If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I'm alive and well, will you be
There holding my hand
I'll keep you by my side
With my superhuman might
Kryptonite
– from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Half an hour later, more of less, both Casey and Sam would find themselves once again surrounded by that school…

Casey arrived first, and told his parents that he wanted to wait out on the steps there for Sam… and a few minutes later, she arrived with her parents, too. The Warrens' introduced themselves to the Connors' and visa versa. When all that was said and done; the two groups joined into one with Sam and Casey leading the way. They walked through the halls until they reached the police; two officers, standing in front of the door to the faculty lounge… and Principle Drake.

Sam avoided the officer's eyes as they stepped into the lounge. Mrs. Olson and Coach Willis were in there…

"… I'm afraid we had a little mix up today," Ms. Drake was saying.

"In here," sighed the cop, gesturing towards the closet.

"Yes," Casey nodded.

"The body was in the closet," Sam confirmed.

"And why would Mrs. Brummel be in the closet?" Mrs. Drake asked, arching a brow.

"Because they killed her," Casey said, his eyes darting at the Coach and Olson but his head posed towards the officer and Drake.

"Oh, that's right," Drake laughed.

"Hey Casey, Sam!" quipped Coach Willis as he stood up. "Sorry about that little mix up… didn't mean to scare you."

"Apparently there's been a misunderstanding," Ms. Drake said idly.

"Wouldn't count on it," said Sam, looking up a little.

"But… What were they doing in the closet?" asked Mr. Warren, scratching his thinning black head of hair.

"Oh, how do I say this without sounding improper?" thought Mrs. Olson aloud. "Hmm… kissing? Making out?"

"Oh come on," declared Sam. "You're forgetting that Delilah was in there with us… think about Casey's social status here, does he really strike you as the kinda guy who could get in on a threesome? Especially with the head cheerleader as one of the bimbos?"

"Sam!" Mrs. Warren cried, her cheeks reddening, as she set a hand on her daughter's shoulder to shush her. Principle Drake smiled a little cruelly, and Casey was too distressed to be embarrassed.

Sam nudged closer to Casey and whispered just loud enough so that only the two of them could hear, "Sorry, Case, it had to be done…"

"Still, if we could just see in the closet?" asked Mr. Connor, looking at Ms. Drake.

"Certainly," she said, opening the door and gesturing for the cops to go right in. The male officer clicker on a flashlight and the female officer went inside… "It's a doll," they heard her say, and she came out holding just that.

"Meet Resuscitation Annie," Drake stated. "We use her to teach the kids CPR… although she does resemble Mrs. Brummel slightly."

"You dialed 911 for a dead doll?" The male cop asked Casey, raising an eyebrow at both of them.

"No!" Sam snapped.

"That wasn't there! They put it there!" Casey cried, his words chasing Sam's. He shot a glance at her for help.

"Look, we're not making this up." Sam said, not looking up from the doll. There was a body in there… not a doll… she saw it with her own two eyes… a dead, rotting body with a chunk of its skull missing… definitely not a doll.

"Call Delilah, she'll tell you," Casey pleaded. "She was here with us, she saw it, too."

"We called, she isn't home," said the male officer.

"Well the two of us saw it," Sam defended. "They attacked Nurse Harper!"

"Nurse Harper is epileptic; she's prone to go off." Drake argued.

"She was having an attack," Coach Willis agreed.

"Luckily she carries her medicine in her bag so we were able to help her," said Olson.

"We think it was brought on by the terrible cold she's had. I took her home myself. You can call her if you like." Mrs. Drake finished.

"Well, it is procedure," said the male cop.

"You can use the phone if my office," said Drake, already walking in that direction. She closed the door behind the officer…

"You know, that was some fast running you did down the hall, son," said the coach, looking at Casey with a small smile. "We could sure use your speed. There's a lot of chasin' on the field."

"Hear that Case?" said Mr. Connor, nudging his son's shoulder. "He said you got speed."

"Thank you," Casey said, quieter then he'd said anything yet.

Sam jumped and grabbed Casey's arm, and both teenagers flicked their eyes over to the door of Drake's officer as they heard a thump inside… they were on pins and needles for a moment until the door opened and the officer and Ms. Drake – buttoning up her jacket – waltzed out again.

