"I'm a genius," I giddily informed Laura that night back in our room after one of the most enjoyable dinners of my life. Not only did they serve ice cream for the first time in months, it was the most amazingly awkward dinner I've ever experienced. I could barely eat from laughing so hard the entire time.

"Not as genius as this!" she boasted proudly from her bed, clutching her laptop to her chest like her most prized possession. Which, to be truly honest, it probably was. "I encrypted my diary with M16 level protection, and, for extra security, I wrote it in a completely new language of my own invention! Hack into it now!" She flipped over onto her stomach and started typing at the speed of light. "The only drawback is that it's a total pain in the arse to get into now."

"I'm so proud of you," I answered dryly. "Now come onn, I want to gloat about my achievements! SENIOR BOYS WATER POLO!" I proceeded to accept the tradition of happy, in-love teenage girls everywhere and dance around our room in the jumpiest, spazziest manner I could concoct. It was quite a throw-back; I hadn't done this since the days of boyfriend number eighteen. He was the one I shared "a special connection" with; y'know, until I found him Frenching my best friend in the locker rooms. I was so upset I robbed the Louvre. That was depressing, for sure, but nothing could dampen my mood now as I continued to leap about with the successes of flirtatiousness.

Laura collapsed into laughter. "Alright, point acknowledged. Can I even mention how excited I am to see this? Wing. And water polo, thou most heavenly of sports…" she sighed.

"Hey…hey, back off!" I commanded, jumping onto the bed next to her, almost kicking her in the face as I flopped backward. "He's mine!" For a moment, there was silence. I realized suddenly that although I had probably been blatantly obvious to everyone except the suspect himself, it was the first time I had ever admitted my…feelings…for Wing. Officially. Out loud. To another human being.

"SO YOU ADMIT IT!" Laura's sudden shout of gleeful smugness startled my Wraith instincts so much that I really did kick Laura in the face.

Laura gave a startled cry of "AUGHHHowwwwwdamnyoushelby" and fell backward clutching her nose.

"Oh shit!" I managed to gasp out. The impact of my striped sock against her nose had caused it to bleed very impressively; the whole lower half of her face was drenched in scarlet the same colour as her hair. I would be quite pleased with my self-defence skills if I hadn't just probably broken my best friend's nose. Through my frantic attempts to remove her hands from her face and try to find something to stop the blood, I fought the bizarre and sick desire to laugh.

At last locating some tissues, I shoved them up against her face. "PINCH!" I instructed her loudly, flinging my arms in strange ways in my rage of guilt and panic. It's one thing to be calm in a crisis when your friends are hurt; quite another to be calm when your friends are seriously injured because of you.

Underneath her mass of Kleenex, Laura began making a strange sound. Her shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. "OH MY GOD! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" I worried in hysterical screams. "CAN YOU NOT BREATHE OR SOMETHING? OH MY GOD, I'VE JUST KILLED LAURA BRAND!"

Then I realized that she was laughing.

"Shel," she said in the tones of one whose nose is bleeding a lot, and most likely broken, by you, but by some token of total pain-induced insanity still loves you "I am the best friend you will ever have. Because although you have severely injured my face, and I am quite angry and in pain and I think kind of delirious, I will still help you achieve the man of your dreams."

"Wh-what? You're going to…help me get together with Wing?" I asked, my brain moving slowly in this chaotic turn of events.

"Aye! Blame the delirium. But you owe me your dessert. Every day, for the next billion years. Also, you need this." Laura motioned me closer. It struck me as the gesture someone with a magical secret makes on their deathbed. Normally I would make a sarcastic comment about that, but it hardly seemed the time, so I leaned in.

And sweet Laura Brand, my best friend in the whole world, pushed me off the bed with the force I didn't know she possessed. In slow motion I fell, hitting my head against the night table so hard I groaned, and the whole left side of my face felt warm…and wet.

"Oh my God," I said, watching Laura's bloody face fall into shock.

"SHOOT!" Laura screamed, searching desperately for something to stop the blood from my head that she had caused by suddenly developing the force of

She-Hulk.

"I'm very impressed by your ability to abstain from strong swearing considering the events of the last ten minutes," I mention.

Laura's hand hitched on to the first absorbent surface she finds, leaving a trail of drenched tissues behind her. Unfortunately, the thing she gave me to stop the bleeding was one of my bras that I left lying on the floor. An embarrassingly lacy one.

Ignoring my protests, she stuck the undergarment to my face. "Pressure," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, most likely due to a combination of guilt, hysterics, and pain.

"We might as well complete the role reversal now. I promise to help you get Otto if you promise to help me get Wing," I sighed, although I did enjoy the mix of ecstasy and suspicion that crossed her wounded features. "Here, we'll pinky-swear on it," I pause to switch my bra-ndage from my right hand to my left hand, then offered out my pinky finger.

"Alright," Laura agreed, beginning to laugh again. I couldn't help but join in, for the sheer absurdity, chaos, and scariness of the circumstances we'd just had. Plus, we'd both lost quite a bit of blood.

At that most inconvenient of times, Wing and Otto themselves appeared in our doorway. "Hey, girls, we were wondering if you wanted to study for…the…oh my God." Otto trailed off, and Wing looked distinctly startled as his eyes roamed over the scene:

Laura and I sprawled on the floor, laughing raucously and uncontrollably, our heads and faces both covered in blood. Laura sitting amongst a pile of Kleenex, me clutching a saucy bra to my face, our pinkies linked in that most bonding of promises.

"Perhaps…we should go to the…hospital," Laura managed to choke out through bursts of laughter.

"Let's," I agreed. We linked arms and walked out of there with dignity, that mark of truest sisterhood.

Okay, nix the dignity. But it was full of sisterhood. And Otto's face was the most hilarious thing I'd ever seen.

Begin Operation Obtuse Males.