"Tash, I hate roller coasters," Jim complained as the safety bar lowered.

"That's not a problem, this isn't a roller coaster. It's a thrill ride." Natasha grinned at the sour look Jim gave her. It was soon wiped off his face and replaced by something akin to fear as the 'thrill ride' came to life. After what seemed like years, the two teenagers stumbled out onto the loading platform. Even Natasha seemed shaken.

"Let's go on a...tamer one this time," she suggested. "How about the ferris wheel?"

Jim nodded. It was the perfect time to go on the ferris wheel, the sun was just beginning to set behind the Las Vegas skyline, and it made for a spectacular light show in the sky.

Natasha looked critically at her watch. "I should be going right now, but I think I can make it home before seven if I run home right after the ferris wheel is done. So we'll have to say our goodbyes on it. Okay?" She didn't wait for Jim to answer, just dragged him over to the ticket man, who settled them comfortably, side by side, on one of the seats. He pushed the safety bar down over their waists and continued selling tickets.

In moments, the ferris wheel began to move, and both kids shivered from the cool breeze and the quickly heightening altitude. Natasha's breath was taken away by the fabulous colors streaking across the Nevada sky. She grabbed Jim's hand and squeezed it. They reached the crest of the ferris wheel's arc, staring across at the sunset, then back into each other's eyes. With his free hand, Jim cupped Natasha's face and drew it closer to his own. The distance between them closed in seconds. Jim kissed Natasha tenderly, letting his hand fall from where it was resting on her cheek and dropping it around her waist, pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss. To his surprise, Natasha pulled away and, true to word, ran home as soon as the safety bar was up and she was free of the seat, leaving Jim, forlorn and disappointed, in her wake.

Natasha ran, taking a shortcut through a park. She fell down on a bench and began to cry bitter tears of disappointment. She was angry at herself for leaving Jim. She felt heartless, cruel, and...tantalizing. She let her tears fall, soaking her t-shirt, then walked the rest of the way home, not caring that her mom was angry at her lateness, not caring that she'd begun to sniffle from being in the cold dusk air with a wet shirt, just wanting to crawl under the blankets on her bed and forget about love, life, laughter, everything.

She put on her Travis Tritt cd, letting the music wash over her, lull her into a chaotic calm, a stormy sea of indifference. She sang along, her voice breaking on and off with sobs, her shoulders shaking. "I can't hide the way I feel about you anymore, I can't hold the hurt inside, keep the pain out of my eyes anymore." After the first two lines she gave up, turning her face into the giant pink pillow at the head of her bed. She let the tears soak in, burying her face into the bright material, pulling the blanket up over her head as she did so.

"I've got to take the chance or let it pass by," she said, her voice cracking. The words coming from her stereo, the soothing voice, staunched the flood of tears. Natasha rested her head back on the pillow and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about the choices she would make and the things she had to face.

When she woke up, she pulled her phone out of the cradle. With one finger, she punched in Jim's number. When she heard his voice pick up, she didn't notice just how melancholy he sounded, how his voice seemed to depict that of a puppet, one forced to answer phones, to talk to people when he was just too broken. "Jim I can't do this, I'm sorry. I'm just not ready and I want to be with you but I can't." She didn't wait for an answer, didn't leave a name, just slammed the phone back down and turned over, letting the shores of sleep draw her back into their misty depths, finally free from the world.

XoXoXoXoX

Nick heard a knock at his door. He mumbled a quick, inaudible greeting, not turning away from the book he was reading. He looked up, however, when he realized just who it was. Danielle had stepped gracefully through the door.

"Well, dear brother, I've come up with a plan." Her voice was bouncy, despite the graveness of the situation she was speaking of. "Here's what you have to do..."

Nick listened intently. When she finished, he said plainly, "That's not my opinion. Are you proposing that I'm supposed to lie?"

"For our purposes, yes, I'd say that's exactly what I'm proposing. But that's just me. You can decide if you want to do it, only the most sure-fire way to repair your friendship and, ultimately, improve your chances of winning Sara's affection."

"Well, when you put it that way," Nick said jokingly. "On one condition. You have to help me more. You know I'm no good at that kind of thing, Danielle. Will you?"

She nodded, flipping her long brown hair back out of her eyes. Stepping gingerly over the threshold of the room, where she had been standing casually, she came to sit down on the bed. "I'll dictate and you can write it down. I'm sure that'll help you. Now grab that paper and we'll get started on this diabolical plan, what say you?"

Nick smiled at his sister's eccentric way of talking, grabbing the paper and searching around his normally neat room for a pen. When he'd found one, he sat back down and looked expectantly at his older sister.

"All right, here we go. Make sure you get all of this, okay, Nicky?"

XoXoXoXoX

The closet door banged open and Catherine began rumaging through it, searching for the shirt Sara had lent her. "I've had it for way too long, now where can it have gone?" She moved aside a few articles of clothing hanging, rumpled, on their hangers. She stepped back when she saw the dress she'd worn to the dance, still looking as fresh and beautiful as when she'd bought it. Disregarding her search for the shirt entirely, she took the dress off it's hanger and sat on the bed with it in her lap.

Looking closely at the top edge, she could faintly see where her tears had dampened the fabric. Without thinking, she stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt and slipped the dress on, letting it hug her curves. She leaned back against her wall, trying to imagine exactly what had happened before the fight. She had almost forgotten the fight. When Catherine thought about it, she was fuming.

She pulled on her street clothes and slammed the front door behind her, walking the three blocks to the boy's house. She'd been over there once, when she was little, and she remembered exactly where he lived. Knocking on the door, she was met by his mother. "Is Bobby available? I'd like to speak to him, if it's possible."

Bobby's mom yelled into the house for him to come out, and the boy was surprised to see Catherine standing on his doorstep. "Do you want to walk with me?" she asked sweetly.

It was almost insulting how quickly he bolted out of the house and snaked his arm around her waist. She tried not to cringe at his sweaty hand resting on her hip, instead starting a meaningless conversation which he was using to look casually down the front of her shirt.

"Do you remember at the dance? When I was with that guy and you beat him up?" she asked apbruptly.

"Yeah, I got him good," Bobby said, laughing stupidly.

"Yeah," Catherine said, turning and slapping him full across the face. "I think it's really hot when you beat the shit out of innocent guys who've never bothered you. And it's great to call dibs on girls, too." She punched him hard in the stomach, slapping him again when he bent, his eyes watering. "So keep it up. I'm sure tons of girls will be all over you." Her voice was dangerous, deadly, dripping with sarcasm. She slapped him one more time for good measure and walked away, swinging her hips.