Memory.

Once, when I was seven, eight, or maybe nine - I can't recall anymore - Mom and Dad brought Chris, Jack and I to the park during the weekend, a twenty minutes drive from our home. Originally, they had intended to invite Jack's parents as well, but they had politely declined and said they had to attend a soiree in Los Angeles. Sometimes I wonder if their marital relationship had already soured back then.

I remember the weather was lovely, that Saturday. The summer heat was blistering hot on our necks as we trudged through the grass. Squirrels scurried here and there, My parents found a cool area underneath an oak tree where it's lush, green leaves shielded them from the sun's UV rays, and there they lay down the picnic sheet. While Mom began setting out the food, Dad ushered us out of the way and told us to go play.

Chris (ever the mischevious brat) rushed off to the closest yellow-poplar and clambered up to the tree with the swiftness of a monkey. "Bet you can't climb this tree!" He shouted provocatively as he found footing in one of it's rounded notches.

"Can too!" I retorted angrily. I'd always known the competitive streak was in him, but it was hard not to take offense at his words.

"Then why don't you try it? Are you scared?" Chris jeered. He was already sitting on the branch with an impish grin on his face; his legs dangling nonchalantly in the air.

I folded my arms indignantly. "Then how come you don't ask Jack to try?"

Beside me, Jack was shuffling his feet, his hands dug in his trouser pockets. A strained and apologetic smile came across his face. "I don't like climbing trees . . . I'm afraid of heights," he admitted shamefacedly, his gaze on the ground.

That was Jack for you. Always so candid.

Slightly taken aback, I hurried to veil my shock by slapping him on the back merrily, and he jumped. "Don't worry!" I said reassuredly. "Everybody's gotta be afraid of something!" Then, hardening my resolve, I levelled my eyes on Chris, who, despite being two metres higher than us, had heard Jack perfectly clear. My brother was giggling hysterically - yes, giggling. Don't ask - at his best bud, and I didn't miss the reddening tips of Jack's ears.

Even at the age of ten, Jack's pride was as fragile as a newborn baby.

"Shut up and watch me climb up to the highest branch, nicompoop!" I hollered at Chris, and, skipping up to the tree beside his, I threw my arms and legs around the trunk and inched my way up.

Slowly. Carefully.

In my childhood, there was only a handful of times when I attempted to climb trees, unlike Chris. Whenever he ventured out of the house, he always returned looking like a ragamuffin with soil and leaves and twigs in his hair and new injuries on his arms and legs.

I ignored the fact that my body wasn't flattening the abundance (aka a trillion) of insects as I clambered upwards, and in my haste to get to the top, accidentally lost my footing on the nook of the tree.

I let out a startled cry.

Flailing my arms and legs wildly, I reached blindly for something - anything - to grasp hold of, and amidst the horrifying frenzy, managed to fasten my hands on a sturdy branch.

"Holy moly!" Chris shouted. The previous jeer in his voice had vanished, replaced by one overflowing with brotherly concern. "Hold on, sis! I'll save you!" He clumsily scrambled down the tree and ended up falling on his hands and knees, but he ignored the scrapes and stood up. What he meant by saving me was to run to my parents and scream like a banshee: "Mom! Dad! Del needs help!"

Beads of cold sweat popped out on my forehead as I struggled to perservere and keep firm hold of the branch. Whimpering softly, I chanced a look below.

And immediately regretted it. I gulped when I saw the distance between me and the ground.

Jack was . . . tiny.

Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead, and suddenly, my hands felt slippery on the rough contours on the appendage of the tree.

"I—I . . . " My voice trembles and a lump forms in my throat. I can feel my heart battering against my rib-cage like a furious lion trying to barge it's way through metal bars.

Kicking my legs, I attempt to somehow miraculously swing myself onto the branch, and fail.

Panic.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins.

Fear.

Every breath comes out as ragged gasps.

Surrender.

My vision swims with tears and resignation washes over me. I stop struggling to gain firm foothold, and force myself to acknowledge the ultimate truth.

"I can't hold on anymore," I whisper to myself.

Then, everything happens in slow motion.

