AN: um...enjoy? lol, no seriously read on.

Brendon’s warning honk snapped me into action. With a withering glare out the window, I stuffed my objects into the small plaid knapsack rested on my bed. My pencilcase created a cancerous looking lump on the side as I pushed it in last minute, and clipped the pack shut.

I sucked in a sharp gust of air, held, and then released it slowly. Another honk. “Coming!” I yelled out uselessly. He was waiting in the driveway, I was sitting up in my room. Distance? Um…yeah. “Yeah, hold on a sec…” I whispered to myself; slipping on my vans, and then tore out of the room.

Brendon was glaring at me impatiently as I slid in beside him—reveling in the musky scent of his Toyota. The door squeaked as I shut it, and fanned out my hair from inside my hoodie. I smiled at him tightly. He glared down at me. “Nice timing you’ve got there Wen…” I made a clucking noise with my tongue, nodding at him absently.

“Uhh…yeah…we were slow this morning.” I explained.

“I’m sure.”

If Brendon saw anything unusual about me, he didn’t comment. But then again, I couldn’t really tell anything about him. Whether it was do to my nervousness, or that he was just unusually impassive—I wasn’t exactly sure.

It was probably more of the second one though, because I’m not sure how he didn’t notice my fidgeting. Any more, and I’m sure I’d have taken out the seatbelt all together. I didn’t want to be there—trapped in his familiar car...The music on, his black hair blowing casually. Like every day, and too normal for what the situation called for.

Like everything was normal. Which, it was so not. My fingers worried the edge of my skirt to the point that I was sure that the whole thing would just unravel. But I kept picking at it. It wasn’t until a warm weight settled over my moving hand that I realized Brendon was attempting to stop the destruction of one of my favourite skirts. He was staring leisurely out at the road, but his mouth was set in a disapproving line.

“Sorry.” I whispered, not really sure why I was apologizing. Maybe for moving around so much, or maybe for being a nervous wreck. Probably both. He didn’t seem to think that I needed to say anything though—judging by his deepened frown.

“Don’t be.” He shrugged, swerving into the school parking lot. “Just thought you might not want to come to school naked is all.” A stiff laugh bubbled out, and I then fixated my gaze onto my backpack. I wasn’t even sure I had all of the right things—probably didn’t. Judging by the way I just threw things into it this morning. Silently, I hoped that I had all of my homework.

My door opened abruptly, making me start, but my shoulders gradually relaxed as I realized it was just Brendon. I hadn’t even heard the car stop, much less him getting out. Yeah, I was observant. He was staring at me with an unreadable expression, and then held his arm out to me. I was a bit put out by that; brushing him off and getting out myself. He was smart enough to grab my backpack from my seat though, and handed it off to me wordlessly. I flushed.

“Thanks.”

“S’ no problem.” He said nonchalantly, and then started walking towards the main building. The walk was routine—we took it everyday—so at least the worry of running into any signs was gone. I just followed behind him absently, stopping when he did, and turning at the same time.

The throng of students getting off from the busses filled most of the campus, and I found myself jealous. A group off to my right was talking amongst themselves, occasionally laughing. They were so normal. I envied how they could just get out their trig books and check over answers with leisurely smiles, and laughs. I could barely get in a car without falling apart. I was surprised I hadn’t broken down yet—which didn’t mean much. I was expecting a meltdown any second. It felt like it.

Happy things, school, academics. Um...that hot guy over there... I rolled these things over and over in my mind. It took the bight off not to think, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing I could just shut my mind off altogether. I wish I could; I tried.

Brendon’s bag made a slapping noise as he tossed it onto the table, and he was met with greetings. Time to act normal. I tried a weak grin at Maeve, and returned every greeting I got from our group. Brendon pulled me down next to him and Adam, telling him something about what they’d done over the weekend. I could only imagine what they’d think if I told them about my weekend.

Probably think I was crazy. It was tempting though—the idea of letting them in on it. Just so I wasn’t the only one. My gaze settled on Maeve, and I contemplated. She was there, and had met him. She’d be the obvious choice.

