Proud to fight like a GIRL


Fighting evil by moonlight

Winning love by daylight

Never running from a real fight

She is the one named…

"Francine," Harry says loudly, causing me to near fall off the side of his bed in fright, "Francine, I've been trying to get you to grasp the concept of string theory for two hours. The least you could do when you ask an extracurricular question is listen to my answer."

I sit back up from where I was sprawled, most likely snoring my head off – something which isn't attractive at all – on the bed, and find my grey eyes looking into his deep brown ones. I have to swallow to keep my heart from speeding up my oesophagus and onto his Superman mat; that boy has some serious control over my body, not to mention the mind that controls it.

I didn't mean to fall asleep on him, and I'm genuinely interested in what he's talking about. I just didn't understand any of it. It's way too complicated for me in my sleep deprived status. I heard the word 'string' way too many times in his first sentence for my liking and then it only got better with 'charge', 'mass' and 'spin'. It was like he was quoting direct from a textbook.

And here's me sitting here, in his room and lying on his bed. It makes me think about things. It implies certain things. But between us? There's only a student-teacher relationship.

Much to my disappointment.

Because if it wasn't I could be lying in that awfully inviting jeans covered lap, instead of imagining myself spewing my heart out all over his favourite floor mat.

Bringing my hands up to my eyes I rub them, and with a yawn I apologise, "I'm so sorry, Harry, I haven't been getting much sleep lately, you know? I'm just worried about those burglars that got into the neighbour's house the other day."

"The ones that got tied up in the neighbour's garden hose before being reported anonymously to the police?" He wants to know, arching an eyebrow, his tone suggesting he thought he knew something more about it. But how could he, really?

"Yes," I arch an eyebrow right back, "those ones."

"I can imagine," he says meaningfully, crossing his arms over his chest as if waiting for me to say something, to explain. But I don't know what he wants me to explain…nothing to explain…

I'll just say that whoever did that, whoever put their days in the girl guides tying knots to good use, did a good deed and doesn't need to be persecuted for it. If anything I would call it impressive. I would be congratulating them if, you know, I knew who they were.

Which I don't.

I feel a buzz in my pocket and bring out my phone, watching Harry's eyes narrow to slits as I do, "What?"

"It's tutoring time, Francine, put that away," he complains, gesturing at my phone irritably.

"Tutoring time was over three hours ago, Harry," I complain right back, looking down at my message, "and I think I need to go."

"Your mum calling you?" He inquires and I look up, wondering why he's being such a jerk.

"Something like that," I pull my books into a pile next to me and grab my book bag, shoving them in and looking around for my pencil and eraser, "sorry for falling asleep, it just seemed like it'd be a lot more interesting when Sheldon was talking about it."

I pluck them up from where they've been sitting for the entire time on his pillow, me not having bothered to write any notes down. I should probably start doing that if I actually want to learn anything. That is what I'm here for after all.

Dropping them into the book bag, I snap it shut and pull it over my shoulder, patting the bottom of my bag. I can feel my costume underneath the books, safe from Harry's scrutiny.

It'd be really bad if he saw that, he'd already seen the bruise on my cheek the other day. I've been wearing my hair down over it to try and get him to forget, but I can tell he hasn't. He's acting all suspicious, paranoid that I'm acting suspicious, which I kind of am, but…

It's all for the sake of righteousness.

When I look up, straightening, his eyes meet mine again, "I don't think that really counts as studying, Francine. I think you should stay a little longer so we can go over the differences between the film and the book that you're studying, I don't think you've entirely grasped it yet."

"Which is why I'm going to go home and watch it again," I nod enthusiastically, starting to slink slowly over to the door, "prepare myself for our next little study night."

I'm near out of his room when he steps in front of me, spreading out his arms and blocking the door, "No, you can watch it with me and we can go over it together. I can fill you in when you don't understand, point out key themes, character motivations. I can –"

"Do that all tomorrow," I wink, but when I try to move around him he puts his hands down on my shoulders, gently pushing me in the other direction. I blink at him in bemusement, "What are you doing, Harry? Going to be that lonely without me?"

