I'm running. I've been doing a lot of physical activity lately. Back home, I was always too caught up in my schoolwork to pay attention to running and sports and stuff like that. Now though...well...I don't know. I think my dad's side of the family is finally starting to kick in. He'd be so proud of me. My grandmother says I shouldn't be running around so much though. She says it's bad for my asthma. But she worries a lot too. That's one thing I've learned about the woman in the three months I've been here. Well that...and that she wears a lot of makeup. She's my father's mother, that's another reason she worries about me too. When she looks at me, she sees him...and I guess it's like she's becoming a mother for the second time. I know they didn't' talk much over the last few years. I don't know if she deeply regrets it or whatever though. She doesn't' really talk about my parents with me. She only talks about my starting school next week, and how much she wishes I would give in and go to Vermillion like the other ‘upstanding gentlemen my age'. But I won't go there. It would remind me too much of Harding, and I don't want to get homesick right now. I went through that the first week I was here, and now...thank God, I've gotten past it a little bit.

I'm going to Hanson Memorial High School. There's one other high school here in Franklin, but Hanson is the one within walking distance of my grandmother's Colonial. She told me she doesn't understand why I would need to walk back and forth to school when she has a perfectly capable driver to bring me there and back. I don't' want that though. I told her, I just want to be normal. This school isn't like Harding, where everybody pulls up to school in limousine's and BMW's. It's just your normal run of the mill middle class high school. I don't want people to form an opinion about me before they get to know me...and further more, I don't want them knowing who my grandmother is...but I'm sure my last name will give it away right off the bat. Gertrude Parker Timberlake owns this town...and everybody knows it too. I don't want to be known as ‘the oil boy' or whatever other name they're sure to make up for me. I just want to be me...Justin Timberlake. I want my friends to like me for who I am and what I can do...not for the money I have. My friends back home were that way with me. They liked me for me...

Man, I really miss them.

I've never been in this section of town before. It's nothing like my grandmother's neighborhood though, I can tell. There are no big three story houses here, or picture perfect landscapes to gaze at. These houses are small, and most of them are grungy and run down. I stop running, and Fritz whimpers a little because I've stopped him. "Wait," I huff, glancing up at the street sign. Hmm...Carling Street. The name rings a bell, but I can't remember why. Maybe my grandmother told me about it? Heck, I don't know, she's been telling me so many things about so many people and places I can't keep track anymore. With a shrug I move forward, figuring I might as well get to know every part of town while I still have time. Once school starts, I know I'm going to be swamped with homework and papers. I saw my placement card yesterday, and I've been accepted as an advanced placement student. My grandmother was proud of me I guess...but then, I'm sure she expected it from me. She knows I'm smart...she's seen my school review and everything.

As I venture further along, I'm sure I can hear kids playing. Then Fritz bolts forward, and tries his best to drag me down the sidewalk with him. He's so little though, he has no dominance over me. I give him a little slack though, and walk faster. I know he loves playing with kids. Back home, he used to love it when I would take him to Jack's house. Jack has three younger brothers...a field day for a dog who loves to play. I know Fritz has been missing them. He hasn't been eating like he used to. My grandmother says I should take him to the vet and get him looked at...that he's probably not used to the weather down here. I know that's not the case though. He just has to get used to this change...

Just like I do.

We reach the end of the block, and I see what's got Fritz so excited. There are two little kids running around a sprinkler, in front of a very small...very run down piece of property. The kids don't seem to care though. They're happy with their sprinkler.

"A doggie!" The smaller child stops in the middle of the squirting water and points at Fritz and I. "Sammy look! A doggie! A doggie!"

I smile, and move closer to the small patch of grass. "Hey," I say. I let Fritz off of his leash, and he eagerly bounds toward the kids. Damn, I haven't' seen him this excited in a long time. It gets me to smile. I can't remember the last time I smiled.

The screen door opens a moment later, and a girl who looks about my age comes outside. She's average height...maybe 5'5" or so. Her brown hair is tossed up in messy pony tail, and there is dirt on her shirt and pants. The sponge in her hand is telling me she's been cleaning, and the look on her face is telling me she's tired. But the dirt and fatigue can't conceal her natural beauty. She's got a deep set tan, which I'm sure is natural. I wonder, maybe she's Latin? Yeah, she could be. Or Italian. She's got soft brown eyes, and cute pouty lips. I feel like I should introduce myself, but I don't know what to say. I'm sure we have nothing in common, and I don't want to look like a fool in her eyes.

"You kids know not to talk to strangers!" she hollers. Then she looks at me. She doesn't seem too happy that I've stopped to watch the kids play. But...this isn't the best neighborhood. If I was in her place I wouldn't trust me either. "That's your dog?" she asks.

I nod, and step closer to her. The water sprays me a little, but I don't mind. It's hot as hell, and I'll probably walk back through the sprinkler on my way out of here. "Yeah," I tell her, sticking out my hand. "I'm uh...I'm Justin."

She shakes my hand. "Why are you talking to my brother and sister?" She sits down on the fronts steps and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "Are you some kind of freak?"

I chuckle a bit. "No. My dog...he likes kids."

She glances over at Fritz, and I do the same. He's running through the sprinkler with the two kids. They're squealing...having fun. I'm glad I came by, even though my grandmother is going to be upset with me when I bring Fritz home all wet. She just had him groomed yesterday too. I can hear her now. ‘Young man, have you no decency? You're lucky I'm allowing you to keep that--that animal.'

"That looks like an expensive dog," she tells me, pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it up. She takes a drag, and then slowly blows the smoke out of her mouth. "What kind is it?"

"He's a Bichon Frise," I say. "The breed originated in the northern part of France, and actually it didn't get over to this part of he world till about 1955. They‘re a lot more common now of course."

She laughs out loud. "Damn," she says, taking another drag. "Are you some kind of walking encyclopedia?" She gives me a queer look. "If I press your nose, will you recite the Constitution?"

I feel my face turn red. It's happening already. I'm a walking talking dork. I need to remember that this isn't home. She's not part of the Harding crowd. People don't' act like that here...sophisticated. They're cool, hip, trendy; well at least they think they are. But that's definitely not me. "No," I manage to say, not meeting her gaze.

"Sorry..."

I look at her. The look in her eyes is telling me that she feels bad for insulting me. But she doesn't realize that it doesn't' matter what she says to me. Her words can't bring me down any lower than I am already. "Don't worry about it," I reassure her. "It's was just a joke, right?"

"Yeah," she nods. "So...you go to private school or something?" She finishes her cigarette and crushes the butt against the step below her foot. "I've haven't seen you around here."

"Well, uh...no," I say, not quite meeting her gaze. "I mean, I used to go to private school but then I moved out here a few weeks ago. I live over on Quaker with my grandmother."

"Quaker..." she looks at me, and her eyes get wide. "Well shit, no wonder you have a Bitchin Frizzy or whatever the hell it is."

I begin to correct her. "Bichon Fris--"

"It was a joke, Justin," she sighs and gets up from the step. "Are you always so serious?"

Serious? I don't get it. I've never thought myself to be serious, and none of my friends think I am. I read a lot...so I know a lot. Bichon's are my favorite breed. Why is it so weird that I know about them? "I'm not serious," I inform her. "Just knowledgeable and educated."

She rolls her eyes. "Sure." She turns her focus to the two kids in the front yard. "Sammie! Carley! Inside!"

I get up, and whistle for Fritz, who comes bounding over to my side immediately. He shakes himself off, getting his mess on me in the process. I'm so busy trying to fix his fur, I don‘t have the chance to react when I hear a little giggle behind me. Then I feel it. Something hits me on the back side, and a moment later I feel a cool surge of water running down my back and legs. I turn away from Fritz to find the small boy that was playing in the sprinkler, standing at the bottom of the stairs. His smile is a mile wide, and I see a bag of water balloons in his tiny right fist.

"Sammy!" I hear what's-her-name yell. "What have I told you about throwing water balloons at people?"

Sammy doesn't say anything. He just giggles again and runs up the stairs and into the house. I can hear him yell something to the other child somewhere in the house, and then I hear more giggles and laughter. I smile again. I run my hands through my thick mass of curls, trying to get the access water out, but it doesn't‘ help much. "It's okay," I reassure her after a moment. "It's hot anyway."

"He does it all the time," she grumbles. "The other day he did it to the post man, only the post man wasn't‘ so understanding. I‘m really sorry Justin, do you want a towel or something?"

I chuckle a little. "Don‘t be sorry. I was gonna walk through the sprinkler before I left here anyway. Your brother saved me a trip through. And if they hadn't been playing out here, I wouldn't have made my first friend." I smile at her, and loop Fritz's leash around his neck. He starts to whine again. He always wants to run. It's the only downside that this dog has, but I guess I should be thankful for that. If he tore up things and dug holes in the garden, Grandmother would surely give him away.

"Friend?"

"Well...yeah." I'm kind of confused. It's almost as if they idea of me being her friend is insane or out of the question. "I mean, I thought we hit it off well enough, don't you?"

She frowns. "You have a lot to learn about this town, Justin."

She turns to go back into the house, and frankly, I'm a little put off by her. She seemed nice at first, but now the only thing she seems like is a little snob. I cringe inside, and decide to go back home so I don't have to deal with her attitude anymore. But something stops me before I can start back down the sidewalk. My mind is screaming at me....she never told you her name. What does it matter? Oh hell...

I turn around. But she's already gone.

So much for fitting in.

********

"Please don't sit like that Justin." My grandmother looks up from her plate, and eyes me disapprovingly. "You'll crease your suit before you get to school."

I've been wearing outfits like this to school my entire life. Harding is one of those pre K through 12 schools, with the required uniform. Blazer, tie, and dress pants. It's no wonder I'm never uncomfortable in clothes like this. I wonder if the kids in Hanson hate the apparel? I guess I'll find out today. I sit up quickly, so my grandmother won't be angry with me anymore. "Sorry, grandmother."

She nods. "I spoke with the principal yesterday, while you were giving that silly dog a bath. Honestly, Justin..." she sighs.

I knew she was going to be upset with me when I brought Fritz home yesterday. At first, she was going to make me chain him to the dog house outside, but then I begged her to let me give him a bath or something...anything. Damn, I was crying. I'm such a loser.

But she gave in.

"The man is a complete imbecile," she continues. "He couldn't run a school if his life depended on it. And now, you...my only grandson, will be subjected to the stupidity of the public school system. I told him that I only want the best for you. I even suggested that you be allowed to be privately tutored..."

"Grandmother," I interrupt. "I want to go to school, and be normal...like everybody else. We talked about this." I pick up my fork, and stare down at my breakfast. Belgian Waffles with powdered sugar. That was my father's favorite. I put my fork down.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asks me after a moment. "You know, breakfast is a very important meal. It gets the heart started, and the mind inspired."

I shrug. "I'm not very hungry," I say. Actually I am hungry. But...this...I can't stomach this particular breakfast selection right now. "Maybe when I get to school I'll eat."

"School?" My grandmother's eyes widen, and for a moment, it looks like they might pop out of her head. "No grandson of mine will be eating in that joke of a cafeteria. Do you know what kind of germs and pesticides are in that sort of food? Do you know how many health codes they‘ve violated?"

I shake my head.

"You will eat what's on your plate," she informs me. "I've had Selma pack your lunch today as well. And I better not find out you didn't eat what she's prepared for you. I want the bag back."

My grandmother is crazy if she thinks I would pick cafeteria gruel over Selma's roast beef grinder. She makes it exactly the way my mother used to. Rare Italian cut...light mustard with a hint of mayo...tomato...two leaves of lettuce, and provolone. That with an apple and a can of cranberry juice leaves me with the best lunch this side of Franklin. "Yes, grandmother." I reluctantly pick up my fork again, and dig into the waffles on my plate. I feel my eyes close...and then...

No you can't look yet!

Justin...what is this?

Oh Marshal...he's been up all morning cooking, just play along.

Happy birthday daddy!

"Justin!"

I gasp and look up from my plate. My grandmother sounds like she's just had a heart attack. "What!"

"Don't slouch."

I groan

********

I didn't have to walk through the doors of Hanson Memorial to realize that it's a world away from Harding. It's twice the size for one. Harding was so tiny...and it was nearly impossible to get a spot on the waiting list unless your family was prominent, or you were super smart. My grandmother steps in front of me and opens the door with a disgusted grunt. She has this look on her face, like we're about to enter the most disgusting place in the world.

"I want you to act like a gentleman, Justin. I know you're perfectly capable. Set a good example for your peers. Lord knows, they could all use an influence such as yourself in a place like this."

"Yes grandmother." I follow her down the hallway, not being able to help but peer in the various classroom doorways. The teachers are all positioned in the front of the room, and the kids look like they'd rather be somewhere else. It seems like a normal school. But...

Oh my god.

I stop in my tracks in front of one of the classrooms, and take a closer look. The kids, they're all dressed differently. Nobody is wearing a suit, or a tie...or dress pants. It's all blue jeans and t-shirts and polo's. There is no dress code here. I feel my blood run cold, and I start to become short of breath. I wheeze a tiny bit, before yanking my inhaler out of my pocket and taking a hit.

"What exactly are you gawking at?"

My grandmother's voice pulls me out of my astonishment, and I look at her. "I..."

"Gawking is rude, Justin," she tells me. "I know you know better than that. Your father had common sense...and I'm sure he passed that quality onto you."

She's right. "Yes, grandmother."

"Come," she orders, turning on her heel.

I follow her. Soon we reach what I assume is the principal's office. I see the lady at the receptionist desk look away from her computer, and her eyes widen when she sees us. My grandmother straightens her top, gives me a warning look and then thrusts the door open.

The queen has arrived.

"Hazel," Grandmother nods at the woman.

"Good morning, Mrs. Timberlake." Hazel flashes her a tight smile and clears her throat a little bit. Then she looks at me. Her eyes linger on me for a moment, seemingly searching for a resemblance between myself and my grandmother. "You must be Justin," she says to me.

"Yes," Grandmother answers for me. "Where is your imbecile of a supervisor, Hazel? Call him now...and stop wasting my valuable time."

I feel bad for Hazel. She's just trying to be nice, and all my grandmother can do is treat her like a piece of garbage. I hate that. She thinks she's so above everybody because of her money and her history. I wish I had the guts to say something to her...but I don't. She's all the family I have now...and I know I need to suck it up and get along with her, no matter what the conditions are like.

Hazel dials somebody on her phone, and a moment later a man walks out of a doorway toward the back of the office. He's very tall...and very businesslike. For a moment, I see my father. He used to wear suits just like that to work all the time. I blink...is it him?

"Good morning, Gertrude," he smiles and approaches us.

No stupid, it's not daddy.

"Lawrence," Grandmother nods, and shakes his hand quickly. "This is my grandson, Justin."

I shake his hand. It's big and warm...full of kindness. For the first time today I feel confident in this place. I smile. "Hello, sir."

"I took the liberty of calling Harding. They told me a lot about you son...about all of your achievements. It seems you were quite the student.

I smile again. "I..."

"He is quite the student," Grandmother interrupts. "That shouldn't come as a surprise to you Lawrence. After all...he is a Timberlake."

I want to hide someplace. Why does my grandmother always have to make a scene? God...I hope this principal guy doesn't hold the fact that my grandmother treats him this way against me. I don't need to be on bad terms with anybody right now. I'm trying to start my life over. I look at the principal again, expecting him to be giving me some kind of dirty look...but he's not. He's still smiling at me. I breath out a sigh of relief.

"Well...I guess I know what I can expect of you academically," he beams. "But what about physically? Do you play any sports? You know...we have an award winning football team here at Hanson, the Wildcats. Maybe you'd be interested in trying out...."

