Note: If you're wondering why I'm starting yet another story, when I haven't finished "Misadventures in Babysitting," I'm very sorry! It'll be up soon, I promise. This was written in response to "Love Sick," where Macy's fan-girlness seemed pushed too far. Now I want to explore the origins of Macy's obsession. Thank you suburbs for beta-ing – if there are errors, they're mine. This chapter has been through so many drafts I had to just post it finally--for better or worse.


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"to prejudge other men's notions before we have looked into them,

is not to show their darkness, but [our own]." --john locke

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Sometimes all Macy really wanted was to be left alone.

She didn't want to break anyone's heart, or look in the mirror and wonder who she was.

She didn't want her classmates staring at her. Or for Nick Lucas to see her cry. And she certainly didn't want Dr. Phelps to compliment her on the "progress she's made."

Especially since she knew she'd only replaced one kind of neurosis with another.

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three hours earlier

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Nick had exactly two things on his mind as he made his way to the office to drop off attendance—the Chem exam worth a third of his grade, and Julie, the girl who sat in front of him in lab. He didn't usually care much about grades (music was his passion, not school), but mom threatened to pull the plug on JONAS' summer tour if they didn't keep up a B average. So the pressure was on.

But sitting behind Julie—with her gold spun wavy hair and bright blue eyes—eased the pain a bit. And to help matters some, she was partnered with Stella. With his friend's help, he'd have Julie's number in no time.

Technically he should be able to get it on his own. But, unlike Joe, he wasn't that great at initiating relationships with girls. Maybe he could ask her for her notes or something. Or was that too obvious? He'd check with Stella, who had a sixth sense about these things.

Nick's phone vibrated in his pocket and he smirked at the text. According to the rumor mill Assistant Coach "Holly Hotness" would be substituting in for P.E. class.

Not a bad start to the day.

Uh-oh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Macy Misa coming down the hallway. With two quick steps he was hiding under a staircase, attendance folder in hand. It didn't look like she was carrying anything lethal, but with Macy you never knew. He didn't need to worry this time. She was heading to the Nurse's office.

"Hi there! I'm here to pick up a note."

The Nurse shuffled through papers on her desk. "Ah, yes. Dr. Phelps says this will get you out of swimming. He arranged to have you join third period P.E. for today instead. They're getting a tour of the pool for orientation and then it's a free period."

Nick winced. Third period was his class. Which meant Macy would be in P.E. with him. Not a good sign. He loved the JONAS fans as much as anybody, but sometimes the antics of their superfan scared him. Ok, a lot of times they scared him.

Nick didn't do well with anything that contradicted his own understanding of how the world should work. And Macy definitely fell into that category. See, liking Jonas was a compliment. Obsessively loving it to the point of crazy—not so much.

But then Joe said Nick judged people too harshly. He could be right… But probably wasn't.

Nick had yet to be proven wrong, so he figured it was safe to say his take on the universe was fairly spot-on.

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o

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In the back of her mind, Macy knew it was a bad idea to approach Stella while she talked to Nick. But even though logic suggested she wait, the opportunity to be within proximity of a Lucas boy was too hard for Macy to resist sometimes.

Especially on bad days, when everything felt prolonged and miserable. If she needed something to lift her spirits, JONAS usually did the trick. Seeing JONAS in any form made her feel like a kid again; her anxiety melted away so that all that was left was a kind of euphoric high, everything else momentarily forgotten. Dr. Phelps said it was a form of escapism. And he was probably right. But Macy didn't care. What harm was there really? Other than to her pride.

She'd risk discovering new ways to embarrass herself if it meant experiencing a little of the happiness only her favorite band could provide.

She bounced up to Stella, leaning between an orange and beige locker door.

Stella smiled big but Nick's forehead creased when he saw her.

Macy let them continue their conversation without interrupting. She was content to stare shamelessly at Nick's profile.

He made every effort to avoid eye contact with her, focusing solely on Stella. "So you think she'd say yes? I'm not being too subtle?"

"Asking for notes from a girl who tried to take her nail polish off with the lab chemicals? I'm pretty sure she'll pick up on the fact that you're asking to spend time with her, not for help with homework. Then again…"

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're not being helpful."

"Sorry. I've got a monologue next period in Drama and it's all I can think about. Maybe Macy can help you."

Macy perked up, her eyelashes fluttering quickly and smiling even wider.

He looked at her finally, mumbling a "no thanks" before getting as far away as possible.

But even after he left, Macy couldn't help but shudder at the look he gave her. As though even the idea of asking her for help seemed utterly preposterous.

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o

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The swim team had the pool today, so there was a row of students in suits and bathing caps lined up to use the diving board. Every forty-five seconds, like clockwork, he could hear the vibration of the board and the muffled splash that follows a really good dive.

Nick's P.E. class, consisting mostly of sophomore boys, hovered awkwardly around the pool—waiting for Holly "Hotness" to finish roll call. She shot Macy an evil glare.

"I don't see you on the roster here, Ms. Misa."

Macy handed her note forward. "I'm just here for the day."

She looked at the paper casually then tossed it aside. "You always were one for excuses."

Ouch. Nick thought that was kind of harsh. But Macy didn't say anything.

Randolph Something-Or-Other watched them from the lifeguard post and waved hesitantly at Macy. She smiled back.

Coach Holly noticed the exchange and called him over. "Randolph, come here for a second."

He climbed down and sauntered over with another look in Macy's direction. Did he have a thing for her or something? Nick wasn't sure.

"Randolph, I left my clipboard in the gym. Go and get it for me, will you?"

