SORRY WE TOOK SO LONG!

Oooh, deary me. This is an interesting chapter.

Love Lolly and Hayley

- 8 -

I don't know what I expected when I went to school that Thursday morning. From Paul, I mean. But if I had hoped for the slightest bit of sympathy, I was to be severely disappointed.

That previous night had been one of the darkest of my life. And I've had my fair share of darkest hours. I believe, though, that that one pretty much took the cake.

Because in all my near-death experiences, never before had I felt the GUILT that I had then.

It was murder.

Pure, simple, murder.

Jesse had not stayed for long. I had not been able to meet his gaze, let along reply to his question. Partly because I was still trying to figure out the answer to it.

YEAH, SUZE. WHY? WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND KISS PAUL SLATER?

WHY?

. . . I honestly had no idea.

Well, none that I was willing to say without backing it up with proof.

So after a night that had been so cold and numb that I really felt for all who'd ever drowned in ice, I went to school the next day, probably looking like hell. I mean, I looked fine, I guess. I'd put on perhaps a little more mascara to compensate for my droopy eyelids due to lack of sleep . . .

But yeah. I guess I just FELT like hell. Mum even offered to let me stay home. Seriously. I was that bad.

I just shrugged, and said I was fine.

Yeah. Whatever. I don't think that 'fine' will ever be the state of health for Susannah Simon.

At school, I swear to God, I didn't see him at ALL till lunchtime.

And when I looked at him, his eyes just made me go numb all over again . . .

After a completely crappy night, I found it impossible to stay motivated at school. Especially at lunch, when I found out I had forgotten to bring money for lunch. Brad sat across from me at the table grabbing a handful of French fries in his clumsy hands and shoved them in his mouth. Some even dropped on the table, left inedible.

I stared at the fries left behind. I was starving, but I couldn't have them. They weren't mine. Much like a certain girl I happen to know . . .

I realized Brad had been saying my name. I shook my head and snapped out of it. 'What?' I asked him.

'You were at my house yesterday,' Brad said.

Nah, that was just a hologram. I swear, the United States is screwed when people like Brad Ackerman get the chance to vote in a year.

'Your point?'

'You came from Suze's room. What were you doing there?' Brad inquired, raising his eyebrows in a sort of disgusting suggestive manner.

And that's when I saw her. Suze, I mean. Right as she walked in, our eyes met. For a moment, it was as if the world stopped around us.

I wanted to feel sorry for myself for losing her. For losing MYSELF. But I found out I was past that.

Past the self pity and onto something else. Anger.

I dunno what it was about that look that made me paralyzed all over. I guess it was the coldness. Something I guess I deserved.

I just hadn't expected it.

Then he looked away.

And - can you BELIEVE IT? - it was THEN that I remembered, oh YEAH, I had TENNIS that afternoon. Two hours. Whole class.

Which was, you know, better than just Paul and me.

But STILL.

As he'd torn his gaze from mine, I felt something rip inside of me. My purity, or something. Like I truly WAS something that was low, and slutty, and gross. I dunno.

I just knew that I felt horrible.

8 -

As I was putting on my tennis uniform, I sighed, wishing so hard that I didn't have to do this. I mean, I COULD just quit there and then, couldn't I? No one was MAKING me play.

Besides the fact that I kind of LIKED the game - nah, that wasn't the point.

It wasn't a very sunny day out. I stood out on the courts, waiting for the rest of the team to show up. The clouds loomed in the sky, mirroring the mood.

I wondered if Suze was going to show up. Not that I cared or anything. I just figured she'd give up on Tennis like I gave up on her.

With a racket in hand, I came out amidst a group of other girls that had just gotten changed in the change rooms. They were giggling about something. I wasn't listening. Amanda started going on about the apparent hotness of our tennis captain.

She really has no idea who she's talking about . . . no idea.

'Why aren't you wearing your tennis top?' Amanda asked me.

I shrugged awkwardly. 'Oh, um . . . I forgot to wash it. And this turtleneck was the only white thing I had.'

Lie.

We made it onto the tennis courts, and there was Paul, just standing there. Again, when his eyes made contact with mine, something heart-shattering occurred.

