

# Come Play Studios

_Almost Famous_ website: www.southlouisianahighschool.weebly.com
Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by E.J. Mara

Quote

Prologue

Chapter One

Tuesday, February 27, 2015

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Wednesday, February 28, 2015

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Thursday, March 1, 2015

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Friday, March 2, 2015

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

PART II

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Saturday, March 3, 2015

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tuesday, March 6, 2015

Epilogue

What's next?

Copyright Notice

#

The South Louisiana High Series

**Identity - The Origin** **Story**

Karen, Nathaniel, & Tessa's Story

**Almost Friends - Book One**

Mia, Kyle, & Elizabeth's Story

**Almost Twins - Book Two**

Andy, Gia, & Via's Story

**Almost Famous - Book Three**

Drew's Story

**Almost Brave - Book Four**

Gina's Story

**Almost Human - Book Five**

For more information about the South Louisiana High book series, visit

www.southlouisianahighschool.weebly.com
_"Contrary to popular belief, fame is not love."_

_-Anonymous_

#

Present Day - March 2, 2015

_Swamp Rose, Louisiana_

OK. Here's the truth: Whether Benjamin Morris is in love with me or not, I love him and I refuse to let him die.

I never thought I could love anyone, let alone Ben. But that's exactly what's happened and that's why I've just knocked on the door of our pervy history teacher's ratty apartment - this is _all for a sixteen-year-old Star Wars obsessed geek named Ben_.

I take a deep breath and meet Mr. Brown's beady eyes. He's waiting for me to answer his question...

"Drew?" The female voice that nearly deafens my left eardrum is _not_ Mr. Brown's. It belongs to a South Louisiana High cheerleader named Mia Reeves and it is way too loud as it comes through the tiny earpiece we bought from Tech Mania.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Mia demands. "Tell Mr. Brown yes, you _do_ want to come in for a cup of coffee!"

As much as I despise Mia, she's right. I've been standing here for nearly ten seconds in silence. I need to move this along. Ben's life depends on it.

So, I adjust my backpack on my shoulders and offer our history teacher my sweetest smile. Mr. Brown tries to return it, but his grin looks like a grimace and a brief expression of panic takes hold of his features. I've definitely startled him, showing up on his doorstep like this.

"I don't usually drink coffee, but since you offered..." I let my voice trail off, step out of his doorway and saunter across the rust-colored carpet that fills his dingy apartment. I pass his mud-colored couch and make my way to a brick wall where he's got a mantelshelf filled with framed pictures and dust bunnies. Below this is a miniature fireplace that looks like it hasn't been used in years.

I repress a sneeze. Yikes. This apartment is dustier than the inside of Mia's skull.

"Hurry up," Mia whispers. "Get him to go to the kitchen."

I roll my eyes at her bossiness and stand on my tiptoes to get a good look at one of the mantelshelf's framed pictures.

If I'm going to somehow find _and then steal_ Mr. Brown's hard drive without him noticing, the first thing I need to do is make him feel comfortable - too comfortable to realize what I'm stealing. So Mia and her bossiness will just have to wait until I've worked my magic.

I stare at the photo, which contains a younger version of my history teacher. He looks about eighteen and in addition to a graduation cap and gown, he wears a fake smile. He stands squashed between a poorly dressed elderly man and woman who aim proud grins at the camera.

I point to the picture. "Is this you, Mr. Brown?"

"No small talk, Drew! Just get him to go to the kitchen," Mia hisses. "His bedroom is just past there and it'll be easier to get to if you're already in the kitchen."

I squelch my desire to rip my earpiece out and stomp it into oblivion. As much as I'd like to do this, it would be a bad move. So, I just turn to Mr. Brown with an expectant smile.

"Yeah," he replies in that bizarre voice of his. "That's me when I graduated from high school."

I'd call Mr. Brown's voice _horny_ , but then I wouldn't because it'd sound like I mean something else entirely. What I actually mean is that his voice sounds like a horn- nasally and soft and super-annoying.

"Those people with you, are they your parents?" I ask as I turn back to the picture.

"My aunt and uncle."

Behind me, Mr. Brown's footsteps, careful and slow, tread across the carpet and stop a few feet away from me.

I get it. He doesn't want to stand too close to the jailbait who's shown up at his doorstep on a Saturday afternoon. Well, good for him for not being as much of a creep as I expected. Still, though, I don't trust him. He radiates with the kind of ick vibe a girl just shouldn't ignore.

I shift my book bag on my shoulders and turn to him. "They look really proud of you, your aunt and uncle."

"Yeah." He clears his throat and runs a pale hand along the unshaved scruff at his jaw. "They're very supportive."

"Hopefully one day I'll have a picture of my aunt hugging me in my cap and gown." I widen my eyes in innocence and try not to think about the fact that I don't actually have an aunt. "That's why I wanted to talk to you about tutoring. My grades are terrible and I'm so scared I'm not going to pass. If I flunk, _Celebrity Gossip_ will have a field day with that. They already post stories about my mother every week."

Mr. Brown smiles and pushes his glasses up on his nose. "I can't even imagine how rough that must be. But just because the media doesn't give you a break doesn't mean you have to be so hard on yourself. Your history grades are decent. And this is only your first year in a public school, right?"

Mr. Brown is being so nice that I almost feel bad about what I'm doing - _almost_.

"Yeah. Back home I had tutors. But they let me do whatever I wanted and now that I'm in a regular school, I feel like I'm way behind everyone else."

"I see." Mr. Brown seems to relax a bit and he nods. "Well, tenth grade can be tough, especially in your situation. I don't have a problem with tutoring you maybe two or three nights a week and..."

"Drew!" Mia's voice sounds in my ear and I try not to visibly wince while she shouts, "We're calling his phone in fifteen seconds. If you're not already in the kitchen, tell him you want the coffee and follow him to the kitchen _right_ _now_!"

As much as I hate her, she's right. It's time to get moving.

"Oh em gee, I almost forgot!" I exclaim, interrupting Mr. Brown. "I have an appointment across town in, like, twenty minutes. So, would you mind if I got that coffee? And then I'd better head out so I won't be late."

"Oh, uh, sure. He heads to the kitchen and I follow. All the while, I blast our would-be silence to smithereens by asking him whatever questions pop into my mind.

I learned this trick from my mother -although with her it's not exactly "a trick." It's more like my mother has no brain-to-mouth filter when she's been drinking. It's a great way to distract people from paying attention to what I'm _doing_. They get so confused by the tons of questions I'm asking them that they don't notice me grabbing their phone and rifling through their contacts for Bradley Cooper's number. Trust me, it works. Just ask Bradley Cooper.

"Do you like Starbucks? Or are you more of a Coffee Etc's fan?" I ramble. "I'd never even heard of Coffee Etc's until I moved here. Back home, I practically lived at Starbucks. I loved their hot chocolate. They have this great salted caramel hot chocolate. Have you ever tried it? And have you tried their pumpkin spice ... "

Mr. Brown's kitchen is surprisingly nice. The cheerful colors - happy yellow and warm red - are a huge difference from his living room, which appears to have been drenched in brown. Across from me, on the far side of the kitchen is the door to his bedroom, just like Mia said, and I hear noise coming from it. It sounds like a television.

"Yes, I am a fan of Starbucks and no, I've never tried their salted caramel hot chocolate, but that sounds good." He's reaching for the coffee pot, halfway turned to me when a phone rings in his living room.

_Perfect_. I bite down on my bottom lip.

"I'd better get that," Mr. Brown says. "Excuse me."

"Okay, I'll wait for you here." I grin.

"You do that." He winks.

_Gross_. Trying not to look as uncomfortable as I feel, I fake a chuckle. He sets his coffee pot back down on the warming plate and returns to the living room.

_Did that fool really just wink at me?_ Shaking my head in disgust, I turn on my heel, and head for the door from which television noises are emitting.

"Go through the door that's right by the calendar pinned to the wall," Mia whispers. "That's Mr. Brown's bedroom."

"I know, Mia," I retort. "I'm looking right at it."

How does she know the layout of his apartment anyway? I frown. Actually, considering the rumors I've heard about Mia, I don't even want to know the answer to that question.

I creep into my history teacher's bedroom and look around. In the middle of the room is an unmade king-sized bed, its light blue sheets strewn every which way. A small television is mounted to the wall across from the bed.

One of my favorite Sonic commercials is on, one of the funnier ones featuring two guys arguing about whether they should order tater tots or fries. I turn away from it and continue to scan the room, searching for Mr. Brown's laptop.

It's got to be here somewhere. It _has to_. It's the only thing that will save Ben's life. My heart pounding, I turn to a dresser at my right. On top of it sits a picture of Mr. Brown's aunt and uncle, a current copy of the South Louisiana High yearbook, and a flip phone that looks like a relic from the early 2000's. No hard drive.

My heart takes a nose dive straight into my stomach. _I need to find this stupid thing!_

"Drew," Mia hisses. "Kyle's got him on the phone for, like, sixty more seconds, you need to hurry up."

"I know," I whisper-shout, panic creeping into my voice. I turn to a small nightstand at the left of Mr. Brown's bed.

Frantic, I scan its contents. An alarm clock, a lamp, a laptop with a hard drive, a self-help book... the hard drive! _Thank God_.

I race towards the tiny black device and pick it up, relief washing over me.

"I'm Chad Block," a familiar voice announces, "and this is a commercial for _Late Night with Chad Block_ on MVS."

The hard drive in hand and my panic temporarily allayed, I turn my attention to Mr. Brown's television. Chad Block's familiar smile stares back at me. Behind him, the _Late Night_ set is just as I remember.

It's hard to believe that less than six months ago, _that's_ where I was. I had no idea who Benjamin Morris was and I'd never even heard of Swamp Rose, Louisiana. I was living in Los Angeles and I was almost famous. It was an entirely different life and, somehow, it led to this...

#

Six Months Ago - September, 2014

_Burbank, California_

All I'd ever wanted, was to be a star. And now, this was my opportunity to shine-

"Drew?" A whiny voice interrupted my thoughts and I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped.

As much as I wanted to ignore the voice, I couldn't. After all, who ignores their own mother?

Lenora Everett was stretched out on one of the plush purple couches in the green room of America's most watched late show, _Late Night with Chad Block_. And as usual, she was wasted.

"I can't believe you're here," Lenora drawled. She shoved a strand of her honey blonde hair out of her eyes. Everything about her seemed stuck in slow motion, her voice, her movements, even her every blink. "My baby girl on Chad Block's show. I always knew your sister would make it, she's got my looks. But you? Who would've guessed you'd make it this far?"

I rolled my eyes and turned away from her. I couldn't let her ruin this. When one of the world's most prestigious filmmakers was depending on you to promote her movie on Chad Block's late show, you didn't let anything get in your way. Not even your alcoholic mother.

I straightened my posture, tuned out the sound of Lenora's voice, and forced my thoughts back to the Amelia Hearth film I shot last summer.

Spending three months in a mosquito-infested Louisiana swamp with an overly intense director definitely had its downside. Amelia was a perfectionist, with a tendency to reshoot every scene eighty billion times. But her eccentricities also made her an Oscar-winning genius. And because of her, for the first time in my career, I'd starred in a buzzworthy feature film.

So, with a killer black and gold Versace dress clinging to my curves, a sleek new haircut that _Celebrity Gossip_ said, "enunciated my cheekbones," and a simple black sharpie in my right hand, I peered at the other names on the cement wall Chad Block's stage manager had instructed me to sign.

My gold, "May The Force Be With You" engraved bracelets clanged against each other as I lifted a hand and prepared to add my autograph to the slew of famous signatures already on the wall.

This was it. I was only sixteen and I'd already made it. I steadied myself on my heels and signed the wall. I always knew I'd make it. Even when the media insisted on comparing me to my older sister and when I found myself stuck in typecast hell, only able to score roles as the "sassy black friend" in made-for-television movies - even then I'd known I'd make it. I was right.

I scrawled my name on the bumpy cement, a chill shimmying down my spine.

I wasn't nervous. I was just excited.

I took a step back and appraised my work. __ My autograph was perfect. Bold and elegant, it sat between J.J. Abrams and Zac Efron's.

Perfect. I was right between the director of one of my favorite movies ( _Star Wars_!) and the cutest guy in Hollywood.

I put the top on the Sharpie and tried to ignore the one, very drunk problem who wouldn't stop talking.

"...you're on in, what? Fifteen minutes. Where's your hair and makeup lady?" Lenora said, her voice loud and her words garbled. "She should've been here at least thirty minutes ago."

"True," I agreed, glancing at the time on my phone. "Actually, I think I'm on in less than five minutes." My heart skipped a beat. I took a quick selfie and examined it.

Flawless. My anxiety lessened and I smiled. I didn't even need hair and makeup.

"Drew, baby girl, I have to say - I hate those earrings on you. Here, wear mine. Come and get these earrings, baby." Lenora's slurred command was followed by a crashing noise - a sound that was all too familiar.

When you're raised by an actress who's been addicted to every prescription drug known to woman, you grow accustomed to the sound of a falling bottle of pills.

I turned around and Lenora was slumped forward, trying to grab a fallen bottle of meds. Anger rose in my chest and I clenched my fists. _Pills_? She promised she was over that. She said her only problem left was alcohol!

Lenora fell off the couch and onto the floor. It was the slowest and most pathetic tumble I'd ever seen- her large, collagen-infused lips hitting the floor before the rest of her face. But I was too angry to laugh. Instead, I cursed under my breath.

_Why am I even surprised by this?_

I tossed the Sharpie onto a nearby chair and headed for my mother. __ Unsteady on my four-inch heels as I teetered towards her, I tried to remind myself of the things her AA sponsor had explained: _this isn't who Lenora really is; she has a disease and what I'm seeing right now is the disease._

But sometimes even those justifications didn't help - sometimes they just felt like excuses.

How could this be a disease when it was something she chose? She decided to get high and every time she did, she was deciding to ruin my life!

"Am I bleeding? I feel like I'm bleeding," Lenora drawled, her words barely understandable as she used both of her hands to paw around the linoleum.

"When did you take the pills?" I demanded as I stumbled over the fallen meds. "Did you take them on the way here? I knew we shouldn't have taken separate cars..." I shook my head at my own stupidity.

I thought I could leave her alone for a forty-five minute car ride. I thought, " _Sure. I can let Chad Block's limo pick me up and enjoy a peaceful Lenora-free ride to the studio. My mother can be trusted on her own for the length of a car ride._ "

Why did I think that was possible? I was an idiot for trusting her.

"Drew, it's not what you think," Lenora whined. "The pills are for my scoliosis." Placing her palms flat against the linoleum, she finally managed to lift her top half from the floor. "I had to take something because my spine was trying to realign, and-"

"You don't _have_ scoliosis," I snapped. "The only thing you have is an addiction prob-" Several pills rolled under the platform of my right shoe and sent me sliding forwards. I fell back and landed on my butt with a thud.

At first, I didn't feel anything except shock. I just lay on the floor, staring at the green room's ceiling and trying to catch my breath.

A few feet away, I heard Lenora shout, "My pills!"

That's when my butt and right arm began to throb. I groaned and pushed myself up with my good arm.

Lenora was already back on her feet. "Drew, get up," she ordered, her hands shaking while she pointed at me. "Get off my pills; you're crushing them. Do you know how expensive those were?"

The pain in my arm worsened.

_This can't be happening. I'm supposed to be on live television in less than five minutes!_

I thought about my dance teacher, Winnie, and wished she were there with me instead of my mother. I could nearly hear her voice: "Drew, you're a star. Act like one."

I was a star. With Winnie's voice in my head, I grabbed the edge of a nearby chair and pushed myself to my feet. Pain shot from my shoulder to my elbow. I cringed. The ache was so sharp, it made my stomach turn. __ Mind over matter. If I told myself I was all right, eventually I'd really be all right.

I glanced at Lenora as she popped one of the floor's half-crushed pills into her mouth. An invisible weight sank down onto my shoulders.

I wished kids could choose their parents. Life would be so much easier if we could design our own DNA.

Lenora adjusted her dress and one of her boobs popped out.

But that wasn't the way it worked. We were supposed to make the best of what we'd been given. And in my case, I'd gotten DNA of nothing but failure. And I was, somehow, supposed to make the best of it.

The green room door swung open and _Late Night's_ head-set wearing stage manager, a woman named Dawn Bennett, rushed our way. Her gaze was glued to the clipboard in her hands as she said my name, "Drew!"

"Yes?" Preparing myself, I straightened my spine. _I might have Lenora's DNA, but that doesn't mean I have her weaknesses._

Dawn's brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that swung from side to side as she hurried towards us. Her gaze still glued to the clipboard, she spoke quickly. "Sorry it took me so long to get back here. We're running _way_ behind and you're on in-" Dawn finally looked up and her eyes widened. She came to an abrupt halt, her gaze going from Lenora - who was exposed, cross-eyed, and eating pills from the floor - to me.

"Dawn." I spoke with as much dignity as I could muster. "My mother is, obviously, very high at the moment and as a result, she's suffered a bad fall." The petite stage manager's eyes were all over me, assessing my posture, my hair, my dress, my _everything_. I held her gaze while I continued, "So, while I'm being interviewed would you have someone sit with her to make sure she's okay? I'm not sure how many pills she took."

"Absolutely. I can arrange that. No worries." Dawn nodded and, without skipping a beat, grabbed my arm. "Come with me so I can get you to Chad. In fact, once you're onstage, I'll check on your mom myself."

"Okay, perfect." I winced as pain shot up my arm.

"Are you all right?" Dawn asked, immediately releasing my arm.

"I hurt my arm when I was trying to help my mother," I confessed. "But I'm all right."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." My stomach turned and I stifled a rush of puke. "Mostly."

"Don't worry. You're going to do great. You're a pro!" Dawn offered me a bright smile.

It _almost_ covered the panic in her eyes. But I'm an actress. I can spot a lie from a mile away. And Dawn's panic was legit. If I botched this interview, my screw up wouldn't just come back to haunt _me_ \- but as the stage manager, Dawn would get in trouble too. She would be blamed for running behind schedule. Not to mention that a failed interview would piss off Amelia Hearth and everyone who had invested in the movie she was trusting me to promote.

So, no matter how much I wanted to duck into a corner and vomit while crying over my possibly broken arm, I couldn't. I _had to_ pull myself together and walk onto that stage with a 1,000-watt smile.

Dawn gestured to the door. "Now, let's get to the stage as quickly as possible, okay?"

"Yep, let's do this!" I returned her smile with a gusto that I hoped to God looked real.

Dawn rushed to the door ahead and I followed, wishing I'd worn flats. We made our way through several winding corridors and Dawn told me that some makeup artist named Breezy would catch up with us and give me a touch up.

Unfortunately, "Breezy" never showed up. And before I knew it, Dawn had come to a halt in a dark backstage corridor where Chad's voice surrounded us.

"We are _so_ late. Chad's going to have my head," Dawn murmured while she fumbled with a tiny lapel microphone.

I shifted on my feet and listened to Chad's amplified voice as it rang out around us. "...and that's what Gaga thought too! No, I'm joking, I love Lady Gaga, she's amazing. Gaga aside, our next guest has been referred to as 'Hollywood's next rising star' and Amelia Hearth called her, 'the kind of actress every director loves to work with.' Please welcome the star of Amelia Hearth's latest film, _I Already Knew_..."

Thunderous applause filled my ears and Dawn, facing me as she stuck the tiny microphone to the front of my dress, pointed to a well-lit area just ahead. Jabbing the air with her finger, she nodded in the same direction and whispered, "You're mic'd and we're just in time - go _now_! You've got this, Drew."

_Dear God, please don't let me vomit._

I plastered on a dazzling smile, smoothed down my dress, and forced my shaking legs towards the light.

_I can do this. I am not my mother..._

Cameras and bright lights blocked the studio audience from view, but I pretended to see them as I smiled, waved, and mouthed, "Thank you!" With this, I turned away from the lights and came face-to-face with Chad Block, who was clapping as wildly as the audience.

_Jesus, he's hot._

Six-foot-something with sun-kissed blond hair and those trademark blue eyes of his, Chad Block was the most effective pain killer I'd ever seen; my butt-pain, arm-throbbing, and nausea diminished in a way that was nearly mystical.

Blowing him a kiss, which he pretended to catch and put in his pocket, I made my way to the handsome host. Chad took my hands and lightly kissed me on my cheek. He smelled straight up divine - like sandalwood and fresh mint. And to my surprise, he lingered at my cheek to whisper, "You okay?"

"Never better," I replied, widening my smile.

With this, Chad released me and gestured to the navy blue couch beside his desk. "Please, Drew, make yourself comfortable. Welcome to my humble abode."

I sat down and turned to him. He wiped the corner of one of his eyes. I smiled into those blue eyes of his, trying to remember how old he was. _I think he's twenty-six... that's only ten years older than me. I could work with that._ He gave me a pointed look and wiped the corner of his eye again.

_Wait...is he trying to tell me something?_

While the audience's applause died down, Chad's lips twitched with a smile. He glanced down at his desk and then back at me. "So... hi, Drew."

The audience laughed.

_Why are they laughing?_

Confused, I looked at the audience. No one was telling them to laugh. But for some reason every one of the potato-faced randos occupying a chair was cackling.

I realized that my best option was to pretend like I was in on the joke. So, I giggled and said, "Hi, Chad. How's it going?" I shifted around on the couch and accidently moved my bad arm a little too far to the left.

The temporarily plugged pain sprung a leak, making me wince. I covered the wince with a quick smile and glanced at Chad.

My heart plunged when I saw that he was frowning at me. "Forgive me," he said. "But I have to ask; while you were backstage, did you and Stage Hand Sam get into a fight?"

_Stage Hand Sam? This must be a joke._

I nodded and faked a chuckle. "Yep. Knock-down, drag out."

The audience laughed and I turned to give them a conspiratorial smile when I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the camera's view screens. Blotches of makeup and mascara had given me raccoon eyes and a large white stain, care of Lenora's crushed pills, graced the shoulder of my once beautiful black Versace dress.

_Oh my God, I look like a crackhead on live television! Over two million people watch this show!_

"So, what was that fight about?" Chad asked.

I tried not to panic. Thinking quickly, I clasped my clammy palms together in my lap and said the first thing that came to mind. "We were... arguing about which one of my movies is the best."

"Well, that was a pretty rough fight. I think we managed to get some footage." Chad pointed to a camera just ahead and said, "Let's see it."

Footage? __ I watched Chad motion to a guy who sat offstage, surrounded by computer equipment. At the sight of Chad's gesture, the man nodded and bent down, working on something. I guessed he was trying to recover a clip that would somehow save this unscripted moment.

The clip began to roll and the audience howled with laughter. I turned to Chad, but he wasn't looking at me. A finger at his left ear, he whispered, "While we're playing this clip, get Breezy to the stage. Drew needs her." He turned to me and sighed sympathetically. "I heard you had a fall backstage. Sorry about that. Do I need to fire anyone? I can do that you know. I'm very important."

He was _so_ hot. __ I smiled. "Take me to dinner this Friday and I'll let you off the hook."

Chad chuckled. "Maybe in a few years. The first Friday of your twenty-first birthday, I'll give you a call. How about that?"

"Deal." I grinned and offered him my hand. He laughed and shook it. "And I'm going to hold you to that."

"I bet you will," he said with a shake of his head. "All jokes aside, we're stoked to have you here. How's the infamous Amelia Hearth, by the way? I heard she's been spending a lot of time at her new studio in Louisiana."

"Yeah." I nodded. "Since she finished building Alyssum Studios South, Louisiana's been like home to her."

"I heard the new studio's gorgeous," Chad said. "Did you get to film any scenes there?"

"Yeah, a ton! And Alyssum Studios is the prettiest thing in that mosquito-ridden swamp of a state."

Chad gave me a look. "I take it you didn't like Louisiana very much?"

"Let's just say I will _never_ step foot in Louisiana again. It's the epitome of-" Before I could finish my sentence, a blonde woman with more weave than Beyoncé ran onstage and began harassing my cheeks with a brush. She smelled like bubblegum.

"I assume you're Breezy," I hissed.

"Yeah."

I lowered my voice so Chad couldn't hear me. "Nice of you to finally show up. Now that everyone in America's seen me looking like I'm auditioning for _The Walking Dead_ -"

"Miss Everett, please keep your mouth closed," Breezy said, interrupting my rant. Despite my annoyance, I did as told and Breezy's makeup brush swept across my eyelids, cheek bones, and chin while my stomach turned.

"Ten seconds, Breezy," Chad warned, his voice quiet.

Next thing I knew, the audience was clapping and Breezy's bubble gum scent was drifting away.

I opened my eyes and Chad was looking at me, his fist aimed at my hand. "Put her here, Drew. You kicked Sam's butt!"

Playing along, I swallowed my vomit, smiled, and returned his fist bump.

As the audience's laughter died down, Chad continued. "So you're the daughter of Oscar-winning actress, Lenora Everett?"

A few scattered claps followed his question. Clearly, at least three people in his audience remembered who my mother was before she became yet another Hollywood embarrassment.

"Yes, that would be my mother," I replied, my stomach gurgling.

"And not only that, but you're also the younger sister of world famous supermodel, Clara Ev-" Chad was cut off by generous applause and a slew of wolf whistles.

I glanced down at the gold trim on my dress and tried to steady my nerves. _You're not going to hurl, because you're fine. Really. You're perfectly all right._ I took a slow, deep breath and smiled as I looked up. "Yes, Clara's my older sister."

"Is that difficult?" Chad asked. "To pursue your own career when you already have family in the industry? Or do they make it easier in some respects?"

"That's a tough one to answer," I said, folding my hands in my lap. "My family's fame does make my life difficult, but I'm grateful for the challenge. If my family were just regular people, I wouldn't be the amazing actress that I am today."

I glanced at the audience, waiting for them to applaud. To my surprise, not one clap sounded.

I was being too serious. This was supposed to be a fun, late night show, not a Dr. Phil special.

"How exactly," Chad asked, leaning towards me, "has the experience of being born into a well-known family contributed to your craft?"

"That's a great question, Chad." My voice shook with nerves. I cleared my throat. "For example, in _I Already Knew,_ I play a girl who has mental issues and she's trying to get her life back together. Even though in my own life I've never attempted suicide, the illness my mother struggles with is something I-" Several shrieks sounded at my right and the audience stirred with confused whispers. Startled, I turned to the noise.

_Oh. No._

My stomach dropped.

Lenora, topless and grinning like she'd just won a beauty pageant, pranced out on stage. She waved to the audience and then proceeded to run towards me while several security guards emerged from backstage, chasing her.

As I watched the two guards catch up with my mother and attempt to restrain her, my ability to breathe faded. It just stopped. Instead of breathing, I listened to the sound of my racing heart, its every beat reverberating, louder and louder, in my eardrums. I could even feel it in my stomach- a speeding pulse that pounded so hard it shook the remnants of my lunch, sending them up to my esophagus.

"We're going to go to a commercial break," Chad said to the nearest camera. I turned to him, dizziness washing over me. I watched him take off his jacket, leave his desk and head for the half naked woman who was ruining his show.

I assumed the next thing Chad did was cover Lenora with his jacket, but I honestly don't know for sure because I suddenly threw up all over my new dress, the couch, my feet... everything. And then I blacked out, leaving me with no memory of the next few minutes.

I know that clips of my infamous interview are available online. And I know that the whole thing has been parodied, auto-tuned, and made fun of to a sickening degree, but I refuse to watch any such videos.

Later that afternoon, I woke up in a hospital with my arm in a sling and my agent, Reed Daniels, texting someone as he stood near my bedside.

"So, what's happening?" I asked, still groggy. I glanced at the sling covering my right arm before turning back to Reed's pudgy face.

His cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears red, which is what happens when Reed is annoyed. Even so, he forced his countenance into something near "calm" and gave me a nod. "Drew, how are you feeling?"

"Lovely, obviously," I replied dryly. "How long have I been out?"

"You had a pretty bad panic attack." Reed slipped his phone into his pocket and gave me his full attention. "You came to after about sixty seconds, but the doctors thought it'd be best to let you sleep. So, with the help of a sleep aid, you've been resting for three hours."

I tensed. "You let them give me drugs? Reed, you know I don't like that garbage! Why'd you let them drug me?"

Reed held up his hands. "I'm sorry. But the doctors thought it would be best. And I'm no doctor, I figured they knew what they were doing."

I sighed. "Whatever. Just don't let it happen again. I don't do sleep aids or anxiety pills. I am _not_ my mother."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

"So, um..." I gulped. "Did Chad's show air?" I knew the answer to that. The show was _live_ , of course it aired. I don't know why I even asked. Maybe I wanted to hear Reed reaffirm what I already knew just so I could feel a jolting shock of humiliation because deep down, I was as much of a masochist as my mother. I was, after all, a product of her self-destructive DNA.

"...you sprained your arm when you fell. The flowers on the windowsill are from Chad Block, and _this_ is from your mom." Reed set a small, peach envelope near my good arm.

I chose to ignore the envelope and, instead, turned to the windowsill where Chad's bouquet of yellow roses sat. They cheered up the otherwise drab white and blue hospital room.

I turned back to Reed. "Please feel free to adopt me, Reed. Have you ever had the sudden urge to adopt a nearly grown black kid?"

He smiled, his dark eyes softening as he tapped his fingers against the rail at my bedside. "Much as I'd like to, Lenora would have my head. You know she loves you."

"No, she doesn't. She wants to forget me." I ran my left hand along the light blue hospital sheets, smoothing them down with my palm. "Why do you think she's always using? I'm one of the failures she's trying to forget. That's fairly obvious."

"Drew, that's not true. You can't possibly believe that."

I didn't want __ to believe it, but it was logical. People drank to forget and they got high to escape. Since my dad died, Lenora's life had been nothing but failure. She'd been in a plethora of failed relationships and failed movies. And then there was me, a daughter who she hoped would become a successful actress and all I'd done was disappoint. Even the Amelia Hearth movie I'd scored was probably going to bomb thanks to my botched interview on Chad's show.

So, why wouldn't Lenora want an escape from her life - and from her disappointment of a daughter?

I shrugged. "Whatever, I don't care."

"You know," Reed said. "In your mother's note, which I don't blame you for not wanting to read, she explains that-"

"Can we not talk about her?" I cut in. Thirsty, I glanced around for a pitcher of water.

"Drew, hear me out for a second," Reed said. I sighed and rolled my eyes while he went on. "Lenora wrote that note because she's not here. As we speak, she's on her way to a fantastic rehab facility in Louisiana. It's the one I'd tried to get her to go to while you were filming _I Already Knew_ -"

"Good for her. Is there any water in here? I thought hospital rooms came with water," I interrupted, eyeing the faucet and sink on the other side of the room. If worse came to worse, I guessed I could drink tap water.

"Drew, sweetheart, listen. This is important," Reed said, his voice firm. I turned to glare at him and he continued. "What happened on Chad's show was a wake-up call. When your mom sobered up a little, she watched it and saw how much she'd hurt you."

I rolled my eyes. "How sober could she have gotten in, like, three hours?"

"Sober enough to realize what she needs to do. She signed up for a nine-month rehab program."

"At the place in Louisiana?"

"Yes," Reed said. "She's en route now, took off, literally, fifteen minutes ago."

I shrugged. "Good for her."

"Drew, I think she's going to stick to it this time and-"

I laughed. "Reed, you're a _Hollywood_ _agent_ , you can't be that naïve. Let's be realistic. The only positive outcome in all this is that I'll have the house to myself for nine months."

"That's the thing, Drew. Lenora wants you with her. She still owns the house you all used while you were filming in Louisiana. And we're making arrangements for you to relocate there and be enrolled in one of the nearby schools-"

"Relocate __ to Louisiana and enroll in school?" I sat up and searched Reed's expression for some hint of humor. "You're kidding."

"I'm not kidding. This is real."

My mouth went dry. "You're telling me I'm supposed to pick up my entire life, move to Louisiana and go to a friggin 'local school'?" I screamed, making Reed jump. "Reed, this is why you don't let crackheads make life-altering decisions! What were you thinking?"

"Sweetheart, I know it's going to be rough but it's only nine months and you've got to understand, this is your mother _trying_ ," Reed said.

I looked my agent in the eye. "And this is me saying I am not moving to Louisiana."

TWO DAYS LATER, I found myself swatting away a mosquito as I exited the New Orleans airport, headed for a black-clad chauffeur who held up a sign that said, "Drew, Welcome to Louisiana." I paused in stride and the mosquito I'd been waving away bit me on the chin.

Sighing, I shook my head and resumed my trek to the chauffeur. As I met up with him, he smiled, said hello, and asked me how I was.

I pointed to his sign. "That might as well say, 'Welcome to hell.'"

Surprisingly, however, after several months of living in a small town called Swamp Rose, I realized that Louisiana wasn't hell. In fact, I started to like it. I even started to almost fit in. The school Lenora enrolled me in was called South Louisiana High. I admit, I didn't become one of the "popular kids," but I did make two friends: Benjamin Morris and Megs Little.

These days, I spend most of my time with them. Especially Ben. We got to know each other pretty well in third hour PE/health class. We'd ditch our teacher's lessons to walk around the gym.

In fact, that seems like the most logical place to start my South Louisiana High story, so here we go...

#

Almost Present Day (February 27, 2015)

_Swamp Rose, Louisiana_

Back home, my every waking moment had been consumed by my desire for stardom. My whole life centered around my acting career.

But, here, in the gym of a rundown school called South Louisiana High- I found that I wanted something more- I wanted to spend as much time as I could arguing with Benjamin Morris. Lame as it may sound, arguing with Ben was the most fun I'd had in, like, years...

"Leia? No way." Grinning, I shook my head. "Ms. Karin is _not_ a Leia. She's more like a Yoda, maybe. Actually, no, she's too shy to be Yoda."

"Your eyes can deceive you," Ben said. "Don't trust them."

And yet another _Star Wars_ quote.

I snorted. "That quote didn't even fit what we were talking about. Now you're just reaching."

"No I'm not." He grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling. "Look around!"

I looked. South Louisiana High's gym was abuzz with a casual basketball game, chatter, and the dramatic gesticulations of our P.E. teacher, Coach Jacobs, while he lectured the P.E./health class Ben and I were supposed to be sitting with.

Earlier, when Coach left to take a phone call, Ben and I took the opportunity to leave our bleacher seats for a stroll around the gym. The gym was swarming with students and Coach wasn't exactly Mr. Perceptive, so we figured we wouldn't get caught.

But as I looked around, I felt even less perceptive than Coach because I couldn't figure out what Ben's point was.

I glanced at him. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"One person," Ben said, "who isn't pretending to be something they're not."

Hm.

Though his point was no longer lost on me, it was invalid because I was standing next to a boy who never pretended to be something he wasn't.

That was one of the things I liked best about him. Benjamin Morris, a sensitive, _Star Wars_ -loving geek was as shy as he was opinionated and as honest as he was cute. I liked that he never hesitated to disagree with me. In fact, during the five months I'd been in Louisiana, disagreeing with Ben had become one of my favorite pastimes.

I started to tell him he'd ruined his own point when he suddenly whispered, "She's definitely a Leia." He nodded to someone just ahead and I followed his gaze to Kyle Pham.

Ugh. __ Kyle was a raven-haired twelfth-grade cheerleader whose looks, dry humor, and friendship with Mia Reeves - The #1 Mean Girl of the school - made her the envy of 99% of SLH's female population.

"Well." I hesitated. "Maybe."

99% because _I_ wasn't envious of Kyle.

I watched Kyle throw her head back and laugh while she teased Heath Remington, one of SLH's football players who I shared a couple of classes with. I shook my head in disgust. Do I wish people liked me the way they liked Kyle? Maybe. But did that make me jealous of girls like Kyle? Not at all.

Once a girl like Kyle left the security of high school, she'd come face-to-face with the real world and she wouldn't know what to do. That wasn't going to happen to me because I already had a career, and as soon as Lenora was healthy, I'd move back to LA where I would continue to build said career. So, was I jealous of some high school cheerleader? No.

"But I'm more like Leia than her," I said.

Ben turned to me, started to put his hands in his pockets, and then paused, apparently recalling that his gym shorts didn't have pockets. He let his arms flop back to his sides.

I smiled to myself. I could look at him and know exactly what he was thinking. It was like we'd known each other forever instead of just a few months.

"I don't know," Ben said, his arm brushing mine as we walked on. I shivered at the accidental touch. Hoping he didn't notice my weird trembling, I inched away from him. "Kyle's pretty bossy."

"Leia wasn't bossy," I argued, my gaze roving to the faded painting on the wall ahead. It was supposed to say, "South Louisiana High" but it said, "uth Louana Hig." "Leia knew what she wanted and she went for it; that's not bossy, that's confident."

" _And_ she was bossy," Ben disagreed. "You can go after what you want without ordering people around."

The noise from the nearby basketball game increased as the players whooped and hollered. I ignored their ruckus and focused my attention on our argument.

"No, Ben. If you call Leia bossy you might as well call Han _bad_ , which is too general. Han needed money, so he did underhanded things to get it, but he wasn't _bad_. Just like Leia displayed the qualities necessary for the situation she was in." I turned to gauge Ben's reaction and gasped at the sight of a basketball flying our way.

"Watch out!" I exclaimed, shoving Ben backwards.

He stumbled, but regained his balance as the ball whizzed past, mere inches from his head. It bounced off the faded "uth Louana Hig" sign and one of the basketball players, his dreads flying behind him, ran after it, yelling, "Sorry, y'all."

I glared at him and shouted, "If that ball had hit Ben, you'd be sorry."

Ben blushed and turned back to the boy, waving and forcing a laugh as he said, "No worries, bro. It's all good." He returned his attention to me and whispered, "That could've been bad."

I stared at Ben, wondering how he always managed to stay so calm. If I were him, I would've chewed that guy's head off.

He ran a hand through his thick dark hair and I resisted the urge to reach up and trace his movement with my own hand.

What was I thinking? __ Confused by the direction of my thoughts, I turned away from Ben and looked at the floor as we resumed our circular trek around the gym.

"So," I said, "I guess pushing you and telling you to move makes me bossy too?"

Ben smiled, his lopsided grin as cute as ever. "I never said I didn't like Leia. And thanks, by the way," he said, pushing his hands into the waistband of his shorts, absently searching for non-existent pockets. Realizing what he was doing, he shot me a glance.

"Yeah, I saw that," I said. "You having fun with yourself over there?"

He reddened. "I keep forgetting our gym shorts don't have pockets this year."

I nodded in sympathy. "This school's so cheap. I bet shorts with pockets are only like a dollar more."

Out of all the schools in Louisiana, Lenora Everett, in her vast prescription-drug-induced wisdom, decided to enroll me in the poorest school in the entire state.

"Principal Williams says we don't have money for stuff, and then he buys a brand-new security system with a fingerprint database," Ben said. "Because we _definitely_ need that. It's _definitely_ not a complete waste of money."

"Totally not a waste," I agreed, smiling. "Storing every student's fingerprint is a million times more important than spending money on getting rid of the school's mold problem. Because, actually, we like the way the mold makes everything smell like vomit."

Ben chuckled and as we passed the set of bleachers where our class sat listening to Coach Jacobs' riveting lecture about the dangers of herpes or whatever, I turned my attention to Coach. Much too consumed in his lecture -which by the looks of boredom on my classmates faces, must not have been all that eloquent- Coach didn't even glance our way.

My other friend, Megs, was sitting by herself in the bleachers. She was too much of a goody-goody to ditch a lecture and walk around with me and Ben. So, she'd sit through every last one of Coach's boring classes. Megs caught my eyes and smiled. I waved in return.

Goody-goody or not, she was sweet and probably one of the nicest girls I'd ever met.

I returned my attention to Ben as he said, "You know, seriously though, I don't think that's mold. It smells like battery acid or something."

"Even better," I said. "We're inhaling battery acid that's going to turn us into mutants. I love it. Thank God I moved here."

"Mutants! That reminds me!" Ben exclaimed, snapping his fingers. I smirked to myself while he went on. "Okay, you're Leia, I'm Han. Got that, but, switching worlds, if we were in the Marvel Universe and-"

"Whoa, wait a second." I turned to Ben. "Did you just call yourself Han Solo?"

"Yeah." He looked at me, narrowing his eyes. "So?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, Ben. Han Solo is, like, dangerous and crazy-sarcastic and... _tough_. Buddy, that's not you."

"Yeah, I'm definitely not sarcastic, you got me there," he retorted.

I punched him in the shoulder and he pretended to be in pain. "Okay, maybe you're a little sarcastic. But you're still not Han. You could be Luke. Luke's cool."

"You're so naïve, Drew." Ben gave the top of my head a pat. "You still think you can judge a book by its cover."

"Don't patronize me." Grinning, I tried to shove his hand off of my head. But, in one deft movement, Ben caught both of my hands and locked them in his grip. Surprised, I blinked back at him. He smiled.

I was so caught off guard that I didn't move a muscle while he wrapped his arms around mine and laced his fingers through mine.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. _Why am I whispering?_ I cleared my throat and repeated myself, "What are you doing?"

"This." He curled our entwined fingers into a fist and lightly thunked them against the side of my forehead.

"Oh," I muttered. "You're making me hit myself. That's original. Good job, Ben."

"People aren't always what they seem on the outside," he said, his warm breath kissing my arm. Those hazel eyes of his were locked onto mine and for one bewildering moment, butterflies filled my stomach. I couldn't speak, let alone return his smile.

"Aren't you an actor?" he asked.

Unable to find my voice, I nodded.

"Then you should know that, Drew." Ben arched an eyebrow and brought our hands down, unlinking his from mine.

Well, that was weird.

I crossed my arms, which still burned from his touch, and tried to ignore the drumming in my chest as I said, "I still don't think you're Han Solo."

He chuckled. "Fine, whatever. Who do you want me to be? Jar Jar?"

"God, no. No one deserves that. Let's go with Chewy. After all, you _are_ kinda hairy."

He smiled good-naturedly. "Okay, that actually does work. Chewy was an engineer and people are always asking me to fix their broken laptops and cameras and whatever."

"Drew and Ben, on the bleachers _now_!" Coach's voice cut into our conversation, nearly scaring me out of my gym shorts. I turned to Coach Jacobs as he pointed to Kyle and Heath and yelled, "You too, Heath. Get away from those cheerleaders, boy!"

Ben and I exchanged glances, making each other smile. I lost my grin, however, when Ben's lips formed an O and he _howled_ like a dog.

"Um, what are..." My voice trailed off as I realized who he was imitating. I rolled my eyes. "Get outta my way, you walking carpet."

He pointed at me. "Ha ha, made you quote _Star Wars_. Now who's the geek?"

I shoved him and told him to shut up, but that was the last thing I wanted him to do.

For the first time in a very long time, I had a friend who I felt completely comfortable with. Around Ben, I didn't have to "be" anything other than me and I know that might sound kind of dumb, but I'd just never had a friend like that before.

I followed Ben to the bleachers, my gaze wandering to his butt, which was on the skinny side, but cute. In that moment, I realized that what I felt for Ben Morris was more than friendship.

I'd developed a huge crush on my geeky friend.

#

I plopped down on the bleachers beside Megs while Ben made himself comfortable in the empty seat to my right.

"So, what STD are we learning about today?" I asked Megs.

Heath Remington, the jock who'd also been caught walking around the gym while we were supposed to be on the bleachers, overheard me and turned around. "I'm going to guess chlamydia."

"Just because that's what he has," Ben mumbled.

I glanced at Ben in surprise and hoped, for Ben's sake, that Heath hadn't heard his sarcastic comment. It wasn't like I knew Heath super well, but it was hard not to notice a guy with the muscle mass and temperament of an Asgardian. From what I'd seen, Heath wasn't squeamish about starting fights on or off the football field.

Fortunately, he didn't appear to have heard Ben's quip.

Megs rolled her eyes at Heath and returned her attention to me. "We were actually talking about hurricane safety. And we're supposed to watch a DVD about it in a few minutes."

"Sounds riveting." I sighed.

"I know, right?" Megs smiled briefly. "But, seriously, before Coach called you and Ben back to the bleachers, he said if y'all keep leaving class, he's going to take points off your grade. So, as boring as his lectures are, you might want to stop ditching them. You don't want to fail P.E."

I snorted. "And failing P.E. has _what_ to do with winning an Oscar?"

Megs arched an eyebrow at me.

I was pretty sure she thought I was insane. I knew this, not because I was unbelievably perceptive, but because Megs looked at me and declared, "You're insane" at least twice a day.

"Oh, that's right," I continued. "P.E. has nothing to do with the Academy Awards. So, I think I'm good."

On cue, Megs shook her head, and said, "You're insane."

"I prefer to call it 'having my priorities in order.'"

"Nuggets of darn!" Coach Jacobs erupted. "This dang-on DVD player is broke!"

Everyone in class looked up.

"Oh, my God," I mumbled. "People from Louisiana say the weirdest things."

"Trust me," Megs whispered. "The rest of us don't talk like that, just Coach."

"He probably forgot to press power," Ben said. "That's what happened the last time he yelled 'nuggets of darn.'"

"Ben, I need your help, kid!" Coach Jacobs shouted.

At the sound of his name, Ben winced and his arm brushed mine. This simple touch shot a chill straight through me. I took a deep breath and straightened in my seat.

"Yes, sir?" Ben called.

I glanced at him, my cheeks burning. How had this geeky boy managed to send an I-just-saw-Bradley-Cooper chill straight through me for the second time in twenty-four hours?

Ben wasn't even my type. I liked older guys with established careers and... and actual muscles. He definitely didn't fall into either of those categories. __ So, what was it about him that had suddenly gone and sealed the deal with my hormones?

I took in the sight of his thick brown hair and hazel eyes with their flecks of green. His peaches-and-cream skin even looked sort of delicate, especially with the splay of freckles on his nose. As far as body type went, he wasn't an especially big guy, but he wasn't skinny either.

Ben turned to me and said something, but his words didn't register. Instead of listening to him, I watched his mouth.

I wondered what it would be like to kiss him... I moistened my lips, considering this. I'd probably be his first kiss, so it would start off beyond awkward. But eventually we'd find our stride and then-

Ben frowned and waved his hand in front of me. "Drew? Are you in there?"

Oh my God! I was such a creeper.

He laughed. "What's wrong? You're just staring at me."

Embarrassed, I shifted in my seat. "Nothing," I said. "What's wrong with _you_?"

We watched each other, me trying not to look like I was holding my breath, and Ben's eyes narrowing as they searched mine. After what felt like forever, he said, "Sometimes I wonder about you." With this, he shook his head and made his way down the bleachers.

Before I'd even had a chance to reestablish my equilibrium and, like, breathe, Megs jammed her elbow into my ribs. I turned to face her ginormous grin. It was so infectious, I couldn't help but laugh. "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Because _I know_ what's wrong with you." She arched one of her untrimmed eyebrows.

Ever since we'd started hanging out, I'd been trying to think of a polite way to offer to help Megs groom those babies. "What are you talking about?"

"Ben," Megs whispered, leaning towards me. "You like him, don't you?"

My heart skipped a beat and then fell into my stomach. And then I died. Just kidding, I didn't die. Obviously. I was, however, momentarily paralyzed.

I looked down at my nails and pretended to examine them as I tried to pull myself together and come up with a response.

Megs was my friend, but she was also a regular person and I was a Hollywood actress, so she looked up to me. That said, I couldn't just come right out and admit to her that yes, I was fighting a gigantic crush on a _Star Wars_ obsessed boy from Swamp Rose, Louisiana! That would make me look so pathetic and ordinary. No way was I telling her about my crush!

"Um, I..." I tried to force a lie from my lips, but I'd never been a good liar, which was hella insane because I'm a fabulous actress. Anyhow, before I knew what was happening, I blurted, "It just happened, like, out of nowhere and now I can't stop staring at him. It's crazy. I honestly feel a little crazy.'"

I sighed, disappointed with myself, and my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

Megs smiled sympathetically. "It's okay, Drew. You're not crazy."

"Are you sure?" I laughed nervously. "I don't even understand _why_ I like him. He's not my type. And _I_ probably weigh more than he does; if we got in a fight, I'd win. How sad is that?"

Megs laughed before leaning towards me and lowering her voice to a whisper. "So, Ben's not Heath Remington. Who cares? He's tall, he has really pretty eyes, and he actually is a lot bigger than you. But more importantly, he's really sweet. I think it's cute that you like him."

I watched Megs tucked one of her many loose strands of hair back into her ponytail holder. "Yeah," I said. "Well, I don't think he feels the same way about me. Like, last night I went to his house and we watched movies _all night_ and he never even once tried to flirt with me. He basically treats me like I'm a dude."

"Oh." Megs cringed. "You've been friend-zoned."

"Exactly. I guess I shouldn't complain because I _do_ want us to be friends. I like hanging out with him. Like, last night, the only reason I left was because his mother came in to tell him to go to bed and the woman completely freaked when she saw me there. We were watching _Mad Max_ , but you'd think she caught us rolling around naked the way she went off."

Megs nodded. "His mom's super protective. But, in her defense, after what happened to his dad, you can understand why she's like that."

I frowned. "What happened?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Her brown eyes widened. "I thought Ben would've told you."

"He didn't." A pang of jealousy snuck into my gut. I knew my jealousy was ridiculous; Megs and Ben had lived in Swamp Rose their whole lives, going to the same schools together since pre-k. On the other hand, I'd only met him a few months ago. So, of course she'd know him better than I did. But logic had nothing to do with jealousy.

I shifted in my seat, my thoughts racing.

Maybe Ben didn't trust me enough to talk to me about anything other than _Star Wars_ and basic everyday crap. Was I falling for someone who cared about me way less than I cared about him?

I looked down at my gym shoes, my thoughts shifting to my mother and to the few friends I'd left behind in L.A.

Would that really be a surprise? That was the nature of every relationship I had. I cared about people a lot more than they cared about me...

Megs sighed and quietly said, "His dad killed himself."

My frantic thoughts screeched to a halt.

"Ben's dad killed himself?" I slowly repeated.

"Yeah," Megs replied, her voice soft. "It happened when we were in kindergarten. I vaguely remember Mr. Morris as this really nice guy, but I guess he must have struggled with depression or something, I don't know. After it happened, Ben was, like, so destroyed. He'd sit by himself at recess, just staring at the ground while everyone else played."

My heart sank as I imagined little boy Ben, alone and hurting. "Jesus, Megs," I said, rubbing my forehead. "That's terrible."

"I know, right? I think that's why his mom's the way she is. She lost her husband and now she's freaked out about something happening to Ben. It doesn't exactly make sense, but grief doesn't have to make sense."

I nodded, considering this. "Yeah. And maybe that explains why Ben's so different from other guys."

"Different how?"

"He's nice," I replied, glancing at Megs. "When he's talking to you, you can tell he's not just trying to get in your pants, but he's actually having a conversation with you, person-to-person. Most guys aren't like that; they're completely self-centered."

Megs frowned. "I wouldn't say _most_ guys are self-centered, some maybe."

I held back a smile so Megs wouldn't see me laughing at her. I loved her to death, but she was so naïve. She had no idea what the real world was like.

"In any case," I said, glancing down at the silver ring on my pinkie. "Ben's nicer than the guys I know. Actually, he's nicer than..." My voice trailed off as I was smacked in the brain with an epiphany.

"Nicer than?" Megs asked.

"He's nicer than me," I slowly replied.

This crush didn't just happen. I'd been _fighting it_. I thought I'd been fighting it because I knew what someone like me could potentially do to a nice guy like Ben... I didn't want to hurt him.

I gulped, completely stuck in my thoughts as Megs continued talking. How on Earth would the two of us even work as a couple? I was the daughter of a prone-to-stripping-on-national-television junkie. That was my DNA. And Ben was a completely innocent kid from the south who had probably never even kissed a girl. The only thing we had in common was that we could both quote every _Star Wars_ movie, word for word.

Megs nudged me with her elbow. "I think y'all would be cute together."

"Would we?"

"Yeah, Drew! You should go for it," she said, with that infectious smile of hers. "You'd be like a sweet and spicy combination. He's sweet, you're spicy."

"I _do_ like him," I said, twisting my silver ring around my pinkie. "And I have a work thing, a party, this Thursday, that I need a date for."

Megs squealed so loudly that Heath turned around to give us a look.

I shook my head. "But like I said, I don't even know if Ben likes me."

"Then ask him out!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright.

"Out, like, not just to the party but _out_ , out"? I asked.

"Yeah."

My mouth went dry at the very thought of having such a conversation with Ben.

"How?" I asked, in a half-choked whisper. I cleared my throat and said, "I don't know how to ask a guy out."

Meg's eyebrows went up. "I've seen your movies, Drew. There's no way I know more about boys than you."

Why do people not understand the definition of "acting"?

"Kissing my costar in a scripted scene isn't __ the same as telling an actual guy I like that I want to go out with him. I wouldn't even know where to start." I ran my hand through my hair and glanced at Megs. "I've never even had a real boyfriend."

"You're kidding." She narrowed her eyes. "What about that guy who texted you last week? You know, the one who sent you _that_ picture?"

My face warming, I laughed. "That was just some intern who works for my agent. It's not like I actually liked that guy."

"Then why'd you hook up with him?"

"I didn't hook up with him. We just messed around a little. But that's not the point." Embarrassed, I dismissed the subject. "What am I supposed to say to Ben? 'Hey, Ben, wanna make out in my car, since you don't have one?'"

She shrugged. "Honestly, I think you can just be straightforward with Ben. He'd like that."

"Straightforward how?"

"Just go up to him and say, "Hey Ben, I like you as a friend, but I want to try an experiment and see if we can be more than friends. So, would you go on a date with me?""

I stared at Megs in horror. "But he could just be like, "No, I don't think so.""

She laughed. "Yeah, that's the risk you take when you ask someone out. They could say no."

I shook my head. "No. That's a terrible idea. There's got to be a better way... I need better advice. No offense."

"Geez, Drew," Megs mumbled.

"Seriously, no offense," I said.

"None taken, as usual," she said with a sigh. "Anyway, when my last boyfriend asked me out, he went above and beyond and to be honest, it was just too much. I think..."

Megs continued but Heath and the boy beside him started laughing, nearly hysterically, and I glanced at them, distracted. Eventually, my gaze shifted to just beyond them...I watched Ben while he explained the DVD player's "mysterious" power button to Coach Jacobs.

How weird was it that Ben Morris scared the crap out of me? But that was what was happening here: the thought of talking to him about this was flat out _frightening_. What if I told him how I felt and he was grossed out because he didn't see me that way? What if it went so poorly that we couldn't even stay friends?

Or worse, what if he _did_ like me, so we tried going out and it didn't work because I was just as self-centered as Lenora? Every one of her relationships failed because she ended up cheating or breaking up with them for no real reason. What if I did something like that to Ben? What if I completely failed him?

Coach Jacobs pointed to the television and Ben shook his head. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but Ben looked confused. He scratched the back of his head.

I hated being scared like this.

All of a sudden, Ben's face lit up and he pointed to the television while he turned to Coach Jacobs, speaking quickly. As I watched him, I came to a realization of my own. The way I felt right now was probably how Lenora felt when she wasn't drunk or high. That was why she drank and popped pills, to block her fear. I couldn't be like that. I had to face my fears.

Without a second thought, I leaned forward and tapped Heath Remington's broad shoulder. "Heath?"

He turned to me while Megs glanced at me in surprise.

"Hollywood." Heath smiled and his eyes, a deceptively innocent blue, were all over me. "What up?"

I mirrored Heath's grin and briefly glanced at his friend who'd also turned around. "I need a guy's perspective on something." I set my gaze on Heath. I could tell he had a bit of thing for me, so he'd definitely be willing to answer my question. "That chick you hang out with at lunch is your girlfriend, right?"

