note: ah, so another new fic by me. so as far as ships go, I'm going to attempt to use the whole like "what the hell is going here?" tactic, and expect some different ships going on (all het, so worry not, those who do not like slash :) ).

and you will probably notice I'm using the term "Fantasmic Four" again for the girls, but this story is in no way related to The Life and Times of the Fantasmic Four.

the title is from the title of the Beulah song "Popular Mechanics for Lovers", which is a cutely awesome song (and kinda somewhat goes with one of the triangles in the fic), so enjoy:D

popular mechanics for lovers
by, the ultimateSora

chapter one
in which the gang makes phoebe question her sexuality

The Fantasmic Four...or better known to everyone else, Dorothy Ann "I'm smarter than you and your mother and I have the GPA to prove it" Ewing, Wanda "I have a Napoleon Complex and rage blackouts but I'm still popular" Li, Keesha "You know I'm cool with my vintage hipster style and sarcasm" Franklin, and Phoebe "I'm gangly like a prepubescent boy and I look no older than twelve" Terese...walked in the school from the junior parking lot and gathered around Dorothy Ann's locker, which was nearest to the doors they came in. Wanda was picking at her newly manicured nails and didn't notice like the other three when a note fell from the locker. Phoebe picked it up and handed it to D.A.

"Ooer," Keesha said with a smirk. "Would that be from your lurver boy?"

Dorothy Ann cocked her eyebrow. "Did you just say 'lurver'?"

"Just read the damn note."

D.A. opened the note, and she read it aloud, "Dear Dorothy Ann, my blue eyed angel, you're probably wondering by now who I am. Worry not, you know me, so I can assure you I am not a serial rapist or a stalker or anything to that of a creepy effect--"

"He's a stalker," Wanda cut in.

D.A. went on. "But come April when we have spring formal, be expecting me at your house in a white limo. Always, your secret admirer."

Wanda popped D.A. on the upper arm hard enough to leave a red mark on her sun-kissed skin. "OH! What if it's Carlos? It's gotta be Carlos!"

Dorothy Ann scoffed. "Carlos? Surely you jest. That's like saying Ralphie's stalking Keesha or Arnold's leaving you roses."

Wanda shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "He would if he wasn't so busy getting his ass physically kicked by Tim for Phoebe's affection," she said, matter-of-factly. "But I guess what I cannot understand is why I, Wanda Li, who puberty was so good to with my C-cup breasticles, my perfect skin, and my shiny black hair, don't have two guys fighting over me. You know, as opposed to our lanky lady friend here whose jeans are too short for her chicken legs and who obviously likes girls!"

Phoebe's jaw dropped, and her round cheeks, possibly the only fat on her body, turned bright red. "I do not like girls in a sexual way!"

Keesha shook her head. "Pheebs, we've all notice how you look at D.A."

D.A. nodded. "Yeah, yeah." She turned to Keesha and Wanda. "Ladies, are we sure she isn't sending the letters to me?"

"I'm not gay!" Phoebe said, a little too loudly, as two freshmen happened to walk by and looked at her funny. She grunted. "I'm going to class."

As she stormed off, the three high fived one another. Keesha nodded. "Another job well done."

Wanda laughed. "We've been ganging up on her since the third grade, and it never gets old."

Phoebe, who was still fuming from the girls, was so absorbed in her anger that she almost ran into the younger Ramone, Mikey (or "Mike", to his friends outside the Orgasmic Ocho, the nickname Carlos gave the gang in the eighth grade). Mikey was a freshman, and he rivaled Carlos on good looks. Carlos was more handsome than anything, and he still considered the "hotter" brother. Mikey was prettier than Carlos, but he wasn't really considered man-pretty. If he were not a paraplegic, he would have been taller than Carlos and a little lankier. Carlos was stockier, his shoulders broader and arms thicker than Mikey's from wrestling and football. Mikey, though slimmer than his brother, was still toned. He played league wheelchair basketball, and he was a great deal better than Carlos when the brothers played in their driveway. Where Carlos kept his face clean shaven and hair shorter, Mikey liked stubble (as he was one of the few freshman boys who could grow facial hair) and his hair shaggy under his cap.

"Hey, watch it there, Pheebs," he said with a chuckle when she bumped into him.

She felt her stomach flutter. "Oh, hey, Mikey."

He smiled. "I'm actually glad I ran into you. Carlos tells me you're an English whiz. You wouldn't mind tutoring me, do you?"

She hoped her cheeks weren't flushing when she said, "Of course I wouldn't."

He nodded. "My forte is more science and math. I'm horrible at English and social studies."

Phoebe chuckled. "I'm just the opposite."

The two laughed, and further down the hall, both Arnold Perlstein and Tim Reynolds stopped walking when they saw the gangly object of their affection laughing and talking to Mikey. Both started towards Phoebe and Mikey, but they stopped abruptly when they realized they were right next to each other. They eyed one another, their noses high and chests slightly puffed out.

"What are you doing, man?" Tim asked.

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "I could ask you the same thing, man."

Tim looked around, and he shoved Arnold back. He stumbled back into a group of freshman girls, who giggled when they realized the junior boy just fell into their gaggle. Arnold paid no attention to them as he got back on his feet, and he ran after Tim, who was already walking fast towards Phoebe. He caught up to Tim, and the two boys smacked at one another as they hurried towards her.

Phoebe inwardly groaned when she saw them. "What do you guys want now?" she asked, feeling her cheeks flush.

"How are you?" Arnold asked, slightly panting.

