The Michigan day was cool. It wasn't warm, it usually never was at this point in February, but it was getting there. Three boys walked casually on a sidewalk in the downtown area of Royal Woods, and the group had no real plans other than to eventually stop somewhere and get lunch. Days like these were their favorite.

"We should burn something," Austin said, kicking an empty and abandoned can down the road as the group walked.

"Burn something?" questioned Brandon. "Like what?"

"I don't know. We can find a piece of trash on the ground or something and set it on fire. It sounds fun."

"You sound like a pyromaniac," Lucas said, shaking his head.

The boys came to a bench in front of a small Vietnam memorial and sat. American flags lined the street nearby, waving in the wind, and the sun shone brightly down from above. It was nearing noon.

"I don't think burning anything is a good idea," said Brandon. "Isn't that illegal?"

Austin shrugged.

"Do you even have a match?"

In answer, Austin reached in his pocket and fished out a lighter, spinning it around in his hands.

"Of course he does," Lucas said. "It's like he never goes anywhere without it."

Brandon made a joke at Austin's expense, and the two began to laugh, but Lucas didn't hear; his attention was arrested by a figure making its way down the sidewalk not too far away on the other side of the street. He squinted his eyes and leaned in to get a better look. Was that…?

It was. Lucas spotted someone from his high school, the junior with white hair who was

in his media production class. Sort of hard to miss. He didn't know his name, but he had heard someone call him Loud once, he thought. Hey, Loud, how's it going? Was that a nickname?

As his friends talked, Lucas stood. It was a slow and lazy day and the streets were presently clear, and the boy began to sprint across the road.

"Loud!" he called.

Upon hearing his voice, Lincoln stopped his tracks and sort of jolted in place as if he put a fork in a plugged in toaster for half a second before pulling it out. Lucas frowned. Had he frightened him? Maybe it wasn't the best idea to introduce himself by running and screaming at him, but as he turned and looked at Lucas, realizing it was just a kid from one of his classes, the junior smiled.

Lucas arrived and jumped in front of him. "Hey, man," he said. "Media production, right? Didn't expect to see you out here."

"I guess you're just lucky," he said.

Lucas thought of chuckling at the joke but decided against it. For a moment, the two boys stood still and silent. A gust of wind carried a leaf past them.

"I—" began Lucas. He stopped when he felt a vibration in his pocket. "Hold on. I need to take this real quick."

Lincoln nodded and Lucas produced a phone from out of his pocket. He looked at the screen, saw who was calling, and gritted his teeth.


"Going somewhere?" Lucy asked from the couch as Lincoln, clad in a windbreaker, made his way to the front door.

He arrived at the door and turned. His sister was on the couch, sitting with a paperback in her hands. Her eyes went across the page, moved down and to the left to the start of a new line, moved across the page again, and repeated the process without pause or hesitation.

"Just getting some fresh air," he said truthfully.

Lucy nodded, and he threw open the door to a new Saturday morning. He checked the time before he was left, and noon was a little over half an hour away. Lincoln would take a stroll around the town alone, collect his thoughts, maybe get a bite to eat at one point, and come home. He had no real responsibilities until two when he would have to be home as Luan would be visiting the house and she probably wanted to see him.

He went down the path in his front yard and decided to take a left. His mind drifted to the sophomore boy, and he immediately thought himself stupid for allowing such a thing to happen. He'd shared a single brief conversation with the student, and he didn't even know his name, but he had occupied so much of Lincoln's mind space over the past few days that it was beginning to become ridiculous.

Every time that he thought back to the sophomore, he felt that feeling that was almost like fear but not really. If Lincoln had to describe it, he'd do so by calling it some unholy, off brand version of apprehension… but, surprisingly it didn't feel entirely bad.

Regardless, he didn't like it because he didn't understand it and because he didn't want to plunge himself into an internal crisis over a kid whose name he didn't even know. Lincoln would simply purge it all from his mind and forget about it. He wouldn't allow it to shove its way in his life without warning and cause problems.

Lincoln came to a four way intersection and decided to take a right. There was no traffic, so he crossed the street without hesitation. To his left, now, were trees, a forest extending far beyond his range of vision, and to his right on the other side of the road were homes. Michigan suburbia had some sort of charm on it that Lincoln couldn't put his finger on. He'd never been able to. He took out his phone and brought up his contact list. Maybe talking to someone would put his mind on the right track. After a brief phone conversation, he'd probably never think about the sophomore again.

