So.

Well. My first ever… Cylan? Dam? DylanCam? Whichever you prefer. And yes, Casa got me into writing this. Since I’m always up for a challenge, I thought this would be a good time to get me out of my new-school-year blues… Write a oneshot! Hah.

The Secret Art of Burping

The guests of Skye Hamilton’s costume party were treated to a rather unusual sight that night: Adam-slash-Cam Fisher was sitting on his lonesome under the massive willow tree.

Now, perhaps this scene isn’t very strange, but oh, it was for those who knew Cam Fisher. Cam Fisher was never left alone. Cam Fisher was not meant to be left alone. It just wasn’t in his genes. Nevertheless, it still couldn’t explain why the dark-haired boy was sitting cross-legged, well-shielded by the glaring overhead lights, a pensive look upon his face.

Girls with blonde wigs and iridescent eye shadow stopped occasionally to run their contacts over his delish costume, and considered… keeping him company. But they immediately dismissed the idea, as they were in fear of seeming…

…Boring.

Don’t get me wrong. Cam Fisher was cute and all, with his Tarzan or George of the Jungle or whatever-he’s-supposed-to-be outfit, but what with the look of total and utter seriousness in his blue-and-green eyes… Well, go figure. Nobody wants to be seen with a downer, right?

So that was why onlookers – yes, they were ogling him, and not very discreetly, at that – were surprised when an equally dejected-looking Demi-Moore-slash-Dylan plopped down next to Adam-Cam-Fisher, clutching her tote close to her side.

They sat in silence for a while, before Dylan decided to break it by doing what she did best: burp. But to her chagrin, Cam not only managed to not look disgusted, he ignored her altogether! She tried a different approach. “That was mean, what you did to Claire.”

Cam’s head shot up. That seemed to penetrate the thick skull of his. He contemplated his answer, before mumbling a “She deserved it,” in her general direction.

Dylan sighed and slid her ray band over her eyes. “I know, but you didn’t have to be so… harsh.”

“Again, she deserved it.” Cam grabbed some fig leaves from his pockets and scattered them over the cured, freshly mowed grass, for the sake of something better to do. “So what did Claire do to make you come here to talk to me?”

“Why ever would you think that?” Dylan shook her head, black artificial hair swinging in the cool breeze. “Nuh-thing.”

“Fine. Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way.” Claire crossed her arms over her chest and rested a scrutinizing gaze on Massie and Dylan.

“Um.” Dylan half-raised her hand, as though Mr. Myner had asked her a question she could actually answer. “Why are we having this little tête-à-tête again?”

“Beh-cause she wants to know why Cam is so pissed at her when in fact she could just walk three hundred yards and go talk to him.” Massie scoffed, rolling her eyes behind her Chloe sunglasses.

“Oh. And you want one of us to go ask him why?”

“Yes,” Claire said, as though it was the most obvious thing on Earth.

Dylan tapped a manicured finger against her lips. “And by ‘settle’ you mean…?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“You’re not serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Bu-but, Claire. What if I… die?”

“It’s just… a bowl… of green jellybeans.”

“But I’m allergic to jellybeans!”

“Allergic to… jellybeans?”

“Yes, Claire! I nearly died eating its horrible greenness!”

“These are jellybeans. You made me eat Marmite. Which is a million times as disgusting.”

“Yes, but… these jellybeans are green! And I—”

“I bet Plovert and Kemp are going to be really pleased that a girl who can fart and burp like there’s no tomorrow is afraid of a bowl of jellybeans.”

“Fine. Give me those.”

“See? Not that hard, huh? And there she goes… one… two… three… Ooh! Four at once, and—”

“Oh God. I think I’m going to be si—I—Ehmagawd—you—”

“You’re turning red! Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to jellybeans?”

“I DID. FUCKING. TELL YOU!”

“There she blows!”

“Shut up, Mass, I—DYLAN!”

“Nope, I came here on my own, and nobody forced me to because I didn’t accidentally spew half-digested jellybeans on anyone.” Dylan nodded, her eyes emaciating seriousness.

“O…kay.”

“Yeah.” Dylan leaned back against the trunk of the tree, placing her bag at her side. “Being ditched sucks. Just thought you should know of Claire’s feelings.”

“And you would know… how?”

“I was ditched, okay?” She took off her ray bands and tossed them into her bag, disgust etched on her face. “’Cause I acted like a dude. Happy?”

Cam fought the urge to lift the corners of his mouth. “Well, I guess Plovert and Kemp got tired of all your…” His voice trailed off as he swallowed a lungful of air and tried to produce a belch. It was a rather weak attempt, as proven by Dylan, who threw her head back in laughter.

“You suck at that, you know. And you’re a guy. Aren’t guys supposed to have these genetically transplanted into their minds or something?”

“Like I would want to know The Secret Art of Burping.” Cam rolled his eyes.

“Dude. It’s all the rage, trust me,” Dylan chuckled at herself at her lame joke, and Cam shook his head.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Plovert.” Cam emptied his pockets and more leaves tumbled out, along with a rubber snake, which he twisted in his hands and threw as far as possible.

“And you’ve been spending way too much time with Claire. You’re turning into such a downer.” Dylan lowered her emerald eyes. “What happened to the old Cam?”

“What?” Cam turned to Dylan, a confused look in his eyes. Her eyes widened; she didn’t mean for him to hear the last part.

“Nothing.” Dylan shook her head so hard, her wig fell off.

“So you missed the old me?” Cam leaned back, smirking.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were going to.”

“I was not,” Dylan insisted, her mouth working its way into a pout.

“Well, for the record, I was going to say I missed the old Dylan.” Cam shrugged carelessly, watching her face intently for any reaction.

When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “Just… don’t let Massie or Claire, or the other girls push you around so much. It’s just not… you.”

“And how would you know?” Dylan’s eyes blazed. “You hardly know me. We don’t even talk when we see each other. Not even a single ‘hi’.”

“I’m just saying that I don’t like you like that!” Cam frowned. “Who are you, Dylan Marvil?”

“Why don’t you ask Massie that?” she said with bitterness in her voice. At last, she looked up at him. “Who do you want me to be?”

“You.” He smiled, and she smiled back. And silence engulfed them once again. Neither knew what to say, for they weren’t even sure of what had just happened in the last three minutes. They looked away from each other; at the sky, at the glittering pool in the distance, at the Christina Aguilera wannabes watching in confusion; anywhere but at him, and anywhere but at her.

“Ginger ale,” Dylan said finally.

“Huh?”

“Ginger ale. The Secret Art of Burping.” Dylan pulled two bottles of the fizzy drink out of her tote, smiling softly. And Cam found himself grinning back.

And so, the guests of Skye Hamilton’s costume party were treated to an even more unusual sight that night: Adam-slash-Cam-Fisher, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Demi-slash-Dylan-Marvil. Burping.

Haha. Hahahahahahaha.

I don’t think.

Yay. I’m glad I managed to finish this. I’m okay with how it turned out… What about you?

Anyway.

I don’t write this crap for nothing. Review, if you feel like it, but please leave more than “ OMG!” and all that shit in your reviews. It’s a two way street: you fuck with me, I fuck with you.

Cheers,
DC