F l a s h l i g h t

by Stark Raving Lolly

Nathan Blake. Robin Lawrence. Charles Austin. Bart Ford. Four boys, all dead. A violently haunted exboarding school. A fire in 1969. A man named Cole to run from. A mystery to be solved...and a love to be determined. Busy, aren't we Suze? [FINISHED]

13. The Misfortunates

A/N: Hayley here, to annoy you. Wow, thirteen chapters. And way over three hundred reviews. I'm touched, guys, truly, as is Lolly. All of you have so many questions, it's hard to answer all of them on here. But they will be answered as we continue writing. And you know what? We're at unlucky chapter thirteen. You know what that means?

Good. Because I don't.

Kidding. Read on, and you'll see what mysteries it holds . . .

– 8 -

'Suze,' CeeCee snapped at me.

I looked up boredly from my cereal that Adam had made me, while in his half asleep state.

'Huh?'

'You weren't listening,' CeeCee replied grumpily. Her uber-white hair was looking truly shiny in its totally cute sports girl cut. Her thin framed silver glasses were back on, and she looked ready for action.

Academic action, that is.

And according to me that's, like, a form of capital punishment or something.

Baaaaaaaaah . . .

I groaned. 'Oh, uh, no, not really.' So SUE me. I'd had a pretty hard night. I wasn't, you know, sunshine and daisies NOW.

Not that I was going to go into detail, for CeeCee, at why my night had been so hectic. CeeCee's a journalist. A professional one, at that, working STILL for the Carmel Pine, but she's not on the little articles at the back of the paper anymore. She's got the front headlines, and she's been offered heaps of jobs from really big newspapers. Adam had whispered to me that the New York Times wanted to get their paws on her, and launched into this furious rant about how devious and sly New Yorkers were, when I smilingly reminded him that I was one.

That had shut him up quickly.

But yeah. Here was CeeCee, giving me this death glare. I mean, okay, I guess I should have been listening to what she'd spent the whole day yesterday researching, but . . . it was just so boring. I stopped. 'Cee . . . who wants to hear about how Fortunaschwein was founded in 1892 by Sir Patrick Fortunaschwein, an elderly man who endeavoured to provide the best education to the finest young males of the century? And who wants to hear about how the new and improved plumbing was installed in the early 1920s, for the students of the school's convenience? . . . THERE YOU GO. INFORMATION RETAINED. Can I sleep now?'

CeeCee gave me a hard look. 'Come on, Suze, that stuff's going to be useless,' she explained.

'I'll say.'

She sighed. 'Can we just spend most of today in the library, looking for real information?' she asked pleadingly. 'I mean, Jesse's been a great help, but I can't actually talk with him all that much. And plus, he's always exploring the place.'

. . . Exploring? Oh, so much for the PAIRS rule, Jesse. It's okay for YOU to go wandering around on your own, but me? Oooh, no, I have to have an ESCORT.

I would like it on the record that: I HATE GHOSTS.

. . . Thank you.

'So?' CeeCee gave me a hopeful look, 'will you help me research this place more? I mean, we have to know about the area we are studying before we go barging into rooms, and like, getting killed or hurt, or something,'

I blushed. She was referring to the dumbwaiter thing with Jack.

I knew, because she was smirking at me.

There remained only one problem with all of this research . . . where to start? I mean, sure the school was a big school back in 1969. But what about now? Who would want to waste precious bandwidth to make a site dedicated to a school that had long since closed for some unknown reason?

But CeeCee was totally keen on the whole research thing. She had scanned the library already, searching for anything and everything that had to do with the school or that might have given some information on it.

Some of the books she had found were scattered all over the table we were seated at in the dining hall. One of them, I noticed, was the Fortunaschwein Boy's School Handbook. I picked up the handbook and flipped through it boredly.

Pages . . . images . . . black and white . . .

'Hey, how about we go to the library?' CeeCee suggested.

WHAT?! NO. SHE CAN'T MAKE ME.

'Um,' I said quickly, 'You know that mallophobia I have? Well, funniest thing, I've developed a severe case of libraryophobia! Isn't that the WEIRDEST? I mean, one moment, I'm fine when – '

'Suze,' CeeCee said, 'Shut up. Come on. We are the SIA. Supernatural Investigations Agency. In order for the supernatural stuff to get solved, we have to actually investigate what we're solving.'

. . . Ugh.

'Fair enough,' I grumbled darkly.

CeeCee slid all of the books she'd gotten into this little neat book-carrier bag thingie. I mean, I didn't exactly marvel the bag or anything. Let's face it, it wasn't Prada or even Kate Spade. But it looked pretty convenient. I mean, it fit about six thick books in it.

I didn't think it was so cool when she dumped it at me, and made me carry it.

While I was dragging my feet to the library, it seemed as if CeeCee were skipping merrily. You know, like she actually looked forward to shoving her nose in some books for the whole morning, while there was a bright shining sun hanging in the cloudless sky, just outside the windows. But leave it up to Cee to be more enthused over a pile of books than over a bit of fresh air.

I just realized that spending all this time working inside the school was really going to affect my tan. And not in such a good way . . .

Hanging on the walls was a very large mirror. As I passed by, I glanced quickly at my reflection. I don't get it. I don't get Paul. Why he'd called my eyes beautiful still perplexed me.

It was just impossible to fathom that someone who had five years ago ruined my entire life, would just pay me off the wall compliments about my eyes. I mean, that's something you'd only hear from someone who, you know, liked you or something. And given the way Paul had been treating me ever since I came home, I doubt he liked me at all.

Maybe he was blinded by my obscenely white legs and began seeing little green dots, like the ones you see when someone takes a picture with flash, and totally mistook them for my eyes. Because that's the only way I could see my dark, sunken eyes as anything remotely close to beautiful.

Optimism faded on the tanning situation as we rounded the corner to the library. I had never really been in the library before, partly because I find libraries a little overwhelming.

I'm not afraid of them or anything, it's just the amount of books contained inside always left me feeling a bit dumb. I mean, there was no way someone could possibly know every bit of information those books held between the covers. Especially me, who hadn't cracked open a book, unless it was a textbook, in YEARS.

This library was no different from any other library I'd been to. I mean, sure it didn't have computers with Internet access on them, but it was still wall-to-wall books. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough. It had hundreds of books. They were dark with age, and looked like books strictly for school study, as if all other works of fiction had been confiscated or burnt. It even possessed the same library smell . . . the smell of old books and dust, which you could tell was pleasing to CeeCee's nose.

But as for mine? It made me want to sneeze.

CeeCee flicked the lights on, and I noticed the décor in the library was dark, just like the rest of the school. Placed around the room were plush dark green chairs and a few scattered tables. I almost dropped CeeCee's heavy bag on one of the tables as I set it down.

'Be careful,' CeeCee warned me quickly, 'those books are really old and delicate.'

'So is my back,' I whined, massaging it with one of my hands. CeeCee hardly looked sympathetic. Instead, she folded her laptop open on the table and snagged a chair to sit in. She began typing furiously on the small keyboard.

'What do you want me to do?' I asked, pulling up a chair beside her. I noticed she was on a search engine that I didn't recognize . . . one that was probably only known by highly esteemed journalists. She glanced at me over her shoulder and replied, 'Why don't you pull out a few periodicals? They're over there.'

I followed where her creamy finger pointed with my eyes . . .

No. No WAY. I had to CLIMB to reach the periodicals because they were on the very top shelf in huge, brown storage boxes. And I didn't even know what a periodical was.

I'm not cut out to be a nerd, I tell you. I had no idea there was that much physical labour involved in research.

No wonder Michael Meducci was able to maintain is abs of steel and beautiful biceps. He had to work to keep his geek status, after all.

Instead of having those cute little step-stool thingies they had at most libraries, this place had none. NONE, I tell you. It didn't even have any of those cool ladders with the wheels on them that they have at the bookstores but won't let non-employees use. You know, like the ones in Bedknobs and Broomsticks? The only way to reach the darn things was to grab one of those plush green chairs and use that as a stool.

I wanted to protest, but I felt an obligation to CeeCee. I mean, she was the one working the hardest here. For everyone else it was, like, a full-time coffee break. Except for Jesse who doesn't drink coffee. Or much of anything for that matter. Because that was just it. He wasn't actually MATTER.

So I pushed one of the green chairs over to the shelf, climbed on it, and tried to pry the box from the shelf. But let me tell you, whatever those periodical thingies were, they were HEAVY. When I finally had the box in my hands, I felt the plush chair beneath me sink a bit. After a bunch of wobbling and a few brave saves on my part, I finally managed to set the box off the chair, and climb off of it in one piece.

Not wanting to carry the box all the way back to CeeCee, I just sat down on the chair and opened it. What? My hand still kind of hurt from that thing last night. You know, gashing it and all. Sure, it LOOKED healed, but –

Fine, I'm a wimp. Get used to it.

Inside the box were, among the dust, these really tall and thick books. I mean, no WONDER it was so heavy. On the spine of the books read a small year, handwritten on there with what seemed like a permanent marker. Inside of the books, there were small clippings of newspaper articles and a few things from some magazines. I perused through a few of the years, like 1962 and 1964 . . . but I really didn't see much that pertained to the school.

I found the book labeled for the year 1969, which was bound in a black book. It was the only book in the whole box that wasn't labeled, nor was it finished either. I actually had to look inside of the book and see the date marked on the articles.

Well, at least it was something. CeeCee MIGHT have been able to get something out of it. She's just so much better at this kind of thing.

