Rosaline: Hyperactive Summer

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Chapter 7

Carrie buttoned the top buttons on her polo shirt as she made her way down the stairs the following morning. When she made it to the first floor, she saw Frankie in the kitchen with his head in the freezer.

"Good morning, Frankie," Carrie said quietly.

The pigtailed girl was careful not to rouse Al, who had fallen asleep in the chair he had taken residence in the previous night, or Rosaline, who may or may not be sleeping while sprawled out on the dining room table. In addition, David was sitting with his knees against his chest and his hands in fists as he watched with wide eyes the anime that still played on the television.

"Good morning. Hey Carrie, would prefer a hamburger, a bratwurst or it's rejected, inbred cousin the hotdog?" Frankie spoke with his head still in the freezer but at a volume that said he didn't care about disturbing the other people in the room.

"I guess I'd be fine with a hamburger," Carrie said, as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the machine.

"Hamburger it is then," Frankie said, pulling a frozen patty in a plastic bag from the freezer. "Oh, Carrie, don't tell me you have to work today. It's the Fourth of July."

"Sorry, but they're giving me a discount on swimwear for working on a holiday. So that's something, I guess." Carrie didn't seem too eager to go to work either.

"Oh well, have a light lunch because we're barbequing tonight."

"Okay, see you tonight, Frankie. Bye Rosaline." Rosaline didn't respond. "Bye Al." Al continued to snore lightly. "Bye…David."

"Why are you randomly speaking French? You're Japanese; speak English!" David yelled at the television.

"Later Carrie," Frankie said as he continued to paw through the refrigerator.

"Okay." Feeling a little lonely, Carrie left the beach house and walked to the department store by herself.

Upon removing a watermelon from the refrigerator, Frankie caught a whiff from some unknown source. Such a sharp odor immediately distracted the tall teenager, sending him off his projected schedule and instead following his nose up the stairs to where the smell was most likely coming from.

Rosaline was struck by another idea, just as she had as she lay on the dining room table the previous morning. Before the sun had a chance to rise, the brown-haired girl decided that her attempts at modesty were not successful, and thus came inside in the middle of the night, draping her body over the wooden table in a fit of melancholy. But this sudden idea pried her off the table and sent her backwards onto the floor as soon as it pierced her brain.

"Huh?" Al said, as Rosaline's exclamation and fall awoke him.

"Yes, finishing move!" David leapt from his chair as the hero enacted the final blow. "Gah, Rosaline, what are you doing?"

Rosaline stood several inches taller than David and had more than enough upper-body strength to entrap the frail boy in a headlock.

"Well, Pervy, it's like this." She spoke through a demonic smile. "I need your help. You're going to use your knowledge of the perverted arts to make me look like a slut."

"You don't need my help with tha- ah!" Rosaline suddenly jerked up, choking David as he spoke.

"Now, now; none of that; just help me out with this one little thing." Rosaline squeezed harder.

"Fine, fine," David gave in. Holding out any longer would make him pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Good," Rosaline said, suddenly releasing him. David gasped for breath but only until Rosaline's hand gripped down on the top of his skull, squeezing as she led him out of the living room. "C'mon Pervini, work your magic. Are you coming, Al?"

"You betcha," Al said, standing up, pivoting on his heel and marching after them, a big smile across his lips.

It was not surprising. The smell that slowly permeated the whole house originated from R-Kelley's room. Frankie tried to open the door, but it seemed stuck. With a little effort the football player forced it open, and then the reason for the stuck door became obvious.

It was well known and generally accepted that R-Kelley detested cleaning, whether it was cleaning a house or washing himself. That was why Frankie gave R-Kelley responsibility over Bro Dog, thus relieving him of housework. Frankie made the assumption that, while R-Kelley didn't have to do dishes or tidy the living room, he would at least maintain his living space. Frankie was wrong.