On days when I had the same lunch shift as Heath, I'd notice him sitting with a short, dark-haired girl. They'd sit by themselves, talking and intermittently kissing, so focused on each other you'd have thought the rest of the world disappeared around them.

"That's Via, she's... um, I guess she's sort of my girlfriend..." He squinted and looked into the distance, like he was confused.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You guess she's _sort of_ your girlfriend?"

He grinned. "It's complicated. But for a limited time, I can pretend she isn't anything to me." His smile widened and Megs mumbled, "Oh please" under her breath. Heath leaned towards me. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she'd give me a free pass for a movie star."

"A free pass?" I grinned. "What am I? An amusement park?"

He shot a pointed glance at my chest and nodded. "Sort of, yeah."

I rolled my eyes while Megs hit Heath's shoulder and hissed, "Inappropriate much? If Via heard you right now, she'd be so mad!"

"And since she isn't here," he said, shooting Megs a smug look. "I think we're good."

The bleacher beneath us rocked as Megs huffed and shifted around in her seat. She scowled at Heath. "You're so wrong for that and-"

"Okay, cards on the table," I interrupted, clapping my hand on Megs' shoulder. "Heath's just joking and Drew World is completely closed to visitors. So, let's get back to my question."

"Fine with me." Heath narrowed his eyes at Megs. "Unless talking to you offends _her_ immoral codex."

"Immoral codex?" __ I asked, glancing at Heath in confusion.

"I'm guessing he means, 'moral code,'" Megs said, shaking her head.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Holy mother of Hemsworths, how did Heath even make it to tenth grade? I watched him lean towards Megs and whisper, "And I'm guessing you mean to look like a whale."

Heath's friend snickered and I turned to Megs, horrified. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open as she struggled to come back with a response.

"That's not funny," I snapped, turning to Heath. "What's wrong with you?"

Megs folded her arms and stared into the distance, a carefully blank expression on her face.

"I'm kidding, Megs." Heath glanced at her. "You know I'm just messing with you."

She rolled her eyes and her voice was barely audible as she said, "Whatever."

My heart sank. "Heath," I said. "That was a lame apology. You didn't even use the words, 'I'm sorry.'"

"No, it's fine. I don't care." Megs stood and, without another word, clumsily made her way down the bleachers.

Heath gave me a sheepish look. "Hope she's okay."

"That was really mean," I hissed. With this, I stood and started to follow Megs. Heath wrapped one of his huge paws around my thigh, stopping me.

"Wait, Drew."

"Um..." I looked down at his hand.

"What you were going to ask me?"

"Move your giant hand."

"You know what they say about big hands." He grinned.

If Heath Remington weren't so annoyingly hot, I might have punched him in the throat right then and there.

But I was shallow, so I just rolled my eyes and shook my head.

Heath raised his hands in innocence.

"And on that note, I'll talk to you later, Heath." I started for the next bleacher down.

"Aw, come on. I made a mistake. I'm sorry," Heath said. "Haven't you ever said something you wanted to take back? Like when you were on Chad Block's show? You should know exactly how I feel. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

Like when I was on Chad Block's show? __ Heath's unexpected reference stopped me mid-step. What did I say on Chad's show? What was he talking about?

In my confusion, I lost my balance and teetered forward. I cursed under my breath and flapped my arms like an idiot just before a pair of strong hands wrapped round my waist. I caught my breath as the hands steadied me and pulled me back into an embrace.

"Gotcha," Heath whispered, his breath warm against my ear and surprisingly the opposite of unpleasant.

"Thanks," I said, barely suppressing a shiver. He turned me around to face him and managed to get to second base in the process.

Completely unnerved, I fought for composure as I pushed him away.

"Jesus, Heath," I sputtered. "Did you have fun at Drew World?"

"Drew World?" he repeated with a confused frown.

I pointed to my boobs. "You basically just took a tour of the amusement park."

Heath's eyes lit with understanding and he laughed. "It was fun, but we should talk about a season pass."

Despite myself, I smiled. Funny how a guy who couldn't even remember the phrase "moral code" managed to be so clever when it came to innuendos.

"Drew!" Coach Jacobs called, startling me to death. I turned to find Coach, Ben, and every member of our class staring at me and Heath. I gulped. Had they all seen me pointing to my boobs?

"Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" Coach asked.

"No. I'm good, thanks," I replied, my gaze immediately going to Ben. He crossed his arms and looked back at me with an unreadable expression.

"I caught her before she fell," Heath piped up from behind me. With this, he slipped an arm around my waist.

"Well, ain't you just a regular ol' Cajun Superman?" Coach mumbled, rolling his eyes.

While our classmates chuckled, I turned back to Heath. "I'm not falling anymore. You can let me go."

"I thought we were going to talk about that season pass," Heath quietly replied, his gaze going to my mouth.

For a moment, I said nothing and simply watched him. He was looking at me like I was a piece of food. It was always interesting to just kind of pause and look at a guy when he was in lust-mode. In that moment, they were so vulnerable. But... actually, they weren't the only ones who turned into helpless puddles of hormones. I realized this when _my heart_ unexpectedly skipped a beat.

Quickly sliding away from Heath, I removed his arm from my waist. "Drew World is closed."

"Aww." He chuckled and I couldn't help but smile.

"I know, it's so sad for you." I crossed my arms and tried to maintain a respectable distance from him. "Anyway, you said something about my interview with Chad Block - that you think I said something wrong during my interview?"

Heath shrugged and muttered what sounded like "I don't know," as he frowned and looked down at the bleachers.

The friend who he'd been talking to earlier, now engrossed in a game on his phone, glanced at us and arched an eyebrow before returning to his game.

Even the friend knew? What could **** I have possibly said wrong? Lenora was the one who streaked on live television! I didn't do anything wrong.

"Just tell me," I said. "You're not going to hurt my feelings."

"Nah." Heath waved me off and lowered himself to the bleacher, sitting beside his friend. "Don't worry about it, Hollywood. I only said that to get you to turn around."

Heath's friend shook his head and cleared his throat, _loudly_. As if this wasn't enough to push my curiosity over the edge, Heath gave his friend a shove and said, "Shut up, man."

"If," I said, lowering my voice, "you want me to even consider a day pass to Drew World, tell me."

Heath grinned and his eyes lit up. "Really?"

I nodded, sitting beside him.

"Okay." Heath's glanced at my chest. "But you can't get mad."

I immediately tensed. Expertly hiding my nerves with a blasé expression, I shrugged. "I won't."

"You might've sounded a little, um..." Heath frowned and averted his eyes.

"A little what?" I urged.

"Stuck up." He chanced a quick glance at me and cringed. "Like, some people, not me, but _some_ people might've thought it was snobby when you called yourself an 'amazing actress.' And some people said you looked high. Were you?"

His accusations were bullets. For a solid five to eight seconds, I was too shocked by their impact to speak.

"No, Heath, I was _not_ high," I erupted. "I've never done drugs in my life!" Tears burned my vision and I took a deep breath as I tried to blink them away.

"Are you crying?" Heath laughed.

"If you think I'm crying, then why are you laughing?" I hissed. "Oh em gee, you're such a jerk." I started to get up and found myself unable to when Heath set a hand on my thigh, pushing me back down.

"Woah, wait, Hollywood." He took my hand. "I didn't mean to laugh. I'm sorry."

"You literally can't stop touching me, can you?" I frowned down at our hands and when I returned my gaze to Heath, he was smiling.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked as he looked right into my eyes.

I broke eye contact with him and tried to reaffirm my grip on my righteous indignation.

"When I called myself a fantastic actress," I said, "I was only quoting the _numerous_ critics who happen to love my work. In 2010, for example, I was one of five actresses nominated for a Teen Choice-"

"See? You're doing it again," Heath's friend pipped up with an exasperated sigh. I watched the boy in surprise as he set his phone on the bleacher, leaned forward, and peered at me from Heath's left side. "It's like you got a telephone pole shoved up your-"

"Shut up, Pete," Heath said, turning to his friend.

"Dude, you said the same thing yester-" Before the boy could finish his sentence, Heath shoved him and the poor kid slid a few feet across the bleacher while his phone crashed to the floor below.

Every student in our vicinity turned to the commotion, but Heath returned his attention to me. "Drew, I didn't say that about you. He's lying."

I shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. "I honestly don't care."

"Drew?" Ben's voice was a welcomed sound and I turned to find him headed up the bleachers towards us. To his right, Heath's friend was only just now getting his bearings.

"Hey." I scrambled to my feet.

"Everything okay?" Ben asked, glancing at Heath.

"Yeah, let's just go sit down." Eager to make my way back to our original seat, I started in that direction, but Heath grabbed my hand.

"I really didn't say that about you." Heath released my hand, only to settle his at the small of my back. "I just thought you should know that."

"Okay, whatever," I said without looking at him. Not only had this dude, who I barely even knew, actually managed to hurt my feelings, but being around him was incredibly confusing to my body.

"Really, Drew," Heath said with an audible gulp. "I think you're a great actress. I saw your movie twice."

I dared a glance at Heath and he was looking right at me with those ice blue eyes of his. But their icy factor had all but melted due to his nerves. "And I - I might've said s-something about your butt, but it wasn't _that_."

The stuttering was what got me. I couldn't even honestly explain why... blame it on my pubescent hormones I guess. In any case, I grinned and rolled my eyes. "You're such a freak."

Heath visibly relaxed and returned my grin. "You have no idea." At this, he slid his hand down my back. "But if you want to find out ..."

Tingles danced down my spine and I all but gasped. A loud cough sounded from behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. Ben stood on the bleacher above ours, watching our conversation through narrowed eyes. I pushed Heath away. "I'm going back to my seat now."

I made my way to Ben, who wordlessly turned around and headed to the bleacher just above where we'd been sitting. This put an extra row between our seat and Heath's.

We simultaneously collapsed into our seats and, from the corner of my eye, I could see Ben watching me. I turned to him and he looked down at his gym shorts, wiping away what I assumed must have been a spot of dirt or dust... or maybe it was nothing at all.

"Hey, Hollywood?" Heath called.

Please don't let him say anything dirty in front of Ben. I glanced at Heath.

He smiled and said, "I'll let you to know when I'm ready to use that day pass."

I chose not to respond. Instead, I turned away from him and focused on Ben. "So, was it the power button?"

Ben frowned, his gaze still on Heath.

"Ben?"

"What?" he asked, turning to me.

"The DVD player's power button," I said, mustering all of my poise. "Did you have to show Coach where it was?"

"No, it had a short. What happened up here? Why was Megs upset and what day pass is he talking about?"

_Megs!_ Guilt tore through me as I realized I'd completely forgotten to go check on her.

"Um," I eloquently replied. "Heath said something that hurt her feelings."

"Is she okay?" Ben asked.

"Actually, I don't even know. I need to check on her. But first I want to ask you something." I paused and took a deep breath.

_Do it. Ask him._

"You want me to beat Heath up?" Ben quietly said. His gaze returned to Heath, who'd already turned around to begin arguing with the boy he'd shoved a few minutes earlier.

Ben versus Heath? By no stretch of imagination would that be a fair fight.

"Not that he doesn't deserve it," I said. "But maybe another time. Thanks for the offer."

In spite of himself, Ben smiled and wiped his brow. "Thank God. I worried you were going to say yes."

I laughed and he chuckled, but Ben wouldn't quite meet my eyes. Something about us felt off and I was pretty sure it had to do with Heath. If he was jealous, maybe that was a good sign. __ Because maybe that meant he wanted me to himself. Despite this "good sign," my heart seemed to be sinking into my stomach and I felt kind of horrible.

I laced my hands together and stole a peek at Ben. I didn't want to make him jealous. This wasn't a game. This was just me wanting Ben to know I liked him.

"I wanted to ask you something else." I sat up straighter and as Ben turned to me, I made myself look him in the eye. "This Thursday, Amelia Hearth is throwing a huge party. It's sort of like a formal ball. It's a really big deal and it's going to be at Alyssum Studios. But I don't have a date. So, I was wondering if, um..."

_Oh God, why can't I just say it?_

Ben's expression softened and a cute, lopsided grin made its way to his mouth. "I'll go."

"Oh." I nodded, my heart thundering in my chest while he studied me with that adorable smile of his.

_Yes! Yessss! He said yes! Ahhhhh!_

Ben's grin faded. "Crap." He blushed and glanced down. "Were you even asking me if I wanted to go? I just kind of assumed-"

"Yeah, I was," I said, immediately relaxing as I laughed. "I want you to go with me."

"Good." He exhaled, and meeting my eyes, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more, except then he didn't.

We looked at each other awkwardly.

"Well, thanks," I spoke to fill the silence. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course." He gave my shoulder a gentle punch. "That's what friends are for."

_Friends?_ My heart fractured. But I returned Ben's smile and erased any visible indication of my frustration.

He thought we were going _as friends_?

I turned away from him, blindly watching the boys' basketball game in the distance.

I'd wanted this to be our first date. How would it be a date if Ben thought we were going to the party as friends?

#

"Are you sure you're all right?" I asked, shooting Megs a glance as I tugged on my gym locker to make sure it was really closed. Last month, I'd accidently left it ajar after class and when I came back the next day, found that my gym outfit, kicks, body spray, and deodorant had all been stolen. My main question was: what kind of freak steals used deodorant?

Assured that my locker was definitely closed, I assessed my nodding friend. Her thick hair still looked bad - even though she'd been in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes before heading to the girls' locker room. She could've at least used some water to slick it back.

That's what I would've done.

Megs' eyes, pretty and dark, were red from crying and in serious need of some eyeliner/mascara, and to top off her botched appearance, she wore her favorite ratty, army-style jacket over a drab brown outfit.

Around us, the sounds of laughter, gossip, and a couple of girls singing an old Taylor Swift song drifted across the locker room. The lighthearted noise was a reminder that high school was supposed to be a happy experience...especially for someone like Megs.

Sure, Megs wasn't alpha-girl/cheerleader material but when she'd walk with me to class, I noticed how often kids would throw her welcoming hellos and a smile - everyone liked her. Not only did she come from a little bit of notoriety - her dad was a well-known radio morning show host - and carry herself in a friendly, non-threatening manner that didn't upset the alpha-types, but Megs was a sincerely nice person.

She shouldn't be this unhappy.

"Megs, look at me."

She sighed as she swung her backpack onto her shoulders and turned to face me. "What?"

"You're not fat."

As soon as the three unexpected words slipped from my lips, I paused, horrified and wondering what had made me blurt this instead of "You deserve to be happy," which is what I'd intended to say.

Megs and I stared at each other, her eyes as wide as saucers. A slight frown formed on her brow while she opened and closed her mouth like she was trying to articulate a reply and couldn't find the words.

I felt like my odd declaration should be followed by a chaser. "I hate your clothes and your hair, they... make me want to vomit."

A sound escaped Meg's lips. I think it was a gasp.

I took a deep breath and, internally reeling, wondered what on Earth was wrong with me. I always told the truth, but I could usually soften it. Well, maybe "soften" was too strong of a word. I tried to make the truth _palatable_. That was a better word.

"Drew-" Megs started, her bottom lip trembling.

"Please don't cry." I touched her shoulder, which was covered by that hideous green jacket. Momentarily seized with a vision of burning it, I dismissed my vision and pressed forward. "You're beautiful, inside and out. But your clothes don't show that to the rest of the world. You know what I'm saying?"

She blinked back at me.

I took a deep breath and, pulling myself together, looked her right square in the eye. "Everyone's clothes tell a story and yours tell me that you want to hide, which isn't fair. No one as pretty as you should be hidden. You need a makeover, like, yesterday."

Someone behind me squealed, "A makeover?"

Only then did I realize how loudly I'd been speaking. I turned around to see who the shrill voice belonged to...and found myself staring at the devil herself- Mia freakin Reeves.

"Oh God," I muttered.

Mia was Kyle Pham's best friend - that's the cheerleader who Ben incorrectly thought was a "Leia." And more importantly, she was head of our school's mean girl trifecta; Mia, Kyle, and a girl named Elizabeth O'Brien were South Louisiana High's reigning authority, ruling under an iron fist of fake tans, four inch heels, and forever judgmental eyes that looked you up and down before choosing to ignore you. Individually, they weren't super threatening, but when all three of them were together- even I couldn't help but feel all at once scared, repulsed, and yet fascinated by them.

Mia now stood, one hand on her hip, between Kyle and, Elizabeth. Even in this unscripted moment, the three of them looked like they were posing for an H & M ad.

I crossed my arms and lifted my chin defiantly. "This was actually a personal conversation."

Mia ignored me and spoke directly to Megs. "Do you seriously want a makeover?" Without waiting for a reply, Mia strode across the locker room towards Megs. Her four inch heels clicked against the floor, their every tap cutting into the sudden hush that had fallen over the room.

I turned around and took in the sight of each girl in the vicinity watching Mia as if _she_ were the celebrity in their midst.

_Wow..._ It was actually impressive, the way Mia commanded their attention. A wave of jealousy washed over me.

"You." Mia pointed to a nearby girl. "Give me your necklace. You're going to let Megs borrow it today."

"Uh, no, thanks. That's okay." Megs pipped up. But her protest was so quiet, I'm pretty sure I was the only person who heard it. "I don't even want a makeover."

Mia took the girl's necklace and plopped it in Megs' lap. "Hold on to this."

I clenched my fists. No way was I letting this trick hijack my project.

I cleared my throat. "I want to see Megs in an up-do. Like a simple French twist," I said. Mia turned away from me, ignoring me completely. So I spoke louder. "And I want to get some make up on her. Nothing too heavy. Only the basics: lashes, lips, and foundation."

Megs glared at me, her eyes narrowed and her lips tight. She was _not_ a happy camper. I ignored the look on her face and smiled. "Come on, you know you want this."

She mumbled something I couldn't quite hear.

"What was that? Did you finally admit you want this?" I laughed and elbowed her. A few feet away, Mia still hadn't acknowledged my existence. Instead, she ordered her groupies to find a comb and brush, and to volunteer more of their jewelry.

"No," Megs snapped. "I said, 'That's what rapists say.'"

"Ew." I lost my grin.

Megs had a point. I'd been rude, forced a makeover on my friend, and now the entire locker room was in on her unwanted Cinderella-moment.

I sighed and sat down beside her. "Okay, look, if you _really_ don't want this, I can sneak you out of here right now. They won't even notice you're gone."

"This is going to be so much fun!" Mia suddenly shrieked.

I looked up to find Mia giving Kyle a high-five.

Well, _hopefully_ they wouldn't notice if I sneaked Megs out of here.

I returned my attention to my friend and her brow was furrowed, but she wasn't saying anything.

"I don't mean to force anything on you," I said. "But, honestly, I think you _do_ want this. Am I wrong?"

She shook her head. "No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not wrong. You're annoying."

"I know." I grinned. "It's an inherited gift, care of my mother. Thanks for putting up with me despite it."

"I put up with you _because_ of it." Megs sighed. "You're a jerk. But in a good way."

I frowned, unsure of how to take that. "Uh, whatever. Let's get started on this makeover," I said as I grabbed Megs' hand and pulled her to her feet.

Before I could get another word out of my mouth, Mia Reeves ran up to us, literally pried my hand from Megs', and then shoved Megs back down on the bench.

All I could do was stare at her in shock.

_Did this fool really just snatch my best friend's hand out of mine?_

"Let's do this, ladies!" Mia shouted to the locker room. With this, she turned her attention to Megs. "Kyle's going to do your makeup and I'm going to do your hair... Oh em gee!" Mia pulled a sad face and uttered a groan as she pointed to Megs' hair. "You're black. I should have thought of that sooner. I can't do black hair."

She laughed and gave Megs a playful shove. "Girl, why can't you be white? That would make this so much easier!"

I was pretty sure my mouth was just, like, hanging open at that point

For a moment, I just stood there, too appalled to speak as I watched Mia turn to the locker room and shout, "Any black girls in here who can help?"

I shook my head in disgust.

This cheerleader was so... actually, I didn't think there was even a word for what she was.

"Come on, y'all!" Mia yelled, while she gestured to her audience. "Obviously, _I_ can't do black hair! I need a sista - any sistas in here?"

I took a deep breath, anger and adrenaline tearing through me.

Now, I knew that what Mia was saying may not have seemed like such a big deal, but I'd just moved from a city that took pride in being politically correct and forward thinking.

Swamp Rose, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Ever since we'd relocated to the small town, I'd had no choice but to notice the huge __ difference in the way I was treated. For one, race was definitely "a thing." When I'd visited my mother in rehab, for example, the hick staff couldn't believe I was her daughter because my mother is paler than Emma Stone and I'm Hershey's chocolate brown. The idiot receptionist flat out said, "You don't look like you could be Lenora Everett's daughter." And then she made me prove we were related, all the while giving me dirty looks and rolling her eyes at everything I said. Besides that, two weeks ago, when Ben and I ducked into a little place called Coffee Etc's, a few of the other patrons stopped what they were doing to stare at the two of us in disgust. It was like we'd broken some sort of law by hanging out.

I looked at Mia, anger rushing through my veins. "So," I said, "the color of a person's skin determines whether or not you can give them a makeover?"

She turned to me and a hush fell over the locker room.

"Of course not. But do I look like I have black hair?" Mia snorted. "How am I supposed to know how to do y'all's hair?"

I wanted to scream.

But I didn't.

I just shouted... like... I shouted a lot. Which is probably worse than screaming.

"Oh my God, are you for real right now?" I laughed and brought my palm to my forehead. "Please tell me you're joking right now - that you don't seriously think all dark-skinned people have the same kind of hair? I mean, I get that you're from the South, but you can't possibly be _that_ ignorant."

Mia's eyes widened. "Did you literally just call me ignorant?"

"Well, when you're a dumb cheerleader who overuses the word literally, thinks it's okay to say stuff like, "Oh em gee, you're black," and then act like you can't even begin to touch a black woman's hair because it's _so_ wildly different from your own, then yeah - I'd call you _ignorant_." With this, I turned to face the rest of the locker room. "And you know what? It's not just Mia. It's everyone in this town! You're a bunch of ignorant racist punks!"

I gestured to a random girl who gaped at me, open mouthed, before blushing, pointing to herself, and mouthing, "Me?"

"Back home, when I want to get my hair cut, I can call _any_ salon and make an appointment. Imagine that! _Any_ salon. It's so easy!" I said. "But here, in Backwoods, USA - is it that simple? No! Here, I call a salon, I make an appointment. I show up and some blonde chick at the front desk takes one look at me and asks me if I'm the new cleaning lady. I point to my Jimmy Choos and ask her if they look like cleaning shoes and when I explain I have an appointment, she looks at me like I've lost my mind because her salon doesn't do hair for 'my kind.' So, I call another salon. Same story. And another, and another, and another. Do you understand how lame that is?"

I edged towards Mia. She glared at me, her expression wary, before slowly taking a step back. "There are eleven hair salons in this town," I said, "and not _one_ of them will accept me as a client. So, don't worry, it's not just you. Your entire town is a hellhole."

"Or," Mia said with an arched eyebrow, "maybe some people just don't know how to do your hair-"

"I'm not finished," I snapped and she jumped, startled. At this point, I barely even knew what I was saying. All I knew was that I was angry and words were flying out of my mouth. "And God forbid I listen to Radiohead with my windows down without some swamp rat gawking at me because, 'Why is that black girl listening to _the wrong_ _music_?' You people are so..." I closed my eyes and searched for a word. "... you're all just so stupid. It's like you... you ..." I opened my eyes and came face to face with Kyle Pham.

Kyle stood among the other girls, staring at me in horror. Beside her, Elizabeth O'Brien had lowered her gaze, her hand covering her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

I shifted on my feet and looked around. Every girl in the locker room was staring at me, her eyes wide.

Well, I just made a complete fool of myself.

"Are you done now?" Mia asked, her question slicing the quiet.

My cheeks warmed with shame. "Screw you, Mia."

_Why couldn't I have had this breakdown in private?_

I turned on my heels while Mia said, "Wow, what an awesome movie star..."

Ignoring her, I adjusted my backpack on my shoulders and hurried past whispering girls who stared at me.

I paused in stride only to glance at Megs.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah. And sorry I ruined your makeover," I said, the heat of embarrassment still stinging my cheeks and neck.

"No you didn't," someone said.

I turned and Elizabeth O'Brien was headed towards Megs, a brush in her hand. "We're still doing the makeover and I'm sure I can do Megs' hair." Elizabeth gave me a half-smile and took her position behind Megs.

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just nodded and hurried out of the locker room.

_That was so embarrassing..._

Wanting to kick myself, I headed into the gym where all of the guys and a few girls stood, huddled into small clusters, waiting for the bell to ring.

I took a deep breath and silently reviewed what'd just happened.

I must have sounded insane. I didn't even explain myself clearly. I probably looked exactly like Lenora when she was drunk and ranting. I sighed. I wished we'd never moved here. I wanted to go back home. I missed California.

Homesickness bearing down on me, I began to crave the company of the one person in Swamp Rose who made me feel less alone - Ben. I looked around, scanning the gym for him.

"Drew?" A familiar voice sounded behind me.

I turned around and Mia Reeves' boyfriend, Randall Hawke, was headed my way.

"Hey, Ran." I smiled even though I didn't feel like smiling or talking to anyone who wasn't Ben.

No offense to Ran because he was actually a pretty awesome dude. At six-foot-three with blonde hair, bronzed skin, and an athlete's body, he was hot enough to be a model. Even more importantly, he had _the most_ adorable personality to compliment his looks.

But sometimes the only guy you wanted to see was the one you were crushing on. And even a supermodelish-looking hottie couldn't replace that.

"Hey." Ran gave me a quick hug and then lowered his voice, speaking so only I could hear. "I think I need to apologize for my girlfriend."

"Apologize for what?"

He glanced down. "Um, sometimes Mia comes off as kind of... well, there's no easy way to say this. She can sound a little racist at times."

I snorted. "A little?"

I shook my head. I honestly had no idea how or why a guy like Ran was with a brat like Mia. Sure, she was pretty but how could he put up with her snobbery and ignorance?

"But she's not actually racist. She's just..." Ran took a deep breath. "Well, let's just say that if you knew her parents, you'd understand. They're pretty messed up. And they're all she knows. Because of them, she's never had a normal life. So, she doesn't know how to... um..."

I frowned. It almost sounded like Ran was describing _me._

"I get it." I nodded and Ran looked at me in surprise. "Mia doesn't know how to be anything other than a narrow-minded snob. But she means well."

Ran laughed and then abruptly stopped. I guessed he realized he shouldn't laugh at his own girlfriend's expense.

"That's nice of you to apologize on her behalf." I glanced back at the closed locker room door. "But, how did you even find out about what she said in there?"

Ran smiled. "I know Los Angeles is pretty backwoods, but around here, we have this invention called the cellular telephone and text messaging, which-"

"Okay, okay." I waved him off. "I was just wondering because Mia and I had that run-in, like, less than three minutes ago. She must have texted you right away."

Ran shrugged and started backing away from me. "Just go easy on her. She's not as bad as you think."

"Anything for you." I smiled.

Technically, Ran was kind of my hero. On my first day at SLH, I'd walked into the noisy cafeteria on my own, ready to pretend not to be embarrassed that I had absolutely no one to eat with. I chose an inconspicuous seat near the windows and picked at my food. All of a sudden, someone plopped a tray in front of mine. I looked up to find Randall Hawke sitting across from me - and let's just say a girl doesn't forget that sight.

At a loss for words, I stared while he said, "Can I sit here? I really liked your movie."

I said yes and accepted his accolades. For the next ten minutes, we talked about acting and, at various points in the conversation, he'd invite people to sit with us. I was impressed by how many friends he had. Before I knew it, I was sitting at a table full of people, including Megs, the girl who would eventually become one of my closest friends.

Now, Ran shot me a thumbs up as he walked backwards. "Thanks. Later, Drew,"

"Sure - oh! Wait, Ran," I called after him. "Have you seen Ben around?"

"Yeah. He's in his usual spot." Ran grinned and pointed to me. "He's right behind you _._ "

My heart skipping a beat, I spun around.

Sure enough, Ben was a few feet away, heading towards me. We locked eyes and a goofy smile took hold of my mouth.

"Hey." I lifted a hand and waved. Why was I waving and cheesing like I hadn't seen him all day? We just spoke to each other fifteen minutes ago.

Ben didn't seem to mind my dorky greeting. He smiled and waved back.

"So, about Thursday," he said as he approached. "Is it super fancy? Like, I-need-to-buy-a-tux, fancy?"

I bit down on my bottom lip and imagined Ben in a trim fit Armani tux. I shifted my book bag on my shoulders. Too bad he thought we were going as "friends."

"And, once again, Drew is no longer with us." Ben shook his head in mock annoyance.

I snapped out of my fantasy. "Um, yeah. A tux is perfect."

Should I tell him I wanted this to be more like a date, and not so much a friendly outing?

I laced my hands together, nerves washing over me.

"Sweet." He smiled. "Sounds good. I can't wait. Are other celebrities going to be there?"

"Yeah." I cleared my throat and clenched my fists. I took a step towards him. "Ben? I was wondering if-"

"Attention students." The noise of the intercom, followed by Coach Jacob's whistle and madman-like scream for us to "Pipe down and listen to the dang announcement" stopped me mid-sentence.

"Drew Everett." Startled by the sound of my own name over the PA system, I listened as the announcement went on. "Please report to the principal's office."

Ben's eyebrows went up. "Uh oh, what did you do?"

"I have no idea."

Ben smiled and gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. "It's probably nothing."

"Guess I'd better go. See you at lunch." I forced a smile and started for the gym's exit doors.

"Drew?" Ben called.

I turned around. "Yeah?"

"What were you going to ask me?" He looked at me expectantly. "Before the announcement, you were saying something."

"Oh, um, I-I..." I gulped and looked down at my nails, pretending to examine them. Why was I looking at my nails? Who looked at their nails in the middle of a conversation? __ I looked up. "It was nothing, um, don't worry about it... I'll see you later. Okay?"

Ben somehow managed to frown and laugh at me all at once. "Okay. Later," he said, still chuckling.

Feeling like the biggest doofus on the planet, I hurried out of the gym.

#

V _ia & Heath forever._

The words were scrawled in black marker on the front of some kid's locker, and they sent a streak of guilt straight through me. Still staring at them, I came to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway, bringing my trek to the principal's office to a halt.

_How would Heath's girlfriend have felt if she'd heard what me and Heath were saying to each other in gym?_

My guilt intensifying, I took a deep breath. This turned out to be a very bad idea because it meant inhaling the acidic smell that permeated South Louisiana High's every hallway. And the odor was especially bad on the first floor.

Wrinkling my nose, I silently cursed SLH's weird smells, overly flirtatious jocks, and prejudiced cheerleaders. _If it weren't for Ben and Megs, I swear I'd ditch school every day._

I sighed and continued down our school's first floor hallway.

Most of the lockers I passed were victims of my black-marker toting peers. Everyone seemed hell-bent on declaring the expected longevity of their current relationship and on reaffirming their own existence as an SLH student who had been "here." Their graffiti was childish and stupid, but I understood it. If you were a part of the scribbles, it meant you fit in.

Your name scribbled in black next to some silly message was proof of your place in SLH's history.

I thought about Chad Block's green room and the way I'd used a sharpie to sign my name between J.J. and Zac's. That's where I belonged.

A pang of homesickness tore through me and I wanted to drop to my knees screaming, "L.A.!!" like some re-mixed version of Stanley from _A Streetcar Named Desire_.

Despite these theatrical urgings, I kept my inner crazy-actress at bay and turned my attention to the faded brown sign ahead that said, "Principal's Office."

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts, and I grabbed it from my purse.

_Clara_. I frowned down at my older sister's name.

Communication from her was about as rare as a bad review of a Meryl Strep performance- it basically _never_ happened. A combination of surprise, joy, and resentment sweeping through me, I opened her text.

My older sister and I hadn't spoken or even texted each other in about three months. It wasn't that we were in a fight or anything like that. It was all because of Clara's schedule. She was literally jet-setting from one photo shoot to the next on a daily basis. And I guess I could've sent her a random text here and there to check in but... well, honestly I was too proud to be the one to make the first move.

When your older sister is a beautiful and internationally adored supermodel, it doesn't take long for you to realize that you'll never be as loved as she is. It also doesn't take long for the jealousy to set in. And before you know it, you're staring at an unsent, "How've you been?" text, your forefinger hovering over the send button, as you mumble something like, "The phone goes both ways," before deleting said text and throwing your phone back into your purse.

But now, Clara was actually texting me: **Call me.**

I slipped my phone back into my purse. _I'll get in touch with her later_.

Just as I'd put the phone away, a familiar voice called my name, "Drew?"

I looked up to find my theater teacher, Ms. Karin Greenich, exiting the principal's office. Ms. Karin was a tall and semi-pretty lady who managed to make herself invisible by dressing like a modern version of Mary Poppins. Now, she smiled at me and I returned her grin. Despite Ms. Karin's many fashion misses, she's one of those people you just can't help but like. Kind of like Megs. I guess I've come across a few people like that since moving to Swamp Rose.

"Hey, Ms. Karin. What's going on?"

"Same ol', same ol." She tilted her head. "But, how are you doing, Drew?"

How was I? I thought back to what had happened in the past sixty minutes, from screaming at a bunch of people in the girl's locker room to unsuccessfully fighting lustful urges for a dumb jock who already had a girlfriend to realizing that I was falling in love with my best friend.

I shook my head. "I have no idea."

Ms. Karin smiled. "It's a tough question, isn't it?"

"You could say that."

"Actually, it's also a silly question," Ms. Karin said with a chuckle. "How are any of us supposed to know how we're doing when we're just making it from moment to moment?"

I smiled, relaxing a bit. "Glad to hear I'm not the only one."

"You aren't. I can assure you of that. Hang in there, kiddo." She slipped her hands into the pockets of her drab brown sweater and walked past me. "Being so far away from home can't be easy, but you handle it exceptionally well."

A surge of pride washed over me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she called over her shoulder.

It was amazing how one little compliment could completely lift your spirits. With a spring in my step, I made my way into the principal's office where I was hit by a smell of Lysol that was so intense it sent me into a coughing fit. Eyes closed and palm over my mouth, I coughed the antiseptic scent out of my lungs. A firm palm clapped me on my back several times and I jumped, surprised. And when the back-clapper spoke, I was doubly surprised...

"Are you okay?" The familiar voice stole the spring from my step and replaced it with a punch to my heart.

I turned around to face Lenora Everett.

The woman to blame for my sucky genes stood before me, one of her hands on my back, patting me, and the other at the side of my book bag, as if to steady me. I checked her eyes. They were clear and alert. Well, at least she didn't _look_ high.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I instinctively took a step back, moving just out of her reach.

Lenora's face fell, as if my question had somehow hurt her. In retrospect, I could understand why it would have. But at the time, all I could see were my own feelings.

Her gaze shifted to somewhere behind me and I turned to see what she was looking at. Behind me stood a tall man with a ponytail, and in his hand was a small, handheld camera.

She brought a _cameraman_ with her?

"What's going on?" I demanded, staring at the cameraman.

"Drew." Lenora took a deep breath. "I've received an offer I can't pass up."

"Oh my God. You've got to be kidding me." I sighed. She didn't need to say another word. I knew exactly where she was headed with this. "Let me guess," I said, turning to face her. "This time your excuse for quitting rehab is that some lame reality show offered you a deal and you're going to take it, which means we have to move again?"

"No, it's not like that at all. For once, I've made a decision that's in our family's best interest." Lenora took a step towards me. Just beyond her, the principal's executive assistant, Ms. Reacher, sat at her desk, pretending not to listen.

" _What_ family?" I retorted. "We've never been a family."

"Honey, let me explain."

Lenora reached for me, but I pushed her hand away.

"I trusted you. I thought this time would be different." I shook my head. "But of course it's not."

Lenora's lips tightened, which enunciated her high cheekbones. The pain in her eyes was so intense that seeing it hurt _me_. I tried to brush the feeling off, telling myself she was just acting. After all, didn't I do the same thing when I wanted an audience to feel sorry for me?

I avoided her eyes as she spoke through gritted teeth. "This time _will be_ different. I'm not quitting rehab. I'm moving to a new facility that's going to record my progress so other people... other addicts... can have hope."

I dared a glance at Lenora and her bottom lip was trembling.

_Oh God_... my heart ached and a lump formed in my throat, but I'd sooner let Lenora punch me in my freaking face before I'd let her over-dramatics make me cry. I wasn't a kid anymore; she didn't have that kind of power over me.

I rolled my eyes and refused to look at her as she continued. "Drew, I'm going to beat this and when others see me do it, they'll know they can too." Her voice shook with emotion.

I told myself that her little speech was nothing more than a rehearsed monologue. The main character - Lenora - makes a promise while tears fall from her beautiful, sad eyes.

"You can stop acting, M-Mom," I said, stumbling over the M-word. I hadn't called her that in years. "We both know how this is going to play out. You'll go to this new rehab program, but changing programs will screw with everything you've learned so far and you'll relapse. Just like always."

"Drew, look at me." Lenora's voice was a shaky whisper, but her tone was serious. Something about it made me turn and face her. We watched each other, her green eyes settling on mine with intense determination. "I need you to trust me. I know that's asking a lot. But I really need your trust."

I gulped, my gaze going to her uncharacteristically small and conservative stud earrings.

How? Trusting _anyone_ was beyond scary. But trusting a parent who had consistently failed me in every way - how could I even begin to do that?

" _Please_." Lenora's voice shook.

My mouth going dry, I nodded. "Okay."

She smiled, her entire face lighting up like she'd just won another Oscar.

I looked away, trying not to make too much eye contact as I asked, "So, are we moving back to L.A. for this new rehab program? And just a heads up: I won't be able to fly out until after this Thursday, because I have a... thing." My thoughts shifted to Ben and my heart sank. After this weekend, I was probably never going to see him again.

"That's the thing, honey." Lenora cringed and looked down at her feet. "The program is in Sweden and I need to be there for four months."

I took a deep breath, processing this. "Okay."

"And," she continued, shifting on her white tennis shoes. "I want you here, finishing the schoolyear. You need stability. I might be a terrible mother, but I know that much. I'm leaving today. My flight boards in a couple of hours, but I've already asked your sister to come stay with you. She agreed to take a few months off and be here with you while you finish the school year. Meanwhile, I'll get better and the next time we see each other, I'll be healthy." The shaky half-smile on my mother's mouth kicked at my heart and I ran my tongue across my teeth to stop myself from yelling, "Yeah right!"

Silence filled the small office.

"Okay, honey?" my mother finally asked. She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

I fixed my gaze on the potted ivy occupying the windowsill behind Ms. Reacher's desk. "I hope you get better," I quietly replied.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy with the camera shift on his feet uncomfortably. Clearly, being the third wheel during an intense mother-daughter moment wasn't exactly fun times.

"Thank you, Drew." My mother took my hand and gave it a squeeze, her index finger rubbing against the silver ring on my pinkie. "Will you be all right on your own?"

"I've been okay for the past fifteen years," I said. "I don't see what's so different now."

Those green eyes of hers widened and bore into mine, sending a pang of guilt straight to my soul. "I'm sorry. I just really think this is good for me," she said, her voice too soft to be picked up by the cheap camera hovering at our right. "It'll be good for _us_."

That was when it dawned on me that my mother wasn't even mic'd. What reality show didn't mike their actors? What kind of crappy show had she agreed to do?

"I understand." I glanced down at my hand, which she was still holding. Gently setting my free hand on top of our entwined fists, I lowered my voice, "Are you sure you'll __ be okay?"

She nodded a bit too quickly.

She looked fragile, like a strong wind could knock her down... actually, I guessed she'd already been knocked down and now she was just trying to get back up.

"Really?" I asked.

Mom shook her head, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. She let them crawl down her cheeks, untouched. Instead of wiping them away, she tightened her grip on my hand.

"No," she whispered. "I'm not. The only thing I'm sure of is that I love you. It's so important that you know that, Drew. I love you, you're my baby."

My eyes filled and I nodded.

Just to be clear, in that moment I was still angry with her. After all, anger was the theme of our relationship. But as I watched my mom cry, I could feel some hidden speck in my heart taking over and pushing a subplot into focus... and according to it, I was just a lonely girl, desperate for the love of the only mother she'd ever known.

Mom squeezed my hand even harder and held my gaze. "I love you so much. That's the only reason I still try, because I love you." She kept repeating herself, like she didn't think I believed her. And, in all honesty, she was right to assume that.

"Okay." A tear slid over my lips and I let go of her hands. "I love you too, Mom."

Wiping the salty water from my mouth, I glanced at Ms. Reacher, who met my eyes before quickly looking away. I tugged at the hem of my blouse and took a deep breath before clearing my throat and attempting to pull myself together.

I pointed to the man with the camera. "What network can I watch you on? Or do I have to wait until next season?"

Mom shook her head. "This isn't for television. It'll be a DVD that only certain rehab patients will have access to - they'll watch it as part of their therapy." She spoke with resolution, in a decisive tone that made me feel like less of an idiot for hoping. Maybe this time really would be different. From her plain white tennis shoes to the neat ponytail into which her golden locks had been pulled, my mother already _looked_ different.

I smiled. "That's good."

She nodded and took a step back, the cameraman following her every move. She retrieved her purse from a chair by the door and looked me in the eye. "I'll see you in four months."

"Four months," I agreed.

I tucked my hands under the straps of my backpack and watched Mom leave with the cameraman. When the door closed behind her, I felt lost.

It wasn't like Lenora Everett had ever been the type to kiss my scraped knees, talk to me about boys and periods, or do whatever it was mothers did, but she was my family. And she was leaving. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

Without a glance back at Ms. Reacher, I exited the principal's office. As soon as the door closed behind me, my phone rang.

I looked down the hallway and watched my mom stroll along with her cameraman. Heaving a sigh, I grabbed my phone from my purse.

It was my sister again, and this time she was calling instead of just texting.

Suddenly understanding why my sister was trying so hard to reach me, I picked up the phone. She was calling to talk to me about Mom asking her to come "babysit" me for four months. For all I knew, she'd say she couldn't swing it.

"Hey, Clara," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "Yeah, I know about everything, I just talked to Mom. But it's fine if you can't come."

"What? What are you talking about?" Clara asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

I frowned. "Aren't you calling about Mom's plan to have us in Louisiana while she goes to rehab?"

"Oh. That. Uh, no. Um..." Her voice trailed off and I heard what sounded suspiciously like a burp.

"You sound tired. Is it early wherever you are?" I asked.

"No. I'm just..."

Silence.

I frowned. "Clara, are you there?"

"What? Oh. I fell asleep again. Listen. I need you to wire me thirty grand, like, now." She yawned in my ear.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, as soon as you can. Last time Lenora wired it from some store in your town, it was, like, Corner Place or Corner Mart. I really need it now. Okay?"

"Last time," I repeated. "There was a 'last time'? Clara, why are _you_ suddenly needing money? You're one of the richest supermodels in-"

"Just do it, Drew. Please. Come on," she whined. "When was the last time I asked you for anything?"

She had a point. She never asked me for anything... of course that was probably because she never went out of her way to contact me.

"Please, Drew?"

Biting down on my bottom lip, I said, "Okay, I'll leave school now and wire it."

We said a quick goodbye and I hung up, unanswered questions filling my thoughts. Why did a rich and world-famous supermodel suddenly need to borrow thirty grand from her little sister?

#

After parking in front of Corner Mart, Swamp Rose's one major grocery store, I sauntered past a buggy containing a screaming toddler. The mother was busy -a stoic-faced woman wearing rollers that were barely covered by a ratty blue scarf on her head- literally _threw_ bags of groceries into the trunk of her car.

Back home, no one would have dared leave their house looking that bad.

Eager to leave the depressing scene, I fell into stride behind two blonde ponytails. One belonged to a woman of medium height who was clad in a pantsuit that was clearly a relic from the nineties. She held the hand of smaller bouncing ponytail whose waif-like figure marched along in a pink leotard and tutu.

When I was four, Lenora put me in a ballet class. Eventually, I got to the age where my career needs, consisting of pageants, roles in made-for-television movies, and commercial shoots, required a class with a more flexible schedule. So, when I was six, Lenora hired a personal dance instructor under the agreement that the instructor would make herself available according to my needs.

The instructor was Winnie Herod, a willowy brunette from South Africa, who happened to be one of the best instructors in the country. She'd danced with New York City Ballet for over ten years, but decided to retire after a knee injury. Once she'd made L.A. her home, Winnie kept herself occupied by teaching bratty yet talented kids like yours truly.

Winnie rarely smiled and she shared her opinions with cutting candor, which Lenora hated and I loved. She reminded me of my favorite directors on set; she expected a lot from me and consistently believed in me. A few months earlier, when I'd left L.A., _Winnie_ was the one who saw me to the airport.

Tears filled her eyes while she looked at me, kissed both of my cheeks and then abruptly turned away, leaving me to face the annoyingly perky flight attendant who would escort me to first class.

Sighing, I pushed thoughts of Winnie aside and continued my trek to Corner Mart's entrance. The tiny blonde girl, her tutu shimmering against the backdrop of the dreary brown and red grocery store, slipped her hand out of her mother's and ran to the grocery carts, which were haphazardly strewn across the store's front entrance.

"Coral!" Pantsuit Ponytail shouted, frowning at her escaping daughter.

The little dancer turned around, an innocent grin on her face. "I'm getting the buggy, Mom! I want to push it. You said I could push it!"

As I approached the store's automatic doors, I got a better view of Pantsuit Ponytail's face. Her frown disappeared and a grin, a replica of her daughter's, formed on her lips. "Okay, just don't run away from me like that. I didn't know what you were doing."

I stepped through the doors and the odor of raw chicken and old dairy products was immediately thrown into my nostrils by Corner Mart's high-powered AC. Nausea bore down on my stomach and I paused to get my bearings. Why did country stores always smell so disgusting?

I scanned the front of the store for a customer service area where I could make a wire transfer. There were three registers; two unmanned and one attended by a cashier who, in the midst of chewing on her gum and staring into space, resembled a human cow.

"Mom, I think the girls in my dance class want candy. We should buy those for them!" The little dancer's voice piped up from behind me and I turned to the mother-daughter duo. She pushed the shopping cart as she looked up at her mother and pointed to several jars of Tootsie Rolls on display. The mother, suddenly catching my eye, gave me a friendly smile and I grinned.

The woman's eyes were still on me as her smile waned and she titled her head, staring at me. _Oh my God, she recognizes me. Yassss! And here we go in three, two, one..._ Trying not to look too excited, I steadied myself for what was to come.

"I'm so sorry," Ponytail Pantsuit said, placing a hand on the cart to bring her daughter to a halt. The little girl looked up at her mother and then at me. Pantsuit Ponytail's eyes twinkled as she asked, "Are you Drew Everett?"

I winked and lowered my voice. "That's me. Thank you for whispering. I'm only here for a quick errand, so I don't want to start a frenzy or anything."

For some reason, this seemed to amuse the woman and she chuckled. I assumed she was nervous, so I offered her a kind smile.

"I loved you in _I Already Knew_!" Pantsuit Ponytail exclaimed once her laughter died down. "And I don't care what the critics said, that's my favorite Amelia Hearth film yet..."

I blinked.

"...you were tremendous," she went on.

"How kind of you," I replied through gritted teeth. "You guys have a great day now."

The woman nodded and I turned away, immediately ditching my fake grin.

Sure, a few critics didn't like the movie itself, but their opinion of the script and directing had nothing to do with their opinion of _my performance_ , which was flawless! Why was it that no matter how much of my best I gave, it was still never enough?

Four short months ago, I thought I'd "made it" and now look at me - I lived in a segregated swamp. I smoothed down my blouse, took a deep breath and strode to the gum-chewing cashier.

But, as I walked, I couldn't get my thoughts to slow down. The things Heath and his friend said wouldn't leave my mind...

When I sprained my arm right before Chad's show, I could've thrown in the towel. But instead, I put on a smile, forced my butt out on that stage, and after giving my _absolute best,_ people made fun of me for sounding, "stuck up," "looking high," and calling myself "a fantastic actress." If I couldn't do anything right in their eyes, then why did I even bother trying?

Passing the first, unmanned cash register, I __ toyed with the silver ring on my pinkie. I paused mid stride and glanced at my ring, recalling what Winnie said when she gave it to me.

"Every time we look at the night sky, we're faced with an innumerable number of stars, but our eyes are drawn to the brightest. These give us reassurance. No matter how far we are from home, every time we look up, there they are, in the same place. Most of the time, we don't even realize how comforting their presence is. We only know that after we've seen them, for some reason we feel better."

At that point, I'd wondered why she was talking to me about stars. But then, Winnie had slipped the ring on my finger and smiled. "This is for you, the brightest star I've ever met. One day, people are going to look to you for reassurance."

That right there gave me chills _on top of chills_ , not to mention a few tears too. I'd been waiting for someone to call me a star since forever. Not flippantly, I mean. My mother's silly friends would constantly joke about me being a "diva" or a "star," but they were never serious. They didn't mean it. This was different because Winnie _meant it_.

Coming out of my memories, I stared down at the ring... one day, everyone was going to know who I was and they were going to like me.

I readjusted my purse on my shoulder, lifted my chin, and headed to Corner Mart's __ one available cashier.

"Excuse me?"

The girl turned to me and I was immediately assaulted by the hideous light blue eye shadow smeared above her eyes and the bright red lipstick caked on to her overly-glistening lips.

Squelching my desire to duck and take cover, I smiled. "I need to wire money. Where do I go for that?"

The girl sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Back right corner, near the pharmacy." She pointed to the back of the store and I followed her finger to a large sign that said, "Checks, Money Orders, Etc..."

How'd I miss that?

"Thanks," I replied, moving past her to follow the direction of the sign. I glanced at the aisle around me and I spotted a jar of pickled pig's feet and a dark green jar labeled, "Alligator Parts."

As much as people raved about Louisiana's delicacies, there were some things I simply refused to touch. __ My stomach tensing, I hurried along. Straight ahead, a butcher hacked away at a dead chicken and to my right, a white sign with blue letters that said, "Pharmacy" hung over a small window. To the right of the pharmacy was the surprisingly busy customer service center.

The service center's long line consisted of people who looked as though they'd just woken up, rolled out of bed, and walked, clad in their pajamas, all the way to Corner Mart.

Groaning, I tightened my grip on my purse and headed for the line. I hated this. I absolutely did not belong in a line with _these people_.

Heath and his friend's accusation popped into my mind.

No, I wasn't a snob. I was a realist.

Falling in line behind a man who smelled like he'd just come from working on a shrimp boat, I held my breath, reached into my purse and fumbled around until I found my Perfectly Pearl body spray. I discreetly used it to spray the unsavory air.

While the customer service center's lone cashier took eighty billion hours to process each customer's request, I took in my surroundings. To the left of the long line was an exit door, and on the other side of the door was the pharmacist's window, where an older man in a white coat frowned at his computer screen.

"Next!" shouted our cashier and I, along with the rest of the line, shuffled forward.

I hated this. __ I gritted my teeth. __ I hated being stuck with these people like I was part of this herd of disease-ridden cattle. Why was Clara even asking me to do this? She was worth more than I was. She couldn't possibly be hurting for money.

A creaking door stole my attention. A pretty young woman, thin and extremely bald, opened the exit door. Her eyes, large and brown, scanned the vicinity as she glanced around, smiling pleasantly at the people in line, most of whom, I noticed, smiled in return. Clutching a cute black purse, the woman made her way to the pharmacist's window.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was beautiful and, obviously, very sick. But she was smiling pleasantly. I watched her grin at the pharmacist. "Hey, Frank. It's your favorite customer."

Losing his frown, Pharmacist Frank looked up from that all-consuming computer of his.

"Nell! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed, grinning at the young woman as if she were a long-lost friend. "Since you asked me that question last week, I've done a lot of thinking and I've got an answer for you."

"Yeah? What did you come up with? I've been dying to hear this." She laughed. "Literally."

"Next!" shouted the cashier.

Though shuffling along with the rest of the herd, I leaned towards the pharmacist, eager to eavesdrop on his response to whatever question Nell had asked him.

"Well, it involves Harry Styles," he replied with a laugh while he pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose. As he grinned, I recognized what Nell must have seen in the silver-haired pharmacist that made her decide to befriend him. He looked a lot friendlier when he smiled.

"Harry Styles?" She chuckled and leaned against the counter, resting her small chin in her hands as she looked at him. "I've got to hear this."

_So do I,_ I thought, a smile forming on my own lips.

"My granddaughter's thirteen and she loves One Direction." He shook his head. "I can't relate to that, but I love her and if I had twenty-four hours left on this earth, I'd spend them with her. I'd take her to one of their concerts. I think she'd like that, and ..."

My thoughts shifted to my mother. If someone told Lenora she had only twenty-four hours left, would she spend them with me and Clara?

"Next!" shouted the Cashier.

Moving up in line, I watched Pharmacist Frank blush as Nell leaned towards him. "That's beautiful. Even though you probably have a lot more than twenty-four hours, I think you should do it. This weekend."

She said more, but she lowered her voice and I couldn't hear her. I watched her lips move as she spoke to him and I watched him look at her with the awe of a man who'd stumbled upon an angel... as if she were a star who was meant to guide his way. And that was when it hit me that I'd been doing everything _wrong_.

I bit down on my bottom lip. When I was younger, one of my science tutors told me what made a star bright was everything that happened inside of it. The collisions and transformations of the atoms that comprised the star were what changed its appearance, making it brighter and more visible to human eyes.

For a star to be brighter, it had to change _from the inside out_.

I glanced at the people in line ahead of me.

An old lady with pale skin and frizzy red hair leaned against her walker while she gave our slow cashier the evil eye. Behind Red Frizz was a young woman whose blonde extensions were halfway falling out of her real hair. Bad Weave was followed by a dark-skinned man in a torn t-shirt who held a similarly poorly dressed - but incredibly cute - toddler in his arms, and behind him stood Mr. I-Smell-Like-a-Shrimp-Boat.

_All_ of these people had turned to that Nell woman when she walked through the door. They'd looked at her with blatant curiosity, maybe even with the desire to be acknowledged by her.

In her quiet way, Nell was a star.

She didn't need to speak loudly, wear expensive clothing, or bother to put a wig on over her bald head because her brightness came from within.

I wasn't like that. I was more like my mother.

I ran my palm over Winnie's silver ring, my heart sinking as I considered this. Lenora craved attention and buried her neediness with pills and drinks. I craved attention and hid my fears behind a façade of strength.

It wasn't bravery that made me ignore a fractured arm and do Chad's show. I did that because I craved the attention I thought it would bring. Why were my mom and I like this? What was wrong with us?

The exit door creaked and I looked up. Nell was leaving, and held the door open for an older man and woman who were dressed as though they'd just returned from a Hawaiian vacation. The man, dark-skinned and wearing a hideous floral shirt over khaki cargo pants smiled and said thank you to Nell before grabbing the door and holding it open for his companion. The woman smiled grandly as she clutched a gigantic old-fashioned purse that somehow complemented the matching floral shirt she wore over white Capri pants.

As she stepped over the threshold, our eyes met and my heart leaped. I don't know... I guess this was kind of stupid but I thought that _this moment_ was my chance to start fresh. Right there in that store that smelled like dead animals and body odor. I could change from the inside out and become the Drew who Winnie would be proud of.

_Don't think about how ugly her floral shirt is,_ I silently commanded. _Think about something more positive, like her haircut, which is very chic._

I focused on the older woman's pixie-style haircut and offered her my sincerest smile.

Her eyes lit up and she returned my grin.

Surprised by how much she'd brightened at being acknowledged, I politely turned away as she said, "Tom, that's the line for the money orders. We need to be in that line over there."

"Where? Right there?" Her companion boomed.

