When Paul, Jack and I got back to the school, I totally shot out of that car in a huff. I was furious at Paul, and I believe that I had every right to be. I mean . . . he had TOTALLY interrogated me before. In an ALLEYWAY. That was like, SO rude. But you know what? I seriously think that he'd enjoyed it. You know, in some sadomasochistic way, because we all know that Paul is kind of lacking in the compassion department.
Yeah.
The way he'd made me feel, though . . . that had been the worst part of it. I mean, before I totally regarded myself as useless and pathetic. Now, I actually KNEW it. I mean, the way he'd been looking at me. Like, ". . . oh my God . . . When I dialed 1800-LOSERS-R-US I didn't expect to get someone THIS pathetic." Yeah. The worst. I was literally, scum. The pretty girl, with the pretty hair, with the pretty shitty life.
Paul had just confirmed it.
So yeah, I powered away from him. Seriously, the car ride home had been freakishly silent. Jack obviously suspected that Paul and I were not in a chatty mood, because he wasn't trying to gang up on me with his brother anymore. Thank God. Because, honestly, that would have been the last straw.
I can only stay sane for SO LONG, you know?
However, as I walked into the dining room, where everyone seemed to be hanging out – why, I don't know, I mean, there was more space than we could ever need, and EVERYTHING echoed in there, so if you were trying to tell someone a secret, chances are your whisper would bounce off the walls and inform everyone present that YES, YOU DID STILL WEAR NAPPIES or something – I met a very strange sight.
Jesse.
And Adam.
Playing poker.
I am not even kidding.
I blinked for a second, but no.
Jesse and Adam were seated at the end of the farthest table, each holding five cards each, and concentrating rather hard. The deck was piled next to Jesse's glowing arm, and there was a notepad and a pen lying next to Adam.
But . . . Jesse. And Adam. PLAYING POKER?
WAS THIS SOME CASINO, OR SOMETHING?! HAD FATHER DOM NOT BEEN PUT IN HOSPITAL JUST LAST NIGHT?! WHAT DID THEY THINK THEY WERE DOING, SEEING WHO COULD GET THE FIRST ROYAL FLUSH?!?!?!
As I stared in indignation, that a) I had not yet been noticed yet, and b) that they weren't working on finding the ghost(s) that haunted this place, something dawned on me.
Jesse's dead.
. . . Well, okay, I already KNEW that. But . . . Jesse was a ghost. Adam was alive. So . . . how could Adam and Jesse be communicating?
YEAH. AND GETTING PAIRS OF ACES.
'Show,' Adam said, and Jesse's hand obediently fell flat on the table. Adam frowned in polite disappointment. He'd had a pair of kings. Jesse had three of a kind, in eights, and two fives. Full house.
Just like this school. Waaaay too full. I totally wish we could evict Dani . . .
But still. COMMUNICATION WITH THE DEAD? That was MY turf! Well . . . and Paul's . . . and Jack's . . . and Dani's . . . and yeah, Father Dom's. So OKAY, I wasn't so SPECIAL. But STILL.
I decided to break up the guy's night, before they both popped out the cigars are requested Vodka-Martini-Shaken-Not-Stirred. Not that Jesse could smoke . . . or drink.
Side-effect of being kind of lifeless.
That and cadaver breath.
'Um, excuse me?' I demanded, putting my hands on my hips, 'What the hell are you doing?'
They didn't react much. I mean, there was no hasty packing up of the playing cards, they just both looked up at me in surprised, as if to say, "Oh . . . stork just dropped a baby from the sky . . .so, moving on?"
'We're playing cards, Susannah,' Jesse informed me.
'Wow, I would never have guessed that,' I said sarcastically.
'What did he say?' Adam wanted to know in irritation.
It was then when Paul and Jack walked in, grinning. But Paul took one look at Jesse, and a look of suppressed murder crossed his features, and he coughed, and walked out again, dragging little Jackie with him.
Um . . . okay . . . I thought I had issues.
I shook my head in confusion. 'H – how have the two of you been talking?' I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. Paul's interruption was forgotten.
Adam gave me a funny grin. He really was really good-looking now, in a totally goofy kind of way. I mean, his brunette hair was so nice and his teeth were great after ages of braces, and his smile was so sincere. He was a really decent guy. I could see why CeeCee was ditzy with happiness. I momentarily wondered where she was. Then I remembered earlier that she totally planned a whole day of researching.
'That was totally me. Yes, I am the resident genius. Easily, m'dear. We have been communicating through . . . the written word.'
When I still didn't get it, Jesse coughed, and handed me the notepad.
Oh. That.
'So,' I said to Adam, ignoring Jesse, 'You can't even see this weird guy that you happen to be playing poker with, and yet you're having a jolly old time?'
'Yes,' they both replied.
I noticed that Jesse's hair wasn't looking that shabby, either. In the warm light from the kitchen, and the sunlight that was flooding the room with golden rays, his hair seemed to gleam even more than the sleekness that his spectral glow provided him with. His crisp, jet-black hair curled at the nape of his neck, and his forehead was mildly wrinkled in concentration. However, he did turn to look at me, and his black eyes softened slightly. There seemed to be so many mysteries in his eyes . . . it totally wasn't fair. That I got stuck in a house with two totally unfathomable guys, I mean. One a successful intern who liked to flaunt his good luck in my face, and one a dead cowboy who was conveniently overlooking what his parting words to me had been.
". . . and do not expect me to be fooled by you again."
Just because HE'D obviously forgotten this little statement, I was NOT going to allow myself to disregard it.
He knew how wrong he'd been, and THAT'S why he wasn't mentioning it. Which was totally wussy of him. But you know, being a man and all, he didn't like to admit it when he was wrong.
Because he HAD been. Wrong, I mean. God, take one look at me, and he'd know pretty quickly that I hadn't been in love with Paul Slater. Um, ew? No, but Jesse was being a stupid jerk, and he just ASSUMED.
That was one of the biggest mistakes he ever made. As far as I was concerned, it came right after him agreeing to marry his COUSIN.
Again, um, ew?
'Would you like to join us, Susannah?' Jesse offered, being polite. I don't think he really meant it. And I certainly didn't think that I was going to say yes. Not after THAT train of thought.
But for some wacky reason, I just did. 'Uh . . . whatever.'
I suppose it was because I was trying to strike up this sense of competition with Jesse too. Why, I had no idea. I had nothing to prove to him. Everything he needed to know was right here, in front of him. How miserable his assumption had made me, what I'd let myself become because of his refusal to come with me . . .
And yet, I said I'd play.
Not just for a few smiles, either.
To win.
. . . Something. Oh, anything.
Adam looked annoyed. 'What did he say?' he shot at me. 'When you're here, he just talks to you and you talk back at him without me knowing what was said in the first place. It's really –'
'What would you like to play, Susannah?' Jesse continued. Nervously, I sat down beside Adam, and shrugged.
Then . . . a mean idea came to my mind.
So what if Jesse thought he put the GENTLE in GENTLEMAN. My game was going to introduce him to the lovely lingo of the twenty-first century.
'Bullshit,' I smiled.
Jesse's eyes, oh so predictably, widened in affront. Ha . . . oooh, I love my job.
'What? I was being serious – ' Adam began.
'Do not say such words, Father Dominic would disapprove – ' Jesse also started, but I cut him off irritably. 'Father Dom is in hospital with a head wound, Jesse. He isn't here. And for your information, I wasn't randomly spouting off curses, like you do in Spanish,' I added, and noticed with relish the small blush of his cheeks – which indicated that what he was saying was VERY bad – 'I was notifying you of the game in which I would like you to participate in. Bullshit.'
'Oh,' grinned Adam, and grabbed the cards to divide them.
Jesse was the one that now looked bewildered. 'Bull . . . '
'Go on,' I goaded, 'Say it. Do something . . . rebellious, Jesse. Say something bad. God knows, you've said some bad things in your time,' I drawled dryly. 'In writing, to be specific.'
Now I knew he was blushing. But this time, I had a feeling it wasn't in embarrassment, so much as shame.
Ashamed, he SHOULD be.
. . . That letter hadn't been bad. That has been The Worst.
By then, Adam had segregated the cards in three stacks. He passed one to me, and one to where he presumed Jesse was. He wasn't hearing, or understanding what was going on with Jesse and me. But silent messages as loud as cannon fires were flying between Jesse and I.
Part of me still hated him for what he did . . .
But I wasn't going to show it.
Jesse knit his eyebrows in confusion as he gazed down at his cards that he'd spread out before him in his hand. I noticed that Adam was still staring in wonder at the floating pieces of cardboard, wondering if still was all some kind of trick of the eye. Which was pretty cute. I mean, meeting a ghost like Jesse is always an experience, once you've got over the shock that we, in fact, have people among us who See Dead People.
SUCH a privilege, I'm sure.
'How do you play this game?' Jesse inquired of Adam, but forgot that Adam was oblivious to his questions.
I paused, before answering. 'Bullshit,' I said articulately, enjoying how he seemed to wince at my blasphemy, 'is a kick-ass game. You have to totally bluff everything. Say, I put down three cards, and said they were three sevens. You have to tell me whether I'm lying or not. Like, if you have two sevens in your hand, it's pretty obvious that I'm telling a big porkie.'
Jesse nodded faintly. 'Oh . . . I see.'
'And,' Adam contributed, not knowing whether this was enough information for Jesse or not, because again, he could see/hear/touch/smell him, 'If Suze was lying, and she got caught, then she has to keep all the cards in the pile. If no one says Bullshit, then the pile keeps growing as everyone gets their go,' he explained.
Jesse nodded in understanding and the game began, starting with Adam, who threw down a card and called it an ace. I only had one ace so I could only assume that Jesse must have had the others, so I didn't call Adam on it. Jesse shrugged and the game continued.
Jesse seemed to be catching on quite nicely. He hadn't once called anyone on a lie yet, but he seemed to grasp the concept of the game as it was played.
'Five eights,' Adam said as he plopped down five cards on the pile.
Wait a minute . . . that just isn't possible . . .
And I wasn't the only one that noticed. Jesse whipped his head unsurely at me, looking a bit confused at what to do. Of course, since I was a seasoned pro at Bullshit, having three stepbrothers and all, I knew exactly what to do . . .
'Bullshit,' I called, smiling victoriously at Jesse, who had totally missed an obvious chance. Beat that, cadaver breath! Jesse, however, hadn't seemed very phased at the chance he missed. He was still glancing at Adam in confusion, and he even touched the notepad in case he needed to ask questions.
But no questions needed to be asked here. Because I had just caught Adam in a lie. And now I would be ahead in the game.
'Adam, you are aware that there are only four of each card?' I asked him as I shoved the pile towards him. He grinned at me in a way I could only describe as mischievous and replied, 'I was just keeping you on your toes. And besides, there really are five eights. Check for yourself if you want . . . '
Jesse, his eyebrows knit in wonder, pulled the five cards from the top and I examined them from over his shoulder, careful to keep my space. There were, in fact, five eights. One heart, one spade, one club . . . and two diamonds.
'How can this be, Susannah?' Jesse inquired, scratching his head. I didn't answer him. Instead, I shot a glance at Adam, shaking my head.
'You little cheat!' I said, poking my finger at him playfully. 'You put in an extra card!'
Adam's smile turned crooked as he replied in great humor, 'Anything goes in this game. I mean, it practically gives you permission to lie, so I figured that maybe I could get away with some cheating as well. No one ever said this was a clean game.'
Jesse and I chuckled heartily at Adam's little prank. It was funny how someone that flunked Algebra freshman AND junior year in high school could be so clever.
Watch out. He might give Mr. Paul-don't-annoy-me-or-I-will-sue-you Slater a run for his money.
'I believe this,' Adam smirked as he shoved the pile of cards towards me, 'belongs to you, Miss Simon.'
And then, all of a sudden, I didn't think it was so funny anymore.
I had been all too eager to call Adam on his mistake before Jesse could. I had never even considered that Adam, the jokester of the century, would try anything. But that he did. He certainly pulled one over on me.
One that obviously made Jesse burst into peals of laughter. I mean, he could barely announce that the two cards he placed were nines.
Though, considering Jesse's inability to bend moral rules of any kind, I was pretty sure he wasn't lying. I mean, his manner reflected honesty as if it were some sort of mirror or something. I just could never imagine him lying, even if it were for the purposes of a game.
Adam, however, not having the pleasure of knowing Jesse, totally caught on. That's because Adam already had three nines. Jesse turned a bit red as he too back his two "nines" and I even think he muttered a hasty apology.
Seriously. He had to apologize just because he lied while playing "Bullshit". If only he'd apologize for other MORE IMPORTANT THINGS.
It was my turn next. You'd think that with all of the cards I had, that I would have at least one ten. Unfortunately, the only lying that had been done in this game did not involve any tens, so I was stuck in a jam. I had to lie.
The thing is, my strategy was to tell the truth in a totally unconvincing way so that Jesse- and Adam too, I guess- would call me on it and then I'd prove them wrong, forcing them to take the whole pile.
The only problem is that, well, I couldn't exactly say I had tens I didn't have. I scanned my deck desperately for something, anything I could do to save myself. My eyes landed on the group of five eights that I had gotten earlier from Adam. Perfect.
All I had to do was stick down one of those eights and call it a ten. I mean, the probability of Adam or Jesse having all of the tens were pretty slim. So, with a small smile to myself, I slid the "ten" on the table.
At that moment Jesse shot up from his chair and yelled, 'BULLSHIT!' pointing at me with a shaking yet accusatory finger. His cards were sprawled over the table from when he'd dropped his deck in his anxious rush.
I jumped, in utter shock.
'What happened?' Adam asked, confused beyond control. Jesse grabbed the notepad and scribbled in excited black cursive: "BULLSHIT!!!"
Adam smiled down at the notepad and said, 'It looks like you've been caught in the act. Fess up, Simon.'
Jesse produced four tens and waved them in front of my face.
'Fine,' I snapped as I flipped over the card, 'You were right Jesse.'
Jesse threw his arms in the air and did this really strange victory dance, which I'm sure Adam would crack up at if he could have only seen it. He waved his hands about wildly as he shook his butt, all with this goofy grin plastered on his face. Only, I didn't see it as that funny. I'd pretty much lost again.
'You do realize, Jesse, that there is no need for this little victory dance,' I informed him as I took my card back. 'I mean, its only one card. Geez.'
Yeah . . . one card that pretty much ensured my failure.
So, yeah, I did end up losing, while Adam ended up stealing the show. I felt pretty down with myself for losing. I mean, I ALWAYS lost. I was, let's face it, a complete and total LOSER. Paul could attest to that. And so could Adam and Jesse now.
But at least I got to hear Jesse say "Bullshit" intentionally. And I got to witness his, um, little victory dance . . .
And to think, Jesse probably played card games all of the time in those saloons back in the day with all of those crazy outlaws with ten-gallon hats and guns and stuff. I certainly hoped he never showed that type of embarrassing display in front of all those tough cowboys.
If he did, well . . . poor Jesse.
- 8 -
Well, let me take a moment to say, that when, at midnight, in a dusty room in a mysteriously haunted school, you can't sleep, DON'T GO ON A WALKABOUT. Trust me, I'd KNOW. If I had have just stayed there, like a good little girl, I would have been totally fine.
But trust me to be worried about how unfit I was getting.
Seriously. I couldn't sleep. Not a wink. I was tossing and turning in my bedroom on the fourth floor of Fortunaschwein, so, stupidly, I decided, Oh, hey, how about I choose now, in the late hours of the night, to get exercise?
I suck.
But yeah. So that's how I ended up walking around outside the school in a long leather jacket, with my bikini on, and a purple towel over my arm. CeeCee had told me about this infamous lake behind Fortunaschwein, where all the boys probably used to swim during their PE classes and stuff, and had to canoe over to get to the St. Josephine's All Girls School that was a couple of miles away. CeeCee said that she found a letter in her room from one of the girls that went to St. Jo's and apparently, she and a Fortunie were having lusty sex every fortnight.
. . . Ew.
When will they LEARN, not to put a BOY'S boarding school and a GIRL'S boarding school nearby? Like, duh, of COURSE the boys are going to start getting deprived of their natural desires that seventeen-year-old boys want. Of course they're going to sneak out to meet each other.
I thought it was really immature, but that's just me.
But anyway, so I was heading for the lake. CeeCee told me it was huge, and really deep, according to records that she found. CeeCee's good that way. You know, record-finding and all. And as I was walking over all of the dead grass, I was just thinking about how we needed to do a lot more of that.
You know, record finding.
Because, so far, we hadn't done much to like, investigate the history of the school, and all. You know? All we knew – well, had guessed – was that there was more than one ghost. Which isn't all that much. I mean, we haven't exactly got this stupid SIA thing down pat, right? We had no methods yet. All we were doing was winging it, and getting free accommodation while we were at it.
And Father Dom REFUSED to tell me how much we were charging Dicky-Doo. Which sucked. Because, if I made less than Starbucks, then I would personally take it upon myself to KILL THE PRIEST!!!!!!
. . . Okay, so maybe not. But . . . just . . . glare at him a lot.
Ugh.
However, when I finally founded the corner of the school with it's dead weeds creeping up the aged dark bricks and stuff, I saw that across a little way, there was one of the BIGGEST LAKES EVER.
Well, okay. So it was only about two hundred meters. Not HUGE. But still.
The moon was reflecting silver on the water, reminding me of something that might have been artistically portrayed in a painting. Nature, it had to be admitted, was the epitome of art and beauty. Unlike me . . . unlike my sorry excuse for a life . . .
Hugging my coat tighter for warmth, I stood right by the water's edge and dipped one toe in to test the temperature. It seemed quite suitable for swimming, despite the fact that it was just a tiny bit cold, so I slid off my leather coat and let the wind blow across me as if it were renewing me.
A few feet away, I saw a small rocky cliff, which looked perfect to dive from. I mean, I was no fool. There was no way I was just going to ease my way in the water because there might be a chance that I just wouldn't get in it at all from the cold. The only way was to jump.
I stood at the edge of the cliff, drew in a deep breath, and dived into what looked like some very deep water.
Whoa . . . okay, cold. Ice, ice, FREEZING COLD. Only, the iciness of the lake seemed to add to its refreshing quality. I had enjoyed the rude shock of the chilling water. If only all surprises were so welcome . . .
I began to swim a lap across the lake to the other side. As I may have said earlier, this was no small lake, ladies and gents. I think it took a whole five minutes to get to the other side! The deepest and hardest part of the lake to swim in was the middle part, which I could assume was at least twenty feet or so.
After I swam for a good ten minutes, I stopped for a nice rest. I floated on my back for a few moments, my body drifting with the water. I can't tell you how great it felt to just relax my mind and let the numbing cold drown my thoughts.
That's when I felt it. A small wave beside me was forming, getting bigger and bigger. It didn't take me long to figure out that I was not alone. Receiving the greatest shock of my life, I thrashed madly in the water for a second, and looked around desperately for any other signs of movement.
OH MY GOD! HE'D FOUND ME!! COLE KENNEDY WAS HERE!!!
AAAAAAAAH!!!
My eyes fell on a pair of feet that were on the edge of the same cliff which I had jumped from. I lifted my eyes slowly, for the cliff was not all that tall, and saw . . .
'Paul! What the HELL?'
I can't believe it. What was HE doing out there? I mean, sitting on the cliff and just deciding to creep me out.
'How's the water?' Paul inquired as he chucked a rock that he had in his hand into the water below.
That anus. He'd been throwing rocks into the water! What if one of them hit me on the head or something? They'd have to cut all my hair off and then I'd have to get my head stapled or something. Eww.
I relaxed my kicking a bit, so only my head peaked from the dark waters. I mean, I may have looked good, but you know how most women are about being seen in a bikini. It freaked me out even more to be seen in a bikini while PAUL was around.
I mean, he'd laugh and compare me to Dani. Oh, nothing, just his own, personal SUPERMODEL.
Or God forbid, start talking about her in a fashion show.
My dinner was nice. I really didn't want to taste it again, if you know what I mean.
'What the hell are you doing here?' I asked, staring at him wildly. What? He'd given me quite a scare there. I thought he might have been, oh, I dunno, my stalker ex-boyfriend or the revenge of Biker Bob's ghostly gang out to get me or something. You never know what mysteries the night holds.
'I come here every night to do laps,' Paul informed me as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Oh yeah . . . I forgot that Paul has to maintain his figure. Girlish one at that, bah.
I swam to the shore and reached a place where I could finally stand in the water. As a small wind hit my skin, Goosebumps began to form on my flesh.
It was the water. It HAD to be the water.
It was numbingly cold, so I sought my towel angrily, looking in every direction for it except for Paul's. 'Where'd I put my towel, dammit?'
But it was no where in sight.