"Where are you going?" He wants to know, crossing his arms over his chest, "Are you going out again? Where are you going at night?"

"Gees," I raise an eyebrow, crossing my own arms over my chest and looking at him innocently, "I'm just a party girl, is all. Go out, dance, drink tequila. I'm all about tequila."

"Yeah right," he rolls his eyes; leaning closer to me and reaching up to graze his fingertips across my cheek – something which doesn't fail to make my heart skip a beat, "why do you have this bruise? Where are you going at nine-thirty on a school night?"

I snort, trying to conceal my laughter and failing if the annoyed look he sends me is any clue. I can't take him seriously when he says something so ridiculous. I mean it isn't as if I'm going out at midnight, or anything. It's nine-thirty and it's daylight savings so it was not so long ago the sun was actually up.

"Aw, thanks, glad to know you worry about me study buddy," I pat him on the shoulder lightly, "but I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself and frankly what I do with my own time is none of your concern."

"Oh, is it now?" He wants to know, flinching. I stop as I'm about to brush past him, curious about the look on his face and shocked by his tone – and the fact that he flinched, why did he flinch? Maybe he does care about me, as in more than a friend. "Do you think it's really none of my business, Francine?"

I look at him, tilting my head in inquiry, "Yes?"

Harry pauses for a moment, blinking, before turning his eyes away from mine. "You know as well as I do that whatever you happen to be doing is affecting your concentration. How am I supposed to teach you anything if you aren't in any state to be learning?"

Of course he doesn't like me; he's here to educate me, not engage in any sort of personal relationship. Even though I at least thought he cared about me a little. Just a little.

"Oh, I'm sure it's so heartbreaking watching my brilliant mind go to waste," I drawl sardonically, reaching behind him for the doorknob and pulling his bedroom door open, "but I'm afraid I have to go now."

"Francine," he says in exasperation, catching my arm as I step around him, "I'm serious, and how do you expect to get good results in your exams when you're so constantly tired? How do you think you'll do if –"

"Is that really what you want to say to me, Harry?" I say to the corridor wall, too embarrassed to ask him face-to-face.

Not that he appears to know what I'm talking about, responding with an eloquent, "What?"

"Never mind," now I'm the exasperated one, and I adjust my shoulder strap and start to walk quickly down the hall, in case he does catch on to my meaning and laughs in my face. God, that'd be the worst.

He doesn't follow me though, and with a wave to his mother on the way out, I walk outside and over behind the giant walnut tree in his front yard. I pull off my jeans to reveal my black tights. I bring his kiss-mark boxers around my hips and pull my bra over the top of my hoodie.

For a final touch I place a black, glittery masquerade mask over my eyes.

"Time to party," I nod, and then looking around to make sure no one's watching I run from behind the tree and down the street.

If only I had bothered to look up, I would have noticed that at least one person had seen me.

And that I'd left my jeans lying in his front yard.


Frankie, Socks is up the tree again.

Okay, so this is one of my more mild adventures…

Only to be truly honest most of my 'adventures' aren't really that exciting. The exciting expeditions are few and far between, the most exciting was with the neighbour's robbers, and they had started this. I had had enough, and decided to do something about it.

So Frankie was born, and the name is blazed across the back of my hoodie in glow in the dark lettering.

Everybody knows who I am. I was even put on the NEWs for the hose thing, at least what the kid across the road caught of me with his dodgy camera phone. I have a facebook page where people can message me if they're in a little bit of trouble.

Apparently they took the word 'little' literally.

"Here kitty," I call up the tree for the second time this week, watching as Socks climbs further up into the tree, which I know for a fact he won't be able to get down from by himself. Stupid cat. "Come on now, stop climbing. It'll make things a little easier on me."

I grab the branch above me and try to haul myself onto it, teetering on the branch below and trying not to wobble over the edge. It's hard, though, I may be strong but I'm definitely not very coordinated. I scowl at the cat who has picked up its paw and begun licking it, its eyes mocking me, "Oh shut up, you stupid cat."