"No, Tom!" she shouted. "That's the pharmacy. We want the line for money orders. Behind that pretty young lady in the peach blouse. We need to go there!"

Geez, hard of hearing much? __ I reminded myself that I needed to think positive, unselfish thoughts and shifted on my feet even as I attempted to shift the thoughts that ran through my head.

She called me pretty. That was nice of her.

"Oh, I see it. Okay!" Tom shouted.

Before I knew it, they were behind me.

"My goodness, I wish we could have stayed another week," the woman said with a sigh.

I figured it _was_ Hawaii they'd just came from.

"Flayed another beak? What are you talking about?" Tom chuckled. His booming voice made everyone ahead of me turn around to give him a look. Unabashed, he went on, "Do you mean fillet another _fish_? I wish so too. Those fish were delicious. I-"

"No, Tom!" the woman interrupted. "I said I wish we could have _stayed another week_! My word, you need those earpieces or whatever you call those contraptions. As soon as we get home, we're ordering you a new pair."

"They're not earpieces, Laura; they're hearing aids. How much did you drink on the plane?" Tom laughed.

"Oh, you." Laura chuckled and I smiled to myself.

If Ben and I were that old, I bet we'd be just as crazy as them.

"Next!" shouted our cashier.

While our line moved forward, Laura muttered, "Could she yell any louder?"

I turned to the older woman and whispered, "She couldn't be any louder if she had a bullhorn."

Laura giggled and her husband leaned forward. "What are you ladies cackling about?"

Laura rolled her eyes and shifted her large purse on her shoulder. "Don't tell him. Telling him a secret means telling everyone within the next thirty miles. The man can't hear a thing."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond, so I just kept smiling. Laura watched me very carefully, her eyes narrowing. "You look familiar..." Her voice trailed off and she gasped. "My word!" With this, Laura grabbed my arm. "You're an actress, aren't you? I think I just saw you in a movie on our flight!"

A rush of excitement swept over me and I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I'm an actress."

"My word! This is so _exciting_. What's your name?" Laura beamed.

"Drew." I offered her my hand for a shake. "Drew Everett."

She took my hand and instead of shaking it, clasped it tightly between her palms. For some reason, this made me smile even more and I hoped she'd take her time letting go.

"Tom!" she called over her shoulder. "Tom, look here! We're in line behind that actress who was in the movie we saw on the plane! She played the little girl with the eating disorder."

Tom ambled up, moving closer to the two of us. He grinned. "Sure is! Would you look at that! So, what's your name?"

Before I could open my mouth, Laura piped up. "Drew. Drew Everett. And she's so much sweeter than her character was in that movie! Oh, you were terrible!"

I wasn't sure if it would be more appropriate to say, "thank you" or "I'm sorry," so I just kept smiling.

"I _liked_ your character!" Tom exclaimed. "I tell you, it broke my heart when you died halfway through the film. I almost stopped watching."

Despite the awkward compliment, I was flattered and my cheeks warmed.

"Thank you, that means a lot to me." I grinned.

"Sure, it's heartfelt. Hey! Weren't you just in another picture that was out at the movies? A big one?" he asked.

I nodded. "I shot an Amelia Hearth film last summer. _I Already Knew_ was the name of it."

"Oh, that's right!!" Laura's eyes lit up and her smile broadened. "My goodness, you're as famous as - what's her name? The girl with the nice shape. Is it Nefertiti?"

_What?_

I tried not to frown.

"No, hon. Beyoncé. You mean Beyoncé," Tom said, correcting Laura, his voice booming over every other sound in the vicinity. Bad Weave turned around to look at him and one of her blonde extensions fell out, landing on Corner Mart's dirty floor.

At this point, I was trying my hardest not to burst out laughing.

"No, not her! Not the short-haired actress with the French boyfriend who left her. I mean the one with the beautiful singing voice. That one _you_ like-" Laura said, putting both of her hands on her hips as she turned to face Tom.

"That's _Beyoncé_!" Tom retorted, his voice even louder.

"Next!" the cashier shouted.

I turned to move up in line when Laura exclaimed, "Oh, you know what? I happen to have our new camera in my purse; Drew, dear, I wonder if you wouldn't mind taking a picture with me?"

"That way we'll have proof that we met a star!" Tom beamed.

A star. He called me a star.

I smiled and, with all of my heart, said, "I'd love to."

Laura dug into her nine-million-pound bag for a huge camera and had Tom take our picture. As I linked my arm through Laura's and smiled for the camera, her perfume wafted over me. It smelled like vanilla and I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a grandmother who smelled like vanilla, praised your every semi-success, and called you "dear." I maintained my smile as Tom took the picture, but my heart was heavy with wishes for things I'd never have.

Tom lowered the camera and frowned down at it. "I think we should take one more because -"

The crash of a slamming door cut him off midsentence and I turned to the door behind us.

A heavyset man in a ski mask stood in the doorway, a _gun_ in his right hand.

I looked around, hoping this was some kind of prank. But everyone in the vicinity, from the pharmacist to the man in front of me who smelled of shrimp, were either gasping or frozen in fear. No one screamed. No one moved.

While the air was thick with silence, the gun-wielding intruder yelled, "Everyone get down on the ground _now_!"

My heart pounding, I started for the floor when a clattering crash sounded behind me. I whirled around to find Tom wide-eyed and his hands shaking as he looked down at the camera he'd dropped.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man with the gun yelled. He aimed his weapon at Tom.

"No!" I shouted and instinctively darted in front of Tom. The gunman's face was covered but his angry blue eyes were visible.

My knees quivering in fear, I looked the masked man in the eye. "You don't want to hurt us. You just want money. So, take the money and go."

The gunman glared back at me and I realized that I'd put absolutely no forethought into whatever I was doing.

Oh my God, I was probably going to get shot.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when the masked man collapsed. His gun tumbled away as he fell to the floor. It slid a few feet forward and I just stood there, frozen and staring at the fallen man in confusion.

My mouth was completely dry and my thoughts were a nonsensical jumble. I looked around... everyone else was still on the ground and they all looked as scared as I felt.

_I should do something._

I took a step forward and picked up the gunman's weapon. He emitted a low groan as I aimed the gun at him.

I don't think I'd ever been so full of fear. My pits and palms had basically become waterfalls and I was scared _out of my mind_. But I mustered every bit of acting ability I could to sound confident as I barked a line from my role in a 2013 flop called, _CIA - Division High School_. "Stay down and face the ground, you piece of scum! You move, I shoot. Do _not_ test me!"

_Please, God, please don't let him move. I don't want to shoot this guy. I don't think I even can,_ I silently pleaded.

The robber made a whimpering noise before lowering his head and then I think he passed out. I maintained my death grip on the gun, stared down at him, and wondered what on Earth had just happened.

#

Channel 7's news camera was humongous and it looked like it belonged in pre-internet times. I guessed I shouldn't have been all that surprised to find that a racially divided town's local news station still used cameras from the dark ages.

Dismissing this, I smized into the lens of the gargantuan camera and said, "Ophelia, I've never thought of myself as a hero..." I let my voice trail off and glanced at the gathered crowd, waiting for them to applaud.

Silence.

I took a closer look at the stoic audience. In a throng of about seventy-five, exactly three people were looking at me with approving smiles: Laura, Tom, and the gum-chewing Corner Mart cashier.

Yikes. Tough crowd.

I gulped and returned my attention to Ophelia Davis, the reporter who'd scored an interview with me. She was a surprisingly professional woman with long dark hair, light brown skin, perfume that smelled even better than mine, and a honeyed voice that was perfect for delivering the evening news.

A few hours earlier, when Ophelia and her team arrived to the "scene of the crime," several people had bashfully asked her for her autograph. While she'd obliged, I'd watched, wondering why no one asked for mine. The local celebrity now tilted her head, her brown eyes widening as she stared at me... expectantly.

Oh my God, I'd been in a middle of a sentence. Crap. What was I going to say?

I forced a laugh and shifted on my feet, my cheeks warming. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought."

"Perfectly understandable; you've been through a lot," Ophelia replied as she offered me a kind smile. "So, Drew, I'm curious, do you think your roles in action movies played a part in the way you were able to handle this situation?"

"Possibly." I shrugged. "But to be honest, I didn't do anything exceptional. I just grabbed the guy's gun after he went down. The police were the ones who handled everything. They got here in less than five minutes and they were great about making sure we were all okay."

The audience clapped and I turned to them in surprise. _Now_ they were clapping? Interesting...

Once the applause died down, Ophelia asked, "Considering the way the robber collapsed, do you think this was the work of the South Louisiana Super Man?"

I stared at Ophelia blankly. "Sorry." I forced a smile. "Did you say the South Louisiana Super Man?"

"Yes," Ophelia replied, her expression as serious as her tone. "Are you unfamiliar with our Unseen vigilante?"

I shifted on my feet. "Um, I guess I am..." In my peripheral vision, I noticed someone in the crowd waving. I took a closer look and immediately recognized Ben. My heart skipped a beat and an uncontrollable grin took control of my face. "Ophelia," I hurriedly said, "I'm so sorry, but I've got to go."

"I understand," she replied. "Well, thank you for your time, Drew. And we're glad to have you with us here in Swamp Rose."

"Thank you. I'm... um..." I racked my brain for an honest, yet appropriate response. I glanced at Ben and heard myself say, "I'm glad I'm here."

I PUSHED MY way through the crowd, headed towards Ben. I'd almost made it to him when a small voice yelped, "There she is!" A tiny hand grabbed mine.

I turned to find a little girl of about five or six grasping my hand and pointing at me with her free hand. She was adorable in a pale blue outfit and her long black hair tied back with a pretty blue bow as she gaped at me.

Maybe I _did_ have a fan. __ Delighted, I beamed down at her. "Well, hi there!"

The little girl grinned and released my hand, her blue eyes softening with shyness. "Hi. Um... can I, um..."

So cute.

I lowered myself to one knee and once I was eye level with the little girl I noticed that, like Ben, she had a charming splay of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"Would you like an autograph?" I asked.

"No." She shook her head, the little blue bow quivering with her every move. "I have questions for you."

"Don't let the cuteness fool you," said an older voice. "My daughter's the youngest Unseener in Swamp Rose."

Unseener?

I glanced up to find a woman with jet black hair and blue eyes, an adult version of the little girl at my side. She smiled at me. "So, she'll try to bombard you with questions, but we know you're busy..."

"No, it's okay." I smiled to cover my confusion and returned my attention to the little girl. "Why don't you pick your most important question and I'll answer that one?"

The little girl's ocean blue eyes bore into mine while she reached up and played with the ebony strands of her hair that had been gathered into a neat ponytail.

"Don't do that, sweet pea," her mother whispered. "You'll ruin your hair."

As she said this, a fleeting memory of my own mother telling me the same thing ran through my mind. I glanced down at the grass and sighed. I wondered what my mom was doing right then. Was she sleeping on the plane? Or had she convinced the flight attendant to slip her some alcohol?

"I want to know..." The little girl's voice scorched my thoughts into oblivion and I focused on her. "If you saw him."

At this point, I was unable to hide my bewilderment _,_ so __ I looked to the girl's mother for help. But she just stared right back at me, hope in her eyes.

"Did I see who?" I asked.

"Unseen. The South Louisiana Super Man," the little girl whispered, a lisp affecting her speech.

I stared at her blankly. I wasn't sure how one could see someone called Unseen. I mean, it was in the name.

"Did the bad guys tell you to pretend you didn't see him?" she lisped.

I glanced at the little girl's mother, who blushed as she shook her head. "Sorry, I shouldn't have let her bother you."

I smiled. "No worries; it's all good." I patted the little girl's head, careful to avoid disturbing her bow. "Be good for your mommy, okay?"

With this, I turned back to where I'd seen Ben earlier. But Ben was no longer there. Instead, I found myself staring back at a leering group of guys who looked about my age. There were about six of them and they all wore low, sagging jeans along with the facial expressions of wannabe thugs.

Averting my eyes, I scanned my surroundings for Ben. Where'd he go?

"There she is!" Tom's hard-of-hearing voice sounded behind me and I spun around.

He, Laura, and Ben made their way towards me and I grinned in relief.

"See? I told you I saw her!" Laura exclaimed, frowning at Tom.

"I thought you said something about the harbor," Tom argued. "I could've sworn-"

"Oh, just keep quiet," Laura hissed as she fumbled with her purse. "First you nearly get yourself killed, scaring me to death, and then you break our new camera. I'm fit to be tied..."

While Laura went on, I glanced at Ben to find him watching me. As our eyes met, warmth traveled from my neck to my cheeks.

"Anyway, Drew, dear?" Laura said. "How are _you_? You were so brave in there."

I turned to the older woman and feigned rapt attention. But my Ben-induced blushing hadn't let up. Thank God for dark skin, otherwise I would've been as red as a stop sign.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm... not brave." I shook my head. "I'm just glad we're all okay." Flustered, I redirected the focus of the conversation to Tom as I pointed to the camera he held. "If the camera's broken, maybe Ben can take a look at it. He's a genius when it comes to fixing stuff."

"Ben?" Tom said, confused.

"Her boyfriend," Laura said, elbowing her husband and then pointing at Ben. "The one who was running around looking for her."

_Boyfriend?_ I glanced at Ben and he smiled, which gave me a bit of a heart attack.

"Oh! Really? You fix cameras..." Tom talked to Ben while I took a deep breath and tried to stop being so girly and full of heart palpitations. What was I? A character in a Nicholas Sparks novel? I needed to pull it together.

I returned my attention to Tom and tuned in to him and Ben's conversation.

"I'll get it back to you in about a week," Ben said as he accepted the camera from the older man.

"Great! And my wife gave you our card, so just give us a call and we'll pick it up." Tom smiled.

"It smells like rain," Laura announced and all four of us looked up. She was right. A dark cloud, heavy with rain, loomed in the distance.

"You kids had better go before it starts to pour," she advised before turning to her husband and asking him something.

Ben touched my shoulder. "Did you already talk to the police?"

I nodded.

"Then, can I get a ride home with you?" he asked with a grin.

Why was he smiling like that?

"Of course. And thanks for coming to check on me. I mean, not that that's the only reason why you're here. I know the world doesn't revolve around me." I laughed nervously.

Ben put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, I just felt like walking from my house to Corner Mart for no apparent reason. It had nothing to do with you."

"You walked here _from your house_?" I repeated, my eyes widening. "Ben, that's insane! Your house is, like, a million miles away."

"When your friend tweets, 'Just got a gun pulled on me at Corner Mart,' and then you check the news to find out that Corner Mart was robbed, that kind of gets you out of your house," he said with a chuckle. "I pretty much ran the whole way here, which is why I'm so sweaty right now."

"Oh," I said, staring at him. He _did_ look a little sweaty.

Between everything that had happened today and the surprisingly strong feelings for Ben that were creeping into my heart, I couldn't think clearly. All I knew was that I wanted to throw myself into Ben's arms, make out with him, sob, and then make out with him some more.

But that would've been weird... especially the sobbing part. So, instead of embarrassing us both, I made do with standing incredibly still and staring at Ben in silence. My staring wasn't as unsettling as it sounded because Ben was doing the exact same thing to me.

"Bye, sweetie," Laura said, surprising me with a kiss on my cheek. "I gave your boyfriend our number. Y'all come over for dinner sometime, okay?"

I snapped out of my lust-ridden shock and nodded. "Thanks, we will."

"Baby, do you have our umbrella?" Tom asked.

"Why would _I_ have the umbrella?" Laura retorted. " _You_ were the one who was supposed to..." The older couple walked away, their arguing fading into the distance.

Ben turned to me. "Well, baby, I guess we'd better get going. Right, baby?"

My heart skipped a beat and I grinned. "Yes, my lover. Let's go."

Ben laughed and then cleared his throat as he folded his arms across his chest. Neither of us said a word while we turned away from each other, me scanning Corner Mart's parking lot for my car and Ben ... actually, I had no idea what he was doing.

I'd turned to the mass of people, cameras, and policeman, hoping to jog my memory of where I'd parked, but with the words "lover" and "Ben" creating a tornado in my brain, I wasn't able to fully focus on the finding of my car.

"I don't get people calling their significant other's 'baby.' Is it just me or is that weird?" Ben suddenly said. "Why call the person you're physically attracted to a baby?"

"I don't know," I absently replied. Ben said some more stuff, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. If I looked at him, I'd literally be overcome by the urge to kiss him and either my mind or my ovaries would explode. Maybe both. And that would be gross.

Ben mumbled something that I couldn't quite hear. Still refusing to look at him, I said, "Okay," and attempted to pull my raging hormones into some semblance of acceptable behavior. What was even wrong with me right now?

"Excuse me, baby." A deep voice rang in my right ear, startling me.

I turned to the owner of the voice and one of the saggy pants guys I'd seen earlier was in front of me. He licked his lips, which were very chapped, and shifted on his feet. His already-falling pants fell about an inch more and he struggled to pull them up.

"I just had to come make my way to you," he said, gesturing with one hand and using the other to halfway pull his pants up. I stared at him, unsure of how to respond to... well, to any of what I saw. He licked his lips again. And that's what did it.

I laughed. I laughed so hard tears formed in my eyes.

"Wait a second. Wait ..." I wheezed, trying to get a hold of myself. I held up a hand, took a gulp of air, and said, "Okay. So, first of all, why are you licking your lips at me like I'm a steak?"

The boy's narrowed eyes turned dark and he scowled. "Man, screw you. I was going to ask you for a selfie but forget it. You ain't nothing anyway."

I flinched as if he'd literally hit me. _That_ hurt. To hear a regular person who should easily be one of my fans refer to me as, "nothing" was fairly painful.

But my hurt doesn't typically last long. It usually just turns into anger. And that was what it became at that point.

I took a step towards him and enunciated my every word, to let him know that I knew I was speaking to a first-rate idiot. "First of all, I am not a man. Secondly, if you want a picture, that's fine. Just ask like a normal person."

He took a step closer to me and I instinctively backed away. He'd been hunching in his attempt to keep his jeans from falling to his ankles. But now that he was angry and less mindful of his pants situation, he was standing at his full height, and he was actually pretty tall. Like, maybe close to six feet. Jesus. __ I glanced around for Ben, but my friend was suddenly nowhere in sight.

The boy's gaze went to my boobs as he said, "Yeah, you ain't no man. You just some snobby D-list hoe that call herself an actress when she ain't bout nothing. I don't need no selfie with no snobby hoe."

He took a step towards me and even though I backed away again, I felt his breath hit my cheek.

"Dude, you need to back up," I said, hating the way my voice shook.

"Everything okay, Drew?" Ben's voice sounded at my right and I turned to him as he took my hand and positioned himself between me and the wannabe thug.

The boy looked Ben up and down and snorted. "Figures," he mumbled with a shake of his head. He then turned and walked away.

"Ready?" Ben asked, giving my hand a squeeze.

I nodded, still a little shaken up. We snaked our way through the crowds, my hand in Ben's, while I tried to process what had just happened.

"I can't believe he called me that," I whispered.

_Snobby_. First, Heath said it and now a complete stranger had said it... twice in one day.

"He's an idiot, Drew," Ben said. "I didn't hear what he said, but whatever it was couldn't have been true. Besides, he looked like he'd been, you know." Ben put his thumb and index finger to his lips, creating the international sign for weed.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." Sprinkles of rain fell on top of my head with increasing pressure and I looked up. "We should walk faster. It looks like it's going to pour any second."

"Yeah, let's make a run for it." Before I could say another word, Ben broke into a run, pulling me along. The scary run-in eased its way from my thoughts and my grimace morphed into what I was sure was a huge, ridorkulous smile because in that moment, while we weaved our way through the crowd, it finally dawned on me that _Benjamin Morris was holding my hand_.

Once we made our way to the middle of the parking lot, I slowed to a jog and Ben followed suit. I turned to him. "I have no idea where I parked."

Ben slid his hand out of mine and pointed ahead. "You're just there... fourth car from the last."

I spotted my little red car exactly where he directed. "Good eyes, my lover."

"Thanks, baby." Ben laughed.

I shielded my eyes from the rain and we made our way to the car. Out of breath, I unlocked it with my clicker and started for my door when Ben darted in front of me. He opened the driver's side door for me and waited expectantly.

I just stood there, watching him use one hand to cradle Laura and Tom's camera while he clutched the car door handle, holding it open for me with his other hand. Sheets of rain fell between us, and above our heads thunder rumbled. He was so perfect. How did I not notice this when we first met? Ben was freaking _perfect_. I was an idiot for not falling for him sooner!

"You okay?" Ben shouted above the roar of thunder.

I nodded and finally managed to lower myself into the driver's seat. Ben shut my door before running around to the passenger's side and I slid my seatbelt on, stealing peeks at him every five seconds. Once he'd settled in, we smiled at each other. His thick locks, flattened by the rain, were slicked against his head and his entire face glistened with water.

I watched him carefully set the couple's camera in the back seat before facing forward and exhaling. Wiping the water from his face with the back of his hand, he squinted. "Well, that was fun." His hazel eyes sparkled like gems and one drop of water clung to the very tip of his left earlobe.

In my mind's eye, I imagined leaning across the armrest and pressing my chest to Ben's. The damp of his shirt would seep through mine and with his heart pounding against mine, I'd bring my mouth to his. I'd taste the rain on his lips and kiss him until I owned him... afterwards, I'd watch him blush, and ever so gently, say, "No, Ben. _That_ was fun."

Ben snapped his fingers. I winced and blinked away the sexy fantasy. He chuckled. "Hey, you awake?"

The lone drop of water fell from his ear, landing on his shoulder. I nodded, started my car, and switched on the heater.

_You're being weird, Drew._

I put the car in drive and wove us in and out of haphazardly parked cars.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ben asked, his voice softening. "Did that guy scare you?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks to you," I replied.

_But I'd be even finer if I could kiss you._

While Ben reached up to strap on his seatbelt, I tried to think of something to say. But all I could think about was his mouth on mine.

I reached for the radio and froze when Ben covered my hand with his. "Hang on, can we talk for a second?"

I braked and we came to a screeching halt at the edge of Corner Mart's parking lot. I turned to him and tried to steady my breathing. "Yeah," I agreed, my skin warming under his touch. "Of course."

_Please, God, please don't let him move his hand, and then let him kiss me. Even if it's just once. Please._

Ben withdrew his hand, to my disappointment, and leaned back in his seat as he lowered his voice. "This might sound like it's coming from nowhere, but it isn't." He looked at me, his eyes asking a question that I hoped was the same question I had.

_Ermahgawd, I think Ben's going to ask me out!_

#

I pulled out of the parking lot and Ben cracked his knuckles for the billionth time.

A nervous gesture. I could relate. Asking him to go to Amelia's party with me had been more nerve-racking than an audition.

_I can only imagine how nervous he must be to ask me out._

I bit back my smile, waiting for him to say the words.

"My dad had emotional problems," Ben finally said.

Oh. __ I frowned and readjusted my expectations. __ Lightly biting down on my bottom lip, I listened as he went on.

"And when I was five, he had a really bad breakdown and he overdosed... on purpose."

"I'm so sorry, Ben."

"Yeah, it's okay. Well, it's not _okay_ , but it was a long time ago," he said, voice low. "Anyway, after he died, I remember thinking I wasn't supposed talk about him. No one told me I couldn't. I just assumed I wasn't supposed to talk about him or about how I felt. So I didn't. But the things I repressed came out in strange ways."

My eyes on the road ahead, I imagined Ben at five years old; a cute, dark-haired boy, big cheeks, pretty hazel eyes, sitting all alone at recess. My stomach twisted into knots and I took a deep breath, slowing as we approached a red light. Once we were stopped, I turned to Ben and was startled to find him watching me.

"I hate that that happened to you," I said. "And to your dad."

"Thank you." His gaze went to the charm hanging from my rearview mirror, a wood carving of the Chinese character for "star." My agent, Reed, gave it to me last summer while I was filming _I Already Knew_. He said the charm was appropriate because he was sure this film would be the beginning of my stardom.

"I'm telling you this because I want you to understand me and I want to understand you," Ben said.

Understand me? Didn't he already understand me?

"What do you mean?"

Ben glanced down. "You and me, we're not that different. You keep things to yourself because you want to look like you're in control."

"Isn't that what most people do?" My clipped tone, in perfect contrast to his gentle voice, sounded more challenging than I'd intended, so I smiled. "If we didn't, we'd all be walking around pissing our pants every second. Everybody puts on a front-" A car horn sounded and I startled.

Ben pointed to the light. "Green."

I stepped on the accelerator.

"I..." He paused and I wished I could look at him instead of the road. But I didn't want to kill us, so I kept my eyes ahead and waited for Ben to continue. A humongous silver Buick driven by a tiny old man pulled in front of me and I hit my brakes as the Buick decelerated to a solid five miles per hour.

_Nice._

Finally, Ben said, "Megs is pretty normal, right?"

I glanced at him before returning my attention to the car ahead. "Yeah."

"When you ask Megs how her day's going, what's she usually say?" he asked.

I slowed as the huge silver car came to an abrupt stop at least eighteen billion miles ahead of a looming yellow traffic light.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I never ask." I could feel Ben looking at me, so I turned to him.

"You never ask?" he repeated, arching one of his dark eyebrows.

"Nah. We usually talk about other stuff."

"Maybe you should ask her that sometime," he said. "But anyway, whenever I ask Megs how her day's going, she doesn't just say, 'good' or whatever, she actually starts a conversation about what's going on with her and how it's affecting her."

"Okay," I said, wondering what Ben's point was.

" _That's_ normal. But, when Megs asks me how I'm doing, I say fine and start talking about _Star Wars_." He rolled his eyes.

I smiled. "Ben, that's okay, everybody knows that's just the way yo-"

"Just the way I am. Yeah I know." He returned my grin, but there was something serious behind his smile. "It's because I made myself that way. Guess when my _Star Wars_ obsession started."

Our eyes met and a shiver ran down my spine.

"It's getting hot in here," I said, hating how high pitched my voice suddenly sounded. I leaned forward to turn off the heat. "Um, was it when your dad... passed?"

Ben nodded, his gaze on my hand. I looked down at my hand and Winnie's silver ring winked back at me.

"I used it to block out what I was feeling, because I didn't want to face the pain," he said. Behind me, several cars honked in unison and I glanced up to find the light green and the silver Buick not moving.

"At least you realize where your obsession came from. That's the first step to, um, to recovery, I guess," I replied as the Buick's brake lights gradually diminished. The old man took off with the gusto of a tired snail and I crawled behind him at about three miles per hour.

"Yeah. So, you know where _my_ obsession comes from," Ben said, a nervous edge to his voice. "What about yours?"

I glanced at him before returning my attention to the Buick's giant silver butt.

"I like _Star Wars_ , but I wouldn't call myself obsessed," I slowly replied. "I just go with the flow of your conversations and since you're always talking about movies, that's what we talk about."

"I know. I don't mean movies or _Star Wars_. I'm talking about your... your thing with... people, especially with, like, guys." He cleared his throat. "Most people like attention, but you _really_ like it. In a way that... well, it's like you're obsessed with getting attention but at the same time, you don't share your real self the way most people who want attention would."

I turned my windshield wipers off and then back on, simply for the sake of having something to do as I wondered how I was supposed to respond to any of that.

But Ben started to talk before I even had the chance to respond. "I'm not trying to offend you or, like, make you feel bad. I just want to understand you."

"Today, you went through something traumatic. A man pulled a gun on you and you haven't said anything about how you _feel_ ," Ben said. "If this were reversed and _I'd_ been through that, I would've tossed my man-card and admitted that I was scared out of mind and my life flashed before my eyes. This would be the one time I couldn't talk about _Star Wars_."

Now I was getting annoyed.

"Well, Ben, I'm sorry." I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw that the next lane was clear. Swerving out of the lane that the Buick was constipating, I gunned it before swerving back into the old man's lane and cutting him off. "I didn't realize we were on Dr. Phil and I needed to share my every thought. Should I start crying? Will that make you feel better?"

"Drew." Ben sighed. "That's not what I meant. I just want you to be honest with me."

"I'm always honest! I just..." Speeding through a yellow light, I said, "I'm not a needy person and I don't want to be. My mother's like that. She doesn't just need attention, she needs _everything_. I don't want to be like her."

This felt weird coming out of my mouth. I guessed because the words had been locked in my heart for so long and now all of a sudden there they were - floating around my car.

I wanted to see the look on Ben's face, but I also felt pretty awkward after having said all that. So, I watched the road and maintained a steady veneer of calm.

"'Needy' isn't a word I'd use to describe you," Ben said quietly. "But if you ever _felt_ needy, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. And I'd be here. You have me to listen whenever you want to talk. That'd be better than keeping it inside."

I nodded. "Well, thanks."

With the entrance to his neighborhood just ahead, we sat in comfortable silence as I braked and turned on my left signal.

"Speaking of your mom, what'd she say about what happened at Corner Mart?" he asked.

"Oh." The question caught me off guard and sighing, I peered into the lack of oncoming traffic before turning on to the main street of Ben's neighborhood. "I didn't tell her. She's on a plane headed out of the country and I don't want to bother her. She'd just get worried and then probably get high or drunk, if she isn't already. So, you know."

"She's out of the country." Ben spoke slowly, as if this piece of information had led him to an important conclusion.

"Yep." I glanced at him and he was frowning. I returned my attention to the road. "She's moving to a rehab clinic in Sweden. It's supposed to be really good."

"Sweden?"

"Yeah. She's staying for four months." I thought about the tears in Lenora's eyes as she'd tried to explain that she was doing this for __ our family and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd been duped yet again. Slowing to a stop, I turned on to Ben's street. "That's why I got called out of gym. She came to the principal's office to tell me she was leaving."

"Dude!" Ben laughed. "You're joking."

"No." I smiled, but my lips felt funny, like they knew they were fooling everyone. "My mother's crazy. Literally. She does things like that all the time. She'll promise not to get high and next thing you know, she's stripping __ on national television, moves you to Louisiana, then buys a one-way ticket to Sweden. And at that point, you realize you have two options. You can either become as emotionally needy as she is, or pretend you're strong until one day you actually are. So, I guess that's why I fake it. _Star Wars_ saved you, faking it saves me."

My impromptu monologue left me out of breath, so I inhaled, sucking in massive amounts of oxygen.

Ben didn't say a word and we drove in silence.

After all of _that_ , he probably wanted to bolt as fast as he could.

"Drew, you _are_ strong." His voice cut into the car's silence. "I don't think you're faking it."

I slowed as we approached his driveway. "You're just saying that because you feel bad about calling me an attention whore."

"I _did not_ call you that." He laughed and I grinned nervously. I pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. Ben turned to me, his light blue shirt was still damp and it clung to his skin in a few spots. "Seriously, Drew, you're strong." His tone was gentle and the fact that he said this while he was drenched in rain and looking at me with those beautiful hazel eyes was almost too much to bear.

I glanced down at my steering wheel and ran my palm across it, letting the ridges push into my skin. "Thank you." I curled my hand into a fist as a lone ray of sunlight, peeking out from behind the dark clouds, hit Winnie's silver ring and I, in turn, hit my fist against the steering wheel. "But I don't feel like it. At all."

After a moment of quiet, I looked up and Ben was still watching me, expectantly, waiting for me to continue.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure how other people can't see that I'm barely surviving. Like, I don't drink and I _will_ _never_ do drugs, but I just feel like no matter how hard I try _not_ to, I'm going to end up exactly like her." I laced my hands together, fists gone, lady-like hands clasped in my lap.

"Drew?" Ben said, his voice quiet.

I looked up to find his eyes as soft and shy as I felt.

Seeing _my_ feelings on _his_ face gave me a boost of courage and I relaxed a little. I smiled and shook my head. "You don't have to say anything comforting. I'm just rambling."

He returned my smile and lowered his gaze to the console, staring somewhere between the radio and air conditioning controls.

"Good," he said. "Because I guess a quote from _Star Wars_ wouldn't be all that comforting."

I chuckled and squeezed my palms together, briefly wondering what it would be like to run my hands through Ben's hair. It was still pretty wet.

"But I'm going to say it anyway," he said with a shrug.

I laughed. "Okay - wait, let me get more comfortable for this."

"Sure." He grinned while I pressed a button on the side of my seat to push the seat away from the steering wheel. I glanced up and our eyes met. I widened my smile and brought my legs onto my seat, repositioning myself to sit cross-legged and facing him.

"Better?" Ben asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes." I clasped my hands together, placing them in my lap. " _Star Wars_ wisdom please."

"You got it." He sat up straighter and then, looking sheepish, shook his head. "I can't believe I'm alone in a parked car with a girl and this is what I do... quote _Star Wars_."

"Some girls might find that attractive."

He grinned and didn't quite look at me as he took a deep breath. "Uh, there's this line that Yoda has. He says, 'In the end, cowards are those who follow the dark side.' And I think that's true. Like, bad decisions are usually disguised as 'easy decisions.' That's why cowards make bad decisions - they prefer the easy way out. Like, take that guy who tried to rob Corner Mart." Ben gestured as he spoke, waving his hand in the general direction of Corner Mart.

"Yeah?" I nodded. "Take that guy."

"He could've gotten a job and saved money. But that would take effort, work. To rob a store - that's easier, cowardly."

"I get it. Yeah, Yoda's right about that one," I agreed as a mental picture of the would-be thief falling to the ground filled my thoughts.

"Drew." The way Ben said my name took me out of my thoughts and straight into his eyes. Butterflies flitted through my stomach and all I wanted was for him to hurry up and finish his sentence so I could pin him to the window and kiss him.

Pushing my palms into one another, I tried to get a hold of my thoughts and focus on his words.

"...you're not a coward," he said, keeping his voice very even. "I don't know your mom and no offense to her, but it sounds like she takes the easy road on a lot of stuff. That's not who you are. You're strong. You'll be okay."

I wanted to cry. But I didn't. Instead, I placed both of my hands on top of the armrest that separated us, and leaned towards him.

His eyes widened, but only momentarily. In seconds, Ben wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. He closed his eyes, and before I could blink, his lips were on mine. His mouth, warm, damp, and insistent, shot a jolt clear through me.

Okay. So, I've made out with a lot actors for scripted scenes. And every now and then, I've had a moment with some random guy at an after-party, but none of that was real. The feeling of being kissed by someone who sincerely cared about me - _that_ was real and beyond __ amazing. In fact, kissing Ben made me realize that I actually knew very little about kissing. Benjamin Morris, on the other hand, somehow knew it all.

I brought my hands to his face and leaned out of our kiss, mostly because my heart was beating so fast I knew he could feel it, and I was a little embarrassed. Gliding my thumb across his right cheekbone, I struggled to catch my breath. And that was just a kiss. What else could he do?

Ben opened his eyes, took one look at me, and his expression turned to one of shock. I was instantly filled with regret. Ben was now looking back at me in utter **** bewilderment and that could only mean one thing... he'd only kissed me back out of sheer impulse, he didn't have real feelings for me.

Embarrassment crashed down on me like a weight and I started to apologize. "Um, I-"

Without a word, Ben pulled me closer and kissed me again.

_Oh..._

I ran my fingers through his hair and trembled while Ben sent my pulse into hyper drive. _Please don't ever stop kissing me, even if I have a heart attack, don't stop..._ But he stopped.

"Finally," he whispered, touching his forehead to mine.

"Finally?" I repeated, so out of it that my voice was as shaky as my hands.

He smelled like rain and fabric softener. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent.

"Yeah, I didn't think I'd ever get to kiss you," he said.

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "You like me?"

"You didn't notice?" Ben smiled. "We just _kissed_."

"Well, yeah, now I can tell." I grinned back at him, a streak of shyness running through me. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. "But I didn't notice before. Like, I'd spend hours in your room with you, just the two of us, _alone_ and you'd never... you know? I thought you didn't really see me as a girl."

"Didn't see you as a girl?" Sobering, Ben looked into my eyes and spoke haltingly. "Drew, you're... look at you. How could I _not_? You're, like, beautiful."

My cheeks warmed and I glanced down.

"I was careful with you because I didn't want you to think of me as just another guy trying to, uh, you know."

"Get in my pants?"

"Exactly. Uh, so, Drew?" Ben's voice softened and I looked up as he said, "So, are we keeping this casual, or... uh, did you maybe want to give us a try? Like, officially?"

"Are you asking me if I want to be your girlfriend?" I grinned and Ben, who seemed to be holding his breath, nodded. "Absolutely, I want to give us a try."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and traced his index finger along the edge of my bottom lip.

_His eyelashes are probably longer than mine,_ I noticed as he smiled and said, "Awesome."

"I've never had a boyfriend before," I confessed.

"I've never had a girlfriend before." Ben smiled. We were starting to do that staring thing again. I mostly just wanted to kiss him some more, but I wasn't sure if I should. So I tried to move back and give him a little space, but I couldn't. I was lodged between Ben and the car, my knees on either side of his hips.

"You know what? I can't move." I grinned, resting my hands on his shoulders. "What if we have to stay like this forever?"

He brought his mouth to mine in a kiss that sent a chill from my spine to the pit of my stomach. "Fine with me," he said, his eyes on mine.

I chuckled. "Of course it is, but what if-"

Apparently having discovered the best way to shut me up, Ben kissed me again and pulled me even closer. His kisses moved down my neck in a winding pattern as he'd lightly trace my skin with his finger and then plant a gentle kiss over the grazed skin. As simple as this was, it felt incredible. I arched my back and closed my eyes as a gasp left my lips. _This is amazing._ His touch skimmed past my collarbone and a hardened bulge poked the inside of my thigh. I immediately opened my eyes.

_Oh._

We were both fully clothed, but still, the fact that Ben had a major boner sounded a silent alarm in the back of my mind.

"Hey, Ben, wait," I whispered, as he kissed my collarbone.

He froze and looked up at me. "Too fast? Slow down?"

I smiled to cover my nerves. "Yeah, I like it, a lot actually, but-" His phone cut me off, vibrating against my left thigh. I tried to move my knee so he could get it out of his pocket, but I _really_ _was_ stuck.

"Hang on," Ben said, the warmth of his breath hitting my collarbone, which made me shiver again. He noticed and gave me a mischievous smile before returning his attention to my knee. "I think I can get you out. Here we go..." He slipped my left knee out of its prison and I eased backwards before falling back into the driver's seat with the grace of an equilibrium challenged baby giraffe.

"You okay?" he asked. I nodded. Clearing his throat, he answered his phone. "Hello?"

I sighed in contentment. I just _made out_ with Ben and now he was my boyfriend. Right then, you could have set me on fire and I'd still be ecstatic.

Running my palm over my hair and peeking at myself in the mirror, I checked to make sure my make up was still in semi-functional tact.

"Benjamin Morris, get in this house _now_!" Ben's mother screamed from his phone.

Yikes. Well at least now we knew his boner was definitely gone.

I glanced at the Morris's front door. Next to the door was a large window with white curtains and, peeking out from behind the curtains, was Ben's mother, holding her phone to her ear.

_She saw us..._

I turned to Ben. He was frowning as he hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. __ I held my breath. _Please don't let him regret kissing me._

I forced a nonchalant shrug. "You should go."

In one swift movement, he leaned across the seat and kissed me.

I opened my eyes to find him grinning at me. "See you tomorrow, baby."

I laughed. "Okay, embryo."

His phone vibrated against my thigh and Ben moved back to his side of the car. I, meanwhile, turned to steal a peek at the Morris's window. There stood his mother, her phone at her ear while she watched us, half-hidden by their curtains. Why didn't she come out of the house and deal with us face to face instead of calling Ben like some psychotic ex?

"I hope you're not in too much trouble." I turned back to Ben, who was looking at me, his eyes narrowed and a crooked smirk on his lips. I, now, recognized that look. He wanted to kiss me again. __ As chills ran all over me like crazy and my face burned with heat, _I_ felt like the geeky half of our duo. I sat up and grabbed the camera in the backseat. "Don't forget this."

Ben accepted it, letting his hand linger over mine. I looked down at his fingers while he gently ran his thumb across Winnie's ring. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I smiled, hoping I didn't look as shy as I felt.

He gave my hand a squeeze. "Can't wait to see you tomorrow." Clutching Laura and Tom's camera to his chest, Ben got out of the car and grinned at me before jogging up the driveway to his front door.

My lips, neck, and collarbone were still electrified from his touch and even my thoughts were a hot mess of lust. I couldn't wait to kiss him again. Grinning, I backed out of Ben's driveway and hoped his mother wouldn't completely destroy him.

#

How many other girls had Ben kissed?

The smell of waffles and fresh coffee drifted into my bathroom as I stared in my mirror. I blotted my lips and instantly decided two things: (A) Redlipcious was the perfect shade for my skin tone, and (B) I needed to stop obsessing about Ben's unexpected skills.

After figuring out how to wire my sister 30K, I'd been tired but a blend of lust and anxiety had kept me from getting much sleep.

As much as I'd loved kissing Ben, he'd totally thrown me off. I assumed the second I kissed him, I'd own him. But before I knew what was happening, _I_ was the one being owned! It was bizarre and... well, it was wonderful.

I closed my eyes and mentally relived the feeling Ben's hands on my body, his mouth on mine, warm and demanding and... oh my god, I was making myself horny. I opened my eyes, flipped up the switch above my makeup kit, and my bathroom fan came to life. I took a deep breath and let the cool air push me out of my fantasy.

Ben had the skills of a pro, meaning he must have kissed a lot of girls before me. I wondered how I compared to them. Frowning, I stared myself down in the mirror. __ Warm brown eyes, high cheekbones, a broad nose, and a generous mouth that had gone numb under Ben's.

I pushed my shoulders back and straightened my spine. __ I was pretty. But, more importantly, I was strong; too strong to be intimidated by Ben's history with other girls. Besides, it wasn't like I hadn't messed around with other guys.

Irritated with myself, I reached for my favorite perfume, and sprayed a tad on each wrist. But _who_ had Ben kissed? And did any of the girls go to our school?

I set my perfume down and tried to imagine Ben the way other girls saw him.

He was hot, but not Randall Hawke hot or even Heath Remington hot. Ben was the kind of guy you'd look at and think, "Aw, I bet he's sweet. Maybe I'll set him up with my best friend." His face typecast him as the adorbs cute, quiet guy, but not the overtly hot male lead. Ben wasn't supposed to kiss me like he did and leave me all horny and-

"Drew, did you make breakfast?" Mona's voice made me jump and my thoughts of Ben were, thankfully, shattered.

Mona was the live-in house attendant my mother had hired long before telling me about her plans to skip town and hop a plane to Sweden.

I plastered on a smile, turned off the fan, and threw open the bathroom door. The middle-aged woman with the adorable Cajun accent and rust-colored hair had a look of shock on her face as she repeated her question. "Did you make breakfast?"

Unable to contain my pride, I beamed. "Yes, and there are two extra blueberry waffles for you if you'd like them."

Her eyes widened even more. "How sweet of you, child. I didn't even know you knew how to cook."

I laughed. "It's one of my many hidden talents. But I save it for special occasions." _Like for the morning after a great make-out session..._ I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself from saying this.

Mona was super sweet. On her first night here, Lenora was high and had to be talked down from the oak tree in our front yard and then talked into putting on some clothes. (I don't know what it is with high people and the need to be nude.) In contrast with my unsuccessful attempts to get Mom out of the tree by yelling all kinds of threats, Mona's calm manner prevailed. In less than five minutes she was throwing a blanket over Mom's bare shoulders and leading her to the house. The next morning, Mona acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But I noticed that she was extra nice to me, even though I'd been horribly snappy with her.

My mother might have been a screw-up, but she did something right when she hired Mona.

"That's so thoughtful of you, Cher. You didn't have to do that," she softly replied.

"I wanted to." I turned back to the mirror and scanned my reflection. My off-the-shoulder cherry-red blouse and dark denim skinny jeans were perfect for the "simple but hot" look I'd been aiming for.

"And you look very pretty today. I can't believe you had time to make breakfast _and_ pouponer. You're like the superwoman."

Pouponer? That must have meant "get dressed up" in Cajun.

I glanced at Mona's reflection in my mirror and shook my head. "It wasn't that hard. And I like to cook, so no biggie."

"Well, they smell delicious. And considering everything you went through yesterday, you really shouldn't have. In fact, I'm surprised you don't need the day off to recover."

"I'm over it." I shrugged. "After everything went down, I hung out with a friend who took my mind off of it. So, just go try my waffles and tell me what you think, okay?" I topped this request with a scene-wrapping smile and returned my attention to my reflection.

"I just have to know, Drew." Mona shifted on her feet. "Did you see him?"

Her question caught me off-guard and I frowned. "Did I see who?"

Mona's eyebrows went up and she broke into a full-on smile that made her look at least ten years younger. "Oh, Drew, you _did_ see him! Lordy, I got the faiblesse!"

"Uh." Confused and wondering what the heck _faiblesse_ meant, I shook my head. "No, I-"

"I've heard stories, but you _have to_ tell me what he looks like! You've actually seen him!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands and all but jumping up and down.

Maybe "faiblesse" meant "crazy" because I was beginning to think Mona definitely had "the crazies."

"Mona." I shook my head. "I honestly have no idea who you're talking about."

She lost her smile and gave me a searching look. "You really don't? Drew, I'm talking about Unseen!"

All at once, I recalled the reporter asking me about "the South Louisiana Superman" and the weird little girl with the lisp asking me about "Unseen."

"Mona." I bit back a smile as I moved to the bathroom counter and picked up my favorite tube of mascara. Tossing it into my makeup bin, I glanced at the older woman. "You seriously think that I saw... Unseen?"

Her eyes lit up and, nearly breathless, she nodded.

A straight face was difficult to keep, but for the sake of Mona's feelings, keep one I did. I picked up an eye shadow duo, threw it into my makeup bin and watched Mona's reflection in my mirror as I reached for an eyelash curler. "I hate to disappoint you, but I didn't see Unseen in Corner Mart and, honestly, I don't even understand that whole myth. Like, why do people call him Unseen?"

She arched an eyebrow and stared me down. Under her scrutiny, _I_ felt like the crazy one.

"Maybe our 'myth' sounds odd to an outsider, but when you've lived here all your life..." She paused, took the eyelash curler out of my hand and set it in my makeup bin. "Here, let me clean this up for you, Cher. That's why your Momma pay me."

"Okay, sorry." I moved out of her way and leaned against my towel rack as I waited for her to answer my question.

"I was saying, when you've lived here all your life and you've heard stories of criminals being stopped before they could attack, of children being rescued from burning homes, literally carried out by someone unseen - this unseen person running through _fire_ , through _solid_ _walls_ , rescuing and then vanishing - you'd have to be crazy _not_ to believe it." Mona grabbed a paper towel and began wiping down the counter. "There's someone out there -someone who's not like us- and we don't know his name or what he looks like. That's why we call him Unseen."

Um. Right.

I wasn't sure how to react without offending her beliefs or... intelligence, so I nodded and avoided her eyes as I cleared my throat. "Well," I said, clasping my hands together while I inched away from the doorway. "Thanks for explaining that. It's getting late and I don't want to be late for school, so I'd better get going. Thanks again."

"Sure..." Her voice trailed off and, shrugging, she gave me an incredibly professional nod. "I'm looking forward to those waffles."

Crap. I offended her.

I put on my brightest grin, hoping to elicit one from her. "Yay! I hope you like them!" I exclaimed, painfully aware of how badly I was overdoing it.

She offered me a tight-lipped smile and returned her attention to cleaning up my messy bathroom. I, in turn, scampered down the hallway.

I couldn't believe people actually believed that crazy stuff. I couldn't wait to call Ben and tell him about it...

I DIDN'T CALL Ben.

After staring at my phone - while I was driving, which nearly caused an accident - and trying to decide if calling him when I knew I'd see him in less than ten minutes was "needy," I decided that yes, it was needy. Instead, I called my mother to check in on her. She'd answered, giggling, incoherent, and obviously high. So after that, I cried a little bit and sped the rest of the way to school in pissed-off mode.

The sky was, in fact, a perfect reflection of my mood. Fat, black rain clouds hovered over Swamp Rose. As I drove along, drizzles hit my window and I turned on my windshield wipers. I cursed the rain, cursed Lenora, and cursed my homesickness.

One good thing though, was that I pulled into South Louisiana High's parking lot a solid eight and a half minutes _before_ the first bell, which was a feat for me. I was typically at least thirty minutes late for school.

Using my thumb to wipe away any remnants of tears, I checked my reflection in the mirror and found that my makeup hadn't run too terribly.

Good.

Thunder sounded as I reached for my purse and grabbed my backpack. I glanced up at the steadily increasing drizzles and wished I'd thought to bring an umbrella.

I'd barely slammed my car door shut when the nearby tapping of heels against asphalt was followed by the sound of a high-pitched voice screeching, "Hey, Drew!"

I turned around and frowned at the petite blonde who, hands outstretched by her sides as if she wasn't jogging in heels, but balancing on a tightrope, ran up to me. I squinted against the raindrops, trying to remember where I'd seen her before.

"Hey," I replied.

The girl accidently stepped in a puddle and made a mouse-on-helium-like squeaking noise that I couldn't help but smile at. She was kind of adorable.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and despite the fact that her cute heels were now drenched, she grinned at me like we were contestants in a beauty pageant.

Perfect hair, cute clothes, super pretty...I bet she was a cheerleader.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks," I said and, adjusting my backpack to a more comfortable position on my shoulders, headed for the front entrance to the school. "Why?"

"Because of yesterday. That was terrible, but you were so brave. I mean, that was, like, amazing. You are _such_ a hero," she gushed.

Oh.

One of the many knots that, from the second I'd realized Lenora was _already_ relapsing, had immersed my stomach in waves of pain, disintegrated and I relaxed.

"Thanks, I'm just glad everyone's okay." I shrugged and Perky Cheerleader nodded her agreement.

"Yeah, it could've been so bad."

"I'm sorry," I finally confessed. "I know I've seen you around, but I can't remember your name."

She laughed, which took me by surprise, and tossed her damp hair over her shoulder. "I'm Meagan. And that's okay, we haven't technically met yet, otherwise I'd _so_ remember! You're, like a movie star, oh my god! But maybe you recognize me from the dance or cheerleading teams. It's totally not a big deal, but I'm a cheerleader or whatever."

I bit back a grin and nodded. When she said this, I _did_ recall overhearing her argue with Mia and Kyle about whether or not Manchester was in London. I couldn't remember who'd insisted that it was.

"Now I remember you," I said with a smile. "You're friends with Mia and Kyle."

"Yeah, I guess." She made a face and shrugged. "They're seniors, so you know how that is."

Actually, I didn't. "What do you mean?" I asked as we walked along.

"They'll hang, but since they're going to be gone in a year, they're not super focused on forging friendships with underclassman. That's like a skydiver popping an anxiolytic moments before she jumps. You know what I mean?"

I took a second look at Meagan and reassessed my initial perception of her. She probably **** wasn't the one claiming that Manchester was in London.

Meagan shot me that bright smile of hers. "Get it? Anxiolytics reduce anxiety, but they make you sleepy, which is dangerous if you're skydiving."

"Yeah, I got it," I quietly replied as we started up the steps to SLH's front doors. Thanks to Lenora, I knew a lot about prescription drugs.

"Drew!" someone said and the next thing I knew, a hand was on my arm.

Wincing, I turned around and an unfamiliar kid who held a large umbrella over his head was grinning at me. "I saw you on the news! That was awesome!"

Before I could say a word, he clapped my shoulder and ran off through the school's front doors. I glanced at Meagan and she gave me a knowing smile. "Be prepared. That's going to happen a lot today."

#

Meagan was right. I hadn't felt so noticed since I'd moved to Swamp Rose. The adoration was almost as nice as Ben's kisses... almost.

On my way to first hour at least ten people stopped me in the halls and asked for a selfie.

"Well, I'd better get to my first class," I said, grinning at the freshman whose name I couldn't remember. "But I'll see you around."

He smiled, his face turning red while he put his phone away and scurried off.

The other girl, whose name I also couldn't remember, laughed and said, "I bet you've never posed for so many pics. Later, Drew!"

"Oh, you'd be surprised." I smiled. Actually, she was right. I hadn't. But no one here needed to know that. I waved and glanced ahead to the opened door of my first-hour class. I took a deep breath and promptly gagged on our school's disgusting acidic smell. _So gross... if that_ ** _is_** _a mold problem, they really need to get rid of it. Otherwise, we're all going to die._

"Drew, wait up!" a familiar voice called from behind me.

I cringed.

I turned around to face Andrea Moretti, our school's most annoying freshman. "What Andy?"

Andy was short, sporting some kind of Italian fro, demanding, and scary-intense. To be honest, she kind of reminded me of Amelia Hearth. Ever since I'd started at SLH, Andy had been pestering me about doing an interview on her YouTube channel.

Out of breath and carrying a half a dozen books in her hands, Andy said, "I know I keep asking you this, but really, Drew. Considering what happened at Corner Mart, I've _got to_ interview you for my YouTube channel."

Andy was like an annoying mosquito, but I was in generous mood. "Fine, Andy. But I need to go to class now, so can we talk later?"

"Okay, but wait, just one quick question for now: did you see Unseen?"

I sighed. "I don't have time for this." With that, I headed for my classroom. But being that Andy Moretti was beyond persistent, she followed me.

"You did, didn't you?" she insisted. "That's why you don't want to talk about it."

These Swamp Rose people were, for real, insane.

"No, I didn't see Unseen," I snapped. "Or the Loch Ness monster, or Tupac, or Elvis, or The Honey Island Swamp Creature. Now, leave me alone." Annoyed, I headed for Ms. Karin's History of Theater class.

"Fine, okay," Andy called after me. "We'll touch base later!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, wait!" a familiar male voice called.

I grinned and turned around, pleased to see Randall Hawke jogging my way. __ I may have been dating Ben, but I wasn't blind.

Ran wore a red and navy flannel shirt over stonewashed jeans. Very simple, kind of country even, but between his tan and killer bod, Ran's plain outfit belonged in its own special category of sexy.

We headed towards each other and my smile faded as he jogged right past me. But he called over his shoulder. "Oh, hey Drew! Saw you on the news."

"Yeah..." I let my voice trail off. He was so distracted by whatever was ahead, he wouldn't have heard a word I'd said. _What's got his attention?_

Oh. _Her._ I watched him come to a halt in front of a petite, olive-skinned girl with big eyes and dark brown hair. Lanie Russell. Lanie had starred in a school play last month. Some people claimed she was the best actress in school. She was decent, but I definitely wouldn't call her "the best."

Folding my arms, I narrowed my eyes as Ran slung his arm around her shoulders. She lit up and started talking, quite animatedly, about something I couldn't hear. They laughed and jokingly talked over one other like two perfectly matched peas in a pod. Throughout their interaction, Ran's arm stayed on Lanie's shoulder and his gaze remained on _her_.

_He likes Lanie,_ I realized, recalling the way he'd sheepishly apologized on Mia's behalf.

The bell rang.

Ran had a huge crush on Lanie, but he was dating _Mia_. Why didn't he just go out with Lanie?

I stood in the hall, watching them. A small group of girls walked past me, bits of their whispered conversation drifting my way.

"...and she's white! Like, why does a white woman need to be a housekeeper? Not to be racist, but why doesn't she have a better job? You know? Oh my God, do I sound racist?"

"No! I totally think the same thing when I see a housekeeper who isn't, like, black or Mexican..."

Horrified by what I'd heard, I glared at the girls as they walked away. In the distance, Lanie and Ran laughed loudly, deep in their own conversation. I looked at the two of them... and that's when it hit me. That's when I suddenly remembered the rules comprising the society to which I now belonged. In a place like Swamp Rose, I couldn't find a hair stylist who would take me, and when I hung out with Ben in a public place, we got strange looks. There was only one explanation for both of those issues...and it might have been the same reason why Ran was choosing to date Mia over Lanie.

