Vince

Ugh, idiot...

I was waiting. It was my fault. Dad told us to stay inside, but I couldn't stop him. I was slow. I shouldn't have been slow.

The thing crashed into our ranch, luckily with no explosion in tow. I'm sure Drew would have discovered it the next morning and done something stupid still. Maybe. Big 'maybe'. No, I was here. I was in the now. Right now, all I had to distract myself from the thoughts were the on-and-off sounds of the old man across from me coughing up something of a storm.

The buzzing lights cast heavy shadows in the spaces they couldn't reach. It infected me. It infected my mom, paranoid. She was sitting beside me, a look of sheer disbelief in her hazel eyes. She was frozen, until the large doors to the back rooms swung open. An older man dressed in a white coat, decorated with prestige and without a single wrinkle (along with some other devices I couldn't name) entered the room, one hand against the door, the other as occupied as the eyes behind his glasses, reading over the papers. My mother stood up, now facing this man. He was tall, white-haired, and wore an inscrutable expression.

"Anne," said the coated old man. "I think you need to come and see this for yourself. I am not sure what else to say. Please, come this way."

With that, the elderly doctor faced away from the lobby, my mother following soon after him. One hand was secured over her mouth. The other had tapped me on the shoulder. I assumed that meant I was to stay close behind. I was about to see my little brother again.

Had he just slipped into a coma on contact with the thing? I mean, that was what it looked like. It made no sense, but I guess we were lucky the rock didn't hit him on the head. It would've been worse if the thing had engulfed our town in an eruption. While that was an impossibility of the past, I couldn't help but have grim thoughts racing through my head like a swarm of jets. The sooner we got through these lifeless, white corridors, the sooner I could take a seat again, rest myself, and find some reason within the madness.

The doctor held a door open for the two of us. I gave him a silent smile of thanks, whilst my mom's hand was still over her mouth. Her focus froze upon the classic hospital arrangement of gurneys and machines, cabinets and biohazard waste bins. A fancy heart rate monitor was beeping. There were about half a dozen mechanisms in the room that I didn't care about, three beds, curtains showing them in plain sight. I stopped at one side of my brother's hospital bed, my mother the opposite side. The doctor loomed over me from behind. All three of us were speechless, examining my unconscious, little brother. His face was pale like chalk, naked without his glasses, and he looked cold. His golden hair was crisp, like ice had formed on it, its sheen dying. The doctor spoke before too long.

"Above the counter here is a screen showing his brainwave activity," the man briefed, pointing us in the desired direction.

I had no idea what that device was. It wasn't a CT scanner. Those were outdated. I didn't even know that kind of thing existed in these rooms, but I assumed technology was still advancing. I was a suburban kid. A lot of that eluded me.

"We don't normally use this machine for medical pursuits in this facility, but I've warranted it for this case," he paused, mouth open as if to continue.

I glanced over to Mom, her face flushed with concern, albeit directed at the machine in question, as if equally worried about it. I heard a sigh escape the doctor's nose.

"It can wire up to multiple 'patients', and it is operating optimally. As you can see, there are two lines, yet only one patient in this room," he paused, pointing out the two distinct lines making their way haphazardly across the screen. "And that is impossible. The existence of a second line suggests he has a second brain."

A quick moment of incredulous looks separated us from truth and fiction. I was glancing back and forth between the brainwaves, my brother, and the other empty beds. A second brain, I thought. How? Where?

"Based on the activity of his second brain, if it is there," the doctor paused once more, pointing at the lower, more disarrayed green line on the screen. "Electrochemical waves are attempting to alter his cognition. He is surviving, but his vitals are at risk of, well, a number of things you would rather not hear, I assume. I have never quite seen this in my career or life."

I could tell my mother was skeptical, while I myself was more unnerved by the doctor's intrigue. Mom was not an easy woman easy to fool. And the idea of a second brain was ludicrous. She shook her head, giving the doctor a sort of 'are you insane?' look

"Oh, c'mon now, Sam," she huffed. "You're honestly suggesting he is growing another brain?"

"I am. As you can see, the upper wave is stable, while the lower is fluctuating. Either way, the amount of electrical waves inside your son's body have locked him into a state of uncertain comatose. If this continues, we are going to require your decision: Do you want us to put Drew on life support, or would you like us to give him some more time?"

"I just... Anything. Anything to keep my boy alive." Mom answered, frustrated, giving it no thought.

She wanted – no, needed him to live. I needed it, too, but was this torture for him? What if he was stuck in some sort of nightmare? What if he was begging to just escape? Was that naive of me to think?

I... yawned. It was almost midnight. I hadn't slept, and, as a busy teenaged farm boy, I wasn't the most responsible sleeper in any case. Though, I felt bad. I didn't want to look like I was bored. I wasn't. I was terrified.

It was a hard night. I had absolutely zero hours, zero minutes, and maybe five seconds of sleep. I stayed at the hospital. I watched my little brother, holding his hand as he was hooked up to all sorts of machines. I watched over him without budging, with some fantasy running through my head, mocking me with the falsehood of his awakening.