None of the bedrooms at the beach house were particularly spacey, so it didn't take many clothes to cover up the hardwood floor. But it was the condition of the clothing, filthy and smeared with who-knows-what, that gave cause for alarm. In addition, the walls and bedspread seemed to be smattered with a similar who-knows-what.

Frankie stepped over the dirty clothes, looking around the room.

"I just washed these clothes a few days ago. What happened?"

The bed was stripped. The pillows were pulled out of their cases, and the sheets were piled up on the floor. All the drawers from the dresser were pulled out and empty, aside from one which contained all the books R-Kelley had been reading over the past few weeks. On top of the dresser sat a collection of crusty bowls and plates from some midnight snack a number of days or weeks ago.


"Huh?" The lanky teenage boy rose from under a pile of clothes like a zombie breaking free from its grave. "What is up, Frankie?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"R-Kelley, your room stinks! I can smell it from downstairs."

Frankie's angry yelling disturbed Bro Dog, who crawled out from under the pile of sheets on the floor.

"Bro Dog, how could you? Get out. Get!" Frankie seemed deeply hurt at Bro Dog's endorsement of R-Kelley's messy lifestyle. "I trusted you man." The golden retriever hung his head low as he walked out the door. "I trusted you," he whispered again.

Frankie then slammed the door loudly and turned sharply towards R-Kelley, who was still sitting on the floor. The football player's eyes were frightening as he stalked menacingly towards R-Kelley.

"Hey, now, Frankie, buddy, pal, my chum on the rocks. Heh heh."

"Drop the nicknames, R-Kelley; you're not Al." Frankie's voice was deeper and a lot raspier than usual. He slammed his hands down on R-Kelley's shoulders, squeezing tightly to keep him from escaping. "You and I are going to clean this place. Everything in this place. Starting with you."

"Hey, let's not be too hasty. No, I don't want to; let me go!" R-Kelley shouted quickly in a panic. "No, no, no-ho-ho-ho-ho!"

"Quiet down; it's for your own good." Frankie struggled to keep R-Kelley in place.

Through wild kicks and violent squirming, R-Kelley broke free of Frankie's clutches. But the burlier teenager still blocked the door. Frankie made several lunges to try to trap R-Kelley, utilizing all his football and wrestling experience to pin the skinny boy down.

Ignorant to the commotion upstairs, Michy Sorsa halfheartedly knocked on the front door. Her blonde hair was in its usual ponytail, and she wore a plain white t-shirt and jean shorts.

"Please let this be a stress-free, uneventful day," Michy said to herself, "and please let me not run into what's-her-futs."

It was then that R-Kelley, having attempted escape by jumping out his open bedroom window, followed by Frankie, who pursued R-Kelley by also jumping out the window, landed in the bush right outside the front door. R-Kelley crawled out of the bush, clawing at the ground to escape from the larger boy, who was now on top of him. Michy watched, not really mustering up enough emotion to seem surprised.

R-Kelley suddenly stopped struggling upon seeing her. He waved.

"Hey Michy."

"Michy? Who's Michy?"

"That's Michy."

"I'm Michy."

"Gah! Help me, Michy!"

"No, he deserves this, Michy."

"Michy wants to know why she should or should not help him."

R-Kelley ceased struggling again and gave the blonde lifeguard an odd look.

"Talking in the third person; that's a pretty weird trait." Michy said nothing and began to walk away. "No, wait, I didn't mean it. Please, help me, Michy! He's gonna kill me!" R-Kelley reached out for her.

"As if," Frankie said, "I just want him to take a shower."

R-Kelley fussed some more until Michy pulled him up by his tank top. Her eyes were scary and her smile was demonic, like someone who truly enjoyed sentencing others to the bowels of hell.

"M-Michy?" R-Kelley muttered, looking like a scared puppy.

"Sorry, R-Kelley, but you must bathe!" she growled.