When I entered the ninth grade, my father persuaded me to join the lacrosse team. I was pretty reluctant to do it, because I was so focused on my academics and I didn't' want to be distracted. But like...when it came to sports, my father would always get so excited. He wanted me to do something...so he could go to work and tell everybody that his ‘boy was on the lacrosse team'. So I did it for him...and strangely enough, I ended up liking it. I got pretty good at it too. We went to the championships my second year...but we lost. It was fun though, I got a lot of my friends to take it up. At that school...everybody seemed to follow my lead. Just as I'm about to tell him that Harding didn't offer football but that I did play lacrosse for a few years, my grandmother starts to speak...again.

"He will do no such thing," she snaps. "Justin has set high academic goals for himself this year, and honestly...I'm just appalled that you would even think of such a thing. Honestly Lawrence..."

"You know Gertrude," he cuts her off. "It might be a good way for your boy to fit in around here...if he got on the team." He winks at me. I don't smile. Grandmother would only get angrier.

"That's another thing," she continues. "My grandson doesn't need any of these trashy teenagers hanging around him either. He needs to focus...he needs to work hard." She eyes me disapprovingly. "Or he'll end up in some state funded college like the rest of the ingrates that go here."

Lawrence doesn't lost his composure. It's apparent to me that he's not afraid of my grandmother like the rest of the people in this town. It's like...he understands why she's so bitter or something. I don't really understand, but I'm not about to inquire about it. It's not my business.

"I'll do my best Gertrude," Lawrence promises. He looks back at me. "Well...I guess you have a class to be getting to then, Justin?"

I nod. I'm glad he's broken the tension between himself and my grandmother. All I want to do is go to class, and try to get caught up with everything that's going on. I know I'm going to have to work hard...I can't fall behind. I have to start filling out my college applications in a few months, and I want my GPA to be at least 5.5 or higher. I think I can do it...if I put the effort in. I know I have it in me though, and I know I have to live up to my grandmother's expectations. She's the one providing a roof over my head....I owe it to her to be at the top of my game. "Yes, sir," I say.

My grandmother gives me the once over, and straightens my tie a little bit. "Have a good day," she says quickly. Then she turns on her heel again, and walks briskly out of the office. Now I'm on my own. I'm a little scared...I don't know anybody here...all I have to rely on is myself.

"It's nearly time for the bell," Lawrence speaks up. "You're going to have to see your first period teacher tomorrow...sorry about that."

"Oh, don't be. It‘s not your fault," I say. "My grandmother...she likes to make sure everything is in order."

He laughs heartily. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Come on...I'll show you to your second class."

I follow him out of the office, and shortly after, the bell rings. In Harding, when the bell would tone, everybody would sort of file out of the classrooms slowly...still full of chatter from the last intriguing lesson. This place though...the moment the bell starts to ring, the doors fly open and it's like...a herd of angry cattle charging through the place. Kids are jumping and shouting...running and chasing each other. Girls are squealing about...nothing really. It's so weird. I see a few of them eyeing me too...and then...they sort of point and laugh.

"Nice tie!," somebody shouts.

I feel so stupid right now

***********

We didn't have desks at Harding. We didn't use paper either. All of our work was done on laptops, and we would sit on couches...on floor cushions. It was really really laid back and comfortable. I think it's why I excelled in my academics. I was comfortable...I was well liked. Everybody was my friend there...I was the most popular guy in school. It's weird for me to think that way now, because at the time it didn't really matter. I was too happy with my life and with who I was to care about my status. Here though...it's so much different here. There are so many desks, there is barely room for anything else. And there are so many kids. At Harding there were only ten people to a class. Here...there must be twenty or so. How can anybody learn this way?

"Johnny! Johnny look at the titties on this one!"

I glance behind me and see a boy holding out a copy of Penthouse for all to see. I frown. Apparently they don't care if they learn anything or not, so long as they have their porn. Ingrates...

I almost turn back around, but pause when I see her. Damn, it's that girl. At least...I'm pretty sure it's the same girl I saw yesterday...the one with the dirt on her face. But she doesn't have dirt on her face today. She doesn't look anything like the less than fortunate soul that lives in that tiny house. She looks well groomed...rich even. She has a cheerleading outfit on. The top says WILDCATS in big blue letters. I can already tell, that uniform means a lot in this school. I'm sure she's well liked and popular. Much more than I can say for me. She meets my gaze a moment later, and I see her eyes widen a little. I wave and then she quickly looks away from me like she‘s never seen me before. I can't really be hurt about it though. After all, she basically told me that we couldn't be friends.

The teacher enters the room a few minutes later, and everybody takes their seats. And wouldn't you know it...my cheerleadin' gal is sitting right next to me. I don't' think she realized where she sat, because she looks at me again, and kind of shakes her head.

"Welcome back," the teacher says loudly. Then he scrawls his name across the blackboard. Mr. Pickerello. Mister? Weird...I've never addressed a teacher by their last name before. At Harding, we were instructed to call our teachers by their first names. It was more laid back that way. We could just talk...relate to our teachers. Here though...its definitely not like that. Man, I'm starting to miss Harding more than I thought I would. "Before I inform you about the class requirements, I would like to introduce a student new to our school." He nods at me. "Justin, why don't you come here and introduce yourself."

I hear a few snickers, and I really don't want to get up in front of everybody. But...I'm not going to chicken out. I used to make speeches in school all the time...in front of people far more important than a bunch of football obsessed porno freaks. I get out of my seat and make my way to the front of the room. I look out at the class. Half of them are asleep, and the rest well...they're getting a kick out of my outfit.

"Hey suit boy!," a perky blond cheerleader calls out. "Are you going to a wedding?"

Her comment is followed by a roar of laugher from the rest of the class. I eye the girl I met yesterday...she's laughing along with them. I roll my eyes. "My name is Justin," I tell her.

"Pshh." She rolls her eyes. "Whatever." She waves her hand at me. "Get on with whatever it is."

I look at the teacher. He doesn't really seem to care one way or the other. I know right away...this class is just going to be one boring lecture after the other. But...at least I know it's going to be easy. I'm a master at taking notes from lecture. My first A is well on the way. "I used to live in Bramlin," I say. "And I attended The Harding School."

"Did you go to any weddings then?"

More laughter follows. I realize that none of them are interested in who I am and what I've done in my lifetime. The only thing they're interested in right now, is making fun of me for their own enjoyment. "Thanks," I say quickly. Then I take my seat.

Mr. Pickerello gets up in front of the class again, and starts to go over the class itinerary. It's pretty basic, and I'm surprised because this is an AP class. He says there will be two term papers a marking period, and a homework assignment nightly. Big shocker there. Damn, I'm already bored. My attention wanders from the teacher. This has never happened before. But at Harding...my teachers didn't get up and preach to the class like this. They would sprawl out on the sofa or pull up a floor cushion and ‘discuss' the lesson with us. It was never silent like this...everybody was always participating in the lesson...using their minds. This is just dull...plain and simple.

I glance around the room a bit, trying to take everything in. The other kids are hardly paying attention to what Pickerello is saying. Some are leaning back in their chairs, some are snapping their gum. The girls are filing their nails and writing notes to each other. I can't help but look at my cheerleader again. Damn, I wish I knew her name. I bet it's a pretty one...just like her. I guess she feels me staring at her, because a moment later she looks over at me again. I try to smile at her, but she gives me this disgusted look...like I have a hell of a nerve.

I guess I'll never be good enough for her. Her name is now...the ice queen. She and my grandmother would probably get along famously.

"Mr. Timberlake."

I snap to attention and look at Mr. Pickerello again. "Yes, sir?"

"It seems your head is in the clouds this morning."

I hear the snickering again, and I start to blush. "No, sir," I say to him.

"Well," he smiles. "Would you mind telling me when the declaration of Independence was signed?"

What does this guy think...that I'm some kind of idiot? That has to be the easiest history question I've ever been asked. "It was signed on July 4, 1776."

He nods, but shoots me a disapproving look. "It won't be so easy the next time. Learn to pay attention Mr. Timberlake."

I frown. "Yes. Sorry sir."

"Actually..."

I perk up a little at the sound of her voice. She's looking at me now, and smiling a little. She has a really fantastic smile.

"It was signed on the second or third of July," she corrects me. "They had to send it up and down the coast to be reviewed and signed by other important peoples in legislature. It was officially installed on the fourth...that's why that date is so famous."

Pickerello smiles. "Very good Miss Connor. I must say, I've been looking forward to having you in my AP class this semester," he nods.

I knew that...I just didn't think anybody else would care. Damn it, now I feel foolish. I should have said something. I look at her again. She's smiling at whispering to one of her girlfriends...probably about me and how much of doofus I am. Way to fit in Justin...way to go.

************

This day has been absolute hell. After second period, I guess the word got spread around about me and my suit...because now everybody notices me. They all point and laugh. They call me ‘doofus', ‘urkel', and ‘suit boy'. I can't even count how many times I've been asked ‘when's the wedding?'. I really don't know what the big deal is. It's just a suit...it's just school. Why are they all over my case? Are they that bored...are they that immature?

After History was over, I was amazed to find that it was time for lunch. I looked at my schedule and expected to see a study hall wedged in-between my history class and lunch break, but there was none. How could they not have study hall in this school? Don't they know that I need time to sit and reminisce on what I've learned? Apparently not. Apparently they think that the students in this school don't need to study...or won't study if allowed the time. Ingrates...they're all ingrates at this sorry excuse for a high school.

Since the lunch period is forty five minutes, I decided to use part of the time to my advantage. I figured I would pay my English teacher a visit, since I'd missed her class this morning. I went in there expecting to find some middle aged woman covered in chalk dust, cursing the heavens that school was back in session. I was proved wrong however, when a young intellectual looking woman dropped her watercress sandwich and smiled at me. I introduced myself, and she seemed excited to be shaking my hand. Then she told me she'd heard a lot about me, and that she was friends with my old English teacher, Greg. It was really nice to find out that somebody in this school knows me other than suit boy. She went over the itinerary for the class with me, and it seemed a little challenging. She really knows her stuff and she doesn't' tolerate laziness. She reminds me of every Harding professor I've ever had, and that's great because now I won't have to miss them so much.

But I think that's going to be the only highlight of attending this school..

I haven't been able to warm up to any of the other kids. I tried say hi to this guy who's locker is right near mine but he just ignored me. I guess I should just be thankful that he didn't' make fun of my suit and forget it, but I can't. In my old school I had friends, and I was well liked; but here it' s like I'm this little nobody. I guess part of it has to do with being the new kid, but really...I think my suit ruined most of my chances of being accepted here. I want to blame Grandmother because she made me wear it, but I didn't protest when she made me put it on. I just didn't think. I was used to it, and it's not her fault.

I'm nauseated.

I turn into the bathroom quickly and head straight to the sink. I run the water and splash some on my face. I start to feel a little better, but then I hear more people enter the bathroom. I look up, and immediately recognize a tall muscular looking jock from my history class. He's with his two friends, and when they set eyes on me, they smile in unison. "Hey, Urkel," the jock laughs. "What're you doing in here now huh? It's lunch time...this is our spot."

His two friends start to laugh, and one of them shuts the door and locks it. I swallow hard. Are they going to beat me up? Damn, it's only my first day...it's not my fault that I wore a suit. I'm used to it. Please...don't hurt me. I feel the muscles in my chest begin to tighten. Then I cough, and start to wheeze a little. I pull out my inhaler quickly, and take a hit. I can hear them all laughing at me.

"Aw look!" one of the other boys laughs. "Little Urkie has an inhaler too!"

I shove it back inside my pocket, and shoot them all a pathetic look. "Can I go?," I whimper.

Then the jock slams me up against the wall. I try to push him away, but he's strong...a lot stronger than I am.

"I saw you lookin' at her, Urkel," he whispers. "You think you can look at my girl like that and get away with it?" He shakes me roughly by the scuff of my shirt, and I'm so scared that I drop my lunch bag on the floor.

"Oopsie," he grins. Then he steps on the bag forcefully, crushing my sandwich with his foot. Damn it...that sandwich was the one positive thing I had going for me today. It figures it would get ruined along with everything else.

"W-who is she?" I ask him.

He slaps my face a little bit. "Don't play dumb." Shoves me to the floor. "You know who she is. You wouldn't stop looking at her all period. And if you do it again...your lunch isn't the only think I'll step on, Urkel."

I wait for him to punch me...or kick me, but he never does. He just gives me another warning look and says; "Now get outta here, before I kick your ass."

I hear his friends start to laugh, and I quickly get up from the floor. I race over to the door, and try to open it...but it's still locked. They're laughing harder now. I turn the lock, and finally get the door open. Then I run out, like a little pussy. I'm safe now...but it doesn't' matter. I'm still a loser, and I'm sure it's not the last time I'm going to have an encounter with that guy.

Damn my lunch...my bag is still in the bathroom, but there is no way I'm going back in there. Grandmother is going to be so mad. Oh well...I guess I shouldn't be worrying about it. It's just a bag...she'll get over it.

I guess I'll just go buy lunch.

***********

The cafeteria food at Harding was never this bad. Sure, there were some bad days...like meatloaf Mondays. But our English professor, Greg, would always let us order pizza. He was so cool. We wouldn't even go down to the café on Mondays. We would eat pizza and have our discussion in his classroom. But the teachers in this school aren't like that. They could care less what the food is like here.

And from the smell of it...I'm sure it's pretty bad.

"Bean casserole?" The lunch lady asks me.

"Um...no thanks," I say. "Do you have any like, whole wheat sandwiches or anything like that?"

She looks at me like I have three heads. "What do you think this is kid...the Ritz Carlton Hotel?"

I hear a burst of laughter come from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. That girl is there...then it dawns on me. That must be the girl the jock was talking about. She has to be. She was the only girl I was looking at in history. Damn, she must be dating that guy. I shudder and quickly look away from her. "I'll just take the chicken sandwich," I say, even though it probably tastes like rubber. The lady plops my request onto my tray in disgust and I make my way further down the lunch line. Hmm...they have jello...fruit cups, and cookies. I take the cookies. They are hard as a rock. At Harding, they would bake the cookies fresh in the morning, and by the time lunch hit they would be moist and chewy.

"Hey..."

She's talking to me...but I don't look at her. I'm afraid if I do, that jock guy will show up and beat the daylights out of me. I move further down the line...I take two chocolate milks, and then I pay the cashier. Good...I'm away from her. I make my way over to the condiments table and take three napkins, a fork and a knife. They are plastic utensils. I frown. We had silver at Harding. This place is like a prison.

"Hey."

She's back again. She puts her tray down next to mine and starts to fill up on ketchup and napkins. I still don't say anything to her though. I'm trying to ignore her...

"You weren't this quiet yesterday," she informs me. "How's the first day going?"

I sigh and pick up my tray. "Like you don't know, miss almighty."

She sends me a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You better watch it," I say. "Some of your friends might see you talking to me if you aren't careful."

I walk out of the kitchen and make my way to one of the tables, all the while hearing: "NICE SUIT!" and ‘HEY IT'S URKEL!'. I hate it here. I hate it. I eventually find a place to sit toward the back of the cafeteria...where there is nobody around. It's so weird, eating alone. In Harding, I always sat at the ‘popular' table. I was always surrounded by my peers, and I would always end up telling some story that would send them into hysterics. I was the life of the party then.

Now I'm just a loser.

I unwrap my chicken sandwich and scrunch up my nose at the sight of it. The bun is wrinkled...it's obviously been nuked one too many times. Grandmother would definitely not approve. I wonder if I should even eat it...but then...I don't want to be hungry for the rest of the day. With a reluctant sigh, I pick up the sandwich and take a bite. Just as I thought...rubber.

"Everybody knows you're not supposed to eat the chicken." That girl plops down in the seat adjacent from me, and I pause mid-chew. "Like...it's not really chicken. It's just like...breaded rubber. That's why the girls and I just eat fries, and hit up Mickey D's after school." She pulls her hair out of the pony tail and runs her hands through it. It falls at her shoulders and shines when the light hits it. It falls into position like magic. It's perfection.