The guys came out, staggered, from the men's' change rooms. Paul bounced his tennis ball once, and made furious effort to avoid my eyes. 'Right,' he said.

Right.

. . . Ha. Wrong.

Tennis lessons could begin, now that everyone was out of the locker rooms.

'All right, everyone,' I began, 'follow me to the courts. And may I remind some of you who forgot, all practices are to be made in proper tennis uniform. Luckily the coach isn't here today, or you might be off the team.'

Suze looked at me stonily.

God.

That wasn't teasing.

That had come from pure coldness.

. . . Okay, Suze, cool it. It's only two hours. Then you can go home -

to Jesse, who you've practically cheated on.

Oh. Fun.

We all followed him to the other court. I tugged down on my sleeveless turtleneck nervously, making sure the edge came over the top of my skirt. My heart was going thud-thud-thud-thud in my chest, and my mouth felt so dry that the back of my throat felt like it was scraping the inside of my mouth.

Once we made it to the court, I placed my racket on the ground, everyone else following suit. 'Okay, let's do some warm up stretches. Care to lead them, Amanda?'

Amanda, who also happened to be on the cheerleading squad, was happy to oblige. I stood near, but not next to, Suze.

'First, reach for the sky,' Amanda chirped, as she lifted her hands in the air to stretch, exposing her stomach.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

I used my peripheral vision to glance at Suze. She looked around nervously before assuming the position.

Stretches. Well. Logical enough. When I looked around, Paul's eyes weren't on me. But they looked like they HAD been. I could tell. I could still see the coldness there. And it made me feel kind of sick in the stomach.

We stretched. And then we all jogged around the court five times. And then Paul picked up his racket again. And my mouth, Sahara dry, when even drier.

'Okay, let's begin,' I started. Everyone looked ready, except for Suze who looked winded from our light jog.

If she's tired now, she ain't seen nothing yet. She doesn't know the true definition of tired. I'll show her. I'll wear her out.

'We're going to run a few drills,' I said bouncing the ball a few times. 'I'd like to ask . . . ' I paused, my eyes roaming over the team for my first victim. My eyes rested on her with no mercy.

' . . . Suze. Come on down.' I motioned for her with a jerk of my head. She stepped up nervously, tugging at her uniform.

I walked over to the tennis pitching machine, and set it for 45 mph.

This outta be good.

I flashed Suze a smile that showed 100 percent innocence.

'I'd like you, Suze – ' to take off your shirt, ' - to demonstrate for the rest of the team how you swing. Don't worry, you'll all get a turn at the machine.'

She stared up at me for a moment, not budging. I took her racket and placed it in her hands.

'C'mon, Suze, we don't have all day,' I said purposefully loud.

She reluctantly took her position, and I took mine behind the machine.

'On the count of five, I'll push the button. One . . . . two . . . '

Then I pushed it.

WHOOOSH, it went straight past her, faster than a speeding bullet.

WHOA!

I jumped back in alarm. 'That was too fast - ' I said in panic. Some of the girls were laughing at me.

'You're supposed to hit it, Suze,' I informed her emotionlessly. 'Let's try this again.'

She looked at the girls tittering behind her, and then looked at me with her pleading emerald eyes.

It was almost as if she knew my game.

Well, it's about to get a lot rougher. Especially since I was still angry at her.

What? My night sucked because of her. We could have gone to third base.

Before I pushed the button, I clicked the setting to shooting two balls. I pushed the go button, and the two balls flew so fast, but instead of whooshing past, one of them hit her on the leg and the other one just narrowly missed her arm.

OW -

Half of the people watching cracked up. The rest were giving Paul questioning looks.

I crouched down and put pressure on my shin. It was REALLY hurting. I wanted to should profanities at him till the cows came home, but I didn't want everyone to know that he was the reason I was wearing a turtle-neck.

I gave him my coldest glare, only to be replied with a subtle little smirk that declared both bitterness and satisfaction.

My shin hurt BAD.

But I kept it to myself.

Worriedly, I stood up, and winced at the pain in my leg.

I didn't look at him again.

'Looks like someone could use some practice,' I told her. I know I was sounding like a total ass. But that's all she thinks I am anyway. What does it matter, then?

