A/N: I'm so proud of myself, what with keeping up with updates and such. It makes me so happy. Another thing that makes me happy is how well my little story of Mary Anna James went over with those who reviewed...if you didn't review then I don't know how you felt about it (hint, hint) so while I can't say that everyone liked it, I can say that those who reviewed liked it. I hope y'all like how I portrayed the gangs reactions to the event as well...

To the first time reviewer, RavenForever thanks for the review chick-ee. And to my dedicated reviewers, PeachestheFirst and TheNextPoliticalDynasty, I love ya' for your outstanding reviews and your kind words.

TNPD(You're name is long...): What were you expecting? I'd actually like to know. You've peaked my interest.

Peaches: I get what you mean. It kind of reminds me of a movie I only saw five minutes of.

On with the show, and as always, enjoy.

Chapter 6: Shattered Pieces of Shattered Lives

The gang sat together at a booth, all except for Vince who sat at a stool his forehead pressed against the coolness of the bar top in front of him. Gus had flipped the open sign over to read closed giving them privacy. Spinelli sat across from TJ glowering at him. She'd said she'd forgiven him, but her scowl said otherwise. Gretchen's eyes were anew with tears, and Mikey sat uncomfortably next to her, resting his head in his hands and sighing every so often. Gus was standing beside the table, bringing them new drinks of soda. They had paused from talking and yelling. They'd done a lot of yelling. Gus slipped into the booth again next to TJ, sitting stiff-backed. He cleared his throat.

"Where were we?"

"The graveness of our mistake," Gretchen answered softly, stirring her soda with her straw and glancing at Spinelli almost frightened. They'd been best friends once. The only girls in the group, they had to stick together back then when they seemed outnumbered by the guys. They had talked to each other about things they didn't think they could share with any of the boys. Now they couldn't even exchange simple conversation without jumping down each other's throats.

"Hm...our mistake...it's interesting how your tune has changed," Mikey commented. Gretchen lowered her eyes.

"My mistake was letting you talk me into..." Gretchen trailed off, she paused a moment, closing her eyes, regaining her voice before asking quietly, "Did you know they discovered it was arson."

"Huh?" TJ stared at her, "What do you mean?"

"The building was burned down on purpose, someone purposely lit it on fire," she explained, pushing her glasses up with her thumb, tears splashing on the tabletop, "I don't know about you, but I for one followed the story. I kept hoping that Mary Anna would show up. She never did. Her parents..." she trailed off, overcome with sobs, "I don't know who to blame," she cried, giving in to her sorrow, "Was it TJ, who came up with the plan and led her there? Spinelli, who played the biggest role in the plan and caused her to faint? Vince, who helped Spinelli? Gus, who made sure everything went according to plan and set everything up? Was it Mikey, who never spoke out against it and even lent a helping hand? Was it...was it...was it me? Was it one of the other kids who helped out? Or was it the one who lit the building on fire?"

"I didn't do anything," Vince shouted from the bar, "I stood there with Spinelli and told her when they were in place. That's all." He turned his glare to the booth where they all sat, a knot in his throat, "I didn't do...I didn't..."

"Maybe it is my fault," TJ muttered, staring at his hands laid on the table, "It was my plan...I just wanted her to...I don't know...it wasn't that I didn't like her...she just..."

"Finally he admits to it," Vince spat, "If it wasn't for you, TJ..."

"It's not TJ's fault!" Spinelli snapped, jumping up as best she could at the booth table, "Cut it out, Teej. It ain't your fault. You had no way of knowing that things would end up like that."

"Always sticking up for him," Vince laughed sardonically, "You sure stuck up for him then, too. Or maybe you wanted her to faint Spinelli, so you could go back later and..."

"Hey!" TJ shouted, pushing his way past Gus to stand in front of Vince, "Spinelli didn't do anything, you...you bastard. You can place the blame on me, I don't give a damn, but don't start accusing her of things or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" Vince asked, standing up to his full height and glowering angrily down at TJ.

"You think I'm scared of you?" TJ demanded, clenching his fists.

"Hey!" Gus cried from the table, "Will you cut it out? The last thing we need is you two beating the crap out of each other and destroying Kelso's." The two young men looked away from one another, loosening slightly.

