Disclaimer: I do not own anything of 10 things I hate about you.

In the Sky with Diamonds

By: Santiva Potter

Summary: "When will I meet your parents?" was never so difficult. Katrick

Chapter 1

This was all really Bianca's fault, Kat was sure. Had her tenacious and irritating sister had not waltzed in after curfew Monday night, none of this would have ever happened.

"Ah ha! She's late!" her father declared from the kitchen as his warning beeper went off.

"Dad, she went to dinner with his parents," Kat droned, lounging on the couches. "It's not like she was whisked off by any Biker Boys."

Mr. Stratford's reproach was interrupted by the opening of the front door as Bianca Stratford slowly retreated in.

"Goodnight Mr. and Mrs. Donner!"

Kat's blond sister was looked exhausted in her dress to impress outfit—her oppressors of course being Joey's parents.

"Bianca!" her father hollered charging into the room.

"Dad relax! Joey's parents just wanted to go and get some ice cream after dinner. No big deal."

"So how was your one month-versary," Kat teased.

"Ugh," Bianca groaned collapsing on the nearest couch. "I still can't believe he invited his parents! He's just so—"

"Dense!" Kat interjected.

Bianca refused to justify Kat with an answer. Mr. Stratford on the other hand still stood over her with a bottle for her.

"Are you serious Dad?" Bianca complained. "It was just ice-cream!"

"Just ice-cream? So I'm supposed to believe that just ice-cream is going on after curfew? Ha ha ha, I don't think so missy!"

"This family is so ridiculous!" Bianca whined as Kat smirked. "Joey's parents don't treat him like some criminal, and I'm sure even Patrick's family isn't this whacked out either, right Kat?"

But in the heat of Bianca's annoyance, Kat was never able to respond and it was probably for the best, after all what was she to say about the parents she had never met?

And that was the question that had effectively bugged her for the following day at school. There was just no easy way to bring up the subject. Walking up to your boyfriend and inquiring about meeting his parents would be awkward, right? Especially if said boyfriend had that entire mysterious, loner persona working for him.

But there was one ray of sunshine in her particular dilemma, Patrick's recklessness had caused him to crash his bike a few weeks ago—thankfully, he was wearing a helmet—so at the moment, he was dependent on Kat to get him from school to work every afternoon. This would bring up a divine opportunity, but she figured that mentioning this in front of the plague of her sister would be a bad idea.


She snapped out of her daze and turned to her left. Patrick Verona, in the flesh, was walking next to her in the parking lot, headed for her car.

"What is your problem? You've been out of it all day."

"It's nothing, I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Obviously," Patrick smirked as they reached the car. Kat made her way to the driver's side and stuck her key in to unlock the car, but froze. Patrick, anticipating her hesitation, was leaning over the hood, with one eye brow cocked in curiosity.

"Kat just spit it out."

"Well it's just that—"


The heinous cry came from her sister, who seemed to be the victim of Chastity's wrath—again.

But instead of ice-cream or honey, this time Bianca was covered head to toe in syrup.

Even Patrick couldn't conceal his laughter.

"Just get in the backseat," Kat frowned she told him as she started the car, so they could make a hasty exit.

"Shut up Patrick!" Bianca snapped as she slammed Kat's door shut. She then turned to her sister and whined, "She'll get over this eventually, right?"

"Eventually," Patrick said very slowly, still trying to keep his laughter under control. "Hey Kat, why don't we take Bianca home first, I can afford to be a little late."

When Bianca was safely in the house, Patrick made his way back to the front seat—with a jacket under his jeans to avoided any lingering syrup—and turned on the radio, effectively, in Kat's mind, drowning any chance of conversation. But when they were about a block or two from the record store that Patrick worked at he brought up the conversation again.

"So what was it that you wanted to tell me, again?"


"Y'know before your sister arrived. You're were going to say something…"

"Oh…right, listen um," Kat choked. "Am I ever going to meet your parents?"

Patrick froze.


"Are you ever going to introduce me to your family?"

"You want to meet them?"

"Well, you're pretty acquainted with mine, I just figured…"

"Just figured what?"

"That it wouldn't be this big deal!" Kat defended as they pulled in front of Patrick's store.

"I mean it's just parents after all," Kat continued. "Maybe a sibling or two, but it can't be any worse than mine."

Patrick snorted.

"I'm serious, Pat—"

But his attention was already taken by his boss, who was standing outside of the shop waving frantically for him to come inside.

"We will talk about this later," Kat frowned.

"Sure thing, Kat," Patrick answered quickly leaning in for a kiss, but she wouldn't bend.

"I'm serious, Patrick."

"I know you are," he smiled before snagging a quick kiss anyway, and getting out of the car.

But of course in Patrickland, "Sure thing, Kat" really meant "Yeah right, Kat". And all week, Patrick managed to skip around the subject, effectively driving her nuts.

"Seriously, Kat, it's like someone stuck a hair curler up your butt or something," Bianca complained as they drove to school Friday morning.

"It's nothing, Bianca," Kat growled imagining all of the different way she could kill her boyfriend before he charmed her with his sex hair and his enticing gaze.

"Oh my God!"

Her sister had now dropped her own eye shadow and was leaning over the dashboard, locked in with the sight in front of her.

"Is that Patrick's bike?"

Indeed, the good Harley had seemed to resurrect itself as it waited patiently for the turning light to turn green. But the bike itself was of course, not the issue.

"Kat," Bianca whispered. "That's not Patrick."

Patrick was not that short. He was certainly not that curvaceous, nor did he have hair long enough to peak outside of his helmet.

And despite the fact that ever feminist cell in her body screamed that she didn't care that there was a girl riding the motorcycle that she wasn't even allowed to touch, Katarina Stratford knew for sure that Patrick Verona was a dead man walking.

Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter