A/n: This intro is from For Good in the musical Wicked hardcore shit people, check it out.

Wishes Don't Come True

Chapter Three

I've hear it said that people come into our lives for a reason

Bringing something we must learn and we are lead to those that help us most to grow

If we let them, and we help them in return.

We all crowd onto the bus, the voices of my peers mingling until I can not pick one out of the many. I pick an empty seat next to a window, and lay my hand against the cold glass. Running a hand through my hair, I hope the ride will be fast. I've been looking forward to MONA for weeks.

I close my eyes, and eventually the seat beside me is taken. I do not glance at who is beside me. I feel into my bag for my CD player, and I slip on of the earphones in to my ear. The music booms into my eardrum, and I wonder what kind of irreversible damage I'm doing to it, this very second.

"Hey." The voice near my exposed ear makes me jump away from the window, and my eyes shoot open. The newest Goth chick is facing me, her face almost contorted into a smile, if Goths are even allowed that simple pleasure. Why is she sitting with me, I wonder, the thought drifting lazily through my mind. It exits as smoothly and quickly as it came in.

"Er, hello." Having said that, I close my eyes again, and I return to my music. The girl seems to give up, and she doesn't say anything else to me the rest of the ride. Once we're out of the bus, my chaperone herds us all to the door. Unfortunately Suzz is in my group. Is she stalking me or something? Can I not avoid her?

As well as the Goth girl, there's a male Goth, some guy and some other guy. I dismiss them, and I wonder when we will get to see the dinosaurs. The huge dinosaur in the middle of the room we begin in is enchanting enough. I stare at it in wonder, and all my childhood imagings come flooding back to me.

I used to pretend I was a dinosaur. "I wonder if I'll ever find that Calvinosaurus," I mutter to myself, pretending for a moment things are how they were.

"And what would you do with such a discovery? No doubt make enough money to bully everyone into worshiping you." It's that girl again. I turn to face her, pissed off and ready to give her a piece of my mind. Anything to make her go away.

By the time I turn to look at her, I realize I can't. It's Susie Derkin. I can hide behind stupid ignorance all I like, but I knew from the moment I saw her that she is the small little girl that I would gross out with my lunch, throw snowballs at and tease incessantly.

I grin at her. I can't help it. I've been pretending all these years that things are still the same. It's as if God sent her to me as a sign. To show me things are the same. Those would be good feelings . . . if I weren't an atheist.

"Why, of course. All those leaders, kings and presidents alike, were all leading up to me, after all. What, you thought they lived and died for the heck of it?" I laugh, and I feel good again. It feels good, to laugh wholeheartedly, something I'm not sure I've done for years.

She laughs with me. "It is you! I. . .I knew I knew you from somewhere!" To moves towards me as if she's going to hug me, and I prepare myself for it. Hugs have been scarce for several years now. But at the last moment she looks over her shoulder, and takes a step back.

This small action is a dagger in my heart. A real, true reminder of the years we haven't been together. I haven't seen her since fourth grade! What the fuck am I doing, expecting her to welcome be back as if we're friends again.

The last time I saw her was . . . that day I left. That day I saw her cry. I find my chest aching as all the memories are coming back. Fuck, Susie isn't back as a messenger from God. She's here as a gift from Lucifer. She's here to make my life at school a Hell on earth.

"Hello, Susie," I answer simply. I can't think of a better response. Her eyes drop to the ground and the studies the intricate designs on the tiles on the ground carefully.

"Well, about that Calvin. I don't go by Susie anymore. I mean, what sixteen year old girl with any sense would?" She looks up at me, as if fully expecting me to nod passionately in agreement. But my head remains still, and I shrug my shoulders instead.

"A sixteen year old who doesn't care what people think." The underlining insult is not lost on her; I can see it in her shocked and angry expression. Oh, the expressions on people's faces when someone is brave enough to tell them all about themselves. There's no beauty like it, not in Michelangelo's sculptures, not on Goya's canvas, not in Wilde's words.

Except this is Susie. The goddamn guilt. I give her a smile. But it's too late, and my mouth has once again beaten my brain in a race to the outcome. "Do you think I care what people think? Huh? God, you think I'm some sort of conformist?!" She says conformist as if it's the worst insult a human being could ever utter.

"That's not what I said," I say gently, trying to fix this. But she's in a rage now, and for a second I can not do anything but look at her, and gaze in awe at how lovely she looks when she's angry.

"God, what are you? With your fucking drawings? I bet you think you're so much better than everyone else. I bet you go around saying, 'Don't label me, I'm not a can!' Well, guess what? That's what people do. It's what people are. Whether it's inbred or society, I don't know. But don't say I care what people think. I don't! I'm my own person, alright?!" She manages to say these things at a certain volume. No one three feet away would have understood a word.

I can help it. I can't hold it in. I laugh. I close my eyes and I give out a hoot. "I'm sorry; I'm not laughing at you," I gasp between chuckles, but Susie's not convinced. She glares at me angrily, and I know I've made things worse. "Okay, then. Prove to me that you don't care what people think!" As I try to silence my laughter, I strain to think up a way for Susie to prove herself.

"Ah ha! Recite dinosaur facts with me!" I say this proudly, glad to have finally found something torture her with.

"Oh please," she says, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "How does that possibly prove I don't care?"

"You have to say them loud and proud, luv." I watch her carefully, and though she tries to hide it, I catch how her eyes widen, just a smidge, as she realizes what she's gotten herself into.

"I can do that," her voice displaying courage her eyes don't seem to show. I grin at her and she frowns at me, her arms folding over the chest in a gesture that is the polar opposite of the hug she almost gave me. "Don't call me luv."

"Okay, Suzz." I almost laugh again, but I manage to smother it. I hesitate for a moment, but I quickly make a choice. I pull her to me with an arm around her shoulders. I feel her stiffen, and I almost pull away. But I manage to make her tow towards where the rest of the group is.

I feel a thump in my chest, being so close to Susie. But I've got to make it nonchalant. I mean, she does have a boyfriend. But it's nothing, I repeat to myself. I'm an old friend who's teasing her. Friends touch, it's impossible to prevent that. So why do I feel so chilled?

I'm getting writer's block already. I know what I want to happen next but I can't quite write it out. So if it take a little while to get the next chapter up, you know why.

OH AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS even though it's not exmas, or hannakuh, or yule or. . anything anymore. . .oh well