But then she started laughing at something Jasper had said, and it was all washed away. If she knew about the twisted things happening she’d never laugh like that again. Hell, I knew I couldn’t. “Hey, you sick or something?” My head snapped up, and it took me a moment to realize that Jasper was speaking to me.

It was quiet, and I frowned. “No, just tired.” I lied effortlessly, and was thankful when he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever. You kids and your problems these days.” I tried to crack a weak grin at him, but was sure that it came out more of a grimace. From beside me, Brendon was frowning lightly to himself, and when I shot him a questioning look, just shrugged his shoulders.

“Got a test next period.” He explained, and then brought his headphones up—turning the volume. I nodded, not really believing him, but was willing to grant the same favour he had to me. Speak no evil, hear no evil. And all that.

“Hey we’re going ice skating Wednesday night if you want to come?” Maeve suggested—staring at me hopefully. The knee jerk reaction was to say no, but then after some thought, I realized that getting out of the house might actually be good for someone like me. You know, help with the whole trying not to think thing.

So, after a moment of staring at her, I answered. “Yeah, sure.” As soon as it left my mouth, I knew that I didn’t want to do it, but then logic overrode the emotional bit. It’s good for you, I silently insisted.

“Meh, I’ll go.” Brendon said quietly, and Maeve squealed happily.

“Yeah, and we’ll get Em to come too. Save her from her grandparents and all that shizz.” She waved her hand casually; going on about eating arrangements after. Good for you, I reminded myself.

There was a collective groan that spread across the field as the bell rang, and one by one the groups stood and headed for the main entrance. I slung my backpack over my shoulder in one easy swoop—having every intention of ditching for the bathrooms, and missing homeroom.

Maeve shot me a questioning look as I started to head in the opposite direction of her. “I have to piss.” I mouthed; turning before I’d even heard her reply. I looked over my shoulder once, feeling completely paranoid, and sagged with relief when I saw she wasn’t there. God, I was such a crap friend.

There weren’t a lot of people in the bathrooms—save the usual crowd. You know, the girls that are glued to the mirrors, and then those select few that actually have to pee. Thankfully, there weren’t too many of those.

I grabbed an empty stall—dragging the backpack in and all—before bringing out my notebook and a pencil. The paper seemed to glare at me blankly, and I let out a frustrated sigh. Part of me wanted to cry, and the other half wanted to chuck the damn thing at a wall. I wasn’t that far away from doing both.

But then I decided not to, seeing as it was my only notebook, and I’d probably regret it later. So I opted to draw instead.

The head came out rough, but after a few erase marks, it started to take shape. Next I moved absently to the body—until I didn’t even notice that I was still drawing. My hand was just moving on impulse.

I blinked, staring at the paper, and felt a dull pinch between my eyes. Not. Going. To. Cry. It’d ruin your face, and make your eyes pink and puffy; I debated.

My cat really wasn’t that good—you could still tell what it was; I wasn’t that bad—but in some way, it was still reminiscent of Spoon. It was enough to make my eyes water at least. I ripped the page out, and tore it swiftly down the middle. I made sure to give it some good stomps before kicking under the next stall. Problem solved.

The bathroom was completely empty when I finally stepped out, but I comforted myself with the notion that at least the bell hadn’t even rung yet. True to my thought, it sounded a moment later, and I jumped with the shrill noise. It seemed magnified in the small bathroom.

Voices soon filled the halls from outside, and I quickly slipped into the mass of students—blending in. I even managed to make it to first period without incident. Which was good, because getting a detention might have driven me over the edge.

I grabbed an empty desk, and rested my head down warily. A yawn bubbled up, and my eyes dropped with exhaustion. Unsurprisingly, I hadn’t gotten that much sleep last night. Not even the most expensive foundation could completely hide my rings. I blocked out the voices of other students, closing my eyes, and barely took into account when the seat next to me was pulled out. .