I think she's beautiful. Yesterday...yesterday she was just pretty. But today, she looks like a totally different person. She looks like someone Michelangelo would paint. Her eyes are so deep, so intense. I think if given the chance, I could stare into them for hours and see things nobody else has ever seen before. Like miracles, and great works of art, and brilliant beautiful things. But I'll never have that chance, because I can't get that close to her. Not because she won't let me, but because I won't let myself.

"I don't eat fries," I tell her, ripping my eyes from her beautiful chocolate orbs. I hate fried foods. That stuff is bad for you...full of cholesterol and calories. I did a report on it last semester, about the effects fast food has on your body. I found out some pretty gross stuff, and after I gave my presentation, my own teacher stopped going to McDonalds.

"What do you mean?" she asks me, as she pops one into her mouth. "Everybody eats french fries, Justin."

"Not me," I say. I take another bite into the sandwich, just to spite her.

"Well you should just bring your lunch," she tells me. "You'll be better off. Tomorrow is fish stick day...gross gross."

"I had a bagged lunch," I tell her. "But, I kinda lost it."

She laughs at me. "How in the world did you lose your lunch?"

I don't meet her gaze. "When somebody took it away."

"Wait...what? Somebody stole it?"

I nod.

"Damn," she says. "Who the hell would do that? That's so...childish."

I look at her again. I don't know why I'm telling her all of this. Why would she care? She's dating the bastard. "Your boyfriend did it," I snap. I probably shouldn't have. She'll probably go and tell him and then he'll beat my ass.

She laughs a little. "Boyfriend? What boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend."

Now I'm confused. "But he said..."

"Ricky right?" she interrupts. "From history class?"

"I guess that's his name," I nod. "How did you know?"

She rolls her eyes. "Because he's been after me since ninth grade, and he tries to act all tough in front of any guy that has a thing for me."

I bite my lip and blush a little. "Who said I have a thing for you?"

She smiles a little. "I'll see you later okay? The girls are going to be mad if I let their fries get colder." She gets up and starts away from me, but then looks back. "By the way...what's with the suit?"

I want to die. "It's the proper attire for school. I've always worn it."

She laughs. "The ‘proper attire'?" she mocks. "Man, you are such a dork."

I watch her walk away. I feel worse than I have all day. I want her to like me enough to be my friend, and...she seems to a little bit I guess. But she still thinks I'm a loser too. She'll probably go outside now, and talk about me to all her little cheerleader girlfriends. My reputation will be even deeper in the gutter by then end of the day.. and tomorrow will be even worse.

Out of all the rooms in this house, I think Grandmother's dining room is the fanciest. She has very old, very valuable antiques littering the room and the walls. The china cabinet contains priceless family keepsakes, like great great grandmother Mable's wedding china, and Grandmother's own wedding keepsakes. Grandmother Mable's china has been passed down to the eldest daughter in each generation. Since my father was an only child, I think my mother was supposed to inherit it, in hopes that one day I would have a daughter of my own so it could be passed onto her. But I guess...I guess I'll have to do my own passing down now.

I lean my head against my fist, and push my peas and carrots around my plate. I haven't even touched my steak, and I feel bad because I know that Selma only made steak because she knows how much I love red meat. When I first got here she asked me to make a list of all the things I liked most to eat, because I guess she felt that I could use some cheering up. And I guess it helped a little, because everything on the list was stuff my mom made for me. But after a day like today, my appetite is basically nonexistent. I want to tell Grandmother I'm not hungry, but I'm sure she won't want to listen to my excuses. Grandmother is a no nonsense type of person, and what she says goes.

The rest of my day went exactly as I thought it would. After lunch ended, I went to my French class, hoping that it would go a little bit better than my other classes had. I figured it might, because fourth year language classes are mostly for the die hard students that want to know the material, or for the students that speak it. I speak it, so that's why I took it. But five minutes into the class, I quickly realized that none of the other kids were fluent, they were simply conscientious. They passed the other three years because they tried and studied and did their homework. As if the class wasn't remedial enough, who should I have seen walk in three minutes after the bell rang, but my cheerleadin' gal. Yeah, she came in all high and mighty with a couple of her little cheerleading girlfriends. At first I thought ‘wait...maybe she'll talk to me and introduce me to her friends'. And so I waved at her, but she didn't acknowledge me. She looked right through me, and headed to the back of the classroom to sit with the other jocks and ‘cool‘ people. I felt so stupid for thinking that she'd changed her attitude between periods. I can't trust anybody in this world.

The French professor is cool. She went around the classroom and asked each student a question in French, and I think she knew that most of them wouldn't know how to answer her. A few of them did of course, but not nearly enough to please her. I think that's why, when she called on me and I responded to her with an answer and another question, her face lit up like the Eiffel Tower does during Fête Nationale. The rest of the class looked at me like I was crazy or something, but I didn't care. It was a time to show her what I was capable of, and I'm glad I did it. When class was over, the professor pulled me aside and asked me if I'd be interested in being a tutor, and even though I was flattered, I told her I would have to think about it. I don't know what I'm going to have time for this year, because I have to start filling out my college applications soon and take care of some financial things I have going on. But it would be cool though. I'm sure I'd be able to make a couple of friends that way.

My Environmental Science class was the last one of the day, and also the most disappointing. I was expecting it to be new and exciting, because I love science and there is always something new you can learn from it. But I forgot to remember the important fact that I go to public school now. Yes, slow moving public school that teaches material that I learned two years ago. We even have the same book program that Harding did, and so now...I'm going to spend half the year being bored out of my mind when I should be learning new, interesting things. I mean yeah, it's an easy A, but I'm one of those weirdo's who hates an easy A. I like challenges. I like learning and finding out things and producing results to the best of my ability. But I can't do it in this class.

Oh yeah, she's in that class too. And oh yeah, she ignored me that time too.

I don't know why I let her bug me so much. It was only the first day of school and I have yet to find out what her name is. I only know that the jock guy hates me because I looked at her the wrong way, and that she likes to play mind games with me when she‘s without her friends, and ignore me the rest of the time. If I was back home, and at Harding, I know I would just laugh it off. But this is different. I'm new, I'm alone and I'm uncomfortable. When I met her at her house the other day, I thought I'd made a friend...somebody I could talk about my problems with. But no. No, life can't be that easy. It's been going downhill since I left home, and it will continue to go down hill as long as I keep thinking about her. I need to just forget it. But damn it, there's just something about that girl...

"I want you to eat all of your vegetables, Justin."

I look up to meet my grandmother's gaze. She's staring at me, with a displeased expression on her face. She doesn't' care that I had a hard first day. She doesn't care that I want to crawl inside myself and never come out again. She only cares that I go to school, present myself well, and get into a pristine university so she can show me off to her friends at the lady's club. I know I cant' talk to her, so I simply nod and say "Yes, ma'am," before scooping a healthy portion of peas and carrots onto my fork.

Grandmother places the silk napkin on her lap and slides herself closer to the table. "So, how were classes today?" She takes a sip of her wine and bite out of her roll. "Are the professors well rounded?"

I cut into my steak, and take a deep breath before answering her. "The professors are informative, but I've covered most of the material they are planning on teaching," I explain. "School won't be much of a challenge."

"It's all for the best," she tells me. "It will be even easier for you to get into a good university, if you have an excellent GPA this year. Don't let your guard down young man. You still need to put all of your effort into your schooling." She narrows her eyes at me. "And I know you will."

"I will," I reassure her, but don't smile. I look down at my plate again, and eat everything that has been laid out for me, even though I don't want to. I only do it to please Grandmother and nothing more. Once I'm finished, Selma comes forward to collect my plates and asks me if I'd like some sorbet, but I tell her I don't think so, and grandmother is happy because she thinks anything sweet rots the mind anyway.

I feel Fritz rubbing against my leg, and I know he wants to go for a run. I scratch his head, and smile a little. "Grandmother, would it be convenient for me to take Fritz for a run?"

She glances at the old chestnut grandfather clock in the corner and sighs. "I suppose, just don't be too long. You need your rest if you're going to get up for school tomorrow."

"Thanks." I get up from my chair and push it back in. Fritz runs around and yaps at my feet, excited that we're going to go out. "I'll just be like ten or fifteen minutes."

"You should teach that dog not to bark," she sighs. "Really Justin, it's such a nuisance."

I open my mouth to stand up for my beloved animal, but then I decide against it. I can't argue with her, because I feel guilty. "I'll try my best," I tell her. I leave my grandmother in the dining room, and walk into the kitchen to grab Fritz's leash off the wall. Once I get it on him, I practically burst out of the house. I'm thankful to be out of there, because I felt like I was being smothered. Grandmother expects so much of me, and sometimes I don't think I'll ever be good enough for her. So, I relish the moments when I can just be on my own and be free of her.

Fritz and I run down the street, and pause when we come to the intersection that separates Quaker from the neighboring community. If I go one way, I'll wind up on a street similar to mine...but if I go the other way...

If I go the other way I'll wind up at her house.

"Maybe I'm nuts Fritz."

And he looks up at me and whines because he hates it when I stop him from running.

"Should we go?"

He barks, so I try to make myself believe that he's said yes so I won't have to admit that I really want to see if she's home. We go down her way, and I almost wince when I set my gaze on the run down neighborhood. It looks even worse now that it's night time. The houses look sad, and lonely; and when I get to her house it seems to be the loneliest of them all. The lights are out, and there is no laughter like there was the other day. I'm disappointed that she's not home, because I really wanted to try and work something out with her, although I know she doesn't deserve the time of day from me. "Come on boy," I say sadly. "Let's go home."

"A doggie!"

I recognize the voice from the other day, and I turn around to see the same small children that Fritz was playing with. He starts to whine and bark because he wants to play with them. But it's much too dark to let him off his leash now. "You can come pet him," I tell the kids. "But it's too late to roughhouse now okay?"

"I like doggies!" the boy giggles, and comes over to pet Fritz who in turn, starts licking his face.

"Can I help you?"

I gasp, and look up. I half expect her to be standing there, but instead I see an older woman standing before me. "Um, I was looking for somebody."

"Sammie, Carley, vamano," she orders, and the kids immediately do as their told. "Miguel's daughter is at practice. She'll be home later on." She shoos the kids inside, and starts to follow behind them. "Should I tell her you came by?"

"Oh...no," I sigh. "I'll just see her tomorrow."

The woman nods, and then goes into the house. Fritz sits down and whines a little, upset that his new friends have left him. I reach down and scratch his head. "It's okay boy," I reassure him. "I miss my friends too." And he licks my face. Then we continue on our way. We jog all the way back to my grandmother's house, and all the way there I think about how much I needed a friend tonight. I could call Jack, but I don't know...I feel weird calling my friends back home. I'm different from them now. I don't live like them and I don't do the same things, so calling Jack would be pointless. I need somebody that relates to me...but everybody here seems to hate me for no reason at all.

I miserably push the door open, and I find my grandmother sitting in the den reading one of her many books. "I'm back," I sigh. "But I think I'm going to get to bed now."

"Good idea," she says, before picking up a small pile of papers from the marble telephone table beside her. "But here, I almost forgot...the rest of the forms from the lawyers came today. Try to look them over before you go to bed, so I can send them out tomorrow, okay?"

I step closer to her and take the papers out of her hand, knowing what they are before my hand closes around them. Terms of inheritance. Terms of life insurance. Why do the fates hate me so much? This is the last thing I need tonight. "Can't it wait?" I ask her. "I'm awfully tired."

"You shouldn't avoid the reality of what is," she reminds me, as she did when she came to pick me up from Jack's three months ago. "There's nothing you can do to change what happened, I've told you that before. Signing those papers, is one more step to moving past all of this. And I know this has all been very hard on you , Justin. But you're a strong, intellectual young man and I know you can find it inside of you to hold your head high and be mature about this."

I bite my lip, and sigh heavily. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Justin." She sets her focus back on her book, and doesn't give me a second look.

I motion for Fritz to follow me, and I walk up the stairs and into my room. Fritz runs to his little dog bed by the window and curls up. Soon, his eyes close and I'm left alone to think about it all. I sit down at my desk and start to review the papers, even though I know what they say. The lawyers explained it all to me very carefully when it first happened. I know what I'm entitled to, and I know I'm going to be just fine when I graduate. But I don't care. I don't want it. I just want everything to go back to how it was before. I want to wake up in the morning and eat breakfast with my family. I want to go home to my house. I want to sleep in the room I grew up in. But...but I can't. Never again.

Because they're dead. And it's my fault.

"It's not fair!" I scream the words, and I throw the papers against the wall. Fritz perks up, and looks at me like I'm crazy. "Everything was fine!" I say to him. "You know it was boy. You know it was."

Fritz puts his head in-between his paws and lets out a sigh.

I sit down on the bed and put my head in my hands. The tears come quickly, and I'm alone so I don't care if I'm crying. Normally, I don't let my emotions out anymore because Grandmother thinks crying is a sign of weakness. It's only times like this, when I'm alone in my room, that I can be honest with myself. I lean back, and let myself fall onto the bed. I grab at my curls, and run my fingers through them...trying to remember the way her hand used to feel when she did this. I'm starting to forget things like that...little things. My mom's smile, and the way her perfume smelled. My father's laugh, and the sound of his footsteps. I want to remember...I try to remember. Everyday I try, but I just can't. I'm forgetting them.

I didn't ask for this.

I close my eyes, and try to push everything out of my head, but it doesn't work. The memories flood my mind, and all I can see is what happened...all I can hear is their screams, but I can't help them. I can't do anything but save my own life for my own selfish reasons. I feel something wet on my face...something other than my tears; and when I open my eyes, Fritz is there slobbering all over me. I pull him close to me, and cry into his soft white fur. Then he leans into me like he always does, and buries his face into the crevice between my neck and shoulder. And I fall asleep like this. In my good after school clothes, no blanket...and I don't care.

***************

"Have you guys seen that new kid?" Krissy takes a drag of her cigarette and flicks her blond hair back over her shoulder, before tapping some of her ashes into the sink. "The one who wears the suits?"

Tiffany laughs out loud and helps herself to one of Krissy's cigarettes. "You mean, Urkel?"

"Oh, that's Urkel! Ted kept going on about this dork they nicknamed Urkel last night at the party...but I was too lazy to find out who he was," Krissy says. "Oh shit wait, here she comes."

We all turn toward the doorway, as the footsteps draw closer to our little break room. We know who it is, because she's been coming to this bathroom at the same time everyday since we were sophomores.

Enter Mona Warthingford. She's a frumpy overweight girl, that's a year behind us. She's very unpopular, very fat, and very smelly. When she smiles, she flashes a set of golden yellow teeth, and none of us feel sorry for her. But I never say anything to her. I just look on as the other girls make fun of her...like right now.

Krissy smiles her perfect mischievous smile. "Hi Mona," she says, a sweetly sick tone in her perky voice.

Mona makes her way to one of the sinks and turns the water on. "Oh, hi Krissy."

"Hey Mona," Tiffany chimes in. "Do you know what's for lunch today? I forgot mine at home so I have to buy."

I cringe.

"Hot dogs," she says happily, as she lathers up her hands. "And fries."

"Oh god, that makes me want to orgasm!" Krissy throws back her head and moans with pleasure. "Have you ever had an orgasm, Mona?"

After rinsing off her hands, Mona turns to face Krissy. She's looking particularly unkempt today. Her hair is scraggly and frizzy, and her face is covered in big fat pimples. Somebody please give this girl a makeover! "An orgasm?"

"Yeah," Tiffany butts in yet again, and blows smoke in Mona's face. "You know, when a guy sticks it in just right..."

"I have to go now..." Mona grimaces, and then scurries away.

And I'm sorry to say, even I am nearly in tears with my laughter.

 

Once our laughter dies down a little, Heather smiles, and brings back our original topic of conversation. She takes a drag of the cigarette we've been sharing and says: "Yeah, Urkel is a weirdo. You know, I think he's got a thing for Meredith too." She looks at me and snickers a little. "You're such a heartbreaker, Mere."

