There are several different types of jokes.

There are the kind Adam tells, mostly fart jokes, which are pretty funny.

I mean, flatulence is funny.

Then there are the dirty, perverted jokes . . . the ones that are so sordid they make you blush, but you can't help but laugh at. And Dani's fire-engine red hair that looks like a clumsy Edward Scissor-Hands cut it . . . well, that's a joke too, really. Robin Williams is funny, too. And Texan people trying to pull off Australian accents is a total hoot.

Or vice-versa.

And THEN, there are the jokes that are so farfetched and unrealistic and out there, that they aren't even funny. You know, those kinds that are so long and detailed that you can never tell the joke properly because you get too wrapped up in the details? And then when you finally get to the point, it's not even funny? It's like, "Um . . . okay . . . you just wasted five minutes of my life."

Yeah. Well, that's what my life is. The never-ending joke. A totally UNFUNNY joke, at that.

The truly horrific part . . . I'm pretty sure the punchlines could totally punch.

AND IT HURTS.

I turned around slowly to face my uncertain and quite untimely doom. I was standing in the cold, dark shadow made by four boys who stood before me. And when I call them boys I mean that they were young. But despite their age, they all appeared to be in peak physical condition. You know, for a bunch of dead kids.

A bunch of dead kids, who surprisingly enough, turned out to be hotties.

I'm not even kidding.

THESE GUYS WERE HOT.

The lot of them had to be about eighteen, though some looked even older. They were totally guys I would have swooned over in high school if I hadn't been so devoted to Jesse. I'm sure Kelly Prescott and her gaggle of girly-girls would have eaten them up back in their day. Or now, even, if they were alive.

They all seemed to be kind of diverse too. It was like looking at a four-member boy band. A boy for every girl, you know? Like, there was this good-looking one who was clean-cut and had this gorgeous mane of shiny brown hair paired with these lovely gray-blue eyes that twinkled in dark humor, even though he appeared to be clean-cut and scholarly. His small, pink lips were turned up in a sloppy-sly grin, which totally contrasted with his sharp squarish nose.

Next to the gorgeous brunette was this brawny African American, who stood with his muscular arms crossed in front of his equally muscular chest. There seemed to be darkness in his manner that matched the dark color of his skin and eyes quite well, for he looked so intimidating and large compared to little ol' me.

Well, he was definitely large in comparison to the next in line, who was only just an inch or so taller than me, as opposed to the other two who were about 6'3. This one reminded me of a young Heath Ledger, with his floppy blonde hair and big brown puppy-dog eyes. He looked a lot younger than the rest of the guys, especially with his sort-of round face, and he lacked arm muscles. I couldn't tell much about the rest of him since he was dressed neatly in his school uniform, which consisted of a navy blue blazer with the school's seal, a white shirt, a regulation tie, and nicely pleated khaki dress pants. His uniform looked nice and orderly, while the other boys had their shirts untucked, buttons unbuttoned, and sleeves folded. But he still looked like such a sweetie . . . like little-brother-cute.

Only, the way that they were all grinning at me? Well, not so sweet.

You see, I was just starting to remember that these were four eighteen-year-old boys. Well, okay, one was seventeen, (probably blondie) but still. I mean, yeah, I sure did not want to be stuck in a room with four hormonal boys who hadn't exactly gotten any for thirty years. Granted, I hadn't gotten any in my twenty-three, but . . . shut up.

I blinked at them all. I was kind of incapable of doing much else, sorry. I mean . . . these guys WERE hot, okay? A nice, diverse bunch of dead hotties. Granted they were five (and six) years younger, but still. YOU try stand in a room full of hot guys, and think about their sad age.

Or the fact that they possessed no pulse.

'She doesn't say much, does she?' the brunette was smirking at me with sinister eyes. There was something about him that made me feel very, VERY nervous. He had a wise-guy smile, unlike Adam's happy one. This guy . . . he was dangerous.

And I won't even START on the black dude. He looked plain deadly. Like brussel sprouts.

'I know, huh. Cat got your tongue, sweets?' the dark-haired one asked. I forgot to mention him didn't I?

I coughed a little, my blood going kind of cold. 'Oh, me? Um, uh, I'm um, here to, uh, you know, help you – '

'Help us?' The dark haired one was still grinning. He was, I admit, the best looking of the lot, with his shiny black hair and sharp, chiseled features which included his pointy, dimpled chin. He had these eyes that seemed to glare at me. Like, he always looked like he was angry. But I had a very bad feeling that he wasn't so angry with this turn of events, if you know what I mean. 'How can you help us?'

'I can think of a couple of ways,' chuckled the brown haired guy, letting his gaze slide down from my face. The African American one laughed this very deep, very hollow laugh. I swallowed nervously.

'Um,' I said, shuffling back a little, 'Actually, I meant – '

'You wanna help us?' the tall, dark haired guy stepped forward on my retreat, 'Go get your little red-headed friend too, and that's all the help WE need.'

I went very red, which made them all laugh harder.

'Um, actually, we're more of a . . . spiritual guidance agency?' I squeaked, 'You know, we, um, help, uh, unrested souls to . . . ' my breath caught in my throat when the dark haired one took another step closer to me, his eyes burning with a very worrying glimmer, ' . . . uh, move on?'

He stopped. 'Move on? I don't think so,' he said, still grinning. 'After all this time . . . I think that this afterlife deal's about to get a whole lot better.'

My eyes widened. 'Oh, um, how so?'

They just chuckled at me, not even dignifying that very obvious question with a verbal answer. No, instead, the black guy and the brunette slowly moved forward a little, too, so they were, like, standing either side of me, almost. Like scavengers. Vultures. Only, they were kind of the dead ones here. I stiffened. 'Um, actually? I have to go. Would you believe that? Just when your afterlife was starting to perk up. Isn't that such a – '

A large, powerful hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I jumped a little, 'Oooh, no! No touching, off! Rah!' I snapped, and slapped at it in annoyance, taking a definite sidestep away from him.

'Oh, where are our manners?' The guy with the black hair shook his head in mock self-punishment. 'My name is Robin, my lady. I am an ex-attendee of this fine establishment.'

The other sniggered. 'Get over yourself, Robbie,' the brunette said.

'Don't mind him,' Robin murmured to me, 'That would be Nathaniel, a rather . . . complacent lad, if you will.'

Nathaniel elbowed him, and again, another break of deep, masculine, adolescent laughter. I winced a little, because they were still moving closer to me. As if I wouldn't notice. Well, blondie wasn't doing much of anything, actually. Just watching and smiling.

Robin scolded the other guys. 'Oh shut it, you lot, you're scaring her. We don't want to scare her . . . yet,' he added with a dark smirk.

More laughter . . . the same laughter that had rung out through dark hallways . . .

I looked sideways at the African American, and saw that he was smirking at me. Like all the other guys, but this guy . . . he was really scary. His eyeballs were the only lightness in his face. It was like, two white spots on a sheet of very deep brown. He reminded me of a black coffee, with two marshmallows chucked randomly in the mix. Only his eyes, too, had dark brown irises, and even darker, very large pupils. His eyes scared me. Well, that, and his obviously very large and muscular arms. It was like, if I laughed at him, he'd snap my neck without hesitation.

Robin caught me staring. 'That's ol' Charles. Fine man, and if you don't mind me saying, not a person you'd want to annoy.'

'Indeed,' Charles' grin broadened at me, and he took the time to very slowly crack his knuckles. I hate it when guys do that. It's kind of gross, you know?

And, um, kind of creepy too . . .

'Um, yeah,' I mumbled. 'Er, well, that's great, and all, but people are kind of waiting for me to come back – '

'No they're not,' Nathaniel cocked his head to the left arrogantly. 'You're stuck up here . . . with the red-head. Little bonding session, I hear. Well . . . how about we go grab her too, and we can all . . . bond.'

The others cracked up. 'God, you are so lame,' the blondie said to him.

Nathaniel's face changed from laughing to furious at whip-crack speed. 'Shut your face, Bartie-boy.'

'Bart?' I echoed dumbly.

And this was BEFORE the Simpsons, presumably. Nasty stuff.

'Oh yeah, forgot the squirt, didn't we?' Robin grinned at Nathaniel. He grabbed the blond one – Bart, I guess – by the scruff of his collar, and shoved him forward. The little guy made some struggle, but he wasn't exactly a worthy opponent for his very tall friend. 'This is Bartholomew. Not really anyone notices him. He's a little too close to the ground, you see,' Robin shrugged, and Bart glared up at him, before brushing him off and stepping back angrily.

I nodded slowly. 'Uh huh. Well, um, Bart, Robin, uh, Charles, and . . . '

'Nathan,' Nathaniel tossed his head a little.

'Yeah . . . it's been a real pleasure. But I really have to cut this short, and – '

I didn't finish my sentence, instead, turning on my heel and making a run for the stairs, but with a shower of blue light, Robin materialized in my way, standing right over me, so I almost bashed into him. My eyes met his in alarm. There was a DEFINITE animalistic flicker in his eyes. I swallowed.

So reminiscent to Cole . . .

'Where you going, sweets?' he shot me a disappointed look. 'We were just getting to know you.'

'I'm really, really boring,' I assured him. 'Ask anyone. They'll be glad to . . . ' he stepped forward again, so I ended up moving back, into the room again, ' . . . um, agree . . . '

My throat felt dry. Like it was suddenly devoid of all saliva. I felt like I could grate cheese on it, or something, it was so parched.

He kept backing me into the other guys. When I was surrounded by them again, they kind of all closed in on me. I felt seriously outnumbered. I mean, yeah, okay, one guy is hard enough to get rid of sometimes. And sure these guys weren't bikies. But I got the distinct impression that these guys were a lot smarter than a bunch of leather clad, fat men.

No offense to anyone if there dad is a bikie or anything . . . but that would be just embarrassing.

I felt fingers come to my hair, and again, I felt my body go really rigid. It was like, rigor mortis. Only, um, I wasn't quite dead.

Yet.

'Such pretty hair,' complimented Nathan slyly from behind me. I flinched as he made contact.

'So shiny,' Bart said.

'Um . . . that's very . . . perceptive,' my voice crackled. Nathan continued to run his fingers through it, until I had the sense to try and move away again.

Only they weren't letting me go anywhere, I soon realized.