I left the box of periodicals and came back to CeeCee with my prize. She stopped typing long enough to say, 'Oh, cool. Set it over there. We'll look at it later.'

'Can't we look at it now?' I whined, as I plopped the book down next to her. 'I mean, your Internet search isn't pulling up much, from what I can see.'

CeeCee frowned, as she closed her laptop and pulled the large book in front of her. When she opened the book, her eyes widened at the sight of the browned articles, as if she'd found buried treasure or something.

Yeah, buried treasure all right. If these were so important, then why were they placed messily in an unlabeled book and packed into a box where no one would see them again?

She fingered an article about a wild environmentalist's conquest to save a tree that was about to be bulldozed. Apparently, he stood in front of it and when the cops tried to arrest him, he took the handcuffs away and handcuffed himself to the tree. There was even a picture. The guy looked totally rugged. You know, the kind that wears Birkenstocks with socks and tie-dyed shirts?

Yeah. One of those types. A hippie.

He probably played the guitar and wrote songs about the tears of Mother Earth.

And he probably ate a bunch of Tofu.

Tofu breath. Eww.

But anyway, CeeCee paused to skim over just about every article shown. It was kind of boring, especially since it was all really random human interest stories. Like this one about this dog that jumped into the ocean from a small speed boat, and they thought he'd died until they later found him still swimming the next morning.

I mean, wow. A dog that stayed swimming for 9 hours. Whoopee.

I wanted to groan really loudly. Seriously, I could almost feel the woebegone groan of lethal boredom bubbling, boiling, within the depths of my stomach, as CeeCee painstakingly searched page after page.

Well, this was boring.

I didn't even know what we were looking for. I mean, I sure as hell wanted to know who these ghosts were. After last night, I was really pissed off. Did these ghosts REALIZE that they had subjected me to the CPR of Paul Slater? How CRUEL is that?!

Until I heard her gasp.

I scrambled up in my chair. 'What is it Cee?'

She turned to look at me, with her violet eyes gleaming. Her expression seemed to read "This is HUGE".

'CeeCee? Tell me what you read,' I urged her. Instead of answering, she pushed the book over to me.

The headline read, "Burning for Learning: Boys killed in tragic fire".

"GILROY, CALIFORNIA: Students and faculty at Fortunashwein Boarding School for Boys, are packing up for home for an unexpected break. However, this is not an exciting time for the boys, and none of them seem too enthused about time off. Earlier this week, a fire torched in the attic of the large school, claiming the lives of four boys, whose names have been kept for the privacy of their families. These boys have been dubbed by the press, the Misfortunates of Fortunaschwein."

I looked up at CeeCee. 'Do you think –'

'Read on,' CeeCee interrupted. I swallowed. My throat had become suddenly dry and my fingers began to tremble as I found my place in the text.

"The motive of the four boys, the youngest age seventeen, and the others age eighteen, is unclear, but there is reason to believe that this could be tied to suicide. The arsenal report states, "There is no evidence of how this fire came about. No cigarette remains, no matches, not even traces of harmful gases were found".'

Whoa . . . this was big. An attic fire killed four boys . . . but how? And why? I mean, they didn't know the origin of the fire. Just that four poor unfortunate boys were stuck in it.

What were they doing in that attic anyway? And if they couldn't find the cause of the fire, what REALLY started it? Could it have really been suicide?

What was I thinking? Of COURSE it could have been suicide. Heather Chambers topped herself, right? And she was still hanging around like a bad smell afterwards.

'Cee,' I breathed, gripping her wrist tightly, 'What does this mean?'

'I have no idea, Suze,' CeeCee replied awkwardly. 'But I think it might have something to do with the sudden closing of the school. Look, this article was dated only two weeks before the official closing of the school.'

CeeCee pointed to the headline that read: "Farewell Fortunashwein."

All of a sudden, that bowl of Cocoa Puffs that Adam had fixed me earlier didn't seem to be settling very well in my stomach.

Hands. Many hands gripping my legs, holding them in the water.

The echoing laughter . . . there was no way that only one ghost could do that.

But four certainly could. And what if there were more?

Why? If these four boys committed suicide, why would they still be hanging around and haunting this place. I mean, they took their OWN life. Why would they, who so desperately tried to escape life, come back?

Unless . . . unless they really didn't want to die.

But who would kill them? Why would they kill them?

The room suddenly grew colder, and the hair on my arms stood up on end.

That was when Adam McTavish and Jack Slater burst into the library.

I swear to God, I almost shat myself. It was just, one minute, suspenseful silence, and then BAM! The door bursts open.

'Hi!' yelled Jack to me and CeeCee, 'Adam taught me a song he made up!'

CeeCee and I looked at each other, and then a silent oath shot between us. We weren't going to tell anyone else about this yet . . .

'Oh really,' I forced out a smile, 'Let's hear it?

Adam ruffled Jack's hair, and he grinned at me broadly. 'This kid's great,' he said cheerfully. 'Where'd you ever find him?'

'Well, we have to take the good with the bad,' I said dryly.

'Huh?' CeeCee asked.

'Paul,' I explained shortly.

'Oh,' she said.

Jack looked at me, grinning. He'd obviously forgotten how much of a loser he thought I was, according to yesterday's episode in the car. 'Do you know that Maroon 5 song from ages ago, Suze?' he wanted to know. His face was animated for some reason.

'Um,' I said, 'which one?' If truth be told, there was one Maroon 5 song that I positively hated with every fibre of my being.

'Harder to Breathe!' he exclaimed, plopping himself on one of the chairs.

. . . Oh, that one. That was okay.

As long as it wasn't "She Will Be Loved."

Adam was still grinning happily. He was obviously mega proud of himself for some reason. 'Okay, Jack, let's sing it to them,' he commanded, 'Positions, men, positions!'

Who he was talking to, we had no idea. He was the only man in the room, although, that can be negotiable. Adam was still this big, smiling little boy. I wanted him to stay that way, too. If he ever got serious, God help us.

CeeCee was smiling at him lovingly.

'Okay,' Jack scrambled next to Adam, 'Ready!' Adam got a beat going with his clapping hands. And they both began singing . . .

'How dare you say that my flatulence is despicable?

So irritating, and extremely hypocritical.

When you walk in the room you smell something real horrible

So bring a gas mask but forget things that are flamable . . . '

Me and CeeCee were already pissing ourselves laughing. Adam and Jack had obviously practiced a little bit of amateur dancing for this, which was really cute. They were crossing over and stuff, and doing things that only gay guys from extremely bad boy bands do, like tilting their heads, and screwing up their faces as they sung. Like I said, cute, but not something to be talked about in public. Then came the second verse . . .

'You scream and cry and beg me not to let another rip

While eating bake beans I advise you to go get a grip

You want to run but I won't ever, ever let you leave

It stinks so bad that you complain that it is hard to breathe!'

That was when Adam threw himself to his knees, and started moving his fingers dramatically. Jack, on the other hand, folded his arms and looked at me and CeeCee, punk-style. It was actually kind of scary. And they sang the chorus.

'When you get dizzy from the overwhelming smell.

You tell me that you would rather be burning in hell.

Like a prisoner of war in a chamber, dying from lethal gas,

"I need oxygen, oxygen, coz of the farts leakin' out of your ass . . . "

"I need oxygen, oxygen, coz of the farts leakin' out of your ass . . . "

'Bah dah!' Jack yelled, and they both struck poses.

'Holy crap,' I hooted. Me and CeeCee burst out laughing, in wild applause. 'HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!' we howled, 'That was awesome!'

Adam leant on the table and got up from his knees, looking thrilled. 'You liked it?' he beamed, 'I was worried that you were going to go all prude on me, Cee,' he grinned.

CeeCee scowled merrily at him. 'As if,' she smiled, 'I've had to put up with you all my life, I think that I can take a few of your fart jokes. Very nice, Adam.'

'Stop corrupting Jack,' I sniggered. 'That's Paul's job.'

'What's my job?'

My heart jumped. I turned to the arched doorway of the library, and saw that Paul had obviously been passing when he'd heard his name. He was dressed like a human being today – well, almost – in jeans, and a skin tight white top that showed off everything, if you know what I mean.

Nothing that I hadn't seen the night before, mind you.

. . . Jeez, if you didn't know about the whole drowning thing, that would actually look kind of bad, huh? As if Paul and I had . . . ugh.

I don't even want to go down that road. It's too nauseating.

Suddenly, something occurred to me. In a panic, I casually slammed the 1969 yearbook closed, and shot Cee an intense look, saying, "He can't know about this," to which she nodded with a look of, "I know, he's a stuck up, arrogant, annoying, snooty loser with an anorexic bitch of a girlfriend who is SO totally a frequent nip 'n' tucker."

Well, that's what I interpreted her look to say. Sue me if I'm wrong?

'Um, nothing,' I said to him quickly.

Which was obviously something. I mean, it was only the other day that he'd told me that my "nothings" were always "somethings."

Which was kind of annoying. That he'd caught on, I mean.

Paul hadn't moved from the doorway. He'd fixed me with a pale blue gaze. Then he smirked. 'You feeling better Suze?' he asked slyly.

I flushed. CeeCee gave me a funny look. 'Were you sick?' she asked.

'Did you vomit? 'Adam asked.

. . . Ew.

'No,' I forced out a laugh, 'I was just . . . um, dizzy, that's all.' I glared at Paul, daring him to tell them all what had happened at the lake behind the school last night.

'Yeah, you were dizzy all right,' he played with the fire. I looked at him stiffly.

