Chapter 4

If someone were to ask you (and many did) what exactly happened that night between you and Crybaby, all would get an uncommitted response about knee-jerk reactions and too much booze. They would hear the pride in your voice as you retold the events leading up to the punch, but none would know that under all the swagger lay guilt. Yes, you actually felt bad for punching a man who kissed you without any... okay, much... encouragement. But, damn, was it one hell of a kiss.

The memory of his lips on yours were enough to keep you up at night and have you practically drooling in class. Every time you caught him watching you, the urge to blush or play coy appeared and you were down-right confused. To make matters worse, and twice as complicated, you never found a moments peace from him. Wanda, apparently trying to play matchmaker, always made one excuse or another to leave the two of you alone together and Hatchet and Pepper seemed to be going along with her game.

On one particularly hot Saturday, you manage to get away from the group by hiding out on a floating dock in the middle of Turkey Point's lake. The sun is warm against your skin, drying the droplets of water left on your body from swimming out, and you are sincerely enjoying the peace and quiet. Some screams and cat calls from shore catch your attention and you watch with a small smile as two women roll around on the ground. Apparently some sort of fight has broken out and there's no way you're missing out on it.

You swim back as quickly as possible, moving to stand next to Ramona and staring in fascination as the two girls duke it out.

"So who are the contenders?" you ask.

"Allison and Lenora," Ramona answers.

"You're kidding me. What are they doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? Fighting over Crybaby."

The answer was obvious, especially from all the stories surrounding those two.

"Good girls want him back but bad girls want him worse, huh?"

"So do you want to break it up, or should I?"

"I'll do it," you answer with a sigh.

You grab both women by their hair, dragging them apart and keeping them as separated as you can manage. They continue to struggle against your hold, surprising you with the un-square like language flying out of their painted mouths. You tighten your grip on them, yanking them to their feet and pulling their heads back until their necks are almost bent in half.

"Walk forward and play nice, or I tug 'till you both end up bald. Your choice," you snarl, your eyes saying just how much you prefer the second option.

Allison, trying to be brave, takes a swing in your direction and you're quick to retaliate by kicking her legs out from under her before yanking her back up.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Lenora screams, still struggling.

"The new queen," you lie. "Got a problem with that, tramp?"

Both sets of eyes go wide at the untruth that slid so easily off your tongue, but you don't give either of them the chance to reply as you begin dragging them forward. The three of you walk up the hill, the crowd following close behind, until you reach the Turkey Point sign. Once you reach the end of the road, you throw both of them down into the dirt and listen to the cheers behind you.

"Trash," you sneer before feeling an arm come to rest around your shoulders.

Crybaby smiles down upon the two girls, obviously enjoying their suffering, and then gives you a proud look before steering you away.

"New queen, huh?" he asks.

"Don't look so damn pleased, Walker."

As the everyone heads back down to the dance area, Lenora and Allison begin brushing the dirt off their skirts while staring after you with murder in their eyes.

Why should a fellow want a girl like her?

A frail fluffy beauty.

Why can't a girl ever once prefer a solid girl like me?

Allison sings angrily, glancing over at Lenora as she too begins to croon.

She's a frothy little bubble with a flimsy kind of charm and with very little trouble

I could break her arm.

Oh, oh why would a fellow want a girl like her?

So obviously unusual?

Why can't a fellow ever once prefer a usual girl like me?

Her cheeks are a pretty shade of pink, but not any pinker than roses.

Her skin may be delicate and soft, but not any softer than a doe's is.

Her neck is no whiter than a swan's.

She's only as dainty as a daisy.

She's only as graceful as a bird.

So why is the fellow going crazy?

Oh, why would a fellow want a girl like her, a girl who's merely lovely?

Why can't a fellow ever once prefer a girl who's merely me?

She's a frothy little bubble with a frilly sort of air

And with very little trouble I could pull out all her hair!

Oh, why would a fellow ever want a girl like her, a girl who's merely lovely?

Why can't a fellow ever once prefer a girl who's merely me?

What's the matter with the man?

What's the matter with the man?

What's the matter with the man?

"We should do something about this," Lenora says.

"Break them apart?" Allison asks.

They are both silent a moment before meeting gazes.

"Perfect," they both whisper.

A/N: Just so you don't get to confused, this is who sings what - Lenora Allison Both

This story is kinda on Hiatus. I'll try to write as much as possible, as soon as possible, but unfortunatly the real world has me running around like a chicken with my head cut off. No matter how long it takes, I PROMISE I will keep this story going.