I went to the bathroom three or four times. Couldn't remember. I had to splash my face with the freezing water just to keep my eyes open. More than halfway, at that. Each time I returned to that room, I was so expecting Drew to be sitting up, a dumb look plastered on his face. He'd've seen me walk in and holler my name before asking me where he was and what was going on. Maybe it was silly to someone else, but the thought of it was beautiful. And that made it worse.

I stopped paying attention to the time after I made out a bit of blue in the sky. I knew it was about five in the morning or something. I wasn't sure when the sun started rising, but I had a vague feeling it was around that time. It didn't matter. The only thing I wanted to see rise was my brother, all up and worried about why he wasn't in his bed at home.

Fingers pressing into heavy eyes, I sighed. What made this worse was that, as soon as I got home, I would have had to help Dad with the farm. Us farm kids were supposed to wake up early - have flexible schedules 'n all that, but I didn't care enough. I slept in late on weekends, which made up for my huge loss of sleep on the weekdays. Stuff got busy for me, and a lot of pressure came with that, save the weekends. No, strike that; weekends, too. I had projects for school. I had one coming up. It was due this Monday, and it was already Friday. Well, it was the worst Friday of my life. I was nowhere on that English project, and my brother was probably going to be killed. If I wasn't so involved with cross-country, I imagined I would've lost my shit long ago. Running calmed me down. I enjoyed jogging around the acres of our farmland with our welsh corgi Zig-Zag. Drew always tried to keep up with me. He tended to run out of stamina pretty fast. It was only because he wasn't trained like I was. I had years of breathing exercises under my belt, and that was great while running, but that didn't do well here in this lifeless room where I felt moments from worrying myself into hyperventilation.

Jeez, listen to me... It's like I have all the problems in the world. What a dumb kid you are, Vince. Dumb kid.

I'm so sorry, Drew. Little Edge.

I hope you're having a sweet dream. You know, maybe us laying in the hammocks near one another and watching the stars roll on in the black, velvet sky.

Or the clouds up there.

Or maybe you're too distracted with Pokémon. Would it kill you to put that game down for once and help out with the farm work? Maybe I shouldn't ask questions like that.

I don't get the game, but I guess Pokémon's a simple enough concept. He needs to play those games. I don't care how childish those games are. I would play it with him if I could. I just... I don't have time, bud. I don't got the time.

I need... time...

If I could go back and play with you, little Edge, I would do it.

...

Sure enough, having been driven home by Mom, I was asked to do one little task around the farm, which evolved into two tasks, and then so on. I honestly didn't care that I was tired. I was too distracted. I could only get so tired and so hurt thinking about... well, Drew.

The tasks involved the usual Friday routine: cleaning up the horse crap and making sure all of the animals had food and water. I cleaned stuff. I refilled stuff. They had their stuff. I didn't. I wanted to collapse in bed and do nothing. I was seething, grunting just to get myself from one motion to the next. I noticed myself slow down, grunts turning to quiet, meek breaths. I was all by myself out here.

It wasn't good enough. I needed my little bud.

Hope at an impasse, I flailed one arm angrily and abandoned my duty. I ignored whatever command my father might've bellowed, walking briskly into our house and beelining for the second floor, footfalls loud on the hollow wooden stairwell. I averted my attention from my brother's room, raised a leg and pushed the door closed behind me, then fell to my knees in front of my bed, my face planted firmly into the messy, unmade covers with a loud puff. Those were my plans for the weekend.

I didn't expect anyone to come in and comfort me. My mother didn't to speak to me. Dad barely looked me in the eyes. Oh yeah, and the rock. I saw that stupid rock. No one touched it. The animals stayed clear. Still, it was there. It just sat there.

It ruined my little brother, and it got to stay. Like, what...? To think that, one week ago, I was laughing. Yesterday, I was laughing. Earlier today, I was laughing. Now, I was half-suffocating myself in my own sheets.

Cruce

I yawned wide, nothing short of daily badinage inhaled. Accidentally, may I add. Noisy chums, they were. 'S not to be confused with any hard feelings. I loved 'em all. They were my buds and we were all one big happy, crazy family.

I was sitting on the dirty ground with dirty jeans and my back against a crumbling dirty wall. On the other side of that wall was a locker room for dudes. In front of me was the gymnasium. All around me were folks I knew who happened to go to the same high school as me. What's more, they were all part of my being, my upbringing as a student here at Metedia High, some of 'em going back earlier than that. Sophomores, all of us, tryin' to make it here at a place nice and quiet, full 'o rigor at all the right stops. Classes were bitches, projects were due soon, and all the work just didn't fit into my line of interest. I was busy with other things, y'know? The fun things. The things that made us happy and cozy. All that.

I threw my arms up, giving them a brief stretch, before setting 'em nice and comfy behind my head so that I didn't have to rest my scalp against the flaking wall. My knuckles were better suited for that. The rest of me was sturdy as well, but whatever; I hated bragging. I didn't get that way by sitting on loose gravel my whole life. I was the classic karate kid; a dude who loved martial arts, sport, and hey, even a bit of writing. Sounded crazy, sure, but I was a member of this little team of heroes that called themselves the Circle, and we were all writers in our own way. Wonder how they got that name. Ah yeah. Tophs gave it to us. Little cuzzy here.