'Wait, where are you going?' Paul wanted to know, a hint of disappointment in his tone. Damn, Paul. I guess you're going to be devoid of your insultathon tonight. Pity, really. 'Why are you leaving so soon?'
'Because,' I explained, bringing my hands furiously to my hips, 'you're here.' Just then, I realized . . . that I was only in my bikini. I looked down self-consciously, trying to avoid Paul with my eyes. 'I mean, you'd want privacy-'
I stopped for a moment, seeing that Paul was wearing board shorts. ONLY board shorts.
So much for privacy, eh? I mean, there was no way that I could tear my eyes away from that killer six-pack that Paul had going for him. That crack I made earlier about his girlish figure? Um, well, that was actually a little bit, kind of, totally and utterly false. Because Paul's perfectly shaped body was the picture of masculinity.
I HATE HIM. UGH. SEE, HE WAS EVEN WINNING IN . . . THAT DEPARTMENT.
I coughed wildly and wrenched my eyes away. It's for your own good, Suze. I mean, seriously, as much as I like the healthy gawk at a hot guy, gawking at Paul was just wrong, and something I did not want to do. For pride's sake, if not anything else.
So I dragged my eyes quickly from his abs, raking them rapidly up his chest, along his chin, and fixed them determinedly – and nervously – on his eyes.
Unfortunately, he was not looking at mine. Eyes, I mean.
'Is it cold?' Paul wanted, an animalistic gleam flashing in his eyes. 'Or are you just happy to see me?'
I noticed the direction of his gaze with utter revulsion. And it wasn't at my face. Just a little lower.
'You pervert!' I yelled at him as I shoved him with all my might into the water. He wasn't expecting that, so it was no surprise that a stream of some very colorful words came flowing from his mouth.
'I guess you don't need to answer that question,' Paul said as he winced from the numbing cold.
Wimp.
Dammit, I still couldn't find my towel. I crossed my arms over my chest, in case Paul felt the urge to look anymore, and I continued to scan the area for it. I saw something blue coming from the middle of the lake.
It was, surprise-surprise, my towel.
'What?' Paul asked, innocently. 'Missing something? Your towel, perhaps?'
I glared at him furiously. 'Not anymore. But I know what you're missing. A brain.'
Wow. That sure put him in his place, Suze.
And with that, I took his towel and dropped it into the water casually and stomped off.
Paul tried to stop me by saying, 'Suze, come on. You can stay. I promise, no more funny business.'
Which, his method was effective. I did stop, but only to remind him that I had heard that somewhere before and that not once did he ever uphold that promise.
Paul pouted, and I decided to just get back in the water. But only because I needed to retrieve my towel. I swam past him, trying to ignore him with the best of my ability.
'So,' Paul said conversationally, 'why are you here?'
I threw him a stony look and replied, 'Why do you think?'
'Is there something on your mind?'
I knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time before Paul would confront me about the whole thing that happened earlier. I mean, he had even said our discussion wasn't over.
As much as I had hoped otherwise, Paul didn't forget about it. I swear he's like an elephant or something . . . you know, an elephant never forgets? Yeah, well neither does a Paul Slater.
But I was kind of shocked that he had just flat out asked me. I mean, I had expected him to reply with something like "I dunno, Suze, you probably came out to drown yourself because you are such a loser". Which, I may or may not have been trying to do.
All hope of ever getting Paul to just leave me alone and butt out was lost, so I plunged under the water for a small retreat. It was cold, dark, and imprisoning under there. Quite like my mind was at that moment.
Once I resurfaced, I popped up to meet a very angry Paul treading water right in front of me. I met his angry glare with one of my own. I don't know where this guy gets off.
'Go away,' I told him harshly. 'I don't want to talk to you, or anyone for that matter. I'm angry at the world, so you best stay away.'
'You should really be angry at Cole, whoever he is,' Paul grumbled.
I sighed. This was going to be a long night. 'I AM angry with him,' I explained to Paul. Sometimes he can be so thick. His mind must be clouded by his sick fantasies about his bulimic girlfriend to the point where he doesn't make a lick of sense.
'You're not angry, Suze. You're scared.'
See? See what I mean? What sense does THAT make?
I looked away, looking down into the depths of the dark water. A trail of water streamed down my face. Or, at least I think it was water.
Paul waded closer, eclipsing the moon, the only source of light in the darkness. 'You're pretending, Suze. Pretending everything is fine when it isn't. You don't want to confront your problems because you are scared. Scared of showing weakness. And that, is your ultimate weakness, Suze.'
'I'm not scared, Paul,' I told him, irritated at his implication. 'I'm just annoyed and exhausted from everything, is all.'
'And maybe, Suze, if you clap your hands, Tinkerbell won't die,' Paul remarked, clapping his hands in sarcastic enthusiasm. Droplets of water flew a little bit.
I glared down into the dark water. It was so dark it almost seemed black and endless. Paul and I as we argued, were swimming out, and we ended up, I noticed, in the middle of the lake. The deepest part. The part you'd hate to be in if your legs suddenly cramped up.
'You know why they call it Neverland?' Paul asked suddenly.
I humored him. So sue me. 'Why?' I sighed, just wishing that I could crawl back into bed and finally be away from Paul Slater. Why was he doing this? Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
Why couldn't they all leave me alone? Stop haunting me?
Why?!
'It's not real,' Paul explained, his piercing blue eyes as dark looking as the water surrounding us. 'It doesn't exist. It only serves as an escape from reality. And the kids that live there? They never grow up . . . they stay naïve forever.'
'Do I look like a lost boy to you?' I demanded grumpily, but he ignored me completely. Well sorry for trying to crack a JOKE.
Jesus . . .
'You spend most of your time hiding, and now you've lost yourself,' he told me as he combed the water with his fingers. I felt a chill, but I tried to ignore it. It was probably all the cold water, you know.
'Correction: I have found myself. Swimming away from YOU.'
With that said, I tried to splash away, but Paul's hand shot out too quickly and he rested a strong hand on my shoulder.
'I don't know why the HELL you care so much. We're not friends, Paul,' I told him snottily.
Paul let go of my shoulder and replied, 'I never said we were. I have an obligation to be concerned as a witness.'
Oh, go the lawyer talk. I outta sue him for using big words.
'I'd like to witness you leaving. Now,' I commanded.
'Why?' Paul asked, his voice now taking on a sort of whiny quality that I had never heard of Paul before. To think, his power of persuasion had got him nowhere and he actually had to take to whining to get what he wanted.
The question was what DID he want? What was his personal gain from trying to help me out?
'Because I'm tired.'
'I'm tired too. Tired of you're pretending. Welcome to the real world where you're currently residing in a place that's haunted by malevolent inhuman spirits, where you're stuck with two guys you hate, and you have your stalker boyfriend after you-'
'He's NOT my boyfriend!' I protested.
'He doesn't seem to see that,' Paul observed, 'so we have to make him realize that.'
There he goes, using that dreaded pronoun.
"We".
"We" is categorized as a first person noun that addresses oneself and someone else all in one inclusive word. And I'm sorry, but I could barely manage to be in a sentence with Paul, much less a small two-letter word. It would get crowded, and fast.
