lyrasoze@hotmail.com I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Did you miss me? Thanks as always to Lady A, Amanda and George for taking the time to post all this fanfiction. Let's hear it for the wonderful people who build and support all these sights! And speaking of sites, guess who has one now? That's right, ME!!! I am so terribly proud of myself. Anyway, go check it out, sign my guest book, and so on and so forth. http://www.geocities.com/lyra_2040/lyras_studio.html To those who e-mail me, lots of love! And I have been getting some *great* prom stories from you guys! To my beloved friends and fellow Moonies Mary Ann, Skott and Corie...there are no words. Jess, I *miss* you! And to Spring, the fabulous webmistress of the Spring Library, who has handed the reigns over to Lady A, you're the best! 'I is for Ink. Ink is good. Ink is fun. What can you do with Ink? What rhymes with Ink? D-R-.....' -Shel Silverstein 'Uncle Shelby's ABZ'ss' Disclaimer - I don't own Sailor Moon. Big surprise. Big. Huge. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~ = change in POV -...- = thought Operation: YES!!! by Lyra Matsuoka Rated PG Chapter 2: Say What? *~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~* I honestly believe that there are no words for a situation such as this. It isn't often that a guy drops to one knee, asks a girl to Prom, and gets a chocolate malt dumped on his head in return for his trouble. The fact that I wasn't being *completely* sincere when I asked girl number 10...now, it was that kind of mentality that had gotten me into this fix. If I had added just a dollop of honest feeling to the last proposal, I probably wouldn't be covered in melting chocolate ice cream. And I definitly wouldn't be the laughing stock of the arcade. Well, I wasn't the laughing stock yet, as no one was actually laughing. The whole place was filled with kids gaping at me, waiting for some kind of a response. What I needed now was damage control of the worst, or best, kind. Reaching my hand up, I swiped a dollop of chocolate malt off my cheek and tasted it. "Well, Andrew, I am impressed. When did you learn to cook like this?" I asked, flashing a smile at my best friends. Most of the arcade laughed at this utterly ridiculous, and yet appropriate, comment, while the others continued to gape. How could I blame them? A chocolate covered student body president is not a run-of-the-mill occurance. So I smiled again, a bit sheepishly this time, got off my knees, and turned back to Andrew. "Perhaps that was a bit abrupt?" I murmured. Andrew nodded, and Chad laughed outright. Greg just dropped his head onto his folded arms and shook it back and forth. Andrew reached for a towel and handed it to me. I took it and wiped my face and neck, then dragged the towel through my hair in an attempt to clear the worst of the ice cream out of it. It was futile, but I had to try. Giving up, I draped the towel around my neck and sighed. Time to go home and reflect upon this incident. And exactly how I was going to deal with it. I happened to glance over at the cluster of girls which had surrounded Serena just before I attempted (yet again) to aquire a date for Prom. I honestly couldn't say who was more embarrassed. Me, complete with the latest in Hershey's hairdo's, or those four girls, who were simply staring at me in shock. A small wave broke the trance, but the glazed look of utter stupification didn't quite leave their faces. I shook my head again and groaned. "Hey, man..." Chad started, but I waved him to silence. "It's okay. I've got it covered," I responded. Waving farewell to everyone in the arcade, including Serena's friends, I headed for the door. Shower first, then plan of action. Shower, plan of action. I hopped on my motorcycle, kicked the engine to life and roared off down the street. I left my helmet off, as I was unwilling to wash chocolate malt out of my leather padded helmet. Unfortunatly, this choice left my head bare to scrutiny by the masses, and I got some odd looks. I ignored them as best I was able, and that was fairly easy, since most people just chalked me up to yet another teenage oddity. And I wasn't in much danger, since the combination of preservatives and dairy products on my head had solidified to the point that I doubted an A-bomb would have made much of a dent. The shower didn't help much. I entered my apartment building, recieving a double take from the doorman, entered the elevator and pressed the button, leaning back against the interior of the box. I exited the elevator and walked to my apartment, going through the motions of a normal evening. After spending half an hour, and a great deal of shampoo, in the shower, I ordered out for pizza, and attempted to unwind, flopping down on the couch. But I was unable to relax. I thought, after nine rejections, that being rejected one more time wouldn't matter much. But something about Serena's rejection had sparked a challenge. For the first time, a girl had put me in my place. And the worst of it was, Serena had been right! I had been cocky and insincere. No self respecting female would have taken me up on that proposal. So now I was faced with two choices. 1) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward my next proposal, or 2) Take Serena's advice and apply the knowledge toward convincing her to attend the Prom with me. Hmmm. Decisions, decisions. Obviously, Serena expected me to opt for number 1 and give up. Well, to hell with that. By the time I stepped out of the shower, I had a plan. Serena was the girl. I would convince her to go to the Prom with me no matter what. Neither of us had a date, so that wasn't a concern, and I had two weeks to wear her down. Not only that, I had money, which equaled the means to a relentless pursuit. What was odd about my choice was how blatantly it disregarded any sense of masculine pride. *Serena* had rejected *me*, and under diffferent circumstances I would have let it be. But this was different. She had no *reason* not to like me. I'd never done anything to her...had I? No way, I would have remembered. Or Greg or Chad would have rembered for me. So no, I'd never done anything to her. And I will admit to being a little hurt by this particular rejection. I had feelings, dammit! So, Serena wanted to play this way, fine. This meant war. *~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~* I believe it took three minutes after leaving the arcade for the full implication of what I had just done to sink in. I wasn't sorry, not at all. Chiba had deserved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But no person with an ounce of self respect would allow malt a la cranium to slide by, especially not with an added dollop of public humiliation. And the fact that Chiba was the student body god increased my chances of a vile and horrific payback. But I wasn't worried. Okay, so I was a bundle of jangling nerves, but that was the adreniline rush. Or rather, me coming down off of the adreniline rush. I was *not* afraid. No way, no how. Upwards of sixty people had seen me turn the tables on Darien Chiba, and that was just enough to make certain that the gossip mills ran for a few weeks. I knew that Chiba would be forced to retaliate eventually, and God only knew that he had far more creative ways to get even than I ever would. But I managed to banish that thought, and the thought of the upcoming Prom, for a few more minutes, thinking only of how utterly sweet revenge had been. I finally got home, mere moments before my six o'clock check in. Not that my parents don't trust me, but they are a little worried about me disappearing into the black of night. Odd, I know, but what are ya gonna do? So I stepped through the door of my house and into chaos. The phone ringing, 'Final Fantasy XX' blaring on the TV, my mom yelling at Sammy to turn his game down, and my dad attempting to hear what was being said on the nightly news report through the tinny speakers of our itty bitty kitchen television box. "I'm home," I announced, making certain that my mother saw me, so as to avoid punishment in the near future. I got a spatula gesture in return for my troubles, so I stopped attempting communication and headed upstairs to my room. Peace and quiet were sure to await me there...until I saw the rapidly blinking light on my answering machine. My darling parentals had caved on my sixteenth birthday, allowing me my own phone line. So, I had splurged some of my birthday money on an answering machine, a descision I had never regretted. I counted the flashes. 1, 2, 3, 4. Wow. It was a busy day if I got even one message. So I smiled and hit the 'Play' button while I changed out of my school clothes and reached for my casual pink skirt. 'Hello, this is Serena's microwave. Her answering machine just eloped with her tape deck, so I'm stuck taking her calls. If you'd like anything cooked while you leave your message, just hold it up to the phone.' 'Serena, *why* do you find that amusing? Raye here. Do you have *any* idea what you have done?! Darien Chiba asked you to the Prom and you dumped a milkshake on his head! Are you nuts?!?! Don't bother answering that, I already know that you are. My best friend is a bonafide psychopath! Call me tonight. We have to talk.' BEEP. 'Serena, Mina. The gossip mills are in motion, babe! You have just done what I considered to be impossible. You have turned the gossip machine on Darien Chiba! I salute you. You are my hero! Call me!' BEEP 'Serena, this is Amy...and Lita! The world wants to know, how did it feel to create the first Chiba sundae? Lita...stop that. Serena, what did he say to you? LITA! Serena, call me...us, call us. I'm at Lita's.' BEEP I shook my head as I slipped my pink skirt and a white top on. Raye was probably right. I was probably nuts. But it felt so good to be crazy... The last beep on my machine pulled me out if my self satisfaction. 'Serena? Hi. This is Darien,' I stopped dead in my tracks. 'I realize we got off to a bad start, and I was hoping that you'd allow me the opportunity to correct that. A proverbial second chance if you will. Forgive me my unforgivably rude actions today, and allow me to begin anew' I slowly turned my head around, eying the answering machine as though it were a bomb. 