Summary: What do you get when you mix 1) a guy you know you can't fall for; but do, 2) a girl who's after everything you want, and 3) the complications of being a dancing teen? Renee learns the answer when she's accepted into the American Academy of Dance!

Note from the author: Aww! I love you guys so much that I'm hugging the computer screen and attracting fairly odd looks from passersby! Yip yip. I'm so happy because Everwood is on tonight. The best friggin' show in the world, you heard me, gang-sta? Wow, I need to brush up on my ghetto.

REVIEW if your heart is so kind and stuff like that.

Disclaimer: All the ideas, characters, plot, etc., in this story belong to me unless otherwise noted. Infringement of anyone's copyright is unintentional.

Waltz of the Wasps
by Nickety

Chapter Four: Hell Gets Hotter in Dorm 274
If I had to use an expression to describe the scene in my dorm, I would say that, "Hell froze over," but I never really got what that meant. I mean, does that mean it got really cold in there or something? Don't make a lick of sense.

Anyways, I came in, all giddy from my little party thing, and Chantel and Kyle were standing by the television, yelling at each other. I 'assessed the scene' and took notes in my head. (1) Chantel's clothes were still all over the couch and on the floor, (2) the remote was on the floor, its batteries dislodged, as if someone had thrown it down and (3) the uproar of noise, spit flying across the room.

Conclusion: they were fighting.

" - so sick of your nagging," Chantel was saying, using her finger to poke him in the chest. "Why can't you just get off my back?"

Kyle took a while to answer. Apparently, he's not the type of guy who thinks up good responses right when they are needed - though he doesn't back down, either, so he always does have some type of answer, stupid or not.

"Because you're like mud! Slowing down our productivity!"

"That's the most stupid figure of speech I've ever heard of."

"So? I'm getting a point across!"

"Productivity? What's your point, that we're machines, or something? Retard."

"Don't call me a retard, and stop getting off the point! The point is that you have problems - okay? I'm the one trying to fix them, and you won't even listen!"

"You want a point? Here's a point: get a fucking life and stop telling me how I run mine!"


[Remember what I told you before about Kyle and Chantel not getting together well? That was just the tip of the iceberg, pardon the cliche. We've been at AAD for a week, and that's hardly enough time for anybody to start hating anyone else. But Chantel and Kyle - they were a different story. The main problem was that Kyle is a super neat-freak (as I said before) and he's always getting on Chantel's case, because Chantel, unfortunately, is very messy.

I think the bigger quarrels started on the fourth day, when Kyle was telling Chantel to put away her stuff because it was all over the floor. Basically:

Kyle: Put away your stuff.
Chantel (reading a book): No.
Kyle: It's all over the floor and in my way.
Chantel (still reading a book): So?
Kyle (gets red): Put away your stuff.
Chantel (rolls eyes): You do it.
Kyle: It's like cow poop. Making this place a mess.
Chantel: Your figure of speech sucks.
Kyle: But I'm spending the next two years with you.
Chantel (shrugs, still reading): So?
Kyle: And I just met you ...
Chantel: Irrelevant.
Kyle: ... so just clean it up and stop fighting with me.
Chantel: (no answer)

[big pause]

Kyle: Let's forget about this and start over.
Chantel (pretends to think about it): No.
Kyle: (tries to think up a good response)
Kyle: (finds one)
Kyle: I'm just trying to be reasonable.
Chantel: It's nice that you tried, but you still suck.

I take back what I said about Kyle being a donkey. Chantel is the donkey. Stubborn. And always with a really good response. So really, unless you're a friend of hers, or you're just as sarcastic/witty - do not fight with her.

Kyle doesn't stand a chance in a mouth-off.]

Anyhow ... they started to shove each other, yelling even louder still, so I decided it was time to cut in - something I don't usually do unless I'm feeling particularly nasty. "You guys, quit it!"

To my surprise, they listened - though Chantel was glaring at Kyle while he stared dutifully at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to be one of those Conflict Mediators they have in elementary schools (though if truth be told, they don't ever help the situation any).

I took a deep breath. "Okay, I really don't know why you guys are always fighting - "

"She's the one who threw the remote at me - "

"It's him! I only did that because Mr. Jackass over here - "

"Did you just called me a J-A-C-K butt - "

"Jackass, stupid - "

I snapped. "You guys, I said to cut it."

They cut it. I continued, getting more than a little annoyed, "You guys are pissing me off. And I am never pissed off. In fact, that was the first time I've ever snapped at anyone. I am a happy, passive, nonviolent person who rarely responds to radical behavior."

That attracted odd stares.

I coughed. "Now." I started pacing up and down, really getting into this. "You hardly know each other. Yet you tear at each others' throats about lame things. There is something wrong here."