'He has no idea where I'm at,' I informed Paul, dipping low into the water again so my head was just peeking out.
'He seems set on finding you, Suze. Someone that has taken it upon himself to send you twenty-eight text messages probably has the drive to actually go and find you.'
PAUL HAD COUNTED???
Yet, somehow, I wouldn't doubt it. About Cole's drive, I mean. No, not his SEX drive. Eww, as if I'd ever serviced that. Or anyone's as embarrassing as it is to admit . . . twenty-three years old, and all.
But I couldn't admit that to Paul or else he might have won again. The fact that he was right, NOT the fact that I was still . . . er, innocent.
Ew . . .
You just don't go around SAYING that to people . . . eww.
But Paul was already winning the strange contest we were secretly holding within. And I could NOT let him win.
'Have you ever considered, Paul,' I asked while looking at him sideways, 'that I might deserve this? You know, as some sort of cruel punishment for all those times I snuck out of the house and came home in a police car, or made my mum cry back in New York, or how many people I hurt, or all the ghosts that I didn't handle properly, or the times when I lied to Father Dom. I mean, he IS a priest and all, or my dad – '
I broke off abruptly. There was NO WAY that I was telling him about . . . that.
No, no, no, no one would EVER know about that.
What I'd done to dad.
I was glaring down at the water then, and Paul was silent for a moment, before speaking again.
'No one deserves this, Suze.'
I shot my glare to him. He had no earthly idea what I went through on a daily basis. Dani's never beat him to a pulp. He's never had to layer on foundation to cover bruises on his face. He's never been dumped with a dispassionate note from the love of his life. He didn't have to make hot chocolate everyday just to make ends meet. He's never cried for hours every night. He's never come to the conclusion that God really, truly does hate him.
'Maybe I do . . . ' I whispered.
'There is no "maybe", Suze,' Paul's voice raised slightly. It sounded firm, and stubborn. 'You don't deserve this at all. Not you or any other woman that suffers like you do.'
. . . He called me a woman. The lawyer in him talking, again, I'll bet.
'You don't understand, Paul,' I told him, tugging on his arm for emphasis. 'I got the double whammy of freakish things. A stalker ex and the shifter thing.' I looked heavenward and shook my fist in the air. 'I GET THE HINT!'
Paul stopped me from tugging on his arm and replied, 'You don't get the hint. The shifter thing is a gift.'
HA!
'Gift,' I said as I laughed bitterly. 'You sound just like Father Dom.'
'You have an amazing ability, Suze,' Paul told me as he rested his hand on my shoulder. I started to get the goosebumps again. And not just the corny R. L. Stine paperbacks. These were full-blown reactions from intense coldness, of both the climate, and the soul. 'You're just afraid to use it. You need to learn how to use it properly and what, exactly, you can do with it.'
'I don't want to learn,' I told Paul flatly. 'Especially not from you.'
And with that, I plunged into the water again for another retreat. Only . . . this time I was never quite able to come back up. You see, something clamped around my ankle, serving as an anchor to keep me from moving. I looked down in the dark depths of the water and saw a faint ghostly glow. I was reminded violently of the RLS Angels when I felt more hands grab my legs. I began thrashing about in wild panic, but with each moment I thrashed, the more I was sinking to the bottom of the lake floor. Yelling was useless, as that would only cause a few bubbles or something and waste air.
Which was another problem on its own. Air. Or, in this case, lack of it.
I tried desperately to struggle more in order to free myself, but more hands clamped around my legs and my arms, making it impossible for me to fight anymore. I couldn't see who or what it was. All I knew was that I was drowning. I felt as if my lungs would start to collapse. There is only so long one can go without breathing. And the long stream of bubbles indicated that I was no longer capable of that. Breathing, I mean.
The dark water surrounding me became enveloped in blackness.
- 8 -
God I was cold. Freezing cold. And it totally didn't help that I was soaking wet. At the time I couldn't remember why I was wet. I felt something dripping down on me . . . was it raining? It had to be raining.
I heard a voice, so far away . . . one that I could easily recognize if recognition hadn't fleeted my mind at that moment. Whoever's voice it was, it was swimming around my head, making me feel a little dizzy.
Then I felt something soft and warm on my mouth. It took me a while to process that those were, in fact, lips.
Wait a minute. Why do I have lips on my mouth? Whose were they? Why was I so dizzy?
And were those lips . . . kissing me?
My mind piled the evidence together- the wet, the cold, the dripping, the lips- and then instantly I remembered what was happening.
The Point. The rain. Paul.
I was still seventeen!
But that was impossible. I couldn't have taken a trip back in time. I mean, the LAST time I awoke from something and had the same suspicions, I had woken up disappointed because I realized that there was no way that I would ever wake up and be seventeen again . . .
. . . Right?
I mean, Paul's kiss wasn't THAT mind-blowing that it would render me unconscious right? And of so, why would my mind project five years of horrible pain and suffering while I was knocked out?
Unless it was trying to warn me about something . . .
Nah. Maybe I just fell asleep because I was so bored. And I was having nightmares because it was some sort of reflection of the turmoil that my physical body was going through at that moment, while my conscious decided to take a mini vacation.
. . . No one talks like that. Especially not a seventeen-year-old that has never studied Freud or Pavlov before.
A rush of air cleared my dizzying mind. I began to feel other things besides cold. Like the fact that there was something weighing down my chest. A painful tingling in toes that I could not feel properly. And not to mention the sudden urge to cough.
And that's when I suddenly began coughing up large amounts of water. I fluttered my eyes opened and realized that I was, in fact, normal twenty-three year old Suze.
Normality sucks.
Above me, I could see the fuzzy face of who I assumed to be Paul. I mean . . . well, no one else has eyes like that, so I guessed it was Paul. Then again, it might have been Jack, because, well, they're kind of brothers, right? Maybe Jack had eyes like that too? All icy and stuff?
Nah...Jack's VOICE was kind of high, though. The one that was droning in my unreceptive mind, was deep.
Everything was in a complete haze. Paul's head was above mine, and I still needed to cough.
So I did.
All over him.
You know, like in "10 Things I Hate About You" when drunken Julia Stile's character told Heath Ledger's character that his eyes had green in them and then she puked on him?
Well, it was like that, only I wasn't drunk. I wasn't really sure what I was.
It was kind of funny, when you looked back at it. But I didn't think it was so much, then.
Not that I could apologize. I was too busy coughing up this water that was, for some reason, in my lungs.
I turned to my side and emptied my load of H2O. I was SO confused. Why the hell did I have water in my throat?
Then I remembered . . . Paul, lake, middle of the night . . .
Well, when you say it like that it sounds wrong. Which it is wrong. Paul shouldn't have been there at all. He never really even explained the REAL reason why he was there in the first place, which was totally annoying. Just as annoying as the whole coughing thing.
And, you know, the whole not really knowing what was really going on thing.
I noticed, much to my embarrassment, that there was a great deal of water on him, and not just because he was in the lake too. Most of it had come straight from my mouth. I half expected Paul to slap a lawsuit on me with a lot of big words on it.