My heart sank as I watched the two of them walk away... _I bet the reason he won't date Lanie is because she's black. Well, technically, I think she's creole, but around here that's still considered "Black."_

I shook my head at this thought and looked around at the now deserted hallway. Maybe I was reaching. After all, Swamp Rose may be home to a few racists, but I knew for a fact that Randall Hawke wasn't one of them. So, maybe there was some other reason why he didn't want to date Lanie. Maybe he liked Lanie, but he was more in love with Mia.

I rolled my eyes at myself and headed to class. I couldn't believe I was being so sensitive about this "race" crap-

Running footsteps came out of nowhere, cutting into my thoughts. I turned around at the sound of them and gasped as Ms. Karin ran right into me, accidently pushing me into the nearby lockers with surprising force. She skidded and nearly fell, her purse and something in her hand clattering to the ground as the contents of her handbag scattered across the hallway.

Geez.

I hoisted myself up from the lockers, while Ms. Karin regained her balance. "Drew! I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you!"

"It's okay." I rubbed my shoulder, then stooped to help her retrieve her fallen things. "I didn't hear you behind me until you were right there. I'm sorry too."

"What a way to start a morning, right?" She grinned and crouched to pick up her purse.

I returned her smile and picked up her a wallet, tossing it her way. "Heads up, Ms. Karin."

She caught it. "Thanks. It's pretty light, isn't it?"

I offered a polite chuckle before grabbing her keys, phone, and then pausing to examine a small, funny-looking tubular device. _What is this?_

Ms. Karin whisked all three items from my hand. She smiled and waved the black object back and forth before dropping it into her purse. "Get enough flats and you'll know never to leave home without your trusty tire gauge."

"Oh, I didn't know what that was," I replied, scanning the floor to make sure there was nothing else to pick up. "I think we got everything. Except the kitchen sink - you didn't have that in your purse, did you?"

She grinned at my cheesy joke and we got to our feet. "Again, I'm so sorry. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going," she said as she smoothed down her heinous crime of a pinstriped brown skirt.

"It's no big deal."

"All right, let's get to class, Drew." I followed her into the drama classroom and tried to adjust to the room's bright lights. The lighting in my homeroom was a huge difference from SLH's dark hallways and it always took a moment for my eyes to adjust.

Blinking, I took a deep breath.

One of the things I _loved_ about Ms. Karin's classroom was that she kept it smelling like Louisiana Alyssum. On my very first day, I'd noticed the pleasant aroma and asked her if it was a perfume. She said it was the scent of a plant called Louisiana Alyssum. I'd never heard of it before, but it sure made up for the disgusting acidic smell that was so strong in SLH's hallways.

While Ms. Karin continued to her desk, I slid into the nearest available seat in the back of the class and took off my backpack, setting it down beside me. I glanced up and Heath Remington, comfortably seated in the desk to my left, was checking me out.

Whatever. I bet even he couldn't kiss like Ben.

Determined to ignore Heath, I unzipped my book bag and took out my notebook.

"Hey," Heath whispered, his voice just above the buzz of the other whispered conversations filling our classroom. "I have a question."

Despite myself, I looked up and his blue eyes were fixed on mine. "What?"

"How fast are your rides?" he asked, smirking.

"Drew World is closed, especially to you." I shot him an icy smile.

"You forgot. I have a day pass." He leaned towards me. "And just so you know, I like my rides slow."

I chose not to reply and simply turned to the front of the classroom, wishing Ms. Karin would hurry up and begin her lecture.

Flirting with Heath was an adrenaline rush, but it never felt quite right. And it seemed especially wrong now that Ben was my official boyfriend.

"What about you? You like it __ fast or slow?" Heath's question was loud enough for the students around us to hear and when several of my classmates glanced back at us, my face burned with embarrassment.

"Shut up, Heath," I hissed before glancing at a girl who'd turned to look from me to Heath. She frowned as she returned to a whispered conversation with her friends.

Great. Now everyone was going to think I was a giant slut.

"Sorry, it's just hard to concentrate when I'm sitting next to you," he whispered. "And I saw you on the news yesterday. You did great. I would've been nervous in front of all those cameras and everything."

"I'm used to cameras," I mumbled.

"How long did it take you to get used to them?" he asked. "The cameras, I mean. You're so good in movies. It's like the cameras aren't even there."

"Yeah, it's called _acting_ ," I retorted, glancing at him. "Actors are trained to forget about their audience in order to connect with them."

"That's awesome," he quickly said.

Until I'd met Ben, I'd been under the impression that when you were talking to a guy about one of your interests and he quickly said, "That's awesome," this was an indication of said guy's desire to get to third base as quickly as possible. I turned to Heath and found his gaze aimed at my boobs, thus restoring my belief in my theory.

I snorted. "Is it? What makes it awesome?"

He grinned and rested his chin in the palm of his right hand. I glanced at Heath's pronounced bicep. He looked like he could lift a house or something. It was a little freaky. Sexy, but freaky...

"You do," he said.

"Good answer." I allowed myself a smile.

"Honest answer." He winked and then turned back to the front of the class. I, meanwhile, couldn't help but steal another peek at that bicep.

Pure physical attraction wasn't real, I reminded myself. The way I liked Ben was real. The girl in front of me had curly brown hair, into which I stared as I tried to make sense of my feelings. If Ben wasn't such a great kisser, I'd _still_ be attracted to him. I liked him for his entirety. With Heath, it was different. Yeah, I felt something - but it was purely physical and really, it wasn't even physical because all we were doing was flirting. There was nothing wrong with flirting. It was basically just talking.

"All right class! Let's quiet down please," Ms. Karin said, making her way to the front of the classroom. "We're going to start by taking attendance, so when I call your name, give me a shout. I know this a novel thing for a teacher to do and it may strike you as 'odd.' But that's how I roll."

The class chuckled and I turned to Heath.

"To answer your question, _slow_ ," I whispered. Heath's eyes widened and with this, I turned away from him.

I grinned to myself. _I wonder what he's going to say to that._

Keeping my attention fixed on Ms. Karin, I listened to her call roll as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"... Drew Everett?" Ms. Karin called.

"Here," I replied and, looking down at Winnie's silver ring, I traced its edges with my pinky. Maybe I shouldn't have said that to Heath... no, it was fine. There was no need to feel guilty. I was an actor. We had to be nice to our fans and sometimes being nice meant flirting a little.

Ms. Karin continued to call roll while a million thoughts ran through my mind and Heath, to my surprise, said not another word to me.

When Ms. Karin started teaching, I forced myself to pay attention.

"So, today we're going to discuss something called Neoclassicism... anyone ever heard that crazy word before?" Ms. Karin asked.

I started to raise my hand when my phone, which was in my purse, vibrated. Ms. Karin wasn't looking in my direction, so I discreetly checked my phone, hoping for a message from Ben. But the text was from my sister, Clara.

_Oh God, I hoped she got the money._ I'd been up forever trying to figure out how to wire it online. Cringing, I opened her message and read: **Meet me at the New Orleans airport, 11 AM - New Age Flights.**

Meet her at the freaking New Orleans airport? Was she crazy?

Annoyed, I replied: **I have school until 3:30 and New Orleans is an hour away. I'll send Mona for you.**

My phone vibrated again and Heath turned to look at me. "That's not your boyfriend, is it?" he whispered.

I ignored him and opened Clara's message. **No. YOU come get me.**

Grinding my teeth, I glanced up and looked at Ms. Karin while she lectured, but I didn't hear a word she said. All I knew was that I was beyond annoyed and worried. What if she was in some kind of trouble and that was why she wanted me there?

I grabbed my phone and replied: **Are you okay?**

"... so, when Cardinal Richelieu was charged by Louis XIII to build theaters based on Italian stage design..." Ms. Karin's voice faded into the background of my thoughts while my phone buzzed. I hurriedly read my sister's reply.

**Just come please.**

Running my fingers across Winnie's silver ring, my thoughts darted back to what my dance teacher had said as she'd handed me the ring, "... you're the brightest star I've ever met. One day, people will look to you for reassurance."

Maybe Clara needed the reassurance of a familiar face; someone who understood what it was like to be Lenora Everett's kid. __ With this, I picked up my phone and replied: **I'll be there.**

THE BELL RANG and as always, no one moved. Ms. Karin was my only teacher who had this effect on her students; we never wanted to leave her class.

"All right, you little hooligans, run free." She waved us off and our classroom gradually filled with the sounds of shuffling papers and feet. I hoisted my book bag onto my shoulders, grabbed my purse, and followed the herd into the hallway as I whipped out my phone, deciding I'd better call Clara and get more information.

Just as I was poised to hit call, someone slid an arm around my waist, pulled me backwards, and my phone was snatched away.

"Let's see." Heath's voice was loud in my ear and I looked down at his hand, which he slid down my thigh. I admit, the sensation wasn't horrible, but I was annoyed.

"Moron," I hissed, picking up his hand and moving it off my thigh.

I turned around to find him scrolling through my phone as he said, "You don't have my number. Let's fix that."

"Sure, why not?" I deadpanned. "Feel me up, steal my phone, do whatever you want."

Heath's eyebrows went up and he turned to me. "Really?"

He couldn't possibly be that dumb.

I glanced at the students streaming out of Ms. Karin's class, all of them looking at us like we were wearing large signs that said, "Please stop and stare at us with frightening intensity!"

I turned to yell at Heath, but his hair was all mussed, his biceps were doing their "Look at how big we are" thing, and those gorgeous eyes of his were focused on my phone as he gripped it. I hesitated. God he was hot. I shook my head, annoyed with myself. What was I thinking? I liked Ben, not this braindead musclehead.

"Give me my phone, Heath."

"But you said I could do whatever I want." He tossed my phone high in the air and then caught it.

"You're going to break it! Stop!" I lunged for him and he laughed as he darted just out of reach.

Ugh.

Strutting past me, Heath looked down at my phone and typed something as he called over his shoulder, "Come and get it, Drew."

Annoyed, I repositioned my purse on my shoulder and followed Heath through the crowds of students.

He's so huge. My gaze swept his athletic build. He wasn't all that tall, only a few inches past me, but everything about him was muscular. At this, I realized that I'd come to a complete stop and was standing in the hallway staring at Heath Remington's butt. I forced myself out of my trance and hurried to catch up with him. Once I was beside him, I reached for my phone but he held it above my head, grinning.

"Give it." Despite myself, I smiled, which was incredibly irritating. If he were ugly, this would so not be a problem.

"Let me use my day pass." He returned my stupid smile and leaned towards me. "You want your phone. I want you. So, let's make a deal."

I stared back at him and gulped as my gaze went to his lips.

"Heath! You back at practice this week?" a voice called, snapping me out of my trance. Momentarily distracted, Heath glanced over his shoulder. I seized the opportunity and snatched my phone from him. With this, I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs.

I grabbed the banister and followed the crowd up, intermittently saying hi to kids who recognized me from the news. _Don't look behind you. It doesn't matter if he followed you... you don't want him to follow you, do you?_ This was basically my silent mantra throughout the entirety of my trek to the second floor.

Sighing in relief when I made it, I headed for my locker and froze when Heath materialized beside me.

"You have a class up here too?" he asked.

I tried not to smile as I pointed to the row of lockers I was headed for. "No. My locker's over there and, you know, it's a terrible idea to tell someone who's _not_ your girlfriend you 'want' them."

"I'm just being honest." He shrugged, grinning. "I'd have to be blind not to want you." Refusing to look at him, I kept my eyes straight ahead to watch where we were going. "And even if I was, if you like, bumped into me and I felt, you know... _you_ , I'd still want you. Even though I was blind."

I stopped walking and turned to him. "Dude, why are you following me?"

His full lips turned up into a smile, but his hands were unsteady, like he wasn't sure what to do with them.

"Because I like you." He shrugged.

Slowly turning away from him, I took a step forward and ignored the vibrating phone in my hand. He really liked me. This thought pleased me, probably much like Lenora was pleased after a few pills.

"But..." I hesitated. "But, your girlfriend-"

"We're on a break," Heath interrupted. In my peripheral vision, I saw him scratch his head. I opened my mouth to say something, but he touched my arm and said, "And I just like you, Drew. That's how I feel and I think you like me too."

I paused mid-stride and so did Heath.

"Heath, I'm flattered. But, __ I have a boyfriend who I really like. Sorry."

The jock blinked in surprise and then frowned. "You do? Who?"

_Jesus. Please don't tell me this is going to turn into some cheesy high school script where he tries to beat Ben up._

"Just go to class," I said with a sigh.

But of course, Heath didn't do as told. Instead, he watched me very closely and said, "I see the way you stare at me."

He had a point. __ Avoiding his eyes, I squinted and stammered, "That's, um, that's just physical attraction. But, just because I'm not completely repulsed by your body-"

Apparently, this sealed the deal for Heath. Before I knew it, his hand was at my waist, guiding me backwards.

My backpack made contact with the row of lockers behind me and a zing shot from the pit of my stomach to my most southern regions. And I'm not talking about my feet.

The students walking behind Heath became a blur and my heartbeat pounded in my ears while he leaned towards me, his warm breath skimming my cheek.

"I knew it," he whispered.

_What about Ben?_ my thoughts screeched. Though loud, my inner musings were no match for the sensation of Heath's hand moving up and under my shirt. I shivered at his touch, closed my eyes and pushed my mouth into his as he skimmed his hand up my abs and to the silky material of my bra.

I wasn't even thinking. It was like my body was doing stuff without permission, which is actually the same thing that happens when I'm acting. The character I become sort of takes over, making me do and think things _I_ would never do or think. It's hard to explain, even to myself.

Heath's every touch sent electricity through me. It was acceptance and exhilaration rolled into a volt, a language my body understood. I ran my fingers through his hair, lost all sense of where I was and pushed my tongue deeper into his mouth.

"Hey! _Hey_! Heath Remington, cut that out," an authoritative voice shouted. "Get off her or I'm writing you up!"

Heath, tearing himself out of my arms... and mouth, left me breathless and staring directly into the eyes of a disgusted teacher. Still catching my breath, I realized that the teacher wasn't the only person staring at us. Every passing student slowed to gawk, like cars on an interstate, braking to take in the sight of a horrific accident.

"Skanky much?" someone whispered, their remark followed by a slew of giggles.

I moved away from the lockers and straightened my shirt.

That was so stupid. Why did I do that? And in the middle of the freaking hallway? Everyone saw, and what if one of these bystanders told Ben? How would I explain this?

And that was when I saw him.

I froze, my stomach turning, as I locked eyes with Ben.

#

The teacher yelled at Heath while Heath yelled after me. "Drew, wait!" he shouted, grabbing my arm.

I pushed him away and headed for Ben.

But Ben was suddenly nowhere in sight. I scanned the area again, searching for him among the passing students. Finally spotting him near the stairs, I shouted, "Ben," and took off after him.

"Ben, wait, please!"

He stopped walking but didn't turn around.

An apology poured out of me. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." He turned around to face me and I abruptly stopped speaking.

His eyes were narrowed and full of anger. "That's not true. You were thinking," Ben said, his voice low and both of his fists clenched. "You weren't brain dead. _You_ kissed _him_. I saw you."

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." I faltered, realizing I didn't know what else to say. What could I say? Ben shook his head and turned around, but I grabbed his backpack, stopping him. "Please, wait." I made myself look into his angry eyes as I said, "I don't know why I did that, but it was the stupidest thing I've ever done because I like _you_." My eyes filled, distorting Ben into a blur.

"You like me," Ben repeated, his tone dry.

"Yes." Wiping my eyes, I stammered, "And I - I'm sorry. I'm so stupid."

"We both are," he said.

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "No, you're not, you-"

"I'm stupid because I trusted you," he interrupted, the palpable hate in his eyes startling me. His upper lip curled and a scowl on his brow, he looked at me with so much disgust that simply seeing his expression physically hurt me. Fresh tears sprang into my eyes.

"I shouldn't have trusted you," he said. "Obviously, you're just like your mom."

His words slammed into me like knives, twisting and turning beneath my skin.

"No..." My voice was a pathetic whisper that trailed off before retreating. What could I have said? He was right. I did exactly what Lenora Everett would have done. I'd hadn't been Ben's girlfriend for a full twenty-four hours before running off and sticking my tongue down some other guy's throat.

Ben turned away from me and headed to the stairs.

I wiped my eyes, staring after him while the tardy bell rang.

I ruined it. I was such an idiot. What was _wrong_ with me?

I trudged to my locker, where my phone began to vibrate, jarring me. __ I brought the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I said in a voice that didn't sound like my own.

"Ms. Everett? This is Captain Marvin Robinson, head of Security at...." The man's voice was loud in my ear, but with tears streaming down my cheeks and Ben's angry words still ringing in my ears, I didn't hear him. All I could do was replay what had just happened - the way I'd kissed Heath, the look on Ben's face... I really hurt him. My heart sank and a sob escaped.

"Ms. Everett, are you still there?"

Finding my voice, I squeaked, "Yes."

"So, as I said, we're not sure how much your daughter's taken, but in her condition, she's become a disturbance. Clara's going to be detained in airport security and brought to a local jail if this isn't resolved immediately."

_Wait, what?_

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and found my voice. "What's wrong with Clara?"

"She appears to be on drugs. And she caused a disturbance on her flight."

_Drugs_? My blood ran cold.

I readjusted my purse on my shoulder and headed for the school's exit doors as I said, "Just tell me what I need to do to get her out."

AS I HURRIED past the school nurse's office, I could feel my sadness turning into anger. At least I wasn't high! Clara grew up in a home with an addict. She knew what addiction did, so why would she do this to herself? To _me_?

My heart pounding, I hurried past the teacher's lounge. Behind me, a door creaked open and Ms. Karin's voice echoed across the hallway. "Drew? Hang on a second."

I slowed down and turned to her, calling over my shoulder, "Sorry, Ms. Karin, now's not a good time."

She tilted her head and her eyes softened in sympathy, but I didn't have time for a pity party, so I resumed my hike to the school's exit.

To my surprise, she caught up with me and walked beside me. "Where are you going?"

"Well, it's third hour, so wouldn't it be likely that I'm going to my third hour?"

"Knowing you, no. It definitely is not likely. Where are you going, Drew?"

"Um..." I hesitated as Ms. Karin folded her arms and gave me a knowing look.

"You're headed for the exit doors and I'd like to know why," she insisted. "I'm not going to get you in trouble. Just tell me what's going on. I might be able to help."

I paused. "That's nice of you, but unless you have connections at airport security, I'm pretty sure you won't be able to help."

"'What happened at the airport?" she asked.

"My sister..." My voice cracked and I took a second to get a handle on my emotions. "She was on a flight here, to be with me, and apparently she took too much of... something and whatever it was made her a disturbance to the other passengers. So now they've got her detained at the New Orleans airport." I looked up, but couldn't quite meet Ms. Karin's eyes, so I stared at a set of lockers as I waited for her to say something sympathetic.

"They're not going to release her to a minor. Why don't I come with you and help you get her out of there?"

My breath caught in my throat as I finally looked at Ms. Karin. "But what about-"

"My classes?" She shook her head. "I'm done for the day. Meaning I have no reason not to help you."

Seriously? I frowned at her. _A teacher_ was going to help me ditch school and bust my sister out of airport jail? What kind of school was this?

"And don't you, for a second, think this is me helping you skip school. This is me trying to prove to you that some adults _do_ have your best interest at heart," Ms. Karin said, her eyes meeting mine. "Besides, it's dangerous for you drive by yourself in this weather. The news says it's going to get even worse this afternoon." She watched me closely and I nodded.

"Okay, thanks."

She smiled. "Great, I'll just get my keys-"

An image of Ms. Karin's ratty old car flashed through my mind along with the recollection of her joke about how often she'd had to change an unexpected flat tire and I cringed.

"Let's take my car. It's probably more comfortable and you can even drive it if you want," I offered, hoping I didn't sound condescending.

She smiled knowingly. "Sure. Let me grab my purse from the teacher's lounge."

I glanced at the teacher's lounge and admitted, "I'm glad you happened to walk through that door when you did."

Ms. Karin lowered her gaze to the floor and, her eyes averted, she spoke quietly, "Yeah, it was a fortunate coincidence."

Her sudden bashfulness was odd, but I brushed it off. After all, who was I to call someone out for odd behavior? I'd just made out with a guy I didn't like, in front of the boy I _did_ like. I readied my car keys. "I just hope my sister didn't get herself in too much trouble."

#

Airports are great. I love the buzz of conversation and the smacks of kisses as acquaintances greet and part ways. Airports are like these giant stages where hundreds of stories play out all at once. Every story is brief, but meaningful; its actors show up for one pivotal scene, the moment in which the main character embarks on a new journey. So, if you stand still and just sort of watch what's happening around you, an airport becomes an exciting place to be.

But, that was definitely _not_ what I was doing at the New Orleans airport. In fact, as Ms. Karin and I faced the stout, no-necked security officer who stood behind the stark white counter positioned just below a sign that said, "Airport Security," I lost some of my love for the American airport.

"What do you mean, you need proof of my relationship to Clara. _She's my sister_ ," I snapped. "Don't you know who I am?"

One of the officer's bushy eyebrows shot up as he said, "I'll know once you show me some ID."

"She's an actress," Ms. Karin cheerfully pointed out.

While the officer nodded at Ms. Karin, I begrudgingly opened my purse to recover the license which would reveal the fact that I was a minor and, therefore, had no right to bail my sister out.

"Figures," the officer mumbled.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I demanded as I closed my purse and looked the incredibly rude man in the eye. "If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you be upset? I have to drive from Swamp Rose all the way to New Orleans to pick my sister up, only to find out that I can't because I don't have the right kind of ID!"

"If you drove here," the officer blandly replied, "then you ought to have a license, which is the correct form of identification, which, if you _are_ in fact related to the detained young lady, will allow her to be released to you."

"Fine!" I exclaimed, retrieving my wallet and pulling out my license. Just as I lifted my hand in the air, ready to slam the license down on the counter, Ms. Karin grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.

"Drew," she quietly said. "Have a seat and let me handle this."

I wasn't sure what to do. But I was sure that if I didn't decide quickly, my wrist was going to be bruised care of Ms. Karin's death grip. She lightened her clutch and whispered, "Why don't you go sit down and cool off?"

Her quiet confidence, punctuated by a steely strength in her dark eyes, made me think of Ben saying that he could see Ms. Karin as a Leia. Without a word, I lowered my arm and headed to the nearby waiting area.

The chairs, all twelve of them an identical dark blue, were haphazardly situated and only one other person occupied the waiting area, a cute guy who looked to be about Clara's age. I glanced at him as I sat down; he wore a dark blue shirt and jeans, his skin a pretty dark brown color. He looked up at me and smiled.

Nice smile. Actually, nice lips... I wondered what he'd do if I randomly asked him to kiss me. Would he? I shook my head. Why was I thinking this? I didn't want to kiss this guy. I didn't even know him.

"How are you?" he asked with a friendly nod.

Confused by my thoughts, I looked down at my purse and opened it, pretending to busily search for something. "Good, thanks. You?"

"I'll be better once they let my sister out. They're making a big deal about one of her prescriptions. This happened before. In Orlando, when we..." The guy was extremely talkative, which made it easy for me to tune him out and focus on my own musings.

Maybe I had a hormone problem. Maybe that was why I had the urge to kiss every member of the male species I crossed paths with... or maybe I was just a huge whore.

Ben was right. I was my mother's daughter and so was Clara. We were born to fail. My failure wasn't drugs or alcohol, it was that I was addicted to men.

"...you won't believe who else is back there. I saw her come in," the guy said.

Returning to the present, I narrowed my eyes at him.

At least Clara has had some success in her life; people actually recognize her. Sure, her success was merely the consequence of the one good thing about our mother's genes. But it was one thing she had going for her. I didn't even have that. The few people who recognized me thought I was a "snobby D-list ho who calls herself an actress when she ain't bout nothing."

My mood steadily taking more and more of a nosedive, I watched the man grin and wiggle his eyebrows as he asked, "Ever heard of Clara Everett?"

"Who's she?" I deadpanned.

Oblivious to my sarcasm, he laughed and clasped his hands together, his eyes sparkling with delight. "She's a supermodel. World famous, and at the moment, higher than the moon. I've never seen anyone _that_ stoned..."

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I looked down at Winnie's silver ring, pointedly ignoring the rest of the cute guy's rant.

There had to be a reason why Winnie believed in me, a reason why _she_ didn't think I was a failure.

I glanced at the security counter where Ms. Karin was now speaking to several officers. They were frowning, looking at each other and then at her. No one spoke except for Ms. Karin.

What was she telling them?

One of the officers, his jaw clenched, nodded and pretty soon all three of them were bobble heads, nodding repeatedly before one of them broke away, scurrying to a back room.

I watched Ms. Karin point up and, letting my eyes follow the direction of her finger, my gaze landed on a small camera just above the security counter. She dropped her hand and though I'm not an expert lip-reader, I definitely saw Officer No Neck say, "Right away," with a meek nod before hurrying to the back room.

What the heck? Did Ms. Karin bribe those guys? If so - _how_? How could a teacher who drove a crap car come up with enough money to bribe an airport security officer?

"...so what about you? Who are you waiting on?" the cute guy asked. Just then, one of the officers emerged, dragging a large pink suitcase with one hand, and with the other, Clara.

I stood, taking in the sight of my sister.

She was unbelievably skinny, her long golden hair matted, a baseball cap planted on top of her head and she swung a pair of sunglasses round in her left hand. She shot me a grin and waved. Her eyes were completely bloodshot. I'd never seen her look so bad.

I took a deep breath and turned to my waiting-room companion, whose mouth was opened and forming a perfect "o" as he looked from Clara to me.

I headed back to the counter and then stopped, turning back to the guy. "And I hope everything turns out okay with your sister."

He nodded mutely, his mouth still open. With that, I straightened my spine and made my way to the counter.

"Drew!" Clara squealed, flapping her arms at her side like some kind of flightless bird as she laughed. I cringed when a bit of drool dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin.

"This way, Miss Everett." The officer took Clara's tiny upper arm and guided her my way.

My sister opened her arms and started towards me, but I held out one hand, palm facing her. "Wait." I quickly mopped the drool from her mouth and wiped my wet hand on my jeans before Clara literally fell into my arms and started babbling happy nonsense.

"Little sister! You're so cute! I love you like lemonade," she crooned, the brim of her baseball cap hitting me in the face while her curly locks crawled into my nose.

I craned my neck to steal a peek at Ms. Karin. She watched us, her eyes somber and her lips set into a thin straight line.

"Ma'am." Startled by Officer No Neck's voice, Ms. Karin jumped and then turned her attention to him.

"Get off me, Clara," I whispered and gently pushed her away while keeping one hand around her upper arm to steady her so she wouldn't fall. I glanced at Officer No Neck as he handed Ms. Karin a small flash drive.

"Thank you," she replied. "You've been lovely."

He blushed, a nervous look in his eyes as he nodded.

I waited for Ms. Karin to offer some sort of explanation but she just handed me my license. I accepted it and stuffed it into my purse. Ms. Karin didn't quite meet my eyes while she said, "I think we're good to go."

Clara burped in my ear and, disgusted, I turned to her.

She looked a hot mess, but still recognizable. To counter this, I pushed the baseball cap further down on her head, snatched the sunglasses out of her hand and slipped them on over her eyes. I smoothed down her hair and took a step back.

"Good. I don't think anyone will recognize her," Ms. Karin said before handing me the flash drive Officer No Neck had given her. "This is footage of Clara, from their security cameras. I figured neither you nor your sister's agent would want it floating around."

Shocked, I looked at the flash drive and then back at Ms. Karin. "How did you-"

She shook her head. "Don't ask. Just thank me."

"Well, thanks." I slipped the flash drive into my purse and took my sister's hand while Ms. Karin grabbed Clara's suitcase.

As we walked through the airport, I stole glances at my theater teacher. How had she gotten the money to bribe those officers? Surely that was what she must have done - she had to have bribed them.

Ms. Karin caught my eye and offered me a smile.

Well, however she'd managed to do it, I was glad she'd decided to come to the airport with me.

"...AND ONE TALL cup of warm milk and... hang on a second!" Ms. Karin shouted into the speaker and then turned to me. "Want anything, Drew?"

Who went to Starbucks and ordered warm milk?

"No, thanks." I shook my head and Clara, who was still asleep in the backseat, groaned. I glanced at my sleeping sister. She was starting to drool again.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned back and wiped the drool from her mouth.

"Thanks, Tom," she mumbled, her eyes briefly fluttering open.

"...and a tall coffee and that'll be all," Ms. Karin shouted into the speaker, her voice ringing in my left ear.

"Did you say _warm milk_?" the barista asked, her voice nearly drowned out by a distant roll of thunder.

I glanced at the sky while Ms. Karin confirmed her weird order. Only moments ago, it had been raining hard with shocking bursts of lightning, but now there was only a light drizzle. But the clouds were still gray and I had a feeling the storm wasn't over yet.

"Okay, that'll be six dollars even. We'll see you at the window," the barista chirped.

"Thanks!" Ms. Karin shouted before driving around to the window.

I turned to Ms. Karin. "Planning on falling asleep while you drive?"

"Not quite." She smiled. "The warm milk is for your sister."

"Warm milk helps?" I asked as I leaned over to push my seat back for more leg room.

"I think so. That and sometimes vitamin C - it depends on the person." Ms. Karin reached for her purse while I continued to make myself comfortable, scooting backwards and stretching my feet out on the dashboard.

We pulled around to the drive-thru window and Ms. Karin turned to greet the barista, a red-headed chick with a short, spiky haircut and a glimmering diamond stud nose ring. "Hi, how are you?"

"Good thanks," the girl said, returning Ms. Karin's smile and glancing back at her cash register. "Your total is six dollars even." As Ms. Karin opened her wallet, it dawned on me that I should've offered to pay.

Crap, I was so rude. __ I sat up and grabbed my purse. "Wait, hold on. I got this."

"No, that's okay, Drew." Ms. Karin shook her head, poking around in her wallet.

"Really, I got this." Retrieving my debit card, I shoved it under her nose. But Ms. Karin ignored me and pulled six ones out of her wallet.

"Okay, then." Tossing my card back into my purse, I plopped the purse back down on the floor. "I let you help me. Why won't you let me help you?"

Ms. Karin turned to me. "It's really not a big deal, Drew. You don't owe me anything. But, I do think you owe your mom a call. How about letting her know what's going on with Clara?"

"I don't owe Lenora Everett anything," I mumbled.

Ms. Karin blinked back at me. "She's _your_ _mother_. Besides, it'll look bad if you don't tell her."

"Who's looking?" I shrugged.

"Things fell into place at the airport, but you never know. If we somehow didn't cover all our bases and the story leaks, the entire world will be looking." Ms. Karin quickly stopped speaking as the barista reappeared at the drive-thru window and handed over her order.

I turned to the passenger window and stared at the parking lot next door. A woman with a large pregnant belly helped a toddler down from a minivan. While she held the little boy in midair, he said something that made her laugh. With that, she set him on the ground, and after pushing a strand of hair away from her face, moved one of her hands to her lower back and the other to her stomach. She looked like she could use a break. As soon as the little boy tugged at her pant leg, she turned her attention to him.

Lenora had never been like that with me and Clara. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd had us through surrogates, for the sake of keeping her figure.

I watched the mother open an umbrella and take her little boy's hand before ambling towards the restaurant.

To Lenora, the word "mother" was a title, not a role to actively take on. She didn't act like a real mother, so why should I treat her like one? I wasn't telling her jack.

We pulled away from the window, the pregnant lady and her little boy disappearing from view and being replaced with the sight of a busy intersection.

"You said she's going to rehab. She's _trying_. Give her that much," Ms. Karin said. "I think you ought to call her and let her know what's-"

"She's high," I blurted. "I called her this morning, and she was already high or maybe drunk, I don't know. Whatever. All I know is women like her shouldn't have children."

"I'm glad she decided to have you." Setting her coffee down in the cup holder, Ms. Karin glanced at me. "If she hadn't, we'd be lacking one of our greatest actresses. So, your mother got that part right."

_One of our greatest actresses?_ Ms. Karin's words echoed in my head and I wondered if they were true or if she was only saying that to be nice. I was a good actress and, sure, I'd get even better with time, but was I really all that special?

"You're incredibly talented, especially for someone so young," she went on. I sat absolutely still and fixed my eyes on the freeway ahead. "And because you're such a good actress, I know you can step out of yourself and empathize with someone whose problems are different from yours."

I sighed, knowing exactly where Ms. Karin was headed with this.

"Your mom has a substance abuse problem," she said. _And there it is._ I rolled my eyes. "Think about how you can relate to her. Have you ever done something that you knew was wrong, but you couldn't stop yourself and after you did it, you felt horrible?"

Her words slammed the breath out of me and I exhaled, loudly. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and turned to look out of the passenger window.

Heath. That whole making out in the middle of a busy hallway grossness. With me, it wasn't drugs, it was sex - or at least making out. What if I was the world's only virginal sex addict?

"Sometimes it happens to me too. Not with drugs, but with other things," Ms. Karin said. "I'll know it's dumb. I'll know the consequences. But I'll do it anyway. And afterwards, I could kick myself."

I wanted to look at her, but I was afraid I'd start crying, so I kept my eyes on the other cars that whizzed by.

"It happens to everyone. For some people it's a food addiction, for others it's an addiction to their own negative thinking patterns, but what's really bad is that some people are dealt a super terrible hand and end up addicted to alcohol or drugs. Your mom's one of the types who got dealt a bad hand, but she's trying, and that's something. I don't know if _my_ mother ever tried."

Surprised, I turned to Ms. Karin. A deep roll of thunder sounded above us.

"Your mother was an addict?" I asked, watching her bring the cup of coffee to her lips as she pretended to be nonchalant.

"I think so. And I think she... well." Hesitating, Ms. Karin set the coffee back in the cup holder. "Honestly, I don't know."

"Not fair. Tell me," I said, as I shifted to turn my entire body her way.

"Drew." Ms. Karin shook her head.

"You'll feel better if you say it. Not to mention, you'll make _me_ feel better," I said. "Treating me like I'm trustworthy will build my self-esteem."

Ms. Karin laughed. "Yeah, because your self-esteem is so shot."

"Come on, please?" I asked.

Ms. Karin glanced at Clara in the rearview mirror. "I almost forgot. The next time your sister wakes up, we'll need to give her the warm milk. So keep an eye on-"

"Yeah, okay. But stop changing the subject," I ordered. "Here's my offer: you tell me what you were going to say, and I tell you one of my deepest, darkest secrets. How about that?"

I watched her unsuccessfully try not to smile and her response was so low that I had to lean in to hear her say, "That wouldn't be a fair trade."

"How's that not fair?" I folded my arms. "Come on, Karin Greenich, _talk_! I need someone in my life to be real with me. At the moment, I have exactly one friend and a sister who I barely speak to, who also happens to be very high right now. I need someone in my life who trusts me enough to actually talk to me about things." My voice cracked as my thoughts momentarily skipped to Ben and how I'd managed to screw up the trust we'd shared.

"Geez Louise, Drew. Fine." She sighed and I pretended not to have heard her say something as dumb as "Geez Louise." The car slowed while Ms. Karin eased both hands up from the steering wheel and then brought them back down with a thud. "Well, I spent some of my childhood in an orphanage and I don't really have any memories of my mother. But I recently learned that she may have been fighting a drug problem that ended her life. From what I understand, she overdosed... on purpose."

"Oh, my God." My heart sank and I watched Ms. Karin blink rapidly before moistening her lips as if her mouth had suddenly gone dry. "I'm sorry."

Just like Ben's dad. No wonder Ms. Karin thought I should give Lenora a break. Lenora was still bad off, but at least she was alive and going to rehab; in the midst of her failure, she was trying.

"Ms. Karin, I don't know what to say."

She held up her hand, frowning in a way that made me shut up. "I'm sorry, Drew. But, do you hear that?"

"You don't have to pretend to change the subject." I kept my tone gentle, hoping she'd stop frowning and look at me. "If you don't want to talk about it, I totally respect that."

"No, Drew, I mean it. Do you hear that sound?" She lowered her hand as she leaned forward, concentrating.

Trying to dismiss what she'd just told me about her mother, I listened to the noises around us - the pitter patter of rain and my sister's snores underneath the gravelly sound of the road.

"That doesn't sound good," Ms. Karin muttered.

I shrugged. "That's just the road; they probably need to repave it."

"I don't think so." She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure that's the sound of a flat tire."

"Oh no." I groaned. My thoughts shifted to the tire gauge Ms. Karin carried in her purse. This perked me up a little and I turned to her. "At least you know all about flats, so this shouldn't be a huge problem."

#

Turns out, it _was_ a huge problem because good ol' Ms. Karin knew next to nothing about flat tires.

We were on the side of the road, waiting on Road Side Assistance, who I'd just called. But I hated sitting and waiting, and apparently Ms. Karin did too, so we were outside, staring helplessly at my flat tire.

Since the light rain had let up to become even more of a barely existent drizzle, mosquitos were running rampant and I waved one away as I pointed to a long metal tool that was shaped like an L. "I'm thinking that thing's supposed to go over the screw things on the hubcap."

Ms. Karin shoved a strand of her hair out of her face and stepped on the jack one last time, boosting the car. "Yeah, I think you're right." She picked up the tool I'd pointed to and said, "But shouldn't we take the wheel cover off first?"

How was I supposed to know?

The humidity was making me sweat and I was sick of mosquitoes buzzing around me like paparazzi. I rolled my eyes and trudged back to my side of the car. "Ms. Karin, I don't know! _You're_ the expert with your tire gauge and everything."

"What?" She frowned, looking at me like I'd suddenly started speaking Wookie.

While confusion ran across her face, I plopped into the passenger seat. "Don't you carry a tire gauge with you? Because you get so many flats?"

Her face lit with understanding, which she tried to hide. "Yes. But I usually end up calling a service and since you already called Road Side Assistance, I think we should just let that guy take care of it. I don't want to mess up your car. If it was my car, I'd do it, but every car's different..." Her voice trailed off as she walked around to the trunk to put the L-shaped tool back.

_She's lying,_ I realized. And to my surprise, this _really_ bothered me. It wasn't like it was a huge, life-shattering lie, but for some reason, it really got under my skin.

I jumped out of the car and followed Ms. Karin around to the trunk. "What are you? Like, a pathological liar or something?"

The same strand of hair kept falling in her face, messing up the stupid bun she always wore. She shoved the strand aside and leaned against the car, looking me in the eye as she calmly said, "What are you talking about?"

"Why are you so shady about everything?" I asked. "From the fake tire gauge in your purse to the way you bribed those security guys at the airport? Are you a pathological liar?"

"Drew." Ms. Karin lowered her gaze, pointedly avoiding my eyes. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

I shook my head, utterly disgusted. Why was everyone I knew either leaving me, angry with me, or lying to me?

"You shouldn't have been a teacher," I hissed. "With your acting chops, you could've won an Oscar by now."

"Hey..." Ms. Karin finally looked at me, her eyes softening. If I hadn't been so sure that she was lying, that look, and the gradual sadness that fell over her eyes, would've made me feel guilty. But at that point, I knew she was lying and I'd had enough. So, I stomped back to my car, got in, and slammed my door shut.

I sat there, stewing in my anger, when a horrific smell sent an Elvis-like curl to my upper lip.

"Clara?" I turned to my sister, who was yawning with her eyes closed. "Clara, did you fart?"

Her response was to stretch and open her bloodshot eyes while I reopened my door to let fresh air in. If she knew how bad she looked right then, she'd never get high again.

"You look terrible," I murmured, frowning at her dilated pupils.

"Heeey," she drawled, shooting me a lazy smile. "You look beautiful." Clara's voice was uncharacteristically soft. She reached for my hand, her mouth open as she stared at it in amazement.

"What so great about my hand?" I looked down at it, and Clara, meanwhile, took to petting my hand like it was a kitten.

"You love me, Drew. I know that now. You'll always love me because I'm your sunshine." She laughed, her eyes closing while a stream of spittle fell out of her mouth and dribbled down her chin.

Well that was one reason in itself to avoid drugs: the inability to control one's own drool.

"Yeah," I said, grabbing a napkin that the Starbucks barista had given us. Behind Clara, my trunk slammed shut and I looked up to see Ms. Karin frowning as she headed around to where I sat. I returned my attention to Clara and used the napkin to wipe her chin. "You _are_ my sunshine but, at the moment, you're acting like a raincloud and it's not cool. At all."

"I'm not a cloud," she whispered. "But I'll fly away because... monkey butts."

_Ugh. Just, ugh._

Her eyes were beginning to close, and I tossed the napkin on the floor before tapping Clara's forearm. "Hey, we got you some warm milk. It'll help."

"No." She shook her head and yawned. "That's not what I need. I need to explore the universe. You know? I can't be five forever."

"Um." Completely at a loss as to how to respond to that, I watched my sister's green eyes cross and shook my head. "Clara, you're not making any sense."

Ms. Karin opened the back door and poked her head in the car, her gaze going to my sister. "Hi, Clara. How are you feeling?"

"Like a lamp. But furry. In a good way," she cheerfully replied.

Ms. Karin nodded. "Right. Well, try that warm milk. It'll help."

Clara's smile dissolved and her eyes widened. "It's not, like, breast milk, is it?"

_Jesus..._

"No," Ms. Karin replied as if my sister had asked a perfectly normal question. "It's the kind of milk that's good for you."

"Great," Clara replied, grabbing it from the cup holder and taking a sip. "Thank you so much, mouse lady."

Mouse lady?

"Drew," Ms. Karin said. "I'm going to take a walk. I won't be long."

I blinked back at her. "You're going to 'take a walk' on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere? While it's raining?"

She pointed to the thicket at our right. "Not on the side of the road. In the greenery back there. And it's barely drizzling. I just need to stretch for a bit."

I glanced at the overgrown thicket. "Whatever," I mumbled. "Better watch out for snakes... and alligators."

"I won't go far and I'll be right back. Ten minutes max."

After Ms. Karin shut my door, I turned to watch her walk through the trees and tall grass.

I MOVED TO the backseat and made myself comfortable beside Clara. She was still in a semi-conscious state, but much less giggly after drinking the warm milk.

Sighing, I propped my legs up on the back of the front passenger's seat. _Twenty-four hours ago, Ben sat there,_ I thought while Clara moved around beside me. _He sat right there, looked into my eyes, and told me I was strong. He said I'd be okay_.

I tore my eyes away from the seat and turned to the window, focusing on the thicket Ms. Karin had taken it upon herself to traverse. My car shook as a large truck drove by and I crossed my arms, my mind refusing to leave Ben.

Now Ben knew just how strong I wasn't. The look on his face, that hatred... my stomach twisted at the memory.

"Drew." Clara's voice surprised me and I turned to my sister. She smiled, her eyes crossing and then uncrossing. "It worked."

"What worked?" I returned her smile. Even when she was this wasted, she was still pretty.

"The milk," she whispered as she closed her eyes. Her voice grew softer as she said, "Now I'm strong like you." I watched Clara grow still, her chest moving up and down while she drifted back to sleep.

Strong like me. __ My car shook as another truck, a huge eighteen wheeler, flew past. __ I didn't feel strong. Tears threatened to make their way to my eyes, but I took a deep breath and forced them away. I was no different than Lenora, with her addictions. It was in my genes. I couldn't help it. I had to be addicted to _something_ and, for me, that something happened to be guys.

Ben was wrong. I wasn't strong and I wasn't going to be okay.

My eyes watered and my nose began to leak. Annoyed, I ran my hand across my nose and then pushed away a trail of rebellious tears. The cool band of Winnie's ring kissed my skin, reminding me of the day she'd handed it to me and said, "For you, the brightest star I've ever met. One day, people are going to look to you for reassurance."

Winnie was right about a lot of things. For example, when I was seven, I'd decidedly told her that I'd be the one ballerina who simply wouldn't master a pirouette. I'll always remember that gaping feeling of defeat that had rocked the very pit of my stomach as I'd looked at Winnie and informed her of my decision to throw in the towel. I'll also always remember the way she took both of my shoulders in her hands, stooped to my level, and with her sharp blue eyes boring into mine, said, "You _will_ do this."

She was right. A few days later, I'd executed my very first pirouette.

Now, I glanced out of the window and into the thick grove of trees, while my car shook as another large truck passed us by. If it wasn't for her pushing me and believing in me, I probably wouldn't have done it. I turned her ring round on my finger. I needed to talk to Winnie right now.

I grabbed my phone and, quickly scrolling through my contacts, found Winnie's name.

"Hello?"

The sound of her voice making me grin, I said, "It's me, Drew."

"Yes, I know. I'm surprised to hear from you. I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth," she replied, her thick accent as pleasant as music.

"Pretty much, yeah. It _is_ Louisiana," I joked.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You wouldn't call unless something were wrong."

"I hate it here," I blurted. "And I hate _me_ here."

"What did you do?" she asked while something crashed on her end of the line.

"Where are you? What's all that noise?"

"My new client is the daughter of a chef, he's built her dance studio behind his restaurant. I'm walking through his kitchen to get there," she replied. "Now, what did you do, Drew? It must have been bad if you're calling me."

"Everyone thinks I'm a slut," I said, knowing Winnie wouldn't be interested in a long-winded story. "Even my best friend."

"Well, are you?" she asked.

"No." I thought about the way I felt when Heath touched me, even though I didn't really like him. "Actually, I don't know. That's why I'm calling you. Am I? I mean, you know me. What do _you_ think?"

"Tell me, what is 'a slut'?"

I thought about Lenora, the way I'd once caught her with our pool boy. Dude was, like, eighteen. And this was when Lenora had married her third husband _and_ simultaneously renewed her adulterous ship with Clara's dad for the second time. Confusing, huh? Well, that was the life of a forty-year-old slut - confusing.

"I guess it's a girl who sleeps with every guy she sees," I paused. "Like Lenora."

"Why does 'a slut' do this?" Winnie asked, without skipping a beat. In the background, I heard birds chirping.

"Are you outside?" I asked.

"Yes, and my client is scheduled to begin her class in less than three minutes, so answer my questions as quickly as possible."

"Okay." My thoughts skipped from what I knew about Lenora's personality to what I knew of my own personality and that's when it hit me. "I guess they need the attention and, well... it feels good."

"What feels good? The attention or the sex?" she asked.

My face warmed. "I don't know. Both?"

"Okay, why do they need attention?"

"Because-" Clara emitted a snore reminiscent of a foghorn and I glanced at her before continuing. "Because the attention makes them forget about things that hurt or maybe..."

"Yes, go on," Winnie urged. "And talk faster."

"Maybe it makes the emptiness go away for a little while," I said, remembering the satisfaction that had flowed through me when Heath told me he liked me. It didn't come close to the internal fireworks I'd experienced during my moment with Ben, but it was definitely a quick high.

"Good. Now, here's what I have to say, and I need you to listen closely," Winnie replied in the clipped and crisp tone that I missed so much. I listened, picturing her scowling as she stood ram rod straight, one hand on her thin hip, the other clutching her phone. "There is no such thing as 'a slut.' There _are_ however, normal people, both male and female, who've been neglected and abused. Being treated this way creates injuries to their self-esteem. Tell me, Drew, if you fall and scrape your knee, what happens to the scrape?"

"Um, it hurts."

"Yes. And it heals to become a scab. The same is true of a person's injured psyche. The psyche finds ways of healing itself."

"Like, it creates a scab?" I frowned.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. A 'scab' is formed as the person subconsciously searches for various forms of love and attention to cover the injuries to their psyche," Winnie explained. "The only problem with this is that scabs aren't meant to last forever. But the injured person can become attracted to various quick-fixes or 'scabs,' which are terrible substitutes for love. These include substance abuse, promiscuity, or even obsessive-compulsive disorder. So, it's not that this person is a 'slut,' Drew. They're simply trying to heal."

I nodded. That made sense.

"So," Winne continued, "if you fall into that category and you're using boys as a way to heal, you need to figure out why. What pain are you trying to cover?"

The question threw me and I twisted her ring around on my finger. "Uh, I don't know. I guess I want people to, um, see me."

"Okay. Good. Now, how can you get attention without catching an STD?"

"Winnie!" I exclaimed. "It's not like I'm literally _hooking up_ _with_ anyone. I just... I don't know... everyone at school saw me make one mistake and now they probably just assume I'm-"

"We're not talking about the children at your school," she interjected. "We're talking about _you_. You want attention. Okay. So, what are some healthy ways that you can get people to notice you?"

I turned to the passing traffic and watched the blur of speeding cars. "Acting."

"Yes. And are you not an actress?" she asked. In the background, bird chirps faded out and I heard the creak of an opening door.

"Yes," I quickly replied, knowing she was going to tell me she had to hang up.

"Then _be_ an actress. Act as much as you can. If you can't do movies right now, then concentrate on simple theater projects, even school plays. And, Drew?" She lowered her voice. "In my opinion, you're not just an actress, you're a star."

I hoped she was right.

"Thank you, Winnie."

"You're welcome. Now I've got to go. And just so you know, I'm a realist, yes, but I loathe the thought of you throwing yourself at some horny hillbilly. Promise me you'll stop that nonsense," she ordered.

That'd be really great advice if Swamp Rose actually _had_ hillbillies. It was more like "swamp rats" around here. "I promise."

"Okay, call me next week and let me know how you're doing," she said, her tone crisp. "Goodbye now." With that, she hung up.

I set my phone on my lap, folded my arms, and thought about what she'd said.

" _Act as much as you can..._ " She was right. That was my only option. I'd lost Ben and the only thing left for me to throw myself into was acting. I should ask Ms. Karin about auditioning for the next school play...

Speaking of Ms. Karin, where was she? It felt like it had been forever since she'd gone on her mysterious little walk.

I picked up my phone and looked at the time.

"3:45?" I whispered, tossing my phone aside and bolting out of the car. She had been out there for nearly an hour. That was way longer than she said she'd be gone. What if she'd been bitten by a snake and passed out? __ I slammed the car door shut and jogged to the grove. After tripping on my heels several times, I slowed down to peer into the thicket.

I _so_ didn't want to go in here _._ The verdant grove was pretty to look at, but a sure haven for snakes and other creepy crawlers.

"Ms. Karin?" I shouted. "Hey, Ms. Karin, can you come back now? I'm worried." I folded my arms and waited for a response, but all I heard were cars passing on the freeway and a distant roll of thunder.

Great. This was perfect. On the same day that I threw myself at Heath, therefore losing the one guy I actually liked, I also found out that my perfect older sister was on drugs, and to top it off, my favorite teacher was a pathological liar who got herself eaten by alligators.

"I hate Louisiana," I mumbled, teetering on my heels as I stepped off the gravel and into the wet grass. Walking around a humongous anthill, I stepped over a pile of dog poop and wondered who on Earth would walk their dog on the side of the freaking freeway.

_Only in Louisiana_ , I thought, shaking my head in disdain.

"Ms. Karin?" I shouted, leaves crunching under my heels as I entered the shade of the thicket's trees.

It was nice to be out of the drizzle, but creepy to be surrounded by so much nature. I glanced around at the tree trunks, berry-bearing bushes, and insects crawling along like little mad-hatters and I found myself shivering. I'd never been a huge fan of wildlife and the like. It was beautiful, but when it came to down it, I'd rather watch the Nature Channel than actually be _in_ nature.

"Ms. Karin?" I called, my gaze going to a ladybug that landed on my arm before darting away.

A sudden crunching of leaves caught my attention and the leaves of a small berry bush shook as a little brown and white rabbit took one look at me and then hopped away like I was some kind of fearsome ax murderer.

Well, I guessed we were even; nature didn't like me either.

"Ms. Karin, where are you?" I whispered, glancing over my shoulder, back to the path I'd traveled. A tickling sensation crawled up my ankle and I looked down at my foot. A large winged insect was trying to have its way with my foot and utterly grossed out, I knelt down, brushing it away. Just ahead, the leaves of the trees began to rustle.

I looked up and what I saw something made my blood run cold.

Against the background of the trees and far _above_ the ground, Ms. Karin's face and neck materialized into view, appearing out of thin air. Her body appeared next as she, still suspended in the air, floated down.

The sight lasted for mere seconds, but I felt like time had come to a standstill.

This couldn't be real. Did I fall and hit my head? Because this had to be a dream...

As Ms. Karin's feet touched the ground, she stuffed the non-tire gauge into the pocket of her brown sweater and then paused, frowning, as she clutched her stomach.

I needed to get out of here. I didn't want her to know I saw. But, __ at that moment, Ms. Karin's eyes met mine and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Drew?"

_Nope. Don't answer. Run. Just run!_

I scrambled to my feet and ran out of the thicket as quickly as I could.

#

"Drew, wait!" Ms. Karin called from behind me. But no way was I going to stop and wait for someone who I'd just seen _floating in the air._ I quickened my pace, bumped into a tree, yelped, and then ran around it - which, in retrospect, probably looked pretty pathetic. __ Pushing past bushes, tree branches, and low-hanging vines, I finally felt raindrops hit the top of my head and saw my car just a few feet ahead.

_Run, run, get to the car, and lock the doors - go!_

I crashed out of the tall grass and onto the gravel roadside where I slammed into the front passenger door. My hands shaking and my face dripping wet, I hurried inside.

Crap! I should've gotten in on the driver's side. __ I locked my door and glanced back at Clara. She was still asleep.

Every one of my limbs trembling, I climbed over the armrest and into the driver's seat. How was I going to drive away with a flat and my car on a jack-

"Drew!" Ms. Karin's voice sounded in my ear and I screamed as I turned to find her sitting in the passenger seat.

"How did you get _in my car_?" __ I shouted.

"Drew, would you please stop screaming and let me explain?" Ms. Karin yelled. From the backseat, the sound of an old muscle car revving up silenced me and we both turned to Clara. My sister was sitting up, her eyes wide as she stared straight ahead. Her delicate features were tensed into a pinched expression and her face was beet red.

As my car gradually filled with the smell of rotten eggs and the "revving" noise continued, I realized that my sister was farting.

I gagged while the sound stopped and Clara murmured, "That felt amazing." With this, she leaned back and returned to sleep.

I glared at Ms. Karin. "Did you have something to do with that?"

"How could I have anything to do with your sister's flatulence? No, Drew." She glanced at the black device in her hand before meeting my eyes. "But I definitely owe you an explanation about what you saw back there."

"Yeah, you do," I snapped.

Ms. Karin wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But before I explain anything, if you don't mind, I'm going to crack a window."

My heart pounding, I shook my head. "I don't care." At that point, all I cared about was the truth.

#

Our experiences shape our perception of reality. I, for example, experienced difficulty in my relationships with my mother, my sister, and in the few confusing make-out sessions with the occasional guy or two. So, I eventually came to the conclusion that I suck at giving and receiving love; that was my reality.

But when I'd act, everything changed. When I'd play a character who was in a loving relationship, I'd temporarily change my perspective by letting go of my negative experiences and pouring myself into my character's perception of love.

That was what I'd always liked the most about acting; it was an opportunity to escape yourself. You wore someone else's experiences like a new skin and let their life happen to you. Their story became your story and no matter how weird it got, you accepted it as truth.

That being said, I was pretty sure it was my experience as an actor that allowed me to accept Ms. Karin's explanation when she fixed her brown eyes on mine and told me that a mysterious organization had erased her memory and given her the ability to read minds.

Yeah, I'm not joking.

Once my car with its new tire had been safely tucked away in Lenora's garage, my sister put to bed, and Ms. Mona sent off to our guest house, Ms. Karin and I had "the discussion" in Lenora's living room.

"...it's not a tire gauge. It's very similar to a cloaking device." Ms. Karin paused, frowning as she watched me. I think she was checking my thoughts to see if I believed her. I couldn't blame her for her uncertainty. I'd been wordlessly listening to her for the past ten minutes. And I was sure the look on my face was that of a poker champion's. When I was in actor-listening-mode, that was all you were going to get from me.

