Debbie had spent the remainder of the weekend trying to piece together her ninja identity story, which was easier said than done. The day she came back from the hospital with Randy, Debbie decided to hide away in her room and review any comparisons she found between him and the Ninja—which was absolutely nothing she didn't already know before. Blue eyes, athletic, and a distinct voice that she couldn't prove was his without putting a face to it.

"Damn," Debbie grumbled, closing her computer. She had arrived at school early Monday morning in hopes of making something out of what little evidence she had without interruption, but every time she put her fingers to the keyboard she either couldn't think of anything to write or simply couldn't bring herself to do it. Ever since the Ninja had rescued her from McFist's factory, Debbie had been eager to unmask him, discover his true identity, and even though she had a suspect it was proving to be a more difficult task than she thought, not to mention that every time she was around her suspect she'd lose focus and forget why she was around him.

Why can't I think straight?

At the sound of the first school bell, Debbie carefully placed her laptop back into her bag and started making her way out of the newspaper room. The teachers were tending to their classes, so hopefully none of the staff would notice her, especially since nobody was allowed inside the newspaper room without teacher authorization, including members of the committee. It was a precaution the school board issued in order to keep students safe, or something like that. Either way, it made getting anything done a real pain.

Peeking out from behind the door, Debbie sneaked out of the room once the coast was clear. The hallway seemed pretty empty with only a few students here and there, dragging their feet to their classes, allowing her to make a flawless escape. She hadn't even noticed the tall, slim figure making their way towards her, so when she turned on her heel to head for her locker, Debbie found herself knocking right into another student.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I…" Debbie had been quick to apologize; so quick that she didn't even bother looking to see who exactly she had bumped into. Further inspection found a boy with a smug grin on his face—Randy. Of course. "Oh, it's just you."

"Wow, just me?" Randy asked, a playful tone to his voice. "You know, I'm trying really hard not to be offended by that."

"Sorry," Debbie sighed. "I thought you were someone else."

It was hard looking at him. Even though two days had gone by, Debbie could still see the cuts and bruises that littered his face and neck, and as much as she didn't want to press the subject, the need for an explanation was nagging at her. How could he be so calm about it? Looking like he had just walked out of a street fight seemed to be another day at the park for him, and that's what worried her the most. Just what exactly was his daily life like?

"Debbie?"

"Hm?"

Crap. Debbie hadn't even realized she'd been staring at him. Randy had been trying to get her attention for the past minute or so, and when she didn't respond he started calling her name; three times would be her guess.

"Are you sick or something?" he asked. His brow furrowed in concern as she struggled to find something to say. Gosh, this was embarrassing.

"I'm fine," Debbie insisted, turning away from him. Not only did she want to look away from his injuries, but she couldn't stand the fact that she'd often been coming up speechless around him lately. What was this new effect he had on her? The only reason she wanted to keep close to him was to try and find some solid evidence that he truly was the Ninja, but now Debbie found herself actually enjoying his company, worrying about him whenever a new bruise or scar appeared on his body when she'd normally shrug it off as a result of his stupidity.

These new emotions have often caused her to forget about her investigation, and that's what frustrated her the most.

"I was just going to my locker," Debbie finally explained. "I'll see you in class."

Randy seemed like he wanted to say something, but she wouldn't give him the opportunity, slipping past him with her eyes staring dead ahead. If spontaneous confrontations were difficult for her to manage, sitting next to him in class was going to be next to impossible. Even Debbie herself had to admit that she was naturally inquisitive, and she knew that a question about his injuries would eventually slip out. Randy would find a way to evade the question, which would only lead to her questioning him further; she couldn't help it.

I'll just ignore him, she thought. No eye contact. No conversation. Besides, for all Debbie knew, she was probably on the wrong track with her story. Maybe Randy wasn't the Ninja and all of the evidence she found pointing to him were simply coincidences. Surely there were plenty of other athletic wise crackers with blue eyes in the school.

"Following him around is pointless," she sighed, speaking to no one, "and I'm getting nowhere. Maybe I'll just go back to recording fights…"

Yeah, because that never lead to a dead end.

Randy tapped his fingers on the lunch table, lost in thought and ignoring whatever disgusting story Howard happened to be telling. Practically sharing the same schedule with Debbie used to be his own personal hell, but now that he was just starting to get to know her, thinking that they could actually be friends after all these years of fighting, it wasn't all that bad. Things were going pretty well, which is why he couldn't understand it when she suddenly started ignoring him.