Okay, this was not good, I tell you, NOT GOOD. I know they say you shouldn't judge people when you first meet them, but this was different. So different. Because not many people attempt to kill you before they formally introduce themselves like these boys had, you know?

I had a feeling of complete deja-vu, as the guys all reached out and touched me, Nathaniel's hands still knit in my hair, while Robin had his grip on my shoulder and Charles and Bart took to clutching my arms. Squirm as I might, there was just no way out of it. There were just too many of them. And I didn't want to make them angry.

'I wouldn't want to intrude on you all,' I choked. I mean, it felt like they were all holding me under that cold, dark water all over again. And this time, they weren't going to rest until the job was finished.

Until I was finished.

'Oh, you won't be intruding,' said Robin in a sickly animalistic tone. 'In fact . . . you can stay as long as WE like.'

Charles chuckled.

It was the same sick, twisted laughter I recognized from the dumbwaiter incident with Jack. Where Jack almost died. It was disgusting just how these boys – especially Robin – could just laugh about it. It was even more disgusting that even after all of that, Robin's dark smirk made me shiver . . . and not just because of the bad vibes.

I just hate to say this, I really do, but Robin's sinister manner gave me the type of reactionary shakes that Paul gives me. Paulie shivers. You know, bad in a good way. Which is so NOT good, especially when the guys you get the shivers for are killers.

Okay, FINE, so Paul hadn't tried to kill me lately, but there was totally that time he left his brother and me in Shadowland. I know, that was SO long ago, but you tend never to forget things like that. Hello, that was nearly fratricide AND murder.

Oh, but I had to 'forgive' him for that. You know, because he saved my life the night before and all. But I can't forgive him for ruining my life those many years ago just because he gave me mouth-to-mouth. He took advantage of me at my weakest, most vulnerable moment. Once everything started looking up again, he crushed it all with lies and deceit. And what's worse, he made a promise to me . . . a promise he swore on his life that he meant. One he didn't keep . . .

"I'm not going to leave you."

He owes me a life. Especially since he took mine and killed it those years ago. And it totally won't come back, even if he does go around saving my life and saying that my eyes are pretty. UGH! It was so infuriating that I couldn't figure him out. Why couldn't he just be a normal, simple man?

Why am I thinking about Paul at a time like this?

I have other fish to fry.

You know.

Before they fry me?

The four had me enclosed in this sort of semi-circle now. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I backed away and made a run for it to the stairs AGAIN, and this time, I ALMOST managed to escape – I mean, I was DOWN those charred stairs and everything –

Until, of course, the door slammed right in my face.

Bummer.

I tried the semi-burnt doorknob, but it was locked. I turned back, trying to avoid the hungry stares coming from the lustful boys.

Scanning the blackened room, I noticed that there were no windows in this attic. In fact, it was the perfect place to keep someone locked up. You know, like one of those dungeons they always glorify in the fairy tales? Dark and musty with no way out, and no one to hear you scream?

Yeah. Just a little like that.

'That door's always been a hassle. Don't know how many times it locked on us. I always said we should get that thing fixed.'

I turned my head to glare at the blonde one, Bart. He hadn't been saying much earlier, but now that he had, he looked to his friends for approval. They all chuckled darkly, and Nathaniel even added, 'Looks like you're stuck. Luckily, you have us for company.'

But when my eyes met with Bart's, he looked at me with a fleeting look of sympathy, almost as if he were apologizing to me.

And suddenly, I realized, that maybe I DID have a chance for escape after all. I'd have to punch the blondie. Not literally, of course, but with a blow of guilt that would make him feel sorry for me.

I feigned a pathetic frown and shifted my weight, looking at the door in an "all hope is lost" sort of way. Bart noticed my gaze and stuttered, 'Uh . . . guys, we should, um, be polite and offer her a chair or something.'

Well, it wasn't unlocking the door, but it was a start. Unfortunately NOT the start I was looking for.

'Um, that's okay, really–'

'Again with our bad manners,' Robin piped up. Just then, a chair magically flew into my legs, and I crashed onto it haphazardly, letting out a yelp as Robin, who was standing behind, grabbed my shoulders and held me there forcefully. His fingers were like metal skewers, and if I moved, they'd pierce.

He leaned down close to my ear and purred, 'There. Is that better, ma'am?'

My head began to buzz, as I tried to struggle from under Robin's icy, lifeless hands. But my struggle came to no avail, especially when the other guys gathered around to watch as he moved his head from my ear to near my neck.

Like a vampire, in bloodlust . . .

My heart pounded in my chest loudly with each dangerous millimeter, until I heard a light tap on the door that caused Robin to jump away from my neck . . .

'Oh, Sue? Sue, who are you talking to? Have you got schizophrenia or something?'

Dani. Thank heavens she was there. Though, I'm not sure if the heavens should be thanked for sending a demon, but I was in a moment of grave desperation. They could have sent Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, for all I cared.

Wait a minute. I couldn't bring Dani into this. Though she's probably the bitchiest Brit I know, I couldn't carelessly fling her into the same peril I was in, even if I did hate her guts.

'Dani. Leave. Now,' I warned her calmly. Charles was glaring down at me in a dominating manner, hinting that if I made any rash moves, that I'd have to deal with him. I hoped that Dani would take the hint and leave, if not for my safety, at least for her own. Not that I cared about the Brit bimbo or anything. I just have morals, unlike her.

And besides, she might take the credit for finding the ghosts. No way would I let her take the glory of it. It was MY time shine . . .

. . . if I could only make it out ALIVE.

'Hey, is that the other one? The redhead? Open the door!' shouted Nathan, as he rushed enthusiastically down the stairs and over to the burnt door. 'NO!' I yelled, bolting out of the chair in an attempt to prevent Dani's entrance. But Robin gripped my shoulders more tightly, so tight that I was sure he'd leave a mark. It hurt so much. lLke when you stop suddenly on the freeway and your seat belt catches you and nearly chokes you.

The click of the door unlocking seemed to echo in my ears for ages. Dani rushed up the stairs, her face in a state of shock. Well, as much emotion as she could show with all the Botox. I broke free from Robin's grasp and rushed to her, grabbing her wrist, and yelling for her to run back out, but Nathan materialized in front of the door down the stairs, grinning up in a sadistic way.

Oww . . .

So yeah. We were stuck.

This was just not cool.

Very slowly, I turned around, putting on my meanest looking face that I could muster, in the situation. Dani, I noticed with disgust, was looking at all of the guys with slow, dragging looks from their feet, raking her gaze up to meet their eyes. The four Misfortunates sure noticed it, because that was when Robin stepped forward, his head tilted to the left in a way that I could only describe as hungry.

Only, well, he was kind of dead, so I didn't think he was all that hungry for food, if you catch my drift.

'Well, hello,' Robin nodded, a subtle grin of deep satisfaction stretched across his thin lips. I swallowed, and glared at Dani, whose eyes had been lingering on Charles' very pronounced biceps. Bah. Trust her to be ogling the goodies when the goodies wanted to kill us.

Stupid supermodels . . . is that ALL they thought about?!

I seriously wonder how Paul can possibly bear to date someone as shallow as Dani. And she's obviously this huge flirt. I mean, at least I was PISSED about being held captive in a room full of angry, decadent ghosts. She looked like she'd just got an invite to Johnny Depp's birthday to be held at the Playboy mansion.

It was sick, I tell you. Sick.

Not that Paul DESERVES to have someone who is faithful to him. I mean, come on. Please. He totally deserves to suffer the wandering eyes of Danielle Moron. I mean, Moore. But I just gave him a lot more credit. I thought he'd see through her pathetic act.

Obviously not, though.

Danielle gave Robin a dazzling smile. 'Oh,' she simpered, the way she'd do in her stupid high-gloss magazine photo shoots, 'So you're the ghosts that haunt this place. I never expected you all to be so . . . '

'Young,' I snapped. 'Here's us expecting to find some crusty old janitor, and we get a bunch of little boys. Great. They probably still pick their noses, Dani. Come on, let's go. I'm – '

'I think I made it clear that you're not leaving until I want to let you go,' Robin, who'd obviously taken offence to my nose-picking crack, glared at me. I tossed my hair. Dani was here, so I totally couldn't show that I was scared, at all. Which I kind of was. But not so much, now that she was here. Because, she's not the greatest company, but hey, at least if I run, she'll probably keep them busy for a couple of hours by telling them in detail all the things she has to wear as a model.

. . . Or, um, something to keep them distracted.

Maybe pull a Julia-Stiles-10-Things-when-Heath-is-escaping-out-the-window-from-detention?

Yeah.

But I think that Robin was kind of angry with me. It took me a moment to realize that the thing he found most insulting was the fact that I'd called them "boys."

Yeah. I came to this conclusion when he materialized RIGHT in front of me, seized me by the shoulders, and hissed, 'I am NOT a little boy. I'm more of a man than that stupid pirate and that sissy-square, with his stupid flamboyant suits – '

'Hey, Paulie's suits are incredibly sexy,' Dani remarked at him. I was still glaring into the hollow gaze of Robin. Hell, I didn't even know his last name. Angrily, I twisted sharply, and slipped away from him before he could, you know, get a better grip or anything. This was something he didn't exactly approve of, because his hand shot out, and he snatched up my wrist, before flinging me across the room.

I'm so serious.

I was FLUNG.

RUDE, HUH?!

I bashed into the wall. It wasn't a very painful collision, but it was still RUDE.

'Hey!' I protested, 'Watch the merchandise!'

I kind of shut up when Charles and Nathan took a definite step towards me, looking more like bouncers than school kids.

Honestly. Of all the possible ghosts, we had to get four arrogant, hormonal ass wipes. My luck, huh?

I took a deep breath, mainly for patience, and said, 'Look. We're here to help you. You aren't supposed to be here. You're supposed to all be . . . I dunno, strumming on a golden harp in heaven, or shoveling burning hot coals in hell, or something. I don't know. But you're not meant to stay in this school. I know that. So if you don't decide to move on pretty soon, I'll make you move on.'

Robin stopped looking at Danielle, and he turned to give me a very amused look. It occurred to me that I should only try to be intimidating when I am NOT feeling intimidated myself. Yeah. That would be handy.

'Oh?' he said softly, crossing his arms. Everything was so dark in the room. Ash, everywhere . . . a room of death and destruction . . . 'you? YOU will make us move on?'