After a moment's hesitation, Ms. Karin continued, "It allows me to fly at a speed that pushes me through solid objects."

I blinked. Pushed her through solid objects?

"Meaning," she went on, "when it's activated, I'm invisible and I can fly through walls, doors, basically anything solid. I call it Blackbird."

Blackbird.

Ms. Karin and I stared at each other, neither of us saying a word.

It wasn't that I didn't trust her story. After all, I'd been sitting there in actor-listening-mode, which meant self-induced vulnerability. But it still took a moment for her words to sink in, the way a YouTube video sometimes takes a few minutes to buffer.

I looked down at Lenora's pearl-colored carpet and silently put Swamp Rose's citizens' interest in "Unseen" together with everything Ms. Karin had just told me. Was Ms. Karin the mysterious "Unseen"? __ I brought my mug of mint tea to my mouth, taking a sip as I considered this.

"That's right," Ms. Karin said, her voice soft. I looked at her and her expression was grave as she nodded. "I'm Unseen."

_Jesus._ Chills ran along my arms and I stifled a shiver. I leaned forward and set my mug on the coffee table, right next to my phone.

_So, can you hear this?_

"Yes." Ms. Karin nodded. "If you're close enough, I'll hear your every thought."

"That's crazy," I whispered. Twisting Winnie's ring around on my finger, I frowned at Ms. Karin, reassessing her plain hairstyle and ugly clothes... I guessed the way she dressed made sense now. The dark colors and shapeless styles were deliberate; she was trying to _hide_. __ "So that was you in Corner Mart? You saved us?"

Ms. Karin nodded and averted her eyes, letting them go to the portrait of Lenora that hung on the wall behind us.

"How'd you... how did you know he was going to be there? The robber?" I stammered, staring at my teacher.

"His name's Hal," Ms. Karin said, retuning her attention to me. "He's related to one of my students and this particular student knew about his plans for Corner Mart. In my fifth hour, I overheard the student wondering if Hal had already robbed the store or not."

"Geez, that's..." I shook my head, searching for the right word. "It's incredible. _You're_ incredible." I couldn't help but stare at her in awe and try to imagine the mousy woman who sat in front of me kicking butt and taking names as Unseen.

Ms. Karin, however, lowered her gaze and fidgeted, lacing and unlacing her fingers.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wishing _I_ could see into _her_ thoughts.

She met my eyes. "Drew, you can't tell anyone about my identity. Because the organization that gave me these abilities is looking for me and they're dangerous."

My mouth went dry. "Dangerous?"

"Yes. I've heard they've initiated some kind of Unseen manhunt. If they found out who I was, there's no telling what they'd do."

"Got it. I understand," I said with a gulp. In my mind's eye, I imagined men in black, guns drawn, bursting through the front door, looking for Ms. Karin. As soon as this thought crossed my mind, a clap of thunder sounded outside and the house's lights flickered. I shivered. "Who are these people anyway? You called them an 'organization,' so I'm guessing they're not a branch of the government."

"I've said too much already," Ms. Karin said, watching me carefully. "And I didn't mean to upset you."

"You're not upsetting me."

"Okay, sure," she said in a voice that said she believed otherwise. "Just know that everything's going to be okay. As long as they don't know who I am, they can't touch me."

"Okay." I nodded. "Your secret's safe with me."

Ms. Karin's eyes widened and she glanced at the stairs.

"What's wrong?" I asked, a streak of panic running through me. I glanced back at the staircase.

"It's Clara," she said. "She just woke up and she's starting to get paranoid, which means she's coming down from the high. You should check on her."

Great. I made a face to express my disinterest in dealing with my sister's shroom-induced paranoia. "This'll be fun." I started to stand, but my phone vibrated against the glass of the coffee table and I picked it up.

Ben's name blinked back at me from my New Texts queue and my heart shifted in my very chest - no exaggeration. I held my breath as I opened his text.

**Can you come over please**

Another crash of thunder shook the house and our electricity stuttered. But this time, I didn't care. Elated, I exhaled and looked up to find Ms. Karin smiling at me. "If it was any boy other than Ben, I wouldn't encourage a late-night visit to said boy's house. But, it's Ben. And you really should go to him. I'll be happy to stay with Clara for a bit."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Just be careful out there; it sounds like the storms gotten worse."

"I will, and thank you, Ms. Karin; thank you so much!" I exclaimed, bolting from the couch as I scanned the living room for my purse. "Call me if you need anything and feel free to leave any time, just text me when you do." Spotting my purse on the chair next to the fireplace, I grabbed it and slung it over my shoulder.

"Will do," Ms. Karin said. "And not that I don't trust Ben, but don't stay out too late. It _is_ a school night."

It felt weird to hear someone tell me that, like it was a scripted line in a made-for-television movie, but I guess some adults actually do say things like that to teenagers.

"Okay," I said, giving Ms. Karin a smile as I made my way to our garage.

With this, I hurried off to Ben, hoping he'd be ready to forgive me.

#

I closed my umbrella as I ducked under Ben's porch and glanced back at the large blue truck in his driveway. It looked like Blake Pianciano's. He was one of our school's seniors, an extremely opinionated and extremely cute hipster type I'd sometimes end up eating lunch with. Blake and I only knew each other because he'd occasionally eat with Ben. And I was always with Ben.

At least, that was the way it used to be.

Hopefully, Ben had somehow found it in himself to hear me out and then, with his forgiveness, we'd go back to being friends. It would hurt like a hemorrhoid to be nothing more than Ben's "friend," but at least I'd still have him in my life. And who knew? Maybe with time, we could get past my awful mistake and return to SO status.

Nervous, I rang the Morris's doorbell and smoothed down my jeans as I glanced at the spring wreath Ben's mother had on their door. Each of its tiny purple flowers were perfectly situated on the circular piece of greenery. A night breeze picked up and as I rubbed my shoulders to dismiss the chill, the scent of lavender floated my way.

I leaned forward and sniffed the wreath. The flowers were real. I got the feeling Mrs. Morris was one of those anal-retentive perfectionist types who obsessed over perfecting wreaths but failed to address the actual issues in her life. The door flung open and my heart dropped as the anal-retentive perfectionist herself stood before me.

Ben looked a lot like his mother. They shared the same peaches-and-cream complexion, the same dark hair, and intense hazel eyes. The one big difference between them, well, other than gender, was the sensitive nature that somehow revealed itself in Ben's expression. His eyes were prone to lighting up with happiness every five seconds, but Ms. Morris's eyes held no such joy.

Instead, she stared straight through me and, had her eyes been lasers, I would've been reduced to a pile of ashes.

A roll of thunder sounded and was immediately followed by a crackle of lightening.

"Hi, Ms. Morris," I said with a smile. "I-"

"You're not welcomed here," she said quietly, but each of her words were clipped, indicating utter disgust. Her eyes moved down to my clothes. I suddenly felt like I was wearing rags instead of an $1,800 outfit.

"Ms. Morris." I forced myself to speak, hating the tremor that had suddenly crept into my voice. "I owe you an apology for what happened yesterday in your driveway, we-"

She slammed the door in my face and I jumped, startled. As the purple wreath stared back at me, anger seared through my veins. I took a step back and grabbed my phone from my purse. Fine. I'd tell Ben I was here and hopefully he'd come out here to talk.

Before I could place the call, the Morris's door reopened and I looked up.

"Drew." Blake Pianciano, tall, dark, handsome and the owner of a shockingly black eye stood before me with an apologetic smile on his lips. "Come in."

"What happened to your eye?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

I was going to reply, but Ben's mother was yelling before I had a chance to open my mouth.

"Blake! This is a personal family matter. That girl has no right to be here!" Ms. Morris shouted from somewhere behind him. I couldn't see her, but the waver in her voice told me that she was either crying or very close to it. "I should throw you _both_ out!"

Rolling his eyes, Blake opened the door further and gestured for me to come in as he called over his shoulder, "Ben wants her here; he's the one who asked her to come over."

I bit back a smile before setting my umbrella on their porch and stepping into the Morris's house where I immediately came face to face with Ben's mother.

Oh my God, she _was_ crying? I took an awkward step back. The fact that I was in love with her son was reducing her to tears? Was I really that horrible?

The second I thought this, I thought about what I'd done with Heath and my stomach turned. Guilt washing over me, I glanced down.

I _was_ that horrible.

"Ms. Morris, I'm sorry." I paused, searching for the right words. "I know I'm not perfect, but I really like Ben and I hope you and I can make things between us better, because I don't want to be the idiot who makes her best friend's mother cry."

Ms. Morris shook her head and I glanced at Blake, who stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked between the two of us, his brow furrowed.

_Wait a second._ I paused, my heart skipping a beat. _Something's not right_.

I turned to Blake. "Where's Ben?"

"I'm not crying because of you," Ms. Morris snapped as she took a step towards me. I backed away. "Not everything is about _you_. My son is ..." Ms. Morris shook her head while tear after tear streamed down her cheeks.

"Ben's _what_?" I asked, my blood running cold with fear.

"Ms. Morris," Blake said as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ben wants to talk to Drew. I think it'll help."

She shoved his hand away, and, still crying, stalked off to the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, Drew." Blake sighed and nodded to the hallway that led to Ben's room. "Come on, he's been asking for you."

"Is he okay?" I asked, silently freaking out. "What happened?"

"Just talk to him. He'll tell you." Blake ushered me down the hall, it's walls littered with familiar pictures of Ben as a little kid, posing with his baseball team, dressed as Luke Skywalker, laughing with his grandparents. I'd seen these pictures a couple dozen times, but I'd never stopped to _really_ look at them.

We approached Ben's bedroom and the door was open, light from his room filtering into the hallway.

Blake knocked on the partially opened door and stepped inside. "Drew's here."

"Drew!" Ben exclaimed. At the sound of his voice, I pushed past Blake and stepped into the room that, over the last several months, had become my second home.

Ben sat on the edge of his unmade bed, a dark blue blanket draped across his thighs, and several laptops opened around him.

His room was messier than I'd ever seen it. Several _Star Wars_ posters were torn from the wall, an opened suitcase lay on the floor, and most of the clothes in his closet, for some reason, had been taken off their hangers and strewn across the floor. A boy from school, I think his name was Garrett, sat at Ben's desk, his chair turned to face Ben.

Ben jumped up and his blanket fell to the floor. He ran towards me and tripped on a pair of shoes. I reached out and caught his elbow, steadying him. "Gotcha."

With this, I looked down at my hand, which Ben had taken in a death grip.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my gaze returning to his face. He looked... different. Not sick, but, _different_. His eyes were unusually wide, like he'd seen something scary, and his hair was an absolute mess. I could tell he'd been running his hands through it like a maniac.

"No," Ben said, pulling me towards his bed. "Sit." Letting him drag me along and then plop me down, I glanced at Garrett, who nodded a silent hello. Unable to respond, I returned my attention to Ben.

He still hadn't let go of my hand, and I noticed that both of his were shaking.

"No one believes me," he whispered, moving closer to me. "Even my mom thinks I'm crazy. But I know what I saw." Ben's warm breath landed on my cheeks as he repeated, "I know what I saw."

"Okay." I took a deep breath and gave both of his hands a squeeze. Whatever was wrong, I desperately wanted to kiss him and I had a feeling that if I did, it'd help him calm down. So, I leaned towards him and then hesitated because Ben's hazel eyes were so dilated they'd turned black.

My hesitation only lasted a second. I pushed myself forward and brought my lips to Ben's. He responded as I'd hoped. His hands moved to my waist as he kissed me back. Behind me, Blake cleared his throat.

I eased away from Ben, my gaze going to his hands. No longer trembling, they rested comfortably at my hips.

Good. __ I looked up and met Ben's frightened gaze. His expression sent a jolt of fear to the pit of my stomach. I ignored it and pasted on a smile. "You could tell me anything and I'd believe you."

He ran his hand along my right cheek and I closed my eyes. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since we broken up, but I'd missed this like it had been years.

Ben's finger grazed the tip of my chin as he whispered, "Drew?" I opened my eyes to find his reduced to their normal size. "I saw something at school."

"What?"

He ran both of his hands through his hair, messing it up even more. "So, I was trying to fix your friend's camera, that older couple."

I nodded, my thoughts shifting to Laura and Tom.

"I needed the ratchet and wire stripper from the photography lab at school, so I had my mom drop me off at SLH." Ben leaned towards his nightstand and grabbed Laura and Tom's camera. I hadn't even noticed it sitting there. He set the camera on the bed, placing it between us. "While I was there, I fixed their camera and found these shots on it. The camera was shooting during the robbery, look." He turned the camera around towards me. "Look."

On the view screen I saw a shot of me and Laura, photobombed by one of Tom's fingers as he took our picture. In the background, a man in a ski mask stood in Corner Mart's doorway.

"See?" he asked.

I nodded and glanced at Ben. "Yeah."

"Now, look at this one," he said as he pressed one of the arrows below the view screen. I followed his gaze down and my breath caught in my throat.

The masked man, mouth open, face upturned, one foot on the ground and the other in the air, was obviously being punched by someone invisible.

Ms. Karin.

"So, he's falling down," I squeaked. I cleared my throat and my voice returned to normal. "Maybe he had a seizure."

"No." Ben shook his head, pointing to the robber in the picture. "Someone's punching __ him. You can see the indent of a fist on his mask. There's someone invisible punching him."

I looked at Ben and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What could I say? I couldn't blurt out, "Yeah, I know" and reveal Ms. Karin's secret. But I couldn't lie to Ben.

I glanced at Garrett, hoping he'd have something distracting to say. But Garrett, as quiet as ever, was no help at all; he just blushed and looked at his feet. Thanks for nothing, Garrett.

"Well..." I stalled, pushing the camera aside and taking hold of Ben's hands. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a real response. I knew I had to say something. "Ben, of course I believe you. But-"

"Okay, you know what?" Blake cut in. I turned to him as he said, "It's time to drop this. The faster we stop talking about Unseen and what Ben thinks he saw, the closer we are to his mom _undeciding_ to send him to a mental hospital."

I stared at Blake in horror.

"Shut up, Blake!" Ben shouted, startling me.

I'd never heard Ben yell at anyone. I returned my attention to Ben and his face had turned red and a vein in his forehead was visibly throbbing beneath his skin.

Good God.

"Drew's not here to argue. She's here to hear me out!" Ben shouted, making me jump. "Why are _you_ here, Blake?"

I glanced at Blake, whose eyes were wide. He looked just as surprised as I was.

"Ben?" I said, trying to sound calm. I gave his hands a gentle squeeze. "It's okay, I'm here and I'm listening."

"Yeah," Ben said. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not myself. I shouldn't have yelled. Sorry, man."

"Don't worry about it," Blake mumbled.

I released Ben's hand and brought my palm to his cheek, gently cupping the side of his face. He looked at me, his thick eyelashes nearly shading his eyes.

"You're going to be okay," I said.

He nodded and, still looking at me, took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "It's not just the pictures, Drew. There's more. When I left the lab, I saw this girl and... and her eyes were glowing in the dark. She was coming out of the main building and she must not have seen me because she stopped, looked around, and then her feet left the ground. Like, she _flew_ to the school's roof. When she was on the roof, she hovered a few feet and just disappeared. It looked like she went into an invisible craft, like a spaceship with a cloaking device, maybe. I don't know."

Ben's hands were starting to tremble and without thinking, I pushed myself forward and kissed him again.

As I leaned away from Ben's lips, his trembling hands relaxing in mine. I tried to think back to our ride home from the airport. It wasn't like it was completely dark yet, but Ms. Karin's eyes hadn't looked like they were glowing. Maybe the storm was so bad that it skewed what Ben saw? Even so, how could Ben have seen Ms. Karin when she was with me this entire evening?

"Say something." Ben's voice was soft, but it brought me out of my thoughts. I met his eyes and realized that he was on the edge of his seat, waiting for my response.

There had to be an explanation for what Ben saw. Maybe Ms. Karin used the Blackbird to slip away while I was helping Clara to bed. Maybe she went to SLH and that was when Ben saw her.

"Drew?" Ben pleaded, his eyes watering. "Am I crazy?"

He got a glimpse of Unseen. That was the only explanation.

"Of course you're not crazy, Ben. Of course I believe you."

Behind me, Blake sighed and the sound made me want to punch him in his pretty face. But I didn't. Instead, I looked at Ben and realized I couldn't just write this off. I had to understand more about what was going on.

"What time did you say you saw the... the flying girl?" I asked.

"After 8, maybe 8:15 I think, definitely before 8:30 because it was exactly 8:30 when I called Blake and asked him to pick me up."

"Drew." At the sound of Ms. Morris's voice, all four of us turned to the doorway. The way she was looking at me, you would've thought I'd sprouted horns and a tail.

"Kindly remove yourself from my son's bed and from our home." Her demand was punctuated with a loud sniff and a lingering glare.

I glanced at Blake and his eyes were downcast, aimed at the room's light brown carpet. I turned to Ben and the desperate look in his eyes made my heart sink. I didn't want to leave him like this; it didn't take a mind reader to know that he felt completely alone.

"I believe you," I whispered, slipping my fingers out of his.

"Thank you," he whispered, looking into my eyes.

I stood and briefly glanced at Garrett who, though quiet, was braver than Blake in that he at least gave me a silent nod goodbye.

"See you at school, Garrett," I said as I secured my purse on my shoulder and headed to the doorway, where Ms. Morris stood guard with her hands at her sides like a member of the Secret Service: Middle-Aged and Overweight division.

"Drew?" Ben's voice stopped me and I turned around, meeting his eyes. One of the things I loved about talking to Ben was that even if we were in a room full of people, when our eyes met and he spoke, no one else existed. It was just us.

"You and Heath?" he asked.

My heart sort of caved in on itself and I wanted to scream, "Noooo," but I contained myself.

"Ben, that's enough. She needs to leave," Ms. Morris announced from behind me.

"No." I shook my head. We didn't take our eyes off each other as I said, "I was an idiot, and if you give me another chance, I won't do that again. I promise."

He just stared at me, his eyes watering.

I sounded like Lenora, making promises. But, the thing was, I meant it; I _really_ wouldn't ever do that again. That was when it hit me that Lenora probably meant to keep every one of her promises too. Refusing to dwell on this, I pushed the thought aside. "You're Han and I'm Leia. We both know there's only one guy for Leia."

"But Leia didn't make out with Boba Fett," Ben said, lowering his gaze.

My heart didn't exactly _break_ \- it was more like a painfully slow rip. I swallowed hard, my stomach turning as I waited for Ben to complete the rest of the definitive statement that was, clearly, on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He was going to officially break up with me.

But Ben just stared at his bedspread and after a moment, I realized that his silence probably had something to do with the fact that his mother was shouting.

Apparently, the trauma of my heart ripping in two had momentarily rendered me deaf. I turned around, moved past Blake, who gave me an apologetic look, and past Ms. Morris who was screaming something that I chose not to hear. Letting myself out of Ben's house, I shut the door behind me and came to a halt on their porch.

The storm had gotten worse. The thunder was like a drum beat, one pounding sound right after the other while white streaks of lightning tore across the sky and rain fell in sheets. I stared at the rain and shook my head in confusion.

At 8:15, Ms. Karin and I were saying goodbye to Ms. Mona and promising her we'd look after Clara. I remembered because I'd suddenly realized I was hungry and glanced at the clock. It was 8:15 exactly.

There was no way Ms. Karin could have had anything to do with what Ben saw.

I grabbed my umbrella and used it to shield myself from the rain as I ran to my car. While I was splashing through puddles and fighting the wind for my umbrella, the rain suddenly became hail.

I don't know why this surprised me; everything about Swamp Rose was strange, from the weather that changed on a dime, to the fact that the local theater teacher was a mutant.

Swamp Rose was full of secrets. And for Ben's sake, I needed to get to the root of them. He needed to know he wasn't crazy.

#

The boys' basketball game sent sneaker squeaks and shouts across the gym and the noise was loud enough to overpower the buzz of my classmates' conversations. But it wasn't loud enough to drown the roar of my thoughts.

Why'd Ben's mother keep him out of school today? That was so dumb. __ Sighing, I dipped the tiny brush into the bottle of Purple Dewberry fingernail polish and rubbed it along the inside edge of the bottle before bringing it to the nail of Megs' left pinky.

He needed normalcy right now. What he didn't need was his anal-retentive mother keeping him in the house, treating him like he was actually insane.

"Drew?" Megs' voice interrupted my thoughts and made me look up.

"Yeah?" I glanced at the brush as it dripped purple nail polish onto the bleacher seat. _Oops._ Dipping the brush back into the polish, I looked up to find Megs frowning. Below her scowl, her eyelids had been dusted with light gold eye shadow.

I smiled. "You're wearing eye shadow. It looks pretty." Noticing this was a feat for me, as I hadn't been aware of much of anything since last night's insanity.

After barely sleeping, I'd managed to drag myself out of bed at the sound of my alarm, throw on some clothes, and robotically drive myself to school. Once there, I was basically a walking zombie. But the second gym class started, and Megs ran up to me, showing off her new haircut with a bright smile, her excitement was contagious and it kind of lifted me from my funk ... well, it lifted me for about three minutes. Then, it was back to obsessing about Ben and his "alien" sighting.

"Why are you so quiet today?" Megs asked, ignoring my compliment as she waved the one hand I'd completed in the air to make the nail polish dry quicker. "You're not complaining about anything and it's completely throwing me off. What's wrong with you?"

_If you only knew_.

I shrugged and shook the bottle of polish before setting it back down on the bleachers with a thud.

"Maybe I'm in shock about this transformation thing you've got going on." I gestured to her and she smiled. "Give me your other hand, Cinderella."

"Thanks." Megs chuckled and put her hand, palm down, on the bleacher. "Hey, look at Mia."

I opened the bottle of nail polish and glanced at the gym floor to find Heath messing with a couple of cheerleaders, neither of which were Mia. Rolling my eyes at Heath, I continued my scan of the gym and didn't see Mia at all.

"I feel so bad for her," Megs whispered.

"What are you talking about? And I don't see Mia," I said, redirecting my attention to the bottle of nail polish as I opened it and began to paint her thumb. It felt so stupid to gossip about high school drama after what happened to Ben.

"Look at the door to the left. She's sneaking out with Josh, that football player who got suspended for harassing Lanie Russell," Megs whispered.

I stopped painting and looked at Megs. "Harassing Lanie Russell? When did that happen?" I glanced at the door and spotted Mia. She was leaning on the opened door as she leered into the eyes of a broad-shouldered football player I'd seen here and there around campus. "And who's dumb enough to sneak back _into_ school when they're suspended?"

Megs rolled her eyes. "He _is_ Heath's friend. Anyone dumb enough to hang around with Heath has to have an IQ in the negatives. It all happened yesterday, right before that earthquake."

"Did you say _earthquake_?" I stared at Megs.

She nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't too bad, just kind of weird. It came out of nowhere, but I guess that's what earthquakes do."

Jesus. Between the drama and the earthquakes, I felt like I was back in L.A.

"Anyway," Megs went on. "Josh started messing with Lanie, you know how he is. And Lanie... I love her to death, but I swear she's _the_ clumsiest person in the world. Anyway, they say she was trying to get away from him and ended up falling down the stairs and passing out."

I laughed and Megs' eyes widened as she stared at me. Quickly sobering, I turned my attention to her next nail. "I didn't mean to laugh, harassment isn't funny. Of course I think Josh is a douche who should be hated forever."

"Relax, I sort of laughed too when I first heard," Megs admitted, her eyes softening as a sheepish smile made its way to her lips. "And I _really_ laughed when I heard that Blake Pianciano, Ben's friend, was the one who found them and punched Josh in the face. They got in this huge, stupid fight."

"Oh," I muttered, recalling Blake's black eye.

"And after that, _Ran_ took Lanie home, or at least everyone thinks they left school together because..." Megs went on, but I wasn't really listening.

I dropped the brush into the bottle and glanced at the door. Mia grabbed Josh by the collar and kissed him in a grand and overly dramatic way before pushing him away and slamming the door in his face.

_Okaaaay._ Turning away from South Louisiana High's version of _The Young and the Restless_ , I lifted the brush and began painting Megs' pinky fingernail as I tuned back in to what she was saying.

"... so now Mia's desperate to make everyone think she doesn't care that her boyfriend ran off with Lanie. But it's just an act; Mia's so in love with Ran it's sad. It's so totally obvious," Megs said.

_Oh._ I paused mid-brushstroke and thought back to what I'd noticed yesterday. Ran definitely had a thing for Lanie, anyone could see that. But, for some reason, he stayed with Mia.

"Hm," I muttered, noticing that I'd accidently smudged some nail polish on Megs' finger. As I wiped the smudge away, Winnie's "slut" explanation came to mind... " _There's no such thing as a slut. There are normal people who've been neglected and abused."_

"I bet Mia feels neglected and screwing around with Josh is her way of making herself feel more whole," I said as I eradicated one last, nearly indiscernible trace of the smudged polish. "I hate to admit this, but I understand exactly how she feels."

"What do you mean?" Megs asked. Something about her voice sounded extra-casual and I glanced at her. Instead of looking at me, Megs blew on her nails, careful to avoid my eyes. That was when I realized that even though I talked to Megs nearly every day, I rarely let her in on my private stuff... it was like Ben told me, "you don't share your _real_ self..." I watched her steal a peek at me and then winced as she met my eyes.

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, scrunching her nose into an adorable _I'm sorry_ face.

The other day, when I told her I liked Ben, it was the first time I'd ever _really_ told her anything.

Jesus. I was a terrible friend.

"You're not prying," I said, picking up her bottle of nail polish. I imitated Megs' casual demeanor as I secured the top and handed it to her. "The other day, I kissed Ben."

Her jaw dropped, and then she smiled, her eyes sparkling. I waved the bottle of nail polish in front of her. She grabbed it from me and squealed, "Oh my God, Drew! That's _awesome_! Y'all kissed?"

I returned her smile, my cheeks warming as I remembered our moment in my car. "Yeah and he's a surprisingly great kisser. It was amazing, especially the part when he asked me out. But then I... well, I screwed it all up."

"Oh." Her face fell and I marveled at how easily she was able to empathize with my story. _My_ sadness, in Megs' eyes, stared back at me.

I glanced down at my gym shorts and said, "Yesterday, I was in the hallway, messing around with Heath and it got a little too intense and I sort of kissed Heath, like, in front of everyone. I had no idea Ben was right there; he saw the whole thing."

"Drew, that... that sucks," Megs whispered.

"Yeah, it was bad," I agreed, tracing the ugly light blue "S" of the South Louisiana High School lettering on my shorts. "I understand why Ben was mad at me. _I_ was mad at me. I kissed someone I didn't even like." My eyes watered and, blinking quickly, I started as Megs patted my shoulder.

"Did you talk to Ben about it, like _really_ talk?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I think we're sort of okay now, but I don't know if we're just friends or... I don't know."

I met Megs' eyes, wishing I could add, _Hopefully,_ _when I prove to Ben that he's not nuts because there actually is some hella crazy X-Men-ish drama happening in this town, he'll be so grateful he'll give me another chance._ But I kept my mouth shut and turned to stare at the boys' basketball game.

"Well, you _did_ talk to him and you're cool. So, that's good," Megs said, trying to sound cheerful.

Watching the boys play, I scanned the teams and realized that Ran, Mia's boyfriend, wasn't among them. So he wasn't even around to see Mia kiss her scab. Poor Mia.

"Yeah." I sighed. "It was going pretty well until his mother kicked me out of their house."

Megs frowned. "She _kicked you out_?"

"Yep. Her exact words were, 'Kindly remove yourself from my son's bed and-'" I paused when Megs gasped. I grinned. "Me and Ben weren't doing anything except talking and we happened to be sitting _on_ his bed, _over_ the sheets, fully clothed. The woman's just too possessive. She acts more like a jealous ex than a mother."

Megs tilted her head, her eyebrows going up as she leaned towards me. "At least we know it's not really about _you_. Know what I mean?"

"I guess."

She clucked sympathetically. "Well, it's hard not to take it personally, but it really isn't personal. It's just a mindset."

I chuckled. "The mindset of 'crazy'?" Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it: don't take the overly-possessive mother's insults _personally_." I glanced at Megs and she was frowning.

Maybe I sounded kind of harsh. After all, Ms. Morris's husband died and that was why she was this way. __ I cleared my throat and quickly switched gears. "Not that I'm trying to make fun of her. It's not like it's her fault that her husband died. If that had happened to me, I'd probably be a basket case too."

"No, Drew. That's not what I was talking about." Megs pointed to her arm. I looked at her arm and then back at her as she said, "I mean _this_."

"Your arm?" I asked, confused. "I don't get it."

"Oh my God, Drew! _You're black_! I'm saying Ben's mom probably doesn't want him with a black girl!" she exclaimed.

Meg's words hit me like... well, the way a Mack truck that's pulling a Boeing 747 would hit a gnat.

With the wind knocked out of me, I nodded and did a pretty good job of faking nonchalance. "I guess you're right. I keep forgetting that this is the South..."

"I know. It's definitely not L.A.," she replied, her voice gentle. I looked at Megs and the kindness in her eyes told me she could see straight through my nonchalant act. "People around here are pretty race conscious. Most of them aren't mean to your face, but behind your back, they'll say things. And they don't mean it; it's just the way they were raised."

I nodded, thinking of Mia declaring her sentiments about "black hair" and of the way her boyfriend, who obviously lusted after a black girl, refused to break up with Mia and be with the girl he _really_ liked.

"Yeah," I said, my stomach turning. "Back home, it's not perfect either. Like, this one time me and my friends were at a comedy club and the comedian started in on some black jokes and my friends stiffened up because they weren't sure if they could laugh with me sitting right there. None of them were black. So, that was awkward, and... I guess my point is that L.A. isn't perfect either. Things like that happen everywhere." I glanced down at my gym shorts, which suddenly looked uglier than ever.

"So, what'd you do?" Megs asked.

"What?" I looked up, wondering if she meant what I did when Ben's mother told me to leave or what I did at the comedy club.

"When your friends weren't sure how to react, what'd you do?" she asked, looking down at her nails and blowing on them again.

"Those should be dry by now," I pointed out. I thought back to that awful night at the comedy club, remembering the embarrassment I'd felt and quietly said, "I did what Mia's doing right now. I faked it. I laughed because I didn't want to look ..."

"Weak?"

I nodded. "Exactly. That would've made them pity me. And who wants that?"

"Yeah, I probably would've done the same thing." She smiled sympathetically. "But you know with Ben, it's different. His mom might be backwoods, but he isn't. And I bet if she saw how much he likes you, she'd get used to you."

"Despite the hideous color of my skin," I mumbled.

"I know, Drew. Dealing with people like her is annoying, but if you care about someone, you fight for them," Megs said. "If you want Ben, prove it. Fight for him."

I smiled. "You want me to _fight_ his mother? I don't think that would go over too well."

"No, that's not what I mean." Megs chuckled and then lowered her voice. "I mean after school you should go to Ben's house with a gift for Ms. Morris and apologize for sitting on his bed or whatever."

My pride bent, I arched an eyebrow. "You think I should suck up to a racist?"

Megs shrugged. "I think you should fight for Ben."

I BIT DOWN on my bottom lip and glanced at the wicker basket in my hands. It was well-made and so pretty that when the overly-cheerful barista at Coffee Etc's had handed it to me, I'd thought about removing Ms. Morris's pralines from the basket, placing them in a sparkly gift bag from The Dollar General, and keeping the nice basket for myself.

I took a deep breath and fixed my eyes on the spring wreath decorating the Morris's door. Despite yesterday's storm, it remained intact and as hideously perfect as ever. Somewhere in the distance, a bird mimicked a car alarm. Nervously moving forward, I walked to the door and rang the bell.

Hopefully, I was a better actress than that bird. Hopefully, Ms. Morris wouldn't see straight through my fake smiles and pralines. Then again, she might not see me at all, seeing as to her, I was nothing more than a color. The _wrong_ color.

The door unlocked and my heart skipped a beat as I hoped it'd be Ben who'd open it and that he'd tell me his mother wasn't home. But of course when the door opened, I found myself face-to-face with Ms. Morris.

She looked even more upset than she had yesterday. Her face was red, with trails of tears running from her eyes to her double chin and her shoulders shook, moving up and down, as she sobbed. It was as if she was in physical pain.

Holy crap. My annoyance faded and I set the basket down on the doorstep.

"Ms. Morris?" I touched her shoulder and then hesitated. Should I hug her?

She closed her eyes, sobbing, as she unsuccessfully tried to pull herself together.

I leaned forward and wrapped both of my arms around her in a hug. In a matter of seconds, her tears soaked my blouse. I cringed and then felt guilty for cringing because the woman was Ben's _mother_.

Trying not to sound as awkward as I felt, I murmured, "It's okay." Eventually, her sobs subsided and I released her from the hug.

Had something happened to Ben? The thought made me queasy.

Ms. Morris mopped her cheeks with her fingers, and I crouched to pick up the basket.

"I apologize," she said, a waver in her voice as another tear spilled from her left eye. She wiped it away and said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, suddenly feeling like I might cry myself. Without thinking, I offered her the basket. "This is for you."

"Uh, all right... then." She took it and stepped out of the doorway, retreating into their house. I backed away, expecting the door to slam in my face.

"Come on in, Drew," she said, holding the door open.

"Oh." Trying to hide my surprise, I walked into the house and clasped my hands together as she shut the door.

"Have a seat." She turned around and I followed her into their den. Ben and I never used the den. We always hung out in his room and occasionally, if his mother wasn't home, in the kitchen.

I glanced around at the horrible combination of light blue walls and violet trim and took a seat in a dark brown chair with a soft cushion. Ms. Morris placed the wicker basket on a coffee table between us and planted herself on couch across from my chair.

"It smells like you brought pralines," she said, clearing her throat.

"Yes," I replied, placing my hands in my lap and trying to look as polite as possible.

"Thank you," she said, her gaze moving from the basket, to me. I expected her to look me up and down, a critical glare in her eye as she analyzed my clothing - that was what she usually did. But that time, she looked me in the eye and sighed, shaking her head as more tears eked out. "I let them take him. I didn't know what to do and I let them take him."

_Let them take him_?

My stomach twisting with nerves, I watched her bring her palm to her eyes and cover half of her face while she cried.

What did she mean?

I left my seat and moved to stoop at her side as I asked, "Ms. Morris, did something happen to Ben?"

She nodded.

_Oh God._

"What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"He wouldn't sleep last night. He kept talking nonsense about aliens and conspiracies, just like his father... I didn't know what else to do." Her lips trembled, but she forced the words out. "I don't know if you're aware of what happened to my husband, Ben's father. Swamp Rose is a small town, word gets around." She spoke bitterly. "When I married him, he didn't have a history of mental illness. He was a brilliant man, a biological scientist. And, more importantly, he was kind and gentle and just the best man you'd ever meet."

She glanced at me, like she wanted to make sure I understood what she meant.

I nodded. "Just like Ben."

Ms. Morris nodded and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. "Exactly. But everything changed when he got this new job at a local research facility. I think the work overloaded him and triggered an illness we didn't even know he had. He started hearing voices and talking nonstop about conspiracies and aliens. It got so bad that eventually he didn't even know who I was. And then he..." She took a deep breath and turned away from me. I found myself reaching for the older woman's hand, tightly clasping it in mine. She spoke quietly. "And then we lost him. That's why I've always been so careful with my boy. I won't let the same thing happen to him." Ms. Morris met my eyes, her flow of tears temporarily ceased as she said, "That's why I brought him to a counselor at Serenity Bayous."

She brought him to _the local mental hospital_?

I blinked, listening as she went on. "...and they told me he was dangerous, that he'd have to stay."

"Dangerous?" I repeated. "Ben's not dangerous."

Still holding my gaze, she took a shaky breath. "They told me if I didn't leave him there for care, they'd call Child Protective Services and have me investigated for neglect."

Furious, I let go of her hand. _Child Protective Services? That sounded way too extreme._

"I didn't know what to do," Ms. Morris said, a high-pitched pleading note in her voice. "Under the circumstances, it seemed like the best decision."

I nodded. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, I'm not quite myself. I just got back from bringing his medical records to that place and I'm a bit of a mess..." Her voice trailed off.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, astounded by how normal my voice sounded when what I really wanted to do was already be on the phone with my lawyer, ordering him to slap Serenity-freaking-Bayous with a big fat lawsuit.

"No." She offered me a hesitant smile. "Thank you for the candy."

"You're welcome." I reached into my jacket pocket for my keys and returned her smile. "I'll let you get some rest, and I hope you don't beat yourself up about this. You're a good mother. Ben really loves you."

Her eyes softened and as she pursed her lips, I could tell she was going to start crying again.

"Thank you," she whispered, wiping her eyes and standing. "I'll show you out, dear."

Dear? Maybe she didn't completely hate me. Toying with my keys, I moved to the door and stepped aside as she unlocked it.

Ms. Morris turned to me, a timid look in her eyes that reminded me of the way Ben sometimes looked at me. "Thank you, Drew..." She started to say something more, but closed her mouth.

"You're welcome. I'm here for whatever you and Ben need." I smiled and headed for my car.

"Drew, wait!" she called after me. I turned around to find Ms. Morris making her way towards me. Once we were face-to-face she pulled me into a hug and whispered, "I'm sorry I made assumptions about you."

As we came out of the hug, she continued talking, but her eyes were downcast, "I didn't mean to seem so... well, um, in Swamp Rose we're a bit stuck in the past. But I don't want to be that way. That would hold Ben back. And my son is lucky to have such, um, such... diverse...friends, like you."

I pasted on a smile and tried to think of something to say. "Well, I'm lucky to be friends with Ben, he's wonderful."

"And he says you are too," she said, her face reddening. "Promise me you'll visit him while they've got him in that place."

"Of course I will," I assured her. She smiled and, in the midst of my anger, I could've kissed Megs for giving me advice that actually worked. I gave Ms. Morris's hands a squeeze and said, "In fact, I think I'm going to go visit him right now."

#

Serenity Bayous' reception area was endlessly white. The tile floors were white, the furniture was white, and even the air smelled white with bleach; the effect was fairly creepy.

"I'll need your license too," ordered the middle-aged brunette behind the glass window of the check-in desk where I'd signed my name.

I fished my license out of my wallet and handed it through the hole in the bottom of the glass window. I gave the glass a second look and wondered if it was bulletproof.

I sighed, hating the idea of Ben being stuck in some dump that had bulletproof glass.

"Thank you," the orderly said as she slid me a visitor's badge. "You'll need to wear this so it's visible at all times. But even with this badge, you are not allowed to access restricted areas. An orderly will escort you to the patient reception room where you will be able to speak with one patient, supervised, for a duration of five minutes. Please do not give any Serenity Bayous patient gifts or accept gifts from a Serenity Bayous patient. We also ask that you not attempt to access any part of Serenity Bayous without the accompaniment of your assigned orderly. These regulations are set for your own protection. May I have your verbal acknowledgment of and agreement to adhere to our protocol?"

Wow. I bet she didn't know she'd have to memorize an entire monologue when she signed up for this crappy job.

"Sure," I agreed, while the lady looked at me as if I were about as interesting as a pot of boiling water. I clipped the badge to the collar of my jacket and glanced around for my "assigned orderly." But I didn't see anyone who looked like an orderly, or for that matter, anyone at all.

While I waited for my guide, I took the opportunity to further observe my surroundings. Serenity Bayous' outside entrance had come across as modern, even welcoming. Its pretty Louisiana Alyssum bushes, neatly trimmed and well cared for, were situated on either side of the four glass front doors. Upon entering, you'd look left to find a security officer sitting in front of a large desk. Straight ahead was a gray door below a sign that said, "Staff only." To your right, you'd see another set of glass doors with a sign that said, "Visitor Check In/Reception Area." This was the area in which I now found myself.

I stared at my obscenely white surroundings, which included two plush white couches and three comfortable white chairs, all neatly set up around a fake fireplace. To the right of the waiting area was a set of double doors, and to the right of the double doors.

The double doors opened and I straightened, assessing the tall ginger who'd stepped into the waiting area. He wasn't all that bad looking despite the fact that he was clad in hideous green scrubs and wire-rimmed glasses. At his waist several billion key cards hung from a chain, and they hit each other with his every step as he fixed his eyes on me and headed my way.

My gaze returning to his hair, I suppressed a smile. I'd always had a thing for gingers and this guy's hair was so red it was nearly orange.

"Ms. Everett?" he asked, approaching.

"That's me," I said, wondering if Orderly Ginger would be the kind of guy who was nice to Ben or someone I'd have to include in my lawsuit against Serenity Bayous. I crossed my arms and ditched any potential trace of a smile. "So, are you my assigned orderly?"

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "My name is Tim and I'll be escorting you to the visitation area. Welcome to Serenity Bayous."

My phone vibrated in my purse. "Excuse me for just a second."

While I opened my purse to retrieve my phone, Tim said, "If you don't mind, you'll also need to leave your phone with our receptionist before we go to the visitation area."

Did these people mistakenly think they were guarding the freaking White House?

"My phone too? You've got to be kidding me." I looked at Tim, waiting for him to smile and say, "Just joking" or something.

"I'm not kidding, ma'am," he said, his expression grave. "But please feel free to complete your call here in the lobby."

"Well, thanks for that." Rolling my eyes, I turned away from him and checked my phone to see who was calling.

Our housekeeper's name and picture lit up my cell and I immediately answered. "Hey, Mona, what's wrong?"

"I'm just calling to check on you because it's after six and I hadn't heard from you," she replied. "You all right?"

Aw. A smile formed on my lips. She was actually calling just to check up on me? I didn't even know that was a thing. I thought that was just something sitcom writers made parental characters do.

Completely flattered, I said _,_ "I'm okay. I'm visiting a friend, but I'll be home soon."

"All right then," she went on. "I assumed you were still going to Amelia Hearth's party at Alyssum Studios this evening, so I went ahead and laid out a dress for you ..."

Holy crap! __ I cringed, realizing I'd completely forgotten about Amelia's gala.

"I forgot. And I don't even have a date anymore... but if I don't go Amelia's, she's going to kill me." Missing an Amelia Hearth Invitation-Only Party was a huge no-no for a young actress.

"Well, you can always just show your face and then leave," Mona suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll do that," I agreed. "Thanks for reminding me; you're a lifesaver."

"That's what I'm here for. Oh! I'm coming, Clara!" Mona shouted, which made me wince. She lowered her voice and said, "Your sister's calling for me. I'd better get downstairs and see what she needs."

"Okay, I'll be home in about an hour. Bye." Hanging up, I turned to the receptionist's window, and set my phone in the hole beneath the window. "Here's my phone. I trust you'll keep it safe."

"Yes, ma'am. Of course," she replied without so much as a glance at me or my phone. I rolled my eyes.

As soon as I faced Tim, he turned to the double doors and said, __ "Please, follow me." A fusion of nerves and fear suddenly took hold of me. I really hoped Ben was okay.

I pushed the bad feeling aside, or at least tried to, as I took a deep breath and followed the tall orderly. On the other side of the double doors, I found myself in a gleaming white corridor - big surprise - that smelled of bleach and pine.

We walked in silence and I glanced around. I guess I'd expected to pass dingy looking patient rooms where I'd hear insane laughter and crazy people talking to themselves about how they were going to get revenge on Batman. But being that I don't live in Gotham City, and that real life isn't a Batman movie, the only sound I heard was the gentle hum of Serenity Bayous' air conditioner blowing above us. Also, the halls weren't lined with patient rooms, instead they were lined with large, framed portraits.

We were walking too fast for me to stop and look at every single picture, but I managed to gather that most of the portraits were of distinguished-looking men who all, for one reason or another, seemed hellbent on staring into their audience's very soul. They were more than a little creepy.

"So, Tim," I said as we passed the most unusual portrait among the bunch, an arrogant-looking woman whose name, according to the inscription beneath it, was Dr. Jayne Mire.

"Ma'am?" The red-headed orderly slowed in stride and ever so slightly turned to me.

"You seem like a fun-loving fellow," I deadpanned. "What makes an outgoing and trendy guy like you decide to work in a mental hospital?"

At the end of the hall were another set of white double doors, which I assumed we'd pass through. But Tim came to a halt and turned left where there was a door that I hadn't noticed.

He reached for one of his keycards and said, "I like to help people." With this, he slid the card through the reader and a tiny green light appeared on the edge.

"Serenity Bayous helps people?" I tried to keep the challenge out of my tone.

He opened the door and a buzzing noise sounded. Turning to me, Tim looked me in the eye and said, " _I_ help people." He stepped aside and held the door open for me.

A wave of nerves shot through me and, clutching my purse, I entered the eight-by-eight-foot room in which two simple folding chairs sat, facing each other.

I turned to Tim. "I love the way you guys decorated in here. Very stylish."

Ignoring me, he closed the door and I shifted on my feet, my gaze going to another door directly across from me, which was heavy and bolted.

"Please have a seat." Tim gestured to the nearest folding chair. "Mr. Morris will be escorted through that door in just a moment."

I eased into a folding chair and as soon as my rear touched the metal, the heavy door across from me opened. It emitted a loud buzzing noise that was nearly drowned out by the many screams coming from the hallway behind the closed door.

My heart pounded as I stood and ignored Tim's sharp request to, "Have a seat, Ms. Everett."

Two large men who were dressed in green scrubs dragged Ben into the room.

"Oh my God," I whispered, unable to believe what I was seeing.

Half-asleep and clad in a long hospital gown, Ben was handcuffed like some sort of criminal, and barely able to walk on his own.

My hands shook with anger. What had these people done to him?

"Please sit down." Tim touched my shoulder and I lowered myself to sit on the very edge of my chair.

The two orderlies shoved Ben into the folding chair opposite mine and my stomach lurched. Just wait until I talked to my lawyer. I'd have this place on every news channel in the country.

I cleared my throat and the two orderlies looked at me.

"Uncuff him," I said between clenched teeth.

"Sorry, ma'am, we can't do that," replied the one on Ben's right, his voice unnaturally deep, as if he were under the impression that a cheap imitation of Darth Vader would scare me.

"My name is not 'ma'am.' My name is Drew Everett and if you're too much of an ignorant hick to know who I am, then know this: I'm very rich and very powerful." I kept my voice calm and pretended not to notice Ben looking up at the sound of my name. "In an hour's time, I can have you both fired. In a week's time, I can have this entire facility shut down and you personally investigated for your role in what goes on here. So, unless you relish the thought of losing the pathetic semblance of a life that you currently enjoy, uncuff _the minor_." I locked eyes with Orderly Darth Vader and he glanced at his counterpart.

"Go ahead and uncuff him," Tim said from behind me. "It's okay."

I shifted my purse to my other shoulder and glanced at Ben while they uncuffed him. __ The fear in his eyes twisted my soul. I wanted to scream... maybe even throw a chair, but I bit my lip, sat up straighter, and forced my voice into my best imitation of calm. "Ben, how are you?"

He looked as high as Clara had yesterday, and I could only imagine what kinds of drugs these idiots had shot him up with. Even so, Ben looked at me and swallowed hard as he whispered his answer. "Thirsty."

Biting down harder on my bottom lip, I realized that I was holding my breath. _Keep it together, you have to keep it together if you're going to get him out of here._

"I'll make sure they give you some water," I said and, glancing down, I saw Winnie's silver ring winking back at me. What else could I ask him in front of these orderlies?

Ben's chair creaked and I looked up at the noise. He was leaning forward and the orderlies, their eyes narrowed, watched his every move.

"What is it?" I asked, my pulse racing.

"Drew," he whispered, breathing harder. "Drew, if something happens to me-"

"Nothing's going to happen to you," I interrupted, my hands curling into fists. "Except me getting you out of here - _that's_ definitely going to happen."

"Lissstennn." His voice slurred and his right eye twitched. "T-to me. Please."

_Oh my God._ "I'm listening."

"I saw things," he whispered. "In here..." The huge orderly just beyond Ben's right shoulder stepped forward. I glanced at the man, but Ben's voice pulled my gaze back to him. "There's more of them. They fly, they have lightning. They look like us... but... stronger... and Amelia Hearth, she-"

The orderly placed a firm hand on Ben's shoulder and said, "Your five minutes are up."

My mind was a tornado of thoughts, Ben's slurred phrases crashing into each other as they spun around my head... _They fly, something about lightning, and Amelia Hearth? What?_

"It hasn't been five minutes," I said while the two orderlies returned those stupid cuffs to Ben's wrists.

"I s-saw her eyes ..." Ben slurred, his voice weak. One of the orderlies pulled Ben out of the folding chair and pushed him against the wall.

I bolted from my chair. "Get off him!" I shouted. "Stop!" Before I knew what was happening, Tim was pulling me back.

"You have to stay calm," Tim said, his voice quiet in my ear.

I tried to push him away, but the ginger was stronger than he looked and my feet slid against the floor as he dragged me back to the door on our side of the room. One of the orderlies held Ben against the wall while the other pulled out a needle.

"Stop!" I screamed, elbowing Tim in the chest. He grunted and his grip on my arm momentarily slacking, I seized my opportunity and ran for the folding chair. Picking it up, I aimed it at the orderly holding the needle, but before I could throw the chair, it was slammed out of my hands. It crashed to the floor while Tim grabbed my wrists and spun me to face him. I strained to turn and get a view of what was happening to Ben. I gasped as one of the meathead orderlies jammed the needle into Ben's flesh.

"I'm trying to help you," Tim whispered.

"No, stop!" I tried to push him away, but dude was basically a human straitjacket.

"Unless you want to end up in a ward with your friend," Tim quietly said as he looked me in the eye. "We need to leave this room _calmly_. Okay?"

As furious as I was, his warning registered. My eyes filled and I hissed, "What is this place? What do they do to people?"

I wasn't going to cry. __ I blinked back my tears as the other door's buzzer sounded and the two orderlies dragged Ben back into the hallway that was full of screams. __ I didn't care what it took, I was getting Ben out of here _today_.

"All you need to know is that Serenity Bayous isn't the kind of place you or your friend need to be," Tim whispered. When the door closed behind the two orderlies, he loosened his grip on my wrists. "I can help you get your friend out of here, but you can't make scenes like that."

"Get off me," I snapped, pushing him away.

Tim released me and narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh. "Okay, then. Guess you don't want my help." He shrugged, turned to the door, and used one of his keycards to open it.

I had to get Ben out of here, but I couldn't even think clearly. The buzzer sounded and I stooped to grab my purse from the floor as I said, "I _do_ need your help. But I'm not going to, like, sleep with you - just so we're clear."

"I never said I-"

"So, you'll have to take money," I continued. "How much do you want?"

"How much do I want?" he repeated, shutting the door and turning back to me.

"Yes," I said, as I tried to erase the mental image of one of the orderlies thrusting a needle into Ben's arm. "I'll gladly pay you, just tell me how mu-"

"First of all," Tim interrupted and pointed to the ceiling. "What do you see up there?"

I glanced up and a white ceiling stared back. "How about you just tell me?"

"No cameras. The visitation room is Serenity Bayous' one unmonitored room. So, once we open that door," he said, nodding to the padlocked door, "this conversation _ends_. Got it?"

I nodded.

"And since you asked," he replied, a smile on his lips. "I want fifteen grand. I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem for someone as 'rich and powerful' as you."

Fifteen thousand dollars? That wouldn't even cover the cost of a decent car. This guy must have been crazy poor.

"Of course that's not a problem," I said, my eye twitching as I thought about the way Ben's body had gone limp just before he was dragged out of the room. __ "What's your plan? How are we going to break him out?"

Tim shook his head. "Not 'we.' If I get caught busting one kid out, I won't be around to help the others. That's something I can't risk right now."

The others? __ My blood ran cold. "How many kids do they have? And _why_? Why do they-"

"The less you know, the better. Trust me," Tim said, cutting me off as he held up his hand. His voice softening, he said, "What's going to happen is I'll 'lose' my keycards and you'll find them. The cards will grant you access to nearly every room in this building..." His voice trailed off and he frowned.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I just realized you'll also need a pair of scrubs," Tim said with a sigh. "You can rent a pair at-"

"No, I don't have time for that." I opened my purse and grabbed one of my credit cards. "There's fifty grand on this. Take it and do whatever you want with the money, but first you have to give me your scrubs."

"Uh," Tim reached for the card, hesitated, and then retracted his hand. "I need my clothes, for obvious reasons."

"You can buy new clothes with this fifty thousand dollars I'm giving you." I waved the card just under his freckled nose. It took everything I had not to scream at him to take the money and hand over his scrubs. "I'm not leaving without Ben and to get him, I need your keycard _and_ your scrubs. So take them off and give them to me."

"That's not a good idea." He shook his head. "A, I can't just walk around in my boxers and B, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to bust your friend out right after what happened just now. They're going to put extra security on him. You should at least wait until tomorrow."

"No." Panic gripped my chest. I lowered my voice and took a step towards Tim. His eyes widened as I said, "You saw what they did to him. I can't leave him here for another _second_. Take the money and give me your clothes. I'm not asking."

Tim looked at me for what felt like forever, his eyes burning into mine.

He sighed and pushed the card back into my hands as he said, "I have an idea, but we'll need to move fast for it to work. If you're not back in the reception area in twenty minutes, they're going to come looking for us both. And that won't end well."

I dropped the rejected credit card back into my purse. "Okay," I said as I watched him unhook the thin chain that his keycards were connected to.

He tossed the keycards my way. Surprised, I scrambled to catch them and completely missed. I picked the fallen keys up from the floor and turned to Tim. "By the way, th-" My voice trailed off as I took in the sight of Tim pulling his scrub top over his head, my gaze going to his defined abs.

Quickly turning around, I peeled off my jacket, my face burning as I said, "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem. Here's the plan..." Tim's voice sounded muffled, but I didn't turn to him because I was taking off my shirt. Throwing my shirt on the folding chair, I unzipped my pants and listened as he continued, "... I'm going to pose as a patient and if anyone asks, you're my CAN."

"Wait," I froze. "This won't work, your coworkers will recognize you."

"Trust me," he said. "They won't. Serenity Bayous has ways of keeping the Ward B staff from connecting with each other... from even remembering each other."

"How?"

"Drugs in the food and monthly injections that they tell us are flu shots or special immunizations from contagious diseases that certain patients supposedly have. So far, I've managed to avoid the food and the shots."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, so anyway, you'll walk me to the showers, which are super easy to get to. You open the door, turn left and keep going, and we'll run right into them. Then you'll need to...to, um-"

I bet Mr. Six Pack was stealing a peek. Freak.

"Dude, toss me your scrubs and _turn around_ ," I ordered, rolling my eyes. I jumped, startled, as something soft hit me in the back of the head. Realizing that it was his scrub top, I quickly slipped it on.

"You know, you could've left your clothes on under my scrubs," he pointed out. "Since they're probably big on you anyway."

_Oh_. Sighing at my stupidity, I pulled the scrub top back off and reached for my shirt. "Don't flatter yourself. Your clothes aren't _that_ big on me. So, after I bring you to the showers, what do I do?"

"You'll leave me there and then you'll go to Ben's room, which you have to pass the showers to get to anyway. It's 1020 or 1021 - I can't remember which one - and at that point you've got to figure out how you're going to just waltz out of the building with him," Tim declared as I zipped my pants back up. "I'm tossing you my pants now."

The scrub bottoms hit the back of my thighs and turning around, I picked them up from the floor and pulled them on over my own pants. Careful not to look at Tim, I focused on tightening the drawstrings as I asked, "What about you? How are you going to get out of here without your keycards or scrubs? They're bound to notice a half-naked guy trying to sneak out of the building."