R-Kelley slipped out of his tank top, kicked Frankie off of him and ran down the street topless and shouting like a frightened child. Frankie pounded the ground in frustration before running after him. Michy hesitated for a second, looking at the tank top she still held in her fingers. It was crusty from more of that who-knows-what. She dropped it and with a disgusted look, shook her hand to get the residue off her fingers.

"Get back here, you slime!" Michy shouted as she joined the chase.

The beach house that the teenagers were staying at for the summer was one of several that sat directly on the beach. Their neighbors, however, had larger places that were left to more respectable tenants than a group of wild high schoolers. While theirs was a special case, the people in the neighboring houses were generally wealthy, but despite the upper-class neighborhood that Frankie and his friends were lucky enough to end up in, the road that linked the neighborhood to the city was worn down and old. There wasn't even a sidewalk, but it did allow direct access to the beach.

So R-Kelley ran barefoot down the bumpy road with Frankie and Michy in pursuit. Normally Frankie would have been able to outrun any of his friends; he had the strength and the stamina, but R-Kelley had a secret weapon.

Even he wasn't sure if it could be called a yodel, but the throaty call that he gave was like a monkey's mating call that echoed through the neighborhood. Although it did not attract a mate, it did send a storm of beachgoers off the sand and onto the street. They went right past R-Kelley, allowing him to continue running, and charged towards Frankie and Michy.

"Who are they?" Michy asked.

"They must be his followers," Frankie answered, not hesitating to charge right into the crowd.

"His what?" Michy stopped running.

The crowd of people must have totaled over thirty, ranging from college students to little kids. It wasn't long before Michy was subdued by the mob, but Frankie made a valiant attempt. He pushed people aside, forcing his way through, but he too was overpowered by their collective strength.

Rosaline had explained that her attempt at modesty was unsuccessful. She said that the reason was that she wasn't catching their eyes. So now she was enlisting David to make her look like a slut in order to appeal to their inner perverted nature. That perverted nature in David is a crime against humanity, but in other guys it is apparently okay as long as they're hot and willing to date her. Rosaline's double-standard did not go unnoticed by the blonde-haired boy.

Attempt number one: the lolita schoolgirl.

Rosaline emerged from the beach house to meet with Al and David who were standing on the beach leaning up against the porch. Her hair was down like normal, but she wore a short blue skirt, a white button-up shirt, a navy blue blazer and a blue ribbon around her neck.

"Hey this feels off," Rosaline said, adjusting her shoulders under the strap of the electric bass she was carrying.

"That's because you're wearing it wrong." David lifted the instrument off her shoulders and turned it around. "This is a left-handed bass."

"But I'm not left handed."

"It doesn't matter; the character you're portraying is left-handed."

"Fine, what am I supposed to do?"

"Walk down the beach confidently, but if someone talks to you suddenly become really shy." David explained this like a professor.

"Right." Rosaline headed down the beach with the bass, leaving Al and David as they were.

"So the show last night was really good?" Al asked.

"Meh, it was decent," David answered, seeming unimpressed.

"Decent? You watched it all night like a stupid little kid," Al said in disbelief.

"Well that doesn't mean it was good. I've seen plenty of shows that were way better than that garbage." As David said this, Al stared at him with an odd expression.

Rosaline walked down the beach with her nose in the air. Plenty of people stared, but no one made any contact until one guy, shirtless on a towel, spoke up.

"Hey, play us a song."

Interpreting David's directions the best she could, Rosaline shrieked "Wah!" and ran to the water's edge, cowering in a ball with her hands over her ears. Instead of comforting her like she expected, the spectators either laughed at Rosaline or gave the girl a weird look. What the hell, she thought, why isn't this working? Stupid Pervert! Then a wave came in and threw the tan girl and her bass to the ground.

"Oh my gah!" David shouted, looking over the soaked bass. "What are we going to do with this?"

"Who gives a flack about the bass? Your dumb plan didn't work." Rosaline complained, still in the school uniform.

