Fighting Fire with Fire - 1

Hey people!

So.

This is it - the new story. Before anyone comments in the future saying it reminds them of John Tucker Must Die, it is a remake of John Tucker Must Die, and therefore will be very similar to John Tucker Must Die. John Tucker Must Die.

Thank you to everyone that commented on the note and my previous story (I Love Him, I Love Him Not) and, to everyone's relief, the sequel is back on track.

Ella Jade - Yep, that's me! It was utterly amazing!

MINIMAN - Heeyy homie!! I have been SO busy with a billion other things that I have just NOT had time. It's not fair to make you lovely people wait, so I'm gonna post a pre-written story that I did ages ago in the meantime. I don't use bookies, no, it just seems to complicated. And it's one more site on my list. I'd forget. And didn't you want my email address from a few chapters ago? I never got an add, so here it is - sweetkitten@hotmail.co.uk

Hope I hear from you soon.

Lena.B - I am so sorry. But here's something I prepared earlier.

Ginaeve S. - Yo homie. I love the gangster we got going here. You will NOT die - somehow, I shall make sure of it. I control the world, you know. Or, at least, my rabbit does. Why, thank you very much for the compliment, however off target.hanks for the best wishes and here you are - another bit for you.

Diana - I am so sorry. I really am. But would you rather have a really bad story that carries on forever, or a really good one that needs to take a little break? Cheer up, chuck, and keep reading this one in the meantime.

Marissa - And I love, love, loved your comment!

BJZ - Me too! Yeah, i'd love to enter comps - problem is, I never know when the official ones start. And here it is -

This story is officially dedicated to my wonderful commenter, BJZ!

Happy now?

Everyone else - ENJOY.

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Lucas Daniel Stone can have any girl he wants. He can have popular girls, shy girls, tall girls, short girls, fat girls, skinny girls, snobby girls, down-to-earth girls, rich girls, poor girls, and even former-model girls. And that, ultimately, is his problem.

I've always thought, ever since that fateful day when I became one of his date, dumb and diss girls, that if he didn't have absolutely everybody mooning over him, he wouldn't be such a jerk. I've always thought that if he wasn't as stunning as he was, maybe he wouldn't be so up himself.

But I've come to learn, over a long year of observance, that this would not be the case. Lucas Daniel Stone is one of those guys who are always in his element, who is always the cream of the crop. He fits in everywhere, even in places where he should be inadequate, and adjusts to even the worst situations.

That's one thing he's amazingly good at.

But another thing he amazingly sucks at is being nice. Sure, he can be sweet and charming and oh so smooth, but Lucas Daniel Stone cannot manage being nice. Which is why I hate his guts.

Shock, horror, gasp! Yeah, whatever. It is possible, before you ask. I did not become one of his obsessive, stalking exes that joined his clique and clung to the idea that he might, might just take them back.

Not going to happen. Lucas Daniel Stone does not do second chances. And neither do I. Well, not for him anyway. I'm not completely ruthless.

But I do have a good reason for hating him.

Before you ask, it wasn't the fact that he broke up with me. I mean, I was expecting that. I was really surprised he asked me out in the first place. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not plain or ugly or anything. I'm quite pretty, actually. It's just that I don't wear make up, detest skirts, dresses, and all things pink, have an affliction towards soppiness and love to kick some serious ass. Not his usual type of girl.

So no, it wasn't the fact that he broke up with me.

It was the way he went about it.

He had asked me out on a date to the pier and turned up half an hour early to my house. I had run upstairs to get ready, and when I returned downstairs, he was shamelessly flirting with my mother, telling her that her eyes were sunset blue and that she was very pretty for a mummy. My mom was blushing and halfheartedly warding him off; even thirty-something years olds don't have morals when faced with his devilish charms!

I was practically at puke-point at this time, and so I stormed in there and dragged him away in a very bad mood. I was about to confront him when he turned on the old blue eyed charm, fluttering his long, delicate eyelashes and looking at me in a way that suggested he was very hungry and wanted to eat me all up in one bite.