I shrugged nervously. 'Um . . . well . . . pretty much, I meant . . . you know, with my friends and . . . '

His grin was getting broader, and I felt my face heat up. My GOD, this SUCKED. I did NOT like feeling intimidated. It was just NOT working with me. These were a bunch of KIDS. Why the HELL was I feeling freaked?

Oh, I can think of eight reasons.

Yeah. Their collective fists.

Dani wasn't doing all that much to help, either. She seemed to be finding all of this kind of funny. Well, either that, or she obviously liked to watch me squirm. Because I was totally up with the squirmage there.

Well, what she did next proved that she was a total skank.

She sidled up to Robin, and put her hand on his shoulder very slowly, so she kind of grazed her fingernails up his arm first. Robin shot her a very curious look before his angriness evaporated, and he grinned at her cunningly.

'Well, finally, someone wants to play,' he growled at her, turning to face her and placing both his hands on her hips. I watched, appalled. I was totally for walking, RIGHT there and then, if Dani wanted to have an orgy with them, as she was obviously indicating. But still, there was the chance that with me gone, they WOULD do something dangerous.

'Dani, what are you doing?' I demanded heatedly.

She gave me a lazy look. 'Isn't it obvious Sue? We evidently aren't getting out of this sodding room, if we don't behave.'

'Behave?!' I echoed in indignation, 'I think that's one thing about you that needs WORK. Because you're obviously not very good at keeping your tongue to yourself,' I added angrily. 'I'm thinking that you don't even WANT to leave.'

'Like you do,' she scoffed, as Robin's hands her roaming up her back. She looked like she was used to it, too. As if models got felt up daily, or something. Which was seriously gross. 'It's not like anyone else would give you this type of attention, Sue. I bet you'd just love it if one of these guys grabbed you and started to– '

'Shut up!' I yelled, my voice high. 'Get away from him! YOU'RE the one here who's seeing someone, Dani, and you're not exactly being as committed as he'd like.'

'He'd understand,' Dani said simply, 'That I'm getting myself out of danger.'

. . . Supermodel logic is WEIRD.

I shook my head at her in disbelief.

'Oh,' I said scornfully. 'Right. In that case, Robin, is it? Danielle here would just LOVE to stay and entertain you some more. So I'm free to go, right? Yep? Oh, that's nice, see ya – '

I spun furiously away from the pair of them, when Nathan's hand grabbed my upper arm. I tried shaking him off, but Charles came on my other side.

'HEY!' I objected, 'I have BETTER things to do than watch – '

'There's only one of her,' Nathan said, 'and four of us.'

WHAT WAS THE PROBLEM WITH THAT??? Robin gets to kiss her brains out, Charles and Nathan get a Jumbo boob each, and Bart can . . . I dunno, PAINT HER NAILS OR SOMETHING.

I chose not to voice this, for fear of sounding very crude. And crude is rude, especially in front of a few dudes that look like they're ready to strangle you with one hand. And the other hand, I guess, they could use to fondle Dani with. Multi-tasking . . . ghosts were good at that.

Speaking of ghosts, I think it's safe to say that this is JESSE'S fault. I mean, sure he wasn't the one that PUSHED me into the room full of sex-crazed boys, but he left Dani and me in a totally vulnerable position. And you know what's terrible? He wasn't even answering my calls. Not a single one. Not even the classic "Jesse, get your ghostly ass over here or else you won't have one very soon".

I swallowed.

Hard.

'Well, there are still not enough of us to go around,' I reasoned, 'because Dani and I make two, and there are four of you, as Nathaniel wisely pointed out. So that means there'd be two guys per girl–'

Nathan advanced on me, backing me into one of the burnt walls, and I got the message that that was the whole point. I noticed his proximity was now so close that I could feel his excited ghostly breath on my cheek.

I glanced nervously at Dani, who had the rest of the guys crowded around her, even the quiet blonde one, who seemed a little less quiet now in the company of Miss Balloon Boobs. I heard Bart ask, in a sort of nervous chatter, 'Are you really a model? I mean, I can tell you are and all, it's just–'

I got so distracted by Nathan, who tipped my head towards him, that I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. But I'm sure Dani absorbed all the extra attention like a sponge. But me? I just wanted to be left alone. In fact, I'd rather be in the library scourging through a bunch of out-dated books. I'm not up with the sponge-action.

'So much for the two-on-one rule, huh?' I asked Nathan, my voice gaining a squeaky quality I hardly recognized as my own. Nathan smirked down at me and replied, 'More for me, then . . . '

And with that, he pulled me aggressively into him by the belt loops of my jeans. I squeaked in objection, but Nathan ignored and stared impatiently into my eyes with his own gray-blues, which seemed to gleam darkly at me. The looked pretty alive for someone who died about thirty years ago.

My body tensed against his. I felt hot . . . very hot, and dizzy for some reason.

But that was when he KISSED ME.

I'm so serious.

AN EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD KISSED ME.

I WAS LIKE . . . A PEDO, OR SOMETHING.

Right as Nathan's lips closed over mine, I closed my eyes in a sort of dazed stupor. It was the instantaneous reaction to my reception of a kiss. I'm SORRY. But that's how it was. It's like, "Oooh . . . some guy has bothered to come into contact with me . . . HANG ON!"

You know?

Suddenly realizing that this was NOT good, I pushed him away and squeaked, 'EW! Get away!' like he had cooties or something.

Nathan looked at me, puzzled. And yet, you know, not. In fact, he was still looking pretty haughty. 'What, dollface? Am I doing anything wrong?'

'No–' I responded automatically, 'I mean, YES. Yes, you are doing something wrong. You're kissing me. If you haven't noticed, I'm about 5 years your senior. Meaning I'm older. And this,' I said as I looked downward, 'would probably land me in jail in ten seconds flat if you weren't –'

'Dead?' Nathan offered.

'Well, yeah.'

'But I AM dead.'

Well, he had valid point there. I couldn't think of anything intelligent to reply with, so I just stared dumbly at him.

'And since I'm dead,' he added, with a developing grin, 'then this wouldn't be illegal.' With that, he planted a small, arsenic kiss on my lips. 'Or this,' he said, moving towards my neck, tickling me with his lips.

Oh God . . .

And that's when it happened.

I snapped like a twig.

I was sick and tired of being the wimp, the weakling, the loser. I wanted to be like the old Susannah Simon: young, energetic, and kick-ass.

This kid wasn't Cole Kennedy. I knew I could kick his ass in less than twenty seconds. Why hadn't I kicked his ghostly ass to Uranus the moment he first tried to advance on me? Psychologically speaking, it must have something to do with the fact that I let Cole take advantage of me so many times that now I felt weak in the presence of all men. Which, sadly, was true. Around Paul, I was a loser; I was a speck of lint on his high-class business suits. And Jesse . . . words just can't explain how he made me feel. Imperfect, unholy, not good enough . . .

And now four new men to try to get the better of me? I think NOT.

This was the first and LAST time I would ever let a man – ANY man – push me around, whether it be emotionally OR physically.

I am woman. HEAR ME ROAR, God dammit!

. . . Meow.

'You know, Nathaniel,' I said, my strength suddenly returning, 'what you're doing isn't very Christian. Then again, neither is THIS.'

With that, I grabbed him by his uniform tie and tossed him into the wall face first. He fell into a disorderly pile on the ground, groaning and moaning like a five year old who'd stacked his bike. I clapped my hands together and stood, looking down at him victoriously.

Who's still got it?

'Feisty,' Robin commented from behind. I twirled around to notice that he was no longer joined at the hip with Dani. In fact, he had walked away from Danielle just to commend me for taking down his friend. Dani sent an envious glare in my direction, but with a snap of her bony fingers, Charles and Bart came to her side almost immediately.

'You're volunteering to be next, then?' I asked, sizing him up. I had to admit Robin would be a tougher opponent, considering the height advantage. And, you know he's got more muscle mass. But I had the one thing I'm sure those boys lacked: feminine intuition mixed in with agility. So, HAH!

Shut up.

Mom says I'm cool.

Robin didn't answer verbally. Instead, he grabbed me by the wrist and twisted it so hard, I felt that with one wrong movement, my wrist might snap in half. I bit my tongue to stifle any moans of pain that wanted to escape my mouth.

You know how I used to complain about Paul's iron-grip? And how incredibly strong and restricting it was? Yeah, well, his iron grip was, like, malleable aluminum in comparison to Robin's lethal grasp. And at least with Paul, I knew that my pieces of me would still be in tact. I wasn't so sure with Robin, however, judging by the deadly twinkle in his eyes.

Holy shit. He was going to rip my arm off. And he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

What a BITCH.

I remembered that my fate was not sealed. If I could take Nathan, then I could SO take Robbie. I mean, they were the same height and all. What's a few more pounds of muscle mass, right?

He'd only had me by the wrist. I mean, my legs, and – of course – knees were totally free. Free enough to knee him in the stomach and watch him roll over right next to his other incapacitated friend.

So I did.

Meh.

Piece of piss.

Suze: 2, Misforts: 0

I glanced over my shoulder at Dani, whose fake lightning blue eyes flashed in shock as she looked almost mournfully at the two men at my feet. Not, of course, because they were begging for my attention or whatnot. They were at my feet groaning, BEGGING for mercy . . .

Okay, so I exaggerated. But it did take them a little time to recover. Enough time for me to grab Dani and make a run for it down the stairs and out the attic door.

We almost made it, too. That is, until all six-feet-four of muscly Charles materialized right in front of us, blocking us from getting too far down the hallway. If I hadn't have stopped, I quite possibly could have bowled him over or something with Miss Inflate-O-Boobs, but I don't think I could get my momentum back, unless I ran back to the exit of the attic and ran right into him.

Which would not have been so wise considering Bart, Nathan, and Robin were back GUARDING THE ATTIC DOOR.

And now they were closing in, like those walls in adventure movies with the spikes on them, where the hero has to find a way to either turn the walls off or a way to climb out. Only, there probably weren't any ways to turn these boys off. And just because I'm supposedly some super-shifter, doesn't mean I suddenly possessed these weird Spiderman powers like climbing on walls.

'Oh, Sue . . . '

Dani grabbed my arm so tightly that her long, acrylic nails were digging into my skin. And that's when I figured out that we were screwed. Because super-duper model Danielle Moore didn't even know of a way to get out of this jam.

