--Finally, we get into the movie! I don't own Casey, Zeke, Marybeth, the aliens, or anything else to do with The Faculty. I only own Sam… infact, let's just put it this way: If it's familiar to you: I don't own it…--

But under skinned knees
And the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn
You howl and listen
Listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who wont return…
– from Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon

Thursday – Alone girl running along the sidewalk, moving closer and closer to the scattered crowd, everyone was heading with one and the same destination: the high school.

Sam ran as fast as she could, while trying to keep the two straps of her backpack on one shoulder. She was late, she knew it; she'd slept in because her cat had unplugged her alarm clock and she'd missed the buss and her parents leave for work at the ass crack of dawn every morning so she'd had to run to school.

She wasn't so late that it'd already started yet, or that she'd have to dash straight into her seat to still be on time, but she was too late to be there before the shit heads could get to Casey.

… She'd just had these really weird dreams…

Dreams of being under water … and no matter how hard she tried to swim she couldn't move. It was as if she wasn't in control of herself at all… and she wasn't the only one. Everyone was there… everyone was drowning.

Sam was dressed in a red camisole and skirt, like Erika in The Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows. She turned the corner and jogged up the path that led to the front doors, but stopped at the foot of the steps. Panting, she surveyed the crowd, looking for that head of soft brown hair, over-sized blue eyes, and spiffy-looking camera he seemed constantly attached to.

After a long run-over, she didn't see him… but she did see Stokely, who had bumped into, and was now walking away from after a snappy comment towards, Stan.

"Stokely," she spoke the Goth girl's name and grasped her arm. "Hey, have you seen–"

"Boys' bathroom…" Stokely muttered, yanking her arm free ofSam's grasp and pushing past her to head onto her locker and then first glass.

"Oh shit," Sam breathed, knowing exactly what that meant, and hurried on inside the building.

As Sam neared the boys' bathroom, she realized that the only reasoned she'd ever entered one before, and probably the only reason she'd ever enter one again, was when Casey got beat up.

It was never a cheery situation.

She looked inside quickly but threw herself back against the wall a second afterward. Zeke was in there… she'd never been acquainted with him, and never wanted to. Drug dealers just weren't her people… and it was obvious he was selling, because two guys with reps for being brain dead stoners were standing right in front of him.

She waited quietly, listening to one of the stoners bickering something about whether or not "this" looked like him, and then Zeke said something about "scat" and that it was "guaranteed to jack you up"… all well and dandy… moments later, they wrapped it up and the two stoners left. Sam wasn't sure if Zeke had left with them or not, having hid before the door where they couldn't see her, so she stepped out and peaked in the bathroom. Zeke was still there. Sam jerked away, but he had already seen her.

"Hey," he said. "I know you…" and Sam peaked her head out into the doorway. "You're the chick who out bitched Delilah." And with that he offered her a handsome smile.

"Sam Warren…" she said reluctantly. "And can't you get some new news? That happened like two months ago for fuck's sake…

"Sam," he said her name, as though tasting it. "… I'm Zeke–"

"I know who you are," She interrupted. "Everybody does."

"Oh…" there was a pause between the two for a long moment, before he spoke again. "… So… you wanna buy?"

"Nope," Sam replied. "I blow enough brain cells when I'm not on school grounds, thank-you-very-much."

"You sure?"
"Duh."

"Suit yourself, Samantha."

"Don't call me that…"

"Why?" he looked up at her again.

"Because I said so–" but Sam was interrupted by the first bell rang out through the halls, signaling that classes were starting now.

Zeke stuffed his hands in his pockets and pushed past her into the hall, looking back for a moment and saying, "Good luck with those brain cells, Sam," and walking away.

"Bye," Sam muttered, watched him until he was half way down the hall from her, and then turned back into the room and walked over to the first stall. She looked down the line, but had no idea which one Casey was hiding in.

"Case," she called. "It's me… we're alone now… where are you?"

A pause, then: "… In here," his voice was very soft, and muffled slightly from behind the door of the stall, and she heard the lock click open seconds afterward.

She rushed over to the door, half relieved yet still half worried, pushed it open, stepped in, then slammed it shut and turned back to Casey.

He was huddled in one corner, holding a tissue to his bleeding nose; his eyes were dim and hurt as they always were after he got beat up.

"Casey, I'm sorry," she said with genuine sympathy, setting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "… What did they do to you?"

"Oh, you know," Casey said bitterly, switching wods of tissue and throwing the already bloodied one in the toilette. "The same old routine… flag pole and all."

"How bad's your nose? Do you think you should go to the nurse?"

Casey shook his head. "No," he groaned.

Sam sighed sadly. "… Well, c'mon then, let's get you to class."