"She wasn't on your side back then, you know," Vince whispered to TJ, "Spinelli was on my side, blaming you."

TJ turned away, crossing the room to a candy stand, but he couldn't see the candy stacked neatly on it; his vision blurred with rage. He caught his reflection in the windowpane as Vince's words sank in. Spinelli was supporting him now. She was on his side now. He stared for a long time, convincing himself that that was the truth and that that was all that mattered. Even if the truth was he had even started blaming himself for what happened long ago. That's why he stopped coming up with plans. He began to dread what would happen if he ever saw a plan through again. That gleam that came to his eyes, that smile that crossed his lips...that mischievous smile, they were gone. How Spinelli still wanted to be around him was beyond his understanding. The very fact that she wanted to be with him, a "lump" as Jocko had so well put it, was hard enough to swallow. But TJ the hideous lump that got a little girl killed? TJ, who can't even look himself in the mirror sometimes, let alone meet the eyes of his girlfriend? TJ, who couldn't express his real feelings then, or now? Yes, TJ, what a prince, unattractive, out-of-shape, freckle-faced, weakling, afraid to even face himself, let alone the world. TJ. Theodore Jasper Dettwieler, a real lady-killer. The truth was, he wasn't afraid that Spinelli might blame him. He was afraid that she didn't blame him and that when she realized the truth that it was entirely his fault that she wouldn't want to be with him anymore. After all, who would want to be with a murderer?

"We all blame each other," Gus sighed, "Someone else...anyone else but ourselves is responsible, right?"

"That's not it..." Spinelli muttered, laying her head down on the table. She had hated Mary Anna in a way she couldn't understand, even so far as having wanted to beat the snot out of her every time that stupid blonde southern bell talked to TJ or giggled or made TJ blush...yeah, Spinelli noticed that, but she never wanted what happened to happen. It left Spinelli confused. She didn't know what to trust anymore or who. TJ's plans had never failed her before, never left anyone so hurt. TJ had never let her down before. But for all his planning, all his charm, all his careful attention to detail, he'd failed to see the greatest flaw in his plan, the possible consequences of his actions. She loved him so much that she was afraid of what the truth may be. That he could be to blame for what happened, not entirely, but mostly. If it weren't for TJ's plan, Mary Anna wouldn't have been in the gym that day after school. If TJ hadn't brought them all together, Randall wouldn't have been there to lock the door. If...if...if...she hated that word. It made no sense to say "if". Spinelli was a realist. What happened, well, happened, and it's in the past. No amount of "if's" could change that. All that was left was responsibility now, blame. Who was to blame for what happened? She had blamed TJ. She'd stood beside Vince, even though for once, she had held her tongue in the matter and let them do the fighting and finger pointing. She had never outright told TJ that she'd felt it was his fault, because in a big way, it all confused her. But mostly, sitting there at that booth, glancing at TJ from the corner of her eye, she was afraid that she still blamed him.

"Then what is it, Spinelli?" TJ questioned silently, apathetically, as he reached out to pick up a candy bar as though to read the ingredients, but never even seeing the words.

"Yeah, Spinelli," Vince said, "Who's fault do you think it is?"

"We're not going to do this again, are we?" Gretchen spoke up, "You blame TJ, Vince. TJ blames himself. Mikey blames everyone. Gus blames no one. I don't know who to blame, and Spinelli...who cares who she blames. Who cares who any of us blame? In the end, Mary Anna is still dead."

"Gretchen..." Gus sputtered, "I don't think you should say..."

"What?" Gretchen demanded, "She is dead. You know, dead? Do you not understand? She is dead, dead, dead, mort, mortem, dood, tot, guasto, muerto, D-E-A-D, dead! Not saying it does not make it untrue. She's gone, never coming back, dead."

