I fell asleep with my head in his lap. He came over and played the Wii yesterday.

But don't tell my dad about the falling asleep thing heart

Kirby wanna picture? heart

A little something about Debate


Sorry it's so late, and incomplete. Um, I luff you guys sweatdrop


Ahhhhh, Friday. One last day of hell and all my troubles were over for a blessed two days. I buried myself under the covers and savored the thought. And not only that, but I didn’t even have school today. Just a couple of hours on a bus with Whit and Nikki and Mattie and Sami…I’d take it from there. It was my first debate tournament; had to be fun, right?

And to think, I hadn’t even started on my Negative case, and had yet to write and memorize intros for both my poem and short story. Lovely.

There was one other thing marring my happiness…we can all guess, si?

Evan. Duh.

For a moment I wondered who HE would hang out with during the tournament…but then I decided not to care. No thinking about him. In fact, no thinking at all. Friday morning, Kirby darling. Nothing but five minutes of extra sleep.

And anyway, it couldn’t hurt. My alarm had gone off at 6:30. I sighed, kicking the snooze button. Five more minutes, just five more…

When I woke up again, it was 7:10, well past my usual sleeping-in time. I hopped out of bed and threw on my tomboy best, thankful that at least, I wouldn’t need a uniform.

Kissed the parents goodbye, leapt into the car, and zoomed to school with my sister, double-checking everything in my duffel bag. I had a couple of good books in there, my notebook, a one-inch stack of Baylor briefs, my cases, poem, and story, and a legal pad, plus some clothes in a separate, smaller bag. Oh yeah, and food. Can’t forget the Hershey bar, orange Gatorade, and Chex mix, of course.

Mrs. D, our beloved Debate overlord, counted us twice while we drifted around and complained about the cold, herding us into the charter bus at long last. The six or so seniors took the back seats, and the freshman were left with three or four rows to squeeze into, me, Whitney, Mattie, Nikki, Sami, Sarah, Austin, Nate, and Evan, who had a row to himself, though quite obviously not by choice. But I ignored him, of course.

“Morning, Whit,” I said cheerfully, “You write your Neg case?”

“Hey, chickadee. What, you need it? Where’s yours?”

“Um….I haven’t written it yet?”

“Yeaaah…good point. Here, take it.”

She tossed me her Neg case, and some Cross-Examination questions, and I sat beside her and got to work on my own case as Mrs. D sat down and signaled the bus driver to get rollin’.

Woo! Forward motion! Where’s the Reliant K CD when you need it? I sang it under my breath anyway, deciding that I needed a soundtrack for the million songs I hummed under my breath every day.

“I struggle with forward motion,
I struggle with forward motion,
We all struggle with forward motion…”

Whitney gave me an odd glance, looking up from her poem—“The Raven,” of course. I ignored her.

“’Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds…

Bring your iPod, Whit?”

“Um, no…”

“Every time I turn around I’ve got to turn myself around again…”

“Wish I did, though.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. I’ll stop now.”

“Okay, tha-a-anks.”

“Chex Mix, anyone?”

“Nah, diet,” Whitney refused. Mattie and Sarah pilfered handfuls, and I munched on a corn square or two.

“Come on, Whit…gotta love the cheese flavor…” I tempted.

“Girl, you’re Satan.”

“Yeah, I know. Here, guys,” I added to Mattie and Nikki, tossing them the bag. “Save me some.”

As a dentist’s daughter (my mom), I abhorred snack food stuck in my teeth. Better to rot them out with chocolate…but I was saving that for the stressful part later.

“Hold your head high, heavy heart…” I muttered. “Take a chance and make it big ‘cause it’s the last you’ll ever get…”

Whitney cocked an eyebrow. I grinned.

“If we don’t take it, when will we make it? I make plans to—”

“Shut up!” several people shouted in unison.

“Hmph.” I obliged, giving them by best evil glare and settling back down to write my case.

I firmly negate the resolution resolved, that a victim‘s use of deadly force as a response to repeated domestic abuse is just, on the grounds that it is not just at all…

“Quick, Whitney! What comes next?”

“Some rambling crap about sanctity of life and protecting the life of the abuser.”