I stared at the ground. This guy - Justin - asked if I was all right. I shrugged him off, like the stupid bitch I am.

Suze limped off to the side, with a concerned Justin Flemming by her side. She ignored him, reserving her usual pin-like glares for the ground instead of for me.

I felt a pang of something. Something . . . like I felt bad for what I was doing. Guilt?

Nah. As far as I was concerned, she deserved all of it. She made me feel so low . . . lower than I'd ever been in my entire life.

Part of me wanted to bring her down with me and leave her there as I climbed back up. But the other part of me wanted to . . .

. . . well, bring her back up with me. Forget about the whole thing, and start over.

That had been what I wanted from Suze since the whole first time I left her stranded in Shadowland. A second chance.

The least I could do was throw her one too, right?

. . . Or keep chucking tennis balls at her until she realizes whose court she's playing in.

The next order of business . . . 'Let's pair off, shall we?'

Just then, a swarm of girls from the women's team crowded around me. I strained a glance in Suze's direction. It was hard to do, especially with all the girls around.

'You wanna buddy-up?' Justin asked Suze, re-adjusting his glasses.

I nodded. 'Okay - '

Oh, that was interesting.

'I'm sorry, ladies. I can't be all of your partners,' I raised my voice, so Suze could hear. 'And besides, I need to observe. To see how you are all doing.'

There was a collective, 'Aww.'

'Don't worry. I'll be watching.'

I threw a quick wink at Suze, who looked at me in disbelief.

My God . . . he is such an arrogant, conceited, retarded jerk from hell . . .

I gave Justin - Justin Flemming, I think - a watery smile, and stood at the opposite end of the court from him. I looked down at my shin. It was bright red where the ball had struck it.

'Ready?' Justin called with a grin.

'Uh huh,' I said, not as loudly.

He smacked the tennis ball to me. I smacked it back -

'Hold it,' I called to Suze mid-swing. She had already smacked the ball, which managed to strike Justin . . . yeah.

Looks like Suze ALWAYS has an effect on a man in that area, in one way or another.

Justin shouted from the other end, 'I'm okay,' his voice more high-pitched than usual. He tried to stand up clumsily, but he was still wincing.

'You could really hurt someone with that swing of yours,' I told her.

Don't tempt me . . .

'I swear, I'm f-i-ine,' Justin stuttered.

'Try being a little more gentle. You never know what you might break next time,' I advised, my words dripping with double meaning. 'You know, maybe you're really not as good at this game as I thought – '

I spun around. 'Fuck off,' I said under my breath.

Which, you know, isn't all that good when you're talking to the Tennis Captain.

'Flemming, go to the nurse,' I said to him over my shoulder. Then, I turned to Suze and continued with the subtlest smirk. 'I'll take care of Suze from here . . .'

A violent shiver ran through me.

'What I like about tennis, Suze, is that it's more of a game of the mind than it is an actual sport,' I told her. 'You have to know what you want, where it's at, and how to get there.'

I held the tennis ball in front her.

'You don't just strike at anything that comes to you. Hit it with grace. Just know that it'll always come back to you, in the end, even if you have to chase after it.'

Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

I grabbed the ball out of his hand bitterly, and jogged to the other side of the court. Easier said than done; my leg was murder.

'Remember, Suze, it'll keep coming back to you,' I reminded her.

Just like you keep coming back to me.

'You better watch for it.'

When no one was looking, I gave him a hand gesture that society seems to have a little PROBLEM with. Honestly. It's only a little finger. I can't imagine why.

Then I hit the ball, as hard as I could at him.

I hit it back to her in one smooth motion. Suze looked very determined. And very cute, might I add. Even WITH the turtle neck on. Though it hid her neck, it didn't hide some of her other well-developed attributes, if you know what I mean.

'You know, I wish that we were like a tennis match,' I mused.

'What?' I snapped at him.

'Our interaction. I hit the ball to you, you reciprocate. I wish it were like that with us.'

'Well it's not,' I said bitterly. 'Thanks to you, I'm not having any tennis matches with anyone.'

'I offered, but you didn't want to play,' I told her, as I hit the ball in her court.