But for some reason, he didn't seemed to be making any phone calls or anything, or even informing me of my right to remain silent. Instead, he cradled my face in his hands and said, 'Suze. Thank God.'
'Thank God for what?' I asked, my words blurring just as my thoughts.
'You're alive,' Paul smiled softly. I had no idea what he was talking about. I mean, why wouldn't I be alive?
I knit my eyebrows in confusion. I felt so weird . . . like I was falling, really, really fast . . .
'Uh . . . what do you mean?' I slurred. It was still really fuzzy . . . Paul kept on having two eyes . . . then four . . . then two again . . .
'You nearly drowned,' he explained.
' . . . Huh?'
I didn't get it. How could I have nearly drowned? I was a good swimmer. I TAUGHT PAUL'S BROTHER how to swim, damn it! PAUL SAW ME ALMOST DROWN?!
That was so EMBARRASSING!!
But . . . almost drown? No way . . . totally not happening . . . he was messing with me again . . .
Suddenly, a bubble of something like panic developed in my stomach started to take it's toll on my thoughts. I started freaking out. REALLY freaking.
'No, I - you said - Cole - I said no - And then you - ' I stood up immediately, jerking away from him, but I slipped on the mud that was under my feet. Everything was totally dark . . . except the moon. It was bright, and mysterious, and almost daunting now.
As I fell back on the ground, there must have been a rock there, because I felt a searing pain somewhere in my body. Where, I didn't know. I didn't have sensation in below my waist, yet, and my head was hurting so badly, I felt like I'd just shifted or something. Which I hadn't. Right . . . ?
I started breathing fast, still coughing. There was still water in my throat, and I could seem to get enough oxygen. Paul was starting to look sharper, as my focus was returning to me, but I didn't UNDERSTAND, and even though he was TALKING, I couldn't hear what he was SAYING!
'WHY DID I ALMOST DROWN?!' I yelled at him, feeling as though in a second, I was going to have an epileptic fit, or whatever. Something was really wrong . . . I couldn't just "stop swimming."
Paul moved over to me, and it was all that I could do not to jerk away from him again. I mean . . . what if HE tried to drown me?! I couldn't remember. But maybe HE was trying to KILL me. Because Paul is like, so bad, right? All mean, and lawyer-y and stuff . . . ALL lawyers are corrupt, RIGHT?!
I really wanted to blame him for SOMETHING.
But yeah, Paul's hands came to my shoulders, and he forced me to face him. I was glaring so hard, my face felt like it was going to split open. I didn't want him touching me . . . I wanted him to go away . . .
Though, if he let go, I felt that there was a good chance I would fall in the mud again, and I wouldn't be able to move . . .
Paul, however, looked down, and started touching somewhere else on my body. Don't get grossed out, it wasn't anywhere forbidden, you sick things. No, it was somewhere on my arm . . . why, I didn't know. I could barely feel it. I mean, I could vaguely feel his fingers on it, and something was hurting, but that was about it, right?
'Something pulled you down. Or should I say someone,' Paul growled at me.
WHAT DID THAT EVEN MEAN?!?!
'Stop talking weird...you're talking weird stuff, Paul, stop - ' I stopped, feeling so dizzy again . . . the dark trees near the dark lake looked as if they were growing taller . . . as if I was getting lost, deeper and deeper in the wood.
'No, someone held you under the water. I saw something flash. A ghost, Suze,' Paul's voice brought me back down to earth. I closed my eyes, hard, and then opened them again, concentrating hard on Paul. 'No - no way, I - you were talking about Cole, and I said - no - '
Suddenly, I looked down at where he was touching me. My hand. He was dabbing a towel on my hand.
WHICH WAS BLEEDING!!!
I squealed in horror, and started flipping around madly. 'WHY AM I BLEEDING?!' I screamed at him, wriggling away for all I was worth. I could not comprehend ANYTIHNG.
'You just gashed your hand, Suze, you slipped,' Paul told me, trying to get me to focus. 'You'll be all right. Everything will be all right.'
Um, no. Nothing would ever be all right. How could he say that? I mean, I was randomly coughing up water, I was bleeding, and I apparently had escaped death for, like, the second time this week.
And I STILL HAD NO IDEA WHY.
'I don't get it,' I frowned in confusion. 'What happened to me?'
'You went under the water, staying under for a while. I just thought you were being dramatic, so I didn't think anything of it. That is, until I noticed your air bubbles stopped,' Paul explained, scanning me for my reaction.
My air bubbles stopped. I had stopped breathing. But WHY?
I was still sitting in the mud. I always was, I guess. Among the dirtiest of souls, was mine. It was only fitting that I frolicked with what seemed so intent on sticking to me. So I sat on the mucky ground, even if it seemed like it was shaking right under me. I was glad that the mud wasn't soaking through my bikini.
WHICH I WAS STILL WEARING.
. . . Actually, when you think about it, that's kind of a good thing. I mean, I could have NOT been wearing anything at all, right?
Don't go there, please.
I half climbed to my knees, but stopped before I stood up. a) I still wasn't sure if my unresponsive body would hold me up, and b) because, I was still TOTALLY confused, damn it!
'Paul, I . . . I don't know what happened-'
'Neither do I,' Paul shushed me with one finger. 'Do you remember any of it at all? Do you remember anything holding you down?'
I closed my eyes, trying to remember something . . . anything . . .
'Glow,' I said definitely. 'There was a glow.'
Paul's face changed completely. 'Thought as much,' he said darkly. 'They tried to kill you.'
I felt like I was going to slip again. Seriously. My legs - I couldn't feel them. They were like jelly. I hadn't noticed how much Paul was supporting me until he went to move away and I felt my knees almost buckle beneath me. Quickly grabbed my arms again before I fell completely.
Dark images danced across my memory. Something else . . .
'Hands,' I went on, 'Lots . . . there were lots of hands. More than two . . . at least, I think . . .'
'Is that all you remember?' Paul asked, noticing how hard it was for me to think. I mean, it totally was because as I looked down at my hand, I noticed that blood- MY blood- was seeping through it. Which made me a little sick to my stomach. But I HAD to keep thinking.
'Um . . . '
Paul . . . going under water . . .
'I really don't . . . '
Relaxing . . . cold water . . . escaping . . .
'I think . . . '
Faint bluish glow . . . hands, lots of hands, gripping my leg . . . I couldn't breathe . . . blackness . . .
. . . laughing . . .
'They laughed at me.'
Paul nodded, looking angry for some reason. God, even post-near-death experience, he STILL had the nerve to be pissed off at me.
FRIGGING TYPICAL.
He looked down at my hand, and without my consent, even, he just totally used my blue towel that – well, obviously he'd rescued from the lake, and wrapped it around my hand. I watched the blood seeping through the fabric. I still couldn't barely feel my hand.
And the fact that Paul tied it almost so tightly that my circulation was pretty much cut off wasn't helping all that much. It was like a tourniquet. Now I knew why Paul hadn't become a doctor . . .