'What do you want?' I asked, my voice cold.

Paul raised his eyebrows. 'I'm looking for Dani, if you must know.'

Adam shrugged. 'She's off exploring with Jesse, she told me.'

Paul's eyes snapped to him. He looked angry. 'What?' he demanded jerkily.

Adam blanched. 'Uh, that's just what she said,' he said hurriedly, 'then again, she might have been joking, and I would never know, because I can't see the guy, right?'

. . . Jesse was exploring with Dani . . .

I was suddenly kind of skeptical of Dani's "girl stuff" excuses at why she hadn't been around much lately. I mean, not that I was complaining at her absence, it was doing ME wonders not having to be declined car rides when I'd been in HOSPITAL – yes, I was NOT going to forget THAT – but now . . . it looked as if Dani wasn't having PMS trouble at all. Which is still gross.

What's even grosser is that she was lying to Paul, to spend time with Jesse.

Oh my God . . .

And Paul looked like he was about to spit venom, too.

He gave me an acute glare, before taking off.

No one followed. We were all kind of stunned.

'Are Paul and Dani going to break up?' Jack asked, looking completely crushed.

'No,' CeeCee said quickly, 'They're not. I'm sure Dani's just . . . um . . .'

'I think I know what happened,' I lied kindly to Jack. 'I think that Dani is just so eager to explore the school, and she went off, and you know how Jesse's a gentleman?' I said, to which he nodded. 'Well, I think that Jesse has gone with her just to make sure that she's safe. Which is a nice thing of him to do.'

Yeah, and the Backstreet Boys are all straight, Suze.

Jack looker convinced though. It was obviously a buyable story, because even Cee and Adam looked pretty reassured.

Which meant that they were giving Danielle Moore WAY too much credit.

And it also meant that Paul wasn't giving her enough, considering that they were seeing each other and all.

Which was pretty cool, you know?

I relaxed in my seat again.

Then Adam noticed something.

'Suze, why have you got your flashlight with you?'

I frowned, not understanding what he meant. I looked down, and saw on the table, that the flashlight that I'd gotten from Doc back in Carmel a few days prior, was lying there.

Whoa, I hadn't noticed that I was carrying it around.

'Um,' I mumbled, kind of embarrassed, 'What's wrong with that?'

'Uh, it's daylight?' Adam suggested.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to say it, but I guess having a flashlight was kind of like my safety-blanket. Something I could trust to show the way when things got dark.

Even if that happened to be when the sun was shining.

Again, I shrugged. 'Just in case,' I said.

Which was so true . . .

I looked back at Adam, and saw that he was nodding slowly.

'Oh, shut up,' I scowled at him, and whacked him on the head with it.

'OW!' he yelled. 'HEY!'

I sniggered. Cee gave me an amused yet annoyed look, and took that opportunity to stand up, and give Adam a big, mumsy hug. 'Want me to kiss it better?' she beamed at him.

Adam gave me an exaggerated wink, and said, 'Good work, Agent Spanish Sweetheart!'

. . . I'm going to kill Paul for inventing that.

'Ha!' Adam cracked up, 'I just remembered something. Does anyone here watch X-Files?'

'I do,' CeeCee said. 'But you know that.'

'Yeah, you only watch it so you can disprove all of the stupid theories that Scully comes up with,' Adam grinned.

'Gillian Anderson is hot,' Jack piped up.

. . . We stared at him.

Literally, wasted a moment of our lives, looking at him in astonishment.

And then continued.

'Well, do you remember that episode where they're making a movie about Scully and Mulder?' Adam said energetically, 'remember the flashlight bit, Cee?'

CeeCee laughed. 'Yeah.'

'What flashlight bit?' I asked curiously, grabbing my own kind of protectively, just in case Adam decided to use it in a possible demonstration.

It turned out I had nothing to worry about. According to this episode of X-Files, Adam had his own flashlight.

'Well, what happened was Scully and Mulder were in a graveyard, and then they rolled down a hill, and landed in a coffin, which slammed closed when they fell in,' Adam recounted. 'And Scully was like to Mulder, "Is that your flashlight, Fox, or are you just happy to be lying on top of me?" and Mulder is all like, "Oh, Scully, I love you," and then he starts kissing her, and then Scully breaks away, and is like, "Mulder, I can't do this," and he's like, "Why?" and she's like – '

CeeCee coughed, and continued, because Adam was talking faster, and faster, 'she says, "I have something to tell YOU, Mulder . . . I'm in love with Walter Skinner, our boss. Mulder says indignantly, "What has HE got that I don't have?!" to which she sighs gustily, ". . . A bigger flashlight . . . "

Jack blinked. 'I don't get it.'

I laughed, hard. 'Ha!'

Adam looked at me, in a jokey-seductive way, 'Hey Suze . . . it you ever lose that flashlight you got there, you can hold mine if you want . . . '

Which earned him a hard smack on the head from CeeCee.

'OW.'

I giggled again. 'Don't go flashing your flashlight to anyone, okay?' I said. 'Or CeeCee will confiscate your batteries.'

CeeCee snorted, and Jack snapped, 'What does THAT MEAN?!'

Which made us laugh more.

'You'll know when you're older,' Adam waggled his finger at Jack.

Which made us laugh even harder when Jack pouted heavily.

When Jack threatened to leave, we finally stopped laughing.

I looked at CeeCee and Adam warmly. CeeCee still had her arms around Adam, and they both looked so peaceful. So in love with each other.

. . . How could I have ever grown apart from these two?

It just didn't seem possible. Here were two of then best friends that anyone could ever ask for – smart, caring, funny – and I'd cut myself off from them. From everyone.

I felt ashamed of myself all over again.

CeeCee sighed, 'I wish I was a mediator too.'

I choked on my spit, and Jack and I both said in unison, 'No you don't.'

CeeCee frowned a little. 'Nah, I think that it would be kind of cool – '

'It's not,' I warned her. 'It's dangerous, and it's an ability that I wouldn't wish on anyone. It sucks, doesn't it Jack?'

'Big time,' he said. 'And Paul makes it out to be like some huge gift, like Father Dom used to.'

'He still does,' I said severely. Sorry . . . just, the way Jack said that, it was as if Father D was in past tense. Which wasn't CORRECT. Father Dom was still in hospital, yeah, with massive head trauma. I knew that. I knew that the nurses said he kept going in and out of consciousness, and all though he'd be fine, he needed a long rest, because he'd been under a LOT of stress lately.

Which was weird, seeing as I'd left Carmel five years ago.

There wouldn't be that much to stress about, with me there, right?

It then occurred to me that Jack really WAS a lot different from his brother . . . they both had very different philosophies on the aspect of mediation. But then, that could have just been because one was a shifter, and the other was a mediator.

'But come on,' CeeCee persisted, 'It must be awesome, to be able to make contact with the dead souls that have departed this life – '

'Not when they're bitter and they want to kill you,' I said moodily. 'Trust me, Cee. You're the lucky one here.'

'But – what about Jesse? You were hot for him back in highschool,' CeeCee said in protest. 'Don't tell me HE was a drawback to the shifting thing.'

I paused for a second. Then, staring hard at my flashlight, I said, very evenly, 'That's in the past, Cee. That was a long time ago. Even more proof that this shifting thing is a curse. The fact that I fell in love with a ghost is the very epitome of the burden I bear. I've broken bones for the shifting cause, sure. But it was even worse when I broke me heart. And that's all there is to it,' I muttered.

I looked back up, and saw that Cee, Adam, and Jack were all staring at me sympathetically.

'What happened?' CeeCee asked quietly.

'Never mind,' I said, 'I'm over it.'

Lie.

'No you're not,' Adam burred.

'It's in the past,' I can't even remember it,' I shrugged.

Another lie.

I remembered every second of it.

Adam started to say something, but I abruptly began my story. 'We'd just graduated,' I smiled, 'And it was the night of our Graduation Dance. Not Prom . . . sometimes I get them confused . . . anyway. I wouldn't dance with anyone, you remember. Because I was waiting for Jesse to come. He promised he would, and that we'd dance. Back then, it was all I could have dreamed of. Dancing with the guy that I'd given my heart and soul to.'

Cee dropped her arms from Adam, and sat down on a chair opposite mine, and Adam moved behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders stiffly.

My lips twitched glumly. 'Yeah. I had big hopes for that night. I had a question for Jesse, one which I was so sure I knew the answer to. I was a graduate, now, and I hadn't been accepted into NoCal, like you, because of my late application, and I so I knew that I was going to Boston College in Massachusetts. Which was kind of okay, as long as Jesse said yes to what I was going to ask him,' I shrugged.

'What were you – ' Jack began, but Adam stepped on his foot. Well, I assumed he did when Jack when, 'Ah, what the – oh, sorry.'

I stopped. 'Oh, god, sorry, I'm depressing you all, forget I mentioned it – '

'Suze,' CeeCee said firmly, 'Keep going.'

'Um . . . okay.'

So I did.

'Oh, well, as you can probably guess, I was going to ask him to move with me to Massachusetts. So stupid of me . . . but then again, I was only seventeen back then. I WAS stupid. In everything that I did. I was so happy, that night, because I knew that I was going to spend it with the guy I loved, who I thought, loved me back.

'I went to the chapel, just like he'd told me to go,' I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, and started vaguely plaiting three small locks of it, 'And . . . I was dressed in pink. It was a very soft rose pink, and I felt so pretty. I'd gotten my hair done in the mall, despite my mallophobia, and I had this pretty necklace on . . . simple and elegant. I was waiting by the alter, and it gave me the warmest feeling,' I smiled. 'As if . . . okay, I know this sounds really pathetic, but like . . . I was getting married, or something.'

