Act normal, pretend everything's fine. Today my insanity has curved so far back in on itself, I've clambered out of my emotional gravity well. But I have a plan. Today is my teacher's wedding. I used to very much despise weddings. But now I'm going to one, and I can't wait.

I grab the bag I've packed for this special occasion from my trunk. I yank my clothes off, and stuff them into the bag. It's thrilling standing out here, utterly exposed, in an unexposed space. My own skin turns me on. I remember Miss Beaumont's weight on my legs, her warm breath on the back of my neck. Stop it.

I put on the dress pants, and shirt. They're both horribly baggy, faded from years of residing in my closet. I like it like that. I pull out on the highway and go southeast.

I did it.

It's over.

I survived.

I wonder if she will come back to me now? Back home we make Paul Newman spaghetti. I tell everyone everything is all right. It's a beginning.

Scream

"Look who's here sweetie!" Mom yells. The last bite of Paul catches in my throat. Miss Beaumont? My hands turn into fists. Kill her, take her into my arms. It's only Skye. Please not tonight, of all nights. But the pang in my chest lets me know just how much I've missed her.

She slouches uncertainly next to the sofa as if she doesn't know what to say. What to ask me. Call me crazy but my theory is Tall Shy. But that's just me. "Hey." "Hi." Mom thankfully comes in, and blows up the silence. "Skye, can I make you something to eat?" Without her answer mom rushes back off to the kitchen. I'm the only one who can tell when something's bothering her: her ears go up.

"You're not going to tell me what's been going on are you?" "Nope." I turn away, and mold myself into the sofa. "Don't make me think, not tonight." "Not possible." As usual she's right. I'm wired for thought. Right at this second I'm thinking how badly I need her to go away.

She's too important to me. I can't hold the truth in much longer without her finding out. Say something, anything but that. She flops down beside me, and I am excruciatingly aware of her pleasant girl-woman smell emitting from her. I scrunch away from her as far as I can.

"Are you contagious or something?" I'm tired. I'm sad. Worse. Skye tries to re-enter me with another tactic. "Want to go to Liquid tonight?" Liquid is a place where teens under 21 can go party with their parents. Without getting wasted.

Now that I've been to the Other Side, her virginal enthusiasm kind of creeps me out. "I don't really feel like doing anything tonight." "But why-" Mom comes back in. "It's ready Skye." We watch Skye demolish a plate of spaghetti. "Are you going to prom Skye?" Mom asks. My foot twitches uncontrollably. If I didn't love her so much I'd kick her shins in two.

Skye frowns and glances sideways at me. "Not really Mrs. Parker, no one psychotic enough to ask." Mom smiles, "Well I know of a darling young man who—" "Mom!" "All right." She sighs, and gets up from the table. "It's past my bedtime anyways."

"You ask anybody?" "Nope, and I probably won't. Can I drive you home?" I grab my keys before she can refuse. The car ride is too silent for my liking, my ears might start to bleed. I pull into the driveway, and I touch her arm.

"Look Skye it's not you, it's me. It's my problem." I put my hands in her hair, and I manifest a smile. "But thanks for coming over." I hope she believes me.

Insomnia

I'm stuck in a place right above sleep, and I can't reach it. I shift to a diagonal position so my feet won't hang off the bed. Bed….. I can't stop thinking about Miss Beaumont and Allan Johnson. The newly joined couple. What are they doing right now? Newly joining?

I wiggle my toes and pretend some of them are hers. What if the joining isn't so new? What if Miss Beaumont was screwing us both, at the same time?

KILL THEM BOTH.

Sorry I have need to go away for awhile, so I can cover this gorilla sized scream in the depths of my pillowcase.