The sound of notebooks being opened tipped me off though, and I decided it was probably time to start paying ‘attention’. My pencil made annoying squeaking noises as I copied the notes, and I was tempted to just stop altogether. “Here.” My head snapped up to the pencil that was being offered to me. I hadn’t even paid attention to who was sitting next to me, and took it while trying to shadow my face with my hair. No need for someone else to know how much of a wreck I was. Especially someone who sounded as attractive as he did.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, and stashed mine in my pocket. He chuckled softly from next to me; sounding really close. I allowed myself one peek, and saw that his elbow as almost brushing mine.

“No problem. I have loads.” I frowned down at the table.

“Yeah.” Then shook my head, and continued with the notes.

Class went by without much notice—or notice from me really. More then half the time I drew pictures of cats on the inside flap of my notebook. I found that repeating the thought was numbing the fear and shock. Every drawing made it better. Or I was relying on this method, anyways, regardless of if it actually worked. Maybe if I believed it enough, it would.

“Wow. An artist. I’m just gonna throw this out there and guess…you um…like cats.” A surge of annoyance flooded my gut, but then I reminded myself that he didn’t even know, and so I couldn’t get mad.

“Yeah. I like cats.” I said evenly, and then shut my notebook. Maybe he’d pick up on my tone, and get the idea.

“Interesting.” He deadpanned. No such luck. “…Is it your cat?” My expression froze, and I flipped my hair so that it was hanging in a thicker curtain to hide my flush.

“Why do you think that?” I hoped that my tone didn’t betray any of my emotions. Probably did, but regardless, I tried to keep it even.

“Because, you keep drawing the same thing over and over.” He paused for a minute. “It’s weird, that’s all.” For some reason this seemed to make me irrationally angry. I swiveled around in my seat to face him, seeing him for the first time.

His attractiveness intimidated me for a moment, but then I decided that I wasn’t about to be made fun of by some stranger who didn’t even know what was happening.

“Shut up. You don’t even know.” It didn’t occur to me that I might sound possibly insane, but I found that I didn’t care. He flicked his blond hair out of his odd sea foam eyes, and gave me a surprised look.

“Geez, sorry. Did it like…die or something?” If you could call it that. I snorted bitterly.

“Whatever.” I snarled, stacking my stuff into a messy pile, and headed to the door. I could feel him staring wordlessly after me—and part of me, the reasonable part, knew that I’d overreacted a little—but I couldn’t force myself to go back and apologize.

“May I go to the bathroom?” It was close enough to the end of class that Mrs. Gray didn’t say anything about all of my stuff, but instead just nodded.

“Don’t be late for next period.” I forced a sweet smile onto my face to appease her; making sure not to let the door bang as I crept out.

--

Double maths on a good day is bad—double maths on a crap day is like sticking a syringe in your eye. Which, might have been less painful. The minute-hand of the clock seemed to be permanently glued to the 10.

And for all the progress I’d made in the class during the period, I might as well have not been in there at all. From next to me Katie Helmes turned—holding a sheet up to my face. “Hey, do you get this?”

I gave her a short shake of my head. “No.” And then was grateful when she dropped it.

When the bell finally did ring, I made sure not to be the last one out—trying to blend in as much as possible. There was a high possibility that the teacher wanted to go over my crapass grades. Um, really not in the mood for that. Thanks, though

Thankfully, she let me pass by without notice, and I was able to successfully use my classmates as camouflage until the health room neared. My stomach rumbled, but I pushed the gnawing feeling away. I wasn’t hungry. Really. I wasn’t sure how anyone could be hungry after…after that. But biologically, I seemed to have other ideas.

Lunch was next period, though. I tried to use this to appease my stomach. Shut up stomach. Stop it.
Coach Richardson gave me a curt nod in greeting as I filed in with two other students on either side of me. I tried to give a smile, but probably didn’t succeed. I was sure it turned out more of a grimace.

As I sat down, I saw that the assignment was already written on the board, and tried to indiscreetly pull out my notebook. Hoping that he wouldn’t notice. More than half the class already was already concentrating deeply on the work. No use failing another class.