I gave a little laugh in preparation for them to all starting mocking my pitiful past fantasies, but no derision came. So I continued, again.

'And when Jesse materialized there, in the chapel,' I shook my head softly, 'I fell in love over, and over, and over again.' I ran my fingers through the baby plait I'd just done, smoothing my hair, and began another one, not thinking about it all that much. I was falling back into the past, and God, I knew it.

'He was standing by one of the pews,' I reminisced. 'He was so tall, and looked so nice. Even though he didn't look any different, he always looked perfect to me. I smiled at him, and then he asked me to dance. I can't even remember the song . . . I was just too happy to be in his arms to hear what music was playing in the hall. The music was quiet, because we were in the chapel and couldn't hear it as strong as everyone in the gymnasium could. But still,' I shrugged, 'I was the happiest I'd ever been. I thought my life was finally at an all time high. My head was on his chest, and he was whispering things in my ear that I couldn't even understand . . . but it made my heart race al the same . . .

'And even when the song ended, me and Jesse just kept revolving slowly, and gracefully. He was such a great dancer. None of the embarrassing Victory Dance that he did after he won poker,' I said offhandedly to Adam. 'Be glad you didn't witness that. It was kind of scary.'

Adam grinned weakly.

I sighed. 'After a few moments, we stopped. I didn't even care that much that Kelly Prescott and Paul Slater, of all people, had gotten Prom Queen and King anymore. That was their own business. There, Jesse was making me feel more beautiful than I had ever felt in my entire being. Like he loved me in every aspect of the word. Love . . . ha. Like I said, I was stupid. Because what I asked then ruined everything.'

CeeCee's eyes were riveted on me. I kept plaiting my hair, not noticing what I was really doing.

'Stupidly, I asked him about moving with me. To Massachusetts. That's when his eyes, which had been so romantic and all, suddenly went kind of aloof again. And I kind of panicked. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he couldn't go. That he refused to move. And I didn't understand why. And his eyes just kept getting darker and darker, and I didn't understand why . . . '

I was still nervously plaiting grouped strands of my hair . . . faster now.

'That was when he said that we couldn't be together any more, and I think that was about when my world just . . . crashed. Like a car. It went straight off the cliff. And – '

Only, suddenly, I couldn't just keep telling this story. No, my mind was transported back totally into the past . . . into that moment where I'd ruined everything.

- 8 -

'I refuse to go with you, Susannah.'

That's what he said. It took forever to sink in. I swear. I couldn't feel anything for several seconds. He wasn't supposed to answer like that. He was supposed to pull me into a passionate embrace and mutter consents to me, in between zealous kisses.

He was NOT SUPPOSED to refuse to come with me! No, no, no . . .

'Susannah . . . this cannot be enough for you. I cannot. You will see, Susannah, that sooner or later, I will not satisfy you. I am dead, and you have always known that we cannot be. You will want someone who you can introduce to your friends and family. They cannot see me.'

'That's fine!' I babbled, 'I'll, um, wrap you in bandages, Jesse! And, um, say you'd been in a car accident! It'll be fine – '

'No, it will not. Susannah . . . I can't even provide for you. There is no future with me. You must know that. And certainly not . . . children.'

'Jesse!' I said in horror, 'I'm seventeen! Jesus Christ! Please, don't - I don't want those things . . . I want you, that's what I want . . . '

I appealed to him with my eyes, for my throat had temporarily closed down. I could feel my nose getting itchy and my eyes stinging. And my skin was undergoing the strangest sensations I'd ever experienced. It felt like every inch of skin on my body was suddenly deadly corrosive.

Jesse ran his hand through his hair. He was shaking. I couldn't understand why . . . why he was saying these things. It was a joke, right? I mean, honestly, KIDS?! I only just went for my LICENSE.

'Do not say that,' he growled softly, 'It is not true . . . you do not feel like – '

'Jesse, don't you DARE tell me how I feel!' I shouted at him. Now, I was starting to get very scared. A horrible, HORRIBLE thing was happening . . . and I didn't know how to stop it. It was like a flood was on it's way, and I'd just found out I had no wood to build the arc.

'Susannah, I cannot control anything that you feel. I'm just telling you what I know. And what I know is that in the coming years, this may not be enough for you,' Jesse reasoned.

HE WAS TALKING CRAZY-TALK! NO, NO, NO!

'Jesse, you're wrong, I – '

'I am not. Susannah, you must know that this is how things are. We . . . we cannot last forever. There are obstacles . . . . time being one. You know this, Susannah.'

Time . . .

'Jesse!' I yelled, as my heart felt like it was refusing to beat properly. It was barely pumping, and in an erratic pattern, no less. 'Jesse, I don't care! I love you, and that's all that matters! . . . Unless . . . you don't wanna see me wrinkly . . . oh my God . . . ' I stepped back from him quickly, 'Jesse, is – is that it? You don't want to . . . to be with me?'

JESSE DIDN'T WANT TO BE WITH ME!!!! OH, WOE!

'That's it, isn't that?' I demanded. 'You love me, but you don't want to be with me. Hell, do you even LOVE me?!' I questioned suddenly, because I, for SOME REASON, wasn't so SURE of that right now. 'Was this just a temporary thing, Jesse? You, having been alone for what, a hundred and fifty years?'

I looked away sharply. The chapel was suddenly FREEZING cold. I didn't feel beautiful anymore . . . I felt like a slut, or something. I didn't even know why, but that was how Jesse made me feel, at that second. Like he'd used me for kissing purposes . . . and that was all he'd wanted, not to move in with me or anything . . . I felt like a petrified statue.

The candles on the altar seemed so much colder now . . .

'Susannah . . . I do love you. With all my soul, I do. But . . . that's all I have, Susannah. A soul. A soul that is supposed to be elsewhere. You know this, Susannah . . . '

The candles' flames were flickering . . . dying . . .

'And what? I'm holding you back? You want to be somewhere else?' I asked, making every effort to swallow down the lump in my throat. There was a horrible lump in my throat . . . he wasn't supposed to say this . . . he was meant to be kissing me, and whispering sweet Spanish that I didn't for the life of me understand . . . and loving me. Not hurting me like this, no . . .

'I-I do not know what is holding me back, Susannah, but when I find out, that will be the end of me . . . of us.' His hands, I noticed, were shaking. But he had a soft hardness in his eyes. Like, he was trying to block out something very painful . . . or not show it. 'This is not easy for me. I want to be with you . . . but this is for the best.'

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

'I can't . . . I can't believe you're doing this . . . ' I whispered, barely audible.

My mouth was open very slightly, and I felt a deadly chill. Like I'd fallen through an ice lake, into the freezing water below . . .

'I cannot believe I am doing this either,' Jesse held his shaking hand out and looked at it. It was glowing. It always glowed. It served as a constant reminder that Jesse did not belong to this Earth any longer, and yet he was far from welcome in the spirit plane. He was stuck . . . stuck in some sort of limbo between the two, an outsider in both parts.

A hollowness overtook me, combining ruthlessly with the feeling of terrible, everlasting cold.

'I love you, Susannah. I wish you well . . . only the best. I may want to go with you, querida, but that is the last thing you need.'

He thought he knew what I needed? He didn't know anything . . .

Jesse stepped closer to me, reaching out his shaking hand to touch my face. His fingers were warm, but they made my icy face sting in pain. He let his eyes take over for a bit . . . searching mine for something, anything that could save us.

He found nothing.

Nothing.

I stepped back. 'You have no idea what I need,' I said in a low, furious voice. He turned to look at the statue of the Mother Mary. I stared at his turned head. My eyes were getting wetter with each passing second.

He was breaking my heart.

I thought that when Father Dominic had been saying this a year earlier, it had been terrible. But from Jesse – directly from him – it was so, so much worse.

'Susannah . . . please. I never meant for things to become like . . . like this. We cannot be. And as much as we try, I fear there is always some obstacle,' he explained, staring at the statue. Because he couldn't bear to look at, God forbid, ME.

'So what? Jesse, that's the great thing about this! It's exciting, Jesse. This is . . . it's like a ride. I don't want to get off. I really don't. If you jump off now, I'll puke. I will!' Ever a way with words, right? I ran up to him, and stood before him. He was so tall . . . I gabbed the folds of his white shirt, and sunk lower than I thought it was possible for me to go.

I begged.

'Jesse, please . . . there's always obstacles, you know that. We'll beat them all! We can, because love is powerful! We can beat the crap out of the obstacles! I know we can!'

I was pathetic . . . I was desperate . . . I was so vulnerable . . .

Jesse's hands moved to my waist awkwardly. He couldn't even BEAR to touch me. 'Susannah, do not do this. Some obstacles are just too great, Susannah. Time is our greatest foe . . . we do not stand a chance.'

I was so scared . . . so scared . . .

'Fine . . . I won't go. I'm not going to college then. Nope, I'm staying. If you're not going to come, then . . . I'll just, um, keep working in Carmel. Yeah . . . Jake can weasel me into a job at Pizza Peninsula, and I can get an income and I can - well, mum and Andy can buy me a house . . . and I'll be here. With you! I'll stay, for you!' I was breathing harder, and harder, and harder.

'What I'm doing is for you, Susannah,' Jesse said firmly. 'I cannot let you throw your life away. It is not fair on you.'

