Title: Roses are Red
Author: Talitha Koum/BlueEuedPerceiver
Characters: Nevaeh Alexander and Riku Kastov BELONG to me.

Riku considered himself relatively wise in the ways of women. (Sort of. The only women who played a major role in his life were somewhat insane, which may or may not have said something...) Regardless, Nevaeh had a way of pulling the rug from beneath his feet after he thought he had her figured out.

"Give me your toast." Nevaeh shouldered her bookbag while they crossed the Meadows parking lot. The weather was warm for October; the sun was hot, despite the wind bent on rousing goosebumps no matter the sunshine. Nevaeh's braided hair whipped around her waist. Her bangs framed her tawny eyes like writhing, snaky parenthesis.

Riku had no intention of giving Nevaeh his breakfast even though he teased, "What's the magic word?"

"Now."

"Teh. Wrong." Riku ate his toast in two, big bites.

"I thought friends were supposed to share."

"Not when I'm hungry."

"But I'm hungry, too."

"Why?" Riku snapped. "You actually have food at your house." (By food, he meant ingredients.) After last night, Riku groused, I wouldn't be surprised if Nevaeh didn't eat anything that wasn't from scratch.

His point: Miss Priss had the money to whip herself a little some'in-some'in whenever the mood struck her, as she often loved to remind anyone who would listen. Riku was ashamed his bitterness toward Nevaeh's wealth manifested so quickly and so vehemently.

Nevaeh stalled. She stood between two, unsuspecting vehicles, their warranties hanging in the balance. The way she considered their windshields like they were cuts of meat rather than panes of glass was cause for Riku to worry.

"What's the point in eating if there's no one to eat with?" Nevaeh elbowed Riku to waver on his feet and walked to school by herself.

Riku refused to apologize. He was sick and tired of saying "I'm sorry" all the time. It's Nevaeh's turn. No matter what she says or how pathetically she says it, Nevaeh says the S word first.

Riku was curious to find a note on his desk by the time he pulled himself together and plodded to homeroom. The note read KASTOV in italic calligraphy. No one school-wide would go as far as communicate with The Demon--even if it wasn't a direct line--on purpose. (Besides, notes were too old-school for most people. Text messaging kicked note-passing to the curb at the turn of the 21st century.) Only Nevaeh would resort to notes. She had a strange and unhealthy bond with penmanship.

Riku scrutinized Nevaeh, who pretended as if he wasn't there. He opened the note and read: Roses are red. Violets are blue. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast. Choke, Mr. Kastov. "Childish," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Nevaeh smiled smugly.

Riku sat in his seat. All through the morning announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance, he couldn't stop mulling over Nevaeh's newest ploy to grate his nerves. He kept her note open on his desk so he could read it over and over and over. Roses are red. Ha, he thought. Some love poem.

Riku pinched the bridge of his nose. She probably thinks what she wrote is a love poem, knowing her. He hated himself for stooping to Nevaeh's level, but he scribbled underneath her handwriting:  

roses are red violets are blue you fail at poetry

Riku passed Nevaeh the note. He watched her unfold the piece of notebook paper and was disappointed in her reaction. She neither frowned nor smirked. She hardly batted an eyelash as she penciled her response, refolded the paper, and handed it back to him casually.

Riku read: Roses are red. Violets are blue. You hates grammar. (Nevaeh drew an arrow back to his poem and corrected his mistakes.)  

roses are red violets are blue it's because you're a perfectionist nobody likes you

Roses are red. Violets are blue. Stop whining like a little girl and drop a pair. You're long overdue.

"What's your problem?" Riku hissed.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. You're my problem.

Riku scowled, Ditto.