But who? Did it really matter? Lincoln scrolled quickly up and down through his contacts so that the list was a blur, and tapped the screen at random, not really knowing what to expect. Leni's bright smiling face filled his screen and Lincoln, too, smiled. This would do. Surely, a conversation with the sweetest person that God put on the face of the planet would help matters.

The phone rang and rang until she picked up. Lincoln brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Leni."

"Hi, Linky! What's up?"

"Not much, really. Just wanted to talk. Are you busy?"

She hummed, considering. Lincoln grinned as he imagined a thoughtful finger on her chin and her eyes gazing up and away, considering.

"I can talk, sure."

"Cool. How are things going?"

She paused. "They're going okay. Not too great, but I'm still happy. Sales have been down and there's whispers about layoffs, but they're just rumors. And even if it does come to that, I'm sure my job will be safe. Teresa says that I'm her best worker."

Leni had left home for college all the way in California five years ago, and had gotten a job at a small fashion outlet nearby during her first year to help pay tuition. She kept the job all throughout college, and upon graduation, Teresa, the store's owner, promoted her to a section manager.

"I'm sure you'll be kept on. You're irreplaceable."

"Aw, thanks. But it's still scary anyway, you know?"

"Yeah. I'd imagine."

"Do you ever get scared, Lincoln?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm just talking into the wind. I just used to be so scared growing up, you know? Like, I'd freak out over a spider." She laughed. "Now, I still don't really

like spiders, but I don't think I'm so scared of them anymore. Fear is important but you can't let yourself be too scared of something, especially something that's not actually dangerous."

"...Yeah, I guess."

They talked some more. Lincoln and Leni spoke about the family, her life, and his life. Omitted from any of this was any mention of the sophomore.

"Oh! I have to go now," said Leni at one point. "I'm meeting a couple of friends for lunch soon."

"Alright, Leni. I hope you're having a good time down there in Cali."

"Thanks, Linc! I love you.".

"I love you too. Bye."

"Bye!"

Lincoln continued to walk, not really thinking but not functioning fully on autopilot, either. He was feeling much better, now. His conversation with Leni had cheered him up and brought him out of his funk. The one caused by the sophomore.

Lincoln chuckled. He didn't forget it completely. He was in control of his mind—for whatever reason, he had been thinking about the sophomore, and he didn't like it. That's why he had called Leni. But now he felt better. Things were looking up.

It was a bit closer to noon and now Lincoln went up the sidewalk on a small bridge suspended over a flowing river. He reached down, grabbed a stone, and tossed it over. Lincoln held on to the railings and watched as gravity carried it down. It hit the water with a satisfying plop! and a small splash. Lincoln smiled and continued on. The other end of the bridge began the downtown area of Royal Woods. Small businesses lined either side of the street and American flags connected to street lamps waved in the gentle breeze. There were more people here, too. Across the street, a man walked a dog, and nearby a woman pushed along a stroller. A group of three boys sat on a bench, and… and… was that…?

Quickly and without warning, alarm coursed through Lincoln's body like a slick and cold liquid. Sitting between two other boys was the sophomore Lincoln had met in media production class.

What were the odds? Royal Woods wasn't exactly a ginormous town, but it wasn't a small one, either. Hundreds of students went to Lincoln's high school. It wasn't even like—

"Loud!" the sophomore called.

He stopped his tracks and sort of jolted in surprise.

Lincoln was spotted.

The sophomore approached him and Lincoln forced a smile, lest he come off as scared. "Hey, man," he said. "Media production, right? Didn't expect to see you out here."

"I guess you're just lucky," Lincoln blurted. Why did he say that? It sounded weird. And pretentious? Lucky? To see him? Yeah, right.

For a moment, the two boys stood still and silent. A gust of wind carried a leaf past them. Lincoln became suddenly hyper-conscious of his hands. What was he supposed to do with them? Quickly, he shoved them in the pockets of his windbreakers.

"I—" began the sophomore. He stopped and felt in his pocket before taking out a phone. "Hold on. I need to take this real quick."

Lincoln nodded but the sophomore didn't see. He looked at the phone screen and gritted his teeth as if in frustration.

"What do you want?" he answered angrily. A pause. "No, I don't really have time right now." Pause. "Like you care." Pause. "Why do you think?" Pause. "Yeah, I thought so." Pause. "Maybe he'll do some good for you. Read you the riot act or something." Pause. "Okay. Whatever." Pause. "Bye."

"Ouch," said Lincoln as the boy put away his phone. "That hardly sounded pleasant."

