○ Hello.

○ There is a really lame song in this story.

○ You can laugh when you read it if you want.

○ It's, like, in the first line.

● Dude, this is so sad...

● You know, me not owning the Total Drama... series.

● I mean, it's depressing to me, at least.

† Enjoy.

That's How You Know 4

"What are little girls made of~? What are little girls made of~?" a seven-year-old Courtney sang, spinning around her overly pink room in a tutu that matched it perfectly. "Sugar, spice and everything nice~! Oh. Sugar and spice~! Not to mention everything nice~! Oh, yes, that is what little girls are made of~!" Courtney continued her bouncing and twirling around her room, only stopping to giggle as she spotted herself in her large mirror.

"Courtney, dear, what are you all giggly about up there?" her mother called up the steps.

Courtney smiled brightly as she heard her mother's voice and bounded over to the steps. "I'm just practicing, Mommy!"

Her mother smiled as she saw her daughter's smile, coupled with her tutu and her corkscrew pigtails, Courtney looked simply adorable. "Just be sure to practice your real routine so you don't mess up," she called playfully.

Courtney covered her mouth as she giggled. "I know, Mommy!"

"Now, go back to your stardom, dear," her mother said happily, turning to go back to cooking dinner.

Courtney skipped back into her room, humming happily to her favourite song. "The big recital is tomorrow," the little girl said as she twirled her pigtails in her fingers as she stared into the mirror. "I am going to win, too!"

"You sure seem confident," a voice said from her bay window bench, scaring her so badly she jumped and let out a squeal.

"Duncan!" the little girl gasped. "I told you not to do that! Why can't you just call and ask, then come over by using the front door like a normal person?"

Duncan shrugged as he bounced his bottom up and down on the overly cushioned bench. "I guess it's just not as fun that way."

Courtney huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't enjoy you being here," she stated proudly. "All you do is pick on me."

Duncan laid so he was upside down on the bench. "You know what they say, Princess. Boys only pick on girls they think are cute."

Courtney's face turned as pink as the tutu on her body and the ribbons in her hair.

"You're even cuter when you do that," Duncan said, winking at her before flipping off the bench and onto his feet. "Not to mention that pretty voice you have."

Courtney smiled at his compliment, but quickly turned it back into a scowl when she realized what she was doing. "Don't compliment a girl just so she won't be upset with you," the brunette chided.

"I'm not just saying it to make you happy," Duncan claimed, plopping his but back onto the trampoline-like cushions.

"Liar," Courtney said, turning her head away from him and back towards her mirror.

"Whatever you say, Princess," Duncan said, leaning against the large window he had come into her room through.

(^.^)

Courtney plopped her bottom on the curb in front of her large house, which was currently being swarmed with neighbours, co-workers of her father, church members, family members, and family friends. The brunette sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeves as tears began to sting her eyes.

"I hate this town," the brunette spat quietly. "I hate the people. I hate the buildings. I hate the cul-de-sac. I hate the parks. I hate everything." She squeezed her eyes shut as she clasped onto the end of her jacket sleeves, wrapping them around her hand like mitten replacements.

Duncan let out a breath as he fell onto the curb beside her. "You gonna be okay, Princess?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him.

"Not really," Courtney breathed out, shoving her face into her sleeve covered hands.

"You should be," the boy said, running his hand up and down her arm. "I mean, your dad is in love again, you get another woman to be in the house—"

"Thank you so much for not saying, 'You'll get a new mom,' " Courtney interrupted, letting out a breath of relief, happy the conversation wasn't going to be the same lecture she had heard from every adult she knew.

"Well, of course you won't get a new mom," Duncan said softly. "No one could ever replace your mother. Anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense would know that." He paused and let a smile overcome his face. "Hell, this is me talking and I'm the dumbest person you've ever met."

Courtney let out a small laugh as she lifted her head up and looked at him. "You are pretty dumb," she said jokingly, a small smile dancing across her lips.

"Also, this woman can't stand me, so it's a whole new person you can disobey every night," Duncan said, smirking at the thought of annoying the woman who was the reason for Courtney's tears.

The brunette pressed her lips against Duncan's—a short, sweet kiss. "Thank you," she whispered, leaning her head on his chest.

"Besides, as a Wilkes, I cannot possibly let a pretty girl be upset," Duncan said, a hint of bragging in his voice.

Courtney shook her head. "I wish you wouldn't call me pretty just to cheer me up."

"Like I've been telling you for years, I never compliment you just to make you feel better or happy," the boy argued. "I tell you because I mean it."

Courtney sighed and stared at the street. "Yet, you still haven't said you love me."

Duncan let out a sigh. "You seem to think I just throw that term around to all kinds of other people."

"I just don't see why you can't say it," she said, tugging at her jacket

The boy ran a hand through his mohawk and let out a breath. "The last person I said, 'I love you,' to was Delores."

Courtney suddenly felt a cold sweat cover her body. "I—I didn't mean to bring her up," she said, letting her head hang. "I know you really miss her."

"I never should have let her ride her bike that day," Duncan said, taking his arm from around her shoulders and putting his head in his hands.

Courtney's eyes teared up again. "Duncan, stop talking about it. We both know you have done enough explaining for a lifetime," she pleaded, setting a hand on his back.

Duncan rubbed his face with his hands before looking back at her. "You're right; we should focus on something else." He poked her side and smiled. "Like maybe you singing that song you always used to when we were little."

Courtney let her head fall back and let out an aggravated sigh. "Only if you promise to not laugh."

Duncan clamped a hand over his mouth and nodded.

The brunette held her head back up high and took in a breath, closing her eyes as she began singing. "What are little girls made of~? What are little girls made of~?" she paused and looked at him, sighing as his eyes told her to keep going. She closed her eyes and continued, "Sugar, spice and everything nice~! Oh. Sugar and spice~! Not to mention everything nice~! Oh, yes, that is what little girls are made of~!"

Duncan let his hand fall as he smiled at her. "You used to sing that song without me asking all the time, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Courtney said, rolling her eyes. "I don't see why you always make me sing it."

"Because Delores loved it and your mother taught it to you," the boy explained, causing the girl to smile softly. "And, as we both know, your mother probably sings it to her every night."

Courtney shook her head at Duncan. "You are so… so… God, I love you," she said, slightly shocked by her own sudden change in character.

Duncan wrapped his arm around her again and said, "I love you, too, Courtney."

The brunette opened her mouth to say something, but stopped and decided to simply remain quiet and memorise how she felt, soaking in every detail of the moment she'd been waiting what seemed like a lifetime for.

Even though he had worn colours only so he could match her eyes, tried to read a card before giving it to her, and even given her the last burrito, nothing matched up to how she felt when he put how he felt into words.

The girl looked towards the sky and thought to herself, That's how you truly know.

○ We have come to the end of this small one-shot series.

○ I have to go be sick, nao.

○ Damn sushi & it's wanna-make-people-sick-ness.

○ ^ Too much information?

† Oh. &, if it's not too much trouble, could you boost or lower my ego by reviewing?

† It'd be pretty chill if you could.