I faced the girly boy. He was sitting to the left of me as always, his legs crossed with his lunch bag in his lap, picking from a bag of sugar-coated strawberries and nommin' away. Ya were what'cha ate. Little strawberry boy here was a couple clicks of estrogen short of being a chick. His hair was sunny bright, all fresh and soft, ponytail trickling down his back like liquid. Real cute face: sky eyes and flowery cheeks, make-up makin' him all pretty—guyliner I guess. Loved to wear his bangs over a good portion of his face. Kinda like me, but hey, I was just too lazy to get it cut. Tophs was a bit of a cross-dresser who pulled it off a lot better than anyone. Just sayin'. Today, his choice of girly garbs was a nice pink spaghetti strap top with this cloudy fuzz on the breast-line. Whatever it was called; I wasn't the clothes expert. Cuzzy was all silky arms, bracelets, and manicured hands and nonsense, what with the tight cut-offs and the frilly flip-flops. Tophs was a summer. Still loved the cold, too. And showing off. The guy had thighs like a supermodel. Nice chest, too. Actually put some girls here at Metedia to shame. I'unno how he managed it, but he did.

Then here I was with my abs and my shoulders and my scraggy-ass punk face. Yeah, I didn't really look like Topher. I was a little bigger. Now I wasn't beefcake or anything, and I'd no interest in that whole thing. I wasn't shooting for macho thunder from down under. I just needed a bit of muscle to protect what mattered. Corny bullshit. Plus I was hard on myself; it was the perfect storm for long days of sweat and iron. The folks always teased me; they said that it'd probably be healthy if I left a bit of muscle for my head. Even Al, our local rugby star, had the balls to agree, while the guy was practicing daily, probably droppin' to his knees in wet grass up there at the field. He was standing around with my pal Nick, lookin' all swag in his letterman's jacket, clean brushed blond hair and a golden glint of victory and confidence all up in his eyes—God DAMN the guy was good with the womens. He was big walk and jock here at Metedia. Real electric personality. Thankfully, he was here at home with us in the Circle.

Nicky Wright over there was a shady, tall fella who dressed pretty well on occasion, and poorly other days – I'd known the guy for ages and I'd still not been able to figure out the pattern behind his mode of dress. Today, he was lookin' real snazz-tastic. He had his good 'ol black fedora and a polo shirt gray as the autumn overcast. He had the haze about his face to match it. Them dark hazel eyes all hidin' behind his glasses – Nick was a mystery and a half. I wasn't even sure about his ethnic background – was he Asian? Middle East descent? I didn't know. Didn't matter; I liked 'im. Smart guy. Little condescending around the edges, but clever.

We had the girls with us today. Pat and Emi were here chattin' away about stuff on Facebook and outfits that Topher would look cute in, I guess. Yeah, only one of 'em was at all super girly and that was our cheerleader Emelina, a recent participant in the Circle's home affairs. I swear, that girl was a bouncy one. She had the energy of a freakin' actual wildfire. It wasn't that she was, like, hyperactive, it's just I couldn't picture her sleeping. 'Scuse me if that seemed perverted, maybe, but Emi was a living, breathing firework. She had the work ethic of a disciple... with a good work ethic... Er, yeah, Wit was never not my thing. But her? She was sharp, too, that girl. Dressed real sweet as well. Lot like Tophs, 'cept different body parts. Or something.

Then ya had Patty Pat. Light and dark, day and night, up and down—all those antonymous analogies. Pat and Emi? BFFs, man, but they were like polar opposites. Patricia was only talkative around either the Circle or Emi alone. She loved laughing with us, but holy crap, she was a mouse on her own. You could see it in her face. She was like the shiest living thing, yet she found her way to someone as preppy as Emelina. She was a formal girl. Very polite, covered herself up with a blouse and a sweater, long jeans. Nice accent too. Straight from Australia. Was always nice to hear her speak. We encouraged her to get more out there; she couldn't sit inside and write stories forever. But damn, could she write. Literary prodigy over here.

Last and probably least – nah, I kid – Bryan. Frenchie, we called him. No reason behind it, but he didn't make a lot of sense either way. This was the guy who made the Circle groan daily, all with his crazy-ass jumpy personality and his 'tag-you're-it' demeanor. Still, we tolerated him. Naaaaah, in all truth, we wouldn't have been the Circle without Frenchie. He was a good fella at heart: generous, helpful, and pretty good at basketball. That was his realm, and it was there in his scarred knees. Well, he was a skinny sucker. All bones. Wore loose Ts and shorts every day, no matter how cold it was. Actually, Frenchie and I had a lot in common. We both had a thing for comics, which is what he and his buddy Kieran liked to work on in their spare time. Same was true for Tophs and I. All about them comics. I let the cuzzy do most of the creative work.

...

"Nope. Not started yet," Topher tweeted, a little puff of rosy, honey-scented perfume rolling into my nose. He was looking right at me, so I figured I was being talked about. "You haven't started yet, have you?"

"Probably not," I ventured. Sure, I didn't know the topic, but I knew how to answer. I could hear the smile in Topher's voice anyway. "What though? What're we talking about here? I zoned out."