Tourniquet . . . I remembered . . . I used that exact same word to describe how Jesse's first-ever hanky-tying episode. You know . . . after we'd come out of that fight with Heather Chambers, all those years ago.
Funny, the things you remember. Especially stupid things like THAT.
'Er, thanks,' I said quickly, feeling a little embarrassed. I mean, you would be too if you had almost drowned and your sworn enemy witnessed the whole thing and then put his differences aside and saved you anyway.
Which is another reason to be confused. Why did Paul save me? One little act of omission, and I'd be at the bottom of the lake and out of his hair. Isn't that what he wanted?
Paul, who had picked up my jacket, placed it on my shoulders and ushered me in the direction of the school. He then stooped to pick up his towel, which was, like the one around my wrist – my own – wet. 'Look, Paul, you can go back to swimming or whatever. I'm good from here,' I told him.
'Tempting,' Paul said with a smirk, 'but I'd rather finish my laps alive.'
'Oh, yeah. That wouldn't be smart,' I said, now feeling progressively more mortified. I mean, I didn't mean to say things that sounded so stupid, but I couldn't help it. My mind was still completely frazzled from the whole almost dying thing. I mean, I don't think that telling him to go back into a haunted lake is the brightest thing to do.
I'm such a dumbass, right?
We rounded the corner, and Paul stopped for a moment. Puzzled, I stopped too. He didn't look angry anymore. Now he had this look that was similar to amusement. I could see it in his eyes, which reflected the moonlight like a mirror.
'You're really lucky,' Paul stated, laughing a bit.
Which is weird. Because the last thing that ever comes to mind when I think of my pathetic excuse for a life is luck. In fact, you could say that fate or the Bad Karma monster- or whoever controls that kind of thing- was after me. Big time.
But I decided to humor him and went, 'What makes you think that?'
Paul shook his head and motioned for me to come closer. Reluctantly, I stepped closer, and he whispered, 'Just think, Suze. If that had been Jesse out there with you instead of me, you'd be kind of dead right now. You know . . . no breath and all.'
'Bad joke, Slater.'
But he was right. I mean, Jesse could have fought them or something. But it would have been too late if I had drowned out there. There'd be no way Jesse could have saved me.
And given my lack-of-luck, I probably would have been doomed to roam this pathetic Earth for the rest of my afterlife.
So maybe it was a good thing that Paul was there to save me . . .
. . . Wait a minute. Paul said I stopped breathing. Meaning that in order for me to start breathing again he had to do something that Jesse couldn't have done . .
As in, give me oxygen –
EWW!!!
Aww, MAN!
AND not to mention the fact that if I'd been dragged under the water, and I was now out of the water, then Paul would have had to . . . you know, transport me from underwater to on shore.
That involves physical contact.
Most likely, him touching my skin . . .
Because, as aforementioned, I wasn't wearing all that much. Just a skimpy black bikini. God, he probably thought I was SUCH a SLUT.
Though, I think that Dani is the benchmark of that, so I'm pretty safe.
Not that I CARED what PAUL thought of me.
Suddenly, I became a lot colder. No, not because of the drop of temperature. I mean, yeah, it WAS cold. But my attitude was suddenly stone cold. I mean . . . eww . . .
I'm sure he was cringing, too, behind his lawyer-y I'm-perfectly-serious face.
'Whatever,' I mumbled, and very carefully, I got to my feet, although, at some point, I had to nervously use Paul's arm for support. I didn't WANT to, but my knees still felt like pudding. Being unconscious can do that to you. Believe me, I'd know, with the amount of times I have been.
What can I say? EVERYONE usually wants me dead.
'Uh, sorry,' I apologized, and hastily let go as soon as I was on my feet. I stumbled awkwardly away from him, but he did follow. Weirdo . . . I could handle myself –
Oh, SHUT up. That wasn't supposed to happen!! The drowning thing, I mean.
Ugh . . .
We made our long, silent way back around the school.
I sniffed, and said darkly, 'If I catch a cold, someone's gonna die.'
'What?' Paul asked from behind me, as we stepped through the high, dead grass, with only darkness in front and behind us. 'One sneeze and you'll blow up the house, or something?'
I flushed. 'No, I meant – ' I just scoffed in embarrassment. 'Never mind.'
God . . . it was so frigging cold. I mean, yeah, I had my jacket, but with the water, it was kind of sticking to me, and the water on my skin was practically frozen, and so the leather was like ice. And my wet hair wasn't helping, either.
Paul gave me a sideways look, and stopped me for a moment. I turned towards him, looking shocked at the abruptness of his halt. 'What?' I asked, but was horrified to find that, when I opened my mouth, my teeth started chattering. I clapped my hand firmly to my lips, holding my jaw in self-annoyance. God . . . how embarrassing.
He bowed his head to look at me. Because, um, yeah, 5'7, 6'3 much? It was kind of humiliating, that. How short I was. I hadn't grown an inch since I was sixteen, and . . .well, yeah. I mean, Danielle was like, six feet or something. And here's short ass li'l ol' me, at a towering five something.
The moon was casting shadows across the realms of his perfectly sculpted face. Because, yeah, okay, Paul was a hot guy. You could so tell that he wasn't single. I mean, any guy who looked like that couldn't possibly be single. One look, and you knew he had a girl.
Or guy.
Um . . . delicate topic. Don't mention it to him.
Ha, I wondered what he'd say if I mentioned that Queer Eye for the Straight Guy wanted to become the Fab Six, and I'd signed him up?
. . . I doubt there'd be too much gratitude involved.
That was when he pulled his own towel around my shoulders. It was almost dry now, which made me wonder exactly HOW long I'd been out cold.
I squeaked indignantly, but quickly silenced myself. It was still cold, but the weight of the barely-wet towel on my jacket did add some warmth, so yeah.
'Thanks,' I said awkwardly. 'Oh, and . . . so yeah, we're, er, even.' I winced a little, and sped up.
He caught up, and turned me to face him. 'What?'
I gave him a cold smile. 'You know, I saved your life with the Biker Bob thing in the Mission chapel, you saved mine just there. We're even.' Come on, it was the most obvious thing.
Paul stared, as if he didn't understand.
Oh, give me a break.
'Look,' I said, 'I know what you're doing. You're trying to make up for . . . you know, stuff. So yeah, you don't have to pay me back, now. That Cole thing's just out of guilt for you, I know, so yeah, you can forget about it, it's okay.'
I expected him to sigh in relief. I expected him to say, "Oh, thank God . . . "or something.
I did not expect him to glare at me like I'd just said his mother was butt ugly.
'Suze,' he snapped, 'It's not guilt. No one deserves to feel scared, 24/7. Not even you.'
Not even me. Oh, that's nice.
I gave him a nasty look, and yanked my jacketed arm away from his hand.
He'd totally just implied that I WAS a bad person. Did you HEAR that?! SERIOUSLY. He thought that, to some extent, I DID deserve to pay for sins. He TOTALLY thought that I deserved to feel scared, just not ALL the time.
THANKS, PAUL. THANKS A HEAP.