"The showers are near our lockers. I can change there and, if not, there's also a back exit and I can get out that way. But, if I were you, I'd worry about myself. Not me."

I stuffed my jacket into my purse and slung the bag over my shoulder. Tim sounded pretty sure of his plan. "Seems like you've done this before."

"Like I said, I help people. It's the only reason I work here."

I nodded. Whatever Tim was, his plan had better work. Taking a deep breath, I turned to him and asked, "Ready?"

"No. You should attach that chain to your scrubs." He paused and bent down to untie his shoes. My gaze went to his tousled red locks as he said, "Put your sandals in your purse and wear my shoes. There's no way an orderly would come to work in sandals."

"Okay." I slipped off my sandals.

"One more thing..." He hesitated, and I looked up as he kicked one of his sneakers my way. "I've heard rumors about a new drug they're testing on some of the patients. It's called Trip TSN. If your friend is one of those patients, this could get a little more complicated."

Trip TSN? __ I stepped into Tim's shoe while he kicked the other one off and slid it my way. He looked up, briefly meeting my eyes as I asked, "How complicated?"

"Uh..." Standing, he put his hands on his hips and lowered his gaze to his shoes as I pulled them on. "From what I understand, Trip TSN is a DNA-reconstructing serum. Done right, it can give a person really weird abilities, but gone wrong, it's... deadly."

Deadly? __ I froze, my heart thundering in my ears.

"But that probably won't happen to your friend."

"Ben," I said, blinking quickly. "His name's Ben."

Tim nodded and gave me a long look. "Ben's going to be okay," he said, his voice softening. "Especially with you on his side. But just in case, if it _does_ happen, there's a Trip TSN antidote that you'd have to use every bit of your 'riches and power' to get to."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Let's just say it's with some pretty extraordinary people."

"Extraordinary people?" I repeated, shaking my head. "What does _that_ mean?"

"I don't even know what to call them. They're not completely human... at least I don't think they are."

"Are you saying they're mutants?" I gave him a look.

Tim glanced at me and paused before he said, "You know what? Never mind all that. I doubt Ben's a Trip TSN subject."

I nodded, but my movements were slow as I tried to process the insanity that Tim had just shared with me.

"Hey." He took a step towards me and gently clapped a hand on my shoulder. The touch brought me out of my head and I met his dark eyes. "We should go. Ready?"

I glanced at the bolted door, which, as soon as we opened it, would reveal not only the screams of mistreated and forgotten patients but, a world of secrets. I had to do this. For Ben.

"Yes." Brushing off the front of my scrubs, I straightened and said, "I'm ready."

#

I _t stinks._ I scrunched up my nose and tightened my grip on Tim's wrists as I loudly ordered him to keep moving. This was for the sake of two orderlies we'd just passed. They were wrestling a screaming patient into his room. While the man's screams were unnerving, they weren't nearly as unnerving as the smell of urine, body odor, and vomit that surrounded us.

This hallway's walls, a far cry from the pristine white of Serenity Bayous' front entrance, were sickeningly green - and they appeared to not have been cleaned in at least twelve thousand or so years. Beneath my feet, Tim's sneakers kept sticking to the dirty floor and I felt bad for him having to walk on it in his bare feet.

"I killed them! I killed them all! I'll kill you too!" a voice shouted from one of the rooms.

I stilled, eyes wide.

"Don't stop," Tim quietly urged.

Quickly pulling myself together, I picked up my feet and glanced back at the bolted room that the shouting was coming from. My gaze went to the bolt. _Locked_. Sighing in relief, I turned forward and murmured, "How can anyone stand to work here?"

"When you're not rich and powerful, you do what have to," he whispered.

"That's what everyone does," I retorted and winced as two orderlies ran, full speed, towards us. "Oh my God, we're dead." I started to turn around when Tim grabbed my wrist.

"Keep walking," he mumbled.

_Please let him know what he's talking about._ I walked along, feigning intense focus on my destination. Tim, meanwhile, released my wrist and hung his head, turning his face away from his coworkers. One of the orderlies, a bulky guy, ran right past me but the other orderly, an overweight woman with short blonde hair, came to a halt as she approached me. "Hey!"

"Yeah?" My mouth went dry, but I looked her in the eye and forced my facial muscles into a relaxed grin.

"Betty escaped again, you seen her?" she asked, briefly glancing at Tim.

"Again? Geez, you've got to be kidding me." I shook my head in pretend disbelief and hoped I wasn't overdoing it. "No, I haven't, sorry."

"All right. What's with this one?" She nodded in Tim's direction. "You get stuck with a streaker?"

"Looks like I did, huh?" I chuckled and continued to walk past her as I shouted over my shoulder, "I'm bringing him to the showers."

"Oh, well you might have to wait a few minutes. When I was back there, they were clearing out to hose Monster down, and you know how they are about us being around for that," she called before taking off down the hall.

"Great," I heard Tim mutter.

"Monster?" I whispered.

He sighed. "Change of plans. You can't walk through the showers right now. With Monster there, that'd be suicide."

"Why?"

"Monster's... well, just trust me," Tim spoke quickly. "When you get to the fork just ahead, instead of turning left and going to the showers, use your keycard to access the door on the right, go in, look for the exit, and get out of here. You can't get your friend out today."

"But I _have_ to!" I exclaimed, squeezing Tim's wrist.

"Actually, if you're dead, you can't do anything. And you being dead is what's going to happen if you end up tangling with Monster. Now, turn right here," he whispered.

I wanted to scream, but I took a steadying deep breath instead. I looked ahead and spotted the sign that said showers. To its right, was the second option, a padlocked door that lead to Serenity Bayous' parking lot - this was the option Tim wanted me to take.

Megs said that when you loved someone, you fought for them. And Ben's room was just past those showers. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, my decision was made.

I released Tim's and headed for the showers.

"Drew, no," Tim hissed from behind me. "Don't go in there!"

I ignored him, slipped around the corner, and entered a dimly lit area that smelled of mildew. Shower stalls lined the walls, each of them dripping and stinky. Beyond the showers was the hall that, according to Tim, led to Ben's room.

Unfortunately, there was a light on in the very first shower stall.

Lightly biting down on my bottom lip, I moved forward and a low growl emerged from the stall.

My breath caught in my throat and the blonde orderly's words came to mind. " _They were clearing out to hose Monster down..."_

What if she had been referring to _an actual monster_?

My blood ran cold and my knees buckled, but I forced them to carry me forward. All the more reason for me to get Ben out of this place.

"Ahhhh!" A man's scream came from the occupied shower stall and my heart stopped, as did my feet. A thunderous growl shook the floor beneath me and an orange burst of flames shot out from the stall.

Okay. So, maybe Tim was right. Maybe this was a bad idea. __ I backed away. On the other end of the hallway, a steady stream of workers, wearing face shields and gripping fire extinguishers, ran to the stall and worked to put the fire out.

I turned around and nearly screamed when an old woman emerged from one of the shower stalls that I'd thought was empty. The woman's skin was pasty white, as if she hadn't seen the sun in months, and dark circles filled the puffy bags under her hollow black eyes. Her matted gray hair was sticking up and pointing in every direction. She wore a gown like Ben's; and she stared me down with unsettling intensity.

Jesus.

I backed away as she said, "Don't be afraid of Adam. He's not a monster. He's just a boy."

Tim was definitely right. I should come back tomorrow. I spun around and bumped into Tim who grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the showers.

"Looks like you met Betty," he said, releasing my hand as we approached the padlocked door that, had I listened to Tim, I would've gone through earlier. "The keycard - hurry."

My hands trembling, I pushed the cards towards him. "Which one?"

He grabbed a card with a blue strip on its edge and slid it through the reader. The door buzzed open and Tim stepped in front of me as he placed his hands behind his back and whispered, "I'm your patient again. If anyone asks, I was caught hiding in the showers to avoid transport to Alyssum Studios."

Alyssum Studios? That was to Amelia Hearth's multimillion dollar production company.

"Why would a mental patient be transferred to Alyssum Studios?" I asked.

"That's a long story we don't have time for. Come on, Drew. Hurry."

"Okay, okay," I muttered, grabbing Tim's wrists. I pushed him through the door and upon entering the poorly lit room, heard a familiar voice that stopped me dead in my tracks.

There were certain things that an actor would always remember - and foremost among said unforgettable memories, was the voice of the first Academy Award-winning director they had been fortunate enough to work with.

"... my contribution to this facility is what keeps it running!" Amelia Hearth yelled. I couldn't see her because there was a dingy gray wall between us, but I'd know that voice anywhere. "So, give me the serum, or I will take it by force."

"Keep moving, Drew," Tim whispered.

"I can't," I said, backing away. "That's Amelia Hearth and she knows me. If she sees me..." Actually, there was no "if" about it, the woman was _a director_ , meaning she noticed everything and the second I walked beyond this wall, she would recognize me.

"Then we'll crawl behind the crates," Tim quietly suggested, nodding to a small stack of crates just beyond the wall. The crates were lined up, one after the other, and stopped just short of the exit ahead. "We have to get out of here, now."

At the urgency in his voice, I took his suggestion and dropped to my knees. But I paused between the first two crates, which made Tim bump into me.

"Sorry," I whispered as I peered through the crack between the crates, hoping to see exactly where Amelia was.

I didn't see her, but I could hear her speaking. From what I could see, we seemed to be in a circular room with high ceilings, terrible lighting, and a lingering stench that reminded me of the way our kitchen smelled after my mother, on one of her drug trips, had tried to warm her slippers in our microwave. The exit was to our left and in the center of the room was a huge metal storage unit with a padlocked door. It sounded as if Amelia was on the other side of the storage unit.

"Ma'am," a calm, male voice said. "Dr. Hawke is busy at the moment, but as I'm sure you know, the last of the serum has been stolen."

"But don't you have anything else? An extra? Or a different strain?" Amelia shouted, a pleading note in her voice.

"I apologize, but we don't." The man hesitated before adding, "And even if we did, Dr. Hawke has given us strict instructions to share nothing more with you. We're aware of your breach in contract-"

The man stopped speaking and I heard a groan followed by a loud thud. The sound of high heels clicking against the cement floor echoed against the room's high ceilings and all at once, Amelia Hearth was visible.

Though she was clad in a stylishly low cut white blouse and high-waisted Valentino skirt, she looked scary. Her mascara had run, leaving black streaks that lined her cheeks, and sweat stains marred her delicate blouse... but that wasn't the scariest thing about her appearance. My heart pounding, I stared at Amelia's _glowing golden eyes_. They pierced the room's darkness as she marched towards the exit, her cell phone at her ear.

"Grant," she hissed into the phone. "This is my fifth voice message. How is it that you're fearless enough to thwart my strategy, yet too cowardly to take my phone calls?" She threw open the door. "I know what you've done, Grant, and I hate to threaten you, but..." Amelia's voice faded as the door swung shut behind her.

My breath caught in my throat. Grant Carr was Amelia's boyfriend. So I guessed that was who the ominous voice message was for. But, much more importantly, why was Amelia Hearth sneaking around Serenity Bayous, demanding that they give her a serum? And why were her eyes-

Behind me, Tim spoke up, interrupting my internal freak out. "She's gone. Let's get out of here."

To my surprise, I was able to reply, "Okay." But the rest of my body remained frozen. So, I just sat there staring at the door and recalling Amelia's glowing eyes while Ben's slurred ramblings came to mind. _"They look like us... but... stronger... and Amelia Hearth, she-"_

My God. I took a shaky deep breath. Ben had been trying to tell me that Amelia Heath wasn't human.

"Come on, Drew," Tim said, gently taking my hand. "I know this is a lot to take in. But try not to focus on what we just saw and heard, the only thing that matters is getting your friend out of here, all right?"

I nodded and let Tim help me to my feet. He was right. All that mattered was figuring out how I could sneak back into Serenity Bayous and get Ben away from these people.

#

I pulled into the driveway of a small red brick house and glanced around the yard for anything that would identify it as Ms. Karin's home.

"Megs, are you sure it's the _red_ brick one?" I shouted.

"Yeah, it's the only red brick house on the street. It's really plain. There's nothing in the yard, no flowers, no-"

"Okay, that sounds right," I said, putting the car in park. "Sorry to cut you off, but I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

"That's okay. Have fun at that party," she said.

"Thanks, bye." I turned off my car. I glanced at the empty passenger seat and an image of Ben, leaning over to kiss me, filled my mind. The faster I talked to Ms. Karin, the faster she could bust him out of that place and I could _actually_ kiss him.

Pushing Tim's scrubs out of the way, which I'd wadded up and thrown into the passenger seat, I grabbed my purse and jumped out of my car.

After running to Ms. Karin's front door, I rang her doorbell three times in a row. _Please let her be here. Please, please, please ..._ I rang the doorbell again and tried not to panic... _if she's not here, what am I going to do?_

The door swung open and at the sight of Ms. Karin, my jaw dropped. I took a step back.

"Ms. Karin?" I said, looking her up and down. "Wow."

She smiled, her lips filled in with a plum color. Above them, her eyes were defined with black liner and their lids shimmered with silver eye shadow. And her dress...my God, there were actually no words to describe the depth of how amazing it was. Basically, it was a floor-length champagne-colored beauty that sparkled in the evening's diminishing sunlight.

The lines, the style, it had to be _..._ I gasped. "Is that a _Versace_?"

She nodded and blushed. "I figured I'd better not look like a plain old high school teacher at an Amelia Hearth party."

"How did _you_ get an invitation to Amelia's party?" I asked.

She tightened her lips into a thin straight line and shook her head. "It's a long story that I'll probably end up telling you one day, but for now let's just say I made a new friend who insists I go."

She paused, looked at me, and I realized that she was searching my thoughts as her recently shaped eyebrows went up. Tilting her head, Ms. Karin opened the door a bit wider and said, "Since you drove all the way here, come on in for a second. But the answer is no, I'm not going to do it, and you shouldn't have tried to break Ben out. That was _very_ dangerous, Drew."

Groaning, I trudged into her house and paused at the pungent odor I'd stepped into. Geez, it smelled like a Louisiana Alyssum forest in here.

"Well, you and Amelia Hearth have a few things in common," I said, crossing my arms and hoping she'd look up to see the angry expression on my face.

But after locking the front door, Ms. Karin didn't glance my way. Instead, she headed to a hallway on her right. "I've got to finish getting ready, so you have exactly five minutes. If you want to use it telling me what you think Amelia Hearth and I have in common, go right ahead."

I followed her down the carpeted hallway and tried not to lose my temper. "You both _love_ bossing me around, you _both_ have some weird obsession with the alyssum flower, and you both-"

Ms. Karin stopped in her tracks and I bumped into her.

"What's wro-" I started.

She spun around, her eyes. "You were going to say we both have abilities. How do you know that? Did you see her when you went to Serenity Bayous?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "That's why I need your help! There's something _insane_ happening and I think it has a lot to do with Serenity Bayous! Last night, Ben told me he saw some alien girl's eyes glowing in the dark and today when I went to Serenity Bayous to rescue Ben, Amelia was there and it was dark and her eyes were, like-"

"Glowing?" Ms. Karin suggested. With this, she turned around and stepped into the room at her right.

Annoyed by her calm, I followed her. "Yes, and that's not the half of what I saw. Serenity Bayous has some kind of _monster_ they're keeping hidden. Like, I heard it growling, and they're giving Ben these drugs so he won't talk about what he's seen in that place. Ms. Karin...?"

Without a care in the world, the town superhero walked into her closet and nonchalantly called out, "Huh?"

Seriously?

"I need your help! Ben needs your help!" I exclaimed. "They might kill him. You have to help me get him out of there!"

She stepped out of her closet with a pair of strappy heels dangling from her right hand and looked at me with empathy. "I know you want Ben out of there tonight, but there's something else I have to do first."

"What kind of superhero puts going to a party above saving a kid's life?" I demanded. "I watched Ben's orderlies slam him into a wall while he passed out! If you don't help him, _they could kill him_! Ms. Karin, you have to help him!"

"Drew, honey." She set her shoes down on the floor and moved to stand in front of me. Looking me in the eyes, she put both of her hands on my shoulders. "I know about Ben and I won't let anything happen to him, but to really help him and everyone else who's been hurt by what's happening, I have to do something else first. Trust me, I won't let anything happen to Ben."

"So, you'll get him out tonight?" I asked, holding her gaze.

"Just trust me," Ms. Karin said. "I'll take care of everything. Ben included."

I couldn't believe this. Tears crept into my eyes. She was going to let him die and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Drew, I'm not going to let Ben die," she said, her voice slicing into my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes and pushed her hands away from my shoulders.

"Drew?"

I plopped down on the edge of her bed and twisted Winnie's ring around my finger as I tried to come up with a Plan B. Maybe I could get in touch with Tim, or... no, I could just use his keycards to sneak in on my own-

"Hey!" Ms. Karin snapped, and I looked up to find her slipping on her shoes as she scowled at me. "Absolutely not. You're not going back to Serenity Bayous. I said _I'm_ going to take care of Ben and I will. The entire situation is terrifically dangerous and you need to stay as far away from Serenity Bayous as possible. Let me do my job..." her voice trailed off as she headed back into her closet. "The best thing you can do is support Ben's mom. Ms. Morris is worried sick about him and..." Still in her closet, Ms. Karin tossed her purse onto the bed, and it landed next to me with a thud.

She continued to ramble on about how I need to keep an eye on Clara and blah blah while I glanced at her purse, my heart skipping a beat.

Before the idea could fully form in my head, I silenced it and mutely recited the lyrics to an old Coldplay song. The words echoing in my head, I reached into her bag and pulled Ms. Karin's Blackbird out. With this, I quickly slipped it into my own purse.

"...I know it's difficult but - geez Louise, Drew! Were you listening to Coldplay on the way here?"

"Yeah," I replied, straining to keep the lyrics going in my head. "Coldplay helps me stay calm and since this conversation isn't going the way I'd intended, I'm going to go listen to some more Coldplay."

"Hey." Ms. Karin emerged from her closet and looked at me with concern. "I'm going to rescue Ben, trust me. I won't let you down."

I stood as I forced myself to think, _"Guess I'd better trust her_. _"_

"Okay," I said. With this, I left Ms. Karin's house and started off to do what I should've done in the first place - get Ben out of Serenity Bayous _myself_.

#

Three blocks away should be good enough.

I flicked on my right turn signal and swerved into the well-lit parking lot of a gas station that was cleverly called Swamp Rose Gas.

I grabbed Tim's wrinkled scrubs from the passenger seat and pulled his shirt on over my head before reaching for the pants. My car's cell phone sync system nearly scared me to death as it politely announced, "You have a call from Mona. Would you like to answer it?"

"Yes!" I shouted, pulling Tim's pants up around my ankles.

"Drew?" Ms. Mona's voice was loud in surround sound and I winced.

"Hey, Ms. Mona, something came up and I can't go to Amelia's party." I hoisted myself off the seat and pulled the scrub pants up around my hips.

"Oh, but, darling, is that good for your career?" she asked, a touch of alarm in her tone.

"A friend needs my help and he's more important than my career," I replied. "Ms. Mona, I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

"All right," she said, sounding wary. "You be careful and... and _try_ to be good, Drew."

"I will. Bye," I said, hanging up.

I took a deep breath, turned to the passenger seat and fished Ms. Karin's Blackbird out of my purse.

It really did look like a tire gauge. I ran my fingers across the small gadget's smooth black surface. Unfortunately, I knew just as much about using this as I knew about using a tire gauge.

I shoved the Blackbird into the pocket of Tim's scrubs. I'm smart. I'd figure it out.

Upon exiting my car, I glanced around at the people in Swamp Rose Gas's parking lot. Some of them were clearly happy on the Thursday night leading to a long holiday weekend. They hopped out of their cars and nearly skipped their way into the gas station. Others, though, were stony-faced and kept their heads down as they trudged into the station.

Ben always looked up when he walked and so did I, but I was sure we did it for different reasons.

A wolf whistle sounded over my shoulder and I turned around to see three skinny guys in old t-shirts and ratty jeans leering at me, one of them pumping gas into a truck with tires that were far too big for it. The other two guys leaned out of the window and bed of the truck, grinning and staring at me. I rolled my eyes and turned around to resume my trek. I walked like this because I wanted to see how many people recognized me. But I think Ben walked with his held high because he wanted to see everyone and everything around him. He looked for things that someone like me - someone who was self-absorbed - would never bother to notice.

Leaving the gas station's parking lot behind, I started across the empty parking lot of an abandoned building. It looked like it used to be a bank.

I glanced around and noted that, except for the traffic flying past on the busy street to my left, I was pretty much alone. Good. __ I headed farther into the abandoned bank's parking lot and jogged around to the very back of the building. Large oak trees towered above the drive- through. They looked like giant sentinels, each protectively watching over the area.

A chill ran down my spine as I stepped off the cement and onto the grass in the oak tree's territory. I retrieved Ms. Karin's Blackbird from my pocket and took a deep breath as I looked down at the slender device.

A tiny, circular button - something I'd overlooked during my earlier inspection - stared back at me. My heart raced as I positioned my index finger just above the button. When you loved someone you fought for them, meaning you pressed strange buttons on strange devices that looked like tire gauges...

I pressed the button and gasped as the Blackbird grew warm, and then hot, and then even hotter.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, dropping it before it burned me. I watched it fall into the dirt and begin to vibrate. "Okay, maybe this wasn't a good id-"

Before I could complete my sentence, the Blackbird spun in a circle, and ripples cut the air around me. They swarmed through the scenery, bending reality with the small device's every movement.

The oak trees, the bank, _everything_ swam in ripples. It was like I was staring at it from under water.

But I still wasn't moving... oh, duh. I probably needed to pick the thing up.

I did so and suppressed a scream as its heat stung my palms. I instinctively tried to drop the Blackbird, only to find that I couldn't release it. The tiny black gadget emitted a whirring sound and then grew longer in either direction.

I watched, horrified, as the top of the Blackbird split into two sections. Though it no longer burned my hand, I gasped and was instantly consumed with claustrophobia as each half of the recently split top sections wrapped themselves around my wrists.

"Okay. I'm okay. It's fine. Don't freak out..." I muttered and then shrieked as a crawling sensation tickled each of my ankles. I looked down and saw that the bottom half of the Blackbird had also split into two sections and that each of the two sections were wrapping themselves around my ankles.

I shrieked and as my feet were pushed upwards. I looked down and the grass I'd been standing on was now a few yards below me. I was hovering midair!

My tension momentarily morphing into excitement, I grinned. Awesome. I took a deep breath and stretched both of my hands above my head, curious to see what would happen.

Air came gushing at me as I flew straight up towards the sky.

"Ahhh!" I screamed. Realizing that someone might hear me, I quickly shut up and lowered my arms to my side, which sent me headed, feet first, straight back down to the ground.

Oh, so that was how it worked. Realizing that the Blackbird simply follows the direction of the wearer's hands, I pointed both of my hands, zombie-style, in Serenity Bayou's direction.

Relieved and itching with anticipation, I sped above the sidewalk and passing traffic to the mental hospital. Before I knew it, Serenity Bayous' large glass doors were just ahead.

I lowered my arms to my sides and descended to the ground, completely unseen by two male orderlies who laughed at something they must have been joking about as they emerged from the mental hospital's front doors.

My mouth going dry, I eyed the large glass doors. I really hoped what Ms. Karin said about this thing pushing her through solids was accurate.

"Here it goes," I whispered and at the sound of my voice, the two orderlies stopped walking and frowned at each other.

Oops. __ I quickly pointed my hands in the direction of the glass doors and winced as my entire body was catapulted into and through the building. Done.

Relieved, I came to a halt and looked around.

I found myself in the front lobby I'd left just an hour or two ago and the security officer still reading a book at his station. But, this time, everything swam in ripples.

I swung my arms to the right and flew past the overweight receptionist behind the probably bulletproof glass as she stared into space, twirling her hair. My cell phone and license were stashed on a small desk behind her.

I wondered if the Blackbird will let me pick them up.

Chancing it, I lowered myself to the floor, reached for the two items and grasped them. Thank God. __ With this, I quietly stuffed the phone and license into the pockets of Tim's scrubs and then lifted my arms, quickly zooming past the bored receptionist.

I tore through several walls at breakneck speed and before I knew it, I was in the hallway that Tim and I had snuck into earlier. Room 1020 or 1021.

I swerved left, flew along the hall, and past the showers where I'd heard the "monster" and seen the weird old lady. I glanced back at the first stall, where all the commotion with the "monster" had occurred. Its walls were singed with burns and cut by deep claw marks. Geez. What was that thing? __ I gulped, but kept moving.

I glanced at the room numbers to my right. 1019... 1020. I came to a halt. My pulse sped at the prospect of seeing Ben. I stretched my arms to the right, flew through 1020's bolted door, and into an empty room.

The small, gray room's walls rippled around me and just ahead was an unmade bed next to a sturdy metal bench. Well, I guessed he was in 10 _21_.

I turned left and flew into the next room where a man with an exceptionally unhealthy beer belly was struggling to remove his hospital gown. Yeah, that wasn't Ben. I flew out of the room before Beer Belly achieved his goal and I'd have to see something that would give me nightmares. I hurried into the next room. There, a thin woman with an untamed afro sat on her metallic bench, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth.

My stomach lurched and I panicked. Where was Ben!

Realizing I'd just have to search every room until I found him, I clenched my fists and flew into the next room... bald guy banging head against wall... and onto the next... man laughing himself to sleep... and the next... woman carefully pulling strands of hair out of her head as she sang an Irish ballad. I flew through room after room and no Ben. Tears of frustration formed in my eyes.

_Don't cry. Keep looking_. _He's got to be here somewhere._

I took a deep breath and flew through rooms where orderlies played cards, rooms where doctors looked at X-rays, rooms where patients slept, and then I saw him.

_Oh God..._

Lowering my arms, I drifted down and stared at Ben in horror. He was strapped to a bed and muzzled - like a restrained dog. His dark eyes were open as he watched two older men who were in the room with him. Both wore white lab coats as they stood over his bed.

My breath caught in my throat, I glanced at the needle one of them held just above a red drop box with a "hazardous" symbol on its cover.

"The subject's already reacting poorly to the Trip TSN," said the man who didn't hold the needle. He pointed to a monitor near Ben's bed. "Look at the temp and heart rate. He's not going to make it. Prepare the morphine diacetate; we'll have to call it a heroin overdose."

A heroin overdose?

"Alrighty," the other man agreed. He took to whistling a cheerful tune as he dropped the needle into the red box. With this, he turned to a small metal table beside him, picked up a second needle and uncapped it. "I hate to tell Dr. Hawke we've had another failure."

"No worries. She's not the type to hold it against us. She knows how these things go," said the other white coat. He glanced at Ben and ever so briefly met his eyes. Quickly looking away, he frowned and shifted on his feet, suddenly uncomfortable. "Hurry up, Frank," he muttered.

I had to stop them! But, how? What could I do?

"Right-o!" Frank tapped the needle's base with his thumb and middle finger before positioning it above Ben's left arm.

Desperate to do _something_ , I thrust my arms in the direction of the two men, screamed, and flew at them. They jumped, startled. And they shouted as I shoved them backwards, the two of them crashing into the metal table and vitals monitor behind them.

My hands shaking, I flew to Ben's side. His eyes were wide with fright as he glanced around. And he was trembling even worse than I was, his every muscle taking turns jumping and twitching while I unstrapped the muzzle and the cuffs trapping his wrists and ankles.

As he tried to sit up, I grabbed both of his arms and wrapped them around my neck.

"Who - what..." Ben stammered, his bloodshot eyes darting every which way.

"It's me. It's Drew," I said, letting his arms fall back to his side and turning to him.

All of a sudden, Ben went limp and his eyes closed. My stomach turned in horror.

"Ben?" I shouted.

"Am I dead?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

Relieved, I whispered, "No."

"There's someone _invisible_ in here!" Frank shouted.

I glanced behind me and the two white coats were back on their feet. One of them, Frank, was grabbing a walkie from his coat pocket and excitedly summoning, "Level three I.T.I.S. security." Whatever that meant, it didn't sound good.

I quickly resituated Ben's arms around my neck and grabbed the back of his upper thighs, piggyback-ride style, promising myself I wouldn't drop him. With this, I lifted one of my arms, pointed it straight up and nearly _did_ drop Ben as I shot us upwards.

_Oh my God, come on, Drew. You can do this._

Reaffirming my grip on one of Ben's thighs and using my free hand to direct us, I clumsily flew into the hallway outside of the room. But that was as far as I made it. My muscles ached and I lowered myself to the floor, which made Ben slide right off of me.

Red lights flashed around us and an alarm sounded as I struggled to reposition Ben on my back, but he was just too heavy.

"Ben?" I said, turning to him. "I know you can't see me, but I'm right in front of you and if there's any way you can help me, I need you to stand behind me, wrap your arms around my neck and, like, piggyback me. That's the only way I can get you out of here. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Ben said, his voice unsteady.

Just ahead, several orderlies, two of them holding Tasers, ran towards us and the door to the room we'd just left swung open as one of the white coats emerged.

Ben remained slumped against my back, his breathing ragged while he slowly moved his trembling hands along my shoulders. Running footsteps - coming from the opposite end of the hallway - rang in my ears.

"Ben, get on my back _right_ _now_!" I shouted. If we didn't leave in the next few seconds, we were going to be tased by Serenity Bayous scum.

Groaning, Ben wrapped his arms around my neck and I added to the orchestra of human pain by grunting under his weight. Even so, I stretched out both of my hands and shot us to the exit that Tim and I'd used earlier.

Finally outside, I shouted, "Whatever you do, _do not_ let go of me!"

"Got it," Ben muttered.

He sounded so weak. __ My heart sinking, I took us up above the city streets. __ Fortunately, as fragile as Ben was, his stubborn streak came in handy and he managed to hold on while I flew to the gas station.

When we were above my car, I lowered my arms, pointing them at the ground. "We're almost there."

Ben's hands slipped from my neck and I exclaimed, "Not yet, Ben, hang on!"

He muttered something I couldn't quite hear, his breath warm against my ear as he reaffirmed his grip on my neck.

I lowered us to the ground, opened the passenger door, and got Ben situated. With this, I flew into the car and sat in the driver's seat, briefly wondering how the Blackbird was able to decipher between objects that I wanted to interact with and objects that I wanted to fly through. Whoever made this thing was a genius.

I pressed the button that I'd used to start the Blackbird and the ripples around me disappeared.

"There you are," Ben said from beside me.

I turned to _really_ look at him for the first time since we'd left Serenity Bayous. Streaks of sweat ran down his forehead, his normally peaches-and-cream skin was white as paper, and his dark eyes were crossed. "You were invisible."

I nodded. Forcing my voice not to waver, I asked, "Ben, did they inject you with something called Trip-TSN?"

"Yep. So, basically, I'm... dead," he said in between ragged breaths, his eyes uncrossing as he paused to moisten his lips.

No. He was going to be okay. He had to be.

I blinked quickly, hoping to ward off my tears, but it didn't work and they slid down my cheeks. I shook my head. "Don't say that. You're going to be fine."

His eyes softened. "Don't cry. "

"You're going to be fine," I said more forcefully. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and started my car. "I'll take you to the hospital and we'll figure out how to fix you."

"No," Ben said, his voice unexpectedly sharp. I turned to him and he was breathing harder, his chest puffing out and then receding as he sat up. "First, we have to..." His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. He looked like he was going to pass out.

"Ben, you don't have to try and talk. Save your strength and I'll get us to the hospital."

I put my car in drive and Ben's hand covered mine. I glanced at him in surprise. "First," he said slowly. "You get Adam."

"Who's Adam?" I asked.

"He's in Serenity Bayous." Ben's eyelids fluttered as he slid his hand away from mine. "They're going to kill him too... please. Help him."

"Ben, open your eyes," I ordered, fear shuttling through me. "You're fine. You just need to open your eyes."

He opened his eyes and held my gaze. "You've got to go back for Adam. Please."

My thoughts flew to the weird old woman at Serenity Bayous. She said the monster's name was Adam.

The weight of what Ben was asking fell all over me. He was asking me to go back for that fire-breathing monster. I groaned. _Great_.

I turned to Ben, ready to tell him absolutely not. But when I met Ben's eyes, I hesitated.

They stared back at me, windows into his kind and innocent nature, and I sighed through gritted teeth. "Okay." I mumbled. "Fine."

I wrapped my hands around the Blackbird, leaned towards Ben, and gently kissed the side of his face. "I'll be right back, but Adam's not riding in this car. I'm just going to release him and let him go his own way. You got that?"

He smiled. "Okay, Leia."

I started the Blackbird, tried not to scream as its heat nearly burned my hands off, and then shot into the sky.

The faster I got to Adam, the faster I'd get back to Ben.

#

The guard at the front desk was dozing. Apparently, he wasn't a part of the Level Three I.T.I.S. Security Team that the two white coats had summoned.

I moved my arms to my left, flew his way, and lifted the gun from his holster. Considering that Adam's nickname was _Monster_ , I figured I might need a weapon.

After zooming through wall after wall, I finally found myself in front of the padlocked metal storage pod, from which growling sounds were emanating.

Apprehensive, I bit down on my bottom lip and hoped to God that Ben knew what he was asking me to do.

"Don't worry, Adam, I'll get you out!" a gravelly voice exclaimed. It came out of nowhere and startled me so much, I nearly dropped the guard's gun.

Moving in the direction of the voice, I circled the pod and found myself hovering a few feet away from the scary old woman I'd seen earlier. She was tugging at one of the locks on the door. "Adam, I'm going to get you home, I promise. You'll get all the coffee you ever wanted, okay?"

_Alrighty then_. I took a deep breath, ran through the wall of the metal pod, and immediately came to a halt. My heart in my throat, I took in the sight of a ten-foot-tall scaled creature who, despite his reptile-like skin, tail, and hulking muscles, somehow struck me as human.

He growled and sniffed the air before taking a step in my direction. He sniffed again.

I inched away from him and whispered, "Adam?"

He tilted his head, sniffed the air with both of his large nostrils, and emitted a surprisingly high-pitched yelp, the sort of sound you'd expect from a puppy.

"Adam, my friend Ben Morris wants me to help you escape," I whispered. He tilted his head, listening to my every word. "If I help you get out of this place, are you going to go Godzilla on me and destroy Swamp Rose?" Adam growled and a sweeping noise below brought my gaze down to his fat green tail as it moved from left to right across the floor. I took a shaky deep breath. Ben wouldn't have asked me to do this if he didn't trust Adam.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," I said before moving through the nearest wall and out to the pod's padlocked entrance.

The old woman was crouched beside the door and mumbling something about taking it off its hinges. I carefully flew around her, grabbed one of the keycards on Tim's scrubs, and ran one of the many cards through the reader. A red light appeared. Not it.

I scanned card after card, red lights appearing one after the other, Adam growling, and my worry for Ben increasing.

_Come on, please work._ Another red light.

_Last card..._ I scanned the sixteenth and final keycard from Tim's chain. A green light appeared on the reader. __ Relieved out of my mind, I started for the pod's handle. But the elderly woman was in the way.

I gently moved her aside and she jumped as I said, "Excuse me."

She looked around in shock and said, "Is that a Novu?"

Ignoring her weird question, I threw open the pod door and flew to stand near the old woman, just in case Adam went berserk or something.

To my surprise, Adam emerged from the pod rather carefully. He looked left and right until his gaze settled on the old lady and he barred his teeth in what I think was supposed to be a smile. The old lady grinned and hobbled up to him, throwing her arms around his stomach.

Adam hugged her with unexpected gentleness. Completely confused, I watched the woman say, "Can you break down the back door and get us out of here?"

Adam replied with some kind of half-moan, half-growl and headed towards the exit. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled. Shivers crept down my spine as a ball of fire emerged from his huge mouth and consumed the door. At this, I immediately flew out of the room. _Well, since he breathes FIRE... I'm going to assume he can manage the rest of his escape on his own._

I flew to the snoozing security guard and quietly set his gun on his desk. With this, I shot out of the front doors as quickly as possible. Soaring above the streets, I sped in the direction of the gas station when the smell of smoke caught my attention.

The smell was so strong that it made my eyes water, and blinking quickly, I tried to ignore it as my car came into view.

I lowered myself into the car and pressed the Blackbird's power button. While the Blackbird peeled itself from my wrists and ankles, I looked at Ben.

His pale skin had turned gray and his eyes were closed.

My heart pounding, I leaned towards him and whispered, "Ben?"

He didn't answer.

_No, no, no, no...._

I brought my trembling middle and index fingers to his neck, checking for his pulse. Ben opened his eyes and a relieved gasp left my lips but beneath my fingers, his pulse was far too slow to be normal.

"Adam?" Ben whispered, his eyes opening and closing.

"I let him out. He's fine," I said, putting my car in drive with one hand and bringing the other to run my hand along his cheek. "Now, let's get _you_ better."

I sped out of the gas station's parking lot, headed for Swamp Rose General Hospital, grateful that it was only a few miles away. Situated in the newer part of town, the General was just across the street from Amelia Hearth's production company, Alyssum Studios.

I moved into the left lane, hoping to pass a slow-moving Chrysler, and glanced at Ben. He was still sweating and his eyes twitched, opening and closing while he mumbled gibberish.

He was going to be okay, I reassured myself, setting my gaze on the road ahead as I floored the accelerator and returned to the right lane. I had to find a way to counteract the Trip TSN. But how?! I didn't even know what Trip TSN _was_! All I knew was what Tim said about mutants or aliens having the cure to whatever it does. My eyes twitched as I tried to shut off the negative voices in my head.

I swerved into the left lane as a possible solution hit me. Alyssum Studios! Alyssum was right across the street from the hospital, which was where Amelia Hearth is - and she was obviously a mutant and/or alien. This was perfect. I'd bring Ben to the ER and go across the street to find Amelia.

I moved to the right lane, and then hopped back into the left, darting in front of the Jeep. Ben made a groaning noise and I flipped on my hazard lights.

Amelia would know what to do. And if she said she didn't, I'd... I'd threaten to out her as a mutant and she'd _have to_ find a way to cure Ben. It would work. It was going to work. IT! WOULD! WORK! My thoughts screamed, tumbling all over each other. I stopped for a red light.

My eyes, once again watering from smoke, were really starting to bother me and I swatted at them with the back of my hand. Behind us, a siren blared and I checked my rearview mirror.

A fire truck was headed for the next lane, to turn into Alyssum Studios. I glanced that way and gasped.

Alyssum Studios was covered in flames.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, chills moving through my body. Amelia's party, all those people... _Ms. Karin_ was there. Jesus. My mouth went dry as I glanced down at the Blackbird in my lap. If Ms. Karin was stuck in that fire, she needed the Blackbird.

Behind me, a car honked and I looked up to find that the light had turned green. I gunned the accelerator and sped to SRG's emergency entrance.

In the ER's driveway, I put my car in park, jumped out, and ran around to Ben's side. In my peripheral, I caught sight of a man in scrubs wheeling an empty wheelchair through the doors.

"Hey!" I shouted, throwing open the passenger door. When the man turned around, I waved him our way. "Can you help me get my friend out of here? It's an emergency."

The man hurried over and I leaned towards Ben. His eyes were shut, no longer twitching and I took a deep breath, my stomach turning with nerves.

_God, please. I know I'm an idiot but please - not for me, for Ben - please let Ben be okay. Please._

"Step aside and I'll get him." The man's voice startled me and when I opened my mouth, salt filled my taste buds. I was crying again _,_ I realized, swatting at the tears that had crept down my cheek and into my mouth. I stepped off the curb and helped the man get Ben into the wheelchair.

"I got him. You just go shut your door and turn off your car," he said, pointing to the opened driver's side door.

I glanced at Ben, who opened his eyes and looked at me before closing them again while the man lifted him into the wheelchair.

I ran around to the driver's side and, grabbing the Blackbird off my seat, stuffed it into my pocket before killing my engine. Slamming the door, I followed the worker while he wheeled Ben through the emergency entrance.

"What happened to him?" the man asked. "Overdose?"

"Uh, y-yes," I stammered, unsure of what I should say and how these people would react to the fact that Ben was wearing one of Serenity Bayous' patient gowns. "But it wasn't self-inflicted; someone forced it on him."

We hurried through the hospital's automatic doors and the man yelled, "We need a doctor here!"

A woman in a long white coat with a stethoscope hanging around her neck ran towards us, followed by a man in blue scrubs.

"... Overdose..."

"... renal failure..."

"... get me a gurney now!"

Voices, as fast and slippery as the thoughts in my head, spun around me and then someone was touching my arm.

I turned to face a stranger, a woman with a bad perm and thick glasses. She looked me in the eye and asked, "What's his name, hon?"

"Benjamin." Swallowing hard, I tried to catch my breath. "Benjamin Morris."

Her eyes left mine and she looked down at a clipboard in her hands.

I followed her gaze to the clipboard, the sound of her pen strokes suddenly incredibly loud.

"And you're his friend?" she asked, looking up at me. She used her index finger to tilt her glasses back up on her nose.

"Yes." I nodded. "He's my best friend."

Pausing, with one hand, she pulled her clipboard to her chest, and used the other to grasp my shoulder. "Dr. Richard is the best. She's going to take good care of your friend, okay, sweet pea?"

I nodded, my gaze going to the design on her scrubs: a white background with pink and turquoise swirls.

"Thank you," I said, looking away from the design on her scrubs and into her blue eyes.

She gestured to her right, but I didn't follow her gesture because I remembered I couldn't just keep standing there.

"Have a seat and wait-" she started.

"I'll be back," I whispered, tightening my hold on Ms. Karin's Blackbird as I walked away from the nice lady with the bad perm. I hesitated and turned back to watch two nurses and the doctor lift Ben onto a gurney.

My heart breaking, I tore my eyes away from Ben and ran through the hospital's automatic doors. I ran past my car and, not caring who saw me, I pressed the Blackbird's activation button.

I flew across the street and over the heads of hundreds of well-dressed spectators who, pointing and talking, stood on the front lawn of Alyssum Studios. I passed fire trucks that were just beginning to hose down the worst of the flames - and then I flew into the fire.

#

The flames were hot, but they didn't burn me. Thank God. The thick smoke, however, burned my eyes and filled them with itchy tears. Despite this, I didn't stop or slow down. Coughing, I flew through several walls and only slowed upon reaching a familiar hallway.

I lowered my arms to my sides, initiating my descent, and immediately recognized my surroundings as the hallway that led to Amelia's office.

Good.

"Drew." Ms. Karin's voice filled my ears and I spun around.

Ms. Karin's pretty dress was torn and her hair was a complete mess as she ran towards me. Though I was wearing the Blackbird, it was as if she was looking right at me. _How does she see me?_

I pressed the Blackbird's power button and the device lowered me to the carpet as it unwrapped itself from my extremities.

Ms. Karin's face was so red and her eyes so full of rage that I took a careful step back. She snatched the Blackbird from my grasp. "What were you thinking, stealing this? You nearly got, not only me, but a lot of people killed. I needed this, Drew!"

I backed away and shook my head. "I'm sorry, but Ben-"

She lifted a hand and shook her head. "Save it."

I wanted to explain myself, but there was no time. I had to find Amelia and force her to give me the antidote, which she _hopefully_ had. Then again, even if there had been enough time for an explanation, Ms. Karin wouldn't have let me delve into it. Before I could say another word, she smashed the Blackbird's button with her index finger and grabbed my hand. "I'm getting you outside and then you are going to leave this place. Can you at least do that?"

"But I need to find Amel-" I shut up as my feet left the ground. Suppressing a scream, I watched, helpless, as we sped towards a closed window. _Oh God._ Ms. Karin flew through the window, taking us outside. At this, she wasted no time in dropping me to the ground.

"Get out of here and go home," Ms. Karin hissed while my butt hit the grass with a thud.

Catching my breath, I sat up and saw that not only was Ms. Karin gone, but that the night sky was spinning.

No, it wasn't spinning. I was dizzy. __ I stumbled to my feet, brought my forefingers to the bridge of my nose, and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened my eyes, the world had returned to its motionless state.

I needed to find Amelia Hearth. She was Ben's only hope. __ To my left was the relatively unscathed west side of Alyssum Studio's __ main building. Wide office windows, untouched by the fire that had ravaged the east side, sat behind neatly planted purple and white alyssum flowers.

To my right lay an empty field where tall grass waved to and fro in the cool night breeze. Last summer, Amelia had pointed to that field and told me she'd eventually build another sound stage there.

Far beyond the field, headlights bounced along as traffic flowed through the relatively busy street that ran between Alyssum Studios __ and Swamp Rose General Hospital.

How was I supposed to find her? She could be anywhere. I looked around helplessly. _Think, Drew, think... if I were Amelia and my studios were on fire, where would I be?_

I closed my eyes and thought about Amelia's determination to succeed, to never be beat. The answer hit me and I opened my eyes.

I bet she was still inside, trying to save this place. I ran back to the building Ms. Karin and I had burst out of and headed for the nearest office. I wasn't leaving until I found Amelia and got her to tell me where that antidote was.

Approaching the purple and white alyssum flowers just underneath the office window, I squatted and picked up one of the small bricks bordering the flower patch. Clumps of dirt fell on Tim's scrubs as I lifted the brick and threw it at the large glass window. I brought my arms to my face, covering them, as the window broke. Shards of glass hit the undersides of my arms.

Moving as quickly as I could, I peeled off Tim's scrub top, balled it up in my hands, and ran to the office window.

On the other side of the window was an exceptionally neat office desk containing a framed picture of a family; a little boy and girl sitting on either side of a smiling woman as they made goofy faces at the camera. Just beyond the desk, the office door was opened and I could smell smoke. I hoped whoever those kids belonged to managed to get out of here.

I secured the balled-up scrub top around my fist and tried not to think about how much I was going to cut myself. Biting down on my bottom lip and using the scrub top as a barrier, I punched in the dangerous shards of glass that stuck up from the underside of the window frame. The glass fell into the office and I winced as one of the pieces cut into the skin on the back of my hand.

I dropped the scrub top into the alyssum flower patch, grabbed onto the window frame, and tried to ignore the bits of glass cutting into my fingers as I hoisted myself up.

I brought my left leg over the window and teetered, nearly falling into the office when someone darted past the open door, headed down the hallway.

"Hey!" I shouted and once again losing my grip I tumbled, left leg first, into the office. My left knee crashed into the carpeted floor, thankfully not meeting up with any of the broken glass.

"Hey, wait! Come back!" I shouted as I scrambled to my feet.

Whoever that was might know where to find Amelia! __ I ran through the opened door and into the hallway, coughing as a thick film of smoke hit my lungs.

"Come back! Please, come back!" I shouted.

No one answered.

Beyond me, the hallway stretched out, office after office on either side. At the far end of the hall was a heavy door with an exit sign above it, but I hadn't heard the door open and there was no sign of the person I'd seen.

They had to be in one of the offices.

A tearing noise sounded from the office just ahead. I followed the sound and came to a dead stop in the doorway, my mouth falling open and overwhelming fear consuming me.

Inside of the office was a woman with bright red hair. She stood facing one of the walls, her opened hand aimed at it. A spherical mass of fire emerged from her palm and flew to the wall. And then another... one fireball after another.

_What am I even looking at right now?_

The white and red fireballs sizzled like lightning as they ate into the wall and produced flames as red as the woman's hair. The flames crawled up and down the wall, devouring it.

Unable to breath, I backed away.

Whatever she was, she couldn't be human. And this couldn't be good.

I stopped in my tracks _._

Actually, this _was_ good. This was _very_ good, in a horribly bad way. This woman had to be one of the "extraordinary people" Tim was talking about. That meant she knew about the antidote that would save Ben. And since it'd take forever to find Amelia, I had to get this fire-spewing alien and/or mutant to help me.

I returned my attention to the "extraordinary" woman, assessing her. Her posture was as perfect as Winnie's while she focused on demolishing the wall before her. Seeing as she was reducing Alyssum Studios to ashes, I assumed she wasn't the world's kindest mutant and/or alien.

God help me, I _had_ to do this.

My heart hammering in my chest, I took a step back and whispered, "Hey..."

_She can't hear that. Why are you whispering? Speak up!_

Prepared to bolt down the hallway if the woman decided to turn around and aim that weird palm of hers in my direction, I opened my mouth, but before I could get the words out, she lowered her palm and turned to me.

"Who are _you_?" she asked, in a surprisingly calm voice.

My gaze went to the woman's hand, which I prayed would remain facedown and fireball-less.

Gulping, I met her amethyst-colored eyes. They were beyond strange. They glowed like stars and cut into the dark of the office as she stared back at me.

"I'm, um, I'm..." I stammered. The more I looked at the woman, the more her stance reminded me of Winnie's. I think it was the way she stood tall, with her shoulders back while she looked down her nose at me.

_Just pretend you're talking to Winnie._

I straightened my spine, looked her in the eye, and took a step forward. "I'm Drew Everett." Forcing a relaxed and steady tone of voice that I didn't at all feel, I said, "A friend of mine was injected with Trip TSN, and I'm told you probably have the antidote that can save him. If you give it to me, I'll do anything you want."

The alien woman's eyebrows lowered, evening out above her eyes, which had suddenly changed to a clear blue color. Her right hand twitched. I tried not to stare at it in terror.

"I have an antidote, yes," she said simply.

"Then, I'll help you burn this place to the ground if that's what you want," I said quickly. "I'll do anything if you'll give it to me."

The woman smiled. "Why would _I_ require _your_ assistance?" she asked, her feet leaving the floor as she flew towards me.

A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck and I glanced at her hovering feet. Yeah, that wasn't a Blackbird doing that. She was actually flying.

"There's a reason why you're doing this to Amelia's studio," I said. More smoke crept into my lungs and I coughed. Catching my breath, I inched away from the blazing wall she'd set on fire. "I'm guessing you're torching this place because you like Amelia about as much as I do. Amelia's a jerk. Trust me, I know. I used to work for her. We can team up against her to make sure _she_ goes down in flames. I'll help you get back at her..." I shut up as the alien woman shortened the gap between us, hovering only a foot or so away from me.

She lowered her boot clad feet to the floor and the flame-ridden wall at my right began to cave in on itself, creating a horrible moaning sound as the ceiling collapsed with it. My pulse sped and I looked around at our disintegrating surroundings.

We had to get out of here.

Smoke stung my eyes and I coughed while I backed into the hallway. The woman held my gaze with her strange eyes, which were now morphing into an unsettling orange color. She followed me into the hallway and tilted her head, watching me with blatant curiosity.

Why wasn't she saying anything?

"I really mean it," I said, desperation creeping into my tone. "I will help you find Amelia Hearth and-"

"Amelia -" she paused to smile, a smug look in her eye, "- is already dead."

I stared at her.

Amelia was dead?

A thousand different emotions coursed through me. Amelia Hearth couldn't be dead. Amelia was a force of nature. Forces of nature didn't just... _die_.

Despite the room's heat, a chill took hold of my spine and I shivered uncontrollably.

"And, clearly, I don't need your help to destroy this building." While she was speaking, the ceiling behind her collapsed. Above my head, a series of creaks and groans warned of impending doom.

I turned to my right, and flames lashed against either side of the hallway. _I'm going to die in here,_ I realized, a roll of sweat trickling down my nose, _and Ben-_

I turned back to the woman and shouted, "Then let me help you do _something_ , _anything_! I need to save my friend! I'll do anything you want. You say it and I'll do it!"

"All right." She extended her hand and beckoned me. "Come with me and I'll explain what you can do for my planet."

What I could do for her _planet_?

"Agreed," I said, my gaze darting to the flames headed my way. I took the woman's hand. "Whatever you want, it's done."

#

Throughout the six months that I'd been in Louisiana, I'd spent nearly every evening in Ben's room throwing popcorn at him and arguing with him while we played one of his _Star Wars_ games or watched one of our favorite movies. Typically, whatever we played, watched, or argued about somehow involved spaceships.

So, I'd seen a lot of spaceships... on television. But I never thought I'd find myself inside of an actual spacecraft.

Unable to believe where I was standing, I looked around the large craft that the alien woman had called _ReGenesis_. I took in its every detail, trying to memorize it all. After all, in a few days, when Ben was better, I'd have to describe it to him and he'd want me to be as detailed as possible.

_He'd love this_ , I thought as I examined the oval-shaped table in the center of the room. The table looked like it'd been hewn from oak, as did all the room's walls, but when I ran my hand along the table's edge, it didn't feel like wood. It was cold to the touch and felt like a heavy metal.

To my right, a large window revealed the night sky where stars, shining brighter than I'd ever seen, winked back at me as if to assure me that everything was going to be okay.

I took a deep breath and hoped everything really _would_ _be_ all right. At this, I set my gaze on the alien woman at the other end of the room.

She sat in front of a console constructed of the same faux-oak material; it contained a lever, a keyboard, and slew of multicolored buttons that she'd intermittently press. I crossed my arms and suppressed a sigh.

We'd been in _ReGenesis_ for a good half hour, well, actually _I_ had. After a horrible, _and I mean horrible,_ flight that I was pretty sure gave me whiplash, she'd literally thrown me on the floor of the ship, ordered me not to move, and then left.

Too scared to move, it took a few minutes for me to muster the courage to get up and go stare out the window while I pulled shards of glass out of my hair.

Eventually, I took a gander at the console with the lever and cool buttons, accidently bled on the console, hurriedly wiped the blood away, and nearly peed my pants as the surrounding scenery started to ripple. The ripples, very similar to the way the world appeared when I was wearing Ms. Karin's Blackbird, had preceded the flying alien woman's appearance.

"So," I ventured, noting that instead of looking up as I spoke, she simply continued to type and frown into her console. "On your planet, does everyone have a ship like this?"

"No," she replied, her voice as flat as a bored tween's. "I'm an honored dignitary, hence the elite craft."

"Well..." I cleared my throat. "It's very nice."

I'd never felt so awkward in my life. Everything inside of me screamed to push her off her narrow butt and demand she give me the antidote, but common sense dictated that I not aggravate an alien who was able to produce fire from the palms of her hands.

So there I was, stuck, forced to keep quiet and submissive, like one of Katherine Heigl's assistants. The alien's fingers clicked against the keyboard, filling the otherwise quiet room with sound, and for the millionth time in five seconds, I wondered how Ben was holding up. Probably not well, considering that he was dying.

I clenched my fists and said, "When are we going to discus-"

"I will provide you with the antidote that will revive your friend _if_ , and only _if_ , within forty-eight earth hours, you provide me with the information I require." Her gaze glued to the console, she asked, "I assume you are enrolled at South Louisiana High School?"

Why did _that_ matter? Then again, who cared why it mattered? If it mattered to this godawful alien fire-witch, then it mattered to Ben's survival.

"Yes," I replied, making my way towards her. I stopped in my tracks as a massive holographic map of Swamp Rose appeared just above her console.

Frozen in place, I stared at the detailed map and realized that it was a real-time video. It showed Alyssum Studios burning as firefighters rushed to extinguish the flames. A large crowd of people dressed in ball gowns and tuxedos were gathered on the nearby roadside, watching.

I blinked as the alien woman touched the map and it contorted, zooming in to South Louisiana High. She tapped her finger against the image of SLH's main building and said, " _ReGenesis_ , show me every student."

The real-time video of SLH was replaced by images of students. Profile pictures that I recognized from Instagram and Facebook flew into view before fading away. My own headshot appeared and then faded. I glanced at the woman as she said, "I've gathered rudimentary intel on each student in your school, but what I _do not_ yet have, are their fingerprints."

"Fingerprints?" I repeated, wondering if I'd somehow misheard.

"Yes." She turned to me, arching one of her thin, red eyebrows. "Are you familiar with the term?"

"Of course," I slowly replied. "But I don't understand why you need a bunch of student's fingerprints."

"Do you need to understand or do you need your friend to live?" she asked, her tone cold.