It mews at me in response and starts pacing back and forth on the branch above the one I'm grabbing; if I can just reach it before it decides to climb up some more…

I hear a rustle near me and look over my shoulder, but there's nothing there. Again.

I've been hearing things the entire walk here and it's really starting to creep me out. I mean, if someone's there they could at least show themselves. I can deal with that, but I can't fight something I can't see.

Shaking my head I look back to Socks, tightening my grip on the branch and pulling myself up there quick, wrapping a leg around it and hugging it with my arms. I feel like I'm going to tip over because I'm leaning too far left. Sucking in my breath, I slowly sit up and wiggle around, trying to regain my balance –

When a loud, "Bitch, get down," frightens the crap out of Socks and I, and we both go tumbling out of the tree.

Twigs scratch me as I fall, a particularly big one ripping a hole in my jumper sleeve and leaving a semi-deep scratch trailing right down my arm. I flail in the air, trying to grab something, trying to see who it is at the same time. I fall with a crunch on the grass and have the wind knocked out of me, my back crying out in pain and my head pounding.

When I open up my eyes, I see through my blurry vision that it's not just one person, but a couple of people surrounding me. All of them are wearing beanies over their heads, with holes for their mouths and eyes. Uh-oh.

"You got a couple of our friends arrested, girly," one snarls, tapping what appears to be a cricket bat against his thigh, "and if you know what's good for you you'll stay out of our way, alright?"

I see in the corner of my eye Socks, who is running away from the scene like the coward he is. He is in perfectly good condition, something I can't say the same for myself.

Groaning, I sit up, and I hear that rustling again – where is that coming from?

Shaking my head, I look up at them with a raised eyebrow, "Sure, I'll stay out of your way, so long as you stop breaking into elderly people's houses and stealing their money."

The guy with the bat takes a swing and I lean back with wide eyes, watching as it barely misses grazing my nose. My jaw drops and I narrow my eyes.

In a second I'm on my feet despite the pain in my back and head. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to provoke them like that, but what was I supposed to do? Tell them I was going to let them get away with being sociopaths?

What kinda jerk steals from an elderly person?

"What is wrong with you guys?" I want to know, leaping out of the way of another swing,

"You think this is bad?" The guy says, his cohorts surrounding him with smug looks on their faces, "This is just a warning."

I look at them, frowning, and then a police siren starts to go off which causes us all to freeze. I look around and peer down the street, trying to find where it's coming from. It sounds so loud, like its right next to us, but nothing is to be seen.

I turn my eyes back to them, only to find that they've run off down the street. Cowards.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and my breath hitches, "What do you think you're doing, missy?"

Whipping around, I push my hands to their chest and back them right into the tree.

It's a boy, decked out in all camo gear with a big FP on his chest. He looks somewhere around my age from what I can tell but that really isn't saying much. Like me, his face is covered, only in his case with a bandana, ninja turtles style, rather than a glittery mask. I guess I can't blame him; it would be kind of effeminate.

"Who are you?" I pull on his jacket's drawstrings threateningly. "Are you the one that has been following me all night?"

"Oh my God," he sucks in his breath, eyes wide beneath his mask, "simmer down; I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to warn you."

"I'm not worried about you hurting me," I dig my nails into his chest in demonstration, watching him grimace, "I'm not the one being pinned down on a tree. And warn me about what, exactly?"

"What?" He echoes, pulling out his phone and waving it around, "what do you think? If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead right now. "

"What do you mean?" I blink at him, pushing the phone out of my face.

"I mean," he presses play and police sirens scream out his phone, "that next time they might not fall for this, and you'll get hurt."

I blink again in realisation and then pound one of my fists on his chest in annoyance, eyes narrowing once more, "I can't believe you did that, I was doing just fine on my own."

"Bull," he laughs, "didn't look like it."

"Oh, shut up, what do you care?" I want to know, stepping back and wondering just who he thinks he is telling me what to do. "I don't even know who you are."