'I'll see you at school tomorrow. Later.' BEEP And that was it. I was left with a very cryptic message, a sense of the surreal, and four best friends who thought I was crazy. After that message, I wasn't all together convinced they were wrong. But I didn't feel crazy. What I felt was nervous. Darien Chiba didn't just call girls up and ask for a second chance. Why was he bothering with me? I was a nobody. So what was Chiba planning? This had all the earmarkings of trouble, and I sensed it. I decided not to return his call. Petty and rude, but I'd do it anyway. Chiba wanted to talk to me, he could talk to me in person, tomorrow! I felt an absurd desire to tack 'under the willow trees. Bring your dueling pistols and your sword' onto the end of that thought. I needed to get out more. I realized then that Darien hadn't left a phone number. All the better. A ready made excuse not to call back. I probably could have found his number, but calling every girl in my grade didn't make a great deal of sense, and besides, I could smell dinner. So I tripped downstairs and pretended that my day had gone well. I didn't return any phone calls. My friends would be miffed, but getting used to disappointment is a lesson we must all learn. So I played 'Final Fantasy' Number Four Million Three Thousand and Fifty Two with my brother and helped my mom bake chocolate chip cookies. Well, she baked, I ate cookie dough, but I did provide companionship. I tumbled into bed, breathing in the scent of fabric softener as I drifted off; and I dreamed of an impossibly blue sky; a sky of a hue that only existed in Darian Chiba's eyes. *~*~*~*~*Next Day*~*~*~*~* Music. There was music playing. Loudly. Next to my ear. Ahhh. Alarm clock. Well, that was all right then. I rolled over and slapped ineffectivaly at my radio alarm. It didn't shut off. Stoneage piece of junk. I tried to drift off again, but the sound of the DJ's voice forced me awake, reeling off the weather report, a few fascinating local events, and then moving on to the real important stuff...Teenage Calendar. "Well, looks like Prom is coming right up! Everybody got their dresses or tuxes, their corsages and dinner reservations? Most importantly, have you got a *date*? Cause I know one guy who doesn't, and one girl that's gonna be happy today. Mr. Bluebird, get ready to sit on a certain shoulder. Hey, Serena Tsukino? You there? I really hope so, cause some lucky guy wants to ask you to Prom! Friends, call Serena, tell her to tune in. You've got thirty seconds." I sat up, staring at my alarm clock. So, this was Darien's revenge. Clever, very clever. I groaned, and buried myself under mounds of pillows. This was not happening. Okay, thirty seconds. Who would it be? Raye, Amy, Lita or...RING!!! I reached for the phone, halfheartedly at best. "Serena, Mina! Turn on your radio right now! Now, girl! MOVE!!! See you at school." Click. Whirlwind Mina strikes another peaceful suburban residance. Back came the DJ. I sat up in bed. "Serena, I hope you are there. I've got a lovely card in my hand. Lemme just read it for the listening pleasures of our entire audience. You don't mind, do you?" I wondered briefly if there was a force in the cosmos powerful enough to stop him. "Dearest Serena," -Just say the name.- "Would you do me the extreme honor of attending the Prom with me?" -Simple enough. Just say the name.- "I could not possible attend if you were not on my arm. I offer nothing but a fabulous meal, a limosine for two and the world at your feet." -Say the name!! There is a slim chance that I am wrong about this, and if I am then I want to hear it. I don't want to shoot the wrong guy.- "Your faithful servant, Darien Chiba." -Damn.- I could practically hear Mina's scream across town. I wasn't the least interested in what any of my friends had to say. So I took my phone off the hook and buried it under three throw pillows and my comfortor. This was ridiculous! I was annoyed, and I was seriously considering staying in bed for the rest of my adolescent life. But the DJ wasn't through with me. "How about it, Serena? Make a guy happy! And keep us posted." Posted? I'd keep him posted all right. I'd post him right up the...wait. Posted? Post... My halo was knocked askew by the little horns that sprang out of my head. Of course I had no intention of saying yes. This 'proposal', for lack of a better term, was just as insulting as the last. So it called for a little something extra. No milkshakes were handy, but I'd do without. I had another plan. I went to my closet and pulled out one of my cutest outfits. I dressed and went downstairs to get Sammy's markers, a positively wicked smile on my face. *~*~*~*~*Darien's POV*~*~*~*~* Even I was forced to admit that the DJ had done a nice job. He had read the card with a certain finesse, and now, as I saw it, Serena had two options. Say yes and be embarrassed by the way she was asked, or say no and be embarrassed for saying no. But the little voice in the back of my head added a third. She could retaliate in some horrible way. Not in a repeat of the milkshake-on-head; she was too creative for that. The more I thought about it, the more all three options appealed to me. Win-Win. After all, I had quite a few surprises left for Ms. Tsukino, and I really wanted to try some of them out. My morning had begun rather early, as I was forced out of bed at a rather obnoxious hour so that I could get the card in to the radio station and talk to the DJ before he went on the air. So I was sitting in a jazzy coffee house sipping on a cappuchino and wolfing down a gigantic chocolate muffin when I heard the