I frown and snatch the cigarette away from my best friend, pissed off that she would sell me out in front of our other squad members.. "He doesn't have a thing for me," I mutter and take a puff. "I haven't even talked to him," I lie.

"Oh come on!" Heather rolls her eyes at me. "He was so staring at you in history yesterday. I know you saw him too...you kept telling me what a weirdo he was."

I look at our other two companions for help, but they don't look sorry for me at all. Their eyes are lit up, and I know they're amused by all of this. It's a change for them, a big one. We don't get too many new kids in our school, and when we do...they're never as different as Justin Timberlake is.

"We saw it too," Tiffany points out. "We're in the same class as you. Thank god he wasn't there today. The guys would have killed him."

Krissy smiles. "I would have paid to see that."

"And what's with those suits!" Heather exclaims. "It's like he's living back in 1947 or something. And the hair is totally totally out of whack. He's like disco fever meets the Beaver or something."

The other girls laugh, but I don't join in. Normally I would, but I don't know...I just feel bad I guess. I have no idea why. They're right. He's a dork. A weird dork, who wears suits and has a strange personality. "You guys should cut him a break," I find myself saying. "He's new here, and where he comes from they probably do things differently. You know, me and Heather were newbie's freshman year."

Tiffany gives me an odd look. "Mere, we were all new freshman year."

"Dork," Heather nudges me. "But seriously, don't be cruel to Mere guys. It's not her fault she has a crush."

"Uh oh, Ricky's not gonna like that," Krissy giggles. "You know how possessive he is, and between Urkel and him...I just don't know how the fight would turn out." She rolls her eyes sarcastically, and finishes the last drag of her cigarette.

I step back from my three friends and fold my arms under my breasts. "Ricky can go fuck himself," I grunt. "And I don't have a crush."

"Ricky doesn't have to fuck himself when you're around," Tiffany snaps.

I look at Heather quickly. My heart is racing and my eyes are wide. Sometimes I really hate being friends with these girls. They're all so fake, and greedy. They'll be your friend one minute, but as soon as you embarrass yourself or say something they don't' agree with it's like your this horrible person.

Heather smiles a little, and I know she's going to try and change the subject before things get ugly. "I wonder how big he is?" she laughs.

Krissy cocks her head to the side. "Ricky?"

"No, dumb ass. Urkel," Heather corrects her.

"Oh, shit," Krissy laughs. "I bet it's one of those long, skinny things that just hangs there limp all the time."

"Are you kidding?" Tiffany shakes her head in disgust. "You can't give him that kind of praise, Kris. The thing is probably three inches long."

"Oh yeah!" Heather laughs out loud. "I bet it's like a big toe."

And we all say "Ewwww", in unison.

"That's disgusting," I say, with a shake of my head. "That's just...wrong."

"Yeah a big toe," Krissy cackles. "And last night he probably went home and jacked it off to a vision of you, Mere."

"We so need to find out how big it is," Tiffany decides. "Meredith, Ricky likes you. Tell him to pants Urkel in the hallway or something."

I start to sweat. I can't say no to them, because if I do they'll get pissed and start to treat me like garbage. The worst thing they can do is shun me, and they know it. Being in their circle is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Because of them, I have friends, I have boyfriends. I'm respected by my peers, and I can get away with mostly anything. Losing that would mean the end of my life as I know it. But at the same time, I cant' go and tell Ricky to do that to the poor guy. I know he'll do it. Ricky loves to pull that kind of crap. "I...I have to go to class." I put out my cigarette and start to head for the door.

"You're such a wimp, Mere," I hear Tiffany call back to me, and I stop myself from leaving. I turn back around to face them. Of course, Tiffany and Krissy look pissed because I've ruined their fun. But Heather, being my best friend, looks like her mind is at work. She's trying to come up with yet another split second idea to dig me out of the hole I'm in.

"Meredith wait...I know," she smiles. "You have class with him again, don't you?"

"You have more than one class with him!" Tiffany smirks. "That's so gross."

"We had French with him last period," Heather informs the other girls with a smile. "You should see him in there. The teacher wants to fuck him."

"Ooo!" Krissy exclaims and slides off the top of the sink. "Mere, ask him! He'll tell you...he likes you!"

"What!" I look at them like they've all gone crazy. "No way!"

Tiffany opens her mouth to convince me why I should ask him, but then the bell rings and I've never been more thankful. I rush out of there, and Heather is immediately at my side, jabbering something about meeting her in the parking lot after class. I nod, and mumble that I'll be there. I'm almost away...but then.

"Hey," Tiffany slides up next to me and gives me a little nudge. "Don't be a little bitch. Just ask him and fill us in later on okay?" She doesn't give me a chance to tell her off either, she jogs a little further up the hallway and catches up with Krissy. Then Krissy says something, they start laughing, and disappear around the corner.

"I'll see you!" Heather calls out to me, before turning and running down the opposite way. "Okay?"

"Yeah," I force a smile and wave to her. Then she opens a class room door and walks inside. The second bell rings, and I know I'm going to be late, but I don't care. My next class is environmental science, and even though I know I have to do well in this class in order to graduate I still don't want to be there. Science is so...drab and boring. I'd rather be in English, being whisked away to magical ancient worlds, or to modern futuristic worlds with flying cars and aliens that speak all different languages. But English was first period, so unfortunately I have no choice.

I end up reaching Mr. Felp's room about ten minutes later, because I've been walking so slowly. I peer in the door's window, and I swallow hard, because I see him standing at the front of the class. He's looking down at the textbook in his hand and moving his free one in the air. I know he's lecturing already. Damn, this is gonna be ugly. I hold my breath and open the door.

And every head turns my way.

"Why Miss Conner," Mr. Felp shuts the book in his hand and shoots me a sarcastic smirk. "How nice of you to stop by this afternoon. I hope the scheduled time for my class hasn't interrupted anything you might have had going on."

I feel my face turn red, and I bite my lip as I swallow back the fear in my throat. "I'm sorry for being late, Mr. Felps."

His sarcastic smirk falls into an angry, displeased one, and I know it's time for me to get what I deserve. "Miss Conner, if you insist on keeping up your tardiness you might as well save yourself the effort, not show up, and take your F in pride. I put up with this last year when I had you, and I'm not going to do it again."

The whole class seems to go 'ooo' at once, and I'm mortified. I look around, and I'm so thankful when I see Jenny Lawrence, another friend of mine, seated at the back of the class. She laughs at me a little, then rolls her eyes and points the empty seat beside her. I feel relief begin to take over me, and I start to make my way to the back of the class room, but then....

"Miss Conner."

I groan a little, and turn back around. "Yes, sir."

"We have assigned seating in my classroom, and you missed your chance to pick your own seat by being late." He smiles, and I know he's loving this. "So, you can sit there." And he points to a desk in the second row. I look... and then...oh god...

Justin is sitting at that desk. His face is buried in a book though, and the only thing I can see right now is his massive afro. After a moment he looks up from the book. Then he spots me and frowns a little, before returning to his reading. I hear the other kids start to laugh, and I wish like hell I hadn't been late today. If I hadn't, I would have blended right in; and Mr. Felps wouldn't' have cared where I was sitting. God, I'm going to kill Heather for dragging me into the bathroom. I really need to stop smoking.

"Urkel," I hear somebody say it very quickly, and the class roars with laughter.

It causes me to lighten up a bit, and then I make a smart comment as I've been known to do when I'm in an embarrassing situation. "And I'm Laura Winslow." Then more laughter ensues, but this time they're laughing with me...not at me, and I smile. I've dug myself out of the hole. I look at Justin, but he hasn't reacted to the joke. He's still staring at the book, and I wonder if he's really reading, or simply trying to hide his emotions from the rest of the class.

"Settle down," Mr. Felps orders, and then shoots me another disapproving look. "We don't have all day, Miss Conner."

I sigh, and reluctantly make my way over to the desk. Thankfully, this is a science classroom, so the desks are much wider, providing space for lab work. The only downfall is you have to sit in pairs, which means that for the rest of the semester I'm going to have to sit next to Justin. But hey, he's smart right? Maybe if I warm up to him, he'll be nice and help me pass. And I need to pass. I drape my book bag over the back of the stool and take my seat, before yanking out my notebook. I glance at Justin, but doesn‘t lift his gaze from the book. Damn, this science book is far from exciting. I should know. I took this class last year, and failed. That's why I'm here. Fate really loves to fuck me over sometimes.

He's wearing a suit again. Yesterday it was navy blue, with little gold cufflinks and matching trousers. Today it's a chocolate brown blazer with a matching tie, slacks, and a white button down dress shirt. Jesus. How can he be comfortable that way? I hear Mr. Felps begin to lecture again, and I'm immediately bored out of my mind. All I hear is ‘Wah wah wah...,' like in the Peanuts cartoons when the kids are in school. I try to amuse myself with something. My pen...my paper...hmm, pen and paper...

This could be interesting.

I silently rip a piece of paper out of my notebook, hoping like hell this will work. If this works, Tiffany and Krissy will think I'm a goddess. A suit again? I write. Didn't you learn your lesson yesterday? Then I nudge him a little. He looks at me, and shoots me a confused glare. Then I slide the paper over to him, and smile a little bit.

He looks at the page, and makes a stupid face at me but he doesn't write back. He slides the paper away from him, and starts to pay attention to Mr. Felps' boring lecture. Man, no way. He's not going to ignore me. But...what can I do? Hmm. I eye his notebook. It's one of those really fancy leather ones that you buy at Staples when you're a big shot executive. Why would he bring one of those to school? My mischievous side starts to take over immediately. I take my pen, and draw a big line across the front of his notebook cover. Then he gasps and looks over at me, like he wishes I were dead. His eyes are cold and angry, and I swallow hard. Maybe I shouldn't have done that...

He yanks the page towards him angrily and scribbles something down on it, before shoving it my way again.

What the hell is your problem?

Nothing, sorry about that. I just want to talk to you. I can get you a new notebook. I write back.

For a moment he hesitates, and I worry that he's just going to ignore me again, but then he slides the page over to himself and jots down a response. Then he shoves the paper back over to me, without giving me a second glance.

I can get my own things, thank you. And there's nothing to talk about, so just leave me alone.

I respond: Oh come on. Look, I'm sorry about that I really am. I'm just curious about your suits, that's all. I mean, nobody else wears them here besides you. If you stopped wearing them, people might cut you a little more slack.

My grandmother makes me wear them. My clothes don't account for who I am.

I smile a little. The little bugger is a lot tougher than I thought he was. I start to write another sarcastic comment on the paper, but then the girl in front of me turns around and hands me a pile of papers. I sigh. Great. I gotta put the fun on hold, for the moment anyway.

"I'm passing out a worksheet that you need to work on together until the end of the period." Mr. Felps announces, taking a seat behind his desk. "Talk quietly about the work, and if you have any questions you may approach my desk."

Justin of course, doesn't hesitate. He immediately starts working on the paper, paying me no mind. I look at my own worksheet...conversions. Yikes. I'm horrible at conversions...but I bet Justin is great at them. I crane my neck slightly, trying not to make myself obvious as I try to see his answers.

But of course, he's prepared.

"Do you mind?," he whispers in annoyance, covering his paper so I can't see it. "Stop copying me, and do your own work."

"Well, I wouldn't be trying to copy you if you weren't smart," I counter. "You should be flattered."

He doesn't' answer.

I get bored very quickly. I don't know how to do the work, the guy sitting next to me is a geek with an afro, and the only girl worth talking to in this class is sitting in the very back of the room. I look over at the braniac again, and since I'm so bored, and since this class is far from over...I decide to make another attempt to be his friend. I mean hey, it can't be that bad. It's not like I would talk to the kid around my friends. Lord. No way. "Hey." I nudge him with my elbow. "Hey, um...Justin."

And he drops his pencil. It rolls across the desk and stops just inches from my own notebook. It's one of those skinny little lead pencils that you have to keep refilling all the time. Damn, that refill lead is expensive too. Stupid rich boy. Oh wait, no...I mean, smart rich boy.

"What. Do you. Want?," he mutters, pissed off that I've stopped him from completing his assignment again. His steely blue eyes bore into my own, and I stare back at them. They're different...nice. I think I might be able to stare into them all day if given the chance. Actually, now that I'm looking at him more closely, he doesn't seem all that cold. Sure, he‘s annoyed, but I can tell that normally, Justin has a sweet, gentle quality about him. Like he just needs to be hugged, or cuddled. Normally I think that kind of stuff is pretty cheesy but somehow it fits with him. Like I'd be willing to do it...with him.

What am I saying?

"I was just hoping that maybe..."

He cuts me off with a angry laugh. "That I could maybe, let you copy my work? Or...give you the answers, because I'm the biggest dork in school and that's the stereotype you know, to copy the dork‘s paper?"

I blink.

"Typical public school this place is." He shakes his head and picks up his pencil again. "Really, I should have listened to my grandmother and gone to Vermillion."

I laugh a little, even though it's mean...but hey, he's giving me the opportunity and he's not being the nicest person to me either. "Just like you listened to her about your suits?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "What exactly, is your problem with my attire?"

"Attire." I choke on my laughter. "You're making it worse on yourself you know."

"Just stop bothering me," he mutters and looks back to his work. "Or I'll tell the professor."

Professor? This kid is definitely from another world. The teachers in this school suck, plain and simple, and they're lucky if we end up referring to them as teachers at all. We prefer to call them assholes, or fuck heads, depending on the day. I shrug. "Like it matters. He hates me anyway."

"You must be very proud of that." He smiles but he doesn't look back at me. "Along with the four or five other classes you're probably already failing."

"Now who's being stereotypical, Justin?"

He draws in a long breath, and I know this is probably as worked up as he gets. I can't picture the kid blowing up, throwing shit around like some of the other guys I know. So instead of getting wide eyed, and cowering in my seat, I remain calm when he says:

"I know your type. You know why you were late to class? You were probably out back, smoking a stogie with your little cheerleading pals, cracking jokes about the new guy in the weird suit. So stop trying to guilt trip me into feeling sorry for you. It's not my fault that you can't pass a simple science course. I have no sympathy for you...none," he sends me an icy, cold glare, before hunching back over his paper again.

"Geez," I say, with a nonchalant yawn. "What happened to the nice, dorky kid with the frizzy dog?"

He gets defensive. "He's a Bichon."

Once again, I try my hardest not to laugh. "Sorry. A Bichon Frizzy."

"Frise."

"You're really...something else Justin," I chuckle.

But he says nothing else to me. I think he's pissed off, or being stubborn, or whatever it is. Oh well, it's really not worth it trying to be nice to him anyway. Its obvious he doesn't' want to help me out, so hey...why should I try to help him out and be friendly? I decide it's time to try my work for myself. Hey, I took this class last year right? Surely I remember something. I look down at the paper, and take a deep, confident breath.

29.92 inches of mercury (Hg) equal how many millibars (mb)?

Huh?

Apply what you learned to complete these metric conversions:

7meters(m) = _____ kilometers(km) 85 Liters(L) = ______ kiloliters(kL)

2.3 L = ______ milliliters(mL) 3.2 kilograms(kg) = ______ grams(g)

1750 g = _____ kg 250 centimeters(cm) = ______ m

I whimper. The shit might as well be written in Chinese, because I have no idea what the hell a kiloliter is. I rest my elbows on the table top and lean my head against my hands. "Stupid," I say under my breath, and begin to doodle senselessly on my worksheet.

And then I hear him chuckle.

I look over at him. He's still working on his paper, but this time he has a smug, proud smile plastered on his face. I'd slap it off of him, but god...he's so damn innocent. I don't know why I keep thinking that. Really it's sick. Really, Heather would pull my hair and tell me what an idiot I'm being right now, but I can't help it. I can't help how I feel. I sigh. I think I'm going to have to drop this class, and take like, God, remedial Chemistry or something...

