Amanda shivered as the unseasonable chill breeze blew in across the campus. Clad in her tennis gear, she stood apart from the other girls, in spirit if not in body. She watched as Shayne and Holly chatted excitedly about the forthcoming weekend and their plans: shopping, making up, and making out.

It was six weeks since the night of the party, the night of the date. The night she had helped to humiliate Hardy in front of everyone. She looked back on that evening in detail, feeling the fire that had built up through the events of that one night once more. The guilt at lying to her parents about not being with Hardy. The way that guilt turned to anger – at herself as much as at Keith. The slow journey from anger, through understanding, and finally to friendship. And to top it all, the showdown. The confrontation with Hardy at the party, where he had shown himself for the coward he really was, and she had shown the strength inside to stand up to him – something she still envied in Keith was the way that courage came instinctively to him.

Snatches of Shayne's voice drifted over – no doubt deliberately. Since that night, their relationship had been zero. No calls, no shared rides home, no chats in the dining hall, no messages pushed into her locker – nothing. The longer this went on, the lonelier Amanda became. She now realised that however superficial her life before was, however shallow and one-dimensional her friends were, at least they filled in time. Time was something that Amanda now had in abundance.

As the bell rang to indicate the end of this period, Amanda turned and trudged off back towards the changing rooms. Others were still talking in groups, about boys, tennis, music, boys, makeup, fashion, and boys. Only Amanda walked in silence.

Above her, sat at the back of the raised seating, Keith watched her walk off alone. For him as well, that night had changed everything. His changes had all been for the better, though. The acceptance of his friends, the reaction of the other students, when hearing about the events at Hardy's party. Word sure had spread quickly. Even the teachers, especially those that had been on the wrong side of Hardy Jenns before, had smiled and indicated with a nod that they knew, and they understood. He was now one of the few people at the school that could mix in almost any clique: the nerds looked up to him. the regular guys wanted to be him, the skinheads and rockers high-fived when they passed him. Even a few of Hardy's old followers had stopped by, to quietly share how they were glad to be out of the cycle of bowing to the Mighty Jenns.

Of course, the biggest change of all had been the stinging realization of his feelings towards Susan. It still amazed him that he could have known her for so long, without truly knowing the woman she was. How he could have looked at her for years before seeing the beautiful face, the smile that lit up not just her own face, but now his as well. He'd even started calling her by her first name now. As if there were two distinct people: Watts, the best friend and drum-obsessed tomboy, and Susan, his new best friend and first true love.

Keith reckoned that Susan had actually changed. She seemed much more relaxed now, and he could tell from the way he caught her looking at him, she felt the same way about him. For her, of course, it had been different. Her feelings for him had grown over years, from when she first reached the age where boys were no longer annoyances to ignore or avoid. All the thoughts, feelings and emotions that she had kept bottled up inside for years, she could now express. People were bound to change.

Which bought his thoughts back to Amanda.

He had seen her face as she walked away. So sad, so lonely. It was the kind of face he'd worn himself a few weeks ago. It bought a realization that he was, in part, responsible for her still. He'd been so wrapped up in himself, his new status, and with Susan, that he'd allowed other people's feelings to slip from his mind. Seeing her face, the face that he had etched into his memory and crafted so carefully onto canvas, so devoid of animation and laughter, hurt him deeply. He looked at her back until she turned the corner and disappeared from view. "Party's over," he thought to himself, "but the night's still dark."

He turned and walked slowly down the steps towards where the car, and Susan, would be waiting. What are we going to do?

Outside the front of the school, roof up and windows raised, Hardy Jenns sat in his car and waited. This in itself was a strange act. His usual style was to lean against the side of the gleaming black sports soft-top, shades on and hiding how his eyes scanned the locality for women – either ones he had or ones he desired. And what he desired, he got. At least, until recently.

Hardy had all but disappeared from view over the past month. Oh, he'd made his classes so that his grades didn't drop too much, but where he could get out of school, he'd done so. The reaction to Nelson's 'performance' at his party had shocked him – much more so than the event itself. He was Hardy Jenns, for Christ's sake! People liked him! So why, when the choice was to stand with him or alongside that pathetic, weak painter, had almost everyone deserted him?

It had taken a few days to realise that the attraction he had held for so many people was not himself, nor was it for his money, which at least he could have understood, if never respected. But did the level of power that his money gave him really elevate him so much that people surrounded him through fear? And fear of not being in the right crowd? Was his popularity purely down to people being afraid of the alternative? Well, Amanda Jones had blown that theory. She's shattered the myth that was Hardy's popularity and control with a power far greater than the force actually delivered when she'd slapped his face. And whilst the sharp pain quickly faded, the lasting feeling inside his gut remained strong and grew more painful.

But six weeks can give you lots of time to think. And Hardy had been thinking, and scheming. And now he had a plan. His eyes watched intently as Keith skipped down the school steps and walked off down the road to where the green Mini was parked. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and as his knuckles whitened, his determination to get his revenge was complete.

Keith barely registered that there was any other cars around. His eyes were fixed on the girl in front of him. Cut-off jeans reaching to mid-calf, black leather vest over white t-shirt, spiked bleach-blonde hair, glints of reflected light from smile and eyes. He was sure glad that the car was hers and not his, the way she was tapping away with the ever-present drumsticks on the hood.

"You're going to need a new paint job!" he called out to her.

Susan looked up and her smile became even wider as she saw his face.

"You could be right. That's why we're so good together, you being a painter and all!"