"Well this was a rental. We can't return it in this condition. It's going to rust or warp or something." Al added. The two boys looked over the damage on the deck of the beach house.

"Pervy's got a job," Rosaline said, "he can take care of it."

"Me?" David said angrily.

"Yeah, it was your idea. Take responsibility for your mistakes, stupid."

Rosaline ignored the fact that she was in possession of the bass when it was ruined. If David countered with this argument, Rosaline would twist his arm. He growled internally.

Attempt number two: half-wolf-half-girl spirit.

Rosaline sat on the edge of the porch in a lavender long-sleeve shirt, black pants, and a red sash around her waist. Around her neck hung a small pouch filled with flour, the closest thing David could find off hand to wheat. On the top of her head protruded two pointed ears, brown and white-tipped. As the tan girl sat, she carefully combed a brown furry tail on her lap.

This time, David's instructions were for her to be wise and meticulously careful with her tail. So she sat quietly by herself, running the comb through the fake fur as many times as needed. But again, while many stared, no one came over to talk to her. And after yesterday, Rosaline was not in the mood to play the waiting game for very long.

"So what didn't you like about it," Al asked of the anime, "you seemed to really enjoy it last night."

"It wasn't a bad series. It just had too much gore, too much fan service, the story was fragmented, and after each character was introduced they barely did anything for the rest of the season." David explained this as he and Al sat comfortably at the dining room table playing black jack. "But don't worry; the second season and the spin-off series are way better. We can watch those tonight."

"Err…um…I'm pretty sure I'll be busy tonight." Al was pretty sure he had nothing planned for tonight.

A flying shoe smacked David in the shoulder. Then another hit him in the forehead, making him drop his cards onto the floor. Rosaline stood at the end of the table, fists clenched and scowling.

"Your idiotic plans aren't working," she growled. "I'm tired of waiting. You need to think up something better." Her commands were both biting and showed a complete lack of gratitude.

"I think," Al spoke up in order to prevent another argument, "that your costumes are good and your acting is good. The problem is just that they're out of place on the beach."

"Hmm, you may be right," David granted as he rubbed his chin.

"Oh, Al, you little genius, you," Rosaline cheered.

Attempt number three: magical nun.

Rosaline bit down on David's head. The brown-haired girl was draped in a white robe with gold lining and a nun's cap. There were also several clothespins stuck in the odd outfit. She didn't bother waiting for this costume to fail before lashing out in frustration.

"Ah, get off!" David ordered in agony.

"Yeah right." Rosaline spoke in a muffled voice as she sunk her teeth into David's skull. "If this is your idea of making me look attractive, then you're a pervert and a failure. The only guys who'd hit on a nun would be total creeps and rapists. Enjoy this feeling because this is as close as a woman is ever going to willing get to your head, you creep."

"Eh heh," Al held up one finger, "again, nice costume, wrong place."

R-Kelley casually walked into the swimsuit department at the store Carrie and David worked at or at least as casual as he could be being out of breath and constantly on the lookout for Frankie or Michy. The whole department store was pretty vacant. People would rather spend their Fourth of July doing things other than shop, R-Kelley assumed. But it meant that Carrie wasn't busy, and she gladly accepted his company.

"How are you, R-Kelley?" she asked with a smile.

"Frankie and Michy are on the warpath." R-Kelley placed his hands on the counter to support himself. "They want me to take a shower. Can you believe that?"

"Oh, well, have you taken a shower recently?"

"Yep," he answered quickly, "about a week ago."

"Oh," Carrie said, not enjoying the smell of sweat that wafted towards her.

R-Kelley sighed before turning his smile up towards Carrie. "And how are you doing today? Work isn't too stressful, I take it." He looked around, seeing only half a dozen patrons on the floor.

"Its lunch time, so we generally don't have many customers at this hour. Admittedly, it's my favorite time to work." Carrie said as she wiped a white towel over the glass countertop.

"Do you like working here? Is it fun?"