"I notice you're wearing your favorite red shirt," Tim said, smiling. "Really brings out your freckles." Arnold shot him a look, but he ignored him. He went over to Phoebe, slid his arm around her shoulders, and he escorted her away. "What did you get on our history quiz?"

The two walked off, leaving Mikey and Arnold. Mikey patted Arnold's arm, and as he wheeled away, he said, "Better luck next time, man."

Janet Perlstein incessantly kicked the underside of Ralphie Tennelli's seat. She did it to get a rise out of him, like most things she did to people. She thrived on annoying people. Ralphie knew that, too, and he tried to ignore her. He especially did not want to turn around and look at her because he hated the fact that he did find her hot. Both of the Perlstein cousins had been so nerdy as kids, but now, they were both disgustingly (in Ralphie's opinion) pretty. Janet's hair was longer, still curly, and she ditched the glasses (unlike Arnold, who wore square, wire-framed ones). She was also on the drill team, her legs long and perfect for dancing. She knew Ralphie would stare at them when he thought she wasn't looking.

"You know you want me, Ralphie," she whispered behind him.

He ignored her, and she flicked his ear. He whipped around and said through gritted teeth. "Stop."

"You know it's true. And how perfect would we be? I'm on the drill team; you're the football player."

He nodded. "Sounds just about as perfect as a Hillary Duff movie." His tone was dripping with sarcasm. "And besides, you're Arnold's relative. That's just a little weird."

She scoffed. "Please, it's not like I need his permission if I want to date his friends."

"Who said I'd date you? You're a heinous bitch. You make Wanda seem like Phoebe."

Janet narrowed her eyes. "Never say that name in my presence." It was well known to everyone that Janet loathed Phoebe for reasons unknown. It was also speculated that not even Janet knew. "And why my cousin is after that lanky-limbed twelve year old, I'll never know."

Ralphie grunted. "You see? Right there. You insult my friends, and I'm supposed to like you?"

She winked. "You don't have to like me, just...lust me."

"That doesn't make any sense."

She pouted. "Just one date. That's all I ask."

Ralphie knew he'd regret it right when the word left his mouth. "Fine."

Wanda and Keesha always found amusement in the Ewing household. Dorothy Ann was number four out of five girls (and one boy), she and the youngest girl, Ellen (or Ellie), being the closest in age (Bobby was the youngest, a surprise to D.A.'s parents when he was born four years ago). Ellie was the only girl in the family not to have two names, but sometimes their dad, John, called her "Miss Ellie". The three oldest Ewing girls were Sarah Jane, Mary Ruth, and Ashleigh May, and like Dorothy Ann and Ellie, they were blonde and blue eyed. Sue Ellen, their mother, looked just the same. Bobby looked more like their dad with his brown hair and eyes.

"I feel like I'm on Dallas every time I come to this house," Wanda whispered to Keesha.

They went up to Dorothy Ann's room to do homework and hang out since Phoebe was doing cross country training (even though it was spring, the season being over). D.A. sat down at her desk, and Keesha plopped down on the bed. Wanda found their third grade yearbook, and she sat on the floor, leafing through it.

"Hey, you guys remember Professor Dickweed, our principal?" she asked. "Professor Dickweed" was the nickname Wanda gave Mr. Rhule in the fifth grade when he caught her putting cherry bombs in the girls' bathroom toilets. She didn't know what "Dickweed" had meant, but she liked it.

"Oh, Professor Dickweed," Keesha sighed. "With his horrendous lime green suit and stupid chicken obsession."

D.A. nodded. "But if it weren't for him, Arnold and I wouldn't have had Arnold Jr. and there would have been no Fourth of July barbeque the following year."

Wanda got to her feet. "I'm hungry. KFC, anyone?"

Phoebe was done with her laps around the campus, and when she did her cool down jog, she groaned when she saw Arnold and Tim standing by her bag in one of the back courtyards. She trotted up to them and put her hands on her hips when she stopped. Tim held out a towel to her as Arnold held out an ice cold bottle of water. Phoebe took both and made sure she wiped her sweaty face as she took a drink of water.

"There. Are you two happy now?" she asked. She was blushing, but no one would be able to notice as she was flushed from running.

"I saw you took a drink before you wiped your face," Arnold said.

"She wiped her face first, d-bag," Tim argued.

She handed Tim the towel and Arnold the empty bottle. "I'm leaving now. Would you two please stop this and leave me alone?"

She grabbed her bag and headed to the locker room, Arnold and Tim both staring open mouthed at her skinny, freckled legs.

Wanda and Keesha were still at Dorothy Ann's, attempting to do homework, when both their cell phones rang from a text message. It was the same message:

From: (214) 555-3825
03/17/2004 5:47 PM

hey, whore, guess who snagged ralphie? thats rite. me. janet.

Both Keesha and Wanda's heads shot up, and they eyed one another. Dorothy Ann looked up from her English homework. "What is it?"

"Nothing," they both said, still eyeing one another.

Dorothy Ann got up and snatched their phones. She couldn't help but chuckle. "Janet's dating Ralphie?"

"No!" both girls snapped at the blonde.

"Oh, I see what's going on...YOU TWO LOVE RALPHIE!" She started to laugh. "Oh, this is good!"

"I do not!" both girls indignantly shrieked.

D.A. tossed their phones back to them. "Sure you don't."

note: "Professor Dickweed" is from Talladega Nights, and for you Southfork fans, I think you noticed something about D.A.'s family.