"The thingy with the English." he chirped back. Now I was catchin' on. Yep, that. See, we had this project for English, and it was due soon, and I didn't start yet. End of story. How about that? Ah, the academic life.

"Yeah, no, that's nowhere." I said, shrugging my shoulders. Apathy in its prime.

"That's due like tomorrow." he whined. Exaggerated, too; tomorrow was Saturday.

"It's okay, you still have a few days," Emi joined in, likely having started the conversation. She did that. Reminded us of assignments. Yeah. It was really bothersome, but we probably needed it. I knew I did. "At least, I think so? I have a different professor than you guys, so I don't know."

"The science fiction fantasy story thing?" I inquired.

"Uh-huh. I'm doing a story that I read over summer." she said, looking real proud. Must've been nice to be prepared.

"Sooooo, how 'bout that? I didn't read nothin'." I huffed.

"Doesn't Ashy write a story? You can report on that, can't'cha?" she cooed.

"Oh noooo; he can't though," Tophs jumped in, literally speaking, throwing his hands on my leg and leaning himself onto my lap. "Please no?"

"'S not a bad call. That IS fantasy, and the comics are pretty good, dude." I teased; of course I wasn't actually gonna do a full whatever-page report on Topher's cute comic fairytale about saving the universe and all that, even if it was actually well written and drawn.

"Nah-ah, they're sucky and kiddy and pleeeeease no?" he asked—no, begged. Freakin'... his face, I swear. He gave me a nose-to-nose puppy-eyed stare-down and it was the worst thing ever. "I'll kiss you if you do it."

And then it became even worse.

"Alright, can that not happen?" I scrambled back a bit until the back of my head was touching the wall behind me, and, even then, it wasn't enough to escape the explosion of cuteness that my vocabulary tripped over.

"Oh my God, do it." Emi urged, which sucked because Topher loved it when she fangirled; it was like feedback – just this endless loop. What made matters worse is that Pat joined in.

"I need a picture please!" Pat exclaimed – didn't hear her exclaim all that much, so that was worth it.

"Okay, wait," I gulped, looking into the eyes of cute death. "So if – and this is hypothetical – if I end up doing the report on the comic, what exactly is my punishment? If I can call it that."

"Biiiiig smooch right on the lips. Ten seconds! No exceptions!" Cuzzy giggled, disturbingly comfortable with the whole thing.

Right, so this was the sort of thing that he couldn't get enough of. He loved it when my face turned red and my eyes got all shifty. This was always his gag, too. It was like the dude was programmed to embarrass me and I couldn't get away from it. I almost liked falling into it now. So, okay, I wasn't gay, and, yeah, I wasn't the first guy to admit that Tophs was a good lookin' human being. But fuck me front and center if I was up for frenching him! No thanks; I was stickin' to the real ladies for now.

"Alright, Tophs, just—could ya maybe dismount me?" I asked.

"Dismount~," he laughed with all the triumph in the world. I didn't get what was so funny; it was probably the word choice that tickled him. Well, it worked in my favor, because he rolled right off of me and oriented himself with his soft little head on my shoulder, giggling away. "There. Happy now?"

"Tch," someone scoffed. Sounded like our jock. I looked over to Al, and yeah, there he was with his hardass buzz cut, lookin' over at us like we were lesser creatures. "This guy's a mush."

"I'ma plush~!" Tophs came back, closing his eyes tightly and grinning. He took so much comfort in this.

"'Guess you're having fun. Good stuff. Cruce, you havin' fun?" Al mused, arms all crossed like he was better than snuggles. "Doin' alright." I answered with an indifferent shrug.

"Cruce is queeeeeeeeeee-" Frenchie started, before promply being flicked in the ear by our silent giant, Nick. "NNH!"

It was the kind of noise Frenchie would make.

"Cruce is queen~?" Tophs sang.

"A most lovely queen!" Pat encouraged. I shook my head.

"Fuckin' ugly queen." Al dismissed.

"Why am I the queen?" I asked. "Literally four people here are better suited than me."

"Emelina, Patsy, Topher..." Frenchie counted on his fingers. "Who's the fourth?

"Nick." I answered.

"Okay." Nick suddenly agreed.

"Eeehh..." Emelina shrugged in disagreement.

"I could get behind that. He's better with politics than any of us. Aren't you?" I looked at him.

"Do I really strike you as a political guy?" he asked me.

"Well, you've got like... money! You're-"

"Money doesn't make me good with politics...?" he cut me off.

"Liar." Al broke in.

"Money makes the world go 'round~." Emi said.

"Nick makes the world go around!" Topher added.

"AND THUS, 'queen'!" I concluded. He didn't appear amused – in fact, he looked more bothered by the logic we'd used rather than being called a queen at all.

"What about the part where I'm male?" he asked coyly.

"PSSHH, we need more girls in the Circle. Get a sex change." Emelina commanded.

"That's... expensive?" he defended.

"But'cha got the money, so there you go – problem solved, we get another lady. Closing the book on that chapter!" I grinned victoriously, watching for Nick's reaction. Getting played on by Tophs was a hierarchical experience. It started with me, then I passed it to Nick, and he, well, let it disappear, I guess.