'No . . . I'm not throwing it away . . . never, if you're there . . . Jesse, you're not just come bin that I'm pouring myself into . . . you're Jesse. I love you . . . You're not a ghost, or Hector, or some guy who refuses to get out of my room, you're Jesse.'

Jesse slid his shirt from beneath my fingers. As if he'd banned my right to touch him anymore. I felt like everything was slipping away, too . . .

'And you...you are Susannah Simon. You the most brilliant woman that a man could ever hope to meet. Got to college, Susannah. You deserve better than this pizza place you speak of. You – ' he broke off, looking down for a moment, 'You . . . deserve better than me.'

'No,' I insisted. My soul was slipping away . . . my heart, my mind, my ability to love . . . my rationality, everything . . . I was crying. 'Jesse, please!' I ran back to him, and threw my arms around his neck again. This was pathetic. I was begging for him to take me. I felt like some prostitute that a rich man had refused to see anymore. I was so low . . . Beneath him, right now. His face was millimeters from mine now. I felt his hands, again, come to my sides, and he pushed me gently away from him.

'No,' he declared firmly.

And I knew, then, there, that he wasn't going to change his mind . . .

'Goodnight, Susannah.'

'You mean goodbye, don't you,' I said coldly. A lone tear streaked down my face. And he was not there to catch it. He was watching me cry.

That was the cruelest thing he could ever do. Break my heart, and watch me cry.

'Goodbye is hard to say, Susannah. It's to permanent for my liking.'

'But that's what this is,' I said wildly, 'You're not coming with me. You don't want to see me again. So have the decency to SAY GOODBYE!'

He didn't say what I needed to hear, for this to be concluded. Instead, he was heartless enough to say, 'Have fun at your Graduation Dance.'

'Fun,' I echoed flatly with a humourless laugh. There was nothing funny about it.

Inside, I was dying the deaths of all those who'd ever been tortured.

I couldn't believe that I didn't see this coming. Who was I kidding? Why would Jesse want to stay? I was just this stupid seventeen year old. This pathetic girl, who happened to be able to see him. How could I have been so freaking STUPID?!

And then, he said it.

'Goodbye.'

My universe, as I knew it, stopped moving. Nu,b . . . that's how I felt. My stomach was threatening to fall out completely. I felt sick . . . so incredibly sick.

'Now you say goodbye, Susannah, I cannot leave until you say it,' Jesse whispered.

'No,' I said stubbornly, and yes, snidely, 'I'm not saying it.'

He raised his still shaking hands to his face. 'Please?'

My voice was still ridden with despair. But it wasn't my nature to take this with no anger. Tears lined my face, but I was furious. How could he DO this? How COULD HE?!

'PLEASE?!' I screamed, 'PLEASE, JESSE?!'

'This time I'm not going to say 'please,' Susannah. Go on and live. Do right. Serve ghosts and respect them, Jesse added with fury. He was annoyed with me, too. Past that. 'Go and save the world. You can do anything, Susannah. Without me.'

'No, I can't! I can't! Not without you! I'm NOT leaving, either!' I moaned.

'You can. And you will. Go. Now.' His fists were at his sides, and they were turning as white as his scar.

I would not be pathetic. I would NOT go down without a fight.

'I won't. I'm not going anywhere.' I was determined as he was. More so. My death glare was proof of that.

'Go or I shall make you. And trust me, Susannah, it WON'T be pretty,' he narrowed his eyes at me.

'Try me,' I goaded, stepping forward up to the challenge. He wouldn't hurt me. And even if he did, it would be nothing compared to what he'd already done. I'd been destroyed on the inside. That was all that mattered, so anything else didn't count. Hell, it's only a body after the soul has left.

Passion, hurt, and anger were fueling me.

His eyes softened for just a moment . . . 'Susannah . . . ' But they hardened again. 'Go.'

'You don't have to say goodbye. I will let you go with that. Now, before I lose my temper, LEAVE.'

'NO!'

'I will not say goodbye again, Susannah. Leave this chapel, now.' Jesse pivoted on his heel, so his muscular back was towards me, now facing the altar. He muttered several loud Spanish curses.

'I'M NOT GOING! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT I FEEL, JESSE! I KNOW WHAT I FEEL, YOU CAN'T CHANGE THAT!' I shrieked at him in a volume that made Father Dom's birds nesting on the top of the chapel to take flight in alarm.

Facing the altar, Jesse began muttering things . . . I didn't understand them. 'Dios te salve María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo . . .'

'JESSE!'

'Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús . . . '

'Jesse! LOOK AT ME! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!'

'Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.'

'PLEASE – '

'Amén.'

That was when I shoved him over, hard. He fell, sprawled on the ground, on his stomach. I stood over him, panting. He turned so he was sitting on the ground, leaning back on his hands, staring up at me with clouded eyes.

'You said you loved me, but I'm starting to think that was all a JOKE,' I spat at him, 'because you don't REALIZE what you're doing! If you were telling the truth, you wouldn't be doing this! You can't possibly defend yourself with that "it's for the best" crap!'

'I AM telling you the truth, Susannah. That WE can never happen. WE are not supposed to happen. It's unnatural, Susannah, and it isn't right,' he barked up at me.

No, no, no . . . no, no, NO, NO, NOOOOOO!!!

'IT HAS HAPPENED! I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU'RE DENYING IT!!! I screamed at him, by voice crackling, 'I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU'RE DOING THIS! YOU'RE HURTING ME! PAUL WOULDN'T DO THIS!!'

. . . Oh, no.

'I mean, I –'

'I think you should leave,' he said, his voice now different. He returned to his feet, and turned away.

'It wasn't supposed to come out like that, Jesse,' I whispered, but he pointed a shaky finger towards the chapel entrance.

Things were now messed up, beyond repair.

'Are you daft, Susannah?' he asked angrily, turning back to me, 'You must leave. I told you to go. No more . . . no more of this.'

'This?' I choked. 'Loving you? You want me to stop, Jesse?'

' . . . Yes,' he nodded solemnly. 'If it will make you leave, then yes.'

How could he be so cruel . . . how?

I was starting to get an inkling of exactly WHY Heather Chambers had killed herself.

'Goodbye, querida.'

A rage so ferocious overwhelmed me. 'Don't . . . call . . . me . . . querida,' I said in a low, enraged growl that came from the depths of my wounded heart.

I stepped back. My eyes were wide, and they were swimming. Then, I muttered the three most powerful words in the history of my vocabulary.

'I . . . I hate you . . . '

'W – what?' Jesse asked, bewildered. His eyes widened in alarm. 'Susannah – '

'What, Jesse? You think we can still be friends? Pen pals? Say "hi" in the street? You just told me goodbye. I just told you how I feel. Now I'm ready to leave. Go screw yourself, cadaver breath.' I kept backing away, my eyes filled with devastated tears.

Somewhere inside me, I meant those words. They were born of the hurt he'd so suddenly caused.

Religious things in the chapel began to shake. The candles did, their flames flickering dangerously now. The pews were coming a little loose, and paintings of the Stations of the Cross were threatening to fall and shatter on the cold, hard ground.

The huge light bulb way up at the top of the chapel was also wobbling dangerously. I stared at it.

'Goodbye,' I said.

The bulb pelted down, and shattered on the ground. It was gone. In a million pieces.

'Goodbye, Susannah,' he said stonily.

'I'm glad we agree on that,' my voice crackled.

This was how it was to end, then? Yes. It was not in my nature to mourn. No, I was known to be devastated . . . and then extremely PISSED.

All the candles on the altar went out. The flames were dead. They had once burnt brightly, but now they were gone. As if they could never be lit again. The chapel was cast into darkness.

Complete darkness.

Because Jesse had gone.

. . . I slid into the nearest pew, and began to cry like I didn't know it was possible. Things, precious things, were breaking inside of me.

And that was when it came on. She Will Be Loved, by Maroon 5. God, I hated that song right then . . . The uncanny relation to what had just happened was abominable. The words, they cut my like daggers could not.

- 8 -

Beauty queen of only eighteen,

She had some trouble with herself.

He was always there to help her,

She always belonged to someone else.

- 8 -

I drove for miles and miles and

Wound up at your door

I've had you so many times but

Somehow I want more

- 8 -

I don't mind spending everyday

Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay a while

And she will be loved.

And she will be loved.

- 8 -

Tap on my window,

Knock on my door,

I wanna make you feel beautiful

- 8 -

I know where you hide

Alone in your car

Know all of the things

That make you who you are

- 8 -

I know that goodbye

Means nothing at all

Comes back and begs me to

Catch her every time she falls.

- 8 -

Please don't try so hard to say goodbye . . .

8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

'Oh, Suze . . . '

For the first time in about ten minutes, I stopped talking, and looked up to find CeeCee, Adam and Jack staring at me. CeeCee looked heartsick, Adam looked shocked, and Jack looked horrified.

I'd been telling the story tonelessly. Not like the one in my head. A blanker version. With thoughts, and actions, and occasional dialogue. Not the heartbreak that I had been feeling.

Now do you understand?

Why I cannot look at Jesse in the same way, ever again?

This had all come before that letter. Oh, God, after Grad Dance, a few days after, was when I went to the Point with Paul. I was hurt. So undeniably hurt. I only went because of what had happened to Jesse, and Paul seemed to eager to help me. I'd been baited, once again. Lured there by a promise. The first time, it had been the promise of knowledge, and that time, it had been the promise of compassion.

Oh, I'd got compassion, all right.

Emphasis on "passion."

I'd been so upset, and Paul had had the nerve to take advantage of my vulnerability. It was like he'd violated my trust.