"Well we've just spoken to both Mrs. Brummel and Nurse Harper," Drake reported, stalking sexily over to the little group of people.

Casey store at the cops face for a moment, before he whispered to Sam the same way she had whispered to him. He said, "They got him…"

The cop frowned at them and said, "Nothing here; just two kids lookin' for some attention. Let's go." The female cop nodded, and they left together. Sam watched them, mouth hanging open in disbelief, as they brushing past the teenagers and their parents without a word.

When they were gone, Mrs. Connor turned back to Casey. "Evelyn knows someone downtown," she said sheepishly. Casey's eyes grew wide and, perhaps, frightened. "A professional…"

"He's a straight A student and now he needs a professional?" scoffed Mr. Connor. "For Christ's sakes…"

"He doesn't need a shrink," Sam hissed, ignoring it when her mother tried to silence her by setting a hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. "I saw it, too… If it were a bloody hallucination or something only he would have seen it!"

"I am so sorry, Ms. Drake," said Mrs. Connor, ignoring Sam.

"Yes," agreed Mrs. Warren. "But it wont happen again."

Drake said, "Maybe if we spoke privately in my office we could–"

"No!" Casey shouted, and everyone looked at him. "No… Mom, uh… maybe you're right, maybe I should see this woman, this doctor. Can we just go? Please?" he looked so pitiful when he begged…

"Alright," Mrs. Connor sighed. "Thank you, but we'll handle this at home. Sorry again for the trouble."

"What about you, Mrs. Warren?" asked Drake, gesturing towards Sam's mother.

"Mommy, please, no," Sam pleaded under her voice, looking at her mother desperately. "Please, please, let's just go home, please?"

"Sammy," Mrs. Warren laughed a little. "It's alright–"

"No, please, it's not," Sam begged, shaking her head.

Mrs. Warren sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Mrs. Drake; I'll just have to handle this with Sammy myself. Sorry for the inconvenience…"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

The adults shared their goodbyes and left the building. Sam watched Casey with nervous eyes the whole time, and when they hugged to say goodbye she never wanted to let go… and when both cars were separately heading towards different destinations, she spent the whole ride silently praying that he would be safe.

That night, Sam, in her pajamas of choice (ringer tee, super short shorts, and bare feet) paced the floor of her room over and over again, back a forth, to and fro, ECT. She was edgy, and no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't figure out what was going on… and she was worried about Casey… it was driving her mad!

Finally, at a little after nine p.m., she cracked. She picked up the portable phone from the wall in the kitchen, carried it back to her room, and punched in the Connors' number. She threw herself down on her back on her bed and waited about four rings before someone answered.

"Hello?" It wasn't Casey.

"Hi," she tried to sound cheerful, but wasn't too convincing. "Can Casey come to the phone please?"

"Nope," said the male voice on the other end. "He's grounded."

"Grounded?" Sam blurted out. "Why?"

"… Say, aren't you the kid from the faculty closet today? Sall?"

"Sam," she corrected, fidgeting her shoulders. She wasn't at all fond of Casey's father.

"Oh," he seemed pleased now. "Then you should know exactly why he's grounded."

"For telling the truth?" she shot back. "For trusting you to trust him? Oh, yeah, how heinous. Charles Manson, move over!"

"Zip it, Warren," he said harshly. "You're not allowed around my son anymore, you hear that? Ever since he met you he's been acting all messed up! You're a bad influence on him; just stay away."

"A bad influence!" Sam shot to sit straight up. "What the fuck are you on–"

There was a click on the other end and the line went dead. Sam stared at the phone for a long moment, in disbelief, and then, in frustration she chucked it a crossed the room before throwing herself back down on her bed, not caring what happened to it or what it hit. She lied still – besides her blinking and breathing – until she heard the phone collide with something, clank around, and then come to a rest. Still in anger, she stretched her arm out above her head, grabbed her pillow, yanked it down to her, and hugged it tightly.

This couldn't be happening! They'd seen a dead woman, ran for their lives, pleaded with the police to believe them, been scorned by their parents as liars, thought to be skitzo and fucking like jack rabbits, and now they were going to be separated? They were all they had… They are all going to drown…

Friday – The next morning, Sam awoke like any other… hear the alarm clock squeal, push the cat off her face, get up, and try to remember what day it is.

