Wow, I'm surprised at the response this story got. I never figured out how to delete it. I know now, but if you want it to stay, that's fine.

I figured if you guys liked it so much, you deserved another chapter. Her ya go! Enjoy.

Oh, and thanks for pointing out that the events were on different days. I hadn't noticed.

Though he hated to admit it, Patrick thought more about his problem with Kat than he should have. He chalked it up to the extreme boredom of school life. What else was there to do if not bother some chick? It was as good as anything, he supposed.

He'd come up with a reason for failing to get her out on a date; she wouldn't want to accept a proposal from a guy like him at school, would she? Too many people watching. He'd just have to try a different tactic, get her on her own.

The day after she rejected him on the soccer field, Patrick kept an eye out for her throughout the day. During lunch he heard her mention to her friend that she was going to buy the newest album or some band or other after class. Luckily for him, the only record store around kept the guess work out of where he should look for her.

It was easy enough to find her car; red wasn't exactly a subtle color. Plus the thing looked older than he was. Not that he had anything against old cars. He drove one, after all. The record store didn't look busy when he arrived. It wasn't that good, if he recalled. Hands buried in his pockets, he sauntered up to Kat's car and leaned back against it, checking out the fenders out as he did so. Classic. Not bad.

He heard the shop door open and the rustle of a plastic shopping bag. Show time.

Not looking up, he said loudly, "Nice ride. Vintage fenders." He turned and gave her a nod of appreciation, giving two thumbs up. Well, mostly. He didn't need to expend that much effort on her.

Her eyebrows rose when she caught sight of him. Suspicion crossed her face. "Are you following me?" she asked.

Patrick frowned at her, looking offended. "I was in the Laundromat," he said, waving a hand at the place across the street, "I saw your car. I came over to say hi."

Rolling her eyes, Kat muttered a mock "Hi" and strode past him toward the front door of her car.

Patrick's jaw slid to the side as it did when he was perplexed. It seemed he'd have to step it up a notch.

He slid over and leaned against the car door, ending up face to face with Kat. "Not a big talking, huh?" he said, making eye contact with her. Chicks loved that crap. They thought it made connections or something.

Kat looked at him for a moment before responding. "Depends on the topic," she said, "my fenders don't really whip me into a verbal frenzy." She made a mocking motion with her hands as she spoke. It was obviously meant to irritate him. Neophyte. She'd have to do better than that.

Slightly intrigued that she hadn't yet run away, Patrick peered closer at her. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?" Kat questioned, like being afraid of him had never occurred to her.

That was interesting. Her bravado wasn't a front.

He leaned in, his voice lowered. "Well, most people are," he said confidentially.

In the same tone, she responded, "Well, I'm not."

"Well, maybe you're not afraid of me, but I'm sure you've thought about me naked," Patrick said, caught up in the game. He grinned and winked at her.

Her mouth opened in mock surprise. "Am I that transparent?" she said, "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby." She finished with another of her expert eye rolls.

Patrick nodded absently as he turned away from her. Even his stunningly rugged good looks had failed him. This chick was a brick wall. He could appreciate that. But really, to mock him so openly?

Kat pushed past him and opened her car door, whacking him with it, acting as though he was not there. Irritated, Patrick gave a last glance backward and walked away, raising his hands in defeat. Whatever. Fine by him.

Before he could get away, the sound of generic hip hop music pulled into the parking lot along with Joey and his shiny fire engine red car. Patrick paused, looking back. Joey pulled right up behind Kat's old junker, parked, and got out of the car. Anticipating entertainment, Patrick turned back to watch the fireworks.

"Uh," Kat groaned when she noticed Joey, "What is it? Asshole day?" Then, leaning out her window, "Do you mind?" she shouted as Joey passed.

The idiot flipped his keys in his hand and swaggered toward the store. "Not at all."

Fire flickered in Kat's eyes as she glared after Joey. Patrick took a step back subconsciously.

Revving her engine, Kat faced the back seat and floored the gas pedal. She shot back into Joey's car, a screeching crash echoing off the store fronts as the pretty new car was maimed. Unable to keep away, Patrick jogged back over to get a closer look, grinning.

"You bitch!" Joey shrieked.

Patrick laughed outright at Joey's distress and Kat's inventiveness.

Pouting at Joey as he raced to his car, Kat called out, "Whoops."

Laughing, Patrick wandered away from the sight to avoid the police. If he'd known following Kat around would be so amusing, he would have done it sooner.

XXXXX

Patrick was still on a natural high from the previous day's activities. He'd told Scruvy about it, who hadn't appreciated the joke nearly as much as he should have. Joey got his car totaled; what was funnier than that?