'Tennis isn't my thing,' I said angrily.

'That's a shame,' I smirked. 'You're a natural.'

With that, I caught the ball she'd hit to me in my hand and sauntered over to her court.

'What do you say?' I asked her, my shadow casting off the little light that the clouded sky put out. 'How about another match?'

I trailed a single finger up her arm.

I looked away sharply. Jesse was still weighing heavily on my heart. Two of the girls had stopped playing, and were whispering at me and Paul. And my shin was throbbing.

'Go to hell,' I jerked back.

Ouch.

Suddenly, I felt something that hurt much more than Suze's shin or Justin's, um, sensitive area. That only lasted a second though, and then the next phase set in.

Stark-raving-madness.

'Fine,' I countered angrily. 'I'll see you there.' I lowered my racket. 'You really shouldn't talk like that to the team captain,' I hissed rather loudly to Suze, in hopes others would hear. 'Coach appointed me, after all, to assist the team. If you can't be a team player on your own, I'm going to have to make you become one. You can start by doing 50 push ups and finish off by cleaning everyone's uniforms, since you forgot yours.'

Two words: no mercy.

'No way,' I said with an uncomfortable laugh.

'There's some Clorox in the gym's storage closet. Those uniforms had better be whiter than the freaking snow when you're through with them. Otherwise, coach will have to hear about your misconduct and he might just do something rash. Like kick you off the team. What would your mother say about that, Suze?'

Just leave. Just . . . walk . . . away . . .

. . . My mum would kill me.

'Or,' I lowered my voice so it was just a hiss in her ear, 'I'll drop a hint that you've been going around saying you can "see the dead." And mom would just looooooooove that, wouldn't she?'

With the iciest look, I stood frozen for about thirty seconds, with his eyes boring into mine. Everyone was watching me.

Then, I got to my knees, leant down on my hands, and started doing push ups on the ground. My face was burning with humiliation.

Feeling a burst of satisfaction, not to mention POWER, I commanded, 'Count.'

'Oh shut UP, I'm already - ' I started, but I bit down my fury.

'. . . Five . . . six . . . seven . . . '

Some girls were laughing at me.

Paul was crucifying me.

She was doing a pretty good job. She was obviously in some kind of shape.

I wanted her to hurt. So bad that her arms would fall off. I wanted her to beg for me to let her stop. I wanted the pain I felt to manifest itself in her physically.

'I can't hear you. Start over,' I said, a grin of smugness wiping over my face, 'and this time, say it loudly, or I'll make you begin again.'

I was up to twenty two when he said that. I stopped. My arms were starting to ache. I wish that everyone would keep playing . . . why did they have to watch?

And laugh?

'ONE. TWO. THREE . . . ' I half-yelled. Nothing was worth this. This was mortifying.

I watched on, along with the rest of the team. Even Flemming, who had returned from the nurse with an ice-pack, looked on.

Suze struggled with her pushups. Right after she hit fifty, her arms gave out and she fell.

'That's a wrap, team; it's gonna rain,' I called to everyone as I swung my racket over my shoulder. I looked up at the sky. The clouds were dark, now. I lead them off the court, but not before calling to Suze, who was still on the ground recovering,

'I hope you saved your strength. You're going to need it for washing the uniforms.'

I lay on the bitumen, breathing hard. My arms were breaking, over and over again. I mean . . . I'm not UNFIT, but a lot more than just my weight had been pressing me down each time I performed a push up.

I was wallowing in shame. My face was searing with the most intense embarrassment. With effort that didn't exist anymore, I stood up, and could not meet Paul's eyes.

Everyone had gone off the court. Paul was waiting for me. No longer did he look like a fellow shifter with whom I had shared a handful of accidental kisses. No way.

He looked like a tyrant. One who was enjoying his reign of terror thoroughly. I didn't dare look at him directly.

I watched her as she struggled to her feet. I noticed a red mark on her shin where the ball had hit her earlier. It was almost as red, if I'm not mistaken, as a certain mark on her neck, which she tried to hide.

She thought she was above me. What about now? She couldn't hide the control I had over her from her very own teammates.

I found one breaking point. And now I needed another.