"Do your report on that." Pat suggested. I laughed.

"Yeah, and emphasize how, in the end, it was all a dream, because none of it happened." Nick nodded, gesturing to himself – namely, his masculinity. Y'know, down south.

"He's talking about his nuts." Frenchie clarified. Thanks, Frenchie.

"Nuts are gross..." Patty said.

Welp, that summed up my day.

At least everyone was in a good mood. No one was upset over how unfair their parents were or how depressed they were or whatever it was. It was a drama-free day in the life of 'ol Crucie. I wasn't the type of person to make it all awkward and say how happy I felt aloud. I kept that inside.

Good day, this one. Real good one – not one for the books, but one to look back on say, 'hey, fam, that was a good time'. Actually, it wouldn't have been whole without a certain someone involved. I thought of a friend, a term probably best used quietly around her. I had to smile when I pictured her face. She always seemed like she wanted to punch things. She made it a hobby and habit. So I started doing it with her one day, and hey, we became friends.

I wrapped an arm around Topher's body, patting his far shoulder. He squeaked and looked at me.

"'Sup. Gonna head over to see Kat." I told him.

"Kat's here?" he queried.

I didn't get the confusion. 'Course she was here; she was a student, too. But maybe the alarm came from my initiative. I didn't voluntarily bring myself over there all that often. Kat was a reclusive girl after all. Well, we still made some room for each other, and, hey, I figured if anyone could knock any random sentimentality right out of me, it was her. I gave Tophs another pat before inching my shoulder forward, pushing his head from me – not forcefully, just to give him a quick heads up.

"Yeah. Haven't seen her in a while," I said, one palm aiding me to my feet. The small gravel rocks buried into it, stinging briefly. I wiped both hands on my hoodie and the pebbles fell. "I'll be back before the bell."

"Noooo, you can't leave me with them! They'll eat meeee..." Topher complained, holding that last vowel for a good two seconds. He pouted, shoving his lower lip forward and grasping one of my wrist with both hands.

"Can't you talk to Zatch or something? I mean he's right there." I smirked, pointing over to Zack's crew. Ah, yeah, them. Friendly guys!

"Zatch and I aren't a thing anymore though." he whined, letting go of my wrist.

"I know. 'S all good. I'll be right back," I reminded him, patting his head and messing up his hair, causing another four seconds of vowel sounds. It was great. "And let 'em know where I'm at if they start freaking out." I instructed, before heading on over yonder to our bros.

The other guys here were all real tight. These two Seniors and two Sophomores liked to hang out with us at lunch every now and then. They weren't really a part of the Circle, but we hung out long enough for us to start talking. They liked to call 'emselves the Square as a sorta gag on how there were four of them and how they thought the Circle was silly. I didn't blame 'em; who named their clique of buddies? Topher, that was who.

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" I greeted them, assigning fist bumps wherever appropriate. First was Zatch, since I knew him alright from the little curiosity he and Tophs shared for a few weeks.

"Hey man, how's it going?" Zatch asked, all laid back like usual. That was a big thing with these four. They all sounded like stoners, I guess except Zack, who always had a nice haircut, a leather jacket, and the cleanest face ever. Handsome Zack, I called 'im.

"I'm all good. Whassup with you fellas?" I asked no one in particular, even though I was still lookin' at Zatch. He was a pretty nice person all around. He didn't look a whole lot like his brother. Brighter hair and eyes with a younger face. Still round, whereas his bro's was all squared off and mature. They didn't dress the same either. Zatch looked a little like Bryan, wearing old T's and cargo shorts.

"Just chillin'. Hey, you got any idea for that project?" another of them replied. That was Vince.

Vince was in that English class with the lot of us, and I'd known him before Metedia. I couldn't remember what his deal was—he was a farmer kid or something. I saw him running around the woodland at times. He was a cross-country runner all the same, so it made sense. I don't know. How did cross-country work here?

"Uh, well maybe. I just got an idea for it, but eh. You have somethin'?"

"Dude, I haven't started on it! I don't have time to," Vince started. "Yeah like, every time I sit down to think about what I want to do, I get called to help Drew with the farm work."

"What project is this?" Zack asked.

"It's the science fiction fantasy one for English where you gotta read a book and do a report on how it fits literature or something." Vince answered.

"Oh. Y'know, you don't have to actually read a book, right?" Zack carried on. I tuned in. He'd done the thing before, so I'd have gathered he was a source of wisdom. "Yeah, ask your teacher. You can just pick a science fiction-related thing or fantasy-related theme and explain how it could be considered literature."

"That's how I passed it." the other Senior finally spoke up. I barely ever heard the guy talk, so it was weird hearing his voice. It was like Pat or Nick on a bad day, except it was every day with him. He was Danithan, the guy who was allergic to the, like, sky. He wore shades twenty-four seven for all I knew. Not the kind of guy I would've gotten along with super well, but I couldn't be too bothered by it.

"Yeah, he got like a B and he didn't read anything. He just watched a documentary on something." Zack explained.

"Danny 'B'?" Zatch poked, elbowing the quiet Senior in the arm. Danny B – they called 'im that – shrugged.

