One –

"I miss the sound of your voice. And I miss the rush of your skin. And I miss the still of your silence as you breathe out and I breathe in. If I could walk on water—if I could tell you what's next—I'd make you believe; I'd make you forget. So come on get higher, loosen my lips; faith and desire in the swing of your hips; just pull me down hard and drown me in love. So come on get higher, loosen my lips; faith and desire in the swing of your hips; just pull me down hard and drown me in love. I miss the sound of your voice, the loudest thing in my head. And I ache to remember…. What's next?"

"…all the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said. If I could walk on water—if I could tell you what's next—I'd make you believe; make you forget."

"Wait, wait; let's start from the top. You sing that entire verse."

The crowd goes wild. A satin haired man threw his hands into the air, still clutching the winning football in his right hand. His team charged at him as the cheerleaders from his school hurried in their blue and gold outfits ran into the middle of the field, cheering and rubbing it in the faces of the other team.

It wouldn't matter how many times he led them to victory, he would always and forever gasp whenever he was lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates. Their cheers and congratulations from them echoed in his ears as they bounced him there and for a moment, he caught the eye of one of the cheerleaders.

Even with all the adrenaline in his system making his head go practically blank with nothing but the 'I did it again!' running through his head, he recognized those eyes. There was no way that he could ever forget them.

The footsteps echoing through the hallway told him exactly where the other students were. He didn't even have to look up from his book to know when to duck or when to sidestep someone. He'd done it enough times before that no one paid much attention to him as he did it. Most people didn't even know he went to school here, or if they did, they didn't know when he started, so he was used to the ignorance from them.

After all, when so much happens in so little time, you tend to not care about certain things. They all go over your head.

The brunette with dyed blond bangs leaned against the lockers, watching the bookworm worm his way through the crowd again. He was walking up towards him and he couldn't help but smirk as the other man shut the book with a slapping noise and raised his one eyebrow at him. He reached up and slammed his hand against the locker door, bouncing it so that it opened for him.

"That would be much more impressive if you didn't know my locker combination."

She adjusted the reading glasses on her nose for a moment before flipping the page in her textbook, continuing to read from the section. Her blonde hair shifted out of place and, ever the perfectionist, she tucked it back in without detour. She knew that as she read many of the men in her class ogled her, but, finally, she looked up at the end of it and caught the smile of the only person who really mattered.

It was easy enough to force herself not to blush. That wouldn't do; her blush would just make her cheeks seem sickly bright under her makeup.

Brown hair dyed a reddish-pink color hung in her eyes as she let out a breath and curtsied to the class, listening to them applaud. As she walked down off the makeshift stage, the teacher called another person up to do their performance. Her moment in the spotlight was over, but another beacon would soon light and fix itself upon her, she knew. It was all a matter of tims and whether or not her friends were ready to come out and perform with her. Patience is a virtue, and it was one virtue she was well endowed with.

The ginger with a slight beer gut snorted and gulped down another handful of chips in the middle of the passing period. The digestion of the food would be the only thing that would keep him awake in the next class, he knew. So he grabbed the books he needed as he swallowed before grabbing another handful and stuffing his face with them. Sure, he wasn't supposed to be eating right now, but, hey, it was worth getting in trouble if it meant that he wouldn't be suspended for falling asleep.

The black haired man shifted uncomfortably and pushed back his glasses. The moments before debate started were always the most nerve wracking, even if he knew what he was doing. He could do this; he just didn't want to mess up in the beginning of the match.

Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind and nodded at the time keeper. He clicked the stop watch and the mousy man stepped away from the podium, gesturing with his hands. "You've all heard of radioactive energy, no doubt…"

He knew he could do it.

The proud man with eyes of emeralds behind sheets of museum glass smiled as he clapped his hand on the shoulder of the satin haired man. They laughed and laughed until they cried normally, but he could tell that his best friend was deep in his mind by the look in his eyes and the way he would politely thank anyone who commented on last Friday's game without really listening. Well, he was either deep in thought or needed to get laid. He suspected the former.

The mousy woman smiled shyly at him, holding her favorite book to her chest for a moment. He smiled back the same way until she paused and turned the book out, offering it to him. He took it, cautiously, and read the title. "Moby Dick?" She could feel her face heating up brighter than before as she nodded and tried to look innocent.

"I can finish this by Friday night. How about I drop it off at your house? Seven o'clock?"

She couldn't help but giggle and nod, feeling like she was going to faint. "O-Ok. I'd really like that."

"Thank you."

She watched him leave before jumping around, twirling in the air in excite. She'd finally gotten a date with him! The motion would have been better if her glasses hadn't slipped off her face right then and landed on the ground, nearly under her foot.

Crick. Crick. Crick.

The lug shifted into place and jerked to a stop, sending the message up her wrench and through her arm. She hissed gently from getting her finger caught between the wrench and the engine, but the pain passed as soon as she got the wrench off the lug and clapped her oil covered hands together, turning to face her beauty.

The car's engine glimmered, obviously happy to be clean of the oil build up and the leak from the sump pump. It was easy enough to fix, even more so because this was a car she would one day be recreating. Model T's were too hard to come by naturally and it was a miracle Central High had one in stock. So she would do the right thing and… no, no she did not steal the serial number off the radiator, what are you talking about? And where'd you get the proof of it? Huh!