"Fear; it keeps us safe, keeps us (You've already said 'keeps us', no need to repeat) wise, and above all, it shapes who we are and will be." What wisdom is gained from fear? It keeps us ignorant and stupid, like sheep in flight from a harmless pup.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that Mrs. Rhodes would decide to spring our peer reviews upon us a day early. However, the mere fact that Marie was not in class was enough to upset my appetite.

It wasn't that I was unprepared; no, I'm always prepared. I knew this would eventually happen, and I'd chosen the only suitable person in the class to read my paper. It was entirely my fault that I'd decided to delve deeply into the subject matter of the essay. Marie wouldn't have cared. She knew more about me than I would have preferred. No, it had to be my luck that Little Red was my option on that day.

He was a scrawny kid, in any way you look at him. Insignificant. I suppose even he knew this, considering his subject for our essays. His red cap hid his orange hair, whilst the brim hid his eyes. I suppose, in fear, one learns how much their eyes give away. Thus, I believe he does this on purpose. As for the rest of him...pallid, freckled, with soft features and a sweater vest. How cliché. Black cargo pants, a navy green vest, and white sleeves to his elbows. Of course, you must add in the squeaky sneakers for added aggravation. I'm not certain who chose his shoes, but he should have given them an earful.

I left him with a threat. Or, well, a statement, laced with the power I knew I held over him, simply by being who I am. Fear, it truly is something to behold. Even if the reasons for the fear are but naïve assumptions, I shan't tell him a thing. With any luck, he won't pry, either.

I would definitely need to have a word with Marie. Sure, she'll shrug it off. I'd find her right now, vent my frustrations, but I'd rather not taste the bitter air, or waft the stale aroma she now must exude. I can't fault her for where she lives, her parents, her upbringing, but she knows what those things will do to her health. That she has a cough at this age truly concerns me, but what am I to do? She is my friend. Friends 'understand' each other. Agreement, however, is another matter entirely. Would that I could rid her of those toxic things; especially considering her cut class cost me, well...perhaps nothing, but I'd have preferred Little Red not learn what he had.

I'm still not sure if it was good, or bad, for me to choose him. On the one hand, no one else would have been able to comprehend my writing. On the other, that means I believe he could. I also knew he was the one person in the classroom who could keep his mouth shut, and his essay on Fear seemed to show that I was correct. However, that gleam in his eyes, when he looked up at me, I fear he was a bit more inquisitive than I would have liked.

I can only hope he does not press, as I am by all means a private person. I've my faults, my genius, and little else. I've no need for some naïve child to pry into my life.

Every day that passes is another day, worth little but for what happens. One day, perhaps, it'll be gone, and I can only hope I'll have done something worth remembering. For now, I'll simply go home, read, and sleep, with no dream. Perhaps I'll be lucky, and there will be a message waiting for me on the answering machine. Possibly a rock will tick against my window pane, and Marie will give some purpose to my evening.

It hurts, but for now, things are stable. And I exist. The books let me escape, and I've quite a supply of them, despite Marie's valiant attempts to 'save me' from their hold.

In the silence, as I walk, I can't help but to think back upon his essay. Fear. What do I know of fear? I suppose as much as anyone else, but pain overrides fear. Pain shapes and molds, pain can break and save and shatter. What have I to fear when the pain comes unbidden? To be afraid would be hopeless, and I accept this. This is who I am, what will happen, and how it'll hurt, and it always shall be.

When pain and fear become one...Marie would never allow it. I should be thankful. But sometimes, I wish I could let myself be afraid again. No matter how dark it gets...

Perhaps, one day, it'll allow me to see the light.

Perhaps.

Rather than a tick on my window, which was open to the sun-tinged breeze, I caught the scent of smoke on the wind. Bitter, familiar smoke. I sighed, placing a paper betwixt my pages, and rose from my seat. I descended the stairs long before I heard the knock. I readied myself, posture drawn tight and proper, and opened the door a crack. I slid out the door before she even noticed my presence, as focused as she was upon her 'smoke.'

I saw the surprise in her eyes, and got a faint bit of amusement from it. No matter that she knew how silent I was, she was never prepared for me to slip into existence. I suppose no one is, not even myself.

She flicked her cigarette lightly with her long fingers, ashes falling upon the back stoop. At least she was polite enough not to come in the front door, not that I'd have let her in smelling like that. Father would have my head. No, she knew the ritual, and knew to think before she spoke. At least, when I appeared upset. And I daresay I was a bit miffed from prior, with the unpleasant advent of English class.