Well, perhaps "ignoring" wasn't the word he was looking for. Debbie would acknowledge him whenever he tried getting her attention, but she'd rarely look him in the eye or offer a response with more than one word. He couldn't recall doing anything wrong or upsetting her in any way, so why? Naturally he thought about asking her, but the chances of getting a straight answer were slim, not that he could blame her. After all, he hadn't been giving her straight answers for the past week, so why should he expect her to?

"Yo, Cunningham," Howard snapped his fingers, "you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm listening." Actually, Randy hadn't been listening. In fact, he'd been lost in his thoughts up until Howard snapped his fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention. It felt weird thinking about Debbie of all people, but she seemed to be the only thing occupying his thoughts as of late. For as long as he's known her he's found to her to be snooty and just impossible to be around, but now that he's been forced to work with her Randy suddenly wanted to get to know her. She wasn't as cold as he originally thought, and her genuine concern for him seemed almost imaginary.

There was plenty more to Debbie than his first impression led him to believe, and for some reason he wanted to learn. He wanted to know her likes, dislikes, what made her laugh; he just wanted to know her. It was so bizarre.

"What?"

"What?"

Randy turned his attention back to Howard, who'd been glaring and tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. It wasn't his intention to ignore his friend, but he found that thinking about anything, even Debbie, was a much better alternative than listening to another one of Howard's repulsive booger stories.

"Why are you spacing out on me, man?" Howard asked bitterly. "You've completely ignored everything I've said!"

"I'm not spacing out!" Randy argued. "I just…" He paused, unable to think of an excuse. There was no way he could tell him exactly what—or rather who—he was thinking about; knowing Howard it would only irritate him more. With a sigh, Randy decided to give up and revert his attention back to his lunch. There was no point in arguing with Howard.

"All I'm saying is that you've really been out of it for the past week," Howard said, shoving some tater tots in his mouth. "Spending all that time with Debbie Kang must be getting to you or something."

That was spot on, actually. Being around Debbie was getting to him, but probably not in the way Howard was thinking. She was taking over his thoughts, incredibly hard to ignore. Since they were lab partners Randy was going to be seeing a lot more of her, too. Maybe if he did some convincing to Mrs. Locklear…

No, it would never work. Mrs. Locklear was tough and hard headed; she'd never change her mind once it was made up. Randy was stuck working with Debbie for the biology project, stuck thinking about her for god knows how long.

I must have pissed her off somehow. Seeing as how it was impossible to put her out of his mind, Randy decided that he'd talk to her after lunch. He couldn't understand the distance she'd suddenly put between them, and as crazy as it sounded he knew he'd regret it if he didn't ask her about it. Their entire relationship was crazy, actually, and it seemed he was just going to have to accept it. It was obvious at this point that whatever it was that was going on between them, Randy didn't want it to end.

When the last bell rang, Randy worked his way past students and teachers in search of Debbie. He hoped to catch her before he went home, wanting to clear things up between them as quickly as possible. She wasn't at her locker and he couldn't find her near the entrance of the school. The only other places he could think of to look were the library and the newspaper room, though the latter seemed more promising.

Randy made his way up the main hall staircase and down the English hallway. The newspaper room was the last door on the left, and as he peered in through the window he did indeed find Debbie typing away at her computer.

"Debbie," he called, pushing the door open.

Debbie let out a small noise, a squeak almost, before quickly closing her laptop. Whatever she'd been typing she obviously didn't want him to see it. This only made him curious, but he decided to push the thought aside for the time being. After all, he was here for a reason. "Got a sec?" Randy asked. "I want to talk to you."

Debbie avoided eye contact, twirling the ends of her hair. She'd been hard at work on a story it seems, and though Randy felt a little guilty for disrupting her, he knew talking to her couldn't wait. The guilt would pass.

"I, uh, I'm a little busy," Debbie explained, taking her computer and shoving it into her bag. "Maybe later."

"There won't be a later," Randy argued. Truth be told he probably shouldn't be so pushy, but when he started thinking about it he didn't know where she lived or even have her phone number; he couldn't call or text her and he couldn't even drop by her house. There was an itching need for an explanation for her behavior, and he wasn't going to let her leave until he got one.

