Trumped-Ten Things I hate about you, Patrick/Kat
Rated T for language and suggestive content
by Peregrine

Note: These characters belong to ABC Family. I am only playing in their sandbox for a few moments.

*****

1

They think they know me. Judge me for unthinkable misdeeds. And I let it happen, because I am like the jigsaw piece that never fits and leaves the puzzle unfinished. Kind of like my life. Raw, unformed, never sure who I'm supposed to be. The only thing I know for sure is that I don't want to be like any of them. Overly baked children of privilege, with their shiny death machines parked across two spaces, flaunting their mani-pedis and the list of celebrities they tweeted over the weekend.

Everything changes when the She-Wolf nearly takes me out with an open door. Nobody challenges me like that, or gives me attitude with a capital A. The battle continues at lunch, when I let her outstare me and move off, letting her think she's won, when in reality, I know it is only the first of many skirmishes between us.

******

How am I supposed to feel that the school's bad boy has taken an interest in me? I can't help but feel like a bug pinned in place whenever I catch his gaze on me. Dark eyes that burn with a fire that sears every last nerve ending, making me jangle whenever he crosses my path.

And when he finally deigns to open his mouth and utter a few syllables, I am taken aback by the deep timbre of his voice. Or the way it strokes the words like liquid velvet when he says I interest him.

He takes off on his bike, and I get the feeling it's not the last time he'll leave me hanging on his every utterance, exactly like the very thing I despise: the girl who lives and dies for her man.

In disgust, I watch his dark shape recede into the night and vow to shake off whatever spell he's cast over me.

**********

Katarina does not suit her, but Kat does. It fits into the wild animal motif I've fashioned in my mind whenever I think of her, which is way too much.

Pretty girls are a dime a dozen around here, and I can pluck any one of them by smiling in a certain way. But after a few empty acts behind the bleachers, I lose my taste for easy conquests. Blonde bimbos may decorate my bike on occasion, but it's mostly to get a rise out of the Kat woman.

I arrive at school every morning with a spring in my step, waiting for our next clash with an almost maniacal glee.

*****

Carnations? What was my sister thinking? Other than a great way to make us lowlifes feel even worse than usual when no one gives us a flower, it's yet another Bianca blonde moment. Except it isn't…not really. As I play in Photoshop and distort Patrick's face with the Pinch tool, the tiny part of me that still wants to be a girl yearns for the same thing my sister does. I let the thought bloom for a moment before tamping it back down in fury. Forget it. Forget him. He's just some weird guy with a smoldering stare that gets under my skin in a way that no one ever has. And the fact that I'm sitting her mooning over his photo is proof that I've lost it. Except, I have to wonder how he ends up starring in so many of my photos when I never set out to capture his image.

**********

I catch up with Charlie Woo and hand a carnation to him. "For me?" he gesticulates wildly, batting his eyes and darting out of reach when I take a playful swat at his hat.

"I have a job for you." His eyes widen as I float a twenty in front of him.

Good. That got his attention. "What now, boring a hole through the wall in the girl's locker room?"

"That is so last year," I mock, grabbing the carnation and burying my nose in its sweet depths, reminding me for a moment of the swirl of jasmine I inhaled as Kat woman battled for her personal space. "No, I have something much more interesting in mind."

I outline my plan and see that he is way more jazzed than I expected. "I would be honored to give this to sweet Kat," Charlie intones, and sweeps out his hand in a courtly bow.

Something didn't smell right. "You sure you're down with this?" I ask idly, chewing on my lip and watching Charlie as I blew at a fringe of curls that had flopped down.

"Sure. I would do anything for…I mean, totally," Charlie replies as he trots toward study hall.

It slowly dawns on me that I am not alone in my admiration for a certain willowy brunette, and of course, my fingers clenching into a fist have nothing to do with this fact.

*****