As if my palms had been applied with layers of lubricating oil, I am helpless as my fingers slowly uncurl around the branch, until my finger tips are barely touching it. Anticipating my imminent plummet downwards is something a thousand times more torturous compared to abrupt accidents like car crashes, because I know that I'm about to experience pain; I just don't have a clue how much it'll really hurt.

I cannot hold on any longer.

Instinctively, I curl into a protective ball. Squeeze my eyelids shut.

And free fall.

But I never hit the ground, because when gravity ceased it's pull, scrawny arms embraced my small form. In the distance, I heard Chris hollering and my parents scrambling towards me. Then there's an "oomph!" and, like a rolling boulder, I collide against someone's stomach head-first and we both fell onto the grass clumsily with a thump.

Silence.

Strange . . . not one morsel of my flesh hurts.

Shaking my head out of it's daze, I blink confusedly, and find myself gazing at a certain person with effervescent gray eyes and a lopsided smile.

"Gotcha," Jack said breathlessly.

My breath caught in my throat.

-

And you catch me when I fall.

-

-

Valley High is a school renowned around America for it's sure-win varsity teams, and although the overall academic achievements in the school isn't something to cheer about, it's one of the more decent half of the country's public schools. Of course, we have the typical bad-boys and unscrupulous girls who mess up Valley High's reputation, but it's cool.

The least cool subject, though, is Social Studies.

Principal Taverner had quaintly decided that since we wouldn't be tested on topics related to that subject, there was no need to waste the school's staff and facilities. (Albeit in actuality they claimed that it was a good way to allow students of different ages to socialise. Pssht. Then what are parties for?)

Thus, classes consisting of seniors and juniors were stuffed into one classroom with a displeased teacher, who, in my case, was a cranky old woman called Ms Abbott (definitely can't imagine a Mrs there - no offence) with a totally Botox face and whose nostrils often flared when she got pissed off.

Which was an awful lot.

To top it all off, she force-feeds us social bullshit and often steers off topic by going on passionate rants about feminism, and how females should have the confidence to drink their own menstrual blood.

I think I threw up a little in my mouth.

Unfortunately, since there were only two social studies classes for eleventh and twelfth graders, I was one of the unlucky half to be separated from the presence of Colin Jackson, and instead, was thrown in the same vicinity as Akiko, Jack and Nadeve.

Joy.

Nadeve's confident, lilting voice rippled across my thoughts. "Many citizens of the United States of America often complain about the huge line between the rich and poor. It is said that our country has the third highest inequality and poverty among nations studied, and the gap has increased rapidly since 2000."

Since her arrival two months ago, Nadeve's popularity has been doing nothing but soaring. As the queen bee Vanessa welcomed her back with open arms, the rest of Valley High tripped over their feet to cater to her demands. Eighty percent of the male population were convinced they had fallen in love with her (and no, I'm not bitter because what used to my admirers had flocked to Nadeve's sultry charms) and all the girls idolized her like she was Angelina Jolie . . .

Not that Jack was Brad Pitt in any sense.

Because, somehow, he's better than that.

"Facts and figures. Good," Ms Abbott muttered as she scribbled on her clipboard.

Being the curious cat I was, I sneaked a not-so-subtle peek at Jack, who was indolently watching his ex.

"Stop ogling at him," Akiko hissed from beside me. "Nadeve's watching you like a hawk."

And indeed she was.

I couldn't have seen the contempt of her face, if it were not for the way the corners of her mouth pulled down slightly, and the narrowing of her eyes as she watched me. Through it all, Nadeve's speech didn't falter a single bit.

For most of her five-minute speech, I zoned out, but then immediately perked up when Nadeve came to her conclusion. Her deduction was something along the lines of:

"Both the low and high-caste people in the society deserve what they get. Though the extremely wealthy often have the power to manipulate the government and thus enhance the money which goes into their coffers, their status in the society and the money in their bank accounts are rightfully earned by hard work on either their own parts or that of their ancestors . . . " And la-dee-da.

Finally, she finished her hideously tiresome speech.

The room swelled with applause and whistles. Nadeve made a graceful, sweeping gesture with her hands. "Gracias." She smiled winningly at her audience, and then arched her brow. "Questions, anybody?"