announcement. Well, this was lovely. So I headed off to school, a smile on my face. Things were going just according to plan, and I was rather pleased with myself. I wondered how Serena was going to react this time. I didn't have to wonder long. Our school is a fairly large place, but there is one spot where every student must pass every day. The front entry. This marble monstrosity is located right in the middle of an incredibly busy street, and is absolutely impossible to miss. By the time I got to school, almost every student was arriving. And the front entryway was blocked by a large group of gawking students, all of them staring up. I stopped and stared at them. Someone near the back saw me, and very quickly spread the word. Soon everyone was looking at me rather than up. So I looked up. And what should I see but a large piece of butcher paper strung across the top of the entry for all and sundry to see. Not that there was much danger of anyone missing it, since the letters were rather large and in various shades of red. NOT A CHANCE, CHIBA. I had to hand it to her. This was inspired. I was very appriciative and amused. And I let it show by smiling broadly at the group of students watching me eagerly. Everyone wanted to see what I would do. I chuckled for their benefit and headed into the school building. I resisted the urge to rub my hands together in a thoroughly evil fashion. So, she'd taken the prize behind door number three. Goodie. I had not yet begun to fight. *~*~*~*~*Serena's POV*~*~*~*~* I sank into my first hour seat with a delighted sigh. After coloring my fingers to the bone and nearly killing myself hanging that sign (though I'd enlisted Lita's reluctant help with that task) I was looking forward to simply sitting down and taking mindless notes for 50 minutes. Alas, it was not to be. Everyone in school listens to that blasted radio station. And everyone knew that Darien had asked 'Serena' to the Prom. There is only one Serena in our entire school. Lucky, lucky me. And what was odd was that all the girls seemed to think that I *was* lucky. Of course, had I been an observer, instead of the unfortunate victim of these events, I probably would have seen it as romantic and wonderful as well. And to make my life even more glamorous, the story of my dramatic malt disposal on Chiba's head had spread to the far reaches of the school. Oh, joy. And due to my reckless behavior (and the sign I had strung across the front entry of our school) every girl in my homeroom was now my *very* best friend. And they let me know how much they cared by clustering around my desk and asking questions in a garbled fashion. I just smiled and nodded. The true secret to a happy existance: just smile and nod. RING! Saved by the bell. My new following headed reluctantly for their respective desks, and the teacher began role call. I began to relax. Big mistake. Big. Huge. "Serena." "Present." "And attending Prom, I hear," my teacher said, winking at me. Oh, God. Now, my homeroom teacher is a nice enough person as teachers go, but she trained as a preschool-kindergarten teacher, and had taken the position at the high school only until a position opened up in the primary grades. Hence the winking, smiling, and generally cheery attitude. "Not attending. She's been asked twice, by the same guy, and she's said no both times!" I resisted the urge to turn about and locate the traitorous girl who had opened her mouth. I simply stared straight ahead, refusing to participate in this discussion. "But Darien Chiba asked her this morning," my teacher said, bewildered. "I heard it on the radio." "He asked her yesterday, too!" And the peaceful homeroom was shattered by gossip. I opened my notebook to write a complaint to the student council while various tidbits about my love life flew around me. My teacher was aghast at the idea that anyone would turn Darien Chiba down. I was halfway through my complaint when I realized that Chiba was the President of the Student Council. I tore out the letter and crumpled it up. I was about to attempt a three-point shot into the trashcan when the intercom chimed to life. I smoothed out my crumpled sheet of paper and began drawing while the date and lunch menu were read. I doodled through announcements concerning various clubs, and through soccer, track, and baseball announcements. The boring voice of the principal bid us good day, and on came a smooth, sexy personality that I was beginning to despise. I pretended not to notice. "Good morning! This is your student body president." My entire class swiveled to gauge my reaction. I just smiled serenely. He hadn't quit after being brained with a milkshake, but the sign was sure to call a halt to this ridiculous, and insulting, pursuit. So I had nothing to be worried about. Chiba went on for a while, reporting the senior class fundraiser, performance dates of the senior class play, and then he moved on to more important matters. Namely, the Prom. Decoration commitee, refreshments, pictures, and so on and so on. Having heard all this a million times before, and it not being relevant to my life, I tuned it out. "And finally, the most important question of all. Do you have a date?" Most girls in my class nodded, a few shrugged. I was the only one who didn't react at all. "Cause I don't." I