I seriously couldn't understand the hate that God felt for me. These were the mistakes that I made. And yet, God offers no forgiveness for me. I cannot forget these things that I did, the people I hurt, the lies I told . . .

I was being punished now. I knew it, in some weird way. Cole was the embodiment of my punishment. And God had made me incapable of fighting back against him. I'm no wimp. It wasn't that I couldn't take Cole Kennedy. He was an average sized guy. But it was the effect he had on me . . . like I was paralyzed. I couldn't explain it. So if Cole hit me, I, by some ungodly force, could not reciprocate that action of violence.

This was MY purgatory.

Ha . . . and to think, Paul said I didn't deserve it . . .

I wish I could believe him.

'Suze, oh my God, I had no idea,' CeeCee said the next moment. Her hand was on her mouth in utter shock, and Adam was dead still.

'You've kissed Paul before, haven't you,' accused Jack.

Adam stepped on his foot all over again, and Jack whined.

I stared at Jack, seeing how freakishly similar he was to his elder brother's appearance. It was eerie, that.

'Yes,' I said flatly.

'I knew it!' he said, 'When you said yesterday that you've seen his room, I knew that – '

CeeCee coughed, and Jack had the sense to shut up.

I blinked sadly. 'If you don't mind me saying, this all started because of your brother.'

I'm serious. I think that Paul was the variable that caused my life to be like this. Of the thousands of variables, he was the one who I could blame it on, from almost any angle.

It gave me a break from blaming myself.

'Hey,' Jack said defensively, 'It's not his fault.'

I smiled a little. I wasn't about to argue with Jack about this. He had no idea what had gone down. I didn't want him to know, either.

He looked skeptical. I didn't care. I had no reason to try and convince Jack that his brother was a bad person. I already knew it. Despite how much Paul had appeared to have changed, he still relished the thought that I was suffering. I had every reason to believe that he didn't really care about the Cole thing. And if he did, he was only helping me so he'd look like the hero in the end.

Because, God knows, Paul just loooooved playing the hero. Right from that time when he rescued me from those cops at the Pebble Beach Resort, when they came to question about Dr. Clemmings' death.

Were-you-aware-that-Suze-is-a-minor my ass. That act was so transparent.

I smiled at CeeCee. 'Look, I've told you, okay? Can you not repeat that to anyone?' I eyed Jack intensely. 'Especially you. You breathe a word of that to Paul, and I'll tell your girlfriend Mary that you think she's fat.'

Jack's eyes went wide. 'You wouldn't.'

'I certainly would. AND I'll say you think she's facially challenged,' I said dangerously.'

'And I'll get medieval on your hiney,' Adam warned, seizing my flashlight, turning it on, and leaning over Jack's shoulder menacingly, shining it in his eyes.

The kid squinted against the glare, looking freaked. I told Adam to tone it down a bit before Jack called for his lawyer, which would, just to annoy me, probably turn out to be Paul.

And then he'd sue me for . . . I dunno what, but he'd use huge words.

'I won't tell,' Jack said in a high voice. 'Or may lightning strike us all where we sit.'

'Suze'll make a hell of a cute corpse,' Adam winked at me.

– 8 –

After that, I left CeeCee to continue researching. Or swooning over Adam, which ever came first for her. Most likely the latter. But whatever. I had things to do now.

So, these ghosts . . . they were the Misfortunates of Fortunaschwein? God, tongue-twister much? Why couldn't they just call the Misforts, or something? Short, and sweet, and illogical. Ha, like me, right?

Totally.

So, these four boys were burnt to death, were they now? In the attic?

Well, that's exactly where I was headed . . .

I made my way down the hall, and up the stairs, flashlight in hand, when I saw a very bitter looking Paul coming down the stairs. There wasn't even enough time to hide, or turn around, or jump off a cliff or anything, to avoid him.

Bummer.

He noticed me, and a smirk replaced his scowling expression. Awkwardly, I continued up the stairs, and when I tried to move straight past him, he obviously felt obligated to block my way. Continuously. I moved, he moved. Then he started going down the stairs again. Kind of forcing me to go down, too. It sounds impossible, but he managed it.

Damn it.

'Uh, hey,' I said.

'Now where would you be off to?' he asked.

'Sorry, but my mother told me not to talk to strangers,' I said to him.

He chuckled a little. 'Where's your basket of goodies, Red Riding Hood? Or your hood, for that matter.'

'Hid them in my Grandmother's house, burnt it all down, and danced around the inferno?' I suggested innocently. 'Once she was out of the house, of course.'

'Makes sense,' he said, leaning on the banister. Oh, great. He was leaning. That meant he was getting comfortable. That meant that he was getting prepared to have a conversation.

Ugh. Kill me.

As much as it was illegal to admit it, he looked kind of hot in the white top. It was all tight fitting and everything, and even though it had no brand name on it, it still must have cost a ton. Money which he was more than happy to cash over.

'What makes sense?' I asked.

'You choosing to burn this so called house,' he shrugged. 'It's what we do.'

. . . Okay . . . say whaaaaaah???

My confusion emerged on my features, for his smirk widened. 'I will not tolerate your ignorance,' he said, in a degrading impersonation of Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. It was seriously weird to see Paul trying to do character impressions off a Mike Myers movie. I mean, there's just some things that will make me go insane before my time.

That was one of them.

'Ignorance?' I said ignorantly.

He sniggered a little. 'Shifters, Suze. Didn't you know?'

WHAT WAS WITH THE CRYPTIC?!?!

I was getting annoyed, so I turned away from him, and continued up the stairs. He actually FOLLOWED, despite the fact that he'd just come from that way.

'We can control fire, Suze. It's a shamanistic ability,' he called after me.

Well, THAT made me give him the time of day.

'What?' I breathed.

Wait a minute . . . what was my problem? He was lying. Of course he was. He was messing with my head again.

Paul grinned at me. 'I can't believe you didn't know that,' he shook his head. 'You even saw me do it.'

'When?' I snapped.

'That day, in the chapel, at the Mission, with the bikers when we were attacked,' he said wryly. 'Don't you remember?'

'Oh, the day when I saved your life?'

'Yes,' he nodded. I've been meaning to talk to you about that, too . . . '

I ignored him, and frowned, remembering back then . . .

– 8 –

. . . Pissed, I staggered up again, and was about to teach Bob a never-ever-push-me-on-top-of-Paul-Slater-ever-again-you-freak lesson, but Paul said lazily, 'Don't bother.' And then, I AM SO SERIOUS, with a single look, Biker Bob just spontaneously combusted! As in, fire all over him. Like Paul had poured gasoline on him and lit a match or something . . .

– 8 –

I raised my eyebrows. 'Oh yeah, right,' I said, but I wasn't so sure of my scepticism anymore.

'I'm serious,' he nodded, coming up one step high, so he was two below mine, 'Fire is something that shamans – which includes shifters and mediators – have control over. We can generate it, redirect it, and in general, control it. Just because you haven't tried it, doesn't mean I'm wrong. And I'd know Suze, since I'm more aware of our "ability" than you ever will be.'

The way he said that . . . it was as if . . . I'd NEVER beat him . . .

So true, right?

I gave him an awkward look. I actually felt kind of dizzy . . . you know, overwhelmed. More things that I could have learnt, had I not screwed everything up. 'Er . . . I don't really have time for this now . . . ' I stammered, and ran the rest of the way up the stairs, hoping to God that he wasn't staring at my butt, or something. That would have been embarrassing.

Why did he DO that? No, not stare at my butt, I mean, drop things on my like that? Was he lying? Was this like the Soul Transference thing? Hell, was THAT even possible? Probably not.

Stupid fire thing. Wasn't real. He was just trying to get a reaction out of me. He seemed to enjoy that.

And I felt even weirder, just to think that he was playing Big Bad Wolf to my Red Riding Hood.

Scary.

Because you know how Red Riding Hood ends up.

Eaten.

. . . Erm, not that I think that Paul will EAT me. Well . . . it COULD happen, right? I mean, if he could convince himself to resuscitate me, he sure as hell could succumb to his cannibalistic urges, right?

. . . I am so damn weird.

All together now: "YES, Suze, YOU ARE SO DAMN WEIRD."

Touché.

By the time I reached the top floor, I had completely forgotten to ask Paul if he'd found Dani. It didn't look like he had, because he looked frustrated still. But I dunno.

I maintain that Dani is a skank.

End of story.

No, seriously, she's like Zoolander, isn't she? 3 percent body fat, 1 percent brain activity. Scary, huh?

Whatever. I was glad that he hadn't brought up last night. I mean, that was just damn embarrassing. Fancy me getting dragged underwater. Just my luck, right? Dumb luck. Only, my dumb luck really WAS dumb.

Whatever.

I felt so strange that I'd relayed that story to CeeCee, Adam and Jack. It was probably a really stupid thing to do, right? I mean, that was one of the most personal memories of my life, and I didn't actually expect to tell them when they asked me to. And now that I had, I was regretting it. It wasn't that I didn't trust them not to spill my secret, just . . . well, part of me WAS worried that it might accidentally slip out one day.

Which it MIGHT.

Accidentally.

One day?

Or under the influence of alcohol?

I can just SEE Paul getting Adam and CeeCee drunk, and demanding to know the truth . . . that would be SO LIKE HIM!

Ugh.

Well, on the top floor, I was walking down the hall. It had a LOT more cobwebs than the other floors, let me tell you. And the dust was plentiful, too. Mr. Head probably DID hire a maid . . . only, he probably called the wrong number and got a hooker dressed in a maid's outfit, who wanted to dominate him, when she heard his name.