"Actually it's not so bad." Carrie blushed despite herself. "I didn't think I could have a job since I'm not really good at anything. But I guess I'm doing alright. They even offered me a position as a floor manager."

"Really? That's great! Did you take it?" R-Kelley asked excitedly.

"No, I didn't. The pay was a little better, but I didn't want to take the job. I've almost finished paying my portion for the car repairs, and I plan to quit after I do." Carrie almost seemed sad saying this. She wasn't particularly unhappy about quitting, but that one thing still weighed on her mind.

"You're still uneasy about your relationship with David," R-Kelley stated matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" Carrie brought her hand to her face instinctively to cool the blushing.

"I can tell," R-Kelley said with a mysterious smile. He brought his fingers to his temples. "You're giving off very strong 'I'm-still-uneasy-about-my-relationship-with-David vibes.'"

"I tried talking to him yesterday, but he seemed so distant, like he didn't want to see me." Carrie's head drooped slightly. Her opalescent eyes were fixed on the counter as she spoke. "Frankie said I should let him know that I'm ready to forgive him. That that would make him feel more comfortable. But how do I do that?"

R-Kelley gazed at her with a smile and blank eyes, as if he was watching a boring rerun on television.

"I don't know."

"Why did you bring it up if you weren't going to give me advice?" Carrie pouted slightly.

"Oh," R-Kelley laughed as if he'd missed the change in direction of the conversation. "You wanted advice?" Carrie nodded un-amused. "Let's see."

R-Kelley thought this over. From Carrie's perspective the answer was simple. He could just lock her and David in a room together, they'd end up chatting about the issue and everything would be fixed. After all, she just thought David was ashamed of pulling a prank. If she let him know things were cool, they would be friends again in no time.

From David's perspective, though, it was slightly different. He was faced with unrequited love and total rejection in addition to shame. He didn't know where he fit into her life anymore. He didn't want to be just her friend; he wanted to be more than that. But that was impossible. He couldn't date her now, and going back into the friend-zone was also undesirable. Pulling out altogether was the easiest solution; escape the flow of bad emotions by leaving the party.


Carrie looked confused, as was fitting. After all, she didn't know where this question was coming from. R-Kelley just sprung it on her. In fact, he was a little surprised by his own ability to think the situation over. Having never had a girlfriend, intimate relationships were a bit foreign to the long-haired boy.

"Who is David to you?" he asked again.

It was such an odd question. What was the obvious answer: well he's my friend. But while that was simple and easy, the real answer is never so bland. A person is never just one's friend; there are always other emotions tied to that word. If she was just simply friends with David, then their relationship, in reality, wasn't that deep. The question is really "how do you feel about this person?" And that, in and of itself, is difficult to put into words.

"Um…well, I guess…to me-" Carrie's thoughts were interrupted suddenly.

"There he is!" Frankie called out as he and Michy came running at R-Kelley.

"Gotta go," R-Kelley said quickly before running off.

"Hey Carrie," Frankie said as he ran by.

"Hey Carrie," Michy said as she ran by.

R-Kelley made a mad dash for the escalator. Rather than going down the stairs, he jumped up on the moving hand railing and ran down it with his hands out to both sides of his body for balance. Frankie and Michy watched the display from the top of the escalator in amazement.

"Who are we dealing with here?" Frankie shouted.

"You tell me," Michy yelled back.

The two of them tried to go down the escalator at the same time but got stuck. Frankie stepped back to let Michy go first, but she lost her balance and was about to fall down the moving stairs. But Frankie quickly grabbed her shoulder, pulled her back, sending her to the floor, and ran on after R-Kelley. Michy grumbled as she got up and followed suit.

"Um," Carrie watched the whole scene, "who was that girl?"

David cupped his chin curiously as he and Al looked over the coffee table in the living room. They had made quite a few purchases that day, all at Rosaline's expense. David was sure of that. The wolf-girl and the nun costumes were purchased from a costume store in town, and having been removed from the packaging, could no longer be returned. The electric bass that Rosaline had drenched was reluctantly returned to the music shop they rented it from. The owner said he would be sure to send them the repair bill.