froze. Every other girl made symathetic sounds in the back of their throats, an endeavor I did not undertake. I pretended not to notice the little shivers that walked up and down my spine at the sound of his voice. "That's right. I, your student body president, do not have a date for the Prom. And in spite of numerous attempts to correct that situation, I have remained dateless. However, I remain undaunted." - No way. It's simply not possible that he would try again. I am worrying for nothing. - But a little part of me was disappointed. Okay, a big part of me. I *really* wanted to go to Prom, just not with a guy who was so utterly insulting. Even if he did have amazingly blue eyes and a sexy smile. I worried for nothing. "How about it, Serena? I've got the tux if you've got the time. Have a nice day, all!" I stared at the intercom. The class stared at me. When I made no move to respond, my teacher broke the silence. "Yes, well..." she trailed off. The bell chimed again, signaling the end of homeroom. I grabbed my bag, and was nearly out the door when the intercom buzzed to life again. "I've also got a limosine and reservations for dinner. What do you say, Serena?" I glared at the intercom, turned around, grabbed an eraser from the chalk tray and threw it at the hapless intercom. It came back down in a suffocating cloud of chalk dust, which I did not have to choke through because I was already stalking down the hall. Now I refused on principal. Resistance had become duty. I swore that I heard the national anthem playing in the background as I walked to my next class. It didn't stop with the intercom message. A heart shaped box of chocolates on my desk in Spanish. My favorite kind, of course. A bouquet of pink, white, and baby blue balloons in my history class anchored by a large white teddy bear, which was actually rather adorable. My history class thought I should say yes. So did my Spanish class. I thought that one of my friends had turned traitor. How had he known about the chocolates? And balloons in my favorite colors anchored by my favorite type of stuffed animal was just too perfect. So I began formulating an evil plot to get even with whichever one of my friends was batting for the other team. The near breaking point that Chiba had no doubt been waiting for occured during phys ed. And it was so subtle that I hardly knew what hit me. I had dressed down and was about to head for the gym when a girl in my class came up to me and handed my a paper heart, folded in two. I opened it, to read one word... Please? And it was written in little hearts. Oh, man! He was not playing fair! He didn't get to be nice! Chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals, those were all fair game. With a little strength of character, I could handle those. All I had to do was remember those blue eyes mocking me in the arcade. But he was not allowed to be sweet! That thought kept me blazing through the day. Well, near the end I wasn't actually blazing. I was gimping along, my bag full of books, chocolate, and paper heart in one hand, my teddy bear in the other, with the balloons trailing along behind me. I was entertaining the idea of returning the gifts in plain view of the school when I reached my locker. With my free hand I reached to twist the combination into the padlock, and when the lock gave way, I swung the metal door open. I put my history book and Spanish flashcards in my locker, and pushed the door shut, anticipating a rather embarrasing ride home. It is not everyday that one sees a girl walking down the street laden with a large teddy bear. And, of course, some wise a$$ would ask me *why* I was carrying a giant teddy bear down the street. And then I would have to choose. Either I would be kind and polite and answer the moron's question, or I would drop my teddy bear on the street, tackle the jerk and install him/her as a permanent fixture on the nearest telephone pole. Probably with a staple gun. A blue staple gun. Maybe this hapless victim would have dark hair, sexy eyes and an extremely kissable mouth. Waking myself, I resisted the urge to kick my locker. I settled for just slamming it shut. And when I turned around, my fantasies came to life. My six foot two inch, black haired, blue eyed, annoying, frustrating, baffeling, sexy, amazing, incredible, drop dead gorgeous fantasy sprang out of my daydreams and into the space in front of me. I wasn't sure whether to smack him or throw the teddy bear at him. I did neither. I dropped the teddy bear, balloons, my bag and looked right at him. He looked back, a slight smile on his lips. He looked sincere and sweet and open and charming. And I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I closed the miniscule distance between us, looked up at him, and with the memory of that paper heart in mind, I reached my arms up, looped them around the student body president's neck, pulled him down to my level, and pressed my lips to his. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* So, whatcha think? Mail me and lemme know! *Lyra hugs her laptop* I love this thing! Not only can I check my email anywhere that has a telephone line, but I get to pick my own wallpaper! I currently have the manga picture of Sailor Pluto from Act 18 of the manga up. I just love it! lyrasoze@hotmail.com