"She's the immature one who doesn't care about - "

"He's the one who thinks he's my mother - "

"AND," I said loudly, "not only that, you made a happy, passive nonviolent person - me - mad. Now that, my friends, is a little thing I like to call, 'what-was-once-impossible', because obviously it's not impossible if it's been done but, it used to be - "

At that point, Chantel decided to interrupt me. Very smart of her, as I tend to ramble about random things when I'm mad enough. "Renee. Shut up."

I shut up automatically.

"You're a nice person from what I've gathered so far," she continued, her eyes narrowing as they went back onto Kyle. "I consider you my first friend here and a very good friend. But seriously? Back off. I am taking down Momma-Boy on my own terms."

"Momma-Boy? Excuse me?"

"What, did your stupid similies clog up your ears? Yeah, I called you Momma-Boy, and you better get used to it - "

I sighed. I guess I'd have to get used to it, too.

Putting my hands over my ears to block them out, I took the dorm phone from its place by the couch (dodging the magazine that flew by) and tugged it along as I made my way to my bed. I fell back on the mattress, bouncing slightly. I punched in Terrence's number and put the phone to my ear.

Someone picked up the phone immediately. A voice answered, attempting to sound like a women and failing - it was rather like a really bad cross between a male and a dying bird. "House of Mustah, secretary speaking."

"It's Renee ... Terrence?"

There was a pause on the other end. "No ..."

I sighed and started twirling the cord of the phone. "Hi, Terr."

"Damn it. Didn't I sound at least a little bit like a hot 20-year old woman in a tight suit?"

"Actually, not really. More like - um - a 40-year old man in his pin-striped pajamas on the verge of womanhood." I applauded myself for my comeback. "What's with that? 'House of Mustah'? Secretary speaking? What's up?"

"Was that an insult?"


"Wow, my ickle Renee is all grown up." Then, he lowered his voice. "I'm trying to give Mustah a better image, if you know what I mean."

I did the Renee-shrug. "Well ... not really."

He snorted and imitated Ursula in The Little Mermaid. "You poor unfortunate soul. Basically, some dude came to one of our gigs at the Tomaton Potaton and he offered us a record deal, or at least a performance as an opener for one of those really big bands. We said we'd think about it and we gave him our number - my number. So yeah. From now on, I'm" - he tried to sound sexy and female again - "Katie Bigalow, secretary at the House of Mustah."

I couldn't believe it.

"But Terr!"


Normally, I wouldn't say anything, but I was feeling negative at the moment - probably feeding off of Chantel and Kyle, who were still yelling and stuff. "I thought you were against being famous and everything - the 'underground rock' world is your road, remember? Are you trying to go against all you stand for or something?"

He sounded embarrassed. "Come on, Ren ... you of all people wouldn't lecture moi. What's up with you? I need the moola, okay? For college - and stuff."


A silence came between us.

"So," Terrence said, back to his normal self, "why're you calling so late, Ren? Got the urge to have phone sex? I have to admit, I'm rather poetic."

Some people never change.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I want to talk to Daniel."

He hesitated. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetums, but Daniel isn't here."

I felt my mouth drop open. "Whoa, whoa, whoa - rewind, and freeze!" I sounded like a scene from The Princess Diaries. "It's Saturday night, and Daniel isn't there? What else has changed? I've only been gone for a week! What happened to the Saturday night sleepovers?"

Terrence took a while to answer. "Well - it was just today - he had something special to do. Yeah. Something special."

Now, that wasn't suspicious.

"Well," I said, "I'm going to call him and ask what's going on. Have fun with your perverted fantasies, my twisted friend."

"No need to tell me. I do it every night. Bye."


I hung up and laid on my back for a while. I put my finger on the '7' ... but dropped it. I didn't feel like talking to Daniel anymore, for some reason. Then I noticed that Kyle and Chantel had stopped fighting. I sat up, looking around.

Kyle was on his bed, stomach to the mattress, face in his pillow. Chantel was still by the television, and she had it on loud. I mean it. Loud. If I were deaf and as smart as Beethoven, I could've guessed what Gary the Mewing Snail was saying by reading the vibrations shaking my bed.

"Turn down the telly, will ya?" Kyle roared, tearing his face from the pillow and looking furious.

Understandably, Chantel said, "Bite me, Momma-boy."

I mean, really. How can you take a person seriously if he says stupid things like, "Telly", "What in tarnation", and "You're like mud"?

Note from the author: I do not own Ursula, the Little Mermaid, the Princess Diaries, Gary the snail (from Spongebob) or Beethoven.

Sorry it was so short! *checks its length with Microsoft Word* Holy whack-a-moley. It's not even 2000 words. Disgraceful! On a happier note, this is where Chantel's point of view will start to kick in. :) Not in this chappie, though. Later. I like her character. Very fun to write about. :)

Until next time, muchachos/muchachas!