"This isn't going to work," David pointed out.

The outfit they were planning for Rosaline next was another schoolgirl uniform. This one, however, was a white sailor suit with a pink skirt and a pink ribbon. The character David had in mind was popular enough, but he now imagined that Rosaline wouldn't fit the role.

"Ka-" Al scoffed as he tried not to laugh. "This isn't going to work, but you thought the nun's outfit would?"

"It's not the outfit," David answered, "its Rosaline. She's just too…big."

"Oh, it's the boobs, right?"

"Yes, but it's not just about her breasts; she's too tall. She'll completely miss the mark for the character." Both David and Al resigned to think up another plan; maybe some of the costume could be used in a different way.

It was then that Rosaline entered the room with a towel around her neck. She very loudly announced her presence and was eager to show off her newly-dyed blue hair. With a cat-like smile she pointed to the black spot she drew on her face, the beauty mark David instructed her to add. The two teenage boys quickly scrambled for a new idea. Rosaline wouldn't be happy about this sudden change in plans.

An hour later, a red and white striped umbrella shaded Al and David as they reclined in beach chairs. Al leaned back, watching the swimmers in the ocean as he drank his cold lemonade through a straw. The icy drink and the ocean breeze chilled Al a little, even on this relatively warm day. He placed the glass on the table next to him and gave a content sigh.

"Here's your drink, sir."

David, reclining in his own chair under the umbrella's shade, lifted his sunglasses to see Rosaline standing at his side. Her extended right hand offered him his own glass of lemonade while her left hand held the tray she had carried it out on. Rosaline lowered herself in such an artful way so that her breasts wouldn't spill out of the outfit.

"Thank you," David said as he accepted the glass. He took a sip of it and said "Could you add a little more sugar. It's kind of sour."

Rosaline took the glass back and, with a wink and an oddly pleasant smile, said "Of course; I'll be right back." She left for the beach house behind them, struggling to walk through the sand in high heels, her ears bobbing with every awkward step.

A bunny girl; Rosaline waited on them while she was dressed in a bunny girl costume. A leotard squeezed her torso and exaggerated her breasts. Her tan legs were covered in brown nylons, while the black high heels pinched her feet. Around her thin neck was a little black bowtie. From her new blue hair protruded the two tall rabbit ears. She had become one of the most famous mascots of sex-appeal the world over.

"Al, you really outdid yourself. This was a great idea," David said as he repositioned his sunglasses.

"That's the only kind of idea I have," Al said with a yawn.

"I'm going to ignore all the bad ideas you've had recently and just say you're the master."


Although Al hadn't really been doing his job recently, that is, his job selling ice cream, he still spent a good amount of time outdoors. All that time was spent not working, but playing; hitting on and harassing numerous girls he met. Aside from Rosaline, he boasted the nicest tan of all his friends. It really contrasted as the two boys sat shirtless next to each other.

As David considered why his skin was so pale, something occurred to him, and it made him sit straight up very quickly.

"This isn't going to work," he said.

"Well of course not," Al laughed, "but we can still enjoy it."

"I just don't get it," David pondered out loud. "Personality aside, there should be a swarm of guys all over Rosaline based on looks alone. Why do they keep looking at such an attractive girl so suspiciously?"

"Jeez, David," Al sat up and removed his sunglasses, looking bleary eyed at the bathers around them. "At least pretend you're not massively attracted to her."

David's face grew dark.

"Don't even say something so heinous."

"If this isn't working, then there is only one logical alternative. She must sell her body on the streets." Al suddenly grew very serious, and David bought it until Al started chuckling softly. "No, I'm just kidding."

"No, she may desperate," David smiled softly to himself, "but Rosaline has too much pride to settle for someone who isn't at least substandard. That being said, we need another idea."