"The answer's closer than you think, Francine," he teases, before his voice takes on a more chiding tone, "now stop doing this, right now, or I'll be forced to do something about it."

"Oh yeah, like what?" I inquire, but what I really want to know is why does he know my name?

He's silent a moment, just looking at me, and his brown eyes start to make my heart pound, reminding me of someone else's brown eyes. Unnerved, I step further away from him, and to my horror he takes a step closer and cups my cheek.

I open my mouth to protest and his lips silence me, pressing into mine as his arms slip around my waist and fingertips tickle my sides. His heart is pounding right against my chest and the heat is radiating off his skin like he's on fire. He's kissing me like he really means it, like he's practiced for this very moment for a long time – only how can that be?

He's the wrong person. He's not Harry. I don't even know who he is.

I bring my hands up and push him away, eyes wide, when a flash goes off in my face, "What the hell do you think you're –"

"Stop this now," he flashes the phone to me, "or I'll show your boyfriend this picture, and it'll break his little heart."

"What??" I say, my voice going high pitched and cheeks going bright red, but he doesn't say anything more.

Just puts the phone in his hoodie pocket and runs away.


I sit in the tree, patting Socks for the third time that week, and wondering about what had happened a couple of days ago: Harry was acting weird and suspicious, a bunch of guys came around and tried to beat me up and – oh yeah, a boy KISSED me.

A boy that wasn't Harry.

I couldn't look at him the whole of study time these last few nights, and even worse, he seems really amused about it. I tried to look at him this one time, he caught me, and I turned bright red. He then excused himself to the bathroom to be polite, but I could hear his laughter even from the other side of the house.

I could barely hear his mum, who had walked into the room to ask me how I was doing, he was that loud about it. I don't understand what's so funny. I really don't see anything funny in this situation.

A boy kissed me that wasn't him, and he finds it absolutely hilarious.

I know he doesn't know anything about it. But still.

"Hey babe," someone sings sarcastically, tugging on my foot. I look down in alarm, and groan when I realise who it is. "I thought I told you to stay out of this."

"I thought I told you to get lost," I kick his hand off of my foot, taking Socks into my arms and jumping down from the tree. Socks jumps out of my arms when I do, running back down the street to his owner's house as he normally does when trouble comes a knocking.

I shake my head at him, lips pressing together, but then something catches my eye.

I look down at the jeans FP's wearing over his boxers, which aren't fully zipped up and have little stars, hearts and smiley faces trailing all over the pockets.

He's wearing my jeans.

Jaw dropping, I look up at him in incredulity, "What the hell?"

"That's what happens when you leave them at my house," he tells me, a smirk gracing his lips.

I'm about to rebuke, bemused, when his eyes go wide and he grabs me by the waist, pulling me behind the tree with him. I can feel the bark pressing up against my back and the zipper of his jacket digging into my chin. I blink into his jacket, eyes as wide as his, heart starting to pound so hard I'm sure he can feel it.

It makes me think of the other night, and then I feel guilty.

"Let go of me," I say, my voice high and muffled, "I've never even been to your house, you're freaking me out – let go of me. Let go of me."

"Shh," he looks around the tree, before grimacing, "crap, it didn't work."

"What didn't work?" I want to know, getting even more confused.

"So the bitch has a sidekick?" I hear laughter and freeze, not even daring to look over my shoulder. I don't need to. I know who's there. It's the guys from the other night, they're back, and this time it's not just myself I've got to protect if he doesn't get lost.

"Do they have a weapon?" I ask him quietly, but he's too busy looking in a very alarmed sort of way over my shoulder.

"If you count knives as weapons," he mutters, grabbing onto my wrist and tugging, "let's get out of here."

"You should," I shrug off his wrist and ignore his cries of protest, storming out from behind the tree and facing them, fists raised and ready for a fight. "Who's up first?"

