A/N: Hey gallies! I figured maybe I should stop saying "guys" seeing as, to my knowledge, none of you guys possess a weiner or a ball that isn't of the bouncing/chocolate/cheese variety. So I shall call you gallies, or by your rightful species name: mutant penguin furballs.


The rest of the week passed like something out of Huckleberry Fin or Little House on the Prairie. I would wake up to find Jesse sat on my bed, looking down at me with what can only be called love in his eyes.

I would get up, perform my usual daily ablutions and rituals, then Jesse would help me downstairs – usually by placing both hands on my waist and supporting me as I descended the stairs. He would forever be hovering near me as I reached into the cupboards for cereal, or as I sat down ungracefully in a chair. But he wasn't hovering in an "annoying wasp" kinda way. More like a "guide dog for the blind" kind of way.

It was cute, it really was.

And then the rest of the day would be spent watching TV, reading magazines (or in Jesse's case a very big book) whilst snuggled up on the couch, or just plain making out. It was cosy. Like married life with a dead dude.

And before I knew it, it was Sunday night, and my mom was helping me pick out what shoes to wear for school the next day.

Not that I actually needed help picking out my shoes. Please. The attack affected my ankle, knee, wrist, and ribs; not my mind. But mom felt sure that my Steve Madden slides weren't really all that appropriate, and she fully gave me this lecture about wearing sneakers because, and I quote, "Not only do they support, they give comfort and look good too."

I was in such a state of shock I just stood there letting my mother bumble about me picking out matching clothes.

Of course, I couldn't wear any of my skirts – ew, no. Not with my mutant knee – so I had some rather nice khaki green slacks and I was going to wear a long-sleeved T to hide all my rather gross black, blue, and purple – and now yellow and green, of all colors – bruises, but I didn't think I wanted to melt during school on my first day back. So instead I decided to be brave and bear my marks. And I wore a tank top.

I was not looking forward to going back. Last time I'd been in hospital, Kelly and Debbie followed me round everywhere, even to the loo. Like I was gonna fall down it, or something.

But I won't need their help this time – not that I needed it last time – because I can totally hobble to my heart's content and my ribs aren't aching my so much that I need to crouch down like a granny on a Zimmer frame to walk this time.

I should have known it wasn't going to be that easy though. The second I stepped out my car, I had a bunch of kids from David's year group coming up to me and hugging and touching and clinging on to me. I don't even know who they are. They were just squealing at me saying, "We're so glad you're back!" and "I hope that bad man didn't hurt you too much!" in their quivering, tinny little voices.

It was like being attacked by the munchkin people.

Then when I finally got to homeroom, everyone was bearing down on me, pushing their gifts of plush toys, freshly picked daisies from the school's garden, and half-empty boxes of chocolates onto me. There were a couple of colourful balloons hanging from the ceiling and a banner that said, "Welcome back, Suze!" on which someone had scribbled, "Again!" in wonky letters. That made me smile. I think it was Adam's handwriting.

Then everyone went silent and cleared a path for Kelly, who stepped forward, basking in all the attention, and said, in this "I've practiced this speech in front of my mirror and I am totally going to be a senator one of these days" voice: "Suze Simon, I present you with this card signed by all who wanted to sign it and wish you the best of health. We were totally sorry to hear that you got injured, but we figured that, because you lived in New York before you came here, you would be used to this kinda thing happening to you anyway," she took a break to give her hair a little flick and simper at whoever's eye she caught. I really did wonder where she got all this stuff about New York from. I'm guessing it just fizzled into her mind from some strange place. "We hope you get better soon, we truly do."

Then she handed me this card that was the size of President Abe's head on Mount Rushmore and turned and walked over to her seat to finish the manicure she was giving herself.

Then everyone else kinda dispersed and it was just me and CeeCee and Adam. The latter of which was trying to sign my wrist cast even though I was moving it about to try and stop him.

"Sorry about that. We told the Bobsey twins over there," she nodded her head to Kelly and Debbie where they were applying nail polish in synchronised strokes, "that you wouldn't want this kinda thing but you know how excited they get whenever you're almost-maimed," she gave a helpless shrug.

I could understand her though. If Kelly and Debbie have their hearts set on something – no matter how utterly moronic it is – they are unstoppable in their wake. They're like these two giant Titanic's that, unlike the original, cannot be stopped by anything, even an iceberg.

They crush anything and anyone in their path.

Adam handed me my "surprise" present – that rape alarm. I tested it out and almost deafened him.

"Thanks, Adam!" I said with a genuine smile.

"What?" Adam yelled back, a finger in his ear.

The rest of the day was a blur. Teachers gave me "oh aren't you so special" looks whenever I hobbled into their classes, and even Sister Ernestine's look of exasperation weren't so exasperated when she spied my cast.

As I was hobbling out of school, ready to go home and have some Suze-and-Jesse time, I felt something creep up behind me.

"You gonna carry that alarm around with you whenever you come round to my house? Or am I going to be the exception in your defenses?" Two arms snaked round my waist and I felt a breath flutter through my hair and across my neck.

"Ready to help me become whole again? It's getting pretty dull not being able to tease you in class like I used to. I miss out footsie fumbles."

I snorted at that. "Our 'footise fumbles' as you call them, are nothing more than me kicking you whenever you get that glint in your eye."

Paul stepped around from behind me with an expression of mock hurt. "Oh, now. That hurts me, that really does."

I gave him a sarcastic smile and tried to step around him. I ended up falling into him as he stepped in my way and I over-balanced. With him firmly gripping my arms, I had no choice but to look up into his eyes.