What happened to Dani's feminine charm? She could have used that to manipulate them to leave us alone. Or it could make them run away screaming or whatever!

But NO, she chooses NOW to stop being so egotistical, vain, and flirtatious.

Great timing, Dani. Perfect.

By then, the guys had already had us cornered, nowhere to run or hide. They were crowded around like hungry vultures on fresh dead prey.

About to be VERY fresh, if you know what I mean.

Charles, taking a menacing step closer, said in a voice I could only assign as murderous, 'You'll pay.'

'Um, check please?' I giggled nervously, my tough act slowly fading. Obviously, Charles didn't have such a great sense of humor. I mean, he didn't even laugh at my joke. Instead, he grabbed my neck with his tendony hand and held me in the air.

'Sue! You're encouraging him!' Dani shrieked from below. I couldn't really respond because, you know, the whole choking issue. I struggled, trying to find a way to get a kick in or something, but he held me out pretty far away from him.

It was, like, Darth Vader's Jedi death grip only Charles wasn't, you know, a Jedi. Nor did he breathe funny, because he actually didn't breathe at all.

Dead people ruin all metaphors, don't they?

And, um, my breathing pattern, which wasn't looking so good. My face was heating up as blood rushed to my face in an attempt to force a breath.

'Oh, my, put her down! I know she must weigh a ton,' Dani yelled, tugging at me. Before I could manage to gasp a retort, the other Misforts pushed her aside, wanting to witness what I could only assume would be my execution.

The boys chanted something over and over, but I couldn't tell what it was because the words kept swimming around my ears but not into them. I was so dizzy from the buzzing in my mind, that the room around me began to turn darker and darker, and it almost seemed to spin from the lack of . . .

Air . . . life. Exactly what the Misforts were deprived of. Something they wanted me to lose, just as they had somehow lost theirs thirty years ago. Life for their lives . . .

I could only think that it wasn't fair that I had to be the one to die. I hadn't done anything to them except beat up Nathan and Robin. Big deal. They were able to recover because they're GHOSTS.

There is no ghost story without bitterness. However these boys had died, they weren't too happy about it, and now they were taking it out on me. Little ol' me.

Adrenaline was pumping through my body, making my head throb. In one last burst of energy, I was able to croak as loudly as possible, 'JESSE!'

Don't ask me why. Must have been a reflex or something.

And, on cue, I could spot a blue shimmer from the corner of my eye. I felt sudden relief, because I could finally breathe again.

'What is it, Susannah?' Jesse asked impatiently, crossing his muscular arms in front of the billowy part of his shirt. 'You've been calling me unceasingly since I left you and Danielle here.'

'I found them, Jesse! I found them! And they totally tried to take me on and–'

'Found who?'

'The ghosts, Jesse,' I replied anxiously, tugging a little on his shirt. 'They're right–'

I looked around for a moment and realized something. They were gone. They just up and left when Jesse materialized. My hands instinctively went to my neck, to feel for Charles' ghostly hands, which had disappeared. That's why I could breathe again.

Those freaking cowards!

Jesse tapped his foot in an impatient, demanding way, waiting for an explanation. Dani was of no help, especially since she was too busy tossing her hair and blinking her false eyelashes at Mr. DeSexy.

'T-they were here a minute ago! One of them had me by the neck –' I shoved back my hair and pointed at my neck for proof, 'right there. They left right when you came, honest to God, Jesse.'

Jesse looked a little skeptical. 'Are you sure, Susannah? You really saw them?'

'God, Jesse,' I sighed, 'I wouldn't lie about something like that. Of course I saw them. Dani did too, didn't you?'

Dani looked longingly at Jesse and replied with a dreamy, 'Mmm, hmm. They were really something. But they are not as strong or as handsome as you, Jesse. You make them look like a bunch of small children.'

Funny. Dani was just admitting that she had flirted with a bunch of kids only a few minutes ago. I never knew Danielle was into pedophilia. You so couldn't tell by her previous boyfriend before Paul, a rich 56-year-old movie director. I had seen it all over the tabloids and their breakup was over-televised on ET.

Entertainment Tonight, I mean.

Not, um, Steven Spielberg's movie, or anything.

As if.

It was really weird how her relationship with Paul hadn't made it in the news. I so would have recognized Paul's dashing face on the cover of Enquirer, and known all about it before. But I hadn't seen any gracing the front cover among J-Lo's fifth marriage coverage or Britney's latest boob-job.

Now that I think of it, I could probably snap a few photos of Paul with Dani and sell them to the paparazzi for a hefty price. And the sad part is, I'd get the money a heck of a lot quicker than I was earning it in the SIA.

Their relationship, as far as I knew, was a pretty big secret. Or maybe no one cared, because Paul's just an intern at a law firm. Hello, what's a half-lawyer in comparison to a big-shot director?

That could be the one pin that would deflate Paul's ego right there. Well, that AND his girlfriend freely flirts with anything with a penis, be it dead or alive, young or old.

Pop.

Haha. I wonder if she'd flirt with Max, the Ackerman's dog?

Oh wait.

He got neutered.

My bad.

Hang on. I just realized something.

JESSE JUST ABOUT LEFT ME TO DIE. I COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED.

WHAT A DICKHEAD.

I was SO going to let rip.

And no . . . ew . . . not fart . . .

My demeanour transformed like lightning. First, I was recovering from having nearly been choked to death, again. (What? I get it all the time. These ghosts are always up to that kind of stuff.) And then, I just totally realized how disgustingly irresponsible Jesse had just been.

'DO YOU REALIZE THAT I WAS ALMOST STRANGLED, AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN CARE?!' I exploded at him, giving him an almighty shove back. He stumbled in great surprize, looking baffled at my wild outburst.

'Susannah, I do not – '

'THEY WERE GOING TO KILL ME. OR IS THAT NOT AN ISSUE ANYMORE?' I yodeled. 'THAT'S RIGHT. YOU STOPPED CARING. MY BAAAAAAD.'

I was totally screaming. It was probably kind of scary for him. And for Dani. Then again, who gave a shit about Dani? And I wasn't being totally serious about this whole "yelling" thing. But it was good to actually yell at him like this, so this reason was welcome. God knows, he needed to get yelled at.

That, and more. But yelling was all I was capable of, and all I would bring myself to do, where Jesse was concerned.

God, I would not get all immature, and exorcise him, or something totally gay like that. I'm not a freak. Well, I am. But that's just below the belt. TOTALLY not playing by the rules. It doesn't work that way. Well, you know. Definitely not with Jesse, no matter what's happened in the past.

'I – I did not realize that – '

'You thought you'd be all smart, and try to shove me and Dani into a nice bonding session, did you? Well, guess what, HECTOR? It kind of backfired. Of course, I think that Dani's opinions are different to mine. I think that she rather enjoyed her little episode of sexual harassment with her assigned jailbait,' I snapped viciously. 'But I TOTALLY do NOT appreciate being locked in a secluded area, when there are FOUR EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD BOYS WHO HAVE NOT HAD SEX FOR THIRTY YEARS, YOU . . . YOU MANIAC.'

Which made me think, very briefly, of Jesse's situation.

One hundred and fifty years.

Jesus . . . the guy is a freak.

Maybe he was planning on being a monk.

BUT . . . SINCE WHEN DID MONKS KISS LIKE THAT?!?!?!

Ugh.

This wasn't cool. No, no, no.

Jesse's eyes were wide. He looked pretty ashamed. GOOD. HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN. 'I – that was foolish trickery on my part,' he said quickly, 'I was not under the impression that these ghosts resided in this section of the house, but in the other – '

'Great mistake,' I said bitchily. 'Really. I mean, not that you really care if I suddenly get offed. Ha.'

Of course he does . . . why was I being such a brat?

Jesse looked really pained. I mean, he knew that he'd just been a total idiot, but I was totally rubbing it in. So THERE. He DESERVED to feel like crap. God knows, I knew the feeling well enough.

Dani was kind of silent through this whole think. She was watching, and observing, looking flirtatious, still, as if her work was never done. I swear to God, if she didn't stop looking at Jesse's top, (where it spilt) I would PERSONALLY dig her GRAVE and TOSS HER IN THERE.

But no pressure.

Now, I was totally for storming out of there, and all. But you know, there was now the issue that, if I went anywhere, totally alone, I would probably be dead before you could say, 'Dani's a skank.' Which was now, really REALLY annoying.

Seriously. That rule that Father Dom came up with? I couldn't ignore it now! I mean, I could, but that would have been pretty darn stupid. Honestly. These ghosts were MEAN. And kind of horny, too. Which was even grosser.

God, if they wanted it so bad, why couldn't they have just all turned homosexual? Would have solved a lot of their problems. But OH NO. They had to wait thirty years to build up this urge, waiting for women to enter their domain, before they suddenly realized, that, oh yeah, they hadn't been laid in a while.

Well, a word of the wise to them. Just a general thing, if you want to nail a girl, you do NOT start off with homicide attempts.

Freaks.

But anyway. With a furious glare at Jesse, who was looking more and more guilty by the second, now that he knew he'd almost left me to die at the hands of four long dead brats, I crossed my arms huffily. 'Can we leave now?'

Dani raised her pencil-thin eyebrows. 'You can go,' she said shortly.

'Um, I'd much prefer to live, thanks,' I said snootily. 'Jesse? Would it pain you deeply to escort me downstairs? Because, from what I saw, Dani can handle herself. She has this total defence mechanism. Her weapon of choice, being, of course, her lips.'

Dani gave a quick, alarming cackle. 'Ha, ha, ha, very funny, Sue,' she brushed me off, before sidling up to Jesse, with the steady click of her heals. Jesus . . . she was almost as tall as HIM. 'Come on, let's go.'

She tugged him towards the descending stairs. Jesse was looking at me with silent apology. 'Come, Susannah.'

I went, of course. But I still shot him livid glares. Honestly, he thought he'd been so clever, secluding Dani and I so we'd be forced to make friends.

Yeah.

That works if you DON'T lock us in an area with murderous ghosts, you know?

Just for the reference.

As soon as we were out of that damned attic, I began to appreciate what ash-less air was like. Mind you, the hallway WAS dusty. But at least it didn't still smell like smoke. Dani was still strutting next to Jesse, owning the world, and Jesse was walking with a lingering trait, as if he was half waiting for me to catch up, and half leading the way.