Half way through my answer to the essential question, I heard the door shut, and paused. And looked up. And then froze. In a stupid sequence that seemed scripted.

It was him…t-that guy. O-our neighbor. For a moment, I was sure that my heart stopped—trying not to look at him as he walked in. From the corner of my eye, I saw that he pulled out a desk from on the opposite side of the room, and an unrealistic shot of relief flooded through me.

You’re being paranoid, I chastised myself, and managed to calm myself enough to fill in a thoughtless answer for my essay. Managed to at least look in control.

Coach finished typing on his computer, and then got up in front of the class. His stocky post steroid body had trouble maneuvering around his desk, and I was again surprised that he didn’t just topple over. Like I always was when he made fast movements.

He regarded us through slit eyes, looking annoyed at not being paid attention to. More than half the class was already pre-occupied. Well, the half that I could see. I tried to avoid looking over there.

“Alright,” he cleared is voice loudly, “put the notebooks away. We’re going to do a little activity today.” There was a collective groan throughout the room. Coach’s activities were infamous. More than half the time he spent rambling—digressing until we only had fifteen minutes to complete something that we had an hour to do. “It’s part of our STD awareness unit.” Yes, we know thanks. It’s all we’ve been doing for the past two weeks. But was mentioned each lesson everyday regardless.

“I’m going to be pairing you up with a partner, and then I want you two to sit and wait for the next directions.” Coach waddled the two steps that it took for him to reach his desk; grabbing a labeled cup filled with popsicle sticks. He closed his eyes to show that he was being fair, and gave the thing a good shake, before shoving a stubby hand in to retrieve a stick.

“Kyle.” He read out, and then quickly grabbed another stick. He didn’t close his eyes this time. “You’re with Collinson.” Coach always referred to his wrestling junkies by their last names. Annoying, but current.

He placed the two sticks on his desk, and continued on with his routine. Ten sticks later, and a predictable line of sighs from bum partners, I heard my name. My head jerked up involuntarily, and my insides knotted as he pulled out my partners stick. “Casper. You two can just take that table back there.” He gave a loose jerk to a corner table, and then continued on with the stick pulling thing. I didn’t hear it though—too happy that I wasn’t put with him. Possible douche-cat psycho extraordinaire. We’ll just go with him, though.

Casper walked over to me timidly, and together we walked over to our assigned table in silence. He twiddled his thumbs, seeming uncomfortable. I’d never really talked to him before—but I knew that he played lacrosse. “So…” I tried at a lame attempt at conversation. “Um, yeah. So, how’s life?” That’s nice Wednesday. Keep it smooth.

I was thankful when the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, happy that he was at least willing to make an attempt at humanity. We were partners—interaction was sort of relevant. “It’s…okay. You?” Boy, if you knew.

But, I settled on an easy, “Good.” Our little charade didn’t last that long—thankfully—because coach had made his way to the front of the room for more directions. Everyone fell silent.

“Alright up here I have cups for each group,” He gave an unnecessary motion to them, “and I want one partner to come up and get one for your group.” Coach paused—for dramatic effect most likely—than smiled. “Now, get.”

I made a move to get up, but Casper surprised me by shaking his head politely. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” I just shrugged at him, not really caring either way.

He returned a moment later, popping a mint, and sitting down mutely.

Once coach was satisfied that the class had settled down enough to listen, he resumed instructing. “ From this moment on, you and your partners are lovers.” From beside me, I saw Jammie getting a rap for having a guy partner. “You two are married, you two are in love. You two are having sex.” He said the word like it was supposed to mean something, and I nearly rolled my eyes as the class reacted with jeers.

“I want each of you to spit into the cup.” He ordered—receiving a few skeptical glares. But everyone listened, and respectively took a spit for the water. Casper did his clean and quick, followed by me. I couldn’t give either way, so wasn’t embarrassed by having to try a few times for anything to come out. If Casper thought anything of it, he didn’t comment.

Coach paused dramatically, a small smile on his lips. “You two just had sex.” I smiled slightly at Jammie’s red face from the desk over. Odd number of genders blew. “I want you two to now take a sip from the water.”