They all fell silent once more, letting that rant sink in, Gretchen's wracked sobs the only noise in the small building. She buried her head in her arms, crying uncontrollably. She had, frankly, given up after Mary Anna's death. Given up on everything that didn't make sense, hiding herself in science, the only thing that did make sense. She was so eager to leave her small hometown behind after it happened, so eager to escape what didn't make sense. How could you be here one moment and then gone the next? How could a little girl's life just end like that when the life expectancy of an American female was somewhere around sixty years? Shouldn't she have lived another fifty years? Old people died, not little girls. People who have lived long lives, who have done everything they found worth doing already. Children didn't really ever die. Weren't they invulnerable? Untouchable by the Grim Reaper? Well, why weren't they? It had to be a harsh and cruel world to allow such things as children dying to happen. Then why did her parents always tell her growing up that the world was wonderful and full of endless possibilities? Why did they lie to her? Why couldn't life be like science, where all the numbers added up? Science, where two plus two always equaled four, there were no exceptions. Science, where logic was leader, where numbers always added up, where outcomes could be tested and predicted. Science, where things made sense.

"I know what it means to be dead," Gus finally said indignantly, "I saw a great deal of death when I traveled with the Peace Corp...I saw a terrorist bomb explode killing three citizens, men I'd befriended, when I was in Turkey."

"But it's different," Gretchen sobbed, "Mary Anna was a child...we were children...we were involved in her death."

"Shut up, Gretchen!" Vince snapped, "Just shut up..." He slammed his fist against the bar and turned his back on them. It was all he could think of to do. It's what he did when it all happened. He turned his back on them, putting the fault completely on TJ and turning on the gang for not doing the same. Before, Spinelli had been on his side, backing him silently. She'd told him she felt the same, that TJ was at fault. But now...now she was with TJ, the one responsible for everything. It had to be TJ's fault, it all had to be his fault. If it wasn't, then that would make it Vince's fault too...and he couldn't be the one to blame. He had too much going for him, too much potential for something like this to be his responsibility. But then why did it hurt, why did he feel - guilty? -- standing here talking about it like this...or fighting, which was what they were really doing? Why did it hurt when he yelled at TJ, when he blamed TJ? And why did it hurt so much, having everything he did; his place in the NBA, his title of MVP, his money, his house, his college scholarship that he never used, his Viper, his fans, everything, and still knowing that Spinelli was with TJ? As though, even in the end, even with it being TJ's fault, he still won. Was it because the only person who backed Vince, the one person who was on his side, had left him to be with TJ, the one he was against? Vince had spent most of his youth angry, angry with everyone, but especially at TJ. He felt, in a way, that his best friend had betrayed him. That TJ had let him down. That TJ had exposed him to something a kid shouldn't have been exposed to. That TJ had lit his world, his beliefs, and his happiness on fire and gleefully watched it burn down. And Vince had been angry at the world too, for letting him down and crushing his childish beliefs with harsh reality, and that only fueled his athletic spirit, driving him to compete harder. He'd had thirty fouls in one game once, yet his team still won because he scored nearly forty-three points. Anger suited him. And he could be angry with everyone, the entire gang; Gretchen, Gus, Mikey, TJ, and Spinelli. But if anger suited him, why did his stomach twist with an emotion other than anger when he sat here with the old gang like this...and why did it hurt so much when he saw TJ and Spinelli together the way they were?

"It's bitterly ironic," Mikey whispered snidley, "Almost poetic."

"How's that," Gretchen blubbered, the only one who really heard him. Mikey sighed, slipping out of the booth dramatically. According to Mikey, he wasn't at fault. There was no possible way that he, who held life so dear and precious, could be involved in the demise of a classmate. She had been a young flower, destroyed in her prime, by angry and vengeful barbarians, misunderstanding her pure intentions. To Mikey, you had to be truly evil to bring about another's death, and as far as Mikey was concerned, he wasn't evil, so he couldn't be responsible. There was no possible way. His former friends, however, he wasn't entirely sure were good. They had to be the ones to blame, which made them evil. And he could not, in his mind, vouch for them otherwise. Through his perception, they all transformed. TJ, who had once been nothing more than a goofy monkey child spreading joy with his cheerful pranks became a conniving imp whose mind was filled with dark and sinister plots. Gretchen, who Mikey had once thought her knowledge was only matched by the wisdom she possessed beyond her meager years became a twisted and mad scientist intent on the destruction of mankind motivated by her naiveté. Gus, who'd once been a kind and gentle, soft-spoken soul, became a heartless fiend incapable of caring for others around himself. Vince, who'd been a dedicated and loyal friend and athlete, commendable in all aspect became an oafish smut of a backstabber. And Spinelli who Mikey once thought of as strong and powerful, a champion of the small and helpless became a dirt-bag bully with no sense of justice. Mikey was the one who was right and they were in the wrong. As far as he was concerned, they hadn't listened to him and his preaching about thinking of others. He believed, truly, that he had spoken out against what happened to Mary Anna, and that his friends had simply refused to listen. Yes, that was it. That had to be it. Because he was a good person incapable of even comprehending the very nature of evil, and they were tainted, unable to redeem themselves in his eyes.