I didn't catch up. I stayed behind. If Jesse wanted to play walkies with Dani, I didn't care. God, I hope he SUFFERED.

It was infuriating. Him and Dani both looked so glamorous. Dani, in her sparkly silver halter top, and Jesse, in his cowboy made-for-Wild-Western-TV shirt were like, these Greek god and goddess. It was SO annoying. Dani had this walk that only came from modeling. Seriously. Halle Berry walks like that too. Her butt was making me sea-sick.

Left, right, left right . . .

Ugh.

And Jesse, well, he was always gorgeous. We all knew it. With looks that could break hearts, he had the confidence that a gentleman of the 1850s would have. He stood tall, he had respect for women, he smiled, he was polite, and he knew how to charm.

Oh yeah. Then there was me.

Third wheel.

Lame, Adidas clad me.

Well, um, how about I go drown myself, so you two can have some, um, privacy?

Oh, wait.

I already did that.

But oh darn, Dani, your boyfriend went and brought me back to life.

Isn't he such a silly thing?

. . . Makes you wonder if Paul even told Dani about all of that. I mean, seriously. I had a feeling that Paul knew his girlfriend was this complete flirt. He was probably used to that. But how would DANI feel if she knew that Paul had saved my life? I mean, it's not exactly FLIRTING, but still, it was doing something NICE to someone she HATED.

I mean, knowing Dani, she would have probably let me sink to the bottom of Lake Fortunaschwein.

If that was what it was even called.

Ugh.

I didn't get it. I really didn't.

When we got back down to civilization, aka, CeeCee and Adam, who were both in the kitchen, casually kissing, I slumped into a chair while Dani probably went off to find Paul or something, and Jesse dematerialized with a curt nod.

'Hey,' I said to the pashing pair. Seriously, they were going way at it. CeeCee totally had her arms wrapped around his neck, while Adam had his fingers knit in CeeCee's fine white hair.

CeeCee murmured, giggled, and slid her hand from Adam's neck, then said, 'Adam . . . stop it now – ah!'

. . . Ugh. He'd gone for the neck. He knew his stuff, obviously.

I raised my eyebrows. 'Would you two stop sucking face for a second?' I said with bored humour.

CeeCee wrenched away from Adam, giggling again. It was kind of weird. CeeCee giggling, I mean. She didn't used to giggle. Laugh, yes. Her laugh was all horse-like, and everything. It was my comfort zone. But her giggling, that was new territory for me.

But I was happy that Adam was obviously giggle-worthy to her. Really happy.

'Now, what was so important that you had to pull me away from my CeeCee's sugar lips?' Adam demanded.

'Whoa . . . corny,' I remarked.

'Shut up,' he blushed.

Adam embarrassed? That was a new development, coming from the guy who openly belches at the dinner table.

I guess things change . . . people change.

'Hmm?' CeeCee asked, as Adam grinned at her, smoothing her pure white hair affectionately.

I savoured the look of raw love in his eyes for a fleeting moment, before announcing, 'I think we found our ghosts.'

CeeCee's violets widened. 'Oooh! Really? What are they like? Are they nice? Were they – '

'They're dangerous,' I revealed. 'I almost got strangled to death, thanks to Jesse.'

'Jesse strangled you?' Adam asked in stupification.

'No, the ghost,' I said.

'Jesse's not a ghost anymore?'

'Of course he is. I meant, the other one.'

'What other one?' CeeCee asked.

'The one haunting this school,' I said.

'What's Jesse have to do with it?'

'JESSE'S WORKING FOR THEM, ISN'T HE!!!' cried Adam, jerking away from CeeCee and looking accusatory. 'I KNEW IT! He may not be a dirty card player, but he's the dirty culprit, idn't he?'

'Um,' I said, 'No.'

'Oh. Just a guess.'

'He did kind of hold me and Dani prisoner in the attic area, in an effort to make us befriend one another,' I said in disgust, 'And these charming ghosts accosted us. It's those four ghosts we just read about this morning, Cee. The ones who died in the fire.'

CeeCee's face lit up. 'Oooh!' she said with glee.

'Um, that's not a good thing,' I mentioned. 'They're pretty pissed off. Burning to death is not the most pleasant way to die. As they seemed to express today when they attempted to cut off my airways.'

'Poor Suze,' Adam shook his head solemnly. 'Everyone's out to murder you.'

'But I thought they committed suicide,' CeeCee said, cocking her head to the side while ignoring Adam's comment

'Maybe,' I replied, 'but I highly doubt it.'

'You should get a license to kill or something, like James Bond only, you know, without the Golden Gun,' Adam suggested.

'They're already dead,' I said.

'Oh yeah.'

This conversation wasn't going anywhere. 'Okay, look. CeeCee, I need you to do some more investigation, okay? I found out the first names of our Misfortunates – '

'Huh?' Adam looked confused.

I reddened. 'Er . . . that's what the newspaper called them.' Adam nodded slowly. 'Anyway,' I continued, 'Their names were Robin, Nathaniel, Charles, and Bart.'

'No Homer?' Adam said mournfully. I gave him a sarcastic look.

'But yeah. Bart is a year younger than the other three, I think. And Charles is a black guy. So yeah, if there are any records of the students, just remember those things. Can I leave you with that?' I asked quickly, putting my hands on my hips.

'Sure,' Cee said.

'Can we go back to kissing now?' Adam demanded, sending CeeCee a pleading pouty-lips-look.

I grinned. Typical. 'Whatever. Knock yourselves out. Just remember all of those talks they gave us about safe sex, okay Cee?' I snickered, and CeeCee gave me a beautiful smile, before looking at Adam with starry eyes, and began making-out with him again.

A wonderful sight, at the same time as kind of disgusting. No one wants to see their best friends get full-frontal with each other. Albeit, I'd rather see them get hot-and-heavy than Paul and Dani. Or Dani with Jesse and the Misfortunates. Hell, I'd rather see Spike, the cat, and Max, the dog, get it on than Dani and Paul.

Um . . . ew.

CeeCee's albinism was very stark, against Adam's blotchy complexion. Her pinky white skin and hair showed up even more, with her fuchsia top and black capris. Seriously. You would not want to lose a naked CeeCee Webb in a snowstorm. You'd never see her again.

Whoa . . . random, much? As I wandered up the stairs, I couldn't help but wonder just how Jack managed to stay somewhat innocent through this whole thing. I mean, when he's not being dropped down dumbwaiters, he's forced to look at couples constantly going at it, practically in front of him. He barely seemed aware of it. But still, this was probably not the place for a young impressionable teenager. Who knows what kind of ideas he'd get in this sort of adult-party atmosphere?

I figured maybe Jack – and, admittedly, myself – could just break away from it all and go do something good and wholesome. Hey, I was bored. And besides, it was a beautiful day outside . . . better than staying inside and possibly getting attacked by the Misfortunates again.

Common sense, folks. Please.

Jack was, like, my only friend in the house. And that was only when Paul wasn't around. I'd totally make sure Paul wasn't around when I asked Jack to go with me. I didn't care where. Just out and away. We could go hot-air-ballooning for all I cared.

Somewhere over the rainbow . . .

I breezed by the rooms in the hallway on the first floor, doing a quick one-second scan for any signs of little Jack. Something caught my eyes in one of the rooms mid-scan, so I back-tracked and noticed that it was only Paul standing in front of the mirror.

Paul.

Without a shirt on.

Yes.

Shirt-less.

Paul had no shirt on.

His chest was NAKED.

And yeah. What was he doing?

Lifting weights.

Yes.

I AM NOT KIDDING.

Paul didn't know I was there at first, but before I could duck out and pretend I never saw him, he caught my reflection in the mirror. He turned over his shoulder and threw me a grin of acknowledgement and went back to lifting weights facing the mirror.

'Um,' I said lamely, feeling my face heat up a bit.

Um?

UM?!?!?!

I noticed that my face in the reflection of the mirror appeared to be a little red, like I had just gotten a sunburn or something. I hoped that Paul would get that impression. But judging by the satisfied smirk on his face as he continued to watch himself lift weights, he didn't seem to pick that up.

Maybe he should legally change his name to Narcissus or something.

But I seriously don't think you understand how bad this was.

HE WASN'T WEAKING A SHIRT!

ER, HELLO?!

'Hi,' Paul said, never taking his eyes off his reflection in front of him. 'What brings you here? Any new developments?'

NEW DEVELOPMENTS???

I should have told Paul about the Misforts. Ugh. Misfortunates is too long a word. They are OFFICIALLY the Misforts. So there. But yeah, I mean, he had a right to know and everything considering he WAS my co-worker and all. But a certain pride fenced me in, and I could just not allow myself to gush about my close encounter.

AND HE DIDN'T NEED TO HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO BE PROUD ABOUT. I THINK HE WAS DEMONSTRATING A VERY GOOD REASON OF WHY HE WAS SO COCKY.

Not like . . . ACTUAL cocky.

Um . . .

YOU KNOW!!!

So, basically, the ghosts were the last things on my mind then. Paul's weight lifting was a little distracting, after all.

Okay . . . very.

Sue me.

Or, um, Paul for indecent exposure.

Ugh.

'Nothing that you'd abs – olutely need to know,' I squeaked, wishing that the creaky floorboards under my feet would eat me up or something. 'I just, um, wanted to find Jack.'

Paul grinned at himself in the mirror. 'Next room over. But you won't find him there. He might be out with the Lone Ranger.'

'Lone Ranger, eh? That's a new one.'

Okay, this was way awkward. I mean, sure I've seen Paul without a shirt. Hell, previous night. But it was kind of dark outside then, so his rippled muscles were barely visible. Moonlight, and all. And plus, it was like, only for a few seconds before I nearly drowned. But now, they were in clear daylight, in all of their glistening glory.

This was bad.

BAD, BAD, BAD.

Paul went to the corner of the room and bent down to put the weights down next to the bed in the corner, and while glancing at me again, he moved back to his spot in the mirror and flexed.

I'm so serious.

FLEXED.

Mr MY-MUSCLES-ARE-SO-PERFECT-YOU-COULD-POKE-THEM-AND-THEY-WOULDN'T-WOBBLE, FLEXED HIS MUSCLES.

For the LOVE of GOD!

When his gaze fell back on me, in the mirror, he sighed and turned around, saying slowly, 'That means, Suze, that Jack isn't here right now.'

'Er, I knew that,' I said quickly, taking the hint.