I nodded, scribbling something down, crossing it out, scribbling again…And then, for some reason, I chose that moment to glance at Evan. His iPod was in his hand, both ear buds on, and he was staring out of the window, seeming a lot lonelier than he had ever been before. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Swallow your pride, Kirbette. C’mon, just one “I’m sorry” to make him feel better, aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?

Well, I didn’t do anything to HIM. It was his fault, petulant, whiny self objected.

Look, he’s pretty much your best friend, isn’t he? Don’t let it end over some stupid argument!

Didn’t seem very stupid to him. I have girl best friends, besides. Who needs men anyway?

Agreed, but c’mon…it’s Evan…

Shut up, logical self.

It obeyed. But still, some things just can’t die down.

“Hey.” Whitney prodded me, following my glance. “What’s Evan doing over there all alone?”

“I don’t know,” I said innocently, shrugging the question off.

“Well, why aren’t you over there with dream boy, girl?”

“For one thing, because I’m over here.” I scowled. “And stop calling him dream boy.”

“Oh come on, chica, the guy looks lonely…”

“I’m writing my case, what do you want me to do?”

“Write it over THERE.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored her protests, scrawling away for perhaps ten minutes before that damn ADD kicked in and I was forced to join in the conversation of those who were NOT procrastinating. Unlike me.

“So where is this again?”

“Clear Lake.”

“And where is THAT again?”

“Thataway,” Whitney offered, pointing.

“And…debate tournaments are fun and NOT obscenely painful, right?”

“Tons of fun, girl. You won’t regret it.”

“Will I NEED the giant bar of chocolate?”

“YES.”

“Oh gods.”

“Well, if you inhale mounds of caffeine, you’ll be all right, Kirbette.”

“But…where’m I gonna get that much SUGAR?”

“Well, you’ll just have to—”

“Uh…excuse me…Whitney?”

We blinked in confusion, glancing up to see Evan, who kept his eyes trained to some point right above Whitney’s head.

“Hey, Evan,” she said cheerfully, blissfully unaware of our fight. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind if I sit there for a minute?” he asked, and I could tell he was trying to make his voice as loud as possible over the senior’s loud conversations.

“Sure,” she agreed, despite my warning glance at her, which apparently, she drastically misinterpreted. She slid out of her seat, and Evan took it while she slid in between Mattie and Nikki.

He didn’t even look at me, just sat for a moment, staring straight ahead. I waited, eyebrows raised. He took his time thinking about what to say, I guessed; growing a little impatient, I pulled out my notebook and started writing, shrugging off his existence. So much for swallowing my pride.

“I’m really sorry,” he said at long last.

“For what?” I inquired, not as a challenge, but just to be nice and pretend I had short-term memory loss. Actually, in retrospect, it wasn’t very nice at all.

“Well…I wasn’t…really mad at you, you know…more at…”

“Karma?”

“Um, sort of. But I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Hey, you.”

“Huh?”

“Shut up.”

He looked at me in pure bewilderment, unsure if I was serious.

“I was being a royal a*****e myself, so no apologizing. ‘Cause if you have to, so do I.”

“No you—”

“It’s okay, I get it. Stress, right?”

“Um…yeah…”

“And I was being selfish from extreme boredom, so I’m sorry, too. Okay, everything’s fine.”

“But—”

“You worry too much.” I grinned; he smiled in return, stopping with the whole guilty thing. I hate it when people do that.

“You, um…need help with your cases?” he asked, glancing at the notebook in my lap.

“Ye-es,” I whined, and he smiled.

“What d’you need help with?”

“I’d be much obliged if you’d write the Neg case for me.”

“Um…no.”

“Just the intro, please?”

He relented at my innocent face. “Ah…okay. Just the intro.”

“Thanks!” I said cheerfully. He nodded and started writing, glancing at the Baylor briefs from time to time.

“So, is Tara doing better?” I asked, a little more seriously.

“Um…yeah, a little…she made me go to this, anyway, so I guess she doesn’t need me…”

“Well, of course she does. But she knows you need to get out more.”

“Oh come on, since when?”

“Since you dropped from the sky four months ago, stupid. And by the way, you need to gain some charisma.”