"Me," a blonde guy jumps up from beside me, closer than I thought he'd be, and knocks me sideways. I nearly trip over my feet but catch myself, grabbing onto his sleeve and straightening. I turn my eyes to blondie, letting go of his sleeve; he's smirking at me, knife raised.

I frown at him, and balling my hands into fists, charge. It's on.

My body collides with his and his eyes widen in shock as he falls on his ass, dropping the knife. Before he can blink I snatch it up and wheel around, biting my lip as the other three come running to the guy's rescue. "Come get it."

I lift up my foot and stomp down on his stomach, hearing him yowl out in pain and glaring at them. They can try me, but they won't win. I have brothers, footballer brothers, and they're nothing compared to Ash and Anders.

Sticking my other foot out and leaning back, I watch as another one bites the dust, coming flying over my foot and digging his knife harmlessly into the soil.

"Two down, two more to go," I murmur with a smirk.

Only when I look up there's only one, and I have no idea where the other one is. That is until I hear a very masculine voice scream from behind me, "Get the hell away from me, you freak!"

I frown, is he going to be okay back there?

Turns out I don't have to worry, though. I hear a thud and FP comes running out from the trees, looking freaked and at the same time incredibly pissed off with me. I see the beanie guy who'd came after FP falling in a heap, clutching his face, and find myself feeling rather impressed.

But there's no time for that.

I turn my eyes back around and feel the wind being knocked out of me as the last guy crashes into me, tripping me over blondie's body and causing me to crash land on him. I feel a groan from beneath me and beanie guy number two starts to get up from where I tripped him over.

He hasn't learnt his lesson.

I bring my knees to my stomach as the guy looms over me, white teeth showing through a manic grin, and then I kick into his stomach with as much force as I can muster. Groaning, he falls back and crashes into beanie guy number two, and they topple over like a pair of dominoes.

Digging my nails into blondie's stomach, I push myself back onto my feet and look around. Everything is relatively silent again. I can hear crickets chirping, the wind blowing. I can see all four of them lying, moaning and clutching various parts of their body.

I survey the scene, making sure that they're not going to be getting up anytime soon. It doesn't look like it though. Their knives are scattered harmlessly across the grass. A worm fondles one, wriggling around it to delve back into the soil and away from the violence.

Picking up one of the knives, I inspect it; it's a kitchen knife, for crying out loud, I guess they're very pro at this.

Looks like I'm done here.

"Oh my God, Francine," I turn my head and grin at FP, who's clutching his phone like it's a lifeline, face burning red with anger as he points at the knife in my hand, "you are such a psycho, what the hell were you going to do if they got you with that?"

I step off of blondie and look at him, shrugging, "They didn't, and hey," I look at his phone, noticing it's pink in colour, "way to go being comfortable with your masculinity."

"It's my sister's cell-phone-stun-gun, idiot," he presses the button and electricity flickers at the top end of it, "I took it in case you decided to get yourself into trouble, turns out you didn't need it. What the hell was that?"

"I have brothers," I shrug, rolling my eyes, "think I can't protect myself?"

"I think," he says darkly, bringing his hands up behind his head and loosening his bandana, "that if you keep this up, one day you'll meet someone you can't overpower, and you'll get hurt."

His bandana falls to the ground and my eyes widen, settling on one very annoyed looking Harry Waters. My jaw drops. Shit.

I feel myself drawing back in horror, wanting to run away. He knows, he knows. I must look completely unfeminine to him now. I freaking pressed him against a tree, in a completely non-sexual way. I dug my nails into his chest so hard I'm sure they left marks there – not to mention the things I've been saying.

I threatened him. I told him to get lost. I bashed up a bunch of guys in front of him. I pushed him away when he kissed me.

He KISSED me – why did he KISS me?

Because he knows I like him. He was using it against me, I remember, to try and get me to stop going out at night, fighting crime and getting bruises. He knows that looking at me, right now, that I'm completely in like with him.

Oh my God that is so humiliating.