"What's up with you?"

Debbie turned toward him, though her eyes continued to wander. "What do you mean?" she asked. Randy wasn't sure, but she sounded nervous about something.

"You've been ignoring me all day." Randy tried leaning over to get a better look at her, but no matter where he looked she continued to avoid eye contact. "Did I… Did I do something to piss you off?"

There was some kind of tension between them, one that probably wouldn't leave until Debbie offered some kind of response. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it when she couldn't think of anything to say.

Randy sighed, growing impatient. He knew there was no way he could force her to talk; hell, it'd probably only end up with her shoving a pen in his throat. Honestly, why did he care so much? It wasn't like it was new for her to blow him off, but with how close they've grown the past week or so—for lack of a better term—Randy couldn't escape it nagging at him in the back of his mind.

"I'm just tired," Debbie finally admitted, though she didn't sound very convincing. "I didn't sleep very well last night. That's all."

"Are you sick?" Randy asked, putting a hand on her forehead. She didn't feel warm, but it was hard to form an opinion when she started swatting his hand away. "You should go home and lie down if you're not feeling well."

"Who are you, my doctor?" Debbie's tone grew unreasonably harsh. "It's none of your business, anyway. So how about you just go and do dumb boy stuff with Howard and leave me be."

Debbie's cold tone made his blood boil, and Randy couldn't help but glare at her. He honestly couldn't recall doing anything to upset her, which only made the sudden hostility more frustrating. "What's your problem?" he asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. "Why are you turning this into a fight?"

"You're my problem," Debbie spat back. "If someone's ignoring you, shouldn't it be obvious that they're not in the mood to put up with you? Get a clue, Cunningham."

Randy fell silent. For whatever reason her words hit home harder than they should have, and he knew that if he retorted he'd end up saying something he'd regret later. Instead he heaved a heavy sigh and turned on his heel, leaving her in the room alone. There was no point in gracing her with a response; there was no point in making the situation worse, though he had no idea how it had come to this.

As he walked down the hall, trying hard to resist punching the wall, Randy tried to think back to what he'd said in hopes of finding an explanation for what had just happened. All he did was ask her why she'd been so distant. It was Debbie who suddenly turned the situation around. He was her problem? This wasn't necessarily a shock, but why? What did he do to upset her? That's what angered him. Not to mention the way she had worded it really offended him.

Arguing with her felt different than usual, as well. It never used to matter when they would bicker; they weren't friend by any stretch of the imagination. Now that they were starting to get along, as crazy as it sounded, fighting just didn't sit right with him. It wasn't quite like arguing with Howard, but there was definitely something about that made him sick to his stomach. Was he the only one who felt that way? Did Debbie feel the same way about him that she always had? Did nothing change between them?

The more Randy thought about it the more he realized just how much he's analyzed their relationship. It's gotten to the point where he was kind of hoping they could be friends. It felt weird to admit but he was genuinely starting to like her, and the fact that he was still the thorn in her side seemed to dishearten him.

Dammit, he thought to himself. Why do I suddenly feel like slamming my head in a door?

Debbie felt absolutely awful the entire walk home. Her mouth tasted as if she had just swallowed something rotten, and there was an incredible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why did she lie? She didn't have a problem with Randy; not really, anyway. All she wanted to do was avoid him. Strange feelings were stirring because of him and a small part in the back of her mind wanted to drop him as a suspect because of it.

Of course she couldn't tell him that. It sounded ridiculous! That's why she lied, and it made her feel terrible. Debbie wasn't sure what it was, but there was something in those deep blue eyes of his that made her believe she had touched upon a tender subject with him. She didn't know how, but the way he'd fallen silent and didn't bother retaliating simply didn't feel right.

When she got home, Debbie didn't bother responding to her older brother who'd asked her how her day was. All she wanted to do was go to her room and curl up under her blankets. Actually, what she really wanted to do was find Randy and apologize. She couldn't call or text him; she didn't know his number. She couldn't walk over to his house; she didn't know where he lived. There was always the option of calling the hospital and asking to talk to his mother, but that would only feel weird.

There was nothing she could do except wait and hopefully talk to and straighten things out with him tomorrow—if he wasn't too pissed at her, that is.