The sophomore shrugged. "Anything but. That was my dad." He shook his head. "He cheated on my mom when I was little and then left her when she found out. He had custody of me one week per month, but I've stopped going because fuck him."

"And he's not making you go?"

"No, but he's asking me. I won't fall for it, though."

"Huh."

A pause.

"Do you have any problems like that?" the sophomore asked.

"Family problems? No, not really. My five older sisters are moved out."

"Five, huh?"

"Yeah. And I have five younger ones, too."

Seventeen years in, and Lincoln was used to surprising people by telling him how many siblings that he had. Wow, ten? That's crazy! The boy standing in front of him, though, only chuckled.

"That's a lot. I don't have any myself." He took a brief pause and took a moment before opening his mouth to say something else, but was cut off.

"Dude!" called one of his friends from across the street. "Are we gonna eat, or what?"

"I really don't know much about your situation," said Lincoln, "but I would try being a little nice to your father."

"Huh? Why's that?"

"Well, he's still your dad, right? Don't you love him?"

"Not really."

"Dude!" came another yell from across the street.

"Maybe you're right," said the sophomore, turning. "But he's a total fuckwad. I don't want to waste my time with him."

"Just some food for thought."

"Well, I guess I'll talk to you later, Loud," said the boy, walking away. "Thanks for the advice and small talk."

Lincoln looked on. "Yeah. Bye."

And he kept looking.


Lucy sat on the window seat Lana installed in her bedroom last year, her knees drawn to her chest, and stared up at the icy face of the moon. Cold wind stirred barren branches and moaned ominously in the eaves; if she listened closely, she could almost make out words. Nooooo, or maybe gooooo. In cartoons, the abstract concept of conflicting thought is often represented by a literal angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, both vying for control of the heart and mind of their prey. The devil, of course, urged the evil option, while the angel begged for goodness. In her case, one told her go and the other no. She was unsure, however, of which creature proposed which course. Did the devil want her to go and fall deeper into trouble? Or did the angel wish her to avenge herself?

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 9:15. Mom and Dad were both already in bed and she hadn't heard anything from the hallway. Lola and Lana were likely watching a movie in the living room like they often did on Saturday nights, and Lincoln, she imagined, was in his room, reading a comic. She was certain she could sneak out and not be missed, but that certainly gave her pause. In her thoughts, she likened the vandals to serial killers growing bolder and bolder with each passing crime. When they were at their most self-confident, they would slip up. They always do. The saying pride goeth before the fall existed for a reason, of course.

That reasoning applied equally to her. In moments of total alacrity, she realized that

she was perhaps a little arrogant and prideful. She didn't mean to be, but that had become her default setting, and if she didn't make a conscious effort not to, she would slip into it like a hand into a glove. She highly doubted Mom and Dad would miss her, but there was always the chance that Lola or Lincoln would pop in to say hi or elect to keep her company. If she sneaked out, she ran the risk of being discovered.

If she stayed, however, she would be all but admitting defeat and allowing the real culprits to evade their rightful justice. Logic told her that if the vandalism continued apace, she would maybe be exonerated. Her alibi - being at home under the close supervision of her parents - would be airtight and she would, possibly, be (quietly) reinstated at school. That should be good enough for her but it wasn't. She didn't want to be allowed back in as though nothing had happened. She wanted to rub Mrs. Wuornos's face in it; she wanted to be the one to prove her innocence.

Go.

No.

Go.

Go.

She got up, crossed to her bed, and sat. Pulling her shoes on, she knotted the laces and got to her feet. She scanned the nightstand for her phone, then remembered that Mom took it away and wouldn't let her have it back until she went back to school. Damn. That left her unable to record video evidence. She scrunched her lips to the side in thought. She could perhaps go into Lola and Lana's room and see if one of them left their phone charging, then take that. In this day and age, however, a missing cellcular phone won't go unnoticed for very long. Knowing that she was on punishment and deprived of her own mobile, they would likely come to her first, rightly assuming that she was responsible. If that happened and they found her gone, they would likely tell Mom and Dad.

An idea occurred to her, and she reflexively snapped her fingers. Eureka.

Going to the door, she eased it open and poked her head into the darkened hall. A crack of light shone under Lincoln's door and blue TV glow drifted up the stairs, along with the swelling sound of dramatic music. Lucy slipped out and tiptoed to the closet

flanking the bathroom, wincing when a floorboard creaked underfoot. She paused, heart racing, and listened. When no alarm went up, she continued.