Her head tilted minutely, her lip snarling, before she spoke, "What's got you all pissed-off, black-eyes?"

My eyes closed and opened mirthlessly, the slow blink answering her decided 'nickname.' Ever since I began to wear eyeliner, she had decided that would be my beck and call, no matter how much distaste I held for it. My eyes were blue, and the black merely accentuated them. Once, Marie had told me they were like frostbite. I liked that, and I like little. And so, I gave them the gift of emphasis.

"You should be aware, Marie, as I suppose you would note your own lack of presence, now wouldn't you?" Where-as anyone else might have cowered at the ice in my voice, my friend Marie merely rolled her eyes. And I did not mind. Being feared can grow wearisome. Though her complete complacency in my presence was noted, and, at times, frustrating.

"Oh...OH, that! Yeah, Lee was pretty upset. She thought she saw Sarah give Eddy a kiss, I called bull, and she started down that whole 'dark path' bullshit..." I rolled my eyes. Lee was quite a drama queen; so frail of heart, despite its longings. "So me and May snuck out for a smoke and dragged her out of class for a bit. Why are you bringing it up, though? Did something happen?"

I bit my cheek to keep back a snarky remark, "Mrs. Rhodes decided we would review each other's papers today."

Her mouth went into an 'o' shape, and her shock was not flattering at all to her figure. She could be beautiful, but she chose to wear baggy clothes, no make-up, the lazy way out. I couldn't fault her; with where she lived, she could afford little. And she had no interest in impressing the 'boys' at school. The only thing that truly stood out about her was her hair. An appealing bob cut, with sable hair...but the hair that framed her face was dyed a rich, navy blue. I found it endearing. Most found it a reason to call her a 'freak.' And when they noticed I'd heard them, they would go mysteriously silent. How queer.

She finally spoke up, having taken sort of her thoughts, apparently.

"...What did you write about?"

My eyes rolled the slightest, "Pain."

A frustrated groan, "Eugh, Edd..." My lip twitched, but she continued, "You know better. This was bound to happen, but you wrote about that? Who read it?"

My answer was quick, "Little Red."

She blew upwards in a sigh, leaning her head back, arms crossed. The cigarette had ceased burning, but the unpleasant scent lingered. I tried my best to ignore it.

"Yeah, of course you'd choose him...what were you thinking, Eddward?"

I snapped back, "That my 'friend' would be present in class this fine day. A failed assumption, it appears."

"Yeah, but not my fault you wrote," her hand went up to her face, gripping her forehead, "Look, how bad was it?"

"I've it in my room. If you'd like, I can retrieve it for you."

"No, just...fuck, Eddward. You scared him, right? He's not gonna blab?"

My gaze remained coolly upon her, "There was little he could 'blab' about in the first place. Besides, his own essay gave me plenty to stay his tongue."

"Like?" Her hands rested on her hips.

"I don't know, Marie. Unfortunate you weren't present in class today to peruse it yourself."

She grunted, "Fuck off, black-eyes. 'Least I don't write about my deepest fucking thoughts."

"You've not much to write of in comparison to me."

"Yeah, you're dark and brooding with a life that's so sad..."

My eyes pierced her, and she bit her lip, looking off to the side.

"Just...I can't always be there for you, you know that, right? You gotta stop doing this. Write it for me alone, not for class. I worry about you, Eddward. I do care, even if you don't believe me."

I believe you, Marie.

"So...seriously though, what did Red write about?"

"Nothing I'd care to share."

"Bull-shit," she shoved my chest with her cigarette-free hand, the only person who could do such a thing to me and not regret it, "I know it was something, so just tell me already you sadist."

The tiniest smile, more a line than anything else, flickered across my lips.

"Fear."

"Fear?"

I nodded imperceptibly.

"Well...that's weird. Who woulda thought the kid would be as stupid as you?"

The smile could, perhaps, be noted as one now.

"My thoughts exactly, Marie."

She smiled, and it was lovely to see. I was perhaps one of the few she permitted see it. It was a favor returned for her seeing my own, I suppose. Though few could make me smile, as it is, so I've little need to hide it.

"You gotta tell me about it. Come on, we can sit on the bench, my legs hurt from standing so long."

I rolled my eyes at her comment, but walked behind her anyways. My heels sank into the grass, but such was life. There was so much in life to fear these days.

A little dirt was nothing.