Summary: Tagteam w/ Maritinkerbell. Who is really cool. So you should check out her profile and review some fics(ok, now you know I'm high when I start referring to myself in third person). Anyway…the real summary…um, Jessie? What happens? Oh right. So there's this ghost, oh and Suze and Jesse. And its after Twilight. BTW, men who cook are sexy. Sorry… and Suze is failing math, so she gets this tutor. Jesse's understandably not happy about this. Oh and there's a ghost. Who has a daughter. Oh, and the tutor's a guy. In case you couldn't figure that out for yourself. The ghost is a girl so Suze isn't happy either. Switching narration.
Lol. Hahaha. Can you believe that Mariekey wanted to cut that out? It's simply too cute not to share with everyone else, don't you think? Switching narration…who would've thunk it?
Awww, hunny…I love you.
Anyways, so me and Marieke have been waiting to do this sort of thing for quite awhile…ever since our dear friend Ching (Charcoal Hearts, go search her up, she writes real good) suggested that we do a fanficky together, since Marieke writes a fabulouso Suze, and I write an "excellent" Jesse. (Cough, cough, …ahem.)
So we thought and thought and one day in Borders, Becky dear mentioned Tupperware Man (the guy she's currently stalking). And we thought….hmm… what a nice name. Tupperware.
And as a result…we, the people of the Borders at Stonestown; sit-in-the-aisle-on-Fridays-and-yell-random-things-while-complaining-about-our-math-teachers-club proudly present… a little fanfic that we dedicate to our club members Becky and Ching…something that I happened to slave over for all of today—with constant interferance from my parents, "Why aren't you playing piano, Jessie?" "Why aren't you dancing ballet, Jessie?" "Is this really homework, Jessie?"—and Mariekey too, of course…inspired by the good people at Borders (except for that meanie, who told us to get off the floor)…and made for the sheer enjoyment of Mediator-obssessed people like us… (deep breath)…(drumrolls)…(lots of clapping)… TUPPERWARE.
Disclaimer: We don't own Jesse, Suze, her mother, any of the steps, or anything else that belongs to Meg Cabot.
Chapter one.
"What's another word for 'devious'?" I called out loud, though not to anyone in particular.
"Your face," My stepbrother Dopey muttered under his breath. I looked at him in disgust. He was playing (if you can call it that) some video game on the living room TV. Apparently 'Cool Boarder' wasn't 'in' anymore. Or maybe Brad was just tired of losing to that one, too.
"What's the context?" David asked me.
"It's an essay I'm writing for Ethnic Lit." On the sofa. While being constantly distracted by sounds of shooting (that would be the game) and the ramblings of obscure science facts that no one cared about (that would be David, aka Doc).
"How about 'excursive'? Or 'scheming'?" Jesse stuck his head in from the kitchen, where he was receiving a cooking lesson from my stepfather Andy.
Yes, you read that right. Cooking lesson.
At one of our weekly Sunday-night dinners (wow, that was redundant), he had mentioned that Andy's food was the best he tasted all week, due to the fact that most of Jesse's meals usually consist of a hamburger and fries from McDonald's—I don't think men were ever taught to cook back in the Wild, Wild West—andAndy had offered to teach him the "fine art of cooking." Jesse accepted, of course—is my boyfriend anything but polite when it comes to my family?—although he was worried that it would be too much trouble for Andy.
That was before I informed him that my stepfather had been trying to find someone to pawn off his cooking skills to since Jake had been old enough to handle a knife. None of us kids were at all interested though, and Mom ruins anything more complicated then ramen noodles.
I'm not even kidding. Once, when we still lived together back in New York, she asked me to boil her an egg. Who can't even boil a frikkin' egg?
That was when I was nine, and well, since that fateful day—I also found out that I'd been living on lean cuisine for the past three years—we just ordered out. That is, until she met Andy, who is like, the equivalent of the Iron Chef.
But back to the present. (a/n: which is kinda weird cuz this story is in past tense.) Jesse was working in the kitchen—looking oh-so-sexy in his checkered apron and chef's hat—which was why I didn't forsake the noisy living room and escape to my bedroom. I wanted to make sure that my steps didn't say anything too embarrassing to him. Besides, I needed to be there if he set anything on fire again. Watching Jesse swear in Spanish at inanimate objects is outrageously funny.
So there I was, sitting peacefully, daydreaming about the movie Jesse was taking me to later that evening (actually, more about my boyfriend then the actual film)…and er, thinking about my essay, when I felt someone tap my shoulder.
"You the mediator?"
(Jesse)
I was still dicing the tomatoes when she first showed up. It was hard to remember exactly what Andy had said to do with them—something about green onions?—so I was merely placing them (very carefully) in the bowl next to the olive oil before he came back and gave me some more directions.
I didn't even feel her presence until she started screaming. But the sound was so sharp and shrill—not unlike Marta's, whenever she found a rat under her bed—that it woke me out of my reverie and made me drop my knife.
It landed, with some force, blade down onto the Ackerman's kitchen tiles, just a few inches away from my left toe (A/n: haha. The Friends thanksgiving episode).
"¡Mierda!" I bent down, quickly pulling it out of the crevice it had fallen into. "Jesse!" Susannah's voice was filled with desperation as it rang throughout the hallway. "Jesse! Get in here! I need—erm, help on my alliterations!"
Moving as quickly as I could, I picked up some spilled tomatoes and let them fall into the trash bin. Then I turned on the faucet to rinse the knife.
"Jesse!"
"I am coming, Susannah."
I found her collapsed on the sofa in the living room, the annoyance she was feeling clearly evident on her face. Her entire body was rigid, as though she were holding in a scream. She sat up, eyes flashing, fixated on the figure in front of her—who somewhat resembled that of a woman a few years older than myself (late twenties, not late hundred and seventies)—and muttered, though it was hard to tell through all the yelling, "Please…just get her out of here."
I shot Susannah a quisical look, then dragged the woman by the elbow towards the stairs. I felt ashamed for being so rough with her, but Susannah's reaction made something in me snap, as though I were the one being offended in some way. It was a horrible handicapp, this weakness I had towards her pleas.
Like something was tugging at me, at her every demand, and I had no choice but to comply, in order to keep the ruffled edges of my sanity.
There were many advantages to courting Susannah, but this was a definite kink.
A/N: Okay, everybody. We did our part. Now it's your turn…Review! (even though I won't get email alerted of your reviews cuz its Jessie's penname. About this: can you forward the email alerts to me, Jessie? Thanks.)
Jesse does say 'kink.' Luke Mably is sexy.
Ciao!