Akiko nudged me with her elbow; God know's how she can read my mind, but I ignored her and raised my hand. "I can't help but assume that your speech is biased. Aren't your thoughts are gravitating towards that of an elitist? " Pretending a few students weren't boo-ing and hissing, I gave her a constipated smile.

Her returned smile was just as fake as she tossed her hair arrogantly. "You're speaking like some bleeding heart liberal. And I'm not an elitist, just pragmatic." She tsk-ed in that condescending way of her's. "Delaney, it's never right to assume until everything is set black and white." I gritted my teeth and resisted the temptation to throw my white-out at her. In the corner, Ms Abbott was nodding in agreement.

"And it's not my place to act as an elitist, because, unless you suffer from amnesia—" More than a few students snickered. "— I feel inclined to remind you that my parents make a living by selling oolong tea and simple herbal medicines . . . Unless you purposely brought that up to insult my heritage?"

What the heck? I found it amazing and contemptuous how easily Nadeve could twist my words into a dagger and in the next moment, profusely stab me. I wanted to meld into my seat (but I did nothing wrong!) as I felt people's disdainful eyes on me like the blistering sun burning into the back of my neck.

"Delaney Coleman, it is a scornful thing to do in my presence by discriminating against Nadeve because of her family's financial status," Ms Abbott said in a abhorrent tone. More scornful whispers arose around me.

Thanks for fanning the fire, man.

I looked around helplessly at all of Nadeve's ass-kissers, feeling the nervous sweat accumulating in my armpits. I never liked it when a majority of the opinion pegged me as the bad person. Then, I caught his eye.

Searing sunlight from the windows rippled across his face as Jack inclined his head languorously. His smoldering gray eyes were fixated on Nadeve's face. "Maybe you took what Delaney said in the wrong way," he said in a cool voice.

Tension hung in the air as everyone held their breath. Waiting for the drama to unfold.

Like vultures.

"A plus!" barked Ms Abbott. I sighed in relief. For once she got her timing right.

Just like that, the silent spell was broken and Nadeve sauntered over to her desk behind Jack as if she wasn't just publicly challenged by her ex. She lingered longer than necessary as she passed Jack, and commented on the hot weather (in early Spring the temperature's an average of seventeen degrees celcius. I'm sure she was burning. I'm surprised she hasn't melted like the Wicked Witch of the West yet,) before sliding off her jacket and revealed ample cleavage most exclusively for Jack. One of his friends craned his neck to see, and Nadeve stilled him in his spot with an icy glare.

Ms Abbott then called up the next doomed student to present, and a short boy with nerdy glasses and trembling legs walked up to the front. Akiko stopped eyeing me from the corner of her eye like the worry-wart she was, and instead, focused on the boy's presentation. However, a majority of the students' attention were glued on the most popular, gossip worthy ex-couple, Nadeve and Jack.

She leaned down slightly and her lips parted to whisper seductively in his ear.

Jack jolted as if she'd administered an electric shock, and jerked his head sharply. As if he couldn't bear to look at her.

And, for a fleeting moment, Jack's bottomless, iridescent gray eyes caught mine like a butterfly net trapped a butterfly. My heart fluttered beyond control as his solemn orbs penetrated into my soul and stole the air in my lungs and caused me to hyperventilate in a way that made my head spin and somehow, it was as if I was floating on zero gravity. Even Colin Jackson didn't have this preternatural effect on me. But I was pulled out of this dream - no, distraction - when I also sensed Nadeve's angry, accusatory green eyes on me.

I tore my gaze from his face and looked away.

-

-

"Stop eating those cucumbers! It's the sixth one I've given you!" Derrick huffed indignantly like a puffed-up pidgeon as he slapped another green cucumber slice on my eye and smeared some smashed avocado on my face. We actually had a heck of a time mashing up those green veggies I so absolutely hated into pulp.

However, it is one hell of a boring thing to do, lying still for fifteen minutes straight letting my beauty-conscious BFF give me his one-of-a-kind organic facial treatment. It was a total waste of time, and I didn't hesitate to tell him that.

"Geez, you whine too much. When I'm the founder of the next Body Shop, you'll be on your knees for free facials," he replied with a complacent smirk.