When the bell for Math finally rang, Patrick was the first one out the door and down the hall. He pulled his locker door open and began to shove his books and notepads inside, along with his two-headed rubber snake that he'd been using to terrorize Mr. Philips. The man was scared of snakes; who was Patrick to ignore that?

Once finished, he slammed his locker door shut, thoughts drifting to his latest shop project. It would take some time, he knew but what else was there to do around town? He was seriously considering quitting Joey's little job. He didn't need Kat's attitude, he told himself. Besides, being ordered around by a punk like Joey wasn't something he liked.

Turning to leave, Patrick was faced with none other than Joey what's-it. The poor bugger didn't look pleased. That was slightly funny, but not funny enough for him not to be perturbed at Joey checking up on him.

"When I shell out 50, I expect results," Joey said.

"Yeah, I'm on it," Patrick said disinterestedly, leaning back against his locker.

"Watching that bitch violate my car doesn't count as a date," Joey snapped.

Patrick flipped a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth, glancing back at the agitated Joey. He locked eyes with him, daring the guy to try that authority crap.

"Now, if you don't get any, I don't get any," Joey said, talking as if to a small child.

What a loser. About to tell the guy just where he could shove his money, Patrick glanced away again, ideas slipping unbidden into his mind. Hunting Kat was pretty entertaining… why not do it for a bit longer? It was either that or listen to Scruvy talk in detail about how the president was really from the deep ocean. Plus, Joey wasn't short on cash. That meant new rims for his truck.

"So get some," Joey concluded, patting Patrick on the shoulder. With an arrogant nod, he backed away and strutted down the hall.

Apparently he really wanted a date with that Bianca chick. What the hell was so great about her? Seeing his opening, Patrick called after Joey, "I just upped my price." To his satisfaction, Joey halted mid step.

"What?" he demanded, swinging around.

Raising his eyebrows, Patrick nodded, switching the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "Hundred bucks a date," he elaborated, "in advance."

Joey scoffed. "Forget it." He turned to leave.

"Well, forget her sister then," Patrick said. No other guy would have the balls to go after Kat, that he knew. Patrick grinned winningly at Joey.

Exhaling as if it was a great chore, Joey walked back to Patrick, his hand on his wallet as he did so. Patrick glanced down the hall, wary of any sign of a teacher. It was school policy to check up on him if any faculty member noticed him talking to someone else. "With Verona, something's always up," they said. True, true.

"You'd better hope you're as smooth as you think you are, Verona," Joey muttered as he pulled out the money.

Patrick grabbed the bill from him and grinned again in answer. No problem.

XXXXX

In shop class, Patrick forgot every bad thing and good thing that had ever happened to him. It was him, the metal, and the fire. That was how he liked it, and when he was bothered, he didn't appreciate it.

"We know what you're trying to do with Kat Stratford," said an annoying voice off to Patrick's right.

He allowed a glance at the guy. Geez, it was that scrappy new guy and his sidekick again. What was with him? Hadn't Patrick's last warning been enough? Did he need to brand the kid's ass, too? Deciding that was too much effot, Patrick went back to the metal bar he was heating up. "Is that right," he said above the noise of the fire, "What do you plan to do about it?"

"Help you out," the kid said quickly.

"Why's that?" he asked, interested despite himself. Damn, was the tip of the bar getting over heated? Checking, Patrick found that no, it was fine. He returned the bar to the flame.

"Th-the situation is," the sidekick stammered, "my man Cameron here has a major jones for Bianca Stratford."

Chuckling, Patrick glanced back at the pair. "What is it with this chick? She have beer flavored nipples?"

"Hey!" the kid, Cameron, growled at Patrick's back.

Ignoring him, Patrick walked over to the water bucket to cool the metal.

"I-I, uh… I think I speak correctly… when I say that Cameron's love is pure, purer than say, Joey Donner's."

Ah, that was the idiot's name. Donner. Patrick turned to face the two of them. They weren't going to leave him alone. "I'm in this for the cash. Donner can plow whoever he wants," Patrick said. He grabbed his project plans and began to scribble notes, hoping the kids would get the hint and bugger off.

"Okay, there will be no plowing," Cameron said threateningly, leaning toward Patrick.

Funny, the kid was defending the chick's honor.

"Patrick, uh… Pat," the other one said.

Patrick strolled away from them, his mind still mostly on his work. He needed to check some angles for the bottom of his project. Grabbing his protractor off his work lectern, Patrick listened with a passive ear.

"We," the other one continued, "set this whole thing up so Cameron can get the girl. Cameron. Joey's just a pawn."

Someone using Joey? Patrick's attention shifted to the pair, amused. A smile pulled at his mouth when he saw how serious they were. "So you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?" he asked dubiously.