"Uh, I'm on duty right now. Can someone else get it?"

Holly smirked. "I think the three-time swimming champions can survive without you for a minute. But I promise we'll call you over to perform mouth-to-mouth if the need arises."

Some of the boys snickered and Randolph looked down.

Nick frowned.

Macy stared after Randolph as he left for the gym. "Ms. Holly, there's supposed to be a lifeguard on duty whenever someone's in the pool. Coach's rule."

"I'm surprised you of all people would have something to say about following rules, Ms. Misa." She said it with a laugh, though her tone was laced with derision.

Macy glued her eyes to the water, choosing not to answer.

Nick's curiosity got the best of him and he asked the jock behind him what all of it was about. The guy seemed like someone who would know the athletic gossip.

The jock lowered his voice. "Macy quit the swim team last year, a week before championships. You're not allowed to pull out of a competition with so little notice, but Coach Coleman and the officials let her off the hook. The team got creamed—lowest scores ever. Hot Holly still holds it against her."

Nick could understand being upset about losing. He was a very competitive person and found losing a pretty miserable experience--especially if it was because someone didn't live up to their commitment. In all honesty, Nick preferred individual sports. Depending on anyone one but himself was a challenge, and he already had enough of that being in a band.

Still, watching Macy blink back an emotion he couldn't recognize—before turning away again quickly—he felt bad for her.

Holly removed her sweatshirt, revealing a tight fitting track suit, and proceeded to demonstrate proper stroke techniques to the class. Most of the boys tried to nod their heads in understanding, even while ogling her. Nick wasn't sure why covering swimming strokes was even necessary, since they weren't scheduled to swim today. Could it be that she just liked the attention? Because that's pretty sad. Even if she does have nice arms.

Nick tilted his head, still trying to figure out what the coach's deal was when his brain registered a hallow THUD sound. And a SPLASH just beside him.

He looked over and Macy was gone.

She'd jumped in the pool?!

He noticed a red scarf floating in the water and wondered if she was diving in to get it? That's kind of random, even for Macy.

Wait. His brain began registering what was happening. That's not a scarf. Its blood!

In those seconds, the entire pool area quieted to an eerily silence before all hell broke loose. Macy broke the surface of the water, gasping for breath—a girl in her arms. Nick had no idea who she was—her skin looked deathly pale and the blue swimming cap had come off so strings of blood-matted blond hair covered her neck. They say head wounds bleed the worst.

Nick hadn't moved. Had anyone? Was this what shock feels like? As though your feet are cemented to the ground and all you can do is watch while everything swooshes past in slow motion?

The gym door flew open. Randolph ran towards the injured girl with Coach Coleman right behind him, yelling obscenities.

Macy had finally pulled the body, erm, girl from the pool. Why hadn't anyone helped her? Idiot, why hadn't you helped her?

The realization made Nick step forward, even if all he wanted to do was back away, blending into the crowd. Stepping forward made the slow-mo world disappear, but he could barely register the chaos around him—the screaming and shuffling of feet.

Coach knelt beside the girl, shaking her shoulders. Nothing.

Randolph pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around her head, and Macy tried to put pressure on the wound, her hand pressing against the fabric. But Nick could see her rocking back-and-forth.

He stepped closer, not sure why. She was so upset—and why shouldn't she be—covered in blood, trying to resuscitate a girl who'd drowned in front of her. But Nick could tell there was more wrong than the obvious. Even while Macy knelt over the girl, he could see her crying. Sobbing, really. She was terrified.

Jumping in that water had been the last thing she wanted to do, but she'd done it anyway. While everyone else stood on the sidelines, watching. Like some twisted reality TV show.

Coach noticed him standing there, utterly immobile. "Nick, call 9-1-1. Tell them to send an ambulance ASAP!"

Nick complied, fumbling for his phone, relieved to have something to do.

Coach Coleman looked at Randolph. "Check the airway."

Randolph tilted the girls head back and peered down her throat. "It's clear."

Coach pressed down on the girl's chest with laced-together fists.

Nothing.

Randolph leaned in, placing his cheek against her mouth to feel for breath. He moved again, taking in air and blowing it into her mouth. Nick couldn't turn away. He watched as Randolph's mouth cover the girl's –once, twice, and then again—desperately trying to pump air back into her lungs. What was it Holly had said? "We'll call you in to do mouth-to-mouth if the need arises?"

Wow, does irony bite.

And then, the most pleasantly grotesque sound he could imagine--the girl spitting up water, gasping. She was breathing!

But her head wound still bled something fierce so Coach directed Randolph to take her to meet the paramedics when they came.

Coach approached Macy, her wet blouse tie-dyed with red splotches. She looked at her hands, covered in blood, and started shaking all over again. She wrung her hands together in what looked like a feeble attempt to get the blood off of her. Or was it the water?

Nick wanted to help but didn't know how. Or if it was right to try. He felt utterly lost.

Fortunately, Coach Coleman took care of things. He wrapped her in a bear hug, his black hands cradling her head. "You did good, Misa. Real good."

She cried softly into his shoulder. "I can't go in the water, Sir."

"I know. But you did. Heroes do what they have to, even when they're afraid."

She scoffed under her breath and shook her head. "I'm not a hero."

Coach disagreed but there was no convincing her. Nick caught his gaze, suddenly feeling like an intruder on a very private moment. But Coach just motioned him closer. "Nick, take Macy to Dr. Phelps' office, will you?"

She looked at Coach briefly, her eyes widening in a look Nick knew said 'No --anyone but him.' But Coach ignored it.

Leaving Nick the one feeling nervous and sick.