I grumbled. "I can't believe we're being your guinea pigs, and I have sensitive skin! If I get a rash when I go back home, I'm suing you for retribution on medical fees."

"And if I cure your skin problems?"

I scoffed at that. "Uh huh, and birds can swim." I always dream of being the inventor of the next, wide-used idiom. Though I have to say that sounds kind of familiar . . .

Akiko's velvety voice broke into my musings. "It's 'pigs can fly,' Del." I could hear the smile in her voice. "And besides, if I recall correctly, are ducks not part of the avian family?"

Ah. So there's that little exception . . .

"And swans. Cranes. Albatrosses. Geese. Penguins. St—"

"Okay, okay! I get the point!" I held up my hands in mock surrender, and then squirmed uncomfortably.

"Stop moving!"

"Gosh, alright! Somebody's Mr Uptight today." I muttered under my breath.

From across me, Akiko sighed through her nose. "You two are so noisy, like two young, bickering children. How can I relax for fifteen minutes listening to you shouting?"

Derrick immediately quieted like a child reprimanded by his mother.

I blinked rapidly so the cucumber slid down my eyelids inconspicuously and onto my brow bone (Derrick would just slap my hand away if he saw me try) and slid a sideways glance at her direction. Akiko was lying on the floor with her head propped on a pillow, an identical sight as me with two slices of cucumber gently placed on her closed eyelids and light green veggie cream on her face.

Her black eye from a few weeks ago had gradually faded. It was rimmed with a yellowish tint that marred her alabaster face, and her eye was still bloodshot, though now, the worst people could assume that had happened to her would be red eye disease. In the first few days, it had remained a glaring purplish-black color, but the delicate way she arranged her side-locks ensured that few people found out. To those who did (including Jack, to my utmost surprise. He never struck me as the observant type) she gave them the same explanation she gave us, which - and I don't know why - raised eyebrows. Anyway, she used concealer and eye shadow to cover it up afterwards, so everything was fine and dandy. But even Akiko couldn't escape the claws of Derrick the Insistent, who had forced her to wash it off for this uber-special (rolls eyes) organic remedy of his.

"Der, pass me a choco-chip cookie, will ya?" I mumbled sleepily, and when he shoved it into my mouth, I coughed and spluttered and nearly choked to death.

-

-

"I'm SoooOOoooOOooo sorry," Derrick droned on in a not-very-apologetic tone.

I gave him an icy glare that could've brought the Devil himself to his knees, before sipping from my fifth cup of water.

He launched into another nasalized intonation for the twentieth time. "I'm SoooOOoo—are your eyes okay? They look as if they're about to drop out of their sockets." Derrick then decided that he needed to imitate my expression by bugging out his eyes like a bug-eyed goldfish and also added an extra feature (lucky me) by flaring his nostrils exaggeratedly as if he had some breathing problem. Akiko burst into laughter.

I did not find that amusing at all.

"You tried to murder me," I said accusingly, not breaking my unnerving gaze from him.

Derrick pouted and made (more like attempted) that really cute kitty face Puss in Boots from Shrek II pulled off. In his case, however, he just looked like he had old man jowls. "But it was an accident," he enunciated. "Aaaccident. A-C-I-D-E-N-T. Get it?"

Noooooooo. Please repeat that again. I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised it didn't just roll to the back of my head. "Uh-huh, and now two things are apparent. One, you can't spell. And two, it just goes to show how much you vy for my gracious forgiveness." My tone was sarcastic. "Save it, Der."

He sighed and popped a caramel cookie into his mouth. "Then what can I do to beg for your royal highneshes' forgivenesh?" he asked as he munched noisily. Akiko frowned at the sight of the cookie pulp in his mouth. Derrick noticed and hastily swallowed.

"You'll do anything?" I said gleefully.

Derrick put his hand to his heart. "For you, a thousand times over," he said somberly.

I scoffed. "That beautiful line you ripped off Khaled Hosseini is so misused coming out of your mouth. BUT, I'll take your offer," I smiled angelically, and said, "Let's watch Revolutionary Road for the remainder of the night, okay?" I grinned from ear to ear. "Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio are the main leads! And Winslet's husband is directing the movie! Ooh, and there's also a sex scene, but you can cover your eyes, Aki, if you don't want to watch that PG-13 part."