He pulled out a yellow headband with ribbons on the side.

"You know, just looking at this thing makes me think that maybe this world isn't as we know it. Maybe everything, including us and all our memories of the past, were created only three years ago by some obnoxious Japanese girl in high school." He pulled the ribbons off the headband. "That, or a hyperactive drummer in an all-girl high school band that mostly drinks tea after school instead of practicing."

"Pal of mine," Al lifted his sunglasses to give David an irritated look, "references are only funny if people get them, otherwise they're just annoying."

"That, or a female bounty hunter with purple hair that listens to jazz in the futuristic world of 2071." David continued to gaze thoughtfully at the headband until he was interrupted.

A cold glass of lemonade was poured over him. The blonde boy got to his feet, wiping the stinging liquid out of his eyes as he angrily questioned what was wrong. Then the disgruntled bunny girl smacked him in the back of the head with her metal tray.

"What's wrong with you?" David yelled as he rubbed the knot on the back of his skull. There was only so much physical and verbal abuse David could take in one day. And after being up all night, the blonde's patience was waning. David reached his breaking point. But Rosaline took no heed as she gripped her hands around his neck.

"What's wrong with me?" she rhetorically screamed in his face. "Are you stupid? I put on these stupid costumes for nothing! No guy would even talk to me. Only perverted freaks like you would find any of this appealing!" Her scowling face momentarily turned into a hysterical smile. "No, it's my fault. Why would I think you of all people had any idea what normal people think is attractive? You're just a hopeless pervert after all!" Her angry face returned as her grip tightened.

David's face reddened as well. It wasn't her choking that altered his pale complexion, it was the pent up rage all coming to the surface. The constant insults, her barrage of abuse, and now the complete lack of appreciation for his help. It burned within him. The frail boy stared angrily at her as she yelled. He could feel his body grow hot. He reached up and grabbed her forearms, digging his nails into her soft skin. But the taller girl didn't back down.

Yeah that's right, David thought, this was the girl that Carrie had dreamt about. What if this was the creature that Carrie had fallen in love with? This bitch won over the girl he loved? That was unforgiveable, and it only fueled the fire.

"Wait, Rosaline, David really was trying to help you. He wasn't trying to make you look bad, honest," Al tried, sitting up in his beach chair. All too often, he and the others just sat back and let Rosaline and David bicker. It usually was harmless enough, but even Al knew that this time it was going too far.

Rosaline violently tossed David aside, causing the blonde boy to fall backwards, tripping on the chair he had left vacant. From the sand, David grabbed Al's glass of lemonade and flung it at her. Rosaline caught the glass, letting the contents splash against her. She gripped it tightly in her hand with an enraged look on her face. David instinctively held his hand in front of his face, just in case she threw it back. But she didn't; she dropped the glass on the ground and turned away.

Al gave a sigh of relief as Rosaline appeared to calm down. In actuality, she had grown very solemn. David's frustration had boiled over; likewise, so had Rosaline's. It was a summer of rejections. The daily constant efforts to find a boyfriend were fruitless; every plan a failure.

"I'm out of here," she said coldly.

Rosaline suddenly took off, running at the crowd of beachgoers, only a handful of whom had witnessed the spectacle. It was an awkward run, but once the sand had sucked the high heels off, Rosaline was going at full speed. She tackled a poor guy who wasn't even paying attention.

"Why won't you date me?" She had never even seen this guy before. But as she forced his face into the sand with her bare hand, this was the question she was compelled to ask.

"I…I don't know you." He muttered the best he could with Rosaline pressing down on his cheek.

"Well, why didn't you hit on me, talk to me or something? What's wrong with you?" Rosaline asked forcefully.

"Nothing, I just heard a rumor that you're a lesbian," the guy squealed.

