AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, I know I haven't updated in forever, but I've been so busy lately I nearly forgot about this story. Anyway, I'm back on track now, and have plenty of ideas. Don't worry, you'll find out more about Desdemona and her part in the suicide. ;) Thank you for reviewing, here's Chapter 5, enjoy.

CHAPTER FIVE

"So anyway I met this one guy, he was one of my dad's coworker's sons, and we started talking and." It was time for Shiori's weekly kiss and tells. Sometimes they were more then just kissing and telling.

But Desdemona didn't particularly care. She even skipped along, bobbing her head. Felix the Cat was fading from her worn shoelaces. Shiori had scowled; this was not a shopping trip, this was a "find somebody to lust over me while I stare sullenly at them!" trip. Hooker boots carving out her ivory pillar legs, straps barely running over shoulders. Desdemona never wanted to dress like Shiori; she dressed too pretentious and far too much like a whore for Desdemona's tastes.

Then again, Desdemona never wanted to be like Shiori, either.

"Hey look at this guitar!" Desdemona peered into the store. Shiori sighed, rolled her eyes, puffed up like a blowfish. She had the whole valley girl routine down pat. Or was it the stuck-up icy bitch routine she was going for.

"God, Desi, I know band guys are hot, but they're all stoners anyway."

"Fuck you, Shiori." She always had that inane talent of sucking the joy out of everything. Desdemona pressed her face to the window, breath fogging the windows, not bothering to employ her fingers as windshield wipers. Her lips barely graced the window.

"I want you," she murmured.

"Oh puh-leeze!" Shiori muttered. Then she saw across the street the skater boys checking her out, so she puffed up her breasts and gently waved, before turning back to Desdemona.

Desdemona moaned, "I need you."

"Shut up, I'm trying for the shy girl routine." Desdemona ignored Shiori as she stared at the guitar longer. Just then, one of the clerks in the store decided to lean across to the window and kiss Desdemona through the window.

"Eww, nevermind!" cried Desdemona. She grabbed her friend, "Come on!"

"Nooooo, they were just checking me out!!"

Sighs.

"I don't ever want to work," Desdemona decided. "It just seems like a bitch.

"Pfft, yeah, it is!" sighed Shiori. "I mean, all that sleeping your way to the top gets old." Shiori always talked about sex and how experienced she was. Desdemona knew better then to believe her. "Anyway, back to my story.what was it again?"

"Some boy you were mouth fucking."

"Hey, I was not!"

Shiori had no idea what mouth fucking was, but she felt like saying she wasn't anyway.

"So.Takemura tells me you and Sei skipped class!" Shiori said.

Desdemona shrugged, but she felt her stomach do a little flip, "Yeah, it was fun stuff."

"So.?"

"So."

"God, Desi!" Shiori always whined, and when she did, those were her favorite two words. "It's a boy! There's nothing wrong with admitting that you like a boy! Unless you're a lesbian.are you a lesbian?"

"No," Desdemona explained. Shiori gave her an odd look, skeptic, and then shrugged.

"Well, then if you AREN'T a lesbian, who do you like?"

Desdemona sighed and said, "Mr. Miyazaki."

"Don't joke, we already had too many teachers kicked out for having affairs with teachers."

"Yup, I've always had that fantasy of seducing a balding, middle aged, saggy skin male."

Shiori shuddered, "That's not even funny, even if you need an A. What about Ichiro, of that band you were trying out for?"

"Nothing coming out of that."

"Why not?"

"He said girls couldn't rock as hard as guys."

"Pfft, who'd WANT to?"

"Me."

"Butch."

"Bitch." The two kept walking, as if the words they had exchanged were mere terms of endermeant. Then, for perhaps the first time in Shiori's lifetime, a light bulb went off. "Ohmygawd, you are totally crushing on Sei!" Shiori giggled. Oh brother."This is so great! You can have Sei and I can have Rei!"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"No, no, shut up! Look, you'll need a new outfit! We'll need a manicurist, a hair appointment--"

"I'm out." Desdemona flashed her the bird, but she couldn't help feeling her cheeks flush just a little.

* * *

School returns, and girls shave their legs and boys gel their hair. Teachers prepare to spend time babysitting hormonally driven teenagers. They've given up on many things: the dress code, policing, even teaching. The pills in the drawer, the affairs with the secretaries, that's all that mattered nowadays anyway. Until they made it home.