I tried to move away from the doorway that I had now been leaning on, but I wouldn't budge for some reason.

Paul threw me another look; something unknown combined with a hint of annoyance, and rummaged through his dresser for a shirt. He plucked a gray wife-beater shirt that went pretty well with his black workout pants, and pulled it on over his head.

Gulp.

I don't know why I stood there for so long, not doing anything. It was one of the single most embarrassing moments of my life. Seriously. It was like, "Stop looking at my abs," to, "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!!"

I mean, I could have run away screaming or something. Or perhaps left the room like a decent, normal human being who is not a freak that likes to stare at people's abdominal muscles.

But you should have seen them. He looked like one of those guys in magazine centerfolds for Cosmo or something that wear nothing but those loose-fitting pants that hang ever so loosely along their waist, that you notice that if those pants were only a little lower then . . .

WHAT AM I THINKING?!

Was I intentionally violating Paul IN MY MIND? That would be so . . . so perverse and so WRONG. And even though he had put on a shirt, I couldn't help but continue to visualize him without it. Like I WANTED it off or something. Only I didn't. I SO did not.

SHUT UP!!

I DID NOT, OKAY?!?!

Okay, fine. My thoughts of Paul right then were anything but chaste. In fact, I'm so embarrassed about thinking them, that I choose not to share them at this current moment. They're too, you know, mortifying. And a little, um, nasty, but like I said, I do NOT wish to go into that.

I muttered a hasty apology and started out the door, until Paul stopped me by offering, 'You can stay if you want. I'm no Jack, but I'm the closest thing, genetically speaking.' He gave me a grin, to which my face reacted with a violent blush.

'But morally speaking, you're the furthest thing. Bye,' I mumbled, and went to waddle out, penguin style.

I was almost out too, until Paul stopped me yet again.

'Aw, come on. Stick around for awhile. No harm done.'

I sniffed indignantly. 'Yeah. Right.'

'Just look at me, Suze,' Paul said as he lifted up his arms and flexed his large biceps, 'and tell me how you could pass up an offer such as this?'

DON'T PASS IT UP. OOOOH. YUM. COME TO MOMMA!!!

'Easily,' I retorted. YOU LIAR!!! 'See ya.'

WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, SUZE?!

So gorgeous . . . so perfect looking . . .

And yet he was so full of himself.

That was what turned Paul from sizzling pot of sexy-stew to . . . you know . . . um, not so much. Boy, I'm lame.

No. I think that lame is a gross understatement for what I am.

I am pathetic.

I am SCUM.

And . . . Paul is totally hot.

YES. Okay?! I've SAID IT. It's WRITTEN. It's in PRINT. Seriously. If Paul was on a contract, he'd be the DAMN FINE PRINT.

. . . Whoa . . .

I swear to God. I am SO under the influence of a) vodka b) pot c) heavy duty abdominal muscles as I'm saying all of this.

IT'S NOT MY FAULT, I TELL YOU!!!

You know on those HALLMARK CARDS, where they have those REALLY HOT GUYS ON THE FRONT, with the ABS, and the BICEPS, and it has a phrase like, "You wanna screw?" and then you OPEN UP THE CARD and it had a PICTURE of a SCREW?! One of those SILVER THINGIES???

Well.

PAUL IS THAT GUY ON THE COVER.

Why is life so GROSSLY UNFAIR?!

Seriously.

All I could do was stare at him, and what I lacked in dignity, I made up in saliva.

Okay . . . kidding.

But you KNOW what I mean.

WHY COULDN'T JESSE BE LIFTING WEIGHTS?

Wait. No.

No, bad, bad Suze.

BAD.

This was really, REALLY NOT GOOD.

Well, you know, the sight WAS good, but –

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Panicking, I tried to quickly duck out of the room again, when he laughed.

HE LAUGHED AT ME.

I was SO ASHAMED.

So yeah, I spun back into the room, and demanded, 'What are you laughing at?!'

To which he only SHOOK HIS HEAD.

That's right.

HE DIDN'T EVEN EXALT ME WITH AN ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION.

Not that I needed one, I already knew that he was laughing at my retarded-ness.

Ugh.

As soon as I remembered how to breathe, I let out a frustrated sigh. 'Well, do you know when Jack will be back?'

Paul raised his eyebrows. 'How would I know? De Silva came by, like, five minutes ago. So he's probably got Jack polishing his spurs or something,' he said in disgust. I took a moment to observe how much Paul TRULY hated Jesse. It was a silent loathing, one which could no longer be proven by flying fists. They were on the same side now, and they couldn't beat each other to bloody pulps anymore.

All they could do, basically, was glare, and badmouth each other.

Which can be kind of powerful, if you know how to do it properly.

But whatever.

'Oh,' I said. 'Um, yeah.'

Paul shrugged. 'Stay.'

I stared at him. 'Um . . . nah, I'm, um, right. And anyway, this room is starting to stink of B. O.'

That was a total lie. He had the window open, and I could barely smell a thing, only the very weak odour of perspiration.

And anyway, did I ever mention that Paul's sweat really doesn't smell that bad?

It really doesn't.

Paul gave me a cynical look. But whatever, I backed out of the room again, and started, AGAIN, down the hallway.

'Oh, right. Just run off on the guy who saved your life last night,' he yelled after me.

I paused, and groaned silently. I knew that was coming, sooner or later. I'd been totally hoping that it would be later, you know? As in, when he was like, eighty-five years old, crippled, and delirious?

No. He'd chosen THE FOLLOWING DAY for me to grovel.

Slowly, I slumped back into the room in which he was still obviously doing his workout. Now, he seemed to be just stretching.

With his shirt on.

There is a God.

'Look,' I said, 'I already told you that I was grateful. That should be enough, considering that I – '

But I noticed that he was grinning. I wasn't going to get off the hook that easily.

'Well,' I muttered awkwardly, 'Um . . . what do you want?'

What kind of a question was THAT?

I SWEAR, IF HE TOLD ME TO . . . MAKE IT UP TO HIM IN . . . CERTAIN WAYS, THEN HE WAS TOTALLY GOING TO GET HIS ASS KICKED.

He could get Dani the Dominatrix any day, the loser.

So when he said what he said next, I FREAKED.

'Well, I've never actually seen you in action, Suze.'

. . . WHAT?!?!

I SHOULD HOPE NOT!!!

My eyes bulged.

'What?!' I demanded, my voice a couple million octaves higher.

He laughed deeply. 'Ha, no. I meant, you always claim to have such superb fighting skills. And I don't believe you.'

I stared at him in bewilderment.

'So?' I asked.

He shrugged, as he raised his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers and stretching. He had long arms. Like an ape. Only, you know, he didn't look disproportionate or anything. 'Come on, Suze,' he smirked. 'You and me, one on one. Show me what you can do.'

That could sound so wrong . . .

I gave a nervous laugh. 'Um . . . '

'You owe me,' he reasoned.

I just blinked, like a complete dumbass. 'You want . . . to fight me?'

With arched eyebrows, he nodded. 'Yes. And I want to win.'

Oh.

Another competition.

I swallowed. WHAT? You'd SO be swallowing too, if you were watching this guy FLEX HIS MUSCLES, okay? It was REALLY daunting. I was totally quivering in my tennis shoes. Okay, not so much, but I was pretty slack jawed.

Paul wanted to beat me up.

Oh, great.

But . . . I couldn't say no. Then he'd know that I was scared.

He could NOT know.

So, very reluctantly, I stepped a little further into the room, and stood there like a freak, as he seemed to find it necessary to grab a towel, and slowly wipe his neck.

Hey? Where the hell did he get WEIGHTS FROM, anyway?! Don't tell me he brought them in his car. I simply won't believe you. No one brings a set of WEIGHTS on their job. It's just . . . NOT DONE, okay?

Maybe he bought them from a second-hand shop, or something?

. . . IT COULD HAPPEN.

Well. Anyway. Subsequent to my weird train of thought, I realized that it would probably be sensible to shed some of my own restraining clothes. So I ditched the little royal blue Adidas jacket that I had on, so I was left in a sleeveless red sports top and black sports tights.

All Adidas.

Um . . . yeah.

I still didn't understand what the hell I was doing. FIGHT PAUL? What the HELL did that entail? What? Battle to the death? Were there even going to be rules? Was it like, sumo-wrestling style?

WHAT?

I was giving Paul a very freaked out look, as he came to stand opposite me. About, you know, two meters away.

'You aren't going to kill me, are you?' I asked dumbly, 'Because, my life has already been threatened way too much for my own good.'

He sniggered. 'No, Simon. I'm not going to kill you. But you can't blame me if my hand just . . . slips.'

My eyes widened, and he laughed again.

WOULD HE JUST LIKE, STOP WITH THE LAUGHS ALREADY?!

JESUS CHRIST.

'Uh huh,' I said uncertainly. 'So . . . uh . . . what are you expecting?'

'To win,' he boasted.

'Um, I meant, you know . . . like, how are you fighting?' I corrected.

Paul ran his hand very slowly through his hair, his narrowed eyes lingering on me with mirth. He knew that he had me. How he had me, I wasn't sure. But he had me good.

And it was DAMNED CREEPY.

'Dirty,' Paul teased, in a sort of dark way.

Holy shit. HOLY shit. SHIT THAT IS HOLY.

'Fine,' I gulped, giving my hair a casual flip despite my nerves, 'just, um, don't bite my ear off like Tyson did, okay?'

Paul flashed me a toothy grin, and I noticed that Paul's teeth, besides being blindingly white, were also kind of sharp looking. Not like a vampire or anything, but just in general. Like, if he really did try to bite me, it'd probably draw blood. A lot of it.

'Ladies first,' he said as he spread his arms out. The gleam in his eye almost seemed to say, "I dare you to punch me". Boy, did I dare. So I tried to sock him one, but he caught my wrist.

'Wait. We forgot about the bed.'

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

'W-what?!'

'The bed. We have to move the bed, for more room.'

'Oh.'

Together, we picked up the bed and moved it against the wall, where it was out of our way. There was a clear space for us in the middle of the room now, and with the weights surrounding the center, it gave off that boxing-ring vibe. I joined Paul back at the center of the room, where I noticed the glow of the light above our heads seemed a bit brighter now that the bed was gone. In fact, it was so much brighter, I could almost feel the heat pour down from it and on top of my head causing me to break out in a light sweat.

