It's Addictive: Take two

I.

CLICK.

Six sets of eyes snapped to the door. Then the eyes ricocheted between pairs.

"Should we go in?" Tara asked softly.

Bonnie blinked. "Of course we should go in." She shouldered Kim out of her way as she reached for the door.

A slim hand grabbed her shoulder, halting her. "Now just a minute, Wannabee, I'll go first." Shego grinned wickedly. "After all, I wouldn't want you children to be damaged for life, now would I?"

Shego's reaching hand was intercepted. A slight twist to her thumb, and Shego followed the pain. "Let go, Princess." She snarled, "Or we are about to go postal."

"He's my BF. I'm going in first." Kim glared.

"Only if," Shego's shoulder slammed into Kim, "you stop her first."

Instead of a hard wall, Kim thudded into a soft body. "What...?" Kim released Shego's thumb, whirling to see her landing pad. Hope, a sickly, apologetic smile on her face, slid to the floor.

"She was sneaking around us, Kimmie."

"Thought it couldn't hurt to try." Hope muttered, "Wrong."

Shego's arm shot out to the side. "And where do you think you're going, little missy?"

"OW, Ow, ow, owie, please, lady, please, not the ear!" Crystal whimpered, "Not the ear!"

Bonnie and Tara glanced at each other, then the door.

"Don't even think about it." Kim growled. "He's my..."

"He's my..."

"BF."

"Buffoon."

Two sets of green eyes glared at each other.

"Jinx, you both owe me a soda." Tara giggled semi-hysterically.

Kim frowned. "What do you mean. 'Your's', and anyway, Ron is so not a buffoon."

"Sure he is, Princess." Shego snickered, "And while he may be your BF, he's my buffoon." She released Crystal's ear, her hands coming up to flare with plasma. "Capiche?"

Crystal slithered back as Tara and Bonnie helped Hope to her feet.

"Are they actually growling?" Tara whimpered, looking at the two near combatants.

"Yeah," Bonnie muttered, "and if we just have a little patience while those two take each other out, we get the Ronshine."

Slow wicked smiles began to grow on the four cheerleader's faces as their leader and her nemesis went into combat crouches and began to circle each other. The four eased backward., anticipating the moment the fighters attention was somewhere else.

The door began to open.

II.

The mechanical voice echoed in the camper. "SIR...YES...SIR...EMPTY...PASSENGERS...DISCHARGED. .SIR...RETURNING...TO...FACILITY."

Steve Barkin shook his head as the RV silently rolled away. "Pilot less palaces. What will they think of next?" He walked toward his car, absently glancing at his clipboard and the notes for tomorrow.

"Stoppable."

Barkin continued for three paces before he whirled, blinking. "Was Stoppable wearing a dress?" "Stoppable!"

Ron cringed before he turned back to the irate teacher. His hand came back to rub his neck, "Ah, yes sir?"

"Where are your clothes man, and why are you wearing a dress?" Barkin stepped nose to nose with the unfortunate teen.

"Well, uh, I am dressed, Mr. Barkin. This isn't a dress, ya see, it's a...ah... a kilt! Homemade to show school spirit." Ron grinned weakly.

The big man stepped back, folding his arms on his chest. "And the rest of your clothes? Your shoes, your shirt?"

"Well, ah, you see Mr. B., I'm trying to stay as life like as I can, and the real Scots warriors didn't wear shirts or shoes, did they?"

Barkin silently stroked his chin in thought.

"Besides, Mr. B., the breeze is really refreshing. You should try it sometime."

Barkin's hand left his chin to cover his eyes, "Why me?" He muttered, before getting in Ron's face again. His eyes glaring, his face mottled, Barkin bellowed, "All right, Stoppable, I'm all for school spirit. You like a refreshing breeze? Fine. Tomorrow, practice, in addition to the regular work out, you will do me twenty laps, in full gear, and see what kind of breeze you can work up."

Ron cowered before the Listerine breath wafting not so gently on his face. "Twenty laps? But, Mr. B..."

"Would you like to make it fifty?" Barkin growled.

"Uh, no, no, twenty laps is fine, sir. Uh, can I go now?" Ron managed.

"Go." As the teen trotted away, Barkin yelled, "And get some clothes on!"

III.

Monique floated out the door. Five jaws dropped, one green mouth grinned. The school fashion maven, who managed to look neat even in gym class, was,rumpled. Her hair flew away in exuberant twirls, her make up was mussed, and what in the world was she wearing?

"Ohhh, Kim." Monique said dreamily, "and you do that all the time? My, my." She continued past her audience, bare feet hardly touching the floor. She was around the corner before the girls could regain their speech.

"Was...was she wearing Ron's towel?" Tara stammered.

Shego's eyebrows almost met her hair line. "I don't know what the buffoon has, but judging by her looks, I think I really want some of that." Before the others could react she slid between them and through the door.

The others rushed hastily behind her, only to freeze when her infuriated scream bounced off the locker room walls, "That sneaky little so and so. He did it again. LOOK!" One finger pointed to the open horizontal window eight feet up.

Bonnie slumped, "Gone again."

Tara sniffled, "You'd think he didn't like us."

Kim began edging toward the door.

Shego strode forward, under the window. "No ladder, no bench, no steps, eight feet up." She whirled on the others who had followed closely. "How did he do it?" She looked at the puzzled faces around her in frustration. "I just...KIMMIE!"

With a flash of red hair, the door slammed.

CLICK!

IV.

Ron sped through the trees, clutching his last vestige of modesty. "Man, what is with these dogs

V.

Kim ran through the halls, determined to reach her BF, the mobile home, and escape. With maybe a little alone time thrown in.

VI.

"That's it, Princess, the gloves are coming off!"