One that would disable her from hiding certain other feelings. Ones associated with her heart, me, and maybe in the future, my bed.

Everyone went to go get changed out of their uniform. I couldn't believe that it was quarter to five already.

I followed Paul into the P.E. office in silence.

I pulled some Clorox Bleach from the closet and handed her a small toothbrush to go with it, so she could spot-treat the uniforms.

She scowled and grabbed the toothbrush from my hand. I gave her a cold look, but she looked away and didn't see it.

Outside, I heard the gentle pattering of rain. Oh, great. There went my walking-home plan. considering last time I got accosted by a serial killer and was nearly forced into the most unattractive bathing suit ever, I was pretty against the whole walking-home-in-the-rain scenario.

I moved away from him totally, grabbed the stupid bleach, sat next to the pile of uniforms, and pulled the first one bitterly on my lap -

I looked at the toothbrush in annoyance, and then at the top.

'Paul,' I groaned, 'These are clean. They don't need bleaching.'

'They're not clean enough,' I replied, handing her the bottle of bleach.

Yes, I knew they were clean. In fact, the uniforms were brand new. I didn't like playing in crispy, new uniforms. I liked playing in ones that'd been washed out and worn.

Kind of like Suze.

Plus, I enjoyed watching her scrub out non-existent stains with her little toothbrush. Highly amusing, I must say.

'Fine,' I said acidly. 'You show me one spot that is dirty then.'

Dare she talk back to me? I think she just did.

Angrily, I grabbed the uniform from her hand and threw it on the floor. I mashed it into the tile with my foot.

'Try that one,' I hissed. She stared up at me with wide, shocked eyes. Like a deer in headlights.

'I said CLEAN it. Don't just sit there and stare at me. Pick the damn thing up,' I yelled at her.

'NO!' I shouted back at him in an enraged rebellion.

I didn't have to do this. No way.

I stood up rapidly, and brushed past him, banging into his shoulder hard. 'I'm outta here,' I snapped. I opened the door of the office, and instantly a roar of rain met my ears.

It was pouring.

. . . And I was wearing white.

I stood facing it in total, utter dismay.

She tried to get out but the rain was pouring so hard, it looked like it would hurt like little bullets penetrating your skin. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, accompanied by a thunderous boom.

'Don't you dare,' I shouted. 'There's nowhere else to go, unless you want to get KILLED out there. But then again, that puts you in good company with your little BOYFRIEND, doesn't it?'

I stared out into the rain, crestfallen and victimized. It looked pretty lethal. No wonder Paul had called off the lesson early.

This was so not fair . . .

'Why are you doing this?' I asked quietly, but loudly enough to be heard over the furious rage of the rain.

'Stop asking frigging questions and get to work.'

I didn't feel like answering. I thought she knew why I was doing all this. She'd ruined me, just like I ruined that brand new uniform. She threw me to the ground, stepped on me, and let the dirt from the ground collect on me.

And she acts like I'M not being fair?

I guess it was a little hasty, turning around and punching him and all. I didn't know what happened to me. One minute, I was standing there, looking as the rain crashed on the concrete outside like thousands of fallen angels. And when he spoke again, I snapped.

And I really let him have one, right in the solar plexus.

Ouch. She let me have it. And I was about ready to strike her back (nothing FATAL,) when I saw the look in her eyes.

It disgusted me. And not because of how her eyes looked. It was how that look made me feel, completely and utterly wretched. A poisonous mixture of hurt, guilt, pain, anger, frustration, want, need, and most deadly of all, power.

Instead of hitting her, I threw her against the door of the storage closet.

I pushed my body against hers, ignoring the usual pleasure the collision of our bodies usually caused in me. Instead, I cut her with my glass eyes. The thunder was booming dangerously in the background.

And that, my friends, is why you never hit Paul Slater.

Especially when no one's watching.

'Don't you TOUCH me - ' I squeaked, suddenly scared. My heart thudded so, so, so, SO FAST.

'Don't worry,' I spat, not moving from my spot, if not shoving her harder against the closet. 'I don't want ANYTHING to do with you. I hope you're happy, you –'

BZZZzzt.

And that's when the power decided go out.