Chapter 2

At promptly 3:00, the bell rings and I shoot out of my seat. I gather my things and wait at the door for Justin, who always takes a long time to pack up.

"Hey," I greet him with a smile as we move out of the flow of traffic. He answers with the same smile and places a sweet kiss on my lips. I admit—I'm a sucker for PDA. Most people think it's gross, whatever, so I try to be respectful to them: This is why I didn't deepen the kiss…too much.

"So," I continue after surfacing. "What are you doing this afternoon?"

"We had a rehearsal planned for five, but I don't know if I can make it. My mom's really sitting on me to work on my gov project. After that last test—she's not too happy."

"Mm," I nod. I think guiltily about my own project for Government. "Explore An Area of Our Government That Makes Our Country Unique." I chose the police department, and am going to do a ride-along with Ty and Sully tomorrow. I figure any time spent with Sully's bound to be a unique enough experience on its own. We arrive at my locker, which I hastily open and cram my calc book inside, pulling out my chem book.

"Anyway," Justin continues as we walk toward the main entrance, "What about you?"

"Not much," I answer. I hold up the chem book, "Studying." We walk down the front steps which I hurried up only hours ago. I reach up to give Justin a hug before we go our separate ways.

"Isn't that—" I hear his voice in my ear, "—your dad?"

I turn around and look where he's indicating. Sure enough, my dad's parked on the corner a little ways away, leaning out the passenger window gesturing for me to get in.

"Come on Kylie!" he yells, "I have to go!"

Slightly tinged with embarrassment, I turn back to Justin. "Call me later, okay?" I call as I walk toward the waiting SUV.

"Hi," I say cheerfully as I get in. I have a feeling I know what this is about, and figure I may as well start off on the right foot. "Why are you picking me up? I was going to take the subway."

"Come on, you know why," he says as I slump in my seat, my hopes of playing dumb flying out the window. "I wanted to talk to you—COME ON, IDIOT!" he interrupts himself, leaning on his horn. "Anyway," he continues, "I got a call today, from Ms. Atawell. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

I think really quickly before answering, "So you want to talk to me about being late for school? It's—" I take an exaggerated look at my watch "—3:10. Aren't you late for work?"

Oddly enough, he's not amused; that I can tell, anyway. It occurs to me that Ms. Atawell didn't think my shower-clogging-the-bookcase-thus-smashing-the-alarm-clock story (or whatever it was I managed to pull out my ass) was that funny either. In light of recent events, I decide, my jokes have taken a hit. What those recent events are, I'm not too sure.

"Kylie." The mere mention of my name dispels any further ponderings on my part. I turn to face him.

"Yes?" I say sweetly.

"Look—" we're interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. "Nieto," he says, answering it. I strain to listen to the caller on the other end.

"I know, I'll be there in ten minutes," he answers after the voice finishes speaking. "Tell him, tell him—right. Okay, see you. Bye."

"Kylie," he says again as we round the corner, "Look, I don't know why you've been late to school. You always leave in the morning with plenty of time to get there. I don't know if it has anything to do with early morning stops—" he gives me a significant look and I know he means Starbucks, "—or anything. So if I get one more call, you'll be driven every morning, by either Holly or me. Also, every afternoon, you're to report to the firehouse after school. Got it?"

I sigh. "I guess."

"Good." He pulls up to the front of our building. "And one more thing," I have one hand on the door handle, "Ty said he and Sully would be waiting in the car tomorrow when you get out of school."

"Excellent," I say brightly, "I can look like I'm being arrested."

"That's the idea," Dad says, shrugging with a smile. At that point I know we're okay. "I have to go. Holly's working a half shift today, so she should be home in a few hours."

"Have a good shift!" I call out as he drives off. He honks twice in response.

I turn around, facing the steps in front of me. I dig my key out as I walk up. After opening the door and a quick elevator ride, I'm standing in front of our door. When I walk in, I toss my bag on the couch and sling my jacket over a chair. Suddenly famished, I decide to see what we have in the way of food.

The refrigerator is thankfully well-stocked, Holly's doing, I'm sure. I know for a fact that before she came along, my dad was your typical bachelor, and all that that implies. After a bit of digging, I settle for some plastic wrap-covered guacamole and carrot sticks. Now, I know what you're about to say. My food tastes are a little bit—different. (Actually, I prefer "eccentric.") What can I say? I pour myself a glass of lemonade and carry my snack to the counter.

When I'm done, I bring my school stuff into my room and flop down on my bed, exhausted. From my horizontal position, I survey my room. It's not as clean as I'd prefer it to be. Grudgingly, I get up, knowing I won't be able to concentrate as long as it's not. I work for a couple of minutes before the ringing phone breaks me from my meditation. Yup—cleaning is like meditating for me.

"City morgue," I answer on the fourth ring.

"Hey Kylie."

"Hey," I say back, relieved it's Sarah. For some reason, my parents are less than enthused when I greet callers with anything but the typical "Hello?" particularly when it opens the floor up to questions regarding our refrigeration habits.

"What's up?"

"Erm, not much. Cleaning," I add sheepishly.

"Well, sorry to interrupt you," Sarah says, the grin evident in her voice. "Did Atawell bust you?"

"Yeah, she talked to my dad. He wasn't too happy either; I 'am to report,' he says, to the firehouse everyday after school."

"Ah," she answers in her "wise tone."

We talk for a little while longer, until I can practically hear my chemistry book flapping its pages in anger, demanding to be studied. I tell Sarah I'll IM her later and we hang up. Walking back into my room, I resign myself to a long session of homework.