The class seemed to quiet completely, before an eruption of protests broke out. I made a face at the cup, glad to see that Casper was just as excited about this whole idea as I was. Judging by his reluctant expression.

“You could have just possibly contracted AIDS. If you’re a Fall or Winter baby, you have AIDS. And if you’re Spring or Summer you’re clean.”

Casper surprised me by laughing, and sobered down as I shot him a confused look. “Sorry, but I think I just gave you AIDS. Born in November.” He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, and I surprised myself by laughing out loud.

“It’s okay, coz either way we would have gotten it. September all the way baby!”

“But, seriously, don’t drink it. I was just kidding.” Coach went on, shooting a disapproving look to Gavin Wilson, who had the rim of the cup to his mouth.

“What?” He exclaimed. “We both have it…so why not?” The look that Coach sent him clearly said what he thought of Gavin’s intelligence level, but just shook his head silently.

“I want you and your partner to write a paragraph explaining the reasons why you think teenagers these days have unprotected, or ‘blind’ sex. You have the rest of the period.” Which, unsurprisingly, wasn’t really that much. Ten minutes coach. How generous.

Casper got a peace of paper out for us, setting it in-between him and me. “I’ll…um start if you-” I was already shaking my head before he’d even finished.

“Nah, that’s fine.” To show him that it really was, I brought the paper to me; leaning over it. And was annoyed to find that his proposition was sort of tempting. I didn’t know what the hell to write!—so I just let my pencil hover over the blank page.

“No, seriously, it’s alright. I can start us out.” I looked up finally—not because I was agreeing, but because his voice sounded weird. My eyes widened at him.

“Casper, oh my god!” He froze in the middle of speech, brows furrowing. Hives were breaking out all around his mouth in angry red splotches.

“What?” He slurred, and I made a meaningful gesture at my mouth. He seemed to get the idea.

“My mouth? Something’s wrong with my mouth?”

“You’re breaking out in hives!” I said frantically, and involuntarily, his hands came up to probe around the splotches.

“It’s…I can’t. It’s getting harder to speak. I was wondering why I sounded weird.” Casper said quietly, and a surge of fear shot threw me. Couldn’t people like die from allergic reactions or something? And his looked pretty severe.

I didn’t even consider asking before getting up and stomping over to coach’s desk. “Casper’s breaking out in hives, and I think his air ways are swelling up. I need to bring him to the nurse!” For a moment, all he did was stare at me with this odd expression, and then seemed to snap into action when I growled in frustration. Dude could be dying man. Dying!

Sarah Johnson seemed to over hear our conversation—we were sort of loud—because she offered some in put a moment later. “I’ll bring him.” By the way her eyes lit up, it was sort of obvious that she liked him. Who was I to deny a school girl crush anyways.

Coach gave her a short nod, but that didn’t seem to matter, because she was already moving to get him. Casper looked somewhat startled as she came marching over there, but allowed himself to be dragged away. He looked even worse.

And that left me severely lacking in the partner department, paperless, and five minutes until class ended. That’s a wrap right there guys.

I frowned to myself as I approached my table, stopping right in front of my chair. Oh, fuck no. “That’s not your seat.” I said levelly. He looked up from my paper a moment later—seemingly surprised. The annoyance grew. I was too pissed to feel much else. Which, was probably good. I always thought better when angry.

“I’m doing you a favour.” He shot back, and that’s when I realized that he was actually writing our paper. My paper now, I guess.

“You don’t have to do that.” Is the witty reply that I decided on. He just ignored me, finishing off the last sentence, and leaned away with a bored expression. It annoyed me to see that his handwriting was elegant and…perfect came to mind. But I refused to grant it that title.

“Great. Thanks. You can leave now.” I said nastily—not proud enough to deny a free essay. I mean come on, there was like four minutes until class ended.

His small smirk annoyed me even further, and part of me wanted to wipe it off with one good smack. “You’re incredibly nice. Remind me to print you out an award.”