He's still laughing.

This time I shoot him a dirty look. "That's right, let's all laugh at the stupid girl."

After a moment, he finally looks over at me. "I'm the only one laughing, in case you haven't noticed."

"Whatever," I mutter miserably, and write my name at the top of my paper. "Just go...be your braniac self."

"You know," he continues, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "You never told me your name."

"Right," I say, bitterly. "And I never will."

He sighs at my stubbornness. "What don't you understand," he says softly, and shakes his head. "This work, it's like...grammar school easy."

He's making me feel stupider with each passing moment. Really, I never thought a kid in his situation would ever make me feel like less of a person. I guess I don't know him at all. I guess I still have a lot to learn about life, and people...especially people I don't really know. "It's not easy for me," I tell him, sucking in my bottom lip so he wont see it trembling. "Sorry I'm not this big intellectual. I'm sorry I'm not as good as you are."

He chews the end of his pencil for a few moments, seemingly deep in thought, before he responds. "Look, I never meant to come off that way." He frowns at me. It's a guilty frown, and it makes me feel a little bit better. It means I'm still cooler than him in his book, and that's a good thing. I can still intimidate. I'm still in control. "I've had a hard couple of days," he continues. "And you know, I've tried to be your friend from the beginning. You haven't been the nicest."

And I sigh. "But I haven't been the meanest, either."

He considers this, and nods after a moment. "I guess I can give you that much."

I crack a small smile, thankful that I'm finally getting somewhere with him. "It's Meredith," I inform him.

He chuckles and eyes my work paper. "I can see that."

I have to laugh along with him. "Dork."

"Do you have a partner for this thing?," he asks me quickly.

I give him a stupid look. "What thing?" Really, I have no clue what he's referring to, even though I probably should. I have a hard time focusing most days. I can't take in everything the teachers talk about, I have to write it down, and even then...I still forget.

"Um, the really important project," he laughs at me. "The one the professor has been going on and on about."

"Oh, that thing," I laugh nervously, knowing that I should have remembered something like that. In reality, I haven't forgotten about it, not at all. Just, people need to be specific with me. My god, I really am an idiot. "No, I don't. I thought maybe..." I trail off, and smile as the idea hits me dead on. "I would ask you." I eye his paper as he continues to smile at me, and quickly begin to write his answers on my own paper.

"Oh did you," he chuckles. "How do you know some other cool kid hasn't propositioned me yet?"

"Because nobody else knows you, or wants to be seen with you," I chide, and slyly jot down the last answer he has completed. "Plus." I wink. "You like me."

He frowns. "No, I don't."

But I ignore him. "And I need a good grade."

"I don't like you," he tells me, seriously.

I smile. "It'll be good for your reputation," I point out. "Maybe even...get you some friends." Really, that's a lie, but I feel bad being so straight forward with him. Everybody deserves at least one good friend. Well, in my opinion anyway. It kind of makes my heart ache that he doesn't have any...not even one.

Not that I'm going to befriend him or anything.

"Oh yeah," he scoffs, skeptically. "You'll get me up there with your jock friends. You know, the ones that destroyed my lunch yesterday," he mutters. "The ones that tried to...well, the ones that tripped me this morning."

I feel bad for him. Like I felt bad for Mona earlier in the bathroom. I wasn't there, but I know how that goes. Ricky or Teddy tripped him in his Urkel suit and he probably fell on his face. Everybody laughed, he looked like an idiot...anybody else would have cried. My eyes widen a little.

He still came to class.

But I don't let him now how bad I feel, although he can probably see it written on my face. I smile. "Be careful of those boys," I warn him with a giggle. "They're vicious." I eye his paper, and frown at the last problem on the page. The one he hasn't' completed yet. "You should finish that one," I say, pointing to his paper.

He glares at me. "Maybe I'll leave it blank...just because."

I fake a gasp. "Scandalous. The ‘professor‘ would be furious."

But he doesn't get annoyed with me this time. He smiles instead, and I'm almost surprised; but then I think I knew I would be able to get that reaction out of him all along. The girls were right, I guess. I guess I knew it all along. He does like me. He likes me, and boy...am I ever going to use him to my advantage. "Why are you smiling?," I ask him quietly.

But I quickly realize his head isn't in the clouds. He's not fantasizing about a fake world where I'm his girlfriend and he's the captain of the football team. He knows exactly what he's doing, and yes, once again, I'm the idiot...

What's with this kid?

"Your passing grade," he tells me. "It all depends on whether or not I let you team up with me. Gee, looks like I'm not such a dork after all, huh Meredith? I guess I have some power now."

"I could do the work myself," I defend, even though it's a lie. Yeah okay, I could probably do it myself, but I would fail miserably. "I'm not dumb."

He laughs at me again, and this time I really want to hit him. I don't care how innocent or fragile he seems. "No, not dumb," he smiles. "Airhead is the right word. Hmm." He cups his chin in his palm. "Airhead, I wonder...is that in the dictionary Meredith? You do know what that is right, a dictionary?," he grins.

"You know," I say, glaring at him. "You're pretty cocky, considering you're the biggest loser in the history of this high school."

But my words to him don't seem to affect him as much as they should. "I have plenty of reason to be," he says, as if he's on top of the world.

I just don't get him. But, if he can act like this...I guess I can play his little game too. "Cocky huh?" I smile and lean in closer to him. "Tell me," I giggle. "How cocky...are you?" I inch my hand up his thigh and then...I go for it. I touch his groin, and I start to laugh...

And he snatches my hand and squeezes it so hard, I think he might sprain it. There's a pained look in his eyes, like I've just done something so wrong...so out of line, that I deserve to die.

"I..."

He slaps my hand away before I can get another word in. "Forget you. You little..." But he cuts himself short. I can tell already, he doesn't like to be vulgar. "Just, don't touch me or look at me. You're disgusting."

I sit in my seat and stare into space. Really, knowing how right he is about me. Most of the time, it takes a guy a week or two to figure me out; but Justin is so smart that he's gotten me figured out in a single class period. Genius? No, he just pays attention and doesn't put up with stupid immature crap. It makes me hate myself, but then again...I always hate myself. "Idiot," I mutter to myself.

The bell rings a few minutes later, and I miserably pass my paper to the girl in front of me. Mr. Felps of course, doesn't hesitate to remind us that our project proposal's are due on Friday. I gasp. Friday. But that's so soon. So soon and I have no partner. "Friday," I hear myself whimper, and I really wish I didn't. I'm sure Justin heard me, and it only gives him more of a reason to hate me now.

He rises from his seat and plops his leather satchel on the table top, before sending me a dirty look. "Guess who's the loser now, Meredith." He shoves his books and papers into his bag and zips it shut, before slinging it over his shoulder and walking past me.

"Wait," I call after him, like an idiot. "What about..." I jog to catch up with him. "What about class? Aren't we partners?"

He stops at a locker a few sections down from our class room. "You have some nerve, asking me that right now."

I feel my face turn red. "Look, before I...just, please?" I plead. "Please, Justin." I see a few kids pass by me, and I'm sure they know who I am because they're looking at me like I'm crazy. But of course they think I am. I'm standing here, pleading with Urkel himself. But right now, I couldn't care less what they think. I don't only need to pass Mr. Felp's class, but I feel really low, really dirty for what I did to him back there. Apparently he's really sensitive when it comes to...stuff, and I need to respect that. He's not a trashy jock like the guys I know, he's different....

He's different and a small part of me almost envies him for that.

He opens his locker, and yanks some books out of his expensive looking satchel and switches them for the new ones. "Why should I? We both know what's going to happen, Meredith. It won't work out, and I'll get mad...and that just wont be good. I shouldn't be stressed out right now, it's not good for me." Then he starts to cough, and he can't seem to stop. It's seems to aggravate him. He roll his eyes, and digs around in his pocket; producing a small inhaler a moment later. He takes a hit, and takes a deep breath. "Just go, be stupid with your friends," he sighs in defeat.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, worried that there's something seriously wrong with him. Like he has some weird dork lung disease and now it's going to kill him, because of what I did. "I mean I..."

"I have asthma," he mutters. "And I'm fine." He slams his locker door.

I feel guilty, but I'm too selfish, too worried about failing and not graduating with my class to not press him more about the project. "Justin, I'm sorry," I say forcefully. "I crossed the line back there, and I didn't mean to. I really do need your help though. Won't you please reconsider being my partner?"

He laughs bitterly. "It's amazing that this is the closest I'm going to come to making a friend this year; letting the popular girl from down the street copy my work. Hey," he shrugs. "They always told me my brains would come in handy someday."

"I wont copy you," I tell him, trying to be as honest as I can. "I swear, I'll really try Justin. I will."

He rolls his eyes, and adjusts his bag's leather strap. "You can say a lot of things, Meredith. Following through with them is an entirely different concept."

"But I would...I would bring something to the project," I say, convincingly. "I'm really creative. I might not be good with math and the technical things...but I can come up with a lot of good ideas." I smile a little, and when he doesn't turn his back on me I start to get some hope back. "Just tell me what I need to do," I continue. "I'll do it."

"Creative?," he sighs.

"Yeah," I smile.

"This isn't an art project," he mutters.

"I know. Just, here..." I open up the binder in my arms and pull out the project description. "It says here that 40% of the grade is based on creativity..."

He cuts me off. "Creativity doesn't mean fluorescent poster board, with shit drawn all over it."

I gasp, slightly shocked that he's used vulgarity with me. "So you do swear."

"Oh God." He shakes his head. "You know, I am human, contrary to what your peers think," he snaps, causing me to flinch slightly. "See you around," he mutters, and starts to turn away from me all together.

"Justin," I moan, in one last pathetic attempt to win him over again. "Please. A desperate soul is in need here."

Part of him looks like he wants to get the hell away from me, but somehow, something else forces him to stay and listen to me. "Where were you when they tripped me," he mutters. "Laughing with the rest?"

"I wasn't there." I hang my head low.

"Oh but you laughed all the other times. I don't have time for it...I don't Meredith. None of you know me, and what I do, or what I've done..." He shakes his head roughly, seemingly upset about something. If it's something I've done, I don't know. Maybe, but...it seems a lot more personal than that.

"I can't say anything more," I confess, while he runs his hands through his massive curls. "All I can ask you is to please give me a chance. I'll work hard, I'll help all I can. That's all I can say."

After a moment, he clears his throat, and looks up at me again. He glares at me, crosses his arms...but he doesn't leave. He doesn't leave and that's a good thing. "What's in this for me?" He finally asks me. "Are you going to talk to me when your friends are around? Are you going to introduce me around school? Tell people I'm not a big suit wearing freak?"

What do I say to that? I know I can't just have him come and hang out with Heather and the girls and Ricky and Teddy and them. God, they'd tear him apart, and I can't put him through that. But I can't just tell him that. As smart as I know he is, I know he wont understand. "If things were the other way around, Justin; if this were you're old school...and I was the new girl, would you talk to me? Or would you just tell everybody how stupid I was."

He grits his teeth in frustration. "First of all, if this were Harding, you wouldn't' have to worry about being disrespected like that, because people there know how to treat others. Second of all, if you went to Harding, you wouldn't be stupid. They don't accept airheads there."

"Well geez," I chuckle. "I guess it must be heaven on earth in that place. You must have to sign some kind of pact with Jesus to set foot near the place."

He doesn't show amusement. "You're not funny. And I would never...I mean, if I was the popular one here and you were new and different I wouldn't' just...treat you like that. You don't just, treat people like that. You treat them like you'd want to be treated," he informs me. "That's the mature thing to do, until you're able to get to know the person."

The second bell rings, and I know I'm not getting anywhere. Justin isn't going to be late to class, so he can stay behind and fight with me. In a minute, he'll leave and I'll be still be without a partner. Of course that will be okay with Mr. Felps. He said we can work alone if we have to. But...I don't want to do that. I can't do that.

"Mere...what the hell are you doing?"

I hear Heather's voice at my right, and I look over to find her standing beside me, a perplexed expression on her face. She's looking at Justin like he's a freak, and I feel bad, but naturally I don't say a damn thing in his defense.

Justin shakes his head when I don't respond to her, when I don't defend him...when I don't try to be his friend. "Good luck, Meredith," he says to me, bitterly, before turning away.

"Justin," I call pathetically, and Heather looks at me like I belong in the nut house.

He turns around once more, and I'm a little shocked. Damn, after the way I've treated him...why doesn't he just walk away and cut me off for good? "What is it," he grunts.

I sigh. "Partners or not?"

He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he eyes Heather, and my throat tightens slightly. I know this is a test. "Who are you?" he asks her.

I look over at Heather and shoot her a pleading look. God, Heather, please be my best friend right now. "She's my best friend," I tell him quickly, hoping Heather will play along and not embarrass him or degrade him.

He stares at us for several moments, before walking back over to us. Heather glances around, and I'm sure she's trying to see if any of our friends are lurking nearby. I pray that's not the case, but if it is...I can't do anything about it. I'll just have to make up some bullshit story. Some stupid story that will make them laugh at Justin in the end instead of Heather and I.

God, I'm such a little backstabbing bitch.

"You think I'm a loser too, Heather?," he shoots at her, coldly.

"Who me?" She points to her chest, and tries to act like his notion is ridiculous. "God no. I mean, you're different...but I mean..."

I nudge her before she can completely embarrass herself.

Justin crosses his arms. "You're in my French class, right?"

Heather chuckles nervously. "Oh yeah, I totally am. I was meaning to say hi, but I guess I forgot."

She's horrible at lying.

Then he starts to stare at me again. I don't really know what to say to him, but I know if I have any chance of getting my way I better think fast. "See that? Heather likes you, she's in your French class. And I like you. You're cool in our book." I nudge Heather so she'll agree.

"Oh...oh yeah," she smiles stupidly. "Totally...totally cool."

Justin glances from myself to Heather and then back again. Then he takes in a deep, decisive breath. "Fine," he finally tells me. "I'll work on it with you."

I squeal and Heather groans. "Thank you!!" I pull him into a hug, not even thinking about the damage it could cause Heather and myself.

"Great." He forces a smile, and pushes me away from him, seemingly nauseated that I've touched him again. I know it's better this way though. God, I don't know how many people might have seen that. "Partners." He nods, and reaches into his bag. "You'll need my number." He produces a card out of the front pocket of his satchel a moment later, and hands it to me.

"Ooo," Heather cackles. "Getting the digits now."

I look down at the card, not really understanding why a high school student would need a business card...but I guess it's just another thing that makes him different. Different. I need to start accepting the different kind of personality that he has. "You could use one of these, Heath," I chide, and nudge her a little. "You know, you could list all your services."

She laughs. "Bitch."

Justin clears his throat impatiently, and it causes me to snap out of my carefree state and pay attention. Almost like in class...when the teacher yells at me. Damn, am I really that immature?

"We'll have to get together, maybe Saturday so we can get supplies and such. You'll need to work on the hypothesis for Friday too..."

I would stay and chat, really I would, but then I see Tiffany coming down the hall and I'm not about to become the laughing stock of Hanson. Not today. "Okay that sounds great," I say quickly, linking my arm through Heather's. "I'll just call you later...bye!" And I drag Heather away just before Tiffany can spot Heather and I with braniac. God...

"Yo, Urkel," Heather calls back over her shoulder. "Don't go that way. Ricky hangs around there."

Am I hearing things? I turn my head, and Justin is smiling back at us. "Thanks," he calls, and turns down a different hallway. Weird. Heather has never been one to pity the dorks.

But when we turn the corner, she changes back to the Heather I've always known. "What the hell was that?," she exclaims, yanking away from me.

I don't really look at her. "I need a partner for lab."

She laughs. "Fucking Urkel?"

"He's smart," I point out.

"Meredith," Heather says, in a warning tone. "You realize that Ricky is going to kill you, right?"

