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The next morning at the continental breakfast

"Waffles. Waffles. Waffles. Waffley waffles." Tre' sang to the tune of the Spam song, finally getting his favorite breakfast food.

"Shut up, asswipe," Mike snapped.

"Why Michael? Don't you like my song about the greatest breakfast food in the world?"

"You've been lucky this trip. Let's keep it that way."

"Cheech! Mike's threatening me!" Tre' cried.

"Michael! Knock it off, ya Dipshit," Cheech snapped.

Mike stuck his tongue out at her.

"Dirnt. Make Mike stop."

Dirnt opened her mouth to tell her that Mike was just grumpy because they didn't sleep very well when she was distracted by the appearance of Patrick, Joe and Andy. "What the hell happened to you three? It looks like you got gang beaten."

Mike found their pain amusing. "What? Did some black people finally kick your ass for being posers?"

"Ah, no," Patrick admitted. "But that's... that's funny," he said sarcastically before going off in search of coffee.

Andy blushed. "Joe fell out of bed again, and I sat up too fast and smacked my head on the top bunk... thing... twice."

Mike laughed, of course, while the girls and Tre' weren't sure whether to wince or giggle behind their backs.

Emma got to the point. "Is Patrick still mad at me?"

Andy shrugged while Joe nodded.

Emma frowned. "He is?"

Andy hit Joe. "How do you know?"

"It hurts to shake my head," he admitted.

Andy rolled his eyes and went to go sit with Pete and Stoop.

Billie Joe looked at Emma and sighed. I a rare streak of good advice, he suggested, "If this is bothering you so much, why don't you go talk to him?"

"Yeah," Mike added. "Just don't give him another black eye."

Emma looked at them hopefully. "Will you two quit calling me Patrick Beater?"

"If you can have a normal conversation without hitting him," Billie Joe reasoned.

Emma frowned, got up and boldly walked up to Patrick. "Patrick?" she asked firmly.

Patrick jumped, turned around and held his arms up in defense. He carefully opened the one eye he could see out of, "Uh, hi."

Emma knitted her eyebrows. "Are you mad at me?"

Patrick shifted his eyes. "No."

"Really?"

"I don't know."

"Look, we have to get this cleared up because I'm going to be stuck in Pete's car again, and if we don't do anything it's going to be awkward," Emma explained. She put her hands out helplessly. Patrick flinched. "Will you stop flinching?"

"Sorry."

"Look! I'm not going to hit you again! The next person I hit is either going to be Pete, Mike or Billie! Not you!" Her arms got quite dramatic during her little spiel and she accidentally smacked Patrick on the side of the head. "Shit! Sorry!" she blurted.

Pete glared at her. "Will you just go away?"

"But..." she stammered, put her head down and ran back to her table so she could hide under it.

Billie Joe just had to look at her. "You hit him again. Didn't you?"

Emma bared her face in her arms and sobbed.

Author's note: Sadly, this is the last hunk of story that has been written thus far. I have no clue whether to continue because, frankly, I don't know how much more I can milk out of this plot. If anyone has any ideas, please send them to me.