"I'll do what you want," I retorted. "But I need to know what I'm doing." As soon as the words left my lips, I clamped my mouth shut, regretting them.

She tilted her head and looked at me as if I were an adorably dumb puppy. "Can you do as I say? Or, will you become a problem?"

I swallowed hard. "I'll do what you say."

She turned back to the hologram. " _ReGenesis_ , show me Froner's Projectile."

The holographic images of student IDs and Facebook pictures disappeared. They were replaced by 3-D blueprints of a rocket.

"I'm not from this galaxy, my home is a planet called Novus," the woman said, her voice low.

Novus? I took a step forward, clasped my sweaty hands together, and watched the alien's eyes flicker to mine before returning to the holographic image. Like Lenora, she had very fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. I wondered if her skin was real, or if it was some kind of suit she had on over her _real_ body.

I forced myself into actor-mode and directed a hundred percent of my attention to her, listening as she continued, "The Novu, my people, _look_ like Earthlings, but we are not human. We are stronger, faster, of much higher intelligence, and endowed with abilities that humans consider 'supernatural.' Recently, however, some of the Novu have developed a weakness that, if left unchecked, will lead to our extinction." She turned her chair to face me, and for the first time since I'd been in the room, I noticed that the legless chair was floating above the floor.

"I'm sorry," I said, shifting on my feet. "That's terrible."

"Which is why I'm doing all I can to stamp out the spread of this defect. The only way I can do so is by moving this," she said, pointing to the holographic blueprints. "From Earth to my home planet. Once it is on Novus, my people and I will be rid of our affliction. But I have two problems. Firstly, I am unaware of the exact location of this... rocket. I only know that it is housed somewhere in your town. Secondly, even if I knew its exact coordinates, I would be unable to activate it. So..."

She continued her explanation, but I fell out of actor mode and surrendered to the many questions her explanation inspired. How was some rocket going to help her people get rid of a "defect," which I guessed was some kind of sickness? That didn't make sense. And why didn't she know where the rocket was?

"How is _a rocket_ going to save the Novu?" I blurted. "I don't understand."

The woman's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed.

_Uh oh._ Overwhelmed by fear, I glanced at her hands and prayed she wouldn't flash those fire-wielding palms at me.

"I will not remind you again: refrain from questioning me."

"Understood." I nodded as my knees turned to jello.

"As I was saying," she paused for a beat too long, eyeing me while I held my breath and tried to look like I wasn't. "I've recently learned that the Novu scientist who designed the rocket enabled it with an activation lock that can only be accessed by the fingerprint of an Earthling who happens to be a registered student at South Louisiana High School."

Um... what? Why would a high school student from the swamps of Louisiana be _the only person_ in the entire freaking universe able to launch a rocket that could save an entire race of extraterrestrials?

I didn't dare ask my question aloud.

The Novu woman turned to the holographic image of the rocket's blueprints and zoomed in on its side, revealing a fingerprint activation console.

"In forty-eight-four hours, I need you to find a copy of every South Louisiana High student's fingerprint and get it to me," she said, returning her attention to me.

My heart sank and I took a deep breath. "How do I do that?"

"That's _your_ problem," she replied, an eyebrow arched. "Take pictures, cut their fingers off, I don't care, just get me the prints and I'll give you the antidote that will save your friend."

Panic cresting in my chest, I asked, "Will my friend be able survive until-"

"Your friend's condition was my reason for choosing forty-eight hours. Someone injected today will be dead in two earth days." She sighed, as if I were beginning to bore her. "I have business to attend to, so I'll bring you back now."

She stood, towering above me at almost six feet and I instinctively took a step back.

"Okay..." I paused, realizing that I didn't even know her name. "What should I call you? Do you have a name?"

"Moira," she replied as her feet left the floor.

"Moira," I whispered, chills running over my arms. I didn't trust Moira, but she was the key to saving Ben, so I had to do what she wanted.

#

"Jesus, __ Moira!" I screamed. Roadside gravel cut into my chaffed palms as I pushed myself up from the ground. A three hour Pointe class with Winnie wouldn't have left my knees and low back in as much pain as they were in then.

I stumbled to my feet and glanced at a pair of headlights in the distance before turning to face Moira. She hovered above the ground, her black jumpsuit blending in with the night.

"When I was six, my drunk mother drove me and my sister through a barricade and ** __**_off a bridge_ ," I shouted. "And _this_ was much worse!"

Moira's gaze went to the car headed our way before returning to me. Her shimmering eyes narrowed into catlike slits as she said, "Perhaps next time you'd rather I drop you from twenty feet above the ground."

Why did I keep provoking this woman?

"No, of course not. I'm sorry," I quickly said, taking a step back. Gravel crunched under my tennis shoes as I continued, "It's just that when you fly really fast and the only part of me you're holding is my wrists, it kind of feels like you're actually __ going to drop -"

"In forty-eight hours, I'll return for you," Moira said, speaking over me. With this, she turned away and ripples filled the night sky, indenting the darkness around her. In the distance, the approaching car's headlights nearly blinded me. I squinted and shielded my eyes from its lights as I moved away from the road and closer to the shoulder. The car passed, sweeping dust and debris on my right side.

"Great," I mumbled, dropping my arms and looking around for Moira, but of course, she'd already disappeared.

Sighing, I glanced up and the stars seemed much further away than they'd been on Moira's ship. I watched them twinkle back at me.

_ReGenesis could be any one of those "stars"..._ then again, no it couldn't. Moira couldn't have flown me through the atmosphere to someplace in outer space. So I guessed her ship wasn't up there with the stars.

The blare of an ambulance sounded behind me and I turned around, peering down the dark highway. Smoke and burned wood clung to the air, and as a night breeze stirred the surrounding trees, the smell grew even stronger.

The ambulance passed me by and an identical siren sounded in the distance. Another ambulance? Maybe this was the highway behind the hospital.

I crossed my arms and assessed my surroundings. To my left was a quiet pasture and to my right were a lot of trees and a few houses that looked like they'd been built in the 1970s.

I wished I hadn't left my phone in the car. __ A second ambulance whizzed past, whipping up spewed roadside debris. And I wished I knew how to get the fingerprints of every student in South Louisiana High.

Peering into the distance and spotting the lights of what looked like a back entrance to the hospital, I dropped my arms, balled my hands into fists, and started to jog.

I had to give Mr. Brown my prints on my first day at SLH... and Ben was always complaining about how Principal Williams wasted money on buying a _student fingerprint database_ instead of purchasing something SLH actually needed. It was ironic that one of the things Ben was always complaining about was what was going to save his life. Now, I just had to figure out how to break into the school's fingerprint database.

Behind me, a third ambulance screeched and I moved off of the shoulder to jog alongside the grass.

How was I going to get to that database?

THE HOSPITAL'S AUTOMATIC doors opened and into the bright lights I stepped.

To my right, a woman in scrubs sat behind a long, oval reception desk. Her hands rested over her computer keyboard as she looked up and smiled. But her smile faded and her eyebrows went up. Her gaze moved down to my clothing.

"Sweetheart," she said, standing. "Did you need to get to the emergency room? Let me grab a chair and I'll wheel you there myself."

"No. No thank you." I waved away her offer and approached her desk. "I'm fine."

"Were you in that fire across the street?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"N-yeah... yes. I was in the fire. But I'm okay. I just need to check on my friend. His name's Benjamin Morris. Can you give me his room number please?"

"Okay..." Hesitating, she frowned before easing back into her seat. The chair creaked under her weight and she looked me in the eye. "Are you sure you're all right?"

_No, I am not okay. My best friend is dying and I was abducted by a psychotic alien._

"Yes, thank you." I nodded and tried to ignore the headache that was beginning to knock on the walls of my brain. "I'm just worried about my friend."

"I understand." She offered me a sympathetic smile and lowered her gaze to her computer screen. "You said his name is Benjamin Morris?"

"Yes."

While she busied herself with looking up Ben's room number, I glanced at the muted television in the waiting area at my right.

The news anchor's dark eyes were somber as he appeared to be talking about something grave and all at once, a shot of Alyssum Studios engulfed in flames filled the screen. Below it, the caption read, "Amelia Hearth confirmed dead."

I felt heavy, like my limbs had been transformed into steel. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. Moira killed Amelia.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced Amelia's death from my thoughts by focusing on the tip-tap of the receptionist's fingers as she typed.

"Oh." The woman's voice sent my eyes open, and dropping my hand, I looked at her.

"Oh?" I repeated, my voice a whisper. "What happened to him?"

"At the moment, your friend is in our intensive care unit," she explained in a gentle tone. "The ICU takes exceptional care of their patients and this includes making sure they're well-rested. That's why visiting hours are only in the morning between six and eight, and in the evening between five and seven. I hope you can come back then."

If I had the Blackbird, I could just go straight to his room. __ I pursed my lips, shook my head and tried not to cry, scream, or do anything else that Lenora Everett would've done.

"I'm so sorry," the woman replied, her voice soft.

"No, it's okay. I'm sure he needs his rest..." My voice trailed off as I suddenly remembered that I'd parked in a no-parking zone right in front of the emergency room. "Um, earlier, when I dropped Ben off... um, my friend who's in intensive care, when I dropped him off, I parked in front of the emergency room, do you think they towed me?"

"Honey, this is Swamp Rose." The woman smiled and shook her head. "Our 'no parking' signs are pretty much for decoration."

"Oh." I nodded absently. "That's good. Thank you."

I trudged away from her desk and tried not to think about how much pain Amelia must have been in when Moira killed her with one of those fireballs or about how much pain Ben was probably in at that very moment. Right then, the only thing I could afford to think about was how I was going to get to that fingerprint database.

I CLOSED MY car door, took a deep breath, and accidently got a good whiff of myself in closed quarters. The smell of ashes and sweat on top of your basic "it's been a _really_ long day" funk is rather gag-worthy and gag is what I did as I turned the ignition and my car's cell phone sync decided to surprise me with a nice little heart attack.

"You have five missed calls," the robotic voice abruptly informed me while I jumped out of my skin and accidently hit my elbow on the car door. "Three calls from Megs and two calls from Mona."

I glanced at the time. 11:55 PM.

I wondered if Megs was still awake because-

"Incoming call from Megs," my car announced. "Would you like to answer?"

"Yes," I replied, putting my car in drive and pulling away from the entrance to the emergency room. "Megs?"

"Drew!" she screeched and I winced at the noise. "You're okay, thank God! The fire... and Amelia... it was all over the news and I was scared that you... I'm so glad you're okay..." Her voice trailed off and a lump formed in the back of my throat.

Slowing as I approached the main road, I cleared my throat and whispered, "Yeah."

"I'm so sorry about Amelia, Drew," Megs said.

Tears stung my eyes, blurring the street lights, gas station signs, stars, moon... everything.

"I know you two were kind of close," Megs went on. I sighed and turned left, headed for home. "Because of the movie and everything and -"

"Hey, Megs?" I interrupted, wiping my eyes. "Can we not talk about it?" She didn't say anything and I wondered if I'd hurt her feelings.

"Of course," she finally said.

I blinked away my tears and the blurry road transformed into a recognizable street as she asked, "Um, so... you're okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, speeding through a yellow light.

"Good," Megs said with an unexpected giggle. "Oh, you know what I wanted to tell you? I was working in Mr. Brown's office this afternoon and Heath came in for something and when he saw me and he was all like, 'Why does Drew keep avoiding me?' And I was like, 'Well, Heath, to avoid you, she'd have to notice you...'"

Working in the office? As in, the SLH office _with the student fingerprint database_?

"Megs!" I exclaimed, cutting her off. "You work in the office? Like as a student aide?"

"Uh, yeah, last week _I told you_ I dropped Theater for office work," she replied. "You don't remember that? It was, like, this huge decision for me."

"You probably did tell me, I'm sorry," I said, easing off the gas and turning onto the road that led to my neighborhood. "Um, quick question. Is the student fingerprint database in the office where you work?"

"Yeah," she replied, her voice slow. "Mr. Brown has it. Why? Are you in trouble or-"

"Mr. Brown?" I frowned. "That creepy history teacher?"

"Yeah, he's pretty gross. But at least he doesn't mess with me," she said with a yawn. "Mr. Brown's the acting assistant principal until the cheapos who run SLH realize they can afford to hire an _actual_ assistant principal."

"So the database is on Mr. Brown's computer?" I asked.

"He keeps it on a portable hard drive that the school lets him use. Actually, our school is so cheap, I bet they made Mr. Brown pay for the hard drive himself."

_On a hard drive..._

"Hey." I paused. "Hypothetically, if I needed information from Mr. Brown's hard drive, would I find it attached to a PC at school or attached to that little blue laptop he reads his lectures from?"

"Okay, Drew. That question scares me."

"It shouldn't." I faked a laugh as I spotted an armadillo just ahead. The small creature was easing its way across the road without a care in the world. I came to a stop and waited as the animal came to a halt and stared at me in fright for seven billion hours. It then started to turn back, but then paused again, slowly turned to me and stared at my car's headlights for another seven billion hours before deciding to run, full speed - which was like, -.2 mph - across the road.

"I'm just sort of like, doing research for a... a, um..."

"A what?" Megs asked.

I was such a crap liar. I cleared my throat. "Let's just say I'm doing research for a role."

"A role in which you play a high school student who wants to steal information from her school's database?" Megs asked.

"Yeah. It's a very Steven Soderbergh-ish, um..." The armadillo had finally crossed the street, so I took off towards my neighborhood. "Actually, Megs, I'm _lying_ through my teeth right now. But please just trust me and answer my question: is Mr. Brown's hard drive attached to a PC at school?"

_Please let her trust me, please, ple-_

"On the weekends," Megs said with a sigh, "he brings the hard drive home with him. And since tomorrow's a holiday, he brought it home with him today."

"Where does he live?" I asked.

Megs laughed. "Seriously? How should I know where he lives? You'd have to ask Mia Reeves about that... oh, I shouldn't say that. That's mean."

I frowned. "Why would Mia Reeves knew where Mr. Brown lives?"

"I'm pretty sure she knows everything there is to know about Mr. Brown."

Great. Mia Reeves hated my guts. I couldn't just ask her for Mr. Brown's address. Oh, wait, I could just Google him, duh.

Relief pulsed through my veins as I lifted my foot from the accelerator and, slowing down, turned into my neighborhood's check-in gate.

" _Thank you,_ Megs, you just saved a hot nerd's life," I said.

"What?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Gotta go. I'll talk to you later, okay?" I said, pulling up to the window where Mr. Givings, the seventy-something year old security guard with gleaming white dentures and hair that had been dyed at least fourteen shades too black, stood grinning at me.

"Okay, bye, girl," Megs replied.

"End call," I ordered, turning to Mr. Givings and giving him what I hoped passed as a smile. "Good evening." _Please lift the gate, dude, I need to go home._

He leaned over the window and lost his smile as he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine. I was in the fire at Alyssum Studios and now I just want to go home and cry myself sleep." The words flew out of my mouth so quickly, they must have been true.

"Oh." His face softened. "Glad you're all right, Miss Everett. Take care of yourself."

The gate lifted and, without looking Mr. Givings in the eye, I nodded. "Thank you."

_I'll find out where Mr. Brown lives, break in, and steal the hard drive..._

My decision made, I sped through the opened gate and swerved around the corner before pulling into the first house on my left.

As I approached the gate at the end of our driveway, I reached for my key ring and pressed the button on my remote. Our gate slid open and beyond the oak trees, our house came into view.

I wished I didn't have to do this all on my own.

#

"So, are you in?" I asked without looking up to meet my sister's eyes. Instead, I sprayed a generous amount of Matrix Curl Life on her honey blonde curls and held my breath, waiting for her response.

I'd spent 1 to 2:15 AM scouring the internet for Mr. Brown's home address and found absolutely _nothing_. So, I'd laid in my bed for a couple of hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering how I was going to get Mia Reeves to give me his address. Around 4 AM, I heard America's supermodel sweetheart fall down our stairs and curse quite loudly. This inspired a brilliant plan.

"So, you're basically using me to help you make friends with cheerleaders?" Clara asked, and I finally let my gaze go to her reflection in my vanity mirror.

She hugged her pink-pajama-clad knees to her chest and shifted around in my seat, her pretty green eyes meeting mine. I set the Matrix spray on my vanity and averted my gaze, focusing instead on perfecting one of her wayward curls. "Pretty much, yeah."

Clara sighed, closing her eyes. "Ohhh, I love it when people play with my hair. I wish I was a puppy, so people could pet me."

I smiled, but if felt weird. Not just "fake smile" weird, but utterly _misplaced_ because a smile was the last thing that belonged on my face.

The boy I loved was dying and his only chance for survival depended on an insane finger-print-nabbing plan that, quite honestly, might not even work.

"Remember the puppy we used to have when Mom was still with your dad?" Clara asked.

Perfecting the rest of her long golden curls, I shook my head. "No, I don't remember a dog _or_ my father living with us before he died." I glanced at Clara.

"Really? That's crazy. But I guess you were little, yeah. Well he loved you like _insanely_ ; it actually made me kind of jealous..." Her voice trailed off.

"The dog?"

"No, your dad. He was like father of the freaking year." She pursed her lips and glanced down at her lap. "A lot better than mine."

Poor Clara. __ My sister's father was an American-born actor who made his home in Potsdam, Germany and became the star of Germany's most famous soap opera. He was really good looking, in a young Robert-Redfordish way, but he was also quite mean.

I think his attitude towards my sister had to do with the fact that her very existence was proof of his adulterous relationship with our mother. Sure, they'd been married once back when Mom was eighteen, but during Clara's conception and birth, the guy had been married to one of his costars. It was just a messy situation and I could understand why Clara and her father rarely spoke.

"Well," I said as I gently patted the top of her head. "I don't remember any of that, but I _do_ remember calling you Sunshine when I was little."

She chuckled and I grinned. This time, my smile wasn't a fraud.

"I remember that too," Clara said. "That's a tough word for a little kid to say. I always wondered why you didn't just call me 'C' or something simpler."

"Because back then, in my world, you were the sun," I said as I tucked her hair behind her ears.

She laughed. "You're such a suck-up. You just want me to be your cheerleader bait, don't you?"

"No." I shook my head. "But I _do_ need those girls to like me, and if you want to help me with that, I wouldn't say no."

She lost her smile for a moment. "Well... I do owe you for the other day."

I glanced at her. Clara and I hadn't _really_ talked about her drug problem yet.

Our eyes met and she smiled. "I'll help you, but I have to say... if those girls don't already like you, then they're not worth your time."

I also hadn't talked to Clara about the entire "Ben being injected with Trip TSN and an alien from Planet Novus holding the antidote hostage" situation. All Clara knew was that I needed her to make me "cool" to some cheerleaders from my school, cool enough to make them want to hang out with me for the entire day.

I looked at her in the mirror. "Yeah, but it's complicated."

"Dude!" she suddenly screeched, breaking into a huge grin. She pointed to herself in the mirror. "I _love_ my hair. You're good! I just wish I didn't look so much like _her_."

Lenora.

"The last time I got my butthole bleached-" Clara started.

"Geez, Clara, can we not talk about... that," I interrupted. "I love you but I don't want that mental picture in my head."

"Why? That's not weird to talk about is it?" she asked, her eyes wide.

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. Just tell me what happened."

"Anyway, last time I got _it_ bleached, I was thinking it'd be awesome if I could get my DNA bleached, to take mom's problems out of me, you know what I mean? It's like I live with her ghosts inside of me, which is so depressing. I think it's actually my worst problem."

"I feel the same way," I said, watching my sister carefully. "But, Clara, you _do_ know you're not anything like her, right?"

She shrugged and averted her eyes, glancing at the clock on my vanity. "Let's go reel in your snobby cheerleaders."

I could tell she didn't believe me. And the truth was that maybe she actually was a little bit like our mother, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Lenora Everett had plenty of good qualities. When she was sober, she was creative, empathetic, and a lot of fun. And those were the very words I'd use to describe my sister. It was like she was a mix of Lenora's best qualities.

I leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. "You're the best. Thanks for helping me."

"Well, you were there for me the other day," she said, patting my cheek. "And I'm sure I'll need your help again at some point, so this is nothing." She pushed her long curls over her shoulder, hopped out of my chair, and skipped out of my room.

As I watched Clara skip away, it hit me just how much my sister and I had in common. We shared the exact same fear - we were both afraid of making Lenora's mistakes. And yet, in our own way, we'd already made her mistakes.

Fortunately, we'd also inherited Lenora's tenacity. We refused to stay on the ground, wallowing in the messes we'd made. We always got back on our feet.

"I KNEW I should've hired a bodyguard," Clara whispered. "Did you see that thug?"

I wrinkled my nose at Swamp Rose Mall's ever-present stench of stale popcorn and lard-infused corndogs as I turned to my sister. Towering above me in her four-inch heels, ripped denim jeans, see-through white blouse, and Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses, Clara was stunning, and incredibly conspicuous.

I tried not to feel frumpy in my sensibly low two-inch heels, comfortable jeans, and "Yes, I'm a Rock Star" t-shirt while I secured my purse on my shoulder. "If you take off the sunglasses, that'll help."

"No," she hissed as a group of boys stopped dead in their tracks to stare at us. Well... to stare at Clara. "If I take them off, people will notice me. Duh."

I pointed to the escalator just ahead. "We're going up here, and I'm going to tell you a secret."

"What?" Clara asked, brushing a nonexistent speck of whatever off her blouse.

I turned to her and snatched her sunglasses. She gasped and before she could say a word, I said, "Only two kinds of people wear expensive sunglasses indoors: junkies and celebrities. So, unless you want to start a riot after being in the mall for only three minutes, I'm keeping the sunglasses in my purse."

True to my word, I tossed them in my purse and held my breath as we passed yet another reeking corndog stand and stepped on to the escalator.

"Fine." Clara sighed from behind me.

I leaned against the left side of the escalator, looking down at the swarms of people, meandering along as they ate the kinds of foods I'd been, from the moment I was pulled out of Lenora's womb, taught to avoid.

I'd scorned these people because of their terrible taste in food, clothing, and basically everything, but I never stopped to notice that they actually looked happy. I thought about Ben's mom and the way she, at first, hadn't really seen me. All she saw was a skin color that - in her mind - instantly made me wrong for her son. I frowned. But really, I was no different than her. I was prejudiced too. I'd looked at these people without seeing them and just assumed they were all a bunch of uneducated, gluten-eating-

Clara interrupted my thoughts as she turned to me. "Are you sure these cheeleaders are going to be here? We might've made a blank trip."

"They'll be here," I said. "Every Friday afternoon they film a web series in the mall and... I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I've actually watched it on YouTube and it's pretty funny. It's called _AniMalls._ They film themselves hanging out and gossiping or fighting or whatever. It's supposed to be like _The Real Housewives,_ but it's set in the mall and it's for teenagers."

"Aw." Clara laughed. "Sounds cute. Let's watch it when we get back home."

As I considered the possibility of watching something with Clara, a warm feeling washed over me. It felt sort of like a hug. We hadn't hung out, or even just watched television together, in years. "Yeah, I'd like that," I quietly agreed. As soon was Ben's better, I'd have him over and him, me, and Clara could spend time together.

My thoughts were sliced by the sound of a familiar voice. "And he won't return my calls and it scares me because, like, what if something happened to him? Or even worse, what if he _really did_ run away with her..."

I looked up and spotted Mia just ahead. A smoothie in one of her hands, she used her free hand to gesture as she spoke to her two best friends, Kyle and Elizabeth. They all stood beside a smoothie stand near the escalator, sipping their drinks.

Perfect.

"I see the cheerleaders just ahead, get ready," I whispered to Clara.

"Where?" Clara asked as she fluffed up her curls.

"See the tall blonde chick with the smoothie? That's Mia and two of her friends," I quietly said. "Mia's the one I need."

"My God, she's pretty. I was expecting some backwoods swamp-person. But she could actually be on the runway with me," Clara whispered as we approached the second floor.

"Trust me, no matter what she looks like, she's a racist swamp rat just like the rest of these-" Realizing what I was saying, I shook my head and sighed. "Actually, she's as backwoods as I am snobby. So, I guess we're even."

I stepped off the escalator, donned my best nonchalant expression, and turned to Clara.

"Well," Clara whispered. "At least she's not wearing camo and cowboy boots."

"I know, right?" Since we were within the cheerleader's line of sight, I laughed as loudly as I could and said, "And at least you're not wearing your $700 sunglasses indoors."

Clara grinned and hit me in the shoulder. "Not seven hundred, seven _thousand_."

I pretended not to see the girls as I squinted into the smoothie stand's menu and loudly said, "Hey, Clara, didn't you say you wanted a smoothie?"

"I totally did!" she exclaimed in a fake high-pitched voice. With this, she proceeded to wave her arms to and fro in some sort of spastic fit that I suppose was meant to indicate happiness. "Oh, my God, Drew, you're _the best_ for remembering."

Clearly my sister hadn't inherited our family's thespian genes.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Right. But tell them to _tone it down_ on the sugar when they make yours. You know how _weird_ and _fake_ it tastes when there's too much sugar."

"Drew?" Mia's voice rang out just ahead and I turned away from Clara, feigning confusion by glancing behind me and then to my left. "Over here! Drew!"

Mia's heels clicked against the mall's tile floor as she headed our way.

I widened my eyes in surprise. "Mia?"

"Drew!" she gushed while Elizabeth and Kyle strolled up beside her, all three of them staring at Clara. "What are y'all doing here?"

"Oh, just shopping." I turned to my sister. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and I _really_ hoped she'd say exactly what I'd told her to say. The last thing I needed was for her to try her hand at improv and screw everything up. "Have you guys met my sister?"

"N-no," Mia Reeves stammered. Her gaze darting to Clara, she blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hi, I'm Mia, Drew's friend from school. It's an honor to meet you."

_Friend... ?_

The din of the mall, crying kids, screaming parents, laughing boys, giggling girls - every bit of the noise faded as I watched Mia, Kyle, and Elizabeth trip all over themselves to impress my sister.

Kyle, shouldering Mia out of the way, stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hey, Clara, my name's Kyle. I'm a _huge_ fan of your work. For a while I wanted to be a model too. You're such an inspiration."

My sister loved the attention and she accepted Kyle's businesslike handshake with gusto. I watched with a smile, proud of Clara for not pointing out that Kyle was only 5'2 and therefore incapable of making it as a model.

"Aw, meeting a fan like you is inspiring t _o me_." Clara gushed and then glanced at Elizabeth. "What about you? What's your name?"

The icy cheerleader who rarely said a word to me, smiled _shyly_ , and in the voice of a small rodent befriending a Disney Princess said, "I'm Elizabeth and gosh, I just love your outfit."

_Gosh?_

"Thanks, Elizabeth." Clara smiled and turned to Mia. "So, you guys are my sister's friends?"

"Yeah!" Mia chirped, glancing at me with a gargantuan grin. "Drew, we're so glad we ran into you. Want to walk around for a minute?"

"Isn't she that supermodel?" A bystander's voice, stood out among the chorus of passing conversations, caught my attention and I turned to glance at the people who were walking by.

Of course, all of the guys were staring, but when I noticed five or six women nudging their friends and pointing at Clara with excited gleams in their eyes, I realized that we were on the verge of Clara being noticed... like, seriously noticed. Crap.

I turned to Mia and smiled. "Sure, that'd be great." I glanced at Clara, hoping she'd remember what she was supposed to do next.

"Oh, geez!" Clara exclaimed and the cheerleaders looked at her in awed surprise. Clara groaned as she opened her purse and began rooting around for her phone. "I almost forgot, I have a conference call with Heidi in literally _five_ minutes. I'll have to catch you guys later!"

Biting back a proud smile, I watched Clara retrieve her phone and then trot away before pausing, turning back to us, and shouting, "Drew, bring your friends over later! We should all hang out!"

With that, my sister, towering above the staring crowd, wove in and out of fans who called after her. She hurried towards the mall's back exit where a security guard would be waiting to escort her to Mona's car.

"That was Clara Everett!" multiple voices whispered around me.

I had to give the girl credit for, not only remembering her lines, but for having the guts to walk through an entire crowd of fans, unescorted.

"Hey?" I returned my attention to Mia, Kyle, and Elizabeth. The three girls, still staring in the direction that my sister had gone, looked at me, a bit dazed. "I have a confession to make."

Blinking as if to restore her sense of reality, Mia exhaled and tilted her head. "What?"

"I was just talking to Clara about how I want to be initiated into the cheerleaders' secret society. So I'm glad we ran into each other. I would, like, be willing to totally humiliate myself to get in." I smiled brightly and pointed to Macy's. "Mind if we walk to Macy's while we talk more about that?" Without waiting for an answer, I moved past the girls and headed to the department store.

_Please follow me_ , I thought, cringing as I brushed shoulders with people who walked past me. Still not hearing the reassuring clicks of Mia's heels behind me, I started to panic. _Come on, this had work..._

#

Despite my sinking confidence, I approached Macy's entrance in a series of purposeful strides and a group of tween girls, all giggling in their matching blue tops, walked past me and into the store.

I turned around and was pleasantly startled to find Kyle right behind me. I smiled and took a step back. "I didn't realize you were right behind me."

"I'm a quiet walker." Frowning, she moved around me and headed into the store as I followed. "So, what secret society were you talking about?"

Mia was just over my shoulder, walking beside Elizabeth as they hung back and listened to my every word.

"Um..." I headed to a rack of purses and just kept talking in the hopes that my crazy brain would consider this "acting" and not "lying," which would send me into stammering like I was auditioning for _The King's Speech_. "You know how when you join a sorority you have to be initiated? Well, you and Mia, all your friends are kind of like a sorority and... I admit it, I'd do anything to join."

"We don't have a Secret-" Elizabeth started.

Mia cut her off. "Would you really do _anything_?" she asked, stepping forward.

I pretended not to notice Kyle give Mia a long look as I said, "Yeah. In fact, I already have a suggested initiation idea."

"We're listening," Mia said with a sinister smile. She and Elizabeth moved forward, the three of them forming a semicircle around me.

"It would be crazy and I might get suspended or even arrested, but what if I broke into Mr. Brown's house and stole his-"

"Underwear." Mia smiled. I paused in surprise and, trying not to frown, watched her laugh before saying, "Steal his underwear, all of it, and put it in Lanie Russell's locker."

Kyle shook her head, but smiled. "That's so dumb."

Um, yeah, not to mention that if I showed __ up in _ReGenesis_ with a pile of men's underwear, Moira __ wasn't going to give me the antidote...

I tried to think of something to say, but my thoughts were cut off by Mia declaring, "Exactly! It's dumb, pointless, and dangerous, which is exactly the kind of challenge you need to take on to be a part of our secret society."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

As long as I got into Mr. Brown's house, I could always steal the hard drive _and_ the underwear if I had enough time.

"I'm in." I nodded, meeting Mia's delighted eyes. "I'll do it today. _Right now_. Do you guys know where Mr. Brown lives?"

"I'm not breaking into a teacher's house," Elizabeth said, her voice void of Disney-Princess sweetness and returning to its typical hardcore state.

"He doesn't live in a house. He lives in an apartment, and _we're_ not breaking in. Drew is," Mia said, her voice drowning out Elizabeth's protests. She turned to me. "His apartment is only five minutes away. I'll drive."

Simultaneously relaxing and freaking out as my crazy plan began to fall into place, I smiled. "Actually, I'll drive. Just show me where to go."

#

_Present Day - March 2, 2015_

I stare blankly at Mr. Brown's television, my thoughts returning to the present.

"...so tune in for the ride of your life, because tonight is going to be a really great show," Chad Block says with a wink and smile.

I tear my eyes away from Chad's smile and reach for the hard drive attached to Mr. Brown's laptop.

So much has happened in the past six months. I came to Louisiana, determined to hate it and get back to my career ASAP. Now, here I am barely even thinking about my career as I risk my life for a boy who I seem to have fallen in love with. And as scary and insane as the past few days have been, I'd rather be right here, risking my neck for Benjamin Morris, than back home in L.A.

If I'd never left L.A., I would've never met Ben. I would've never sat with him in my car under Louisiana's fat, gray rainclouds, hearing him tell me, "You're strong and you'll be okay." And if I were still in L.A., I'd be the same prejudiced snob who- refusing to admit that she's afraid to let people in- puts up walls by looking down on everyone.

Hard drive in hand, I glance at Mr. Brown's television again. An episode of some unrecognizable show from the 90's is on.

I take a deep breath.

_How long have I been standing here, staring into space?_

Just as I'm thinking this, Mia's bossy voice sounds in my earpiece, "Drew!" She's so loud, I jump and nearly drop the hard drive that's in my hand.

Quickly unzipping my backpack, I dump the hard drive inside. "Kyle can't keep Mr. Brown distracted forever," Mia hisses through the earpiece. "She can only keep him on the phone for, like, five more seconds. If you're still in his room, get out and go back to the kitchen."

Ugh. I still need Mr. Brown's underwear. God knows I don't want to face those cheerleaders without his undies.

I whirl around and scan his room for a dresser. There _._ Stuffed in a corner, between the door that leads to his kitchen and his bed, sits a dusty old dresser.

"I hope you're out of his room," Mia says. "Because Kyle's telling him goodbye, like, right this second." As I run to the dresser, I realize this probably won't work.

Even so, I throw open the top drawer and come face to face with a stack of tighty-whities. I breathe a sigh of relief. Never in my life have I been more delighted to see a drawer full of men's underwear. I grab a generous amount - try not to think about what I'm touching or how well it's been washed - and shove the stolen goods into my backpack.

Using one hand to zip my backpack, I ease open the door that leads to his kitchen and slip inside. I gently shut the door behind me, my heart _pummeling_ my chest.

You'd think that after finding myself trapped in a burning building and then being abducted by a psychotic alien, this little breaking and entering stint wouldn't bother me, but nah, I'm scared beyond belief.

The door on the opposite end of the kitchen swings open and I jump, startled, as Mr. Brown walks in, his phone in his right hand.

"Sorry about that. It was a telemarketer. Everything all right?"

Everything _will_ be all right once I get the heck out of here.

"Yeah!" Nodding, I wave him off and head across the kitchen, towards his living room. "But I feel bad for taking up so much of your day off. I'll just go and get out of your hair now."

"Uh, are you sure?" He frowns. "I thought you wanted coffee."

"Nope, I'm good. Thanks." I smile, but keep making my way to his living room.

"Oh, okay," he says, uncertainty in that horn-like voice of his.

I speed walk over his rust-colored living room carpet, my sights set on the front door. _Must get to front door, must get to front door, must-_

"Hold on a second, Drew!" Mr. Brown exclaims, his voice cutting into my resolve and paralyzing my feet.

Craaaaaaap! Does he know I took it? He can't know ... can he?

My mouth goes dry and my heart is just, like, on the verge of bursting out of my chest, but because I'm a masochist, I don't bolt. Instead, I turn around and face Mr. Brown.

His face is red and his hands are in his pockets. He brings one out to push his glasses up on his nose. "I think," he quietly says, his tone grave. "I know why you're here. The real reason."

I'm not quite breathing. But a steady stream of possibilities flash through my mind at incomprehensible speed. How does he know? And what exactly does he think he knows? Did Megs warn him that I'd come for his hard drive? But, why would she do that? She's one of my closest friends. Or, did Ms. Karin somehow get in my head and read my thoughts and warn him?

"I felt it too." Mr. Brown's words interrupt my racing thoughts. He takes a step towards me. "Our connection."

"Our connection," I repeat. "Do you mean, like, a... romantic connection?"

He glances down as if he's collecting his thoughts. With this, he looks up, and meets my eyes. "Yes, Drew. That's exactly what I mean."

Dark clouds part, birds sing, and sunshine showers me in heavensent bliss. This, as disgusting and uncomfortable as it is, is something I can _totally_ handle. I exhale in relief.

I offer him my brightest fake smile. "Was I that obvious?"

"Between the way you dress for my class, the way you look at me, and now _this_." He looks me up and down. It takes everything I have to keep smiling as he moves towards me. "How could I not notice?"

"When you put it that way." I laugh and discreetly back away. Hopefully, I can bolt before this gets even weirder.

"Some things even an actress can't hide," he says as he pushes his glasses - which, now that I'm this close to him, I can see are very dirty - up on his nose. He touches my arm, letting his hand linger there. My stomach turns as he nods towards his room. "Now that it's just you and me, there's no need for us to hide our feelings. Would you like to see my room?"

I nearly gag.

"T-that's, um." I pause to collect myself and take another step back. The doorknob hits my backpack, reassuring me that a quick escape is possible. "That's so tempting," I lie. "But I'd better get going. Like I said earlier, I have an appointment. People are waiting on me."

He runs a finger up and down my arm and I shiver in disgust. I need to get out of here, like, yesterday.

"You're nervous. That's okay, Drew. Trust me, I am too. We can just talk, get to know each other better." He takes my hand and I instinctively shove him away. He stumbles backwards, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Dude, _I_ _said_ _no_ ," I say as I grab the doorknob. Fear blossoms in Mr. Brown's eyes and they dart from me to the doorknob.

"Hold on - wait," he says, starting towards me.

Before either of us can say another word, the door opens from the other side and Elizabeth O'Brien bursts through. The cheerleader pushes past me, strides up to Mr. Brown, and slams her costume-jewelry-infested fist into his face. He reels backwards and she kicks him in the groin. Mr. Brown's face twists in pain as he leans over and moans like a wounded animal.

I stare at Elizabeth in shock.

She nods to the opened door, which I'm blocking, and looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Do you want to stay here? Or are we leaving?"

"L-leaving," I stammer, still in shock.

As we hurry out of Mr. Brown's apartment, Mia's voice, actually Mia's _laugh_ , erupts in my ear as she says, "Oh my God, Drew! I wish I could've seen that. You _have to_ tell me what you and Elizabeth just did!"

My shock is beginning to thaw and morph into something that I can only label as annoyed-panic. I'm scared for Ben, irritated with Mr. Brown, with Mia, and with myself. This is too much. I don't know if I can do this...

I pull the earpiece out and reach under my shirt to rip off the accompanying wire as I stumble towards the stairs.

"This has to work," I mutter and stop to lean on the banister at my right. I feel disgusting and stupid... like I've done something wrong. But I haven't. This was all but for Ben. I have to save him. That's the only thing that matters.

Wrapping my hand around the cool metal of the banister, I take a deep breath and try to collect myself. He's going to get better after all of this... but, what if he doesn't? What if the antidote doesn't even work?

Still clutching the banister, I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Drew?" Elizabeth's voice, coming from somewhere below me, sends my eyes open.

I release the banister and look down to see her staring up at me from the second flight.

"Are you okay?" she asks, making her way up the stairs. Her footsteps echo in my ears. I take another deep breath, trying to shake off the sudden wave of annoyed-panic.

"I should have asked you that earlier," she says, pausing mid-stride.

"I'm fine." I shrug and then start down the stairs towards her, stopping when I'm on the step above hers. "And thanks for your help. _I_ should have said that earlier."

"No problem," she replies, her voice as clipped and distant as ever.

But, for some reason, neither of us moves and we're forced to _really_ look at each other.

Elizabeth O'Brien is exceptionally pretty, but her makeup is always faded by this time of day, a sure sign that it's hella cheap. And although her clothes are cute, they're worn. Then, there's the ever-present frown, which I think has something to do with Elizabeth wanting people to take her seriously.

I watch her, likewise, size me up and tilt her head as she comes to some silent conclusion. With this, she turns and heads down the stairs.

If she's judging me, I don't blame her; what would _I_ think of a girl who was this desperate to become one of Mia Reeves friends? It's not like I can tell Elizabeth the real reason why I'm doing this.

I sigh and follow her down the stairs.

"You'll hate me for saying this, but I'm going to say it anyway," she pipes up, her heels loud on the stairs.

"Go ahead." Steeling myself, I watch the back of her blonde - and kind of pointy - head bob up and down as she moves down the stairs.

"You shouldn't do stuff like that because one day you're going to do it when you're on your own and it's not going to end well." She speaks quickly, like she's afraid I'm going to interrupt her. "Maybe back home, where you're almost famous, you can mess around and nobody takes it seriously. But you can't do that here. Don't let Mia talk you into situations like this. It's not worth it."

"Thanks for the tip, Elizabeth." I roll my eyes, annoyed by how right she is. "That means a lot coming from someone who hangs around with Mia twenty-four-seven."

She shakes her head and makes a "tsk" noise, muttering, "I don't get it." Before I know it, she's stopped walking and I nearly crash into her as she turns around, frowning up at me.

"What don't you get?" I demand and my gaze goes to the fist Elizabeth used to punch Mr. Brown with. She's wearing five _huge_ rings. My mouth goes Sahara Desert dry and I gulp.

My book bag suddenly feels like it weighs a ton and I just want to get back to my car, even if it means facing Mia and her begging me for details about the stupidity that just went down.

"You have money, a family, and a nice guy who likes you, but you act like..." Her frown deepens while she searches for the right word. "A skank."

"Excuse me?" I take a step back, trip on the stair behind me and grab onto the banister before I completely fall. With all the dignity I can muster, I hold onto the railing and hiss, "Did you just call me a skank?"

"No." She arches an eyebrow. "I didn't _call_ you a skank. I said you _act like_ a skank and I don't understand why. You're smart and rich. I don't get it."

"Well..." My voice trails off because I have no idea what to say.

"And why are you even here? Why are wasting your time stealing some teacher's underwear just so you can be friends with Mia?" Elizabeth shakes her head and turning around, waves me off. "If I had what you had, I wouldn't waste it."

From her perspective, I don't have a leg to stand on. She doesn't know about Ben, so from all appearances, she's at least partially right. _But_ , I'm still annoyed because... who does this chick think she is? I don't even know her and she's lecturing me.

I follow her down the stairs and say, "You don't 'get me' because you don't know anything about me. If _your_ mother was America's favorite alcoholic and you moved to a town where no one took you seriously because of the color of your skin, I bet you wouldn't be so self-righteous."

Elizabeth whirls around so quickly that the tips of her hair hit me in the face and I stumble backwards. I grab onto the railing for dear life and right myself.

Elizabeth leans forward, her lips curled into a snarl. I take a cautious step back.

"My mom is a stripper. My dad just robbed Corner Mart and now he's in jail. And the piece-of-crap trailer we live in just lost electricity." Elizabeth's voice is low and her face is turning red. "No, I'm not black. And I'm not deaf, meaning I hear it loud and clear when my 'friends' call me white trash behind my back. So, Drew, no - I'm not self-righteous. I'm _smart_. And based on what I've just seen, you aren't."

She finally backs away from me and exhales. As she glances down and pushes her hair away from her face, I notice that her hands are shaking.

A streak of pity courses through me. I'm pretty sure she didn't mean to tell me half of what just came out of her mouth.

Elizabeth looks at me, and I bite down on my bottom lip, not sure what to say.

"If you tell anyone _any_ of what I just said, I'll kill you," she says in a low voice. "Literally. Kill. You."

I don't doubt she'd try.

I move past her down to the next step. "Of course I'm not going to say anything, but not because you threatened me. I'm not scared of you." Behind me, Elizabeth's shoes hit the stairs with thud after thud as she follows me. "I won't tell because I think we should be friends."

She snorts. "Oh my God, seriously? What do you think this is? One of those lame movies you play in?"

"No, Elizabeth, I don't confuse reality with Hallmark movies." I turn around and put my hand on my hip. "I don't _want_ to be Mia's friend. I'm not dumb. Do you think I just _happened_ to be hanging out with my sister in the mall when I passed you guys? I planned that and made up that lame secret society garbage because I needed something from Mia. If I _wanted_ a friend, I wouldn't try to find one in a stuck-up racist. And, listen, if you want us to be enemies, fine. I don't care. I was just trying to be nice."

Elizabeth's staring at me like I'm a giant talking potato who just asked her if unicorns exist, so I actually do feel kind of lame for bringing up the whole "we should be friends" thing. Maybe I have been watching too many of my old Hallmark and Lifetime movies.

"Nah, man. Of course we can hang out or whatever," Elizabeth says, losing her frown. She narrows her eyes and looks down. "But you really can't say anything about..."

Her voice trails off and I nod. "I won't. I promise."

She glances at me again, almost suspiciously.

Well, this is awkward.

I start down the stairs and Elizabeth's footsteps sound behind me.

I readjust my backpack. "So, why are _you_ always with Mia and Kyle if you don't like them?"

"Same reason you are," she says with a sigh. "I like being popular, as dumb as that sounds. And Mia's not the greatest friend in the world, but once you get to know her and Kyle, they have this way of getting under your skin."

"Like a splinter?"

Elizabeth chuckles. "Nah. Kyle's actually hilarious if you can get her to relax and Mia's... needy and spoiled, but she's so bad off that you hate to just leave her hanging. Eventually, you'll see what I mean."

Taking in this information, I ask, "What about them? Why do they hang out with you? Is it just because you're on the cheerleading team?"

Elizabeth laughs. "Good question. They know I'm not rich, but if they knew how poor I am, I bet they'd cross me off their friend list in seconds. I'm..."

She goes on but I slow down, opening my palm and letting it run along the railing as I realize what Elizabeth's said. She just admitted that her dad robbed Corner Mart. Unless there was another Corner Mart robbery, Elizabeth's dad _has to be_ the guy who Ms. Karin caught thanks to one of her students thinking about her father's plans to rob a store.

As I take the last step down, I hear Elizabeth's voice behind me, but I'm not really listening to what she's saying. The other night, Ms. Karin and I talked nearly endlessly about her being Unseen, but she never once even alluded to the fact that the Corner Mart robber who I'd pulled the gun on was Elizabeth O'Brien's father.

Elizabeth's still talking as we make our way to my car, which is parked across the street, in a different apartment complex. Mia and Kyle are still inside and they wave when they see us.

Elizabeth and I wave back. But my wave is robotic, because I'm still thinking about Ms. Karin and how good she is at keeping secrets. I wonder what other secrets she's been keeping.

#

So, Mia's house is huge.

I take in the sight of the immaculate foyer with its marble floors and soft pink walls where Victorian-era paintings hang and realize her parents must be beyond loaded.

"Your house is beautiful," I confess, impressed.

She glances at me, tossing her hair as she chews some poor piece of gum to death. "You're from Beverly Hills; you're use to this."

Correction: We lived in Beverly Hills, but our house was nothing like this. Of course, I don't dare tell Mia this.

"Yeah, I'm used to nice houses," I say. "But this is more than nice."

"Come on, follow me. Hopefully my mom's not home and we won't have to deal with her," Mia says, pushing Kyle out of her way as she exists the foyer.

I glance at Kyle who scowls at her friend and says, "Don't push me."

We make our way into the living room, where I pause, distracted by the beautiful golden chandelier above my head. Directly ahead, on the other side of the room, a statue of a naked man and woman, their limbs entwined, is situated a foot or so away from grandiose picture windows overlooking one of the most beautiful gardens I've ever seen.

If appreciating beauty had a caloric intake, stepping into this room and looking around would leave me, at the very least, morbidly obese and probably diabetic.

Ahead of me, Kyle and Mia's footsteps click-clack against the marble floor, hitting it in unison.

Ironically, though their footsteps are in sync, their opinions aren't because, at the moment, they're arguing.

I hurry to catch up with the arguing friends as they head to the left and round another corner.

"....yeah, but why did you say that?" Mia demands, and then glances over her shoulder, shouting, "Drew, keep up! If the maid finds some black girl wandering around our house, she'll call the cops."

Shocked, I pause mid stride and stare at Mia. She meets my eyes and laughs before turning back to Kyle.

The beauty of the house fades around me, and I remind myself that once I use Mia's computer to check Mr. Brown's hard drive for the fingerprint database, I can get out of here.

I don't blame Elizabeth for ditching us when Mia insisted we spend the rest of the afternoon at her house. I was actually very impressed with Elizabeth for standing her ground when the brat threw a tantrum and refused to "let" Elizabeth leave even though _I_ was driving, and who went where was _my_ prerogative.

"Mia!" Kyle's sharp tone makes me look up as I follow them around a corner. "You literally _pushed_ me out of your way - that's not okay. I'm not one of your boyfriends. Don't push me around!"

Yeah, because pushing your boyfriend around is totally okay. I roll my eyes. Jesus, these girls are awful.

Around the corner is a large, ornate staircase that reminds me of the one in _Gone With The Wind_.

"Sorry, not sorry," Mia says in a singsong voice as she heads up the stairs. "Anyway, I wanted to show you..." She keeps talking and I tune her out as I follow them up the stairs, reach into the outside zipper of my backpack, grab my phone, and check the time.

4:05 PM.

My heart sinks. Time is going by so fast. I need to check this hard drive _now_ because if it, somehow, doesn't have the fingerprint database, I'll need time to figure out a Plan B.

"Hey, Mia?" I say, interrupting whatever she's going on about.

She and Kyle stop walking to turn around, and two sets of arched eyebrows are aimed in my direction. I get the feeling that even though I've been invited to share their company, they still have a problem with me. Whatever _._ Despite what they think, I'm not here to make friends.

"Do you mind if I use your computer for a second?" I ask. "It's kind of important."

"Yeah, use the one in my room," she mumbles, before turning back to her trek up the stairs.

"The computer's on the other side of that window," Mia says.

I follow Kyle into Mia's room.

_Whoa_. This room is insane. I pause just a few feet outside of the doorway while Kyle and Mia continue on. I look around at the ivory walls trimmed with ornate gold detail. Each wall has at least one gargantuan, high-fashion black and white photo of Mia. Even my sister would have to admit that the shots are good.

Easing my way into the immaculate room, I look down and notice that the floors are solid oak, which is quite different from the rest of the house.

To my right is a huge ivory-white and turquoise bed. It's even bigger than mine and unlike mine, it has actually been made, tons of tiny pillows decorating it. My bed is only made when I remember to ask Ms. Mona to clean my room.

Mia's vanity and dresser to my left are neat and orderly. On her ivory-and-gold vanity, a black and white picture of Ran, laughing as he looks down, sits beside her mirror. On top of her dresser is one small picture of Mia as a little girl, sitting between a grinning man with blonde hair and blue eyes and an extremely pale woman with long golden hair and pretty blue eyes.

Curious, I walk to the dresser and peer at the picture.

Mia looks a lot like her mother, just not as pale.

"The computer's over _here_." Mia's sharp tone snaps me back to reality.

What am I doing? I need to use her computer, check the hard drive, and then get the heck out of here, not look at pictures. Turning away from the dresser and her family picture, I head towards the computer on the opposite side of her room.

As I pass Mia and Kyle, who sit on her bed, opening a small, pink laptop, I feel their eyes on me. Whatever.

Rolling my eyes, I shrug off my backpack and slide into her computer chair. I try not to focus on my annoyance with the cheerleaders as I lean over and turn on Mia's PC.

I just need to focus on getting Ben's antidote.

"See this... ?" Mia's saying over my shoulder and I don't bother turning around, but I have a feeling she's showing Kyle something online. "Remember how much weight I gained and how I kept getting nauseous?"

"Oh my God, yeah, I would've thought the same thing," Kyle agrees.

I reach into my backpack, grab the hard drive and attach it to the port on Mia's computer.

"Thank God I was wrong. I would've had to run away for nine freaking months. "

I freeze, my hand just above the port. __ Without turning around, I watch Kyle and Mia's reflection in the computer screen.

"Seriously? You'd just run away?" Kyle asks, a tinge of disbelief in her tone.

"Yeah, if I told her, she would've made me get rid of it. The baby would be half black for God's sake," Mia quietly replies. I watch her look down at the pillow in her lap. She runs her index finger along the gold thread of its design.

Holy cow. I swear, it's like I've stepped into a town that's stuck in the 1950s. Who "goes away" just because they're pregnant? And who cares that their baby is "half black"? So lame. Also, if Mia thought she was pregnant with a black guy's baby... that means she was cheating on Ran.

"Your mom cares about you, she just, um..." Kyle searches for the right words. "She just doesn't know how to take care of you. Or anyone, actually. Not even herself. "

"Yeah. She definitely never knows what to do with me. To start off, _she_ should've had an abortion when she found out she was pregnant with me," Mia says with a dry chuckle.

"Don't say that," Kyle quickly says.

A pink and white window that says, "Welcome To Your Computer, Mia!" flashes on screen and I focus on the computer as all of Mia's programs appear.

Tuning out the rest of the girl's weird and quite personal conversation, I focus on opening Mr. Brown's hard drive. I scan the programs and files that come up, which is quite a task because Mr. Brown has _tons_ of information on here. There are employee files, honor roll lists, guidance counselor's guidelines on dealing with suicidal students, insurance documents, and student files.

Student files! That might be it. I click on the folder, my palms sweating as I wait for it to open.

"...but why _Josh_?" Kyle exclaims, her voice piping up from behind me. "Out of all the guys in South Louisiana High, you chose Josh?"

Mia laughs. "Have you _seen_ his body?"

"Who hasn't?" Kyle retorts. "He's a complete ho."

"I know, but think about it," Mia says. "If you want to make your boyfriend jealous, you hang out with a guy of equal or surpassing hotness and Josh is ..."

Tuning out Mia's drama, I squint into the screen, scanning the contents of the student files.

_There it is - the Student Fingerprint Database!_

My heart is beating almost as fast as it did when I'd initially found myself in _ReGenesis_. I double click the small black icon and watch it open into a system that has each student's picture, basic information, and fingerprint arranged in alphabetical order.

This is it. Now I can get Ben back.

My fingers are shaking as I close the database and turn Mia's computer off.

"Hey, Mia," I say, deaf to whatever part of their TMI-ish conversation I'm interrupting. "I'm going to say goodbye. I have some things to do."

I reach down to unplug the hard drive as Mia says, "Getting tired of my racist company?"

Carefully placing the hard drive into my backpack, I zip it up and turn to her. "Little bit, yeah."

She flips her hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes, chuckling.

I have no idea why she's laughing and frankly I don't care, I just want to get out of here.

Kyle leans against one of Mia's pillows and smiles at me. "Well at least _I'm_ kind of hilarious if you can get me to relax, right?"

"Yeah," Mia chimes in, "once you get to know us, we get under your skin. Like a splinter."

I freeze.

_Oh... wait a second..._

I cringe as it dawns on me that back at Mr. Brown's, I took the wire off, but I __ didn't _turn it off_ when I was talking to Elizabeth. That means Mia and Kyle must have heard every word of our conversation on the stairs.

Unsure of what to say, I hoist the backpack onto my shoulders, avoid their eyes and make my way to the door. "I'm sorry you heard that, and I hope you won't tell anyone what Elizabeth said."

"I already knew!" Mia screams.

Incidentally, this is the title of the last movie I was in, but I barely think about this as Mia's scream rips into the air and stops me mid-step. She scrambles to her feet and heads my way.

_Oh, God_. Sighing, I steel myself for whatever this psycho cheerleader is going to try and do to me.

"You think I'm prejudiced?" she demands.

I take a step back and Mia moves closer. Mere inches from my face, she shouts, " _You're_ the one who comes here, making fun of _us_ , calling us swamp rats to your stupid geek friends who follow you around like dogs! You act like you're some kind of princess whose been forced to live among peasants and _you're_ calling _me_ prejudiced?"

I frown.

I, honest to God, didn't realize that I'd been calling people swamp rats out loud. I thought I'd only said it in my head. But I guess what's in your head eventually comes out of your mouth.

"You're right," I say as I discreetly take another step back. "I'm wrong for saying that. But you're wrong too, Mia. You say some pretty racist stuff. "

"I'm screwing a black guy, Drew!" Mia screams, her face reddening. "How racist am I now?"