Thank God. I say that, because it was then we reached the front of the school. I walked up the ten steps that lead to the door, and then tried to open it with my yuckied hand. But, as I said, yucky. I then tried to lean against it, but the door was actually shut. Not, like, ajar or anything.
I sighed in frustration.
Paul moved next to me, and twisted the knob sharply, and it opened straight away. He shot me a sideways smirk.
Another victory.
'Where would you be without me?' he joked.
'In love,' I replied angrily, and shoved past him, inside.
I was serious. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be deeply and passionately in love with Jesse. We'd be happy.
But Paul screwed that up.
Yet another victory over me.
Once inside the pitch black entrance hall, only the moonlight from the windows above provided us with any luminance. Four large rectangles were cast along the ground. It was actually kind of unnerving to be standing in virtual darkness with Paul Slater. I mean, now he'd slammed the door shut, I could barely see him, only his outline. So yeah, I yanked his towel from my shoulders, and dumped it at his feet, so he'd know that I'd given it back.
'Shows me not to tread on your turf,' I said, almost bitterly, 'You know, with the whole lake thing.'
That was when his outline began moving towards me. I'll admit, okay, I kind of freaked, and quickly shuffled back, until I was caught in one of the distorted squares from the above windows. My hands had a ghostly pale look about them, almost a white-grey-blue. It was scary. Paul was standing practically over me, and I kind of felt that my heart was pounding at the base of my throat, and that no matter how much I swallowed, it wouldn't return to its rightful place.
'W-what?' I choked out.
WHAT? Okay, I was WIGGED, okay? I mean, we were kind of alone, and it was dark, and HEY, HE was the lawyer here, probably thinking, "Excellent . . . no witnesses . . . "
Mr C. Montgomery Burns fingers, and everything.
'Suze,' he growled severely. I could see the eerie white highlights that the moonlight though the window was casting in his hair. Yet his expression was a mystery to me. It was unknown, buried in darkness.
I had a bad feeling that he was glaring at me again. 'I don't know why you keep thinking that I don't give a damn. I do. I am actually GLAD that you're not sharing the same status as Jesse, okay? If I wanted you dead, do you think that I would have bothered to frigging RESUSCITATE YOU? No. So, Jesus Christ, STOP being so damned melodramatic. It's starting to piss me off.'
I was so shocked, honestly. He could have given birth to quadruplets and I don't think that I could have been more shocked than I was then.
I must have blinked for ages. I couldn't say anything. And I didn't even know exactly why. Probably the facts that Paul had yelled at me so angrily, or because he'd lied so convincingly. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't.
'Th-thank you, then,' I spluttered, 'For . . . you know, saving my life then.' A horrible chill swept over me, and threatened to lock me in a dungeon of ice. And I had no idea why . . .
Paul's outline was dead still. He didn't say anything for a whole thirty seconds. And with silence that deep, thirty seconds contains an eternity.
But what he said next, floored me.
And kind of convinced me that he was intensely bipolar.
'God,' he breathed, shaking his head softly, 'You have the most beautiful eyes, Simon.'
Oh my God . . .
You know that heart that I claimed to be jammed in my throat? Well, I think I started choking on it.
I stepped into the sanctuary of the darkness, very rapidly, at that. Okay, I don't think that I was the ONLY one who was feeling a little out of it. Someone obviously needed to catch up on sleep. Or maybe he HAD fallen asleep, while talking to me, and was sleep-talking? Murmuring about his lover, Simon Cowell?
IT COULD HAPPEN.
PAUL SLATER COMPLIMENTING ME ON MY ATTRACTIVE EYEBALLS, THOUGH, COULD NOT.
He was talking bullshit.
So I didn't even bother thanking him. I mean, okay, he was obviously doing some major groveling. Why, I didn't know. I mean, okay, groveling, but did he have to LIE? Like, MAKE UP NICE THINGS TO SAY?
I mean, why would he be bothered noticing a pair of eyes when his vision was being blocked by Dani's pair of mountainous knockers?
Honestly.
'I – I have to go,' I uttered, moving back further.
'Yeah,' he agreed. 'Go sleep. If you slip into a coma, I'll kill you, Simon.'
Um. Great. That would be jolly helpful.
I looked at him nervously, even though I was aware that he couldn't even see me, anymore. I could only see the top of his head. His wet hair had gone curly, and was gleaming whitely in the moonlight.
My back was now against the stairwell. I kind of bumped into it, and was brought to my senses. 'Uh,' I said. 'Um, yeah.'
Hey, no one ever said I was a speech therapist. So shut up.
I needed to have a shower . . . get the mud off of me . . . I needed to get out of here . . .
So I did. I practically ran up those stairs with legs that were still partly malfunctioning. I couldn't comprehend the possible idea that Paul would care. I mean, it was just too farfetched. No, not after everything. Not after all the things he'd learnt to hate me for. He didn't care. He was still playing the game.
The game that I'd never win.
I just wished that he'd stop taking so much pleasure out of messing with my mind. I couldn't take much more, I really couldn't . . .
And I think there was something WRONG with HIS EYES, if he thought mine were nice. So, yeah, my eyes were really, really green. But, nothing special. Really. They looked depressed. Because I guess, that's what I was. But seriously, they weren't beautiful. Nothing about me was.
Pretty, maybe, but not beautiful.
So I didn't think it was necessary for him to lie. That was just cruel. And hello, had he seen Danielle Moore's eyes when they were all made up? Totally gorgeous. Made-for-TV and everything. So yeah, this only confirmed that Paul was indeed, insane.
Or at least, blind.
Or very bored.
Or very sadistic.
Or all of the above.
Yeah. Probably.
As I was walking up the stairs, something hit me.
I almost died, tonight . . . and Paul prevented that death. He physically saved me. After condemning me five years ago to a life that was not a life at all, he'd saved me from my escape.
Part of me, a very scary part, wished he hadn't.
- 8 -
LONG REVIEWS.
Hahaha . . . Jesse swore . . .
Cough.
Hehehe. We are very sorry for the controversial chapter title. We hope you understand – it was highly necessary.
Well, actually, it was just late and Lolly couldn't think of anything else.
Whatever.
We think that we got this up QUICKLY. I mean, this one was only 33 pages, so whatever. But yeah, I (Lolly) couldn't bring myself to write anymore, on this late Monday night.
Actually, it's now Tuesday morning.
!!! NEXT CHAPTER SPOILER: We meet the ghosts that haunt Fortunaschwein Boarding School For Boys.
And it's not pretty.
OMG, we're just about to hit 300 reviews!!!! ARGH!!! YAY!!! YOU GUYS PUT THE AWE IN AWESOME. THE WICK IN WICKED. THE POO IN POOF!
. . . Actually . . . forget we mentioned that last one . . .
More coughing.
We love you all. Honestly. And we also LOVE questions. Even if we don't answer them, we make conscious efforts to answer them though the actual story, rather than just straight out. Someone said Suze was acting like a loser, I remember. Well, we agreed, and made sure that you ALL knew that that's how Suze was seeing herself. We ARE trying!
Love Lolly and Hayley.