He snorted. “No, I think I’m okay…”

“Only in your mind, dude.”

“Having fun?” Whitney interrupted, resting her elbows on our headrest. Evan started and got up at once, stepping out of the way so she could get back to her seat. She grinned, shaking her head.

“You can sit there, I’m fine right here. ¿Cómo está?”

He remained standing, giving her an odd look. I rolled my eyes. “He speaks Latin, Whitney. Or, something.”

“French.”

“Yeah, that. She was inquiring about your health, stupid, sit.”

“You’re such a bully, Kirby.”

“You know it, Whit. See, Evan, this is what I mean,” I added to him as he took his seat again. “Who’s afraid of Whitney?”

Whitney frowned. “Aw, that hurts, chickadee.”

“Well, no offense, girl, but you’re four feet tall.”

“Four foot ten and a half!” she said angrily, pouting. “And you aren’t that all either, Kirbette.”

“Well, I’m a good five inches over you, Miss Hooker Heels.”

“Hey, no mocking the hooker heels.”

Evan coughed slightly, gaining our attention at once. “Hooker heels?”

Whitney glared at me. “Way to go, Kirbette. YOU explain.”

“’Kay.” I snatched Whitney’s bag, extracting the four-inch stiletto pumps from the mess within. “THESE are hooker heels.”

“Um…if you say so.”

“I like him already,” Whitney grinned. Evan averted his eyes shyly.

“Hey,” I said suddenly, nudging him. “You bring your iPod?”

“Kirby, you’re obsessed,” Whitney chimed in.

“Yeah.” Evan drew it from his pocket, unraveling the headphones, and handed me one. I took the liberty of pilfering the iPod itself, scrolling around for a song.

“You’re not going to put Wonderwall on repeat again, are you?” he asked warily.

“Nah, I have something more energetic in mind.”

“Oh crap.”

Fort Minor “Remember the Name” floated out of the tiny speakers.

“I didn’t know you had this song.”

“I didn’t know you liked it.”

Whitney grinned behind us. “’Mazing.”

“This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain…”

This is about where I joined in.

“And 100% reason to remember the name.”

“Can I change it now?”

“No.”

“So, Evan,” Whitney interrupted, “where’re you from?”

Uh-oh, I muttered to myself. Evan had a strange, distant look on his face as he replied, “Keatonville.”

“Where’s that?”

He shrugged.

“How can you not know?”

He didn’t reply. Gods, this was turning out rather like MY first conversation with him…

“Why’d you come here?”

“It’s a good school.”

“Arguably…where d’you live?”

“My street, chica,” I interjected, shooting her a warning glance. She caught it and changed tack at once.

“So, you still single, or what?”

Crap.

Evan did not reply, frowning. I cleared my throat loudly.

“Excuse us for a moment,” I said, turning the volume up on the iPod and handing him the other earphone, which he inserted obediently into his available ear. I leaned as far away from him as I could, beckoning Whitney to come closer.

“Hey, Whitney…”

I hit her upside the head.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Cut the small talk, girl. Please.”

“Um, fine…”

“No background info, okay? This is one of those mind your own business things.”

“I was just being friendly, Kirby, there’s—”

“Come on, Whit…seriously.”

“Yeah…okay….”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Do tell.”

“MINE.”

“Your what?”

I shook my head, half-jokingly, half…not. “No flirting.”

“Aw, you know I don’t flirt, girl.”

“Yeah right. Anyway,” I said loudly, stealing my earphone back, “how’s that intro going, Evan?”

“You tyrant.”

“I know, don’t you love me for it? Go on, back to work, slave.”

“You really are so demanding, Kirbette.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not! Evan, am I demanding?”

“Um…don’t hurt me, but…yeah…”

“Oh, man…”

heeheeehee.

Well, it's not finised. But it will be. Soon. Maybe.

Can't wait till voxxxie sees this sweatdrop

Um.....eh heh....

Note to self: never BE there when Voxxx reads your comments/works.

sweatdrop

3nodding

Yep. That's about the half of it. *stranglethwappillowtoss*

Actually, that would be your karma, Kirby. You wrote this before. twisted

Bwahaha, now I don't feek guilty anymore. heart

Nah. heart It's all good.