The bunny girl's face froze in shock. Her loosened grip allowed the guy to force his way out from under her, toppling the distracted teen to the sand. There, spread out with her blue hair draped haphazardly over the sand, Rosaline made sense of it. A vicious rumor had been spread about her sexuality. She didn't know how it started, but it must have reached every guy on this stretch of coastline.

"Wah!" she cried as she lay on her back. "Wah! Wah! Wah!"

Al and David, as he rubbed his bruised neck, watched Rosaline's pitiful blasts for some time. But when she finally sat back up, she caught a strange sight, and it furrowed her brow.

It was R-Kelley running barefoot and topless down the beach. After him was Frankie in hot pursuit. And behind Frankie was her, the blond hair and everything. She was the girl that had been talking to Sam the lifeguard when Rosaline first approached him. She was the lifeguard that saved Rosaline from drowning, the one who had given her mouth-to-mouth.

Michy was focused on catching R-Kelley when a raging bunny girl tackled her to the ground. Exactly how she did it before, Rosaline got on top of her victim, pressed Michy's face into the sand and pulled back on her arm.

"This is all your fault!" Rosaline yelled once the blonde girl was pinned.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Michy screamed back.

The blonde lifeguard broke her arm free of Rosaline's grasp, latched onto her blue hair and tugged hard. Rosaline shrieked and then proceeded to pull on Michy's hair. The two continued yanking on each other's hair until their enraged faces were cheek-to-cheek.

It was then that Frankie's arms slipped beside her to hook around Rosaline's, pulling her back and up. Rosaline struggled for a moment, but eventually her body slacked in Frankie's grasp. R-Kelley politely extended his hand to help Michy off the ground.

"What the hell?" Michy yelled at the trapped bunny girl.

"Let me go, Frankie!" Rosaline began struggling again. "This bitch is the reason everyone thinks I'm gay!"

"Hey, I heard that yesterday," R-Kelley added cheerfully.

"What? How is that my fault?" Michy's fists tightened.

"Well Blondie, obviously you found an unconscious girl and just couldn't help taking advantage of her." Rosaline explained how she saw the situation.

"I was giving you CPR! But don't worry, next time you're drowning don't expect me to save you!"

"We got a negligent lifeguard over here!" Rosaline yelled.

"I'm gonna murder you!"

"Let's do this!"

"Hold on," Frankie interrupted. "No fighting."

"Frankie's right. You're going to get us in trouble," David added as he and Al approached the group.

"Stop agreeing with Frankie all the time, Pervo," Rosaline barked.

"No, he's right," Michy said. Fortunately, she cooled off quickly. "Let's just forget it."

"I will never let you forget this! I need revenge!"

"Well then bring it on!" Michy's fire was ignited again.

"Handle this like adults!" Frankie yelled.

With a little prodding, Rosaline finally convinced Frankie to let her go. And the blue-haired girl announced another one of her ideas. The tired Michy would have preferred to play something along the lines of rock-paper-scissors, but Rosaline had a bigger game in mind, and she eagerly claimed Frankie and Al for her team.

"But I'll let you have R-Kelley just to be fair," Rosaline granted snottily.

"Just R-Kelley?" Michy asked skeptically.

"Don't worry, you'll have me too. I'll do anything to make Rosaline lose," David announced as he joined R-Kelley on Michy's side.

"Good, we don't want you anyway! By the way, we also get Carrie."

"That's not fair," Michy asserted, "you'll have three players while I only get two."

"The number of players doesn't matter. It isn't about numbers or skills; if you deserve to win then the divine hand of the universe will make it so!" Rosaline lectured, but she didn't really believe this. Frankie bit his lip to keep from speaking out.

"Hmm," Michy pondered this for a brief moment. Even outnumbered they could still win, but it was a risk worth taking. "Okay, fine. Let's play."

Frankie watched as Michy and Rosaline worked out the terms of the game. There was certainly intensity to it. Frankie didn't know how seriously Michy was going to take this little contest, but he knew Rosaline, as usual, would play with every intention of winning.

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