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

He barks.

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

I’m not going back.

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

I’d do anything at all…

I have alfredo sauce in my curls.

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

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

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

I left school and I’m not going back.

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

He sits, and whimpers.

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

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

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

“Oi,” she groans. “Somebody needs to get your young b’hind outta dis house.”

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

Or else I’ll be alone.

“I’m okay, Selma,” I reassure her with a smile, placing a light kiss on her dark cheek. “I’m cooking dinner.”

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

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

I’m such an idiot.

“So what is dis?” Selma points to my sauce.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ever.

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

I poke my head through the doorway nervously. “Grandmother.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

“Well I…” Her voice trails off, and I’m sure she knows that I’m mad at her. “How are you?”

I laugh bitterly. “Take a guess.”

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

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

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

“My, how convenient,” I sigh. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“I’m not lying!,” she whines. “Look, you can ask Heather the next time…”

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

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

I hate life.

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

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

“Not exactly,” she says, innocently.

I don’t like it.

“We need a mascot.”

“A mascot,” I laugh again, and turn off the water. “You’re kidding me, right?”

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

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

“Hey! That’s not fair.” She sounds offended. “None of the stuff that’s happened, happened because of me Justin. That was all…them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” she chuckles. “You’re the genius right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can,” she say softly. “If it will help, I can.”

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

“You’re about to what?”

I sigh. “Dine. Eat dinner. I’m sorry if my dialect is too formal for your immature ears.”

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

“Be on time, okay?”

“Duh.”

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

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

And he does.

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

And now it’s nine o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then everything went dark.

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

That’s all I care to remember.

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

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

How did I get up here?

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

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

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

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

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

I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll pay more attention in the future.”

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for proving myself to dork boy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I feel myself blush a little. “I…just…”

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

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

“Miss?”

I look at Selma again, and laugh nervously. “Sorry…I’m going. It was nice meeting you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought we could talk,” I say quietly. “I know you’re still mad about yesterday…”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

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

God, what the hell? Gag me.

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not looking at me, but his comment was enough to make me smile a little. “So you…”

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

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

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