She pulled some clothes out of her dresser and put on a caramel/­brown halter top, denim cut-off short shorts, and a gray hoodie with the red-lettered logo of some university on it, which was only about an inch shorter then the shorts. She also slipped on a pair of black sneakers on her way out of the house.

The entire time she dressed she was thinking about ditching school… she didn't want to go, didn't want to face the students and the crazy teachers and whatever they may want to do to her… and it wasn't like anyone was going to stop her; both her parents were far away at work and wouldn't be home until late.

But none of that mattered… she had to go… she had to go for Casey. She couldn't let him face this alone, because Lord knows Delilah would only care for saving her own pretty little ass.

Sam turned, left her room and walked down stairs. Once there; she fed the cat, read the note her mother had left on the refrigerator door ("Sammy, have a nice day at school! Dinner is on the second shelf on the left. – Mom")finished up some older homework rather then eating breakfast, which she was not at all compelled to do. She rolled her sleeves up and threw her hair up in a high pony tail, and then caught the bus.

The ride seemed too slow, and Casey wasn't on there like he usually was. Had they already gotten him? What could they have done to him? The moment the ride ended she grabbed up her bag and jogged into school, threw the backpack in her lockers, and went hunting for Casey. She found him just around the corner from their first period class.

"Casey!" she called from down the hall, waving her arm in the air. He turned slowly, spotted her, smiled, and rushed over. "I was scared; you weren't on the bus!"

"My Dad drove me…" Casey said, giving her a quick hug.

"Y'know, I called you last night," Sam said, and he turned a shade paler. "Your dad… said–"

"I know what he said," Casey interrupted her quietly. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen–"

"Casey, Samantha," they both turned to see that it was Delilah who was coming towards them. She wasn't warring any makeup and her hair was in a ponytail and she was warring glasses and straight legged jeans and, and, and…

"Oh… my… God." Sam said slowly.

"Whoa! Delilah, you look…" Casey began.

"Don't. Come on," Delilah sighed unhappily and grabbed Casey by the arm, Sam by the sleeve. She pulled them into the bathroom and into the first stall, clicking the lock shut, and then turned back to them. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as a voice through the speaker rang out.

"Your attention please. Would the following students please come to the office… James Upchabeta, Delilah Profitt, and Tina Downhouser."

"This is all your fault!" Delilah sighed, yanking her hair free. "Do you think I'm used to being called to the office?" She peaked through the little crack in the door. "They're after me…"

"There after all three of us," Casey said softly.

"Casey, get real," said Sam, her eyes narrowed as she grimaced in disgust. "You know the only one she cares about is herself."

Casey sighed and changed the subject before Delilah could reply. "Did you tell your parents?"

"My mom… wouldn't believe me, she drinks, sometimes, it's a nightmare," Delilah said quickly. "Look, we've got to go to the police."

"No," Casey countered. "I'm telling you, they've got the police!"

"We don't know what they've got," Delilah shot back.

"Look, you saw it," Sam snapped. "Mrs. Brummel was dead."

"And they attacked Nurse Harper," Casey finished in an exclamatory tone.

"They? Who are they?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Casey said, growing a bit frustrated.

Delilah scoffed.

"Whoever they are," Sam said surely. "They're after us… all of us."

"… Well, I'm not going to stay in the handicapped bathroom for the rest of my life," said Delilah, smacking the door open and stomping out towards the halls. Casey jumped up to follow her, and Sam followed him.

"Mind letting us in on your little plan?" Sam glared at Delilah.

"I'm going to find Stan," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Stan?" echoed Casey. "Why Stan?"

"You got a better idea?" Delilah snapped, looking over her shoulder at them. They were both silent for a long moment, before Casey whispered: "No, but I have an idea on someone else we can turn to."

Having accidentally isolated herself from everyone else in the school; Sam went with Casey. Delilah found Stan and pulled him away, once again swatting down any sort of wisecrack one would make about her new look. Casey and Sam looked around until they spotted the Goth girl and jogged up to her.

"Stokely, you got a minute? We need your help." Casey said, leading her away.