"Hey, Taylor," Jessie chirped in her permanently cheerful tone. "Did you finish Morris's essay?"
"Of course." I opened my binder and quickly located the double-spaced printout of an English essay that had taken me way too much time last night.
Sandra lightly banged her head on the locker next to mine and said a few colorful words our Honors English teacher would not have liked us to use.
"So what you're saying is... you forot?" Jessie deadpanned. "You still have one class to do it in."
She got a glare. "Waste my Theater Arts class waxing eloquent about some random line Morris plucked out of a book?"
"Or not." Jessie shook her head solemnly. "I should know better by now."
I dropped my backpack in the locker and fished out my Pre-Calc book. Checking for my first period homework, I added, "Sandra, did you at least do th--"
"No, probably not, whatever you're going to say, and I'm not going to," she interrupted with a defiant sulk. "Any extra time I have between classes will be spent on the essay." She raked one hand through her dark hair. "I'm going to head off, get a good seat, start working on it before class."
Jessie nodded. "I should go, too. See you, Taylor."
I waved goodbye maybe a little too eagerly, having just spotted Keith heading towards me. He slung his arm around my shoulders and kissed me quickly on the cheek. "Hey, beautiful."
I probably should have felt a quick rush of my previous insecurities, but all I really felt was happiness. He loved me, and even if it was for my hair, my body, my face, I didn't care.
I needed to hear him say it. I drew back a step and smiled coyly up at him. "Love me?"
"You know it." He offered his arm. "I'll walk you to class."
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw that fly again. I shifted uneasily, trying to shake off an undefinable fear.
When we reached the classroom, I kissed Keith goodbye and took a seat. Is it my imagination or is that fly still following me? Wait -- it must be. It's leaving. I felt relief.
"Hey, Taylor."
I looked up. "Hey, Brent. What's up?"
He grinned mischievously, which is possibly the only way Brent knows how to grin. "Cool stuff," he said in a low voice. "You up for a little fun?"
"Mm.. Yeah." Distractedly, I scanned the other two students Brent had motioned over to my desk. "Hey, Patrick. Hey, Mike. Okay, Brent," I said, turning back to him. "What's going on?"
"Did you hear about that crash in the town over?"
"Crash? Like an accident?"
His grin widened. "An accident, all right. The media's scrambling to cover it up. They're doing really good, too -- so good that none of you have even heard about it."
"Like I have time to keep up with every car wreck that happens anyway?" Patrick said, arching a brow.
Brent smirked. "Wasn't a car."
"Then what was it?" snapped Mike. "I have homework I didn't do. I could be doing it now. Don't waste my time."
"Alien spacecraft," Brent said nonchalantly. The nonchalance was ruined by the glint in his eyes.
Mike snorted rudely and moved away, shaking his head. Patrick stayed. "Tell me more," he said grandly, assured as usual of his own importance and the honor he conferred on Brent by listening.
"I'll be brief." Brent was not in the least let down by Mike's stalking off. "Two months ago. Alien spacecraft. Go boom. Media scrambles, but not to cover it. To cover it up. No tabloids get it. The media says some kids shot off fireworks. Right."
"Hey, how'd you find out about this if National Enquirer can't?" I demanded. "Oh, yeah, and what are you on?"
Brent ignored me for the moment. "I checked: the spacecraft's gone --"
"How convenient," I interposed.
"--but I want to go look and see if the little clean-up crew left anything." He shrugged his linebacker shoulders. "And it's just no fun alone."
"You're high," I said flatly. "I have stuff to do."
"Yeah? Keith already said he was in. And that he thought it would be fun if you came."
A smile spread over my lips. "Then I'm there." As an afterthought, I added, "But you're still high."