My lips twisted into a cruel smile, and I leaned towards him—hoping he could see it. “I am.” I purred, bringing my hand up to rest over his. “The nicest you’ll ever meet.” His eyes darkened as he regarded me, and then an amused smile pulled at his lips abruptly.

“My name’s Devon.” He said.

“I don’t care.” Psycho’s didn’t deserve respect.

“Wednesday’s an interesting name.” He mused after a moment of collective thought, and my eyes widened. He continued leisurely. “I heard your name being called for partners.” Devon explained; crossing his arms.

“I know.” I told him placidly, frowning when he started to laugh. Like he found me amusing or something like that.

“We’re neighbors now. We live in close proximity. Making me your enemy’s really not in your best interest.” I didn’t like the expression that came into his eyes then, and scoffed to cover up my weariness.

“Um, yeah. And why’s that?” He shrugged; chuckling.

“No reason really. Just that…now, I know where you live.” The way he said it only increased the uncomfortable feeling, and I found myself staring at him longer than necessary. Trying to decipher if he was being serious or not. I wasn’t sure; the way he’d said it. Maybe he was. Wouldn’t put it past a cat-eating madman.

The bell rang a moment later, interrupting my glaring tirade. I was thankful though, being able to leave him, and took the opportunity in full stride. I didn’t even look back to see if he was behind me; just headed for my locker in silent distress.

There wasn’t really much room for any thought, but in the back of my mind, I found myself hoping that Casper was alright. Wasn’t dead or anything. At least he wasn’t a scary douchewad who may or may not want me dead. At least he wasn’t that.

--

It wasn’t that hard to find Brendon. I knew that after every period, he took a break at the restrooms. He was standing nonchalantly against the men’s room door—seemingly bored. As he saw me approaching, his expression changed completely, losing it’s impassive edge. His inky eyes came to life.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Was it that obvious? Probably. I fixed him with a plain stare.

“Take me home…please?” He eyed me suspiciously—and I hoped to god he wouldn’t say anything—but then gave a curt nod. Relief flooded through me rapidly, and I swallowed the rising lump. I hadn’t actually skipped ‘officially’ before. Officially meaning at least a whole period. But I wasn’t really sure what the rules were for something like this. Did skipping the last three periods still count as actual hooky?

We walked together in silence. There wasn’t anyone out—the bell had rung long before. I was thankful for that. At least no teachers would stop us.

It was surprisingly chilly when we reached the parking lot, but the sun made up for the lack of heat. I had to shield my eyes from it as, silently, I slid in next to him. He revved the engine without a word—and part of me thought that he was possibly angry. He looked tense.

It wasn’t until we slid to a stop in my driveway that he said anything. He fixed me with an unfathomable look that made my heart beat speed nervously. I tried to hide my face, but he was quicker—turning me so that I was forced to look at him.

“What’s going on?” He demanded softly. It wasn’t a command; I could tell he was leaving it up to me, but part of me knew that wasn’t really an option.

“Nothing.” I tried anyways. The look he sent me quickly dispelled that option, and patiently, he just waited for me to answer properly. I wanted to, and god did I want someone else to know. It never occurred to me just how alone and lost I was in this whole situation. I wasn’t even sure what I saw was real, and the dream option hadn’t been completely thrown out.

My stomach sunk. “I’m…I, it’s just. I’m scared.” And I don’t know where that came from. But that seemed to open everything, because the words just poured out in a stream like vomit after. “My cat, they’re fucking crazy Bren! My neighbors are fucking crazy!” Shut. Up. I ordered to myself.

His eyes widened, and it occurred to me that his hand was no longer holding me in place. I missed the warmth, and wanted him to put it back. “What?”

“They…” I wet my lips. God, it’d be so easy. Just to say it. Let it be someone else’s problem. “Never mind. Thanks for the ride.” I ended weakly. I couldn’t pull him into my crazy shit—what kind of friend did that?