Casey fidgeted and then shook off Sam's hand, threw the tissue from his nose away again, and checked it quickly to see if it was still bleeding. It wasn't. He grabbed up his bag and said weakly: "Alright," and followed her out of the boys' bathroom as the second bell rang loudly through the halls.

Throughout first period, Casey seemed and looked very withdrawn, like he wasn't there, and distant, like he couldn't bear to be there. Throughout second, he slowly began to drift back into the world, and by the end of third he was pretty much his normal self again.

Sam watched him, she kept remembering her dream… she'd seen him drowning… he'd been the only one who could struggle, but it was as if something or someone was holding him back, and he'd been so close to her… so close… if only she could just give him a little push towards the surface…

She couldn't shake the eerie feelings, but she did forget about them mostly by lunchtime.

Outside the sun was high and warm… not bad at all for the time of year. Students bustled around, laughing and yelling, some teasing those with lower social statuses, and some making out.

Casey and Sam sat at a table alone, as always, where they could see Stokely from afar, but not on purpose; it just kind of happened. They talked and laughed about silly things, and by the time Sam had reached her main course of a tuna fish sandwich she couldn't have remembered what had bothered her so much if she tried.

Chewing, she looked at Casey, who was chewing and looking at her, too. She stopped, and opened her mouth, displaying her chewed up food. Casey grimaced, but quickly caught on, and showed her his chewed up food in the same childish manner.

Sam put a hand in front her mouth and said, "Wanna trade?"

Casey snorted, spat out his food so he wouldn't choke, and began laughing his high pitch little number. Sam swallowed her food and began to laugh, as well. That was an even better reaction then she'd expected!

After a few minutes they quieted down, and Casey finish his potato salad, stood up, stuffed the trash from his meal into the brown paper bag it had come in, rolled that shut, stuffed that in his backpack, grabbed his juice box, and stepped over the bench.

"I'm going for a walk," he reported.

Sam tipped her head back and to the side to look at him, still holding the half of her sandwich that was left in two hands like a squirrel chewing on a nut.

"'Kay," she said.

He gave her a bright smile – looking remarkably better then he had this morning (though I doubt he would have been able to survive the horror of high school if he hadn't had the capability to bounce back) – and then walked off.

Alone and in silence – save for the occasional particularly loud scream from the peons – she finished her sandwich, then cleaned up the leftovers, stood up, and brushed her clothes off. She stuffed the leftover food, chocolate milk cartoon, ECT into a little baggy and began the trip of walking a crossed the courtyard to throw it away.

As she strode slowly down the path she looked around her. Two jocks screaming and yelling about how they're going to "kick ass" at tomorrow night's game, a group of girls that looked like Delilah's kind of crowd giggling and shrieking about some "hotty" that "Laura" is now dating, two unhappy looking boys and an unhappy looking girl sitting in random ways (all showing off horrible I-Don't-Care-Because-I-Hate-The-World posture) and listening to trash metal pouring out of a boom box, that one couple that no one really knew the names of that was constantly fighting. At that moment, Delilah walked past Sam without even shooting her a glance. Sam grimaced and thanked god that Casey wasn't here with her right now… she hated the look he got whenever Delilah was around. Hated it! She turned her attention back to the people surrounding her, not wanting to think about that anymore… there was a lonely girl wandering around looking sad like her boyfriend just broke up with her, a––

Sam stopped short as she crashed in to someone.

"Sorry!" the word burst out of Sam's mouth as if on reflex.

The person she walked into giggled. "It's just fine," said the girl. She had a weird accident… Sam looked up at her; she'd never seen her before…

SHE'S SWIMMING…

"I'm Marybeth Louise Hutchinson of Atlanta."

She's swimming…she can move… but she's not heading towards the surface… and… she's not trying to help anyone.

"Sam… Warren." Sam forced her voice to come out. "… Of Jersey."

"Oh, are you new here, too?" Marybeth smiled, as sweet as honey.

"I was a few weeks ago… but not anymore."

"What class you got next?"

"Biology."

Now Marybeth seemed ecstatic. "Me, too!" She seemed as though she was going to say more, but a voice from behind Sam's back made them both turn.

"Sam," It was Casey.

"Hey, Case," Sam smiled.

"I found something strange on the football field," Casey said, extending out his hand to her.

"Does finding you on the football field count?" Sam asked as she looked at what he held. "Ew… sticky… what is it?"

"I don't know," replied Casey matter-of-factly. "I was thinking of taking it to Mr. Furlong and asking him."

"Ya'll mind if I come with you?" asked Marybeth quietly. "I'm new here, so I don't know my way around very well…"

"Um, sure," Casey said hesitantly. He was still afraid of people… no matter what amount of friendship that Sam could give would change that.

"Well then let's go," Sam said in a cheerful voice like Glenda the Good Witch.