"Oh shit, you don't have to read anything?" Vince muttered, breaking into a bewildered laugh. He beat me to it, really. We were probably sharing the same breath of relief.

I forced myself to break away from the conversation before I got stuck-in. Truth be told, I'd have liked to see Miss Kat today. I saw them off with a 'good day' as quickly as I'd barged into their lunch. It was too bad. Vince was someone I'd have enjoyed discussing ideas about the project with. Poor guy was up to his neck in work and sport that he didn't get the chance to get everything together.

I carried myself through the outdoor hallways of Metedia, trying not to bump into a slow walker in front of me or a group of students walking in a row of like six. It's not that the school was flooded with people; Metedia was actually kind of small. It was just that everyone knew each other and bumped into him or her sometime in the day, so there was rarely a rush to get anywhere to see someone. Ergo, my current scenario didn't really agree with the meta of Metedia, so to speak. Hey, the weather was all right and everyone seemed to be at their life high today, so as long as that remained true, I had nothing to complain about.

I passed one building, then another, and at last came to a stop at the corner of one of the math buildings. I put a hand over the corner of the building, peek around to see if anyone in particular was sitting by her lonesome on the sidewalk near that tiny grassy knoll that no one wanted to build classrooms on because it was pretty or whatever. Yeah, there she was, sittin' down with her legs stretched out before her, eating her fill.

I smirked all mischievous-like, planting myself right against the wall and shuffling over slowly, probably grabbing a few looks from the folks around, despite Katalyn having like a repulsive bubble. Eventually, I'd shuffled my way to her, standing about a foot from her. I was in the danger zone now.

"What do you want?" Kat hissed, not bothering to show me her vicious, pretty face.

"Easy tiger; it's just Cruce." I assured her, cautiously taking a seat next to the Senior. In the den of the lioness, now...

"I know," she answered, deciding it best to bring a curtain down on the cold shoulder.

She looked at me and smirked. Kat was a tough cookie, but she had looks. Her hair was short, black, hugging around her neck. Her eyes, hazel, almost feline. Her nose, a bit pointed down. Her lips were hard of smiling, but they still looked good when they weren't hiding behind that crimson wool scarf of hers. Nice accent to her pale skin and all. Always covered herself up in boots, jeans, and sweaters – today, a pink, slightly fleecy sweater, lavender stripes running along it.

"What do you want?" she repeated.

"Would you bite my face if I said I just came to see ya, Katty-" I flinched, because there was a hand smacking me in the arm before I could even finish the last word of that sentence. It wasn't geared to hurt me. She was doing it with a wide smile on her face.

"Come here." she urged, wiping her hands with a napkin, before tossing it onto her wrinkled lunch bag. She urged again with a gesture of her head. I obliged like an idiot! Yeah, she got me with that. She lurched right for my face. I went cross-eyed and saw her nose. I smelled peanut butter, then there was a brief sharp pressure in my nose. The pressure went away, and she leaned back a couple inches so I could actually see her whole face again.

"Ow?" I whispered, a hand over my nose. "You bite."

"I bite hard," she stated blankly. "But, for you, a little softer." she said, leaning in and planting a much softer, much more welcome kiss to my cheek.

"Holy crap," I murmured, shivering at the warm embrace of her lips. There was a puff of her breath against my skin, then she pulled back. I looked at her and she was still smiling. "Who are you and what've you done with Katalyn?"

"Not convinced?" she asked, before punching me in the shoulder. Her knuckle must've slammed right into a nerve, because it was a full-on dead-arm. I ground my teeth together and cursed.

"Aahkay, sure. Shit! Too much, Kat. Too much." I uttered, rubbing my shoulder.

"Want me to kiss that too?" she offered, and I was stupid enough to feel obligated to let her, given the warm fluttering in my chest from that earlier kiss. Well, I didn't say anything, but I sure didn't decline it. Instead, she leaned in and there was a sharp, wet pain right in the same damn spot.

"KAT, OW." I laughed, lifting my head. "You were so affectionate and it was amazing! What happened?!"

"What do you mean?" she smiled innocently – hey, there was a word I'd never thought to use around her.

"You're so mean." I pouted right at her, closing my eyes and sticking out my tongue.

"Careful. I'll bite that."

"Mm!" I quickly sealed my tongue away behind my lips and blushed.

Damn, woman, you were on fire today, weren't you? I wanted to say that to her, but I was afraid she'd freaking rape me. Nah, I kid. Kat and I were cool around each other. She was tomboyish and kickass and awesome and I loved her. We weren't really dating, but we had a close bond since a while back in our karate class. We took that real seriously, paying our due respects to our master and sparring regularly. Our idea of a date was a day of sparring in one of the old sewer outlets lost in the woodland. It was nice and quiet. Perfect place to spend some time with someone who wasn't all that hot with other folks.

"So what; your friends picking on you?" Kat inquired.

"Not for the most part. Uh, nah, just wanted to drop by and say howdy, sugar. 'Cause I wuuuuv youuuu."

"Ugh," Kat gagged, placing a fist to her mouth as if clearing her throat. "Don't do that; I just ate."