Or at least I hope that was the reason.

Paul began to circle me as a vulture would circle its prey; waiting to sweep in and take whatever was left of me after he was done with me.

'How shall we fight this?' Paul asked, his steps becoming slower and slower.

I rolled my eyes at him. Cheap intimidation tactics don't work on me. 'I asked you the same thing a few minutes ago, remember?' I replied, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

'You want rules? Or does anything go in this battle?'

I don't know whether it was the sudden close proximity of Paul's lips to my ear or if it was just the way he asked the question, but something sent a chilling shiver down my spine.

'Rule number one:' I swallowed, trying to ignore Paul's breath on my ear, 'no crazy shifter powers will be employed. Period.'

'What's rule number two?' Paul asked in a hoarse type of whisper. There was something in his voice that seemed animalistic. Like, he wanted blood and he wanted it NOW.

And this, coming from the guy that saved my life the previous night. Talk about a flip-flop.

Oh wait. That's for politicians, not for lawyers.

Same difference. They're both dirty.

Well, two can play at that game. So THERE.

'Rule number two . . . think fast!'

With that, I swirled around and stomped on Paul's toe as hard as I could.

TAKE THAT, FIEND!

'Ow!' he snapped in surprise.

He stumbled back a good two feet away, but quickly recovered. After all, what are a few toes to Paul Slater? Besides, you know, minor body parts?

I thought for sure I heard a crunch or something, but Paul just shook his foot as if to shake off any pain that might have been there. I decided that since he feet might not be the way to bring him down (what was I thinking?), I directed a kick at his stomach.

I swear, this guy was pretty swift. I mean, I had always been quick on my feet because of the height thing. I'm just a small girl, you know? But Paul, with his tall height and massive muscles, SHOULD have been considerably slower than me, right?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

Paul may not have been as agile as I on foot, but he sure was quick in his mind. It was almost as if he had seen my kick coming, and that's how he was able to grab my ankle and flop me on the ground.

On my back.

The thrill, the joy.

Not.

'I can't wait to see you lose,' he grinned down at me. Like a predator, himself.

I glared up at him with narrowed eyes. 'I'm not going to. When you're on YOUR back, and I'm standing over you after I've won, don't forget to tell me how beautiful the bottom of my chin is, right?' I shot at him, and he laughed disdainfully. I was going to say, how beautiful my nostril hairs are, but that was just gross.

'The only way that'll happen,' he leant down, so his face was hovering a foot above mine, 'Is if I snap your neck first.'

Well, THAT made me gulp.

My eyes widened in fleeting alarm at his homicidal threat, before I got kind of peeved.

'I'll show you how it's done,' I said acidly to him, as his foot came over my left arm, resting on my shoulder gently.

He grinned madly. 'This may be more than I bargained for,' he said. 'Then again, we've already moved the bed.'

. . . . EWW.

In outrage – and blushing like hell – I TOTALLY elbowed his leg off my shoulder, and scrambled up, before I aimed a heavy punch at his shoulder. He grunted, then grinned, and seized my OTHER arm, jammed it behind my back, causing me to go, 'SHIT!'

He laughed in my ear.

Well, that's nice.

It was even nicer when I used my weight, and rammed him back across the room, into the wall. I then elbowed him in the stomach.

. . . It hurt my elbow.

Ow.

I spun around to face him, and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, dragging him sideways so he fell over. He fell gracelessly onto the wooden paneled ground, and then thought it absolutely necessary to kick MY feet out from beneath me, so again, I was on my back.

What a bitch.

Then, he climbed over me, his arms either side of me. He was panting ever so slightly, as he grinned down at me.

'You're pretty quick, Simon,' he praised. 'But you're not going to win this.'

'Eat the shit you talk,' I snarled, before . . . um . . .

Headbutting him.

STOP LAUGHING. IT FRIGGING HURT.

I know that it was GAY, but . . . it seemed COOL.

Well, it WASN'T.

It's about as cool as a fat guy doing a bellyflop.

You just DON'T.

I groaned. 'That wasn't too clever.'

'Yeah,' he agreed.

I then took advantage of his cynicism for me, by shoving him on HIS back, and then . . .

Sitting on his stomach.

Wow. He sure knows who's boss now, Suze.

Really.

I grabbed his huge, muscly arms, and held them down forcefully, as my hair draped either side of my face. It almost reached his mouth, which was kind of gross. I mean . . . what? Entrée, Hair de la Susannah? Eww. How . . . um, furry.

I SO should have put it up.

But whatever.

'Hi,' I said aggressively.

He smirked from beneath me. 'Hi,' he replied, before rolling us over, so he was above me, pushing me flat against the floor. I went to get up, but he slammed me back down.

'This seems familiar,' he mused.

'What? With you and Dani every five seconds?' I asked through gritted teeth. 'I mean . . .' I waited for one of his hands to accidentally relax a bit . . . 'Even in PUBLIC.' I rapidly twisted my arm from his grip, before aiming a hefty punch at his jaw.

'Ooof!' he grumbled, 'Jesus!' His hand shot to the point of contact, and he nursed it, giving me a glare.

'PMS?' he asked.

'You'd know, Paul Michael Slater,' I retorted, causing him to, SHOCK HORROR, blush.

HA! I MOCK THEE, LORD OF THE PRE-MENSTRUAL STRESS.

I laughed, and wriggled totally away from him, and standing up rapidly, in preparation of another attack. He removed his hand from his jaw, in a quick movement, and grinned up at me again.

'Hey Suze?' he asked, still on the ground.

'What?'

'Nice chin.'

'Thanks,' I gave him a weird look. 'Haven't seen yours. You seem to prefer to look AT me. Am I that gorgeous?'

Whoa . . . getting a little overconfident, there Suze?

I tell you . . . this is the stuff I love.

The rush.

The pure adrenaline I feel, when I'm fighting.

It's the surge of power, of energy that impels me to keep on going, until I win.

And I WOULD win.

Yeah. I'm the Little Engine That Could.

. . . Kill me.

Paul rose to his feet, giving me a dark grin. 'Effective communication requires looking the recipient in the eye. If I were to look, I'd completely miss your eye. You 're short, if you haven't noticed. So I'll just settle for looking down on you.'

'Bully,' I pouted.

Then proceeded to slug him in the stomach.

Paul wheezed, but maintained his composure.

Stupid lawyer.

At least he didn't, like, insist on fighting in business suits. Or that I'd have to sign a contract with lots of fine print if I intended to fight him. That way, if I damaged like, his toenail, or something, he could sue my ass for three point five million US or something.

Of course, that was when he lunged at me, and wrapped his hands around my NECK.

Did he know how frigging OFTEN this HAPPENED TO ME?!

And yeah, this TOTALLY wasn't in a passionate way, either. Which I was thankful. But yeah, this was totally in the sense of his intent to strangle me. Well, he wasn't.

Yet.

I laughed. Yeah, I mean, come on. Paul? Nah. 'You're not serious,' I snorted skeptically. Jeez. What a loser. I mean, this was not exactly a fight to the death, or anything.

Only, what he said next kind of made me wonder.

'One life in the hands of Paul Slater. He can let it free, or cut it off.' For emphasis, he kind of dug his thumbs a little deeper into my throat, causing my eyes to widen a little. He wasn't choking me. He was just trying to scare me.

. . . Well, I hoped that was what his plan was.

It was very hard to swallow, because he was kind of blocking off that bit of my oesophagus that enables me to do so. YA KNOW?

Then, I mimicked his hand positions. I shoved my own around HIS neck.

'Ditto what you just said,' I muttered lamely.

'Or,' his eyes glinted maliciously, 'he can do this . . . ' With that, he spun me around, and shoved me face first into the nearest wall. With a muffled groan, I said, ' . . . Or that.'

Ow.

Breathing hard, I tried moving me shoulders, but Paul leant against me, using all of his weight to keep me stationary. Screwing up my face, I then kicked back as hard as I could. One of the times, I was SURE that I struck him hard in the nuts, because he totally let out this pig-squeal, which sounded REALLY weird. Well . . . it was kind of a deep, manly pig-squeal.

But still.

Paul took the kicks hard, but not hard enough. He was still playing the game, and winning. He saved his dignity by laughing off the fact that I'd almost pulped his manhood, and then kneed me in the side.

I sucked in air very sharply, and then pushed RIGHT away from the wall, so we fell back about a meter. Then I spun around, and punched him as HARD as I could in the chest.

My wrist ached.

'What is your lack-of-problem?!' I demanded in outrage.

He was finding this WHOLE THING hilarious. One big joke. A piece of cake. An easy victory. 'I thought you were going to show me how it was done,' he said in exaggerated disappointment. 'This all you got for me?'

Something strange, again, passed through me body, which was too ephemeral to identify. I tried to sock him in the face, but he totally caught my wrist in mid-punch, in that stupid iron-grip he had. I lifted my gaze to Paul's furiously, and suddenly, a horrible, gut-wrenching chill swamped me.

I didn't exactly know what to do, so I decided to go for a really hard kick. Only . . . um . . . Paul kind of caught my ANKLE too.

Now picture that for a second, and you'll understand how AWKWARD I was feeling about then, right?

Since we were still only a little away from the wall next to the door, Paul thrust me back and crushed me there against it, still kind of holding my ankle and my wrist.

I moaned at the force of impact.

My wrist was throbbing painfully because he was SO cutting off my circulation, the stupid weirdo. For someone who's able to prove someone guilty for, you know, stealing a wheelbarrow from a hardware store, or something, he sure wasn't being that law-abiding here, you know, with his homicidal tendencies. I mean, I entered this fight with NO intention to kill. But Paul . . . he was really scaring me.

It must have showed on my face, because a grin so smug erupted across his lips, as they curved up into a dangerous, rugged smirk that reeked of power, and confidence.

More chills drenched me. I suddenly became horrible aware that Paul WAS a man. I mean . . . you know, I kind of like, KNEW that. I mean, absence of breasts and everything, and presence of that perfect six pack . . . but yeah, I just suddenly – you know, KNEW that this was a man that I did NOT trust, and here he was, closer to me than most other men have been, with me in a very dangerous position. It was worse than daunting. It was menacing.

I'd never really thought of Paul as that. But all of a sudden, the fact that he was a very powerful man, sent me into chills that were colder than a winter blizzard.