. . . Again, it could happen, right?

That was when I heard a sound. I didn't know what it was. Wasn't a door . . . too loud. Maybe it was . . . no, I really didn't know. I clutched my flashlight a little harder.

Then, I knew.

I'd found Dani and Jesse.

I was standing outside the room they were in.

Oh, PLEASE. Don't make me laugh. I know what you're all thinking.

NO, Danielle Moore and Hector de Silva are NOT going the ol' horizontal tango.

. . . You sick people.

No.

It was even worse.

Danielle was asking Jesse about me . . .

Well, SUE ME for thinking that's worse, OKAY?!

I saw them both in the room. It was filled with dusty cardboard boxes – was there ANYTHING in this house that wasn't dusty?! – and the window looked so dirty, the sunshine coming through looked horribly strained. Jesse appeared to be innocently bending down and looking in a box for anything of interest. Dani was just staring at his ass.

I'm not even kidding.

She was ogling MY ex's BUTTOCKS.

Which I thought was JUST DAMN RUDE, YA KNOW?

The fact that I was eavesdropping is BESIDE the point.

So, yeah, I was just standing outside the room, peaking through the little slit between the hinges. It wasn't much to see, but I could hear perfectly.

'So,' she asked in a whiny voice, which sounded rather dusty also, like she'd spend a day screaming and was now had a very sore throat. 'How did you meet Sue?'

'Who is . . . Sue?' Jesse asked absently, unfolding the flaps of another box and pulling out things like aged shirts, and uniform ties.

'You know,' Dani said with huge eyes, 'Duh, Sue. The brunette one who's chubbier than me? Honestly, Paul said you and her had a thing and you don't even know her name – '

Yeah, that's because no one but STUPID, ANOREXIC FREAKS CALL ME SUE, YOU MORON.

AND WHAT DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT KNOWING NAMES? BET SHE CAN ONLY IDENTIFY HER ONE-NIGHT-STANDS BY THE SIZE OF THEIR –

Um . . . shoes . . .

'You are, of course, referring to Susannah, I assume?' Jesse said in a cold sounding voice. That's mah boy!

'Oh, same difference,' Dani cackled airily. 'Oh, just imagine if Paul was going to sue her. It would be suing Sue! Isn't that funny?'

. . . Wow . . . lame . . .

Jesse's laugh was positively forced. 'Yes, very funny,' he said boredly. 'These uniforms seem to date back to –'

'You didn't answer my question,' she tossed her violently red hair. Also FAKE. AND today, I noticed she was wearing contacts.

Ha! CONTACTS! They were an electric blue, a colour which the average human being can not hope to be born with. It was so phony it was almost disgusting.

OH MY GOD! SHE HAS FAKE NAILS TOO! AT LEAST MINE ARE REAL! AND I MAKE THEM LOOK VERY NICE!

I bet her mini-skirt's not even real leather.

I bet it's only . . . um – you know – 50 PERCENT LEATHER!!!

Fakes like her MAKE ME SICK.

And I'm not even BRINGING UP the implants this time . . .

Okay, so what if I am?

My God . . . I can't believe that I used to like British accents . . . she was SO ruining the WHOLE culture for me! All English people can THANK DANIELLE for me now hating your accent. Honestly, she made it sound so shrill!

Jesse looked awkwardly at the Botox Barbie. 'Susannah and I . . . we met almost six years ago. She was just sixteen. I had met my end in what was to be her bedroom.'

'You haunted her room?' Dani spluttered, 'Well, wasn't Sue a lucky thing?'

Jesse said, through gritted teeth, 'hardly. As I understand it, I ruined every date with a boy that she ever had.'

I'll say.

Dani cackled madly. 'Sue went on dates? Oh, my Lord . . . oh, I'm forgetful, this is quiet Carmel we are talking about,' she gushed.

Why . . . I . . .oughta . . .

Yo, gimme five . . . I've gotta call in a favour from the Mafia . . .

'Indeed,' Jesse went on, refolding some of the shirts, seeing that Dani clearly wasn't interested in when they dated back to, 'She was quite sought after. I saw the looks that the young men gave her in her pre-adolescent years, looks that she always seemed to miss. I even caught her step-brother eyeing her at times.'

Doc?

Wait, not Dopey –

EWWWW!!!!!!!!

TMI, TMI!! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!

Dani laughed nastily. 'Oh, you lie,' she scowled with a hard smile, and waggled her finger at him. It was as if someone had painted her lips on. She wasn't a pretty girl, now that I looked at her. She did not smile with her eyes.

Or perhaps it's because she's a complete and utter uber-bitch, that she looks so hideous to me.

I dunno.

Whatever. She was the supermodel, I was the unemployed freak. So I think that evens it out, no?

Sigh . . . how depressing.

'So, was she in love with you?' she probed, 'I'd imagine you were quite the ladykiller.'

Jesse's gaze snapped to Dani like quick-silver, and he growled, 'I am NOT a murderer, Danielle, do NOT confuse that with the fate that I met – '

'Oooh, no, no, no,' she said soothingly, 'I meant, you're just obviously so gorgeous.'

'Oh,' Jesse calmed down. Then he coughed clumsily, obviously kind of embarrassed. 'You – you think so?' he patted his hair a little.

Oh, please . . .

'Sure!' Dani sand, moving forward so she had moved out from the slit that I was peaking through. 'If you were alive, I'd bet you'd be on the cover of Cosmo with me.'

Oh, Dani's not vain. She's just VAIN.

Jesse didn't really understand that too well. I mean, he knew that Cosmo was "a book of some description that Susannah liked to giggle at when she'd eaten too much chocolate," but that was a long time ago . . .

It also happened to be the one that'd he'd given me that time, when he said he had me right where he wanted me . . .

But let's just forget that little bit.

Now THAT'S embarrassing.

Ugh.

'Yes,' Jesse said finally.

'Yes what?' Dani asked boredly.

'Yes,' Jesse said slowly. 'I do believe that Susannah was in love with me . . . and I with her.'

I kind of when still there.

'Oh, children can be so silly, can't they?' Dani cackled again, doing her WWW number. WWW of course, standing for Wicked Witch of the West. Honestly, this girl was a genuine bitch. Or maybe I can call her the BBB. Bogus Bitch of Britain, on account of how all her body parts seem to not be real.

Jesse was silent for a moment. 'No . . . it was real. True love, as the fairy tales acclaimed it. A beautiful, celebrated thing. Alas, Susannah loathes me now, and I do not blame her.'

I . . . I did?

Yeah. Of course I did.

Dani clicked her tongue in a way she must have thought sounded sympathetic. 'Well, she's just a stupid little girl, isn't she?' she said in a babying tone.

'No, she is not,' Jesse sighed. 'She is not. She has every right to hold me responsible for what I did. I . . . I though I was making the right choice, you know? I left her . . . I thought that I would be holding her back from living, but it was my absence that has done so. Not to mention, I thought she was in love with P – uh . . . no one . . . But I believe that I made a grave mistake.'

'Ha, grave,' Dani sniggered, 'Get it? You're dead, grave, ha – oh, sorry.'

There was another silence.

'It's not your fault, Jesse,' she said smoothly, like she thought she was charming the birds off a tree. 'If she couldn't survive without you, then I think she's a sodding loser.'

'Danielle,' Jesse said in a tone of warning, 'Do not speak of your colleague in this manner. Susannah . . . she's not grown up properly, not since she left for college. I think that she is still a seventeen year old, in many ways.'

HEY!

I had a very nasty thought here . . . what if Danielle was touching him? I mean, she'd moved closer to him, I couldn't SEE her anymore, what if she had her sickly hands on him? EWWW. How gross!

. . . I had to know.

Oh, shut up.

Carefully, I moved my feet so I was now peaking through the actual doorway a little. There, I saw –

SHE WAS TOUCHING HIM! SHE HAD BOTH HER HANDS ON HIS SHOULDERS!!!

GRRR!!! MOOO!!! BAAAH! SHOO!! JESSE DOESN'T WANT TO BE TOUCHED BY EXTRA-TERRESTRIALS, DANIELLE.

As I shifted my weight onto my right foot, a loud creak was let out.

No! Stupid floorboards!

With a gasp, I moved back hurriedly.

'What was that?' Danielle asked worriedly, 'Jesse? Can you check if it was one of those ghosts? I heard Paul saying that there may have been more than one.'

Wow . . . Paul was slow.

Goodie.

'I do not sense ghostly presence,' Jesse said calmly, 'There's nothing to be afraid of, Danielle. You may let go of my arm now . . . any time now.'

Then, I heard a very soft tingling. Huh? Had someone rattled the chandelier?

'Enjoying yourself, Susannah?' asked a deep voice from behind me.

I swear to God, I almost wet my pants. Eww, I know. I spun around with yet another sharp intake of breath. Jesse looked somewhere between amused, and accusatory.

I swallowed. 'Um, I was just – you know, dusting, because it's – you know . . . dusty?' I feebly blew at a cobweb on the wall, giving him a hopeful look.

Of course he didn't by it.

'I'd appreciate it, Susannah, that you make your presence known, as I you asked me a long time ago, to do for you. I respect your requests, I would like you to not hide from me,' he stated.

I went very red. 'Uh, I was walking by, and I didn't want to interrupt –'

Jesse smiled at me, and I looked away. 'I'm sorry,' I mumbled, 'I'll go – '

'Jesse? Is it one of the – oh, it's you,' Dani snapped, as she came bustling out of the door. She looked even skankier in full vision. Her skirt seemed miles shorter than yesterday's, and that's saying something. It was black leather, and her top was a silver halter-neck, which dipped very low, to just above her belly button.