Not resistant to his charms yet, I sighed and hugged him, forgetting all about the incident. Later, when at a party, I had taken his hand and lead him into the house, and when we got to the middle of the heaving dance floor, he had ripped his hand out of mine and shouted 'Stop!' really loudly, as if I were abusing him or something.

Every head turned to look and even the DJ stopped the music, so it was totally quiet. Everybody watched with bated breath for the next ceremoniously nasty dumping of another has-been girlfriend of Lucas's.

"Taylor ! This really has gone far enough!" He yelled, loud and clear enough that people that had been lounging about upstairs tentatively stuck their heads over the banisters. "You are way too clingy, not to mention frigid! You drag me around everywhere like you don't have a life of your own and even interrupted me and your mother having a friendly chat who, by the way, is so much hotter than you."

This comment was received with a lot of titters and even a few cat calls from a few drunker guys. Many girls were looking at me pitifully as if Lucas was actually telling the truth; they were remembering the way we had walked in and interpreting it so I looked like the desperate girlfriend he was trying to portray.

At that point, I was too drunk on hurt to even be angry yet.

"You dress like a guy and act like a guy and frankly, I don't even understand why I asked you out in the first place!" He sneered, and then his partner in crime, Randy, stumbled forward and tapped him on the shoulder. He was very, very drunk.

"Hey, man. You got your money. You managed to date the ice queen for three days! Hi-five!" He slurred, raising his hand and then letting it smack into Lucas's shoulder.

At this point, it felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach.
And I really wanted to do what I would do if any other person in any other situation punched me in the stomach - punch them back. But then I really would be living up to their words because it was such a guy thing to do.

So, instead, I leaned forward and hissed, so no one else could hear me;

"I hate you."

Lucas, seemingly unfazed by my animosity, just shrugged his shoulders.

"It's about time someone did. It's tiring be loved all the time." And then he turned around and walked away, straight to another huddle of staring girls to pick his next victim. And, although they had just witnessed the true nastiness of the object of their godly devotion, I could already see them falling.

Now, after reading that, do you understand why I hate Lucas? He's not perfect, no way, but he can sure fool a lot of people into it. I guess I should probably describe him now; most people are itching to know what he looks like once I get to this point in the story.

Lucas... well, Lucas is the picture you find when you look up the definition of 'gorgeous' in the dictionary. He's tall and lean and has the body that you would expect on a Calvin Klein underwear model. His hair is dark and ruffled and he has the most amazing smile; one that both dazzles and captivates you at the same time.

His eyes are this really indistinguishable color - something that is in between electric blue and emerald green, with little flecks of silver in them. These are framed with those infamous long lashes, and complimented by the slant of his perfect, dark eyebrows. His cheekbones are the kind that models would kill for, and give his whole face the general look of chiseled attractiveness. He has a strong jaw and then the most amazing, full, soft looking lips that are always twisted in a sardonic smile or broodingly gorgeous scowl.

In other words, he is beautiful.

But that isn't the only part of him that lures girls in like fish to bait.
He oozes this charm, this exuberance; I guess you could say he has a certain charisma. When you're with him, heads turn, and once they turn, they generally stay in his direction. When I actually was with him, I got used to it quickly. Three days of girls shooting me scornful looks that said 'You're so not in his league' and I was off girls forever.

Well, every girl except for Manda, my best friend.

Who got me into this whole mess in the first place.

Manda, who quickly became Amanda Charles Wainwright when she was around her parents, was a posh school runaway who'd annoyed her parents so much that she'd got shoved in the local comprehensive and left to deal with it. I liked her because she was rebellious and careless and free; no matter what her parents do to try to 'dampen her spirit'.

Manda has long blonde hair that seems to need constant preening, a button nose and a big smile. She's cute, and friendly, and into guys in a big way. So when she first set eyes on Lucas, you can imagine her reaction.

"He. Is. So. Hot." She had breathed, swishing all that blonde hair back.
"Wow."

"Yeah, I suppose." I had replied noncommittally, drawing lazy zigzags on the tarmac with my skateboard. "But he's a total player. So you might want to steer clear."