Bell signaled freedom. Bells just for her. So Desdemona made her way out, out past the court and the yard and the couples swapping kisses. Safe from the rest of the world because, after all, THEY were together. All they needed was EACH OTHER. And a doctor for an abortion.

**Wait, is that.?** Desdemona's attention snapped from her headphones to a boy. A boy with blonde hair and perfectly spaced teeth and Greek god-like appearance. Was it Sei?

"Hey, Desi!"

Nope. Rei.

Damn.

"Rei," Desdemona spoke, turning to face him. He smiled, "How's it going?"

"Good," Desdemona said.

"Yoohoo! Desi, Rei!"

The petulant whine of the Shiori in her natural habitat.

She linked her arms with Rei, tossing back her silky black mane. She knew she was beautiful, and had no qualms with playing it up. Her arm wrapped around Rei, "What are you two up to?"

"Relax, nothing important," muttered Desdemona. "Have you seen Sei?"

Shiori glared hatefully; Rei's voice spiraled, "Yeah, he's in the art room, as usual."

"Thanks," Desdemona said. Rei stared at his shoes, kicking dust up lightly.

"Wait, why don't I come with you--" Shiori began.

Desdemona turned back, and clipped, "I think I can manage for myself." Shiori was always easy to put in her place.

Slinging messenger bag over shoulder, Desdemona knocked on the doorway to the art room. The boy that gave her a ride home the other day, Takemura, painting a dull composition with all colors but no feeling. Sei sat, brow furrowed, in the corner. His mind was completely focused on his work, the way the paintbrush graced the paper's presence. He held that paintbrush like it was a queen.

**He's so serious,** Desdemona thought. **And do I love it.**

"Knock knock."

Sei glanced over, a smile in place, and the seriousness was gone, "Desdemona."

Takemura glanced around, being the only other person there and not particularly wanting to invade their privacy, announced that he needed to pick up some, erm, clothes from the locker room he'd forgotten. He scuttered out.

Desdemona smirked, and walked over to study Sei's panting. It arched and curved and twirled, a wild swirl of colors and thought that had been poured onto paper, "You don't have to call me Desdemona."

"Desi?"

She shook her matted hair, "Nah. Why not Mona Lisa? Unless..." Desdemona propped herself on the counter, "there's some one else."

Sei smiled, "Mona Lisa it is."

"I can't talk that long," Desdemona said. "I just wanted to invite you to a concert of mine."

"You're in a band?"

"Sort of. One of the local bands, Defect, thought that having a girl lead singer would get them more attention from the males, which would get them more money. Badda bing, you're looking at her."

"That's great," Sei said. He was so sincere, so gentle and honest. "Where is it?"

"At Longview, down by that grocery store we busted," Desdemona said satisfyingly. She was so wild and loud. She wrapped her arms around him, "I hope you can come."

A little tug at the corner of Sei's mouth, "We'll see."

Desdemona kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Ahem."

The two abruptly turned around, Desdemona almost knocking Sei out of his chair. Shiori stood, tapping her foot, arms crossed, "I never thought the art room would become a designated make-out room."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Shiori, Sei just needed some peer editing," Desdemona said, smoothing out her skirt. She winked at Sei. Shiori caught this, and from the way she was glaring could've caused her permanent wrinkles.

"Go home and practice now, Desi," Shiori said.

"See you later tonight, Sei," Desdemona called as she trotted out of the room. Sei nodded. Shiori still glared.

"What?"

"You don't want her," Shiori commanded. "She's not good enough for you."

Sei turned back to his painting, "You really shouldn't be the judge of that."

"I'm her best friend, or the only friend she's got," Shiori stated. She sat down on a stool next to Sei, crossing her legs. He stared at his work, she stared at him. "You don't want someone wild and untamed like her. She could break you too easily."

Sei still worked.

"She doesn't understand what a gentle soul is. Or what one like you needs. Do you really think she'd give up her dreams to help with you? Do you think she'd really be there for you, to let you cry on her shoulder when you trip and fall?

"She's not a nurturer, Sei."

Sei worked on, but the focus was less on his painting. Doubt crossed his mind.

Kneeling down, Shiori wrapped her arms across his chest and around the neck, whispering so closely to his ear that Sei could feel her tongue in his ear, "Do you really want to blow your chances with all the other girls? Or more importantly." Shiori stood up to her full height, which wasn't the high, but from Sei's point of view she seemed intimidating, "with one girl in particular?"

Sei paused from the painting.

"Think about that and get back to me on it."

Then she was gone.

Sei didn't go back to painting that day.