To further subdue my fascination with math.


Chapter three.

The air was cold as we stepped above the little stairs, so that we were at level with the altar. A few feet away, Father Dominic was arranging the candles, and swinging that little smoky ball.

Back and forth, back and forth. He circled the candles three consecutive times…and came to a stop. "Susannah." He called, looking over to where Jesse and I were standing, underneath the light of the red candle, hanging from the ceiling. "We're ready."

Jesse turned and started towards the candles, which were pale, serene. Held up in shape of a pentagon.

I caught his sleeve. When he turned his head and looked in my direction, his eyes were black, so black that I could see in them a clear reflection of my own. His lips parted.

But I couldn't let him speak.

"Promise me."

- 42 -

Three hours later, I am ready to meet CeeCee where she had instructed I be, beyond the gnarled branches of the large oak tree, which stands solemnly in the center of the mission's parking lot.

After what seems like a good twenty minutes of waiting, I catch glimpse of her hair, bouncing brightly in a trail behind her. She continues running, her arms full of textbooks as she jerks to a stop in front of me.

"You're late," I say. She is breathing heavily.

"No," she gasps, "I'm never-late. We still have-eight seconds, to go."

My eyebrow is raised, but I can't help but chuckle. Something about this girl seems strange, and yet familiar. Almost as if I've spent all my life watching her, from inside my television, or on the big screen.

"Well," she says, rather dignified for someone who looks as tousled as she does, "shall we go?"

- 42 -

"Cee." I mutter.

There's no reply.

"Cee."

Moments later, we are in my car, cruising down Seventeen Mile Drive, just as the sun is setting. CeeCee is impassive, just sitting here, silently looking out the window as she watches the sky, seeming slightly mesmerized by the rhythmic pattern of the waves.

Occasionally she looks up, and tells me to turn left.

"Cee." I say. "Look. We've been driving for almost a half hour already, and you still haven't told me anything."

I look at her, as a trace of annoyance flutters through me. "I don't care if this is a one way lane. I'm turning this car around and driving into the ocean if you don't tell me...now."

She blinks at me, she hasn't even been listening.

"Oh, hey." She says, "I think we're here."

- 42 -

We get out of the car, and she leads me across an intersection to what appears to be a small cafe. The sign on the window is written in light bulbs, like one of those huge movie theaters. It's so bright, that I can't make out the words.

"I told Adam we were going to meet him here," CeeCee says, flipping aside some of her long white hair.

"Oh." I say, holding the door open as she walks in. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." She flashes me a grin.

The Coffee Clutch, according to CeeCee, is apparently the most 'it' place to be in this small town. Obviously I believe her, not only because of it's kitschy decoration—it looks just like the school gym last year, when Stephanie and her sister were in charge of the Winter Ball—but also due to the fact that just as we walk past the throng of people gathered around the entrance, I am rather surprised to find many people that I recognize from the mission. In fact, it seems the whole school has turned up tonight.

The whole school, sitting there and sipping coffee whilst staring at CeeCee and me as though we've grown three heads. Which is really quite scary, considering how many kids there are, just in the eleventh grade. "Don't worry," Cee whispers as she notices my uneasy gaze, "They do this with the new kids. Suze says it's just like the Manhattan Once-over."

I laugh, and follow her as she pushes through the crowd to a tiny table tucked away near the bathrooms. It appears that Adam has not arrived yet.

A waiter comes by, and CeeCee asks for a mocha frappuccino. I order the same. We sit there, making awkward small-talk until our drinks arrive. And I realize that I regret coming.

Cee looks rather rueful, too. Where's Adam?

She sighs softly as she looks around at the mass of people around us. Talking, laughing, just having fun. And I'm just about to apologize, for being such horrible company when she looks up, her eyes shining. "Do you like it?" she asks, "It was our favorite hang-out. Everyone comes here after school. At least, when Kelly Prescott's not having a party."

Kelly.

My mind jumps back to the image of the girl, the one I bumped into earlier that day. Her picture is crisp in my head, filling my thoughts and my memory. I feel like I've seen her sometime before. But her name couldn't be...

"Hey." I say abruptly. "So is that who the girl was? The one I met today?" I scan the side of her face as she's leaning against the back of her chair. "Is her name, Kelly?"

CeeCee turns away, staring at the soft fabric of the seat. I don't know what she is thinking, but I feel as though I have a very good idea. She was there with me when I met her, looking at me rather peculiarly as we went on to class.

After what a very long time she finally answers me, her voice turned suddenly dim. The loud chatter resonating from the voices around us is quiet.

And eerie feeling comes over me, I feel breathless, though I'm not sure why.

"No," she murmurs, staring down at her napkin. She picks up her straw and starts stirring the foam on her frappuccino. "No, that was my friend. The one who made up the Manhattan Once-over? Her name's—"

A bell dings as the cafe door opens and a hushed silence falls over the room. Everyone is looking, staring in the direction of the door as a young man passes through. His arm is linked to a lavender silk sleeve.

"Paul!" An excited screech comes from one of the girls sitting by the window. She gets up, flipping aside her honey-blonde hair. "You made it! And you brought—"

"—Suze."

My stomach gives a sick lurch as I turn to look at the figure standing beside him, no longer hidden from view, though looking rather reproachful.

Green eyes widen as they search the crowd, pausing momentarily to stare into mine.

And it's her.


I know it's short, but to be perfectly honest... I just wanted to get away from all the damned hyperbolas.

'One Moment More', by Mindy Smith. So much better than 'My Immortal.'