She had stared at me, wide eyed, and shook her head like I was mad.

"With a guy as hot as that, who cares if they're getting played?"

And so, it was her, when I tentatively announced a few months later that he had asked me out, that insisted I say yes, and insisted I do this and insisted I do that. She was the one that insisted I would be the one to change him. Pfft . Look how that turned out.

Now, she was insisting I kick his butt for being such a prick.

It had been a year since the breakup incident, and Manda hadn't let it go. She brought it up every time we got a glimpse of him, and this time was no different.

"Look at him. Strutting around with all those stupid girls following after him like he's some god." She fumed. Yes, she got dumped, too. "I'd like to get revenge. Wouldn't you like to get revenge?"

I sighed; this had to be the tenth time she had brought up this conversation.

"Sure, Manda." I droned listlessly, picking at the cold toast that lay on the cafe table in front of me. The butter had congealed on the top, and it was less than appealing to a queasy stomach.

"So why don't we? Why don't we launch ..." her eyes searched wildly for some inspiration and landed on a cardboard cut out of a super-heroine that was promoting a new spoof hero movie. "Why don't we launch Operation Superwoman?!"

I was about to rebuff the idea, but Manda caught hold of my arm, her eyes suddenly shining.

"No, no, no - think about it, Taylor ! Lucas has everything he wants, right? A cool family, an amazing car, looks, every girl he wants, money... and he gets through these things like they bore him. He keeps wanting do-overs, variations...oh my God! I'm actually right. He lives with his mother half the year, and then switches to his father for the other half, is always changing his car, obviously he changes his clothes, so that counts as changing his look, he's always swapping girlfriends and money... well, you can't really change money, but other than that, we've found his weakness!" She exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat.

I arched an eyebrow. "Right... what is it?"

Manda gave me a decidedly unimpressed look before smiling cunningly again.

"Taylor , Lucas's weakness is something he can't have!" She said, clapping her hands together gleefully. "So we'll just make me into this Superwoman, who's totally cool and chic and out of his league, and then dump him horribly and publicly. It'll be great!"

I chanced taking a bite of my toast. The butter melted again and it didn't taste so bad, once you get past the feeling of staleness that was seemingly on a mission to choke me.

"Hmm... cool." I agreed vaguely, finally giving up on my toast and cradling my small cup of tea instead. "But isn't that kind of obvious, like a counter dump thingamabob? Shouldn't you wait for a bit more, so it's like you've actually gotten over him? Because let's face it, Mandy, it's been barely two weeks and you still get a moony look on your face whenever you see him, no matter what garbled rubbish comes out of your mouth."

Manda looked kind of shocked for a second, but then she nodded and crossed her arms in front of herself defensively.

"I can't help it. You know how it is... " She looked at me, trailed off and then shook her head. "No, of course you don't. How did you get over him so quickly, anyway? Nobody, and I repeat nobody has ever gotten over Lucas Stone so quickly. It took, what, two minutes?"

She was looking at me with this admiring gaze, but I kept my eyes fixed on the grains of sugar dancing across the tabletop between us.

"I hate him." I replied simply, taking a sip of my tea in a way that should have ended the conversation. But Manda, in a way that only best friends are allowed to be, plundered on.

"So maybe... " She pondered thoughtfully, "Maybe you should be Superwoman. It would be more effective. A full year, and you don't wear make up and stuff. It'll be like a whole new you!"

I shuddered away from the contemplation of becoming a girly girl, but thought hard on the plan. All I had to do was wear some pretty clothes, act sweet and cool, and then crush the number one guy on my hit list under some six inch stilettos, which is definitely what I would be wearing, knowing Manda. Hmm... not bad, as plans went.

"Okay, I'll do it." I smiled at the way Manda lit up, like a Christmas tree that just couldn't wait to be switched on. "But under one condition." I held a finger out, causing her to frown worriedly. "No pink."

Manda, who joined in with my loathing of the salmon guts color, nodded firmly.

"No pink." She repeated, and then we were off.

Operation Superwoman had lift off.