"No," I shake my head. "Not if he knows that it's just for school, so I can pass my class," I say. "I have to pass Heather. Come on, you know how hard Mr. Felps is on me, and just ...couldn't take it if I got held back another year in this place. I have to move on." I cringe at the thought of getting left behind again, having to go through this entire year all over again. God, I want to live my life. I want to do things, and see things. And...get out of this stupid stereotypical world.

This...the uniform and my hair style and...everything. It's not really me at all. It's who they want me to be. I'm sick and tired of it.

Heather sighs. "You have to be careful Mere. Not to be mean, but you know what hanging around with a dork like that can do to your reputation. And hell, you've come way too far to screw up with this crowd now okay? Just...work with him you know, but don't' tell people. And definitely don't try to bring him around us."

It makes me feel horrible, but I totally agree with everything she's just said. My reputation is precious at this point, it's what's going to get me through this year, and I've worked my ass off to gain this social status. I would never, ever just...try to be nice and bring Justin around our circle our friends. As bad as it is, it would totally screw me forever. And I can't have that. "You think I don't know?" I laugh. "God, I'm not going to. But you know, I wish some of the people would lighten up about him and his clothes. He's really not...all that bad." I cringe at my words. I know the guy is nice, but still he's not normal. Not at all. "Okay so he's kinda weird but, but he's a nice guy, Heather."

But instead of playing mother dearest, Heather switches back into playful mod. "Did you find out his cock size?," she giggles.

I swallow hard, and grab the hand that Justin squeezed. I know I can't tell her what happened, she'll start thinking he's a psycho on top of everything else. "I couldn't. He's too...nice," I lie.

She sighs. "You know the girls are going to be pissed if you don't dish, girl."

"So I'll make up a lie," I tell her. "You know, unlike you I can fib my way out of a situation."

She rolls her eyes. "Great. So be nice and say he's big."

The playful, erotic teenager comes out of me now. I can do this with her, with my friends...because they aren't uptight like Justin is. Lord, I doubt I'll even mention sex around him now that I've experienced his rage about the subject. "I bet it is," I say. "He's tall...got long fingers and all of that."

She stares at me for a moment. "You don't...like him do you, Meredith?"

"God...no." My voice draw slight hesitation, and I have no idea why. But it's not good. God, I don't like him. I don't. He's a dork...

"Oh well this is just great," Heather sighs.

"I don't like him!" I defend. "Heather come on, you know me..."

But she only shakes her head. "You can't like him, Mere. Come on...you know better. You know what will happen."

"God, Heather," I say in disgust and turn on my heel to walk away from her. "I don't like him. I'm practically dating Ricky, and you and I know he wouldn't put up with that. I have too much at stake," I sigh. "God, I'm not that dumb, Heath."

She narrows her eyes at me. "I know you, Mere," she reminds me, as the final bell rings. "Look, we'll talk later okay? I have to run or I'll be late for English."

I chuckle. "Have fun."

She gives me a weird look. "Aren't you going to class?"

I smile at her smugly. "I have study hall."

"God, lucky bitch," she groans.

"I guess, if you consider sitting in the library a party," I smile.

She starts to run off down the hall. "Meet me out by the car after the bell okay?"

"Okay!" I call out to her. "Bye!"

She disappears around the corner, and there's nothing left to do but head down to the library for forty five fun filled minutes of boredom. I stop at my locker on the way of course, so I can grab my walkman. Surely I can't be expected to sit there without some kind of entertainment. After digging through the rubble, my hand finally comes in contact with my possession, and I smile, knowing that some soothing Gloria is well on the way to my ears. But then...

"Hey beautiful." He leans in front of me, blocking access to my path and I know I have no choice but to stand here and listen to what he has to say.

"Oh...hi Ricky," I force a polite smile and shove my walkman into my book bag. "What's up?"

Ricky isn't the tallest guy, but he sure is built. He's the type of guy that makes all the girls swoon. He could have any of them too...even Heather if he really tried. But for some reason, since the day he set his gaze on me, I'm the only girl he's ever wanted. Too bad he's an idiot and I would never completely give in. But...I have to give him something, because...he knows...he knows my little secret. And if I don't behave, and give him what he wants and do what he wants, I'll be exposed and ruined. And as we all know, I just can't have that.

He smiles, just slightly. "What's this I hear about you talking to Urkel?," he chuckles. "Some of the girls seem to think you have a soft spot for the dork."

I give him a stupid look. "What do you mean, Ricky?"

He pounds his fist against he lockers, and I whimper a little. "Don't act stupid," he seethes. "I hate that shit...when you do that. Like I'm not smart enough to figure shit out or something."

I suck in a shaky breath. "Look, Ricky, it's nothing really. We just have a few classes together, and I've been nice to him a couple of times out of pity. That's all it is...I swear. What‘s so wrong?"

He grabs my face, and smiles...it's a sick smile, a twisted one. One that tells me he knows he has complete control over me. I hate this. I hate him. Wait...no, I can't hate him. He's everything I have. "You think I want my girl," he says, shaking me a bit. "Associating with that little shit?"

I sigh, and smile at him. That stupid smile, that tells him I'm just some ditz that he fucks all the time. "Come on Ricky. The girls wanted some dirt on him, so I was on a mission. What are you...jealous?"

He laughs hard, right in my face. "Jealous of what?"

And I giggle. "Exactly."

He finally lets go of me after a moment, but I don't dare move from my position against the lockers. I watch him as he paces a little, and strokes his chin in thought. "Ricky?"

"You know," he says, as if a sudden realization has dawned on him. "We could have some fun with this."

I don't like it. "What?"

He comes back over to me again, and leans over me...pressing his body against mine and my own body into the lockers all over again. "A mascot," he whispers, sweetly seductive in my ear. "We need one."

I laugh because the idea is so nuts. The dork a mascot? A Wildcat? Come on, be serious. "The mascot? You must be joking," I laugh. "I thought Lionel was doing it."

"Oh screw Lionel," he pouts, and begins to touch me in places that he shouldn't be during school hours. "We could have a lot of fun with Urkel," he snickers. "You know, throwing him in the hamper, down the garbage shoot and shit."

Then I let the emotions get the best of me. "Oh Ricky, come on. I feel bad doing that to him. He's new and doesn't know anybody..." And I shoot him a sexy little smile. "Like, when I was new..."

He puts a hand up to my neck, and closes his fist a little, practically cutting off my windpipe...but not quite. "You're going to get him to try out and wear the damn outfit," he informs me.

I sigh, and gently reach up to push his hand away, feeling relieved when he lets me. "Or what, Ricky?"

"Or..." He leans in and kisses my neck gently. "Everybody is gonna find out what your Papi does for a living."

I swallow hard. "Fuck you, Ricky," I whisper. Fed up. I'm fed up with his threats. He does this practially every day now, whenever he sees me. Get me this or I'll tell... Say this to them or I'll tell...

Have sex with me or I'll tell...

I cringe.

And he laughs, deep and spiteful. "Don't mind if I do." Then he kisses me, long, hard, and powerfully; telling me that I'm his and he has all the power. Then he says: "Do it mere."

Somehow, I manage to find my voice. "I'll try."

He backs away from me and smiles. "Hey, it's your reputation at stake, chica. Not mine."

I watch him go...around the corner, probably off to the coach's office to bullshit with him. I don't care. Maybe he'll never come out and I wont have to worry anymore. Sometimes I almost wish I'd stayed unpopular. Then I'd have different friends...maybe even...Justin could be my friend. He's so nice...

No.

This is my life, this is me...and it's a good thing. It's good to be at the level of popularity. I can have anything, do anything, date

"Two eggs...three cloves of garlic." I pause, and glance at Fritz. "You got it so far?"

He barks.

I crack my knuckles. "Two sticks of butter." I add in the rest of the ingredients and lower the top of the stand mixer. "And violia! Chez magnifique!" I press the mix button, and watch my creation come to life. Okay so it's just alfredo sauce, but still...I feel like I'm accomplishing something right now. It's more than I can say for my day at school, what a damn nightmare it was.

I'm not going back.

Granted, I've gotten used to the slurs, and how my arrival in the cafeteria has been the highlight of the day for most of the kids in that school. And I mean, I'm okay with it now. I accept it...I'll let them get their kicks, and at the end of the year I'll be laughing all the way to the bank. Well, okay, maybe not laughing . I wish I could laugh all the way to the bank, but really, I don't want that money. What I want is my mom and dad back. Isn't there a way? Like, isn't there some way in the world, any way at all to resurrect them? The ancients believed that you could resurrect people from the dead. And Jesus' followers believed that he was resurrected. Can't it just be like that? A god damn miracle? Can't I just have a second chance? Is it selfish to want a second chance? A lot of people die. I mean, I can't be the only one that deserves to have their loved one's brought back. If I could, I would take requests and bring them all back at once. God, anything...

I'd do anything at all...

I have alfredo sauce in my curls.

Today, they pulled my pants down in front of the entire lunchroom. It was that guy Ricky and his friends that did it. I guess I should have seen it coming, but I was thinking about too many things and I wasn‘t focusing like I should have been. I have a ton of work to do for my English class, more than I'd expected. Not that I'm mad. I'm always up for that sort of thing. I was just trying to figure out how I was going to balance this weekend with the Enviro project and the report I'm supposed to write on the short story we read. I had my sandwich, that roast beef one. Yeah, I was thinking about that too. I didn't even see them...I didn't even know...

Until my pants where yanked down around my ankles, and I tripped...and landed on my face.

They squashed my lunch too. Again. Fucking again...with my sandwich. Ricky got in my face, and waved the crushed lunch bag in my face too. He was laughing. "Urkel...errrrr." I couldn't move. I was paralyzed, lying there on the cold linoleum floor. It smelled like cheap floor cleaning liquid I'm surprised I didn't hurl all over the place. I don't even know how I managed to hold back my tears. I mean God, my long dress shirt was the only thing covering my briefs, and there were girls around. It was so personal. I don't know how I got up. I mean I did, after about ten minutes. I had to pull my pants up in front of them all too, and buckle my belt. My face was on fire, and the laughter was still there, all around me...drowning me in embarrassment.

I left school and I'm not going back.

I stop the mixer and dip my finger in the sauce to taste. "Hmm." I take some more and lean down to Fritz, so I can get his opinion. "Now be honest," I ask him, as he licks my finger. "Is it like mommy's?"

He sits, and whimpers.

"Well you don't have to be so blunt," I mutter. "It needs salt, Justin. That's all you need to say."

"I once knew a man that spoke wit his dog." Selma closes the back door behind her and places the groceries on the table. "Dat sorta ting will only land a bawy like you in da nuthouse."

I laugh. "Selma, Fritz is no ordinary dog," I inform her. "He understands over seven hundred words, and he can also understand most sign language commands. I've taught him fifty commands." I smile proudly. "And I have the book upstairs with all the others. We learn a new one every week."

"Oi," she groans. "Somebody needs to get your young b'hind outta dis house."

Selma is Jamaican and I'm fascinated by her. I like to learn about all different kinds of nationalities, and the Jamaican culture is one I'd always had some trouble fully understanding. It's lucky for me that Selma is so willing to talk about her homeland with me. She tells me stories about her family and her ancestors. About the fruit trees in the south region and the sugar cane fields to the north. She told me how the sugar cane grows so high above your head there, that you have to chop it down with an axe. One day last week she had some sent out here from her niece, and I put it in the cake I baked. It was awesome. It's great to have such a different culture so close to me. Grandmother doesn't' think anything of it of course, but she's not really into learning about the world and different cultures and things. She likes her books...the classics. A lot of Shakespeare too. And I respect her for that. I've had several interesting conversations with her about Othello and Hamlet, my favorite plays. It's brought us closer if anything. I mean, and that's good, because I need to have some kind of bond with the woman.

Or else I'll be alone.

"I'm okay, Selma," I reassure her with a smile, placing a light kiss on her dark cheek. "I'm cooking dinner."

She places a hand on her hip. "Nona dat weird tastin' tofu like de otha day," she warns me. "Madame nearly ‘ad a heart attack at da taste."

I laugh again. "No no, I'm off that high," I tell her. I'm weird. Really weird. Like I watched this show all about health food, and so I went out and bought tofu. I liked it, so I figured I would make Grandmother eat it too. She obliged, so I mean, I figured she'd had it before. I was wrong. I wish somebody else, like Jack, could have seen her face. It was priceless. Like that face somebody makes when they eat a really sour lemon, but ten times worse. I laughed. I laughed but she told me I was an imbecile. I felt bad. I went in my room and cried about it that night.

I'm such an idiot.

"So what is dis?" Selma points to my sauce.

"Alfredo," I grin, and open up the cabinet above my head. I pull down the canister of pasta and open the top. "I thought I'd make some Escargo in butter and garlic too," I smile. "That's why I asked you to pick up the fresh snails."

"I neva seen a man cook as much as you," she smiles, and begins to put the other groceries away; leaving the ingredients I requested from her out on the table. "Whateva woman be your wife one day, is gonna be a lucky one."

I laugh a little, but I don't say anything. I have so much stuff I'm dealing with at the moment...so much pain and things, that I can't think about girls. I guess I'm not a complete freak. I mean I had one, a girlfriend, back at Harding. We were together for three years. Elena. I loved her, and love...that's not just some word I throw around. I really was in love with her. She was the only girl that I'd ever let that close to me...that I let explore me. When I left, it was hard for us. We were still in love, and she told me that she would talk to her parents, get them to let me live with her until we graduated. I guess I could have. Her parents were really nice people, but I think part of me wanted to leave. I wanted to get away...maybe, hide. The book I read about psychology mentioned that hiding from the truth, is the number one reaction to trauma, and I guess I can't lie to myself now that I think about it. I didn't want to be reminded of everything...of my parents then. Of course now, being in this new place, in that horrible school, makes me wish I could have sucked it up and stuck around.

But I'm not going to stand here and kick myself for things I can't change.

"Should I boil the wata?," Selma asks, picking up the pot and bringing it over to the sink.

While I do love her company, I can already feel the tears forming behind my eyes. I need to be alone right now. Alone where the only one that can see me cry is Fritz. "No, Selma. Maybe Grandmother needs you in the sitting room. I'll be fine."

"All right bawy," she shoots me a knowing smile, and rubs my shoulder. "Jes let me know when dis ting is ready."

I nod, but don't say anything as I watch her leave the kitchen. A moment later I hear Grandmother mutter an order for her to do something, and I know I'm alone for the moment. I should start to fix the Escargo, but for some reason, I don't have the motivation that I did before. I lean against the counter, and run my hands through my curls. I try to think of something...anything, so I can be happy. But there is no way for me to be happy...

Ever.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings again. Then it stops. Silence. And then I hear Grandmother's voice booming from the sitting room. "Justin Randall, there is a girl from your school on the phone."

I poke my head through the doorway nervously. "Grandmother."

She begins to hand me the cordless. "No funny business young man. Where do you know this girl from?"

The only girl I've given my number to, is Meredith, and I'm assuming it's her that's calling me. She wants to know about the project of course, it couldn't possibly be anything other than that. I know it will be a cold day in hell before she'd ever actually want to hang out like friends do. But right now, after today...I really couldn't care less. "From science class, Grandmother," I say. "We've been assigned a science project. It wont effect anything."

She gives me a serious look, but she knows I would never lie to her. "Very well," she sighs, and gives me the phone. "But if this girl makes trouble, I want you to come straight to me. Do I make myself clear?"

I nod, and pray that Meredith hasn't heard any of this. I mean, I don't care what she thinks, but I don't need to sound like I'm being babied on the phone. "Hello?" I glance at Grandmother quickly, and duck back into the kitchen.

"Hey!"

I can hear loud music blaring in the background, and voices...loud voices. "Two four six eight..." Counting. I consider this for a minute. God. Cheerleading. "Hi," I finally say.

"Was that Grandma? Tell her I'm sorry I made her upset," she laughs. "She didn't sound too thrilled."