"You strove to hurt another," Mikey explained, "All of you did. You wanted her to suffer, and so, in the greatest of irony, you all became the ones to suffer, as she rests in peace."

"Humph," Spinelli snorted, "It's so easy for you to separate yourself from us, huh, Mikey? You're on such a moral high ground, the world itself would end should you commit even the smallest sin."

"Or perhaps it's because I can tell the difference between right and wrong," Mikey stated simply, "That puts me on a different level than you, Ashley. The very fact that I have morals, makes me different than you."

"Hey, Mikey, your morals telling you to shut up yet?" Spinelli questioned spitefully, leaning towards the lumbering youth with her fist clenched in front of her.

"Um..." Mikey gulped.

"Always with your sarcasm, Spinelli," Gretchen whispered harshly, "You think that will protect you from everything. That's what you think separates you from us, your cynical point of view. Nothing is your fault so long as you can pretend you don't give a damn. You can't be blamed for what you had no real interest for in the first place."

"Yeah, and what you can't find a sarcastic remark for, you threaten or insult," Gus agreed.

"You haven't changed at all," Gretchen went on, "I want to rip that mask off your face, like last night when you were all dressed up nice, even though I could still see the ugliness beneath. You're not a woman, Spinelli, you're hardly a girl. You're still the tomboy from grade school, with scrapes on both her knees and a curled snarl on her lips."

"Get me out of here," Spinelli snapped, pulling herself onto the tabletop, walking across it and jumping to the ground, not wanting to give Gretchen the dignity of having to ask her to move, "You people can't analyze me like this and I'm not sticking around to play the blame game again. I'm out of here. If you really want this punishment, Teej, than stay. But I'm done, I've had enough of this trip down memory lane." No one had the chance to stop her as she flung the door open and left.

"Damn it," TJ muttered watching in anguish as Spinelli kicked their rented car than stomped off down the street. He wanted to chase after her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Vince made his way to the door, taking a moment to glower at everyone still in the building.

"I have places to be," he said quietly before turning and leaving in the same direction Spinelli left, probably headed home. Gretchen pushed her way out of the booth, as well, letting out an exasperated breath of air.

"First that cryptic letter and now this," Gretchen mumbled, straightening her skirt. TJ's ears perked up at that.

"What cryptic letter?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Is that really any of your business?"

"No. Was it in a brown envelope?" TJ continued. Gretchen raised an eyebrow at him.

"How did you...?" But before she could finish TJ had produced from his back pocket the brown envelope that Spinelli had received.

"Hey, I got one of those too," Gus said, almost excitedly.

"As did I," Mikey stated.

"Why do I have a strange feeling about this...?" TJ muttered, clutching the brown envelope in his hand miserably.

END A/N: I know...short...I hate that it's so short. But I love all the emotions spewing all over the place. I'm getting to the blood and gore and horror, I promise...It's coming...I'm getting there, I'm getting there. So you don't have to wait this long in a Stephen King novel, big bloody deal.

And my advice for the day, "If you don't have anything nice to say, watch who you talk to." Please review. I want your opinions, dammit! If you have no opinion, then you are a boring person. And cruel too. You get me all excited thinking that I'll have feedback on my story and then crushing my happiness because no one reviewed...so sad...sniffles...Do you want me to be sad? I guess I write better like that...NO! I take that back, review.

And if you read all of that...

Please overlook any grammatical and typing errors. And thanks for reading.