My hands fall limp at my sides. I remember him standing in the bathroom, laughing. Laughing at my feelings, laughing at the fact that I liked him, laughing at the fact he'd never like me back. Not even remotely. Not the way I wanted him too. He was laughing at me.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I've got to get away from here. I can't take it. I can't take him laughing at me anymore. It's not very funny to me.

I spin around, and start running home, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest.

Problem is he starts running after me, "Hey, Hey, Francine, come back!"

I hear a crunch and a grunt as I step on someone's arm, and grimace apologetically. I can't stop now. He's nearly caught me up already.

"Francine," he pants, "Francine, stop, why are you running away from me? Is it because I kissed you?"

My heart skips a beat, my cheeks burning. How direct of him. Is he going to say he didn't mean it? Tell me all about his lack of feelings for me? I don't want to hear it. I know it already. I don't need him to admit it. It's bad enough that I'll be forced into his company yet again for tutoring.

My mum's not going to change him over without reason and I really don't want to explain this.

"Francine, stop," he pants, "come on, please; I just want to talk to you. It won't hurt."

"No, I'm good," I shake my head 'no' at him, without slowing down.

On the contrary I think it'll be too much to bear.

"Francine," he shrieks, "stop running away from me."

"Go away Harry," I shriek right back, sending a glare over my shoulder, "go away! I don't want to hear it."

"You do, Francine," He pleads, "you have to."

I'm about to scream at him that I don't, that I don't have to – I don't have to do anything – but then, not watching where I'm going, I catch my foot on a particularly large tree root.

I'm about to topple right over but he catches me around the waist and hangs on, pulling my body flush against his and breathing into my neck. I feel shivers of pleasure wrack through my entire body at the contact, all of the blood in me rushing to my cheeks and turning my face an attractive shade of magenta.

"You can let go, now," I whisper, "I've got my footing."

"What do you think FP stands for?" He asks, and I shrug, feeling incredibly lightheaded, "Francine's protector. Although I guess you didn't need one, did you?"

I shake my head, wondering where he's going with this, "No, you can let go of me now."

"I don't want to," he says, and then putting his hands down on my shoulders, he turns me around, his deep brown eyes staring into my grey ones; I feel my heart skip a beat, and look involuntarily down at his lips, "I want you."

"What?" My eyes jump from his lips back to his eyes in disbelief.

"You heard me," he bumps hips with me. "I don't care if you can beat me up, hands tied behind your back. It's kind of hot. So stop this, because I'd be really upset if you got hurt. You don't have to save the world to be my superhero."

Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

I'm so surprised I bite down on his lip, and am worried he's going to pull away and realise how much of a mistake he's made, but he just bites mine back. I widen my eyes at his bold behaviour and hesitantly bring my hands up around his neck, just waiting for him to stop and tell me it's all a joke.

He doesn't though, and after five minutes of him making out with me a couple houses down from my own, right under the street light: I realise he's not going to.

Pure, unadulterated joy overwhelms me as we part. I look up into his eyes, incredulous that something so good could happen. Happen to me.

"So, do you get it?" he wants to know, looking at me meaningfully, "do you get why it bugs me, you going around and hurting yourself? Do you get how much I like you, how you drive me crazy? How angry I get when I'm tutoring you because you don't pay attention, because it feels like you don't even care what you're doing to me –"

I pull down on his collar and press a kiss to his lips, smiling, "I get it."

"Good," he relaxes, smiling back.

"Want to walk me home?" I gesture down the street to my house, feeling butterflies whizzing around like crazy in my stomach. He likes me. He likes me.

"Only if you promise to hold my hand," he smirks, nudging me in the stomach with an elbow, "it gets scary at night."

"I think I can manage that."


A/N: Edited this a little. I think it's okay now. Hated it with a passion before. The song at the start is the Sailor Moon theme ;)

AND OH MY FREAKING GOD, YOU GUYS. I haven't updated in a MONTH. This needs to stop. It will stop. I solemnly swear I will not go one week without posting something anymore. I PROMISE.

If I don't I give you permission to send me evil PMs of hateness. LOTS OF THEM.

Love you, I really do, xoxo.