Hey, Sarcasmastic here. I wanted to get a few things straight before you dive your little piggy noses into this chapter: I greatly and deeply apologize for all those spelling mistakes in my last chapters! You see, I had it written in a separate notebook, so when I was looking down at the notebook, I was typing blindly, and I only fixed words with my little red squiggle under it. If I spelled the words wrong, but they remained real words, they weren't fixed. D: I am soooo sorry. Yeah, so, here you go on this one, I really hope that you can forgive my horrendous mistakes and be happy with this.

"Hey, Danny," he heard a familiar voice call from behind him. The voice had an apologetic air to it, and he heard that voice only when guilt was there. And just when my mood was starting to pick back up again.

"….hey," he deadpanned. He slammed his locker door shut, making Sam jump when he turned to face her.

"Hey…" she repeated, rubbing her right arm with her left hand and looking down. "How are you doing?"

"Great," he said, finished talking. When he realized she was trying to converse, though, he sighed inwardly. Might as well, Danny, she'll be gone faster if you do. "…and you?" he forced.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Excellent. Bye." His voice viscous with sarcasm, he started to walk away, but she stopped him with a simple:

"Danny—Wait!"

He let the sigh escape out of his mouth and then looked down at his shoes. No matter how little he wanted to talk to her, there was always that thing—that thing she did that could stop Danny in his tracks. He hated that thing, though he didn't even know what it was. "What." Clear, direct, cold. Go away, Sam.

"Danny, can we talk?"

"Technically. Will we? No."

"Come on, Danny! Please! I realize that what I did was wrong, but I need to talk to you, and I have something to say."

"What could you possibly have to say to me, Sam? How can you hurt me any more than you already have?" he asked, still not facing her and still looking at his shoes. He imagined that her face was red, if only for a moment or two—He didn't usually make his quips out loud.

"Danny: I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Can you give me back the six years I wasted chasing you?"

"….no."

"Then… no." He resumed his gait, or, tried to. She called out again—desperate for empathy from the one person she did wrong to. He acknowledged that; he heard it in her voice, but did nothing in reaction to it except what she wanted him to do: stop. He did stop, back to her, listening to her lip quiver and her hands shake. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn that Sam was going to do something stupid, like for instance, forgive him for god-knows-what. Even if she was kidding, that being Sam's brand of humor, it was something he wouldn't be able to handle.

He felt her reach her hand out, intending to put it on his shoulder; he let her pass though him. She stumbled, unprepared and, apparently, offended. She stood back up and straightened her shirt as he retained his tangible form. He almost felt bad, as he'd only ever done that to Tucker as a joke, but he didn't want to regret her laying a hand on him.

"Danny, I'm sorry. I'm just sorry," she said after a few seconds. That's all that she saw of him. When she looked up again, he was gone. No surprise there.

Danny was still there, though. He stood in front of her, silent and somber, wondering why it is that she insisted on doing things like this when they both knew that she didn't plan her words at all. She'd seen him and gone straight through, not caring who was around or what was going on. She didn't realize how bad of a time she'd gotten him in. If she'd approached him early this morning, maybe then he would've talked to her. He definitely would have at least listened to her then. After having to deal with Dash beating him to a bloody pulp, then Mrs. Riddell ridiculing him for being late, Sam didn't have a great chance of getting any compassion. He didn't have time to talk to her, either way. He was going to be late for his next class if he didn't get there soon.

"Dash, dude—what is wrong with you today?" Kwan asked Dash as they both sat in Spanish class. Dash had been acting weird; weirder than usual. He was in a really, really good mood, and Kwan had zero clue why. Even now, as he looked at his blonde-haired friend, it wasn't footballs and goal posts that he was doodling on his paper, but weird shapes that almost looked like… ghosts? Why would Dash be drawing ghosts on his paper? Maybe that's why he's been all quiet: he got attacked by a ghost! No, wait, then why would he be so weird and giggly? No, that's not it…

Kwan was tired of waiting. He leaned over, taking Dash's arm and shaking it to get his attention. Dash looked up at Kwan, confused and almost with a fearful quality. He looked at him, opened his mouth, then shut it again. Kwan raised his eyebrows, but Dash just shook his head.

"Sorry, man. I'm kind of off today, I know. I just had a fuckin' crazy night last night," he smiled.

"You and Paulina?" Kwan asked, nudging in Dash's direction and winking.

"God, no—No, not with Paulina," he said, trying not to sound disgusted. She is your girlfriend—your hot, popular, amazing girlfriend who loves you and who you are in a relationship with. "Can I ask you a question: like, friend to friend?"

"Sure, man. Anytime," Kwan said, leaning in to listen to Dash speak. He was leaning back in his seat pretty far, his legs far out from under his desk. He was also looking down when he asked this, which was odd of Dash in any form of the word.

"Alright, well, it's kind of complicated, but like—"

"Mr. Baxter! If you're so keen on talking, how about you get up and present for the class?" interrupted one Mr. Poull. He was a tall, lean man who didn't fit the "Spanish teacher" stereotype at all. He hated people interrupting his lessons, and got back at them by interrupting their conversations. He was no one's fool but Dash's.

"Uh.. no thanks, Mr. P, I'm good here."

"Then be quiet, and if I have to talk to you again, I'm giving you detention."

"Righto," Dash said, looking back down at his paper. Kwan gave Dash an exasperated look, but Dash smiled and took out a sheet of paper.

You ever liked someone you shouldn't? Dash scrawled onto the paper. He waited for Mr. Poull to look away before chucking it in Kwan's direction. He caught it (he better have; the football team doesn't put anyone who can't catch on the team), and opened it. Dash watched his eyebrows go up before writing something down.

Yeah… what's this about?

Well, dude, I had the most like, amazing night last night, and it wasn't Paulina that I had it with!

DUDE! Who was it? Do I know her?

No, no, you don't. I don't think. It doesn't matter. The weird part about it all is that all we did was talk for like, six hours or something. Sounds boring, right? But no way, dude. I've never had so much fun in my life with anyone! (except my best friend Kwan, of course, lol.) I came into school in an awesome mood: I even got back at Fentoad for stepping out of line the other day. And it was all because of yesterday! Like, how many qualities can a person have? Cute, funny and clever. Seriously.

Haha, I got ya. It sounds really cool. What're you gonna do about it?

I don't know, man… I can't even believe that it's happening. I swear, I didn't mean to do it.

It's a'ight, Dash. We all cheat on our girlfriends. Just break up with her.

ARE YOU NUTS?

Oh, wait… You're dating Paulina, aren't you? Tough break, man. What're you gonna do?

I don't know, Kwan. What would you do?

Probably just keep cheating, man…

I don't know… Thanks anyway, dude.

Any old time, Bro.

There you guys go! Okay, so I hope to update SUPER soon with this one, but not until I get reviews! I seriously need them, it helps me think of ideas and how to make things flow. Even what you'd like to see in here would be amazing! I wanted to dedicate this chapter to Pelori (.net/u/1219598/pelori) for reminding me to put in there what I had forgotten that I needed, and to Thunderstorm101 (.net/u/784592/Thunderstorm101) for dissecting for me and getting me back on track!

Until next time, your famed author and savior, Sarcasmastic~ (rofl.)