As I was reaching to get out, his large strong hand wrapped tightly around my wrist—turning me to face him completely. Brendon’s expression startled me. His eyes were shimmering with anger; nostrils were flared.

“No. What?” This one was a command, and all I could do was shake my head dumbly.

“It’s nothing. Drop it.”

“No. What the fuck’s going on?” I shot him a distressed look, hoping he’d get the message to. Just. Drop it.

“Please, Brendon…” I sighed tiredly, and shut my eyes tightly. “I don’t want to drag you into any of it.” He made a hissing noise, and suddenly, his hand left mine.

“The fuck with that,” He snarled heatedly, running his now free hands through his long black hair. And then his eyes softened once he took in my expression. He almost looked repentant. “Sorry…it’s just. God, you know what, I just hate it! You look…geez, you look haunted or something.” How could I tell him that I was? Haunted by the mere memory.

“They ate my cat.” The words came out so twisted, and fast that I wasn’t even sure I’d said them, until he responded.

Brendon seemed to freeze in spot, muscles and tendons stretching from beneath his skin. I tried not to look at his face…and failed. He was blank—like a sheet of paper. “What?”

The moment the words hissed out of his mouth, I started. Desperate for him not to think I was crazy. “God, you must think I’m fucking insane! I feel insane. But dammit, I know what I saw! They ate my fucking cat!” My voice had risen to almost a yell, and mentally, I quieted myself.

Brendon’s hands slowly lowered until they were resting peacefully—sort of—in his lap. They would have been if it hadn’t of been for his tight grip around himself. His mouth was set in a short deliberating line, and it ached for me to look at him. Not to mention so not helping my ‘not going to cry and ruin myself’ campaign.

The longer his tense silence went on, the harder I found it to keep that one up. “Brendon?” It was weird; how my voice came out not sounding like myself. More like a croak. I cleared my throat silently—all too aware of his every move.

My stomach clenched as he sighed—sure that he was about to do something. Anything; I felt like screaming. “Who?” He said reluctantly. And it hurt to hear the skepticism in his voice.

“You don’t believe me.” I whispered, completely ignoring his moves at denying it. We both knew that it was true, so no use in ignoring what was there.

“I-come on Wednesday! I mean, it’s not like I don’t.” He clarified carefully, “It’s that it’s a little…far fetched.” At my expression he quickly continued, “But I’m not saying it didn’t. So let’s just go with the thought that it really did happen. How did it go down?”

My eyes narrowed at him, and I hoped that he could see my anger. Ouch, much Bren? “It did.” He held up a placating hand, and widened his eyes innocently at me.

“What happened Wen?” I sighed, feeling lost and trapped—but knew that he needed to understand. He needed to, even if that meant playing along with his stupid time wasting game.

I began slowly, trying the words out on my tongue before spitting them out. “It started when I was looking for Spoon, no! no, it started when our new neighbors moved in…” I told him a full fledged account—enough to fill in a police report. I told him about the pitcher of lemonade, and Devon’s hostility towards us. And of course, the actual remains of Spoon were mentioned too—that one was a little hard. When I had finished, Brendon was staring out the window at Devon’s house with a mixture of curiosity and horror. It looked like the story was sinking in.

“Wen! You need to go to the police!” He exclaimed after a moment, and my stomach sunk. I’d already thought that one out.

“Brendon, I can’t go. I don’t have any evidence!” His expression turned from anger to disbelief in a matter of seconds; fixing me with a flat stare.

“Um, yeah, because remains of cat parts aren’t evidence.” He rolled his eyes at me, and my face heated up under his scrutiny.

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t Brendon. What if they come after me! I know they will—he will. God, and now you’re part of it. I could have dealt with it if it was just me, but now they could go after you too!” I sat there for a moment, panting with the effort to digest everything. “Sorry, Bren.” I mumbled apologetically after a few moments. His eyes snapped up to mine, and I was happy when he took my hand in his. Made me feel safe.

