I'm giddy to write this story. I don't know why. For some reason I just feel the urge to sit down and write and write and write, but I figure I better keep you in suspense with a little bit of time between updates (that and plus there's that teensy issue of attending summer term and going to work, grr). Maybe I can even extract a couple more reviews by doing so. Not that I'm "begging" for reviews or anything. Random. Umm yeah, what else? Nope, I think that's about it for now.

Disclaimer: not mine, I don't even own a witty comment to put here instead.

(Oh, and I am not in any way making fun of people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Ellie just really isn't in the mood to listen to what he was to say, but she doesn't personally have anything against the kid or his disorder at all.)

Here it is, sort of a filler chapter, hope that's okay!


The following week at group, I again found myself unable to concentrate.

Some new guy, Don or Ron or Hubert or whatever, was currently in the process of spilling his poor little guts about the horrors of living with his mental health problem, OCD. He was bravely attempting to bare his tortured soul to a roomful of strangers, choking up on his every forth or fifth word and staring fixedly at the worn maroon carpet in the circle's center while he blinked back tears with heartbreaking vulnerability.

I should have been listening with an open mind and a soft heart, admiring him for the breathtaking display of courage he had shown on his first visit which I still found myself lacking in after months of sessions.

I should have smiled encouragingly at him when he found the nerve to tear his gaze away from the floor and look up at all of us, eyes red and lower lip trembling as he spoke of how it was the death of his grandmother that lead to him seek help. How he knew it was a dying wish of hers for him to get better.

I shouldn't have been fighting desperately to swallow down the eruption of giggles struggling against the back of my throat, threatening forcibly to burst forth from my mouth and embarrass the hell out of little whatshisface up there. Not able to hold himself in any longer, he had begun to cry silently. His tears were slowly building in abundance and intensity right along with my barely-sustained laughter, and at the exact moment that he chose to break down with a shaky, mournful wail, I definitely shouldn't have accidentally released a loud and utterly inappropriate guffaw.

But the thing is, I did.

Everyone froze in their chairs,the group leader shooting me a look that dripped of horror and disappointment. Huey or Howard or Travis or whatever the hell his name was, swiftly turned scarlet with shame, again ducking his head away from sympathetic expressions of the circle. Well, some of them were wearing expressions of sympathy, the others were staring in disbelief at me and my ability to be such an absolutely heartless bitch. Shrugging my shoulders apologetically, I mouthed a wide-eyed "I'm so sorry" and scooted back in my chair, waiting nervously for the attention to turn away from me and return to...that kid, you know, the blonde, skinny, crying one.

But truly, it wasn't my fault.

Craig shouldn't have been distracting me during Mr. obsessive-compulsive's tearful confession, therefore my embarrassing blunder had been due to no fault of my own and entirely all of his doing.

His face shouldn't have been contorting with a strained effort while his hands fluttered and twisted, fingers straightening out and snapping back as he attempted in vain to convey a message of some sort to me from his seat across the room.

The boy had gone mental.

He he he, don't roll your eyes at me, you know you smiled at my superbly dry Nash humor too. Get it, a kid in a support group for teens having mental health issues going mental? Geez, some people have no sense of humor...

Speaking of which, one of those aforementioned people was our group leader, Phillip (A/N: don't think they have ever specifically identified the leader of Craig and Ellie's group, so I am making one up. I hate the name Phillip. Phillip was the sweaty kid in my first grade class.) He shook his head sorrowfully at me one last time, and then went to attend to the crying kid. For the life of me, I just can't seem to recall his name, Tristan, maybe? Anyway as soon as his back was turned, (Phillip's, not little boy no-name's) I issued a fierce whisper to Craig.

"So what, now your epileptic too? What the hell are you doing over there? Geez, no wonder Ash ran off to England, you're a freaking nut job!"

Now granted, a week ago, Craig probably would have gotten all huffy and puffy like a little girl if someone had dared to poke fun of his "problems" and his runaway girlfriend, especially within the same insult. A couple late-night swimming expeditions together though, and we've kind of established this snarky little back and forth based upon cutting each other down as viciously as possible. Quite invigorating, actually.

Dropping his hands, he gave me a look of contempt before hissing back, "They're called hand signals, you dumbfuck. If we are going to have a secret rendezvous, we need a secret language!"

"Don't call me a dumbfuck, you dumbfuck, have some respect for a lady!"

"Well maybe when I'm talking to a lady I'll show her some respect, but right now, I'm just talking to you!"

"Well at least I'm not waving my hands around like some-"

"Ellie!" Phillip's humorless tone scolded, cutting me off before I let loose with some rather colorful language, "Please, could you try and show a little courtesy to Jacob!"

Jacob? Who, Jacob Black? Oh yeah wait, the OCD kid. The one whose tears I had blatantly laughed at. I was just opening my mouth to formulate an apology, when Craig, whom Phillip had his back to, gave the group leader a hand signal that even I understood. Prompting me to let loose with yet another offensive guffaw, drawing even more appalled stares and causing Phillip to turn purple with what I'm sure was the unexpressed longing to kick my sorry ass out of group once and for all. Of course, he couldn't possibly follow through with it, since doing so could possibly lead to a horrible relapse on my part and then who would be to blame if I up and killed myself? But still, just to be on the safe side, I decided not to make eye contact with Craig for the duration of the session.

Oh, that silly, silly boy.

Staring intently at Phillip and pretending to listen, I killed the time until I was underwater by pondering the radical shift in my rapport with Mr. Craig Manning. It's really quite odd how in a matter of days that strange boy and I have become fast friends, our escapades at the pool quickly showing us how easy we both find it to talk to one another, about both absolutely everything and nothing in particular. Music, obviously, we clicked on immediately, but beyond that I can just talk to him about totally random, ridiculous things. Not that I am a particularly ridiculous kind of girl, but it's nice to have someone with whom I can share totally spacey banter. That sort of stuff would haved bored the hell out of Ashley or Marco, and especially Sean. Stupid, heartbreaking, irresponsible Sean. Just between us, sometimes I find myself secretly wishing a shark shallows his big stupid head while he's out in the freaking water on his precious damned beach.

Not that I'm bitter or anything, of course.

Anyway, I suppose to some people it must have seemed inevitable that we would get along, what with our similar taste in friends and all, but for some reason Craig has always got on my nerves before now. He was cocky, adulterous, sex-crazed, and far too pretty for his own good. I was more than happy to hate him along with Ashley when she made up her mind to cut him out of her life for half a second, but when she decided to give him a second try my feelings of misgivings still lingered.

I'd bet Phillip would love to analyze the hell out of this, pulling up my troubles at home with my mother and my father's absence and all that other itchy stuff, but in the end he would have only ended up echoing what Alex said that night playing euchre at my house. I guess I kind of have trouble with trusting people. Bah, but doesn't everyone to some degree? What could I really do about it anyway? For some reason though, I have no problem trusting Craig with my pool secret, trivial as it may seem. Not that I really had a choice in the matter though, what with the arrogant bitch basically crash-landing headfirst into my private little world. But grudgingly I must admit, it's become a better place because of him.

In a totally platonic, buddy-pal-chum kind of way of course. You've really got a sick mind, you know that? Yeah, me falling for Manning, like that could ever happen.


Hmm, foreshadowing, anyone?