Sleep didn't help. It might have made things worse. She didn't even know how she made it into the shower. She sat there, staring at her hands, trying to make sense out of the jumble, the pile, no, the puddle of vomit that stained her mind. When her conscious mind had gone off to bed last night, it gave the unconscious one the reins again. Like before, her unconscious mind kept picking at the scabby mass that had been thrust upon her the past week, giving her no real break. When she woke up, she'd found that her unconscious mind hadn't done anything but leave a mess for her to clean up. Fragments of conversations, single frames of events, shards of emotional states were strewn all over the place. The vast amount of information, which had been gathered over days, was all right in front of her, all at once. Almost one whole week was compressed into a small time frame, about the same amount of time it would take to ready a hammer for a swing, then crash it into your own skull. It contrasted heavily with the regular flow of reality, and it felt like she was in a tug of war match between the past six days and the past six seconds.

She was out of the shower now. She didn't know when that happened, but she hoped she actually cleaned herself instead of just sitting there like an idiot. She was looking into a mirror. The usual dark circles that accompanied such stress were there.

In her room, trying to button her shirt. Her trembling hands had already pulled a button free. Why bother?

Well, what else was there to do? She'd be suspicious if she suddenly stopped showing up. If there was an answer, Misha sure as hell couldn't see it. Her brains were far too scrambled. Can ya blame her, you judgmental fuck?

No, that guy giving her that weird look by the front door didn't deserve that comment, even if it was only in her mind. She pushed by him, and headed to class.

Oh, God. Class.

What in the hell was she doing? Fuck her being suspicious, she should just run. Just run screaming to the bus stop and never look back.

And leave everything like this?

Well, this was no time to disappoint. Especially when it came to Mutou.

She only barely made it into the bathroom. She threw up into a toilet, then stood retching over it, the following dry heaves making her feel like she was getting pummeled in her guts.

"Not real... it wasn't real... that's impossible...," she whimpered to herself. But she was neither listening or caring.

She rinsed her mouth out and looked in the mirror. It took every ounce of self-restraint she had to not smash it.

She hated that face. It no longer looked human. She looked like a clown. Ha ha. Misha's mind wanders again, and everything goes to shit. Not funny anymore, really. It was an old joke, one that paraded into class every day, slamming the door open in a non-deserved triumphant manner, its welcome more than just worn out.

She stood outside the door to class 3-3. It was open, with no teacher. Nobody would probably suspect a thing until at least halfway through the first period. That's probably why Shizune was looking so smug. She looked like the queen of the classroom. She hadn't caught sight of Misha yet.

Someone asked Misha to move, she was blocking the door. She didn't. They asked louder. Misha whirled around on her heel and pointed a finger in their face. They would have excuse her, she needed to get something...

Cold, steely fingers on her shoulders. Grabbing her from behind. The cold numbed her completely. She put up no fight, and she let herself get turned around. She was looking straight into Shizune's face.

Shizune's smile was sweet. Sticky sweet, like liquid that melted off an ice-pop. It got stuck to your hand on a nasty summer day, humid as all hell. You couldn't see it, but it was there, you felt it, and you kept trying to wipe it off. It was catching dirt. Now you went and smeared it on your clothes, attracting bees. A whole swarm. A whole hive. No where to run; you were stuck in a field. You'll tire out before those little bastards do.

Shizune steered Misha across that field, over to her desk, and sat her down. She preened Misha a bit, who hadn't really done a good job getting ready that morning. Misha felt like the prized doll of a little girl, one who tore the wings off of flies at times.

When all was said and done, Shizune sat down, and turned to face Misha, [Just one more day. Pretty exciting, isn't it?]

Misha nodded. Her face was blank. She was just going with the flow.

Shizune looked around the classroom, then signed, [Hey, we might be able to sneak off before class starts. What do you say?]

Misha signed slowly, [Not today.]

[What? Why not?]

Aw crap. All set for the big date and she forgot all her cash. And her tire iron.

Misha gulped. [I'm not feeling up to it today, Shizune.]

Shizune drew back, and looked a bit troubled. Misha wondered why, and then realized she didn't use their made up sign for "Shicchan." Misha kept talking, trying to keep everything from falling to pieces, [I think I might have eaten something bad, I don't know, I just feel sick.]

There was no way in hell she was letting herself be boxed in a room alone with this bitch. No way.

Shizune reached over and put a hand on Misha's forehead. Misha tried not to scream.

Shizune pulled back, [You don't have a fever, but...,] she thought hard, and then gave Misha an apologetic look, [I hate to say it, but you do look pretty terrible today.] She reached into her pockets and whipped out that sweet smile again, so fast you couldn't even see her draw, [How about you lie down in the nurse's office? Maybe I can sneak off to town around lunch and grab you something? Maybe a parfait to go?]

[It would melt. Shicchan.] She remembered that time.

Shizune looked troubled again, [But Misha...]

"Look, I don't want to!" She stood up as she exclaimed this, signing all the while. She broke eye contact with Shizune, and saw that the entire class was now staring at her.

Hanako's voice crept through the staring eyes, only barely audible, "But Misha, that's your friend, right? Being with her makes you happy?"

Miki piped up, "Yeah, Misha, calm down. You just aren't right when you're separated from Shizune."

Shizune stood up slowly, peering at Misha over the rims of her glasses, batting her eyes, a cute little smile on her face. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest.

Misha began to back up as everyone started to crowd her.

"Yeah, come on Misha, it's only a half-day today. You can do it!"

"Shizune would be so lonely if you didn't go with her."

Misha's back pushed up against the window.

"Don't make our rep do all that work by herself!"

"It's just one more day to the festival, you can do it!"

Shizune stopped a foot away from Misha. She leaned forward towards Misha, balancing on the balls of her feet.

Someone tittered. "They look so cute together!"

"I couldn't imagine a world where they were apart."

Misha vomited. All down Shizune's front.

Shizune leaped back, and everyone gasped. Shizune held her arms out to the side and stared at the front of her shirt in disbelief for several seconds, before suddenly getting hit by a spasm of realization, and ripping pages out of her notebook in a futile attempt to use the pages as a towel.

Misha clasped her hands to her mouth, muttered an apology along with something about going to see the nurse, and bolted out of the room.