AN: I wasn't going to update this. But, apparently, when I am guilted enough I will do anything. I will make a point of not posting a chapter until the next one is written, so that I actually finish this story. (Keep in mind that it was started mid-season 3.) And for those of you asking me if M. is pregnant... You'll know when she knows!

Marissa wasn't used to covering up bruises with clothes or make-up. She was one of the few kind seniors who showed underclassmen how to get their lockers open and what bathrooms got cleaned when, but everyone knew she lived on the poor side of town and that she didn't take shit from anybody. The only people who would have messed with her didn't because she was Parker's best friend, and in high school, it doesn't matter whether or not you like the football players, you do not piss them off.

She kept layering on the tan liquid, but more than anything it just made her cuts itch. Screw it. She splashed water on her face and washed it all off. Everyone would have known anyway. What was the point of trying to pretend she hadn't been hurt? She sighed and walked to the couch. Bus brakes squealed outside, the steps squeaked, and Matt yelled good-bye through a card-boarded window.

Marissa's head began to ache dully in the morning silence. Mom left for her first job, then Matt's bus huffed and puffed its way to the elementary school. Wow, another year and he'll be starting middle school. When I start college, if I get a scholarship. In five minutes she had to leave to catch her bus, but she had five extra minutes today. Ten minutes of silence when what she needed was a distraction.

And she'd just returned the book her boss had recommended. Damn. She dug in her bag, grabbed an asprin and a water bottle. Pop, swig, gulp. She couldn't think of today. Didn't want to think about how many times she'd have to tell everyone.

Two days until she would know if the unthinkable had happened. What if it had? The three of them were barely getting by as is, and Marissa would have had to quit school to get a second job. She didn't have health insurance, either. She couldn't bring a child into her poor, white-trash world.

But God knows her chances to just get an abortion and forget the child's existence had ever darkened her thoughts were about as high as the chances that there would be a snowstorm in hell next week. It wasn't the baby's fault it's father hurt her. It didn't deserve to be destroyed because Marissa couldn't care for it.

So adoption. Give the baby away to someone else. A family that wasn't broken or struggling. Maybe even a family with a parent who didn't have to work. And hopefully a family that would let Marissa visit when she got out of this mess of poverty. That we she could make sure she gave the baby a better life than she'd had.

The low whistle of one the old hybrids got as loud as it could get and then silenced when the car stopped by the curb. Marissa grabbed her bag and books as she rose off the couch.

She forced the door open (it stuck when Matt shut it too hard), locked it behind her, wiggled and jiggled to get her key back from the lock, and attempted to make her smile look genuine before she turned around. After she settled in the front seat of the little egg-shaped car, she opened her mouth to share her plan, then shut it when she realized something was wrong. Parker's eyes were red-rimmed and he was pallid.

"Uh, are you trying to convince people that we're zombies? Because you look like shit."

He started the car back up and stifled a yawn as he made a U-turn that was probably not legal.

"I didn't sleep great."

"Uh-huh. That's my line, blondie."

"I had nightmares. I don't want to talk about it."

"Makes two of us. Quid pro quo, yes? I'll start." He shrugged. "I dreamed that I was re-shelving books at work, and when I turned around there was bloody pink satin all bundled up on the cart, but it rolled away from me and started wailing. Then the books started throwing themselves at me and I heard evil men laughing and woke up sweating and yelling."

She looked at him when she finished. He glanced at her. She raised an eyebrow. He looked at the road. She coughed.

"Okay, fine, Marissa! I was outside the hospital and I could see that the floor you were in was on fire but the nurse wouldn't believe me and the security guards wouldn't let me in."

"I'm sorry."

"We're here. Not your fault."

"Well, then don't get mad when I try to talk--" The bell cut her off.

"We're late for homeroom! C'mon, would you?"

---

Most of Marissa's day consisted of recounting something she would rather not have remembered and being stared at. For someone who ordinarily shied away from being anyway near center stage, this unwarranted attention on a day when she was really stressed was about to send Marissa over the edge. She grabbed fruit juice and a candy bar from the vending machines and darted out to the benches in the open courtyard.

And then guess who appeared with two trays and settled down next to her. What is he, a goddamn stalker?

"Marissa. You are under a lot of stress right now. Candy is not going to help you keep up your strength. Eat your lunch." He set the tray of gushy public school reconstituted goop in her lap. And stole her candy.

"Give it back, you cad!" He did. It was better than her being enraged at him. "You never eat lunch with me anyway. Why do you care now?"

"Because you're in too delicate an emotional state to be alone right now. Now eat. It isn't great but it is better than candy and sugar-water."

"Possibly. And it has juice in it, jerk."

"Granted. Also, pushy and invasive, but not a jerk." He poked her in the ribs. "Don't just stir it, eat!"

"Alright, I'm eating! See?" She shoveled a spork-ful of what may have been mashed potatoes into her mouth. And added, under her breath, "What a nosy, over-bearing ass."

AN: By the way, since this would be taking place in about 2019, the "old hybrid" I am referring to is a Toyota Prius from 2004 or so.