I roll my eyes. "It's okay," I mutter. I know I agreed to work with her. And when I agree to work with somebody on a project I never back down, but it doesn't excuse that fact that I'm pretty angry with her. Not only did she try to touch me the other day, for whatever sick reason she did; but today...when Ricky pulled my pants down, she was there. I looked at her for a moment, just quickly, and I saw her laughing. She was laughing right along with them. She didn't care that I was mortified, that I felt like a piece of shit groveling on the ground. I grit my teeth in frustration. "What do you want?," I mutter.

"Well I..." Her voice trails off, and I'm sure she knows that I'm mad at her. "How are you?"

I laugh bitterly. "Take a guess."

"Look, he's a jerk," she informs me, as if I didn't already know. "I'm really sorry about what happened to you today. I told him that he shouldn't have done it."

"Sure you did," I scoff. "Don't lie to me, Meredith. I saw you. You were laughing right along with the rest of them."

"Laughing?" She sounds shocked. "Justin, I wasn't laughing. I saw what happened and I started coughing! Heather had to go and get me some water."

"My, how convenient," I sigh. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"I'm not lying!," she whines. "Look, you can ask Heather the next time..."

I interrupt her. "Like she's really going to give me the time of day, now that the entire school knows me as ‘ass boy‘."

This time she doesn't answer me. I hear the music again, and the cheering voices. "Are you at practice or something?" I ask. Really, I shouldn't say anything more. I should just hang up, tell her I can't be her partner when I see her again, and just forget the whole thing. I'll transfer to Vermillion and hang out with a bunch of kids I have no desire to get to know. It'll be great...

I hate life.

"I'm at cheerleading," she tells me quietly. "And actually, it's part of the reason I'm calling you."

I laugh, and walk over to the pot in the sink so I can start filling it with water. "What now? Did your water boy take ill?"

"Not exactly," she says, innocently.

I don't like it.

"We need a mascot."

"A mascot," I laugh again, and turn off the water. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No I'm not. We need somebody new this year. The guy that usually does it, broke his foot and he quit. I think it would be good for you," I can hear her smile through the phone. "You know, you could meet people and try to fit in. Plus," she giggles. "You'd get to hang around with us girls."

"You're nuts," I say, as I place the pot of water on the burner. "Did you see what happened to me today? Did you see how they all laughed at me? I doubt I'll set foot inside the school again, let alone walk onto the football field. Nice try Mere, really. Besides, I know you're up to something anyway. Somehow, I'm sure this is all some stupid plot you've conjured up with your friends to make the me look like a bigger imbecile."

"Hey! That's not fair." She sounds offended. "None of the stuff that's happened, happened because of me Justin. That was all...them."

"Oh right." I turn the burner on, and laugh into the phone. "You were just there to watch. You know...get some enjoyment..."

"Maybe I should just get to the point," she interrupts me.

"Maybe you should," I agree, even though I'd rather be complaining to her than talking rationally. I know that sounds crazy, but really, I have nobody else to vent to or get my aggressions out with. I don't even have a psychiatrist. After my parent's funeral, they sent me to one...but it was weird. I felt funny talking about how much I blame myself, and so I opted out. Grandmother didn't seem to mind too much. She'd rather not have to tell the rest of the ladies club that her grandson is ‘seeing a therapist'. However, the downfall is that I keep all of this aggression inside of me. Earlier on, before school started, I figured I would end up making a few friends who would understand me and be willing to listen to my problems. But now that I know that it's never going to happen, I'm starting to become very cold...very bitter. It's not a good way to be. I've never been this way, it's not how I was raised. But...I just can't trust anybody right now, maybe even...never again. So, I'll take what I can get. I know if I keep fighting with Meredith over the phone, it won't only release the stress and anxiety from my soul; but it will also make me feel a lot better about myself. But if I start lashing out, pointing out her flaws and things, she'll only hang up on me. Then I'll be left to my thoughts, with Fritz as my only companion. And while I love that animal, it's getting kind of lame confiding in my dog all the time.

She sighs heavily into the phone. "Practice is tomorrow," she grunts. "If you want a shot at making some friends, instead of having everybody calling you ‘ass boy', you should come down and check it out after school."

I roll my eyes, and cough a little. My chest is a little tight right now, probably because I'm stressing myself out again, and I reach for my inhaler. "Maybe I will," I say, before taking a slow hit. I clear my throat a little. "Have you started your proposal yet?"

"Oh..."

I chuckle a little, realizing how stupid the question was to ask. It's only been a few days, and while I have my proposal in place, and a basic outline of the project sitting on my desk; I'm certain that she's barely opened her book to look the information up. Not that I can blame her. After all, she does attend public school, and she's not the brightest girl I've ever met before. But I've always known that her social life and extra curricular activities come before her studies. "You haven't started," I tell her, as the water begins to boil. I pull the clear acrylic canister closer to me and pull the linguini pasta out of it. "That leaves you hardly any time to get it done, Meredith. What did I tell you...."

"Look," she interrupts me. "I have a lot going on after school with cheerleading and my family and stuff. It's hard for me to really sit with my school work and get it done--"

"Which explains why you're failing," I interrupt, tossing the pasta into the water. "School comes first Meredith, didn't your parents teach you that?"

She's silent for a long time after that, and part of me feels that I've said to much...but I wont allow myself to believe it. So she has petty high school problems. So what? She doesn't know real pain. Nobody in that school does.

"I'm guessing you already have it like...done for us," she grunts. "Thanks for giving me a chance to prove myself, jerk."

I scoff. "You think I could get a detailed project done in three days?"

"Hey," she chuckles. "You're the genius right?"

"It's not done," I point out. "And it wont be done until the week it's due in." I lower the heat and add some salt in before replacing the lid on the pot.

"I'm confused," she admits. "You still haven't told me what we're even doing. And Justin, I have to pass this year. I failed last year, and Mr. Felps hates my guts. He‘s not going to cut me any slack...I wont graduate," she whines.

I sit down at the table and toy with the little salt shaker shaped like a mouse. "Are you even in that class, mentally?," I ask her with a smile. "Or do you just sit there and float out of yourself, Meredith? Because really, we've been studying chemical effects on the environment from day one, and that stuff is so remedial it shouldn't be allowed to be taught at a high school level." I admit, I'm probably being incorrigible right now, but I don't care. I can't stand people that allow their minds to wander when their futures depend on the grade their getting. What's worse, she's very likely to fail, and she's still not making an effort to turn things around for herself. I'm supposed to help her, get her to pass, and hope to god that she'll compensate me by introducing me to her friends in the future. But why should I have to stick out my neck for her? I didn't ask for this. I'm not the one that told her to go party instead of cracking open her books. Geez, I didn't even know she existed when she was taking this class last year. Because last year, I was in Harding. Last year, Elena and I went to the social and ate some cheese and drank wine...and kissed, and would have gone there and done it if it hadn't been for my anxiety. Last year, Jack and I planned out our goals for our senior year. We were going to compete...to see who would end up being valedictorian...who would get accepted at Stanford first.

Last year, my parents celebrated their eighteenth wedding anniversary. And that was just a week before...

"Well, I'm glad its so fucking remedial for you. I wish you would stop pointing out how much smarter you are than me. I already know okay? God...everybody knows. That's why they all think you're a weirdo. I mean you wear suits and you don't make an effort..."

She's rambling because she's angry with me and I don't feel like hearing it anymore. "We'll be studying household chemicals and the effect they have on three different types of plants," I interrupt, casually. "We'll be building a greenhouse and studying the changes in the plants on a daily basis. You'll need to come to my house after school everyday to take notes, unless of course that's too much trouble..."

"No!" She blurts out pathetically. "That's fine, I understand. I can...I can even come over tonight and see what you have for the proposal."

She's going for the easy way out, at least I think she is. She wants to come over, copy what I wrote, and turn it in on Friday. I hate her for that, but then again, if I get her over here alone...away from her stupid friends, maybe I can talk to her in a more reasonable manner. Maybe I wont be so cold...maybe she wont be so annoying. Maybe we'll actually have something to talk about, and maybe I'll finally understand why it is that she can't do her schoolwork the right way. "You want to come over?," I ask her a moment later, the surprise in my voice obvious.

"I can," she say softly. "If it will help, I can."

"Well, fine," I say sternly, and rise from the chair to check on my food. "We're about to dine, so how is eight o'clock for you?"

"You're about to what?"

I sigh. "Dine. Eat dinner. I'm sorry if my dialect is too formal for your immature ears."

"Oh." And she laughs at me just as I thought she would. "Yeah well, me and my family will be ‘dining' shortly as well. Eight o'clock sounds great, Justin."

"Be on time, okay?"

"Duh."

***************

9 pm

I'm sitting directly in the center of Grandmother's back yard. I'm certain that it's the direct center because I went on the internet and looked at the satellite before I came outside. Then I took the measurements and came out here with the yardstick and my star finder. Twenty minutes later I'd pinpointed the exact location, and now I'm sitting here, proud that something has gone my way tonight. Fritz is over by my tomato plant, sniffing at it. I wont stop him, because he doesn't tear things apart. And if he pees on it, it will help it grow faster. I looked up some common facts about animal waste, and apparently dog urine is one of the best things that you can put on your plants soil to help them grow. "Go on," I tell my companion with a smile. "You can pee there, Fritz."

And he does.

It was ten after eight, and being who she is, I gave Meredith the benefit of the doubt. So she'd gotten out of practice late, she was eating dinner, no big deal. Then it was eight thirty and I thought, okay so maybe she's taking a shower, getting everything in order because she wants to be quick when she comes over here; she wants to find out what's going on so she can simply go straight to bed when she goes home. But then, it was eight forty five...and then it was eight fifty.

And now it's nine o'clock.

It's nine o'clock and I'm too smart not to know the truth. I think I knew the truth at ten after eight. She's not coming. She was never planning on coming...she just told me she would so I wouldn't be pissed at her anymore. But I'm not pissed at her right now. No, I'm furious. Furious because she probably knew I would wait for her. She's probably off somewhere right now with her ridiculous friends, laughing about how ‘that dork actually thinks I'm going to show up'. Stupid. Stupid girl. Stupid bitch. A bitch. That's what she is. And I don't just throw that term around lightly. I hate to swear. It's immature and foolish. The English language exists for a reason after all. But if I have a reason to swear, I will. And right now, I've never had a better reason to.

With a long sigh, I pluck a blade of grass from the ground and lean back until I feel my body make contact with the grass. I hold the green blade up to the moonlight, silently wondering why out of all the blades of grass in the yard, did I pick this one? Is it special? Was it created solely for the purpose of being picked? I don't know...all I know is that I can relate to it. I can feel its pain. Out of the billions of people around the world, fate picked me to screw over. Fate picked me to have a horrible tragedy occur in my life. It plucked me up from everything I knew, stuck me in a place I had no idea about, and hasn't helped me to get used it at all. I don't understand. What did I ever do wrong?

I always looked up to my father. From the time I was very small, I always wanted to grow up and turn out just like him. He used to take me out for walks on nights like this, show me the stars. He was amazing at astrology, and it's only because of him that I can pinpoint every constellation in the sky. He used to tell me that Grandpa was friends with Orion the Hunter, that every Sunday they went hunting for geese and had a gigantic feast for dinner that evening. And I believed him, because he was my daddy and he couldn't tell a lie. Lying here now, looking up at that very same constellation makes me think...can he see me? Is he watching me right now? Did he go hunting with Grandpa Peter and Orion the Hunter this past Sunday? Did mommy cook up the fat goose, and make her famous mashed potatoes and gravy? I hope so...I hope they're happy wherever they are. I hope they aren't in any pain.

But most of all, I hope they've forgiven me for what happened. And if they haven't, I hope that one day they'll be able to.

It was a hot June night, and I'd been in the smack in the middle of studying for my History final. Danielle was the toughest teacher in Harding, and well...in the battle to be the following year's valedictorian, I wasn't going to let her ‘impossible to conquer' final get the best of me. Although Jack was almost as smart as me, History wasn't his best subject, and I knew the most he'd be able to achieve with any amount of studying would be a low A or a high B; so I'd already had the advantage. All I had to do was make sure I followed through with it, and I had been. Everything had been perfect...I'd been pulling all nighters for the last two weeks, as I tended to do when it came to the end of the year. I can't remember sleeping for more than eight or ten hours during that span of time, and after everything happened...I guess that was when I realized I should have been more careful. But of course then...it was too late to change my habits.

Before my mother went to bed that night, she'd sat down next to me at the kitchen table and tried to talk me into getting some rest. I didn't look good, she'd said. I hadn't been eating right, she'd said. Up to my neck in notes and text books, I remember getting slightly annoyed with her. I'd been nearly completed with my preparation for the next days final, and I'd only needed a few more hours...just a few more hours and then I would have been ready to take on the world.

"Mother, I'm fine." I said it harshly, and it's something I still regret to this day. I'd always treated my parents with the utmost respect and dignity, especially my mother. We'd always had a special bond...I was always her little boy and she was always my mommy. We'd bake together and sit at the piano and play songs. I'd been able to talk to her a lot. I think I confided in her about a lot of things that most sons wouldn't dream of discussing with their mothers. Naturally, I understood why she'd seemed upset with me. I'd snapped at her and it was totally uncalled for.

"You're working yourself to the bone, Justin." She'd placed a small kiss on my cheek and ran her fingers through my curls. "I know being the best is in your blood. Your father is the same way. But...you're going to be fine, honey. You've studied hard, and no matter what happens...valedictorian or not, just know that your father and I are very proud of you."

Her explanation was a sweet, concerned one. I should have gone with it. I should have smiled at her, told her she was right, and gone up to bed. If I hadn't been so hell bent on beating Jack at our little contest, I probably would have too...but of course, I had to show him up. I had to be the best. And because of this, I paid a horrible price. "Please don't worry," I'd told her quickly. "I'll be putting a few more hours in, and with a cup of coffee or two to tide me over I'll be fine. Really mother, go to bed."

She knew she wasn't going to be able to reason with me, and I think I might have heard her tell me she loved me quietly before retreating upstairs. I wish I would have been more attentive. I wish I could have known....that it was to be the last time I would ever see her. But I just...I didn't care. Schoolwork was the most important thing. Being the best was the most important thing. I was a self centered, egotistical maniac. So, I'd filled the kettle with some water and put it on the stove to boil. I was certain coffee would cure me of my fatigue, and my night would go on as planned.

If only I'd been able to realize just how wrong I was.

I hadn't realized that I'd dozed off until the screaming whistle of the tea kettle jerked me awake. In a daze I'd staggered over to the stove and poured myself a cup full of water. I was so sleepy though, that I ended up getting more water on the kitchen floor than in my coffee mug. I remember cursing myself as I cleaned up the mess, angry that I'd allowed myself to slip up when I was supposed to be focused on perfecting every last detail. Once the water was cleared, I realized that I wasn't going to get anywhere acting the way I was. Studying was starting to give me a headache, and I knew I needed to get a good five hours of sleep in if I was going to be able to function at all in class the next day. I decided to go to bed, figuring it was the smartest decision I'd made all night...

Even though I would find out much later on, that it was to be the stupidest decision I would ever make in my lifetime.

The rest of it was pretty much a blur. I don't know how long I'd been out, all I know is that Fritz was barking, and while I always loved my dog...two am simply wasn't the time for him to be making a racket. I'd awoken from my slumber, my vision blurred from my fatigue and the fact that I didn't have my glasses on. I remember...staggering around...it was cloudy in the room. I thought I was dreaming but...the better part of me was telling me that I wasn't. Then I nearly tripped over Fritz, and then I remember smelling the smoke and coughing. I was coughing so hard, and I was having a lot of trouble breathing. Something was wrong and my asthma wasn't helping the situation. My mind screamed at me to get out. My conscience told me not to. But...I was so confused, and Fritz was up on the window seat...barking out the window. I heard voices...distant but commanding. They wanted me to come to the window. So...so I did go. Out the window and into the helpful arms of somebody I can't remember the name of.