Because, seriously. I didn't trust him.

Paul was leaning right against me, and I was finding it harder to breathe, because, yeah, okay, he was leaning on my CHEST. While he may not have been conscious of this, he totally was. Which I found way more uncomfortable than the fact that he was STILL gripping my ankle.

That was when the hand in question, slid up my leg, past my knee, to my thigh.

I am not even joking.

I almost frigging shat my sports pants.

Paul was still smirking at me, with an invisible emanating from him like heat. I knew, because my face was getting REALLY hot. His eyes were like, TOTALLY smug, still. Like he'd ALREADY won this. 'You said you could take me out. Now I'm asking where. Obviously, you have underestimated me.'

I didn't say anything.

No, correction: I COULDN'T say anything. What was there to say to THAT? Because, well, maybe I HAD.

Just maybe?

'Or have you overestimated yourself again?' he went on slyly, leaning his face ever closer to mine. HEY, according to the song, he was supposed to lean on me when he was NOT stro-o-o-ong. This was NOT COOL. 'At this rate, who knows what kind of trouble you could get yourself in,' he said hauntingly.

I spared a very random thought to Cole, but ignored it stubbornly.

'Shut up,' I replied acidly.

He gloated down at me, looking all hot and evil and stuff, the bastard, 'Well, well. Now your in a jam. How are you going to get out of it this time? Talking?'

Well, there goes my, "LOOK! A BIRD!" strategy.

I strained my arms against him, but he was totally not letting me go. This was a lesson he was not going to let me out of. He wanted me to learn.

I totally did not want to.

Then, he just went on ahead and said, 'I'm afraid it won't do you any good. Your mouth is what got you here in the first place.'

'WHAT THE HELL?!' I demanded in outraged affront. Did he think I like, went around kissing people or something?! 'What's THAT supposed to mean?!'

Paul chuckled darkly. 'You know, the lying, saying things you never meant, the insults . . . the kisses – '

I struggled wildly, and shouted, 'Shut the hell up!'

He pinned my wrist that he had in his hand, against the wall, and next to my head, and the hand he had on my thigh slid up dangerously, in carefully calculated movements. He was trying to provoke me into doing something. Knowing me, it would be something really embarrassing.

Nah, seriously. Paul was like, just waiting for me to show a demonstration of escapology or something. Which was really stupid. Because I wasn't an escapologist. Robbie Williams has an album called Escapology. That's about all I knew on the topic.

I didn't know what the hell he was doing, though. I tried placing it logically in my mind, but I could find no explanation for why he thought it compulsory to be touching me like that. This was a fight. Not a battle of sensuality.

But again with the Paulie Shivers. You know . . . how it felt bad, but in such a good way?

Yeah.

So he DID have a method to his madness. Because I couldn't move a millimeter, including my ability to breathe.

He moved his lips to beside my ear, and whispered into my hair, 'I think it's safe to say that I won.'

OI!

'I'm NOT giving up to you!' I said shrilly, and began flipping flippantly in order to obtain liberty, but he was like, being a TOTAL butt head. Honestly. 'I this was a fight to the death, as YOU seem to be treating it, I would be totally meaner. Like, war paint and everything.'

Yet, still, he looked totally contemptuous. Like, he was George Bush at election time, and TOTALLY thought that he was going to be president again. He TOTALLY thought that he was going to win this. Well, I was going to SHOW HIM.

WAR PAINT, OR NO WAR PAINT.

With a sudden burst of energy – its origin being my infuriation – I found it finally possible to heave him AWAY from me. I then aimed a side kick to the side of his head. He was knocked to the left.

Still got it.

. . . Bitch.

'Nothing is safe to say, with me,' I corrected him coldly, my fists balled.

He looked kind of taken aback that I'd gotten him away from me. I mean, that move had been FAST. I'm so totally cool.

Not.

BUT STILL! See? HE was the one who was overestimating himself. HIM.

I couldn't really think of anything clever to say. He was still staring at me, when I displayed even MORE of my superior Susie-skill and gave him another vigorous, lightning kick, causing him to fall flat on his butt, about two meters away.

I backed away from him coolly, so I was near the bed, at the other side of the room.

He was sprawled on the ground. 'Oww,' he groaned painstakingly, wincing. He glared up at me. 'You are SO going down . . . '

And with that, he TOTALLY leapt at me, grabbing me by the knees, so I ended up crashing onto the mattress of the bed, with him landing on the bottom half of my body. Paul crawled over me, not even smiling. But his eyes were on fire. 'Don't you love staring in the eyes of victory?'

I choked on my scarce spit – scarce, because my throat was like, Sahara dry.

That was when he raised his fist, to strike.

At that precise moment, a sensation of INTENSE, utter dread flooded through my body.

I reacted exactly how my first instincts were screaming for me to:

"HIDE!"

I threw my arms over my head protectively, and shrunk right away from him, flat against the mattress, and screamed, 'Don't!' while tensing every single muscle in my body, and preparing every nerve for unbelievable pain.

Then I remembered . . .

Cole Kennedy was a thousand miles away.

I lowered my arms, incredibly slowly, my eyes so, SO wide right then . . .

My God . . . what had Cole done to me?

Paul lowered his fist quickly. 'Suze . . . Suze, you knew I wasn't going to – ' he stared at me strangely, 'I wouldn't have hit y – I . . . I was just being – '

I kind of tried to sit up. He was still sitting over me, so this was easier said than done.

The aftermath of the fear still lingered along my skin, and in my now nauseous stomach. I couldn't look at him. I really couldn't. Not after . . . oh, Jesus . . .

'How hard does he hit you?' Paul asked, sounding, quite plainly, like he was suppressing fury.

FURY.

I swallowed. 'I – I'm sorry, I was – it's just – you know, natural instinct – '

'Makes me think that it happens often,' Paul growled at me. His voice rumbled in my head, like soft thunder.

I stared past him, at the wall opposite. It was the wall adjacent to the wall with the door. The wall was boarded up. Grey colours.

That's all I was seeing.

All I saw when I remembered Cole . . .

Grey.

. . . What was happening to me?

'Suze,' Paul said, as I was still flat on my back. He put his hands on either side of my shoulders, leaning over me so I'd look at him and only him. Reluctantly, I met his severe gaze.

'Sorry,' I babbled quickly, again, 'I mean, it's got nothing to do with Cole. Nothing at all. What a funny thought . . . ha, Cole. I laugh in the face of Cole, ha. He's really just a wuss. Hits like a girl. I'm not scared of him, I'm – '

'Suze,' Paul said again. The way he said my name was like, almost defensive. Like he really WAS angry. Probably with the fact that I was obviously so pathetic and helpless and pitiful and annoying and –

Suddenly, there was a cough.

Paul's head whipped towards the door, and his eyes widened.

I too, turned to look.

Dani was standing there, her arms crossed, her expression totally saying, "Explain. As in, NOW."

Paul had this perfect deer-caught-in-headlights look. Seriously. Dani's top? $76 dollars. My Adidas shoes? $168. Paul's look then?

Priceless.

There are something things money can't buy.

For everything else, there's Paul Slater's bottomless money pit.

I suppose it must have looked slightly compromising, me lying on a bed, looking flushed – from the whole fist thing – and Paul practically straddling me.

'May I ask what's going on here?' Dani drawled. 'I mean, if I'm not interrupting anything, Paul,' she added, with a very unattractive scowl on her face.

Paul wasn't doing all that much in the getting-the-hell-off-of-me department. Ha. One would think that he was enjoying lying on top of me after he'd just pretended to assault me.

'Um,' I said, digging my nail into Paul's ribs discretely so he kind of got a hint – he did, and totally moved off of me – 'Paul and I were just – '

'Fighting,' Paul said professionally, brushing down his grey top. 'Suze reckoned she could beat me.'

'In fighting,' I added, still feeling dazed, and embarrassed about the whole recoiling thing.

'Yeah,' said Paul.

He wandered over to Dani's side, and put his arm around her shoulders. She still had her eyes narrowed at me, though.

'I won,' I shrugged, finally getting vertical again. I too, stood up.

Dani, who looked very suspicious still, glared at me. 'It seemed to me that Paul had the upper hand, there. Why isn't he the winner?'

'Paul suddenly got handicapped,' I explained. 'You came.'

Dani's look turned positively filthy.

I had the sudden, nasty urge to bring up the whole your-girlfriend-cracked-on-to-a-bunch-of-dead-eighteen-year-olds to Paul, but I decided against it.

God knew, now they were joint at the hip again, they'd totally become accomplices in their bid to off me, Le Susannah Grande.

Um. Yeah.

'She's just angry because I almost had her,' Paul assured Dani.

'In fighting,' I said again, my voice now mocking.

'Yeah,' said Paul.

Dani narrowed her freshly lined eyes acerbically. 'I bet you aren't so hard to take, Sue. Unless you crunched me with your bum or something.'

'As opposed to yours fitting through the eye of a needle?' I asked.

'I'll take that as a compliment,' she said smugly.

'It wasn't,' I guaranteed her.

'Whoa,' said Paul, 'Where's the mud when you need it?'

Dani glared at him, but then, with a pained look at me, smiled lovingly at him, and went, 'Oh, you.'

Ouch.

I gave Dani a sarcastic look. One which Dani totally took offense to.

'Paul,' she whined, holding onto his arm more clingingly, 'Paul, she thinks she's better than me, just because she's a shifter! YOU don't think you're better than me, do you?' Her last two words were accompanied with a look that said, "SAY NO OR ELSE."

'Of course not, Dani,' Paul said easily.

'Yeah,' I agreed. 'He doesn't think he's better. He knows it. As do I.'

Dani looked FURIOUS.

Um . . . so?

Paul scowled at me. But I was too busy ducking out of the room, and getting the hell out of there as fast as I could.

I SO would have won.

. . . I WOULD HAVE.

But stupid DANI had to come in.

Stupid Barbie . . . with her stupid boobs, and her stupid –

Oh, sigh.

Then again . . . it's not about who wins, all the time.

It was about who had the power, in the very end.

And that would always be Paul.

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

Okay.

So, yeah.

Interesting chapter, that was.

What do you think of these new ghosts?

And for the reference, WE LOVE MAROON 5. Lolly's favourite song is She Will Be Loved. It's just not Suze's.

Okay.

So yeah.

Love you all.

Lolly and Hayley.