My best friends could not muster up as much gusto as I hoped they could Akiko's shoulder's drooped and Derrick slapped a hand to his forehead after he realised just exactly what he'd gotten himself into. "And no sneaking away either!" I added firmly as Derrick tried to slink away into the shadows. He opened his mouth to protest and I cut him off, "Not even to the bathroom. Ha!" I stuck out my tongue triumphantly at him.

"And listen to Del's incessant fangirling? Just shoot me please," he muttered as I dragged he and Akiko with me to Derrick's sitting room and inserted the DVD into the machine. He had no siblings and his dad was still at work, so that left his mom, who was humming to herself as she washed the dishes in the kitchen (she was too nice to allow us to help out.)

It was ten-thirty when the movie finished, and Akiko was bored as she got out of the sofa and stretched, yawning, and Derrick rubbed his bleary eyes (I pinched him when he dozed off. I wasn't exactly disposed to forgiveness when he caused my near-death experience.) Not that I could blame them, though. The movie was a far cry from Titanic's brilliance, but it was okay.

The machine ejected the DVD and I carefully looped a finger through the whole and kept my other finger on the edge to be careful not to scratch it as I placed it back in it's case. I was beginning to regret wasting five bucks on renting this.

"Even Paris Hilton's strip-tease music videos are better than that," Derrick muttered, and reddened when Akiko shot him a look.

"Wasn't as good as you'd expected, right?" she said in that soft voice of her's. Her silky black hair draped like a curtain as she smoothed her black sweater and pleats.

I sighed and nodded. "Maybe we should've watched something from Derrick's kick-ass Hayao Miyazaki DVD collection. Howl's Moving Castle would've been a nice way to pass time." I stifled a yawn. "I should go and call Chris to pick me up . . . But it is Friday, and he's not grounded anymore, so . . . " For a brief moment I contemplated calling Jack, but that would just give him ideas. I mean, I'd seem like a tenacious person if I always bugged him, even though we had known each other for nearly a decade . . . Ugh. Things were just so much simpler when we were kids.

"You want to come with us?" Derrick offered, swinging his set of keys around his pinky. "I'm giving Aki a ride home too." I brightened at the suggestion. "Thanks! Offer accepted! I'll just head over to the kitchen and say bye to your mom . . . " Derrick saw through my true intentions. "I bet anything you're after her home-made cookies," he said, grinning. I smiled sheepishly and headed to the kitchen, where his parents were chattering at the dinner table.

"Hey, Mr and Mrs Parson," I said politely, and turned to Derrick's mom. "Can I please bring home some of your yummylicious cookies?" I asked.

She lighted up like a Christmas tree. "Of course, dear! Why, you're the only person who appreciates them so much!" She was practically beaming with pride and happiness. Mrs Parson jumped out of her seat to go to the kitchen (with me hot on her heels) and grabbed a generous helping of cookies and put them in a Ziploc bag.

"Here you go," she said, smiling as she handed me the bag. I thanked her. "My mom could really use some lessons from you. She's a disaster in the kitchen." I cringed as I remembered the incident where she somehow set the toaster on fire and we had to call the fire department. Crazy scary as hell. I was twelve at that time, and Chris had gone fishing with Dad. Luckily, Jack was at our house then and he'd calmly handled the situation by calling 911 with two females and a baby (equipped with one awesome set of lungs) screaming like banshees in the back ground. It was an experience I never wanted to go through again.

Mrs Parson was actually considering the idea. "Lessons?" She tasted the word on her tongue and cocked her head sideways as if she was in deep thought. Her mouth curved into a smile. To my amazement, she said, "That sounds like a fabulous idea!" Then, Mrs Parson proceeded to ask me to scribble my mom's cell number on a napkin and told me she'd call up Mom in a few days and discuss the details. Wowzers. I guess we might actually be having some decent, cooked-up food in the future. Thanking her again for the cookies, I headed for Derrick's Volkswagen, where he and Aki were already buckled up and waiting.