At the door, she wrapped her fingers around the chilly brass knob, held her breath, and turned it slowly. The hinges shrieked like banshees foretelling the death of an Irishman (Lucy had never been more thankful her ancestors were French). She cringed and waited for Mom or Dad to come out and find her, but they didn't, and she pulled the door the rest of the way. Coats hung from the rack like mob rats from meat hooks and shoes lined the back wall. Cardboard boxes, plastic totes, and other miscellania were heaped on a high shelf. She surveyed it, saw the old Polaroid camera, and pushed up on the tips of her toes to reach it. She grabbed it, and a box next to it started to tip. Her heart rocketed into her throat and she shot one arm out, catching it just before it dropped.

Swallowing thickly, she pushed it back onto the shelf, pulled the camera down, and looped the strap around her neck. She looked around on the shelf some more and grabbed a flashlight and an empty notebook. They might come in use, too. Lucy backed out of the closet, and shut the door as gently and noiselessly as she could.

The hall stood dark and empty as she made her way back to her room. Inside, she closed the door and looked at the window. She wasn't sure the camera would work without sufficient lighting but it was the best she could do under present circumstances.

Before leaving, she crammed an extra pillow under the blanket and put a black wig on it; the wig came from Lynn - one year they dressed up as each other for Halloween as a joke.

Lucy smiled faintly at the memory. Despite the vast gulf of differences between them, she always got along with Lynn the most, and sometimes she really missed her and the conversations they had after lights out.

Pushing that aside, she put everything to rights, started to walk to the window, grabbed a pen from off of her dresser on the way, put it in her pocket, then went to the window. Climbing onto the wide ledge, she unlocked it and lifted the sash, letting a cold breeze into the room. Sitting with her legs dangling over the side, she gauged the distance between her and the oak tree. Three feet. She could jump that easy, right?

Right?

Her heartbeat picked up and her throat went dry. She was confident in her abilities to read and comprehend complex fiction and to work through most of the toughest mathematical equations her teachers could throw at her, but she was not assured of her physicalities. She was tall, gangly, and though she understood the benefits of fitness, she did not often push her body as she did her mind. She was not frail, but she was not athletic either.

An owl hooted in the night like a bad omen, and the wind strengthened, shaking the boughs and knocking them forlornly together. Her resolve began to crumble and her stomach twisted into nervous knots.

Instead of giving in, she took a deep breath, and, tensing, flung herself at the tree. She landed on one wide branch and started to slip, but wrapped her arms and legs around it like a monkey and held fast, heart knocking sickly.

She stayed where she was for a while, too scared to move lest she plummet to the ground below, then, by degrees, she shimmied to the trunk and climbed down. She dropped the last three feet and landed on her feet; she stumbled, pitched forward, and fell to her knees.

Her heart throbbed and her stomach rolled.

But she made it.

Painting, she struggled to her feet and set off.

Behind her house, now, Lucy ran to the end of the backyard, making sure to be light on her feet as not to cause too much noise. She jumped one, twice, and on her third time, grabbed the top of her fence and hoisted herself over, landing on the other side, faltering, and almost sliding in a patch of mud. Luckily, Lucy retained her purchase and kept her footing on the ground. She again broke into a run again and started away from her house.

The Michigan night was cool, and already, Lucy was regretting not thinking to wear a jacket. She had been too caught up in internal turmoil decided whether or not to even leave the house to plan very far ahead. For as much as she hated the cold, though, the air was easier to breathe - silver mercury down her lungs.

Behind her house was a lightly wooded area that eventually came out into a field. The grass was wet and some blades clung to her shoes. Moonlight lit the way and Lucy moved quickly in the night.

The school was about a twenty minute walk from her house but would be quicker because she was running and taking a shortcut. Usually, when she walked to Royal Woods High, she did so using the sidewalks, but occasionally she went around her backyard and used the path that she was presently taking through the field.

Soon enough, the field came to a sidewalk and Lucy slowed down a bit. She didn't very often care about how others perceived her - she assumed most of the students at the school who saw her in passing to think of her as a social outcast, when the opposite was true - but if the wrong person saw a young highschool girl running in the middle to the night, she'd run the risk of getting the police called on her or otherwise getting in some sort of trouble.

She thought about what she'd do when she got to the school. Lucy would have to find a position nearby and watch the front of the building, hidden. Then again, what if it was attacked from the back? RRH was a fairly large building; she couldn't watch all sides at once. If Lucy had some help, she could position friends around the building to get a complete watch of it. Unfortunately, she was alone, and had to do the best she could by working with just herself. Lucy didn't mind working independently (she often asked teachers if it was okay for her to do group projects by herself, lest she be paired with incompetent students that elected to do nothing and force Lucy to carry the entire team just to get a decent grade), but in this case, it would have been advantageous to be working with others. Oh well. Her team of one would have to suffice.

