She led a quiet rebellion, doing whatever she felt like without a big flash of confectionary, unlike those other rebels who would scream if they could, "I am smoking pot and skipping school, I don't care what you think, because I'm different from all the rest!"

Like a swan, she was graceful, beautiful, and had the wings to be free.

Michael talked to her a lot, this Catholic priest's son. About their days, a dream, and their schoolwork, just before the bell that said, "Class has started."

After, he'd diligently take out his pens, lay them straight on the desk, set his notebook before him, and his homework right on top. She sneakily ate the last of her food, drank some of her cleverly hidden beer, and put her CD player on volume low. Of course, her notebook thrown casually on her desk too, so it'd look like she was doing something.

He was over-religious, straight-backed, and an all A's student; she was quiet, shy, and her grades were a total mystery.

Do you believe opposites attract? Because though they acted like such friends, they secretly loathed breathing the same air, being in the same room all the time, and secretly wished the other to be killed by a drunk driver.

Just thinking that the air they were currently inhaling could have been exhaled from the other just a few seconds ago was enough to cause on to stop breathing completely until he or she couldn't handle it anymore, and they'd inhale a desperate breath of air, so obvious in their hurriedness, that others including the hated one with a smile hiding malice so effectively would ask, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all! Don't worry," was the usual replay, "Did you need help on problem #3?"

"No, I'll just guess, thanks."

It was today that it all changed.

Principal Tuttle, the tactless man he is, made school headlines of the sudden fact that Michael's parents were butchered in their sleep, right after he left early in the morning for school, their bodies made into some kind of macabre in-house scavenger hunt with all their body parts, and the "grand prize" was the secret, hidden location of both their genitals wrapped up in a small trash bag.

The main suspect? Her. Of course. She was the only enemy any of the respectable family had, even if they pretended to be friends.

"It was Amrie. It's her! She hates me! I know it," he said crazed, and dropped to his knees in devout prayer, over his parents' body parts, some still yet to be found.

Lie detectors, questioning until 5 a.m., even a crazed him, who couldn't handle it anymore and in a moment of mental relapse, threatened her whole family, but she was never convicted since there simply was no evidence and she had a solid alibi, skinny-dipping with the senior valedictorian (2 years older), in "the beautiful dew of morning."

Michael never believed her. I did, because I knew who the murderer was. On Lifetime's "Unsolved Mysteries" 20 years later, they called me "a gruesome artist". I was truly touched, and I owe it all to my young high school love for a swan.