"Der, your mom is seriously awesome," I said to him as he revved up the engine. "She just offered free lessons for my mom! No more indigestible, burnt-black cake!" I licked my lips, then lamented, "The cakes she baked never lived up to the 'A Slice of Heaven' expression."

Akiko laughed softly and inclined her head towards the window, quietly observing the rows of trees which blurred by as Derrick drove. It seemed like a nice, quiet night out. Derrick put on Richard Marx's song Right Here Waiting and the music flowed through the silence. I relaxed on the seat and leaned my forehead against the cool surface of the window.

Wherever you go
Whatever you do
I will be right here waiting for you

A corner of my mouth lifted at listening to the sweet melody of my favorite song. Twenty years ago, it was whilst this same voice blared out of the scratchy old-fashioned radio, that my dad went down on one knee and slipped a diamond ring on my mom's finger. It was this same song that, for my entire childhood, served as a lullaby and coaxed me into sleep filled with sweet dreams.

Whatever it takes
Or how my heart breaks
I will be right here waiting for you

These particular lyrics pulled at my heart string and made it sting.

Is this Jack? Confessing that he loved me and sealing the truth of those words with a kiss, then having to put up with me telling him to pretend it never happened. But, in the end, he accepted.(though hopefully his heart didn't break. Laugh Out Loud. I think weird thoughts. How could his heart break because of me?) I'm pretty sure that the only time he ever did and will break his heart is two years ago when Nadeve ran away with some fellow loser hippie.

Yet . . . He's done so much more for me than I did for him, and all I do is get annoyed at him and tell him to get off my back. I could tell he was still angry, yet he still defended me when Nadeve tried to stick a verbal knife in my back. I didn't even thank him for that yet . . .

Was I being fair to him?

My head throbbed from pondering this. But Jack didn't always fit into the shoes of a Good Samaritan ( . . . do they even wear shoes?) He also liked broke off the heads of my barbie dolls, sat on my birthday cake, walked around the school in my bras. And that's not it. I remember how I crushed on this guy called Eddie Whyte for years, and we were on great terms. But one day, when he came to school with a black eye, he had blatantly ignored me. Being my first crush, I was obsessed with him and obviously heart-broken when one day we were good friends, and the next, he was treating me as if I didn't exist.

Only when I confronted him about it did he spill the beans. The words that came out of his mouth were bitter. "Go ask Jack. He know's all about it." And that's how I knew Jack had interfered.

"I hate you!" I remember saying with all the loathing I could muster. I didn't talk to him for months after that, until Chris realised what was happening and explained it all to me.

"Everyone in the school knew about the bet he made with his buddies, but they were too mean to give you a warning. He wanted to get you into bed, for chrissakes! He was only fourteen but his intentions were disgusting. I was going to teach him a lesson with my fists that afternoon, but Jack beat me to it. He did you a favor there, sis."

Jack never told me about the bet. Whether it was because of my already-bruised heart, or maybe because I was giving him the silent treatment, I didn't know. But what I do know, is that in the end, I was thankful.

He annoyed me alot, yes, I'd give him that, but I definitely could never hate him.

Derrick suddenly switched off the music, and he said gravely, "Guys, I need to tell you something."

Exchanging bemused looks, Akiko and I glanced at him. He was driving steadily with both hands on the steering wheel, yet his body was rigid like he had a stiff back or something. "We're all ears," she said, folding her hands on her lap.

"Well, you know last Sunday? My dad had his colleague friends at our home with their families for barbeque?" We both nodded. "Um, there was this guy about the same age as me, called Jeremiah. We were the only hip people there." Akiko rolled her eyes and Derrick hurried on. "You guys, don't judge me yet! Anyway, we struck up a conversation and just talked about stuff, and he ranted about how all the guys he'd met were jerks, so talking to me was refreshing. So I was like, uh, okay . . . Thanks, I think?" Derrick shivered, and I spotted the goosebumps rising on his arm despite the warmth of the car.