Then everything went dark.

Later on I remembered I hadn't turned the burner off.

That's all I care to remember.

Justin...

I hear her voice, so soft and caring. She needs me and I can't help her. She needed me then and I couldn't help her either. I couldn't help her...I couldn't help daddy. I let them die. I let them breath in that smoke and choke to death in their bed. I didn't think, I didn't know, and a good part of me believes that I didn't care either.

JUSTIN!!

"Mom!" I'm sitting up in bed, my eyes wide, my body trembling. I can feel the sweat traveling down my face...down my body. I put a hand to my forehead and run it through my curls, trying to think...where am I? I look around...it's my room. My room in Grandmother's attic. It's big, stretched out across the entire third floor. I'm not really home. My mother and father aren't alive. I was dreaming. I don't know how I got into bed...I don't remember coming up here...

How did I get up here?

"Justin Randall Timberlake, do you realize what time it is! You will get up this instant!"

Grandmother is outside my door, furious that I've overslept. I slip my glasses on and frown when the clock reads 7:15...nearly a half hour past my usual wake up time. I forgot to set the alarm, I realize, and that's not a surprise seeing as how I don't remember coming up to bed. "I'm up Grandmother!" I roll out of bed and stagger over to the door, trying my best to flatten the crazy mountain of curls on top of my head, before unlocking it to face her. I know it makes her mad that I lock it too. She's told me time and time again that she doesn't think its right that I lock myself away from the rest of the world when I go in my room. I don't really know why I do it. When I lived at home with mom and dad, I rarely every shut my door...let alone lock it. But my parents gave me a lot of privacy at home. So much that I could go up in my room and strip down to my boxers without the fear of one of them barging in on me. But Grandmother likes to ‘check' on me a lot. I guess she does it to make sure I'm doing okay, or following whatever rules she's made up for me, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I'm an insecure adolescent, frightened of living in a new town, a new house...and I need more privacy now than I ever have before. I'd like to sit her down and tell her all of this too, but I know how she'll react. She'll feel insulted, and I know I can't be on bad terms with her because she's all I've got in the world right now. So, I don't sleep in anything but the pajama's she bought me when I first arrived here. They're made of soft cotton, and they're comfortable...but still...I really don't like wearing clothing to bed.

"Young man," Grandmother says sternly, when I open the door. "What on earth are you still doing in bed?"

I sigh. "I overslept, Grandmother. I somehow forgot to set my alarm."

"You did not forget," she snaps, and shoots me a disapproving glare. "You were careless, Justin. Nothing else but carelessness makes one late for their appointments."

I nod. "Yes, ma'am. I'll pay more attention in the future."

She sighs in annoyance and wrings her hands for several moments, seeming to debate what the proper response is to my comment. But in the end she only shakes her head, and mutters "There is a young girl from your school downstairs. I've let her in, even though she disgusts me, but it's only because she tells me she's your lab partner." She eyes me suspiciously. "Is she lying to me, Justin?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded. She showed up, and I can't believe it. But it's not like I'm happy she did. She was supposed to arrive last night, at eight o'clock; but instead she waited until this morning. She can't just do that...she can't just walk around and pretend that its okay to do as she pleases. I feel myself growing angrier with each passing second, and I really don't want to let Grandmother know what's going on. "No Grandmother, she‘s not lying," I manage quietly. "She and I were going to go over some things this morning before class, so we can better prepare ourselves for the lesson."

"Mm," she grunts and gives me the once over. "Make sure you neaten your hair and wear the suit that Selma pressed last night."

"Yes ma'am."

Then she walks away, and once I'm sure she's gone, I slam the door in frustration. She's really here. She's downstairs, probably sitting on the sofa listening to Grandmother ramble on and on about how great our family is and how she should feel honored to be in our presence. Maybe Grandmother has a point...maybe we are better than her. But then again, I know I don't believe that. I wasn't raised to believe that I was better than anybody else, simply because my family had money. My parents always taught me to treat others like I would want to be treated, and really...after living with Grandmother all this time, I'm sure my father didn't pick up that kind of mentality from her. I bet Grandfather was much different. He was probably kind, not so stubborn and set in his ways. I wish I could have known him. Maybe if I had, I'd feel a little bit better about living in this house. But I didn't know him. In fact, before the fire, I had only met Grandmother once, at a funeral. My parent's smiles seemed forced for her that day, but I was too young to really grasp the tension between them.

But after seeing how she is...I can't say I blame my father for not wanting anything to do with her.

I strip out of my nightclothes silently, trying to hold my tears back for the fear of somebody being able to tell that I've been crying when I make my appearance downstairs. I literally take a three minute shower, shake the water out of my hair...and manage to get my suit on without wrinkling it. Before I open my door again, I hear Fritz whimper a little. Funny, it's almost like he's afraid for me...like he knows what I have to face everyday at school. As if my beloved animal is a child, I crouch down and peck him on the nose. "It's okay boy," I smile. "Don't worry about me. I'm smart...I can handle it.

He licks my face, but of course...this doesn't reassure me. And as I exit my bedroom I can only pray that today will go a little better than yesterday afternoons pants dropping incident.

******************

I've heard a lot of rumors about the Timberlake estate. Mostly from Heather and Tiffany. Tiffany's brother used to mow her lawn and pick up her grocery list from the market for a measly fifteen dollars. You would think all of that back breaking effort from a thirteen year old would have persuaded the woman to invite him in for some lemonade or something. Yeah right. The woman is as cold as they come...and anybody that runs an errand for her is simply a lower form of being in her mind. With this is mind, I can't really blame Justin for being such a weirdo. I'm sure the woman controls his every move, makes him wear those god awful suits to school everyday...and keeps him cooped up in this house like some sort of hermit. It makes me feel even worse for the kid...but I'm not about to get into any of it with him this morning. As it is, I totally ditched him last night, and I'm sure he's going to hate me forever for that mishap...if he doesn't already.

It's not like I wanted to ditch him. Really, last night would have been the perfect opportunity to get a head start on the project, and get Justin to come out of his hard ass shell at the same time. What I didn't' count on though, was my brother falling off the jungle gym at his after school program. He broke his arm. I got called out of cheerleading not even twenty minutes after I'd promised Justin I'd go to his house, and I spent the rest of the evening in the emergency room...with a screaming seven year old brother and six year old sister who wanted to go home and watch cartoons. Okay...I know I probably could have called him back and told him what was going on; but when you have an injured child screaming in pain, it's impossible to focus on anything else.

So much for proving myself to dork boy.

When I knocked on the door, I wasn't surprised to be greeted by the maid. I explained who I was, and then she smiled at me...something I was pretty confused about. She introduced herself to me as Selma, and invited me inside. I was a little hesitant, as I hadn't been greeted properly by the lady of the house and I didn't want to seem rude. But Selma practically yanked me inside and shut the door behind me, so I can't say I had much of a choice. Then, I was led through an elegant looking foyer and into what I figured was the sitting room. Selma told me to sit on the blue suede sofa, and I couldn't help but look around in awe. The place was so fancy...nothing like I'm accustomed. So fancy in fact, that the couch almost looked too fragile to sit on. I was nervous, and told Selma I was fine standing....but then she put her hands on her hips and said: "Child, you jes betta sit yaself down."

I listened, as Selma's look had been very commanding and I didn't want to upset her. A few awkward minutes later, Gertrude Timberlake herself came in to greet me...and it wasn't a very pleasant experience. She didn't treat me as a guest in her home, but as a minority...like she could see right through me...like she could tell I was ‘of the lower class'. It made me want to scream a bunch of filthy words at her and run out of there, but I knew that could result in Justin getting an earful from the woman, and so...I remained calm when she started playing twenty questions with me. She wanted to know who I was, where I lived(which I lied about by the way), and what ‘my intentions' were with her grandson. I told her I didn't have any ‘intentions' for her grandson, which in a way...was also a lie. I'd been propositioned, hell...threatened by Ricky to make Justin's life more of a living hell or face the consequences. Part of me felt horrible acting like the good, sweet girl next door. But then again, I know that if I hadn't she would have thrown me out of her monstrous house.

So here I am, still sitting...waiting for Justin to make his grand appearance. By the looks of things, he's running a little late, and I don't know why but I'm a little worried. Despite the fact that I hardly know him at all, I can tell it's not like him to be late. It makes me wonder if it's my fault for not showing up, but when I hear his heavy footsteps in the hallway I realize I have no more time to worry about what I'm going to say to him. I have to face this now...try to explain myself to him without sounding pathetic, even though I know I will and he'll probably call me a lying bitch. But I wont blame him for being angry. He's under a lot of stress as it is without me fucking up his life more.

"Hi." My voice is hardly audible and I rise to my feet when he finally comes into view. He looks a little tired, very withdrawn, and extremely irritated that I'm in his house. "I...um...I didn't mean..."

He holds up an impatient hand. "Save it," he mutters, before walking past me and into the kitchen.

I shouldn't follow him, I should give him his space, leave, and try to talk to him at school...but I can't help myself. I have no idea why, but it kills me that I've hurt his feelings. I don't know...I guess it's like I've said all along...he's so innocent. Like, he's doesn't deserve to be put through all of this...like...he deserves a break. I don't get it, and now that I'm standing in the kitchen I'm confusing myself even more...but at the same time I can't make myself leave.

"Here." Selma quickly hands him a piece of cornbread and a bagged lunch. "Get ya self to school."

He nods sadly, and doesn't give me a second look as he exits through the back door.

"I tink you have a big problem with my bawy?" Selma nods, knowingly.

I feel myself blush a little. "I...just..."

"Here." She hands me a piece of cornbread and pats my behind. "Go afta him. Dat bawy needs sombady...and it might as well be you."

I'm almost tempted to ask the nice Selma lady why it is that Justin needs somebody...why it is that he's such a braniac and so matter of fact about everything. But I don't know, that would probably be crossing the line. Whatever goes on in Justin's personal life isn't my business or anybody else's. In fact, I'm sure his personal life isn't very exciting...or even happy, because if it was, I'm sure he would be a hell of a lot more confident when those assholes make him look bad. It makes me start to think about his family. Why does he live with his horrible grandmother? Where the hell are his parents?

"Miss?"

I look at Selma again, and laugh nervously. "Sorry...I'm going. It was nice meeting you."

"Mmhmm," she chuckles and nods. "See you again, maybe?"

I just shrug, and walk out the door, hoping that Justin hasn't decided to run all the way to school so he can avoid me. But when I find him sitting in the car in the driveway, I guess it's a lot later than I thought. He'll never make it if he walks now, and I know that means I wont either. Hell, I want to talk to him anyway...so it can't hurt for me to ask him for a ride. I make my way over to the car and tap on the window, and for awhile he pretends to ignore me...but when I start to knock on it annoyingly, he gives in and rolls it down.

"You're going to make me late," he mutters. "Just get in." He presses a button on the control panel and I hear the sound of the locks popping up.

I think...yay a ride, because I really hate walking to school. But as I make my way around to the passenger side and get in, I start to think it was probably a better idea if I walked to school. Justin looks infuriated, and he turns the key harshly in the Town Car's ignition to prove his feelings to me.

"What the hell do you want now?," he grunts, and runs a hand through his messy curls.

"I thought we could talk," I say quietly. "I know you're still mad about yesterday..."

"Correct," he snaps, forcefully. "I'm angry with you, Meredith. So...I don't understand why you're trying to talk to me right now. I have nothing to say to you. You stood me up last night, and I...I waited for you. I waited for a long time. I...do you think I have time to sit around while you're off with your stupid friends? I told you in the beginning..."

"God!" I scream it at him and immediately, his eyes go wide and he shuts up. "Fuck Justin, I didn't do it on purpose!"

The fact that I'm yelling isn't helping things. It seems to make him nervous, and for a moment the only thing he seems to know how to do is stare at me. I wish I could take it back...but hell, I'm angry that he's not giving me a chance. It wasn't my fault that my brother got hurt, and it's not my fault that I'm the primary caretaker of my siblings after school. My papa works hard for us, and I do it out of respect for him. After all, if it wasn't for his compassion I would have been cast into a foster home. I owe it to him to make life a little easier, even if it means I have to sacrifice some aspects of my social life once in a while.

"Well fine," he mutters, and begins to back out of the driveway. "It doesn't matter. I'll get the work done myself, and if you want to take credit for it then I can't really stop you. I'm comfortable with the whole loser image you and your friends have created for me...so really, there's no hard feelings Meredith. If you could just maybe give me a few dollars for the supplies, I'd be very grateful." He reaches the bottom of the drive way and gives me a disgusted look as he puts the car into drive and surges forward.

I feel myself begin to pout. Okay, so maybe he's a little bit right. I can be a selfish, ignorant little bitch just like the rest of my friends a lot of the time. Lord knows, Justin's seen plenty of that side of me already. But he doesn't know.. He doesn't know that I can be a caring person...the kind of person that would do anybody a favor if they were in a bind. I know his negative attitude towards me is my own fault too, but somehow...I feel like he's supposed to understand why I've been treating him the way I have all this time. It's not like I've had much of a choice. The whole school thinks Justin Timberlake is a laughing stock, and for me to just...take him under my wing would be horribly devastating to my reputation. And well, my reputation is all I have to fall back on at the moment. "Justin...if you'd just..."

"I don't want to fucking hear it."

I gasp. It's weird that I get all freaked out every time I hear him use profanity. It's not like those words are foreign to me...hell, I use them all the time. I guess it's that whole innocence thing coming into play again. He looks...too innocent to be saying things like that. Like some sort of angel that can do no wrong.

God, what the hell? Gag me.

"You're not even giving me a chance to explain things," I snap at him after a few minutes. "It's like I've been trying to tell you...I didn't ditch you on purpose."

He sighs as we stop at the red light, and taps his fist lightly on the leather steering wheel. "Uh huh."

I'm not the type of person that has a ton of patience, and I hate when people accuse me of things I didn't do, or call me I liar when I haven't said anything that wasn't true. I thought Justin would be too smart to act like this, like an immature little baby. But then again, I don't know him that well, and really...besides the fact that he has a good head on his shoulders, he's probably just like any other kid that goes to Hanson. I need to stop putting him up on this fucking pedestal...I really do. After all, he is the biggest dork in school. "My brother fell off the jungle gym at his after school program," I say quickly so he can't interrupt. "He broke his arm and I had to haul ass to the emergency room in the middle of rush hour, Justin. I was going to call you...but things got really hectic and I just..." I pause and sigh, before rubbing my eyes with my hands. "I guess it just slipped my mind."

It's silent as the light turns green, and Justin accelerates without speaking up. He does look a little concerned though...but I'm not sure why. Is it because he's understanding? Or is he just wondering how long it took me to make up that story. Christ, I hope he's not going to be that way. It's the truth...I would never...

"I guess I need to believe you. You don't seem like the type of girl that would throw her little brother into this mess without a good reason."

He's not looking at me, but his comment was enough to make me smile a little. "So you..."

"I don't know," he cuts me off. "I guess I can forget about last night and stuff. As long as you know...it was a family emergency..." His voice trails off and as we pause at a stop sign, he starts to get a little distant. So much in fact, that I nearly have to wave my hand in front of his face to get him to start moving again. He snaps out of it just in time though; shaking his head and running a hand through his mess of hair. "But don't think I'm about to drop everything and trust you. I...I'm still really unsure about you." He finally looks at me, his eyes sad...desperate. He's desperate for something...someone. He's lost, I think. But I can't just bring it up.

"I understand," I whisper, and sink down into the seat. "But seriously, Justin...all I want to do is get through this project with you. You know, work hard, get a good grade and stuff so I can pass. I swear, there wont be any other mishaps...unless of course, my accident prone siblings get into it again."

I see a small smile creep out from the corner of his mouth, but he quickly draws it back. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "We'll see."