“Don’t be Wen. Hey, are you sure they’re not there? The um…the remains. Because, fuck, that’s some seriously substantial evidence right there.” He squeezed my hand, and I looked up to give him a flat stare. I didn’t want to go the police if could help it, and I knew he just wanted to help. But going to the police would make me sound crazy. Absolutely fucking insane, and I don’t think I could deal with everyone thinking that—along with me.

“I don’t know.” I finally sighed, not about to volunteer for the job. Brendon eyed me, and I could tell that he was annoyed. Then he abruptly pushed his door open, surprising me by getting out. It didn’t even register to me what he was doing until he started to walk over to his house. My eyes widened in disbelief at him—part of me wanting to go out there and hit him, and the other half wanting him to go. To find out for me.

Fear was the only thing that kept me in place, though—allowing me to watch as he looked in their bushes—and I hoped that they weren’t home. Well, his parents weren’t. Having charges pressed against Brendon would really just be the icing atop the cake. Way to go Wen, you’ve successfully ruined his life, yours, and managed to get him put in the pin. You’re awesome.

From the moment he looked up, and started walking back, I knew there was nothing there. And it surprised me, that some invisible hope seemed to fall in my chest. Maybe I had silently been hoping for there to be something all along so there was at least evidence that I wasn’t crazy.

Brendon slid into the car mutely. He sat in silence, and I didn’t feel compelled to drag an answer out of him. Actually, if we were going with what I wanted, I wouldn’t have even gone to school today. Well, the half that I did go to.

Just talk, say something, I begged myself. It’s not hard—you talk to him everyday. But this is different, I debated back. Very different. My mouth opened, and for a moment I was terrified that I was actually going to say something, but was cut off by the rumble of an engine approaching our car.

Involuntarily both of our attentions were dragged to the red Mazda cruising up beside us. The windows were tinted—so I couldn’t see inside—but that problem was fixed a moment later as they rolled down at a leisurely rate. A good looking man with aristocratic features was revealed; steely eyes looking us with what was probably meant to be warmth. They were cool as slate in colour. “Hey, you must be our new neighbor. I remember you from the other day, and Devon’s already spoken about you. I’m his dad, Richard.” His mouth quirked into a semblance of a grin, and my lips pursed.

“Um…hi.” I whispered. His laugh was throaty and strong as he regarded me; and it made me uncomfortable. It sounded mocking—like he was silently making fun of me. From beside me Brendon was stone still, glaring at a part of the road.

“Yeah, I was just coming back from work, and I noticed you two in the car. So, thought I’d drop a hello.” How considerate. I gave him a short once over, and noted that he wasn’t wearing a suit or anything. So that pretty much crossed out high corporate jobs. “Um, so, it’s a little early for school to be let out…” He continued brazenly, and my expression turned to ice.

Before I could say anything, Brendon cut in coldly. “We’re out of school for personal matters.” A cool smirk pulled at the corners of my mouth as Devon’s dad’s lips pursed into a disapproving line. He didn’t say anything else on the matter.

“Oh, right. Well nice meeting you.” The car rode away as swiftly and silently as it had come—like a predator almost. I was left with a cold feeling in my gut. From beside me Brendon was glaring at his hands, and I gently rested a reassuring palm on his shoulder.

His eyes suddenly flickered to my face, and then he leaned over and kissed my cheek in a comforting manor—the movement in definition was so small and insignificant; it happened everyday to billions of people, but meant the world to me. If only for the fact that it translated everything I needed to know; to hear. My stomach lifted painfully, and I knew that he believed me. That I wasn’t alone in this.

"Fuck it all to hell. We're both so screwed it's sortta funny." He laughed, and for the first time in what seemed like ever, I let myself laugh with him. A heart wrenching laugh that was both genuine and painful at the same time. Because, seriously, it was the truth.

AN: that one was long...and sort of a filler for what has to happen next. A long filler, but a filler. We had to deal with the emotions of having your cat eaten people. That's a little traumatizing don't you think? Anyways, next chap will have some interesting things happen. For one Devon will be back...along with Richard and of course Brendon! it won't really focus on the school setting either. So hope you enjoyed. Drop us a review :) it makes us happy.