"And he laughed and said, 'Oh, you're so cute!' which kinda weirded me out since I've never met a guy who says that in that type'a sugary voice . . . " Coughyoucough, I think, but I don't voice that thought aloud. "And SUDDENLY, he frenched me! Muchos tongue action!" A strangled noise emitted from the back of his throat. "For a few seconds I was rooted to the spot with shock, but luckily his dad swooped in on time and rescued me. Ugh! I felt so violated!" Akiko and I laughed as he made a hacking noise and wrapped a hand around his throat. "Brushed my teeth for half an hour straight. Used two litres of Colgate mouthwash. Yuck! Can you get AIDs from this?"

Chortling, Akiko said, "Not unless he's actually infected, or if you've got an ulcer in your mouth."

"Dear God, no!" Derrick cried, and immediately proceeded to pull his lips upside down to peer at the insides of his mouth via the rearview mirror, poking relentlessly at the inside of his cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," Akiko reminded, and Derrick sank back into his seat looking as if the doctor'd just announced he had some terminal illness. Which wouldn't exactly be far off.

"Gosh, that's hilarious," I said, giggling. I didn't blame Jeremiah for kissing Derrick because, well, I guess my best guy friend did seem pretty appealing to homosexuals. Your typical all-American boy with good looks to boot.

The car slowed to a stop.

"Oh, we're here," Akiko announced quietly, her bottom lip was pulled back behind her teeth in what seemed like a sign of agitation. Derrick and I both followed her gaze. His mouth formed a small 'o'.

"Aki . . . who's that man?" I asked tentatively, nodding towards an unconscious man who was lying on the grass in her front yard. There was puke all over his clothes, and the dim moonlight bounced off the empty, green Heineken bottle wrapped around his fingers.

She broke off her gaze at the drunken man and laughed, which startled me. "Him?" she said, and rolled her eyes. "Probably just some intoxicated old man who stumbled upon my lawn. We all know this neighborhood isn't exactly the best. He'll be gone in the morning." She waved a dismisive hand. "My dad's waiting inside, goodbye." Akiko slid off the seat with fluid grace and shut the car-door, then strutted towards her front porch and pulled out her key wallet.

Derrick twisted the key in the ignition and the car moved forward, passing by tall bushes. . . only to idle to a stop.

I paled. "Don't tell me you ran out of gas, Der."

He shook his head and turned off the engine, and the headlights as well. Derrick looked at me with a serious look in his eyes. "Del, you've always complained about how Aki never tells you - us - anything. I'm showing you some answers now." He gestured towards the heavily inebriated man.

I frowned in irritation as I tried to peer through the umbrage of leaves. "Why the heck are we stopping just to watch some drunk guy sleep in his vom . . . huh?" A shadow fell on the man's body and for a moment I thought it was a murderer, but then I recognised the curtain of shiny black hair and the slender form. Akiko.

She bent down and lifted him up with difficulty - for he was a corpulent chunk of meat, and she was just twig and bones in comparison - before helping him to loop his arm around her her neck and they stumbled for a few steps (with the man barely giving any effort) before a look of alarm crossed Akiko's face, and she tripped and fell, with the man collapsing on top of her. I gasped and almost wanted to run out of the car to help her, but then she got up again, managed to summon some strength to support the half-unconscious guy, before limping slowly, carefully, to her front door. With some difficulty, she fumbled through her keys and found the right one and opened the door. The lights in the house flickered on, and both she and the man disappeared inside.

Frozen in my seat, I gaped after them for a few more seconds, before I spun around and looked at Derrick with wide eyes. "Aki just brought some random guy into her home! Isn't that dangerous?"

He looked at me with eyes full of raw pain.

"Don't you get it, Del? That's her father."

-

-

authorsnote

HELLO, LURKERS! I see so many people story-alerting/favoriting the ABC's, and only half of those people actually deign a review. I love reading all your comments! Seriously, even a word can make my day!

And to all my regular reviewers (I recognise the presence and absence of your names) I LOVE YOU x1000000000.

ALSO:

Heads up, guys. LOTS of drama in the future. If this story's going to be taken seriously, I'm afraid I can't include humor & dramarama all at once, though I'll try my best!

BAD NEWS: Sadly, summer hols end today, so updates = infrequent in the future. I've also got my GCSEs this year and I'm beginning to feel the pressure of studying (NOOOOO) so... yups. Please understand, my lovely, understanding readers!

Aurora Corona (yes, another shift in my pen-name. Get used to it ;D)