"Pbth," I scoffed, hoping like hell I didn't accidentally spit her way. "What, you don't like it when I say hi? Here, what if I did it like this?"

I demonstrated my hello by moving my hand right in front of her unamused face and waving it back and forth like some kind of crazy monkey. I actually waved fast enough for my shoulder to pop.

Then she went ahead and ninja-grabbed my wrist, squeezing her fingers into it.

"Am I dead now?" I asked in a silly, squeaky voice.

"Mmm," she hummed to herself, thinking real hard about my fate. "Nah. You got me protecting you. You won't be dead for another fifty years. Easy."

"Oh good, that's fifty years more than I thought I had." I grinned, then looked away, trying to get this blush off one way or another. I looked at Kat's wrist, noticing a reddish burn in the shadow of her sweater sleeve. She always had that.

Suddenly, she yanked me into her, horrifyingly stronger than me. I did some noise between a grunt and a gag. My left side became very warm. I was against the fuzz of her sweater and her scarf. I could smell her plum shampoo and the floral-scented chemicals from the detergent on her clothing. It was a treat, touching shoulders with Kat and being allowed to live.

I felt a bit embarrassed. She pulled me right over like I was a toy. That probably wasn't too far off from the truth.

"You're safe, kitten. I'm in a good mood today." she claimed. I sighed happily and nestled up to her, my shoulders sagging.

"Dude, you and Topher and I make like the best trio," I said, grinning, eyes closed. "We're kickass, then we're all like... 'ffection 'n shit."

"Oh yeah. Ashley. How's she doing? You guys still virgins?"

"Uh," I groaned, pulling up my hood over my entire face and keeping it that way, scooting a few inches away from Kat. "N-not so loud, yo."

"You had sex with her?" she asked again. My face went as red as it would with Tophs. I found a trend. 'Guess it went without saying that she and Tophs like seeing me red-faced.

"No, I... I didn't put my ding-dong inside of Tophs' dong-ding."

"Wouldn't that be the other way around?"

"My... dong-ding?"

"Sure."

"Can we stop talking about this?" I begged, crossing my arms.

"I think it's funny." she said, not even bothering to show any kind of hint of amusement. Straight-faced and sharp-edged.

"Yeah, incest is a funny thing, in't it? People always bug me about it. O-oh hey, if you switch around, uh... the letters of 'incest', you get 'insect'. Is that why people 'bug' me about it?! Eh?" I exclaimed, making a wide, open-mouthed smile, letting my tongue hang out.

She glared at me.

"Oh my God, you're... such a fucking dork, I... I'm speechless."

"Thanks." I bit my lip.

"Sssure. Look, Cruce, I don't care what you do with Ashley. You can go ahead and get kinky with her if you like. I won't judge you."

"Eh, nah, we're not like that." I shrugged. "Do people even care about incest anymore? It's almost 2025, yeah?"

Stupid question, I know.

"Mm," she grunted, like she always did when she couldn't be asked to make her voice nice and pretty. "By the way, if you tell anyone that I kissed you, I'll skin you and make a scarf out of your pelt."

"Hey, dye it the right color, or else it'll look like hell."

She laughed. That didn't happen very often, so I just sorta basked in it. She had a nice laugh. It wasn't overly cutesy or loud or annoying. It was genuine and clean, like it begged to escape her and charm others around her.

Kat could be charming if she wanted. She never wanted to though. I was so happy to have her as a friend, 'cause just about everyone else was anything but a friend to her. I didn't want to correct her or tell her that it was wrong to have so few friends, because that would've made me look like a jackass and I'm sure she would've had a few nasty things to say about it. We liked each other because we were comfortable together. I accepted her, respected her, and gave her distance. 'Nough said, really.

Still, I had a clingier personality than Katalyn. Just about anyone did. Mine was developed and nurtured because of my cousin. The three of us were real close, probably a little more so than the Circle. Yeah, I loved 'em, but Kat was special. She and Tophs and I were... a thing, y'know? There was the Circle, the Square, and hey, we were the Triangle, and all of them deserved to be told they were hella great, just in case something bad were to happen. Nothin' wrong with that; it was the most innocent thing on the planet.

The day went along. After the final bell for the afternoon, we were all free for the weekend. Most of us. I still had a pesky little project to bury myself in. It felt better knowing that Topher and Vince still had a ways to go before they were finished. I didn't wanna pride myself in their pity. For some reason, in this day and age, not writing some words down on paper based on a fantasy idea was pity.

It was somewhere around three thirty. Topher and I dropped by the woodland, backpacks still strapped over our shoulders, weighing us down with what it implied for later tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or Sunday night. Procrastination at its best.

Step after step on the dirt road underneath arches of red leaves, Topher enlightened me with his day, every little detail in each of his classes. I was a listener, with the occasional acknowledgment here and there. He told me about his ideas for his comic book and his interactions with peers. It was a nice little melody to make me forget my own dull day. A lot of the time, it left me with the desire to see the world through Topher's eyes. There was a lot more color for him to see, I was sure, to the point of makin' my world look all gray. I couldn't even imagine what the woods around us appeared to him as. For me, our woodland here was a realm of its own locked in a twilight inferno of leaves clouding the sky above, trees creating a series of autumnal tunnels. A river cut across woodland, meandering from the valley nearby.