"What's your point? I'm in love with a geek, but that doesn't mean I'm _not_ a snob. It means I'm a snob who's in love with a geek," I say, moving towards her. "Mia, you say prejudiced stuff all the time, because that's just who you are. You're an ignorant bigot. Even Elizabeth knows that, which is why she doesn't tell you anything about her life. She knows you'll just-"

Stomping her foot so hard that I jump, Mia screams, "I said _I already knew_! I know where E lives, and I know where her mom works, because I had to go to her mom's strip club and bribe the woman into letting her daughter stay on the cheerleading team! I'm _not_ a bad person."

"What? You bribed Elizabeth's mother?" I ask, glancing at Kyle, who, still chillaxing on Mia's bed, nods.

"And she never told anybody E's secret," Kyle pipes up. "So maybe you shouldn't be so judgmental."

I look at Mia, whose breathing hard and resembling a bite-sized Incredible Hulk.

"Sorry." I shrug, adjusting my backpack and feeling... a little confused. "I'm sorry."

"I know what everyone thinks!" Mia exclaims, her eyes filling. "Perfect Mia, with her perfect life and everything's so easy for her! Poor spoiled Mia. No! NO! I have problems, real problems, Drew! My life is hell!"

Mia kicks the side of her bed and screams. In the distance, I hear the sound of glass breaking and I jump, startled by the noise. I glance at Kyle. Kyle must not have noticed the noise, because her eyes are still on Mia as she leaves her comfortable spot against a pillow and scoots toward Mia.

"It _is_ hard," Kyle says in a gentle voice that I don't think I've ever heard her use before. "But you do great at dealing with everything. "

"Do I?" Mia plops down beside Kyle. "My boyfriend won't touch me and everybody at school thinks I'm this hot girl with no problems when really, I don't have any real friends and... and deep down, I know I'd be better off dead. I shouldn't exist. No one knows how much of a freak I am."

"You're not a freak, Mia," Kyle quietly says.

"I am. You have no idea." Mia shakes her head. Tears spill from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. One right after the other. "I should've never been born. No one understands..." Mia puts her face in her hands and starts to sob. Kyle wraps her arms around her, and I stand there, stunned, helpless.

Oh. My. God.

Coming to, I blink away my shock and slip off my backpack.

Sure, Mia's delivery came across as slightly insane, but I understand what she's going through, maybe even more than Kyle does. With this, I make my way to the bed and sit beside Mia.

Kyle glances at me and pats Mia on the back. "And Drew doesn't think you're prejudiced. She was just saying that."

Well, that's not exactly accurate.

"Mia," I say, trying to keep my voice gentle. She's still got her face in her hands, crying. "I think what you did for Elizabeth is awesome."

Still crying, she shakes her head. "You don't mean that."

"I do." I shake my head. "I can't lie. Any time I try, I get all sweaty and I start stuttering. So, trust me, I'm telling the truth."

She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing mascara and eyeliner on her hands.

"I'll get you some tissue from the bathroom," I offer, standing as I head to the other side of her room, where I saw a door that looked like it would open into a bathroom.

"That's a closet. Bathroom's over there," Kyle calls after me and points to another door to the right of Mia's bedroom door.

I open it and step into an ivory bathroom equipped with a shower and a Jacuzzi that's even larger than mine. So not fair. I turn to grab a handful of toilet paper and notice that one of the large mirrors surrounding her sink has cracked. I stare at it, realizing that it must have been what I heard cracking when Mia had her meltdown. Weird that it just cracked like that. Shrugging this off, I hurry back to Mia's bed, where she sits, tearfully talking to Kyle.

"... no one understands me. I used to think I had Ran, that he understood. And there was this one night when he promised he'd always be there. I believed him. But now he's gone... and I'm pretty sure he's with Lanie... wherever she is. So, now I don't have anyone except you. And maybe Josh. And I don't deserve either of you."

Instead of handing her the tissues, I squat beside my backpack. Unzipping it, I pull out one of Mr. Brown's tighty-whities and get to my feet. I turn to Mia with underwear in one hand and a wad of tissue in the other. "Mr. Brown's brief's or tissue? Take your pick."

Mia looks at me and rolls her eyes. "I'll go with the one that _hasn't_ touched his STD-ridden balls."

I hand her the tissues, say, "Good choice," and then sit down, feeling like an idiot.

If I wasn't so judgmental in the first place, she wouldn't have had this meltdown. I _really_ did look at Mia, the way she talks, dresses, and then made my assumptions as I sat back and watched her, waiting for the wrong words to slip out of her mouth. When they did, I pounced.

"Mia," I say, watching her ball the tissue up in her fist. She turns to look at me. "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad. I didn't mean to."

She shrugs. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry too. For going crazy like this," she says with an awkward half-smile.

"It wasn't _that_ bad." I grin. "I live with crazy. Well, I _used_ to, until two days ago when crazy randomly decided to move to Sweden."

"Huh?" Kyle frowns at me.

"My mother, she's a washed-up actress. Didn't you see her on Chad Block's show about two months ago? She streaked?" I explain.

"Oh my God. I remember that." Mia laughs. Apparently realizing that she's laughing at my mother, Mia clamps a hand down over her mouth. But her eyes still sparkle with mirth. " _That_ was your mom?"

"Yeah," I say, fidgeting with Winnie's ring.

How could she not know that Lenora _Everett_ , the once-famous actress, is the mother of Drew _Everett_ the up and coming teen actress? Everyone knows that.

"Sorry, I didn't know. You guys look so different." She sniffs and then uses the tissue to wipe her nose. "So, your mom's white?"

Dear God... this again, really?

I try not to sigh as I shake my head. "No, Mia. Not all black people are dark-skinned."

"But-"

"Her mother was Italian-American and her father was African-American," I mumble. "So, I guess that makes her human."

Mia narrows her eyes. "I was just asking. You don't have to get all defensive."

I glance at the cheerleader. Her red cheeks are still stained with tears. What if I were her? What if I were a rich, white girl who was born in a racist town? Would I be any different than Mia Reeves?

I zip up my backpack and say, "Maybe the smell of Mr. Brown's tighty-whities is making me cranky."

"You can't fool me, Drew," Mia says with a sniff. "I can tell you're totally into Mr. Brown. It's more like the smell is making you _horny_. Speaking of Mr. Brown, I recorded everything he said. I'm going to show it to the principal sometime next week. You cool with that?"

I pull my backpack on over my shoulders and glance at Mia. "I'm all for getting him fired, but I think it's illegal to record someone without their knowledge."

"It's also illegal to sleep with a sixteen-year-old student for, like, three months and give her a STD she can't get rid of..." Mia mumbles.

I blink back at her. "Um, are you saying, uh, you..."

"Yeah," Mia nods. "That's what I'm saying."

Wow.

"Okay. Well, talk to the principal and I will a thousand percent have your back," I promise. I glance at the clock on Mia's nightstand. This is important and all, but I really need to get back to the business of saving Ben's life.

"Drew." Mia narrows her eyes at me. "I'm here, like, trying to have this deep moment with you or whatever, and you're looking at my clock like I'm boring you. "

"No, you're not. It's just that..." I hesitate, wondering how I can explain this without getting into detail. "Remember when I said I'm in love with a geek? Well, I for reals _am_. And something's happened to him, so I need to-"

"Drew, come on." Mia interrupts, rolling her eyes. "You don't actually _love_ Ben Morris. That's retarded."

"How'd you know I was talking about Ben?" I squeak.

"He's always following you around. Everyone knows he's into you. And yeah, it's cute but he's so... like..." She scrunches up her nose. "He's just so white."

"But he's also adorable," Kyle says, turning to Mia.

I look at these two ridiculous girls sitting side by side and the truth of what Elizabeth said hits me- they really do get under your skin once you get to know them.

I grin at Kyle. "He _is_ adorable and that's why I need to-" Before I can finish my sentence, my phone rings.

"That my phone?" Kyle asks, glancing around.

"No, it's mine." I pull my backpack off and open the outside pocket where I stuck my phone.

"Is it Ben?" Kyle asks, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Smiling, I glance down at my phone. It's a number I don't recognize. All of a sudden, Mia's perfectly manicured nails are on my phone, yanking it out of my hands.

"Give it back!" I shout.

But she jumps on her bed and puts the phone close to her mouth, breathing heavily, as she says, "Ben, I've been waiting all day for you to call me."

"Mia!" I hiss. "That could be someone important!"

"Is this Drew Everett?" a girl yells from the other line.

The girl sounds familiar, but I can't put my finger on who she is.

Mia and I look at each other - she's frowning and tilting her head, like she's trying to figure out who it is too.

"Yeah?" I shout, as Mia sits and slides across the bed, closer to where I stand.

"You're disgusting!" the girl shouts. "First you make out with my boyfriend in the middle of the hallway and now you're after someone else? Whoever 'Ben' is, I feel sorry for him, because he's probably going to get some kind of disease from your nasty-"

_Oh no..._ I groan, collapsing onto Mia's bed; I know exactly who this voice belongs to.

Mia's bed shakes as Kyle bolts upright and whispers, "That's Via Nguyen, Heath's girlfriend!"

I wrench my phone out of Mia's hands and say the first thing that comes to mind, "Via, I'm sorry I-"

"Yeah, you're sorry - that's obvious!" Via screams. "Leave my boyfriend alone. He doesn't want you!"

Mia grabs my phone and leans against her pillows. "Hi, there. This is Mia. Here's a thought: Admit that you got implants, because everyone already knows and it makes you look pathetic when you lie and say you didn't."

"I did _not_ get implants!" Via screams from the other line.

I glance at Kyle and she's covering her mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly.

"Really? She has implants?" I whisper.

Kyle rolls her eyes and shakes her head no.

A smile forms on my own lips as I turn back to Mia, who goes on. "Also, before you harass any of my friends for 'stealing' your so-called boyfriend, you might want to ask Heath why he's always hitting on other girls, you stupid sclunt! "

Mia just called me one of her friends. That's... interesting.

"Heath didn't hit on Drew! _She_ was the one who-" Via starts.

"Call Drew's phone again and I'll tell Heath about that guy I saw you all over at the mall." Mia interrupts, glancing at her nails and sighing. "You remember him, the one who looks way older than you. Cute, Asian... he kissed you on the cheek?"

" _What?_ " Via screeches. "Mia, that was _my brother_!"

"In that case, I won't tell Heath. I'll tell _everyone_ and instead of being the school slut, you'll be the school's Greek Tragedy. Call Drew again and I will literally _ruin_ your life," Mia snaps and then hanging up, tosses the phone my way. "Tell me if she calls you back."

I catch my phone and glance at the girl who's decided to label me as one of her "friends."

"Thanks," I say, slightly confused. If Mia heard my entire conversation with Elizabeth, including the part where I told Elizabeth that I didn't really want to be friends with her and Kyle, then why is she calling me one of her friends now?

Mia smiles, her perfect teeth gleaming pearly white. "We shouldn't put Mr. Brown's underwear in Lanie's locker. We should put it in Via's."

I ease off the bed and start for my backpack.

"I have a better idea," Kyle says shaking her head as she jumps off the bed and comes around to where I am. "Put it in Heath's locker! _He_ tried to cheat on Via with Drew. It's his fault."

"You guys are insane," I say while I slide my backpack on over my shoulders. As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel like Megs. This makes me frown... I said that because these girls are hella annoying and while a part of me likes them, I mostly just want to get away from them before they make me one of their targets.

Is that how Megs feels around me _?_

I sigh and glance across the room at Mia.

"...yeah, let's do it." Turning to me she points and snaps her fingers. "That's your homework, Drew. Get those tighty-whities in Heath's locker."

"Sure," I agree. "That was a good idea, Kyle. Hey, you guys, I need to go. I'll see you later..." I say, heading for the door.

"Are you going to see Ben?" Kyle asks.

Trying not to imagine the way Ben looked when I last saw him, gray and small and not at all like himself, I blink away the image and ignore the way my breath is catching in my throat as I nod. "Yeah."

"I'll walk you out," Mia says moving past me to her bedroom door.

"And I'll stay right here, because I want to play on your computer," Kyle says as she heads to the laptop on Mia's bed.

While Kyle waves goodbye, I wonder if my "fake" friendship with these girls was really just a ploy to get their help with the break-in, or if deep down, a part of me hoped they'd like me. I return Kyle's wave and follow Mia into the hallway.

She starts talking, loudly and over her shoulder, about how much she loves Rhianna's hair... or something.

"...Rosie Huntington is like a white Rhianna and I think she kind of looks like me and I wish she'd get her hair cut like Rhianna's, then I'd know for sure how I'd look..."

"Oh, yeah?" I reply, not really listening to Mia, but realizing that if I honestly had _no_ interest in friendship with her and Kyle, then the fact that they seem to have accepted me wouldn't make me so happy.

The thing is...

I frown as I watch Mia toss her hair over her shoulder and start down the stairs.

...even though I'm not quite sure _why_ they've accepted me, I'm glad they have.

#

"He was in pain." Ms. Morris whispers, her hand covering mine. "So, they gave him morphine."

I can't take my eyes off of Ben. I want to crawl into his hospital bed, wrap my arms around him, and squeeze him until whatever it is that keeps me alive flows into him, bringing color to his gray cheeks, opening his eyes, and waking him up.

Instead of jumping into Ben's bed like a maniac, I tear my eyes away from him and turn to his mother. I ask her a question that I already know the answer to. "Is he any better?"

Her eyes water as she stammers, "We don't... it's... it's difficult to say. We don't know. The doctors say it's some kind of virus that's compromised his immune system, and it's causing renal failure. But we're not giving up."

Panic takes a hold of my breath, squeezing it out of my lungs. I can hardly breathe.

I have the hard drive Moira wants. I can make this better. _I can do this._

I place my free hand on top of Ms. Morris's, squeeze her hand, and look into her eyes. "Of course we're not giving up. He's going to get better. I promise."

Tears run down her cheeks and she leans forward, wrapping her arms around me. She's shaking, her entire body quaking, as the top of her head hits my chin.

"Don't worry," I whisper. I close my eyes and tighten my embrace. "He'll be all right."

#

"Y _ou're strong and you'll be okay."_

I open my eyes and stare at my ceiling, recalling how healthy and perfect Ben looked when he'd said those words to me.

"Now, I have to actually __ be what he thinks I am," I whisper.

I hop out of bed and scamper to my closet where I grab the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I see. Normally, I take time to perfect my entire look - but not today.

As I'm throwing on my t-shirt it dawns on me that there's a good chance Moira will try to kill me. After all, as soon as I give her what she needs, she'll have no use for me.

I take a deep breath and continue dressing.

It doesn't matter what _might_ happen to me. If there's even a slight chance Moira will save Ben's life, I've got to do this.

"Drew!" Mona shouts from just down the hall. "I need your help, please come here!"

I freeze at Mona's tone.

She sounds like something's wrong. What if Moira's _here_? She knows everything about me, so she must know where I live.

I grab my backpack containing the hard drive and bolt out of my room.

I FOLLOW MONA'S voice to the stairs and pause, scanning the air for the weird ripples that appear with the alien woman's entrance and departure.

I don't see any.

Carefully approaching the stairs, I start down them and pause at the sight before me.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mona is struggling to hoist my sister, who seems to be completely limp, to her feet.

"What happened?" I ask as I start down the stairs, two at a time. _Please let Clara be okay._

All at once, the smell of beer, sour and heavy, wafts my way and I pause in stride. Clara wouldn't... not after we talked about not being like Lenora _._

Mona looks up at me, her face red. "Please help me, Drew. I've got a bad back. I can't lift her on my own."

Coming to, I hurry to her side.

"Get behind her," Mona says. "And put your arms under her armpits; we'll carry her up that way. Let me go up first."

Following her instructions, I place my arms under Clara's, hoisting her as Mona lifts her feet. Clara groans.

"Did you just find her?" I ask.

Ms. Mona grunts and I glance at the older woman, hoping she doesn't drop my sister and send the three of us tumbling down the stairs.

"Yes, I got up and here she was, passed out drunk at the bottom of the stairs. She left last night, after you'd gone to bed. She must have come back early this morning," Ms. Mona explains, breathing heavily as she struggles up the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Drew," Clara mumbles.

"Shut up," I automatically say.

Mona pauses, looking at me as she opens her mouth to say something. Apparently thinking better of it, she closes her mouth and continues up the stairs.

"I'M GOING TO get her a glass of water," Mona quietly says while she tucks my drunken sister into bed as if she were an innocent child and not a self-gratifying alcoholic.

"I'm going to go." I inch away from Clara's bedside. "I have things to do."

"All right." Mona nods and offers me a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

Prepared to follow suit, I head for the door, when my sister mumbles, "Drew, wait."

I don't want to do this. Not now.

Annoyed, I turn to Clara. She's laying there, her eyes open, bloodshot and guilty, as she looks at me.

"What?"

"I didn't mean to, but I wanted to," she says, her voice small. "Except I don't, not anymore. I'm sorry."

Despite myself, I understand what Clara means. It's just like what led me to kiss Heath. A temporary lapse in judgment that led to a mistake I immediately wished I could take back.

"I know." I sigh. Clara lifts a hand to her eye and sighs at the exact same moment.

I watch her close her eyes, her hand still covering one of them as she mutters, "It's loud. Can you turn on the TV for noise?"

"If it's already too _loud_ , then why do you want the TV on?" I ask.

"Quiet, I mean. It's too quiet. I need noise," she mumbles.

I reach for the remote on her nightstand and turn on her television.

A news reporter stands in front of Alyssum Studios wreckage and says, "Police are calling the fire 'arson' and 'a deliberate act of malice.' An investigation is underway and in the meantime, Amelia Hearth's representatives are deciding what will be done with the Alyssum Studios South site. This is Monica Wheeler with National Eyewitness News..."

At the mention of Amelia's name, my heart takes a nosedive. I still can't believe she's gone.

I cross my arms and glare at the fading scene of Alyssum's ruins. I bet Moira's ship is somewhere near Alyssum Studios. I bet that's where I can find her.

Below me, Clara stirs and I look down to find her blinking up at me. "I don't want to disappoint you, Drew." With this, she closes her eyes and appears to fall asleep. I watch her breathing even out as she begins to ever so softly, snore. I reach out and gently move a stray strand of hair away from her face.

All at once, I'm aware of how small and vulnerable my sister looks.

"You're going to be okay," I whisper.

A sinking feeling takes hold of my heart, weighing it down. I tense. I love my sister, but I can't let my emotions get the best of me right now- today, I need to be stronger than I've ever been in my entire life, maybe even stronger than I _can_ be.

With one last glance at Clara, I slip away from her bedside and hurry out of her room.

#

Several unmanned police cars sit in front of Alyssum's taped-off remains and I'm glad I decided to get an early start. Showing up _after_ 6 AM probably would've meant showing up to a ton of cops and reporters.

Squinting at the charred buildings, I notice that one building, towards the back end of the complex, appears relatively unscathed. As I take a closer look at the building, I catch sight of what looks like a _landing strip_ on its roof.

Oh my God. Would it be so crazy for _ReGenesis_ to be invisible, like that invisible ship Ben saw the alien girl get inside of, and for it to be sitting right on top of the one building Moira didn't burn down?

I look around to ensure no one's watching and then duck under the police tape. Carefully stepping over debris and burnt tree limbs, I make my way towards the building.

A siren sounds behind me and I whirl around. A police car is pulling up to the curb.

_Crap._ I look around, desperate for somewhere to hide.

There's a charred oak tree to my left, so I make a run for it. Something hard rolls under my right foot and I gasp as my feet leave the ground. In a nanosecond, my butt is thudding against the wet grass.

Not cool. I wince and rub my butt as I glance left. The officer is just now getting out of her car, her back to me as she closes her door.

I scramble to my feet and look down at what I tripped over.

A flashlight.

You never know; I might need it.

Picking it up, I glance at the officer and duck down behind the half-burnt oak tree.

My backpack brushes the tree trunk as I lean back and check out my new flashlight. It's thick and has a circular button in the middle. I wonder if it works _._

I point it at the ground in front of me and press the button but no light appears.

Oh well, at least I can still use it to hit Moira if she tries to stiff me on Ben's antidote. Or at least... _try to_ hit her with it. She'll probably zap me with those fire-spewing palms of hers before I can even get one solid whack in.

Sighing, I absently press the flashlight's button again and it warms in my hand as a stream of white light shoots out of its bulb.

I gasp and drop the device, quickly inching away from it and squashing my backpack against the tree.

_What was that?_

A sizzling noise catches my attention and my gaze follows the sound to a burning hole in the ground a few feet in front of me.

My jaw drops.

The small hole, sizzling with heat as steam comes out of it, is all that remains of the area where the flashlight was aimed.

Okay. So, this is no flashlight. This is some kind of weapon.

Gingerly picking it up, I turn the device around. Nothing would give it away as anything other than an ordinary flashlight.

I unzip a side pocket on my backpack, slip the "flashlight" inside, and peer around the tree, looking for that police officer.

She's on her phone and sliding back into her car.

I get to my feet and run to the nearest tree, careful to avoid stepping on charred branches that will make noise if broken.

The building that I need to get to is still pretty far away, so I peer around the slender tree I've hidden behind and see the officer turn on her headlights and start her car.

Good.

Once she driven away, I hurry past Alyssum's front entrance and jog around to the west side of the main building. If I remember correctly, just behind the main building is a sidewalk path I can follow all the way to the back building, on top of which, I'm _hoping_ I'll find Moira's ship.

Even now, the smell of fire clings to the air and I wrinkle my nose.

As I jog along, I turn to look at the remains of Amelia's formerly beautiful main building - it's a depressing sight.

Glancing ahead, I see what's left of a once huge fountain in the center of the courtyard separating Alyssum's __ main building from Soundstage One. I slow to a walk and keep along the path.

The last building, tall and untouched by fire, looms in the distance.

As I walk around a fallen beam that's landed on the sidewalk, I look up towards the roof of Alyssum's one intact building _._

I'm almost sure Moira's up there. And I'm even surer of how much I distrust her - that whole story about the fingerprints and the rocket, it's all a little too vague...

As I approach Soundstage Two, I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, so I pick up the pace and start to run towards the last building.

...I mean, Moira said the rocket is supposed to help her planet, but how __ can _a rocket_ help a planet? The only thing a rocket does is transport people and information, right?

_Wait a minute._ I pause mid stride.

Don't some rockets also carry missiles?

I gulp.

What if those blueprints I saw weren't just of some rando "rocket?" What if they were details of some kind of _missile_? And what if she's going to use that missile to destroy Earth?

Actually, Moira said something about her people having a weakness that would lead to their extinction and the only way to stamp out that weakness is to send a rocket to _her planet_. So, what if "stamp out" means "kill" and she's actually trying to destroy the sick aliens on her planet?

I might be reaching, but I have a feeling that whatever Moira's looking for isn't just a "rocket." It's got to be some kind of missile. And I wouldn't trust that woman with a missile...

I look up at the Alyssum building, thinking hard.

But even if I'm right about Moira's evil plans, I can't lose Ben. And Moira is the only person I know with the antidote that can save him. I can't let him die.

I stare at the building, wanting to move towards it, but my legs aren't cooperating... deep down, I know I can't be responsible for the destruction of the people Moira plans to kill.

I don't know what to do. I need help. And I know exactly who to call...

I grab my phone from my backpack and call Ms. Karin. Seconds later, I'm mumbling a string of curses as Ms. Karin's voicemail picks up.

"I'm not available at the moment, but leave a message and I'll get back to you."

As soon as the beep sounds, I say, "Ms. Karin, I'm at Alyssum Studios and there's a huge problem happening here. So, as soon as you get this, _call me_. It's life or death, literally. I'm not exaggerating. There's this alien who-"

I stop talking as the building in front of me suddenly begins to look as though it's been submerged under water.

"Oh, God..." I mutter and, with shaking hands, slip my phone into my bookbag and slowly look around. Everything in the vicinity, the sky, the trees, the burned down remains of Alyssum - it's all covered in ripples.

"Moira?" I say.

She doesn't answer me. No, that would be too kind.

Instead, my feet are torn from the ground and I scream as the sensation of cold water - so cold that it burns - assaults my every pore. I stop screaming because the sound is echoing so loudly it hurts my ears. I close my eyes and try to calm down.

Clearly, it's too late for Ms. Karin or anyone else to help me. I'm going to have to figure out how to deal with Moira on my own.

#

My right shoulder and hip slam into a hard surface. The wind knocked out of me, I lie against the cold floor, trying to catch my breath.

My shoulder aches and, groaning, I open my eyes.

The first thing I see are Moira's black boots.

"Get up," she orders, her voice low.

The cold air around me, the smell of metal... we must be in _ReGenesis_.

For some reason, my vision is fuzzy, and I blink quickly as I stumble to my feet.

We're in a different section of her ship, a circular shaped room decorated in the same fake-oak paneling that was in the other room.

To my left, a humongous window displays the gray Louisiana sky, and just in front of the window, a brown chair is surrounded by a bunch of buttons and one large yoke - the kind you'd see in the cockpit of an airplane.

My shoulder is _really_ hurting.

"I take it you were looking for me," Moira says and, ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder, I focus on her.

"Yes," I reply, noting that aliens from planet Novus must like high ponytails. Moira's red hair is yet again pulled up into a high ponytail and she's clad in another one of her dark cat suits that screams dominatrix, but this one is midnight blue instead of pure black. Speaking of screaming, I'd really like to scream right now, but of course I don't.

Instead, I take a steadying deep breath and listen as she says, "You're clever; you knew where to find me."

"Thank you," I reply. I'm so nervous I could puke, but I straighten my spine and look her in the eye. "I have the fingerprints, but I need you to show me the antidote first."

"If my intention were to withhold my end of our deal, I would have already killed you and retrieved the information from your lifeless corpse," Moira calmly explains. "Give me the prints, I'll check their accuracy, and __ should the information you've supplied pass inspection, _then_ I will give you the antidote."

I repress a shiver, my heart pounding. This is it. All the aliens she's going to kill - all those deaths will happen because of me, because I'm saving one person.

But I _cannot_ let Ben die.

Every bit of my thespian genes are summoned as I force a blank expression and keep my breath as steady as possible.

"Moira," I reply, taking a step towards her. "The thing is, I want my friend to live and I need to be sure you'll-"

Moira's nostrils flare as she cuts me off, "I already gave you my word." Her boot-clad feet leave the ground and she floats towards me, extending one of her hands in a requesting gesture. "The prints - give them to me _now_."

My heart pounding, I say, "Okay." I slip off my backpack, kneel down, unzip the bag, and reach inside - the flashlight! I could totally unzip the side pocket, take out the fake flashlight laser thing and... _no_. What am I thinking? I can't gamble Ben's life on my ability to shoot an alien who's a million times stronger than me.

I reach past Mr. Brown's underwear, grab the hard drive, and stand as I hand it over.

Before I can blink, Moira's taken it and moved to the chair in front of the window. She connects the hard drive to a panel at the right of her chair.

Just above the panel's console, a small 3-D image of student IDs and fingerprints flash by, picture after picture displayed before us.

"Very good." Moira smiles, reaching out to press another button on the console.

All at once, beside the images of student pictures and fingerprints, the hidden rocket's blueprints appear.

She reaches up to the 3-D image of the blueprints and uses her finger to zoom into the rocket's fingerprint activation console. Then, as each of the student IDs and prints flash by, the words "Not Compatible" flash onscreen.

She's checking it right now. She's going to find out which student's fingerprints match the activation console. And that means she's one step closer to killing off a ton of Novu... all thanks to me.

I shift on my feet, guilt tearing through me.

Moira seems nervous, as her eyes, morphing from violet to brown, remain fixed on the images above the console. Without removing her gaze, she presses a button to her left and a small platform rises above the console. On the platform is a single, capped needle.

My heart skips a beat.

Please let that be for Ben _._

Without looking at me, Moira picks up the needle and holds it out towards me. "One full injection into his upper arm. Your friend will steadily improve until a full recovery, which normally takes twenty-four hours."

"Thank you." I hurry towards her and take the antidote. I carefully stow it in my backpack.

"Don't thank me," Moira replies, her gaze still glued to the passing images while she waits for the match to appear. "This is only a temporary fix. Soon, any humans who want to survive are going to need more than an antidote-" Moira is cut off as the floor beneath us begins to quake. I grab onto a nearby console, which has a bunch of buttons that I hope I'm not accidently pressing.

"What's that?" I shout.

Ignoring me, Moira flies away, leaving the air to ripple behind her.

The shaking subsides and, alone in the ship, I watch my classmates' IDs flash by as the words "Not Compatible" blink in and out of view.

All I can hear is Moira's creepy voice in my head. "Soon, any humans who want to survive are going to need more than an antidote..."

She's crazy, and not in a Lenora Everett way. This lady is crazy like she might try to blow up her own planet and then destroy _us_. I can't let that happen.

And in the process of not letting that happen, I'm probably going to get myself killed.

With trembling hands, I unzip the side pocket of my backpack and pull out the laser-flashlight.

I return the backpack to my shoulders and look up at the 3-D images Moira was watching. What I see stops me dead in my tracks.

The image of Mia's boyfriend, Randall Hawke, smiles back at me - it's his student ID picture. Beside this image is the word, "Compatible."

Seriously? Randall Hawke is the only person in the flipping universe who can unlock a super-secret rocket/missile? What the heck is happening?

The room fills with ripples and I gasp. I don't have much time!

I run to the console, pull the hard drive out and aim the flashlight at it.

I smash my index finger into the flashlight's button twice and the laser's heat warms my palm as white light shoots from the flashlight to burn a hole clear through the hard drive _and_ through Moira's console.

The ripples around me increase and I nervously back away from the damage I've caused. I turn around, spot a door, and make a run for it.

Wait, where's the door handle? Or is it automatic? The door slides up as I approach. Relieved, I run through.

I pause, every part of my body trembling as I sweep the hallway before me. This part of Moira's ship is completely different from the other two rooms I've seen. Here, everything's a silvery, metallic color and the hallway splits into two routes. Choosing the left, I run as fast as I can and scan the gray walls for a door or exit.

I need to get out of here before this lunatic alien kills me. Just ahead, a door comes into view. I make a run for it and, out of nowhere, heavy pressure slams into my face and shoulder.

I scream and stumble backwards.

"Sorry. Are you okay?" Ms. Karin's voice cuts into the silence.

"Thank God," I whisper, so relieved I could cry. "You've got to be the only person in the world who actually checks their voicemail."

"Did Moira hurt you?" Ms. Karin asks.

Seeing as she's got the Blackbird on, I can't see her. So, I'm not sure where to look as I say, "Not yet. Can we get out of here before she does?"

"Yes, we can." She grabs my hand. "Hold on."

I do as told and before I know it, we're crashing through a silvery door and flying into the gray of a foggy Louisiana morning. A bright light shoots past us, sending ripples our way. It turns around and heads straight for us.

Oh God, I think I know what that is - and it's not just a light.

"Is that her?" I frantically shout. "Is that Moira?"

"A. You're shouting in my ear," Ms. Karin yells. "And B. _Obviously, yes, that is Moira_!"

The flaming light, sending ripples every which way, speeds towards us. But Ms. Karin doesn't slow down or remove us from Moira's trajectory. It's like we're playing chicken - in the sky.

I look down and instantly become nauseous. The landscape below, highways, cars, and buildings look like ants.

"I don't want to die!" I shout, through chattering teeth.

Ms. Karin doesn't respond, she just keeps flying towards Moira. And I could be wrong, but I think she's actually _increasing_ speed _._ As the light zooms towards us, Moira's eyes become discernable. They're as red as her hair and they're boring into mine. Moira lifts her palm and a red and white curl of fire unfurls in its center. I scream.

Ms. Karin abruptly drops us and we fly down towards the street. Wait, no... we're moving so fast I can't even see where we are. Everything's a blur. But I think I see a wall, and then a door.

We stop.

All at once I'm on my feet, wobbling, about to fall. And Ms. Karin isn't beside me.

I glance around and frown, taking in the large view screen to my left, the row of chairs in front of it, one chair positioned ahead of the others, in front of some sort of cockpit area.

I'm in another space ship?

"Ms. Karin?" I shout, looking around.

"Drew, this is my ship, _Iris_ ," Ms. Karin says, and I look around for her, but of course I don't see her. "Get to a seat and strap yourself in."

#

"Your ship?" I repeat, looking around the small, circular vessel.

"Iris!" Ms. Karin shouts. "Go to Swamp Rose General Hospital, full speed."

"Acknowledged," announces a female computerized voice.

I look around. "Its like your own personal _Millennium Falcon_ ," the words have barely left my lips when the ship takes off and the image on the view screen ahead becomes a blur.

My feet slide out from under me and I fall forward. I'm instantly pinned to the ground, sliding headfirst towards the back of the ship.

Six months ago, if you'd told me I'd find myself in my theater teacher's spaceship, pinned to the floor looking like a lunatic trying to do the worm, I'd have called you a crackhead.

Say that now, and I'd call you an insightful genius.

"A little help, Ms. Karin?" I yell, my arms flailing at my sides.

I'm sliding head-first towards some kind of storage compartments and Ms. Karin doesn't seem to be around anymore. She must have left the ship.

Oh God, I'm going to split my head open. I should've called my mother this morning. I knew there was a good chance I'd die. Why didn't I call her?

Automatically closing my eyes as I veer, headfirst, towards the sharp edge of the bottom of the storage compartment, I cringe and then realize the ship has stilled.

I open my eyes.

"This is your destination," Iris announces.

My skull isn't split.

Reaching up, I pat the top of my head and see that I'm literally less than five centimeters away from the sharp underside of the door to the compartment.

"I hate you, Iris." I mumble as I get to my feet. "You're no _Millennium Falcon_."

"I don't understand what you mean," the computerized voice replies. "Please repeat your instructions."

"Whatever," I mutter, my right shoulder throbbing in pain.

I turn around and look at the ship's view screen. Fat gray clouds, beginning to be pushed away by the sun, peer back at me.

"Iris? Where are we?" I ask.

"The roof of Swamp Rose General Hospital," she replies.

I spin around, looking for an exit and see something that looks like it could be a door, but I have no idea how to open it. Why can't there ever just be a simple door handle?

"Iris, open the door," I order.

"Acknowledged," Iris replies and the door slides up, emitting something like the sound of a flat can of sprite being opened.

As I peer into the doorway, a humid breeze kisses my skin and ambulances shriek, nearly drowning out the melody of nearby birdsong.

I glance around the gravel rooftop and there's a stairwell just ahead. Jumping out of the ship, which hovers a foot or so above the rooftop, I secure my backpack on my shoulders and once again there's that sound of a flat can of sprite being opened.

I turn around and Iris is nowhere to be seen. All I see is the hospital's parking lot below and the grassy field behind it. Iris must be invisible. Okay... right.

Shrugging this off, I hurry towards the stairwell, push open its door, and crash into the musty-smelling entrance. A sign tells me that I'm on the fourth floor. ICU is on the second. I hurry down the stairs, my footsteps echoing loudly.

Beads of sweat trickle down my forehead and without bothering to wipe them away, I finally approach the entrance to the second floor. I push it open and the hospital's bright lights assault my eyes.

This floor is unusually busy. Two women in scrubs, one pushing a cart, the other holding a clipboard pass me, a male doctor gestures profusely as he talks to someone who watches him closely, nodding at his every word.

I step into the hall. Up ahead, a sign that says, "ICU" has a large, black arrow pointing left. I hurry towards the sign and run down the corridor that leads to the ICU.

Now, my surroundings are familiar. A singular row of chairs line each side of the hallway and just ahead, at the end of the corridor, is the nurse's desk where you have to ask for permission to enter the ICU department.

Crap! I forgot about the _strictly enforced_ visiting hours. Morning visiting hours are over.

I'm out of breath as the eyes of the five or six people in the waiting area look up, watching me head to the nurse's desk. Self-conscious, I wipe my damp forehead with the back of my hand.

Ben might be grossed out when he sees me... but that's better than him not seeing me at all because he's dead. The thought of "dead" pushes my feet forward and I'm starting to run again.

The nurse looks up, her eyes widening as she assesses my face and then my clothing. She frowns. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, may I just briefly see one of the patients? Benjamin Morris?" I say, smiling and trying not to look horribly insane. "I know visiting hours aren't-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupts me with a shake of her head. "Visiting hours ended twenty minutes ago. You're welcome to come back during our evening hours."

He could be dead by then.

I take a step forward and lean against the counter, not caring whether or not this god-awful-shade-of-lipstick-wearing nurse thinks I'm insane. Speaking slowly, I look her in the eyes, and say, " _Please_. I only need to see him for a seco-"

"Drew!" a male voice calls from the other end of the corridor.

I spin around and a lanky guy with red hair stands at the end of the hallway - Tim from Serenity Bayous?

He beckons me. Confused, I leave the nurse's desk and head his way.

"What are you doing here?"

He takes my hand and pulls me into the hallway. "I saw that you got your friend out and brought him here," he says, guiding me down the hallway. "I figured you two would need some help."

I retract my hand.

He's wearing a thick jacket over his clothes and if there's anything I learned from my reoccurring role of "Teen Hooker #1" on _NCIS_ , it's that when a guy is wearing a thick jacket in hot weather, it's always, always, _always_ because he's hiding a gun with which he will kill you.

Tim frowns. "I'm trying to help you."

I search his for honesty...and there it is. _I think._

I take a deep breath and nod. "Okay, well let's walk and talk."

With this, I turn away from him and start down the hallway.

"I came to give you this," he says, opening his jacket, which makes me freeze.

Is he going to shoot me now?

"Keep walking," he whispers.

Just in case he's got a gun under there, I do as told, but my eyes don't stray from whatever it is he's reaching for. Tim pulls out a folded-up white lab coat along with a stethoscope, and hands them to me.

Confused, I take them. I clutch them to my chest and look at him for an explanation. "What's this for?"

He points to something in the distance. I follow his finger and all I see are a couple of chart-holding doctors coming around a corner.

"Remember what we did at Serenity Bayous?" he asks. "We're doing it again, except this time, I'm keeping my clothes on and you'll be on your own. Hurry, put on the jacket, hold the stethoscope, and we're turning right at that corner where those doctors just came from."

I slip off my backpack and feel Tim take it. I glance up at him, wondering if he's going to run off with Mr. Brown's underwear and, more importantly, with the antidote that will save Ben.

But Tim is looking around, cautiously scanning the corridor as he holds my backpack and whispers, "Hurry up."

I put on the lab coat and slide the stethoscope around my neck. "My backpack."

He hands it to me and I slip the straps on over my shoulders.

"Take this hallway until it ends. You're going to need the very last door on your left. It's the doctors' back entrance into the ICU," Tim whispers. "In the right pocket of the coat is the antidote your friend needs."

"Wait, _what?_ " I exclaim, turning to him in shock. __ "I already have the antidote. And how did you-"

"You already have it?" Tim's eyes widen. "How do you _already have it_?"

A few doctors glance at us as they pass, so I lower my voice to a whisper. "You told me to use my riches and power to convince extraordinary people to save Ben. Remember? So that's what I did. What did you expect me to do? Let him die?"

Tim's eyes widen. "Wait, you're saying you talked to one of them? Like, you _met with_ a Novu?"

"Well, yeah!" I give him a look. "Isn't that what _you_ said I should do? I found Moira and she gave me the antidote-"

"You found _Moira_?" Ben goes pale. "Are you insane? She could've killed you!"

"At the time I didn't know that," I hiss. "All I knew was that she looked like one of the 'extraordinary people' you told me to find!"

"Listen to me," Tim says, lowering his voice. "Moira's basically the Novu version of Hitler and she wouldn't help you without requesting something in return. What'd she ask you to do?"

I shift on my feet.

"She's got some crazy plan to send a rocket, which I think is actually a missile, to her home planet. But she can't activate it without the right person's fingerprint. So I got her the fingerprint she'd need and in return, and she gave me Ben's antidote," I explain, watching Tim's face fall. "But before she could even see the fingerprint, I destroyed it and ran away with the antidote. So now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go prevent my friend's immediate death."

"Drew Everett." Tim grins, his eyebrows going up. "You went to war with the twenty-first century's worst serial killer. That takes balls."

"Obviously it doesn't." I frown. "I don't have balls. I have boobs and ovaries. In any case, I'm pretty sure genitals have nothing to do with it. But... whatever. I'm going to go save my friend now." I start towards the ICU and then pause, turning back to Tim. "Oh, and thank you for your help."

Still grinning, he shakes his head and backs away. "Looks like you didn't even need it."

"Even so, thanks," I say, watching him stick his hands in his pockets as he continues to back away.

He just smiles and, nodding his goodbye, turns around.

I watch him walk away. That was so random. I would've never guessed he'd come back to lend me a hand. Once again... people can surprise you - I guess that's why you shouldn't judge.

Turning away from Tim, I hurry down the hallway and pass a couple of white coats who acknowledge me with fellow "doctorly" nods.

I take a deep breath and hurry towards ICU. It's time to get my Han Solo out of carbonite...

#

The injection is in my hand and I know I've been fighting off aliens and running around to get to this moment, but ... I didn't expect to be _so_ scared right now.

My hands tremble as I push open Ben's door.

Ms. Morris stands near the head of his bed, leaning over, crying.

A few feet behind her, Ben's doctor and a nurse are whispering.

My hands are still shaking.

I have to do this quickly, before they call security and I get detained or sent to the psych ward or whatever it is that happens when you get caught impersonating a doctor and "assaulting" a patient.

Clutching the needle, I walk into the room, shut the door behind me, and make my way to Ben's left side.

Fear washes over me. He looks even grayer than he did the last time I saw him. I can save him, but it still hurts to see him like this.

In my peripheral, I see the doctor and nurse turn to me, but Ms. Morris has her head in her hands, unseeing as she cries. I push up the sleeve of Ben's gown, retrieve the needle, and thrust it into his upper arm.

"Hey!" the nurse shouts.

I use my other hand to retrieve the Band-Aid Tim thoughtfully left in the pocket of the lab coat, and glance up as the nurse heads towards me. The woman's eyes are wide and her arms are outstretched as if she's planning on choking me.

I return my attention to Ben, drain the antidote into his arm as quickly as I can, and release the needle. With this, I press the Band-Aid over the injection site.

The needle is forcibly removed from my hand and the nurse grabs both of my arms. I grin. She's too late. I did it. I injected him... now it just has to work.

Just over the nurse's shoulder, Ben's doctor holds the needle, scowling down at it.

"Drew!" Ms. Morris shrieks. "What are you doing?"

"It's an antidote that'll fight Ben's virus," I explain. "In twenty-four hours, he'll be completely back to normal."

The nurse pulls both of my hands behind my back like I'm some kind of criminal and she's a cop. While my sore shoulder throbs enough to make me scream, I don't because just below me, Ben takes a deep breath.

_Please, please let that be a good sign, please..._ I gulp. What if Moira tricked me? What if it's not really an antidote? What if that's _his last breath_? I should have used the antidote Tim gave me ...

I watch Ben carefully. His chest rises and falls and his eyelids flutter as my vision grows blurry with tears.

"Come on, Ben," I whisper. "Please wake up."

The doctor, standing where Ms. Morris had been, pushes the nurse's station button and says, "We need security in Room 144."

Ben's eyes open.

"Dr. Richard!" The nurse exclaims, releasing me in her excitement. "Are you seeing this? Look at his vitals."

Ben blinks, looks around, and his eyes settle on mine.

"Hey," he whispers. His lips are incredibly dry and never in my life have I so desperately wanted to kiss a pair of chapped lips. His gaze moves down to the lab coat I wear, and narrowing his eyes, says, "Why are you dressed like a doctor?"

"Who are you?" the nurse suddenly asks me.

I glance at her and then meet Ben's eyes. Without bothering to wipe my tears, I grin and semi-quote one of my favorite Star Wars lines, "Someone who loves him."

Ben returns my smile and whispers, "You are officially... a geek."

#

I love this.

Breathing in the fresh Louisiana air...well, the _relatively_ _fresh_ Louisiana air, I watch a mockingbird swoop down into South Louisiana High's front lawn.

Ben gives my hand a squeeze and, turning to him, I can't restrain the goofy grin that takes over my lips.

I love that I don't have to create excuses to be near him. Now, I can hold his hand whenever I want. I can lean over and kiss him anytime I feel like it - he's all mine! Muwhahaha! Yes, that was slightly manic laughter. I know... being in love has made me weird.

Ben takes a deep breath and examines the school's front entrance.

My smile fades. He looks nervous.

He turns to me and arches an eyebrow. "What?"

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" I ask. "You could've stayed home one more day."

"Nah, I'm ready." He pauses and leans forward to kiss me. I melt into the embarrassingly gooey-version of Drew, the version who exists only when Ben's lips cover hers. As he leans away from me, grinning like he knows what effect his kisses have, he says, " _Now_ I'm ready."

My cheeks flush. Flustered, I nod toward the school's front steps. "We should get moving - don't want to be late your first day back."

He moves closer to me and I bite down on my bottom lip before saying, "So, I had Ms. Mona send my sister a 'Welcome to Rehab' gift. I just hope she'll like the chardonnay."

Ben arches an eyebrow.

"JK." I grin. "We sent flowers."

He smiles. "That's a little better than chardonnay. And I'm sorry I didn't get to meet Clara before she left."

"That's okay." I squeeze his hand as a ton of birds chirp in the trees over our heads. "You needed time to recover and honestly, you probably need even _more_ time."

"I'm better." He looks into my eyes. "I promise."

"I'm just glad you're here now."

And I really mean that. If anything had happened to him, I honestly don't know what I would've done. I guess I would've been strong, but I'm glad it didn't come to that...

"Me too. So, how'd your sister react to the intervention?" Ben asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"She was great." I nod, recalling how Clara had surprised me by easily agreeing to join our mother in Sweden. "I think it helped that she already knew she had a problem."

"Good. I hope she gets clean. If she's anything like you, she's strong enough to do it." With this, Ben leans over, brushing his lips against my cheek and I smile as he lingers near my ear and whispers, "I like you."

I turn to face him and bring my lips to his in a gentle kiss. "I know."

He laughs and swings my left hand in his as we start up the school's front steps. "Closet nerd."

"Scruffy-looking nerf-herder," I retort, knowing that'll earn me a smile.

I'm right.

"Drew!" Behind me, Mia's voice is followed by the click-clack of her heels against the pavement.

"Great." Ben groans.

I pat his arm and whisper, "Once you get to know them, they're not completely terrible."

Mia, arms out at her side, as if she's walking a tightrope, teeters up the stairs and Kyle, a little ways behind her, walks much more smoothly in her heels as she meets my eyes and grins. "Drew!"

"Hey." I smile. It's actually kind of nice to see them.

Before I know it, Mia's grabbing my arm, pulling me away from my boyfriend, and waving at Ben with her free hand. "We're just going to steal Drew for a sec-"

I glance at Ben and he's looking back at me, eyes despondent and mouth open, though no words are coming out. Not cool.

"I'll be back, I promise," I say, and then Kyle is literally _in_ my face, blocking my view of Ben.

"Drew!" she whispers. "Why'd you miss school yesterday? You should've been here to see the look on Heath's face. It was classic!"

Mia pulls open the door for the three of us and we cram in through the doorway.

The halls are a-buzz with my classmates running around, some laughing and joking, others looking dejected... I look around and, despite the school's nasty smell and the fact that Mia and Kyle are both talking in my ear at the same time, an overwhelming sense of being in the right place settles down on me.

I _really_ like it here.

"...so, don't worry, you won't get suspended or anything. No one knows it was you," Mia's says.

"Good." I nod.

"When did you put it in Heath's locker? On Sunday night, or early Monday morning?" Kyle asks.

"Early Monday morning," I say, without adding that it was me and Clara's last great pre-rehab adventure.

After chasing aliens, being chased _by_ aliens, impersonating a doctor, and then staging Clara's intervention with Mona, I was kind of worn out. But, Clara had asked how things went with the cheerleader-thing and she wanted in on the fun, so... it had to be done.

"Drew." Elizabeth's voice catches my attention and I spot her, waving as she passes. "That was pretty sick. Heath deserved it."

"Thanks." I grin.

"The shaving cream was a nice touch too." Kyle chuckles.

Clara's idea.

"Hey," Mia says, lowering her voice. "I don't have practice this afternoon and I was thinking of talking to the principal about... you know... the thing we talked about."

What went down between Mia and Mr. Brown comes to mind and I nod slowly, my gaze going to Kyle.

She makes a face. "I wish I could be there for you, but my parents are holding me hostage. My mom's picking me up after school and she's insisting on this huge family dinner that I have to help with. Sorry."

"Oh." Mia's face falls, and the loneliness that I've felt for most of my life appears in her eyes.

"I'll go with you, Mia," I quickly say. "I said I'd have your back and I will."

Mia relaxes, somewhat. "Okay. I just... I hope I'm doing the right thing. I mean, after this Principal Williams is going to know what _I_ did."

"You _are_ doing the right thing," I say, looking at Mia. "And I'll be right there with you."

"Thank you," she says, glancing down.

"Not to completely change the subject, but, look at her," Kyle whispers, nodding towards a girl whose long hair is piled high on her head in some kind of mutated donut... thing. " _What_ is that?"

"Whatever it is, it's bad," I whisper and my eyes go to the hall clock just above donut-girl's head. We only have three minutes until class starts and I really want to kiss Ben goodbye. I step out of the cheerleader pack and wave to Mia and Kyle. "I want to catch Ben before his first class so, I'll see you guys later."

"Lucky." Kyle narrows her eyes at me and smiles.

"Yeah, go get some, Drew." Mia makes kissing noises before turning to Kyle to gossip about poor donut-girl's hair.

Ben's homeroom is all the way on the third floor and I have less than three minutes to get my kiss.

I hurry up the stairs and upon reaching the second floor, I pause.

Ms. Karin's class is _right_ _here_. I could ask her if I can use the Blackbird just this once... she might say no, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

Weaving in and out of passing students, a few of whom tell me hello, I pause in Ms. Karin's doorway.

Her classroom is empty, but her purse sits on her desk.

Hm...

I glance at the clock... two minutes left. Yeah, I'll just use it really fast and then put it right back.

Going to her desk, I slip off my book bag and set it down. I peek inside of Ms. Karin's purse and quickly find what I'm looking for.

"Sorry, Ms. Karin. I'll bring it back," I whisper to no one as I press the Blackbird's activation button.

It always startles me how hot the device gets when it powers up, but I make myself hold on as the Blackbird's extensions wrap themselves around my wrists and ankles. Before I know it, my feet are hovering above the ground.

"Ms. Karin?" a voice calls, scaring me out of my mind.

Forgetting that I'm invisible, I flail my arms like a moron whilst also trying to duck and suddenly find myself shooting downward, crashing through the school's second floor, and then the first. Everything around me grows dark and with my heart thundering in my chest, I finally pull myself together and manage to stop falling.

Geez, I wonder how far I could've fallen doing that? Could I have fallen to the center of the freaking earth?

As I get my bearings, I proceed to gag. South Louisiana High's dimly lit basement - a place that I didn't even know existed - is halfway flooded, full of mice, and reeking. Like _seriously_ reeking. It's as if the source of the acidic smell permeating our entire school is _right here_.

Why does our school even have a basement? No buildings in Louisiana have basements.

My stomach turning, I try not to puke as I hover over the murky water. This place must have been untouched for years... _oh my God_.

I gasp as my thoughts stop, my feet stop, and even my heart nearly stops.

Seriously?

In front of me is the nose of a large, white rocket.

Okay, maybe it's not actually a rocket. Maybe it just _looks like_ a rocket.

I float towards it and move alongside the object's cone-shaped nose, studying it... yeah, it's definitely some kind of rocket.

A silver line is painted along its side, the silver line curves around to encircle a console that looks just like the one in Moira's blueprints.

Holy crap, this _is_ _it_.

I stare into the Fingerprint Activation Console, wondering how long it's going to take Moira to figure out that _this_ is where the rocket has been stored.

My phone vibrates.

Carefully pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see that I have a text from Clara.

My flight just landed, headed to rehab now. Wish me luck!

Sighing, I glance at the rocket-missile thing in front of me and Moira's warning comes to mind. " _Soon, any humans who want to survive are going to need more than an antidote_."

What, exactly, does she plan on doing to us? And how's that going to affect my mother, Clara, Ben, and everyone else I care about?

I slowly back away from the rocket. Saving Ben was just the tip of the iceberg. I have a feeling it won't be long until we'll have to figure out how to save the entire planet.

My phone vibrates. I glance down and see that it's a text from Ben.

Ben: miss you already. Lunch together?

Coming out of my short-lived fog, I reply:

Drew: Can you meet me now? I need you.

His response is immediate:

Ben: Let's meet at the water fountain, third floor.

I glance at the rocket, wondering if anyone else knows this thing is down here.

I take a deep breath, which doesn't at all relieve the tension in my stomach. With this, I raise my arms and fly, crashing through the teacher's lounge and two classrooms, all the way up to the third floor.

I turn right and fly to the water fountain. Ben's not here yet.

Deactivating the Blackbird, I slide the device into my pocket and smooth down my blouse.

Behind me, a classroom door shuts.

I spin around and see Ben.

He waves and I plaster on a smile, waving in return.

Ben slips his hands into his pockets and holds my gaze as he walks towards me. I can tell from the way he's looking at me that he's wondering if I'm okay.

The weird thing is, I _am_.

Maybe I'm okay because I know I don't have to deal with any of this on my own. I have Ms. Karin for the weird stuff, Megs and Elizabeth for the everyday stuff, Clara for the family stuff, and I even have Mia and Kyle for first-world drama... but, for _everything_ , I have Ben.

"You all right?" he asks, slipping his hands out of his pockets and wrapping them around my waist.

"Yeah." I look into his eyes, noticing the flecks of green that only appear in certain lighting. "I'm okay."

"You sure?" he asks, and then smiles. "You said you needed me. You _never_ say that."

I chuckle. "That's why I'm okay. Even though I just found out that the missile Moira's been looking for is hanging out in the school basement, I also know that no matter what happens, I'm not on my own. I need you, and I have you."

Ben eyebrows go up and he blinks rapidly, digesting what I've said. He takes a deep breath, pulls me closer and kisses me. I close my eyes, melting under his touch.

When we pull away from each other, he whispers, "Yeah, you're pretty much stuck with me."

"Good." I open my eyes and grin as I look up at him.

"So," Ben says, taking my hands. "About that missile. Do you think we should talk to Ms. Karin..."

I must confess that, at the moment, I'm not listening to a word my boyfriend is saying. I'm looking at him and thinking that as chaotic and confusing as life can be, there are moments when you're with the right person, a friend, a sister, or even a gorgeous _Star Wars_ fanatic... and you're exactly where you should be. You're in the eye of the storm, and for that moment, you're safe.

I give Ben's hand a squeeze, smile at him and decide to tune in, because we have a lot of work ahead of us - the key word being "us."
Drew Everett has learned a lot about Swamp Rose's secrets. But she's not the only newbie to South Louisiana High who has a run-in with Unseen and I.T.I.S.

Gina Russo is pulled into Unseen's web of mystery when she finds herself being saved by the invisible superhero. After her rescue, Gina is determined to unmask her hero. But in the process of unmasking her hero's identity, Gina learns the full truth about Unseen's past and how it's linked to the future of the entire planet.

Gina's story, "Almost Brave" is book #4 within The South Louisiana High Series!

The South Louisiana High Series

**Identity - The Origin** **Story**

Karen, Nathaniel, & Tessa's Story

**Almost Friends - Book One**

Mia, Kyle, & Elizabeth's Story

**Almost Twins - Book Two**

Andy, Gia, & Via's Story

**Almost Famous - Book Three**

Drew's Story

**Almost Brave - Book Four**

Gina's Story

**Almost Human - Book Five**

For more information about the South Louisiana High book series, visit

www.southlouisianahighschool.weebly.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2018 by Come Play Studios

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Come Play Studios.

www.comeplaystudios.co

Cover by Rebecca Berto

Interior Design and Formatting:

www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

First Edition