How the hell did she hold 'em in?! CELEBRITY TAPE?!

. . . God, I hate this girl . . .

'Um, hi,' I said in a display of pure genius, 'I'm, um, dusting?'

'Oh sure, Sue.'

'Suze,' I glared, at the same time that Jesse went, 'Susannah.'

I bowed my head, my cheeks aflame.

'What are you doing here?' Dani demanded. 'Jesse and I happen to be exploring, and having a very interesting time.'

Jesse looked a little pained.

'Oh,' I said, 'Um, yeah, so I've got, um, more dusting to do – '

'You missed a spot,' Dani said idly, looking down the filthy hallways.

Bogus Bitch . . .

. . . Of Britain.

With a mortified shrug, I retreated, when Jesse called my name. 'Susannah . . . wait . . . '

I turned back to him, not meeting his eyes . . . Dani was right, I AM a loser.

'What?'

'Yes, what?' snapped Danielle in annoyance. 'You heard her, she has dusting to do. Go dust, Sue, frolic among your own kind, namely, the dirt.'

'Danielle,' Jesse said angrily, 'That's not – '

I shook my head tiredly. 'Don't bother, I'm gone,' I sighed. 'You can't hold it against her, Jesse. Supermodels are all like that. It's either that, or Tourette's. More than likely, she's just a bitch.'

So sue me? I DON'T LIKE BEING CALLED SUE.

. . . OR DIRT.

'Susannah,' Jesse then scowled at me, 'please, you're not like this – '

'How would you know what I'm like, Jesse?' I demanded. 'Just a question.'

Jesse shook his head at me, and then at Dani.

'That's it,' he said, 'I refuse to talk to either of you until you sort out your differences. I will not come if you call, you must learn to live with each other.'

Oh, THAT'S MATURE.

'Hello? News Flash? This is the girl who left me cripple in a hospital,' I informed him angrily. 'She's not exactly someone I want to be left alone with?'

'Yes, what is Sue sits on me? I'll be crushed!' Dani cried.

'I'm NOT fat!' I said in fury, 'You bul – '

'This I precisely the issue, Susannah, Danielle. You must learn what Padre refers to as, "team trust." This Supernatural Investigations Agency will crumble if you do not work together in harmony.'

. . . No, seriously, I wanna know . . . is there such thing as spectral crack?

'Jesse, look – ' I started, but with a determined glare, he dematerialized.

WELL THIS WAS JUST GREAT.

'Screw this,' Dani scoffed, and marched to the stairs. However, some sort of boundary stopped her from going down.

Oh, this just keeps getting better and better . . .

'Okay, very funny Jesse,' I rolled my eyes, 'Let the nice lady and the pig go now.'

'You're the pig,' Dani shrugged. 'You said it.'

'You're NOT nice,' I shot at her.

I couldn't believe I was in this situation. How could Jesse be so CRUEL?! I mean, honestly, who prevents a perfectly innocent girl from fleeing a certain area?

Well – you know – uh, BESIDES Paul, after he's tried to jump you.

'I'm not taking any of your crap,' I shook my head at Dani. 'He can't keep us here forever. You forget, we're ALIVE Jesse. We actually need food, and water, and un-dusty oxygen? Yeah. Because you seem to be FORGETTING THAT.'

Danielle gave me a snobby look, crossing her arms and looking more like I-Dream-Of-Genie than a supermodel. Her whole demeanour reminded me of sticky, green, bubbly, intestinal mucus. She was just so SNOTTY and ARROGANT. Jesus, WORSE than Paul Slater himself.

It was SICKENING.

'Go jump off a cliff,' she said.

'Go jump of the Empire State,' I retorted, 'You're in America now, sweetheart.'

'I'm perfectly aware, Agent Spanish Shitheart,' she replied smilingly. But I could see, in her freaky fake blue eyes, that she was bitterly loathing me as much as I was disgusted by her.

'I'm going,' I said. 'I don't care if it's not back downstairs, as long as it's away from you.'

'Yes, I can understand how being in my presence would make you feel inferior,' she cooed in mock sympathy. I so, SO wanted to deck her one with my trusty flashlight . . . but I've never exactly leant towards the violent side, when it came to the living, unless my life was in mortal peril.

But I was . . . willing to make . . . an exception . . .

Nah, I turned the other cheek. And I stalked off in the direction, opposite to the stairway where Jesse's stupid spectral barrier was.

Bah . . . if I was a better shifter, I would have SO been able to break through that . . .

But I wasn't. So stop complaining, SUE.

Gah . . . Stupid Wicked Witch . . .

I stormed down the hallway, eerily aware of how spooky this was. I mean, I was alone, apart from Danielle, who was about as useless as a quadriplegic in hopscotch. And it's not like her presence was all that comforting. Hell, she'd probably take this opportunity to off me because there was no one to see . . .

My luck, huh?

THANKS A MILLION, HECTOR.

Hell, I'd KILL him if he wasn't already dead . . .

That was when a rather distinct smell intruded my nostrils.

Smoke.

I sniffed around, expecting for there to be a raging fire somewhere close, but no. There wasn't. Only, as I was moving towards the end of the corridor more, I noticed that a lot of the walls had been mysteriously blackened.

No, strike that.

They'd been burnt . . .

My eyes fell on a charred door. It had soot all on the floor, and was black. No other door was as damaged at this one.

This was it . . .

This was the attic in which the four Misfortunates of Fortunaschwein had perished under wrath of fire. Four boys had been killed in this room . . . they'd lost their lives.

Then again, they'd also recently perved on me taking a shower, so they we're that worthy of pity.

. . . Sickos.

Frowning, I carefully grabbed the doorknob, hoping it wouldn't crumble beneath my fingers, or something. It was horribly discoloured from burns and rust. With a little effort, the door broke away from the ground, in which it had formed a nasty dark crust with. Ew . . . at times like this, I hate shifting. With the daunting possibility that you're going to get dirty, and all.

The smell here was pungent here. The stench of smoke now attacked my senses. I felt like I was breathing in second hand smoke. It was strange to think, that, after thirty years, the smell from the fire had still lingered. I looked up the short, black stairway, and saw that there was, indeed, a room above.

Wow, Suze, you're good. You managed to figure out that there was an attic where the attic should be. Juuuuust brilliant.

I'll be up there with Einstein and Edison one day, you just watch me.

Ugh.

That's me. A mighty mouse if there ever was one.

With the anxiety that the stairs would collapse beneath me, I warily made my way up them, stepping on the outer edges of the overcooked wood. Hehehe . . . overcooked . . . Ugh. Yeah, it took a few seconds longer than needed for me to get to the top, but I managed. When I finally got onto the landing, I looked out at the room that lay in front of me.

Sheesh . . . someone certainly dropped a few ciggies here.

Just a few, Suze?

Curiosity got the better of me. Instead of walking out like a good little minion, I stepped in, examining how horribly burnt everything was. Man, this fire had been a real killer. My eyes were almost tearing, the smell was so bad. Someone had obviously wetted everything after it was burnt, hence the terrible pong. There were spare beds up in here, spare burnt mattresses, sheets, more boxes, long poles which might have been gold a long time ago, a few used cans of beer – burnt – and a lot of footprints on the ground. I squatted down to get a closer look at them and concluded that there were definitely two different shoes, if not more.

These were the footsteps of four boys, as they'd been dashing around, trying to get out of this place.

A coldness swept over me. I reckoned that these boys didn't commit suicide . . . the footsteps were too panicky. Or maybe two of them were unwilling to kill themselves, and the other two were the murderers. I could only guess. All I knew was I was standing in a room where the dead had been.

Little did I know that the dead were still there . . .

'Would you look at that, boys . . . didn't I tell you that they'd send the pretty one up?' a chillingly deep voice reverberated off the charred walls.

Um . . . I think I'd found the ghosts . . .you know?

Oh, shit.

– 8 – . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Shit, indeed, Susannah.

Shit indeed.

NOW. REVIEW, OR . . . UM . . . I'll EAT YOU.

With . . . um . . . salad . . .

And, er, Cranberry Sauce . . .

Aww, shutting up.

Lolly's kind of happy. She wrote about 30 pages in one day.

Further proof that holidays are AWESOME.

And that she has no life.

Sorry Hayley! I WAS ON TOO MUCH OF A HIGH TO NOT POST, AND I DIDN'T SEE YOU ONLINE THIS MORNING!!!

Oooh . . . didn't you just loooove the Dani/Suze bitch fight? That was SO fun to write, hahaha. I think that Jesse's kind of annoyed.

You should wait to see what we've got in store for Suze, now that Jesse "refuses to come when she calls."

And also, are you starting to understand why Suze isn't to fond of our darling Jesse? I mean, he was kind of cold. Of course, he was ONLY doing it because he loved her too much, but still.

As for the pairings?

We DON'T KNOW.

Well . . . we do. But we're not saying.

Let's just say that there is an even that will earn us a LOT of flames. And another even that will earn us a LOT of nice reviews.

Not a word. Hehehe.

LOVE YOU ALL.

Lolly and Hayley (who ACED her PSATs! Come on, Hayles, don't be shy . . . smile for the nice people!)

. . . LOOOOOONG REVIEWS OR PAUL WILL SUCCUMB TO CANNIBALISTIC URGES AND EAT YOU ALL.