"Absolutely," the other one said.

"Hmm," Patrick said, looking back at his designs.

"We'll do some research, find out what she likes. We're your guys," the sidekick said, enthusiastically flinging his arm around his friend.

Cameron grimaced at him. "And-and he means that in a strictly non-prison movie type of way." He pushed his friend off of him.

Patrick just stared at them. The kid was kind of funny. Prison. Hilarious. He'd heard the rumors floating around about his alleged jail time.

"Uh, let's start here," the other one said, pulling out a flier, "Now, Friday night, Bogey Lowenstein is having a party. It's the perfect opportunity for you."

Patrick wrinkled his nose. That freaky kid with the monster dimples? Why the hell would he go there? "The perfect opportunity for what?" he asked.

"For you to take out Kat."

"Huh. I'll think about it," Patrick said. Grabbing his design, he walked away, not thinking about Kat. That could wait.

XXXXX

His pool stick shot forward. The pool balls cracked together and flew off in different directions. Three in, not bad. Patrick rolled his shoulders to relax them. Finally he was alone. No chicks, no idiots, no brats. Just beer, pool, and some smokes.

Speaking of which… Patrick pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag, letting the smoke leak from his mouth. He was supposed to meet Cameron and his sidekick soon. Not much time before they got there. He leaned down to take another shot.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cameron and, as he had figured out, his friend Bernard strolling toward him. His interest piqued a bit when he thought about learning more about Kat. The only things he knew were that she had a sister, apparently liked music, and she hated Joey Donner.

That last one was a waste of effort, to his line of thinking. Once again a thought tickled the back of his mind; more was going on with Joey and Kat that met the eye. Two people like that didn't go at each other's throats so viciously for no reason. Kat would have ignored him otherwise, he was sure.

"So, what have you got for me?" Patrick asked, straightening to face the sophomores.

"A little insight into a very complicated girl," Cameron said.

Leaning back against the table, Patrick grabbed his beer and took a swallow.

"Excuse me, uh, just one question before we start," Bernard said.

Patrick looked at him expectantly.

"Should you be drinking alcohol when you don't have a liver?"

Squinting at him, Patrick wondered if he'd heard right. "What?" What about a liver?

"Nothing, nothing." Bernard backtracked.

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Patrick felt irritated. If they showed up just to waste his time, things wouldn't turn out pleasantly.

"All right, first thing," Cameron said, getting to business, "Kat hates smokers." He pointed to Patrick's cigarette and plucked it from his fingers. Dropping it, Cameron put it out with his foot.

Patrick let him take it, wondering why the hell he'd agreed to this. "So you're telling me I'm a… non-smoker," he said with distaste.

"Yes. Well, just for now," Bernard amended.

"And, um, and here's another problem. Bianca said that Kat likes pretty guys," Cameron said.

Patrick faced them squarely. They stared at him.

"Are you telling me I'm not a pretty guy?" he demanded, rising from his seat on the table. They both spoke at once.

"He's very pretty," Bernard said quickly, "He's a gorgeous guy!"

"Yeah, I just wasn't sure. I didn't know," Cameron said, shrugging apologetically.

Still eying them, Patrick settled back onto the table.

"Alright, uh, yeah, okay. Here's this," Cameron babbled, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. He cleared his throat. "Likes: Thai food, feminist prose, angry girl music of the Indie Rock persuasion," he read off. "Here's a list of CDs she has in her room."

Patrick listened closely, committing the list to memory. Just great.

He took the list from Cameron, glancing over it. "So I'm supposed to buy her some noodles and a book and sit around listening to chicks who can't play their instruments, right?" he said, smiling cheerlessly. The game just took a sharp turn and was headed toward boring.

"Have you ever been to Club Skunk?" Bernard asked.

"Her favorite band's playing there tomorrow night," Cameron supplied.

The smile faded from Patrick's face. His brain burned from memories of that place. It was the worst month of his life when he'd worked there. He got more dirty looks there than down town near the druggies. The pay was crap and the atmosphere was worse. If hell was real, Patrick was convinced that place was what it would be like.

Patrick shook his head vigorously, trying to stay cool. "I can't be seen as Club Skunk, alright?" And without his smokes. Crap.

"But she'll be there," Cameron pushed, "She's got tickets."

"Assail your ears for one night," Bernard added.

Patrick exhaled through his nose. He couldn't go back there. The thought sent shivers down his spine. This chick wasn't worth it.

"She has a pair of black underwear," Cameron said, "if that helps."

His attention returned to the kid.

"Couldn't hurt, right?" Bernard said, trying to laugh. He whacked Patrick on the shoulder.

Yeah, sure.