"You ready to help my find away back into life? Or do you prefer me in this state where I could accidentally pop in on you in the shower when you think about me in pure adolescent hormonal ways. Cause if that's how it is, then I gotta tell ya: I honestly wouldn't mind sticking round like this," his pupils grew larger. "I'm good in the shower, Suze."

Damn that aftershave! It was swirling all around me. "I'm sure you are, but I have to get my ride before it leaves without me..." I tried to wriggle out of his grip but to no avail.

"Uh uh," he said, shaking one of his fingers at me. "You're coming home with me. We need to figure out how to get me out of here, okay?"

I scowled up at him. "Fine. Let me just go tell Brad." I wrenched myself from his grasp and stumbled over to the car. Dopey questioned me, but when I told him I was going round to Adam's he lost interest. Fine with me.

I turned to walk back to Paul and he appeared magically in front of me. "Let's go," I growled. I mean, come on! I had a mutant knee and a sore ankle and I was supposed to limp all the way to Paul's?

So sue me if I felt like grumbling a bit!

In actuality, though, the trip was rather pleasant. For once I was glad I had listened to my mom's aging fashion tips and worn my sneakers. They were comfy and supportive. Just a shame they didn't look so good. And my trousers were fully made designed for heat retention, which meant I was practically melting onto the sidewalk like the Wicked Witch from the West.

Paul and I kept up scintillating conversation all the five-or-so miles and was even quite the gentleman and propped me up on his this crook of his arm when I began to get a little tired.

It was a new side of Paul. Death suits him.

The sad truth is, it really does. Maybe I should tame him and make him my minion? Show him what it feels like to be on the other side of the boat?

Yeah. Cos Paul's a real easy guy to tame.

By the time we made it to his house, it was already into the evening, and I was hungry. And you know you what happened?

I made dinner at Paul's house! And, okay, so it was only a frozen ready-meal. But it was still dinner! I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher (hey! I'm a guest; I gotta act guestly) when Paul came up silently behind me.

Well, maybe not so silently.

I was bending over and putting my plate away when I heard a long, low whistle.

"If this is the view from behind, the front must be good."

I straightened up instantly and whipped round.

Paul's face split into a wide grin. "Wow. It is good," he said. I rolled my eyes and put out my hands in a kind of "stop, or I'll shoot" gesture.

"Don't ruin this," I warned. Paul took another step closer.

"In fact, it's better than good," he carried on as if I hadn't spoken, taking a couple of steps closer. How rude.

"Paul..." I said in this low voice, like Spike when he growls when he wants me to back off from his cat food.

"It's way better," he murmured, now standing right in front of me. His eyes were on my lips.

And, I'm disgusted to say, my eyes were pretty much on his lips too. Debating whether I should go for the top one of bottom one when I kissed him.

"Paul, I'm injured," I said, my eyes were still on his lips. I honest to God tried to drag them up to his eyes. I swear. But it just wasn't happening.

"Don't worry," he said in this wolfish voice that got me worrying even more. "I'll be gentle," he whispered, right into my ear.

"Back away from the girl, Paul," I muttered. My voice was kinda breathy and without any real conviction, I sounded like someone off Baywatch trying to act.

"We don't have to do anything too strenuous, Suze. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I did all the work."

My mind was screaming, Let him do all the work! You know he's good at his job, make him get to work, NOW!

And my heart was screaming, Dude, aren't you, like, in love with that other ghost? Um...Jesse? And you can totally tell he's way in love with you. Do you really wanna break that guy's heart?

As you can see, my body was a very confused place. And Paul's damn aftershave that was slowly infiltrating my sense and overriding my synapses wasn't clearing up the situation at hand either.

Then the cavalry arrived.

"Susan! How nice to see you again! Mr Slater will be pleased to see you again."

Paul thunked his head down onto my shoulder in despair and I quietly worshipped Grandpa Slater's nurse, who had chosen that moment to come and save me from, what was deemed to be, sinfully delightful disaster.

"Hi! Talking about Mr Slater, I think I'll just go visit him." And I slunk off away from Paul and towards mute salvation.

Paul's grandpa was sat watching an old Dallas re-run. I nervously shuffled into the room and stood by the door, watching the screen, trying to figure out the best way to escape from this house.

"My fool grandson rope you in to help him back to life?" The old man suddenly rang out.

I admit it, I freaked. I jumped into he air and let out a startled shriek. I managed a nod when he turned round in his chair to hold me in place with a piercing blue-eyed gaze.

"You have to think about the basics. The simplicities of the ordeal. Then reverse it. Fill that void with what he's missing. That's all you have to do."

I stared at the back of his head as he slowly turned back to Dallas.

"Of course," he continued. "It may just be the death of you."

Now, I honesty don't think that's something you should be telling young girls like me. I mean, seriously. Here I am trying to make my Girl's Scout leader happy by doing my good turn, and good old grandpa here is threatening me with possible impending doom and fatality.

It's just something you don't do. Out of the goodness of your heart and the purity of your soul.

I'm beginning to wonder if Jack is adopted – he seems to be the only one in that family who doesn't wish to be a faithful follower in the cult of Satan.

Just as my mind had begun to function again and I was about to ask Grandpa Slater what the devil he was talking about – if you'll pardon the pun -, his nurse came striding back into the room with his usual "I wish my cheeriness was contagious" smile and Slater slipped back into his dormant state of being.

But because I'm Suze Simon, holder of the hand of Aces in the deck of life, I decided to look on the bright side: I had learnt something about how to save Paul.

Unfortunately, it looked like the hand I was holding this time was a royal flush – and not in the good sense – because what I had learned was that, in saving Paul's life, I was most likely going to be sacrificing my own.

Do they have Prada in death?