The Autumnridge woodland was the heart of the Circle. It was our home. We explored it as children, wrote about it in our comics, and made it our usual spot to hang out. It had a nice surplus of surprises, like Native American monuments and ancient burial sites. That was to say that the woods was a scary place by night. For now, it was an escape. This escape brought us to a fork in the biker trail we had followed all the way here. We heard voices behind the trees. Tophs and I stopped at the fork and noticed that there were tracks in the mud; now, it wasn't a very inviting trail. It looked like the sorta path people weren't supposed to tread, with thickets and shrubbery in the way. But, beyond this crappy little mud trail was our hideout.

"Ladies first?" I instructed, giving a gentle squeeze to the cuzzy's back.

"Thank ya!" he cheered, hopping ahead and then taking the wet mud nice and slow. Tophs didn't even think twice about the comment. Kinda funny.

I bent my neck to the side, lowering my head underneath a branch above before stepping forward. The trail curved a full ninety degrees, and then again, before leading us right to one of the most bizarre spots in Autumnridge. It was a small clearing open to the sun and the sky, the trees symmetrical, standing around. Some crazy runic stuff etched into the slab long ago, but little exposure to the wind, they were still as fresh as though they were drawn yesterday. We never tried to decipher them.

This was the obsidian circle. We didn't know its real name or purpose, but we assumed it to be some former ceremonial area from the Natives that once lived here. There were twelve slabs of obsidian, so it could have been an early clock of sorts. Whatever the case, it served a very important purpose to the Circle.

Tophs and I entered the scene to five sets of eyes. The rest of our gang was here, all sitting on their stones. Al and Nick were right in front, closest to the entrance. Pat and Emi were near one another, and Frenchie was more along on his own, two slabs away from Nick.. This was where Tophs and I placed ourselves, letting our backpacks drop into the dirt, crunching leaves beneath. I was sitting beside Frenchie. I leaned closer to see what sort of bunk he was up to. He had a notebook out with a mechanical pencil. On the page, he was sketching a symbol that looked familiar. I turned to the granite slab in the center. The symbol from the page mirrored it.

I had a hard time trying to describe it. It was an isosceles triangle with smaller circles at each point. Around the triangle was an ellipse, and another ellipse around that. Outside of the ellipses, there were hundreds and hundreds of lines that looked like Sanskrit. I knew that wasn't really the case, but it was some ancient language that no one seemed to care enough about to translate or identify. Or maybe it was just a bunch of pretty shapes and scratches in a rock. We got into some discussions about the symbol from time to time, namely the triangle in the center. It was too perfect. Three were no errors. The lines were straight and the circles lacking any irregularity. Tophs found a way to incorporate the symbol into his comics, and I imagined Frenchie did, too. To me, it was nothing more than an old conversation tool.

Our get together was cut short. Al and Emelina had to bounce, and by extension, Pat. I knew Al had practice, and Emelina just liked to follow him around. It was frustrating to see Al flake out on us so many times. He never made it when we wanted to go bowling or tag along with the girls, Topher included, for hanging out at the mall. It was all good; he had stuff to do. Hell, we all did. I should've been doing my own part right now instead of sittin' around in a smelly 'ol enchanted forest.

Thirty minutes only gave us enough time to update Facebook, laugh about memes, and maybe discuss story slash project ideas for a fifth of the time we were there. It was the end of the week and people were tired. I could understand. I lifted myself from the slab, throwing my arms up and stretching, groaning loud. I checked my phone. It was five past four and I had all weekend to show this report who was in charge. Nope. Procrastination had a real greasy way of suckin' the inspiration right out of you.

...

Tophs and I walked home. We lived on a real quaint street called Orion Avenue. Nice place, lots of trees, friendly neighbors. Mama Janet and Pops Gibsy weren't home yet, so we helped ourselves inside and dropped our stuff off in our room. Cuzzy and I shared a room since the house was pretty cozy small, and he, well, wanted to because he was a creepy sumbitch. Nah, I kid. Well, fine, we did share a bed. But it was large enough for the two of us, EVEN THOUGH he thought it funny to close all the space we COULD have had and CONSTANTLY lay as close as possible to me. I couldn't be mad at him though. I mean, just... that face. Damn him and his face. Fuggin' cuddles.

The room was a surreal place. Half of it was magical, the other have muscly. Tophs had plush toys stacked up in one corner, and I had barbells in the other. He had his own desk for his works, and then we shared another with the desktop. Flat screen, bed, lamp, ceiling fan, closet. It was a bedroom. It did the job. I dropped right onto the bed and Topher sat himself down in his desk chair. Friday, baby. Screw it. It could all wait 'til tomorrow. It was time I got some real R 'n R. I shut my eyes and let my hands meet behind my head.

Huh. Kind of a horribly normal day, wasn't it?

Well, whatevs. Those are the best ones, right? Normal days? Biggest ops to let the world know you're a person.

I got it alright here in Autumnridge.

I oughta stop taking shit for granted, 'else I'll end up a spoiled manchild.

…