It wasn't much longer until the school came into her distance. Street lamps give off a dim, orange glow, lighting the way. Lights mounted to the build lit up the entrances. Good. There weren't many dark spots around, but she suspected if any students came along with ill intentions, they'd stick to the shadows.

Not wanting to go near the school and be caught on camera again (Lucy was banned from coming on the property until her suspencion was over), she briefly considered where to hide out until she settled on some spot on top of the hill overlooking the parking lot of the building. Sticking to the darkness, Lucy made her way up the hill and found came upon a large tree. She looked up at it, intimidated, before deciding it was the best spot for her to stake out the delinquents should they come, and took in a deep breath. She'd have to climb it.

Mustering her resolve, she jumped up and grabbed the lowest branch she saw and began to hoist herself up. Her arms began to tremble and she wondered, not for the first time, why she didn't devote more time to working out. Occasionally, she would lift Lynn's old weights, but it wasn't ever long before she grew board of tired of it than stop. Working out would build as much character as it would build muscle and Lucy decided right then and there to set more time aside for it in the future.

But that was a problem for later. Right now, she was struggling to climb even one branch. Lucy thought back again to why she was doing this. She thought of the injustice she faced. A two month suspension from the school without any real evidence. Lost respect and trust from her mother and family. The disbanding of her literature club.

The last one stung the worst. For Lucy, finding acceptance in the social scene wasn't a rare occurrence. She tried not to let it get to her, and often she was successful in this regard, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder how much better things would be for her if she was more normal. If she didn't dress in so much black, if she didn't use to many big words that people didn't understand, if she didn't spend so much time alone or sitting in the corner of a classroom with her nose in a book. She liked who she was as a person, but there was something perpetually desirable about being liked and being social.

When she founded the literature club at her school, Lucy found a whole array of like minded people at her school previously hidden to her. She had made some real, genuine friends whilst bonding over books. She connected on a deep level with these peers and enjoyed spending time with them. Lucy looked forward to their meetings. She awaited the moment where she could once again spend time with the colorful characters in the club and discuss the previous week's reading.

And it was taken away from her. Taken away by the likes of Wuornos and Berdella, the incompetent bastards that they were. Even though they were total morons, Lucy suspected that they didn't really believe she was responsible for the egging. The didn't care, thought - their only priority was looking good to their higher ups, finding any culprit to the crime that they could rather than coming up empty handed because they were too stupid to run a proper investigation.

With her newfound rage and passion for correcting her situation galvanizing her, Lucy brought herself to the top of the branch with remarkable speed. She secured her footing and stood, then reached up for the next branch, climbed it, and continued this process. She worked like a well oiled machine, as if she'd been climbing trees regularly

since her early childhood. Lana and Lynn would be impressed.

About halfway up, she noticed a nice flat area atop of a large branch, threw her legs over, and sat on top of it. From her position, she was afforded a good view of the front of the school and a decent one of the left side. Now, it was time to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

If there was one thing Lucy hated, it was wasting time. She made sure to be involved in as much as she could reasonably handle. In just the past couple of years alone, Lucy had been or was still in countless groups, clubs, and events. Musical lessons, sports, online writing activities… she never liked the idea of having narrow interests. And with all of these activities, she didn't often find herself with much free time. And when she did, the idea of spending it playing video games or wasting time in any way never sat well with Lucy. She used it to read, write, do work around the house, and maybe even work out a little. If she went to bed tired, she went to bed happy and fulfilled.

And sitting alone on a tree branch in the silence and darkness reminded Lucy of why she hated wasting time. She could almost hear the seconds going by. Tick. Tick. Tick. Time was the one thing in life that you could never get back.

She smiled as she remembered that she had not forgotten to bring a notepad, and reached in her pocket and pulled it out. it was small, but it would suffice. She decided to devote some time to her favorite craft and write a poem. Lucy had been feeling a great deal of anger and grief over the past couple of days due to her unjust suspension, and she bottled up these feelings and used them to write. It was cathartic.

And my diseased soul screams,

will you be the walker of my shadows?

Delight me with sinister sin,

our funeral of Euphoria,

will break Satan's black heart.

She looked at her work, and realized it was a bit dark even for her. In the dark, Lucy smiled.