Shannon couldn't imagine a more awkward car ride. Mallory had plopped in, her arms full of receipts for the insurance that she had put on her packages, and had promptly begun to flip through Shannon's preset radio stations. This was a pet peeve of Shannon's, as she always believed that the driver should be in control of what everyone else was listening to. Once she had found a station, Mallory had turned the volume down and had begun to shoot questions at her.

"So how do you feel about he BSC officially disbanding?" Mallory asked as she rooted through her bag.

"Well…okay, I guess. It doesn't really affect me much. I haven't officially been a member in years. I mean, it was really only a matter of time, right?"

"Exactly. High school must be so busy, huh?"

Shannon raised her eyebrows. "It's not really that different. I've always been super involved in things, so it hasn't really changed that much for me."

"Do you miss babysitting at all?"

Shannon was beginning to wonder about all of the questions. The last thing she had thought as she had agreed to give Mallory a ride is that she would ask questions the whole way to school. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

"Well, I babysit some of the kids in the neighborhood sometimes, but most of them are older now and stay home by themselves after school. Or they go over to a friend's house. I know that Kristy's family goes over to the Papadakises a lot; they have some sort of arrangement."

Mallory was silent, and Shannon began to think that she was done with all of the questioning. But then she questioned, "So what's with you and Sam Thomas? You two have been together for a while, right?"

Normally, with any other person, Shannon would gush about Sam. Ever since he had gone to rehab and worked out his issues, he'd become one of the people who knew her the best. But this was not a subject she wanted to speak to Mallory Pike about. "Yes, we have. It's been a while." She quickly turned the corner and prayed that she wouldn't hit any red lights.

Mallory fiddled with her fringed backpack (My Lord, thought Shannon, where does she find these things? I know she wanted to dress more grown up for all these years, but she's committing more faux pas than when Claudia used to bake dough into earrings!) and groaned loudly. "Ugh, I am so sick of school. I can't wait to be done and just become a writer. I mean, I don't even need half of the stuff we're working on in there to do what I want to do."

Shannon tried to avoid rolling her eyes. "Oh yeah? And what would you change if you could?"

"Well, gym is terrible. There's no point in me even participating. I'm never going to be good a volleyball. And math? Come on! Like any writer is ever going to use math."

"Well gee, Mal, how will you be able to check your finances after all of your big book advances?" Shannon hadn't meant to be sarcastic, but the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Please, that's what I'll have an accountant for. Maybe I can hire Stacey!"

Shannon couldn't remember feeling this miserable in a long time. She began to bargain with herself: if Mal shuts up, she wouldn't turn the radio any louder. If Mal doesn't mention the BSC again, she'll let herself splurge on an ice cream. Anything would help her get through to car ride.

"So I'm working on a new project!" Mal said excitedly. "Want to hear about it?"

Shannon breathed a sigh of relief when she realized they were in front of the school. "I'd love to, Mal, but I have to head back to my school. I'll catch up with you another time, okay?"

"Sure! Call me! Here, give me your number!" she said excitedly, whipping out her sticker covered cell phone. Shannon couldn't believe how many things Mal owned that had her name on them. This was worse than putting your name in your clothes at camp.

Shannon quickly gave Mal her number, contemplating if she should give her a fake. No, she reasoned, I can always dodge her calls.

"Bye, Shannon!" Mal called over her shoulder as she ran into the building. As soon as Shannon began to head to school, she could feel a sense of ease washing over her. Man, I'm glad I don't have to see her often, she thought as she drove away.

Shannon hoped that was the last that she would see of her new BFF Mallory Pike for quite some time. But of course, Mal always had a way of showing up where she wasn't invited. Hopefully, I can keep avoiding her for as long as possible. After all, it was just a car ride. It was a nice thing to do. So now, Mal should have had her fill of me for quite some time.

She didn't even see Mallory writing down her license plate number or scribbling in her notebook as she left. Mal smiled widely as she stuck a small plastic bag into her pocket, amazed at what a short car ride with Shannon Kilbourne could turn up. My life has never been better, Mal thought to herself.

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"Is there any possible way you can speed up?" Stacey shouted at the cab driver, who smiled at her apologetically.

"I wish there was something I could do, miss. But the street is blocked all the way down because of the situation this morning. Is it an emergency?"

Stacey didn't even bother to reply. "I'll walk!" she cried, throwing a handful of cash at the cabbie. She grabbed her bag and bolted, not even caring that she was running down a busy street in her pajamas.

"Good luck, miss!" the driver called to her from the window.

With her feet throbbing from the shoes she had thrown on, Stacey continued to race down the street, bumping into people and not apologizing. Her dad was sick, or hurt, she didn't know, and she had to get to him as soon as possible. It's probably a heart attack. He works so hard, and for what? To let me go out all the time? I barely see him.

As she finally pushed through the doors at the hospital, she rushed the admissions desk. "I'm Stacey McGill…my dad…I mean…I need to talk to someone about him. A nurse called…I think her name was Carol?"

"Carolyn? That's me, honey," a friendly looking woman said. "How are you?"

Stacey wanted to get past the pleasantries. "How's my dad? What happened?"

"Sweetie, I'm going to need you to sit in those chairs over there while I page a doctor for you. I can't give you any information about his condition. Frankly, I don't know what happened, so I'm going to leave you in the hands of someone who does." She guided Stacey by the arm to a bank of chairs and gestured for her to sit down. "Honey, the doctor will be here as soon as possible, okay?"

Stacey felt numb. She just wanted to know if her dad was okay. And then she wanted to go back to sleep for a few days. She sat back in her chair and flipped through a copy of Highlights, not even bothering to try and solve the picture puzzle.

"You okay?" a guy sitting next to her asked. Stacey turned to look at him. He was cute, she mused, and she would have liked to talk to him on any other day but today. "Yep," she replied, and buried her head back into her magazine, pretending to be entranced by the science experience and make-your-own birdhouse.

"I'm Keith," he said, holding out his hand.

"Stacey," she replied, again trying to ignore him as much as possible.

"So why are you here, Stacey?" he asked softly.

"Is it possible that you could leave me alone?" she snapped. "My dad's here, and I don't know what's going on. I just…I need to be alone for a while."

Keith looked worriedly back at her. "Stacey, I'll get as much information as I can. I'm a grief counselor. I thought a doctor had talked to you already."

Stacey's heart flopped a few times. "You mean…my dad?" As she tried to finish her thought, she could already feel her knees going weak.

Keith got up and walked quickly to the front desk. He spoke quietly to Carolyn, gesturing towards Stacey and looking pointedly in her direction. Carolyn shook her head and looked aggravated.

So this is why everyone's being so nice to me. Every other time I've been to a hospital, no one has paid this much attention to me.

"Stacey?" Carolyn said. "I'm sorry."

"So you knew. You knew this whole time. And you didn't tell me. Why?"

"Honey, look. I can't tell you anything because that's the doctor's job. I wasn't in the surgery ward with him, and I wasn't with your dad when he was brought in. And Keith was trying to help you; that's what he's here for."

"I don't need your help!" Stacey snapped. "Just bring in a doctor and leave me alone!"

Carolyn hurried behind the double doors as Stacey waited for what felt like hours. She could see Keith looking at her worriedly, and she wanted to scream at him. Finally, a doctor sprinted out of the room towards her.

"Miss McGill?" he questioned. "I'm Dr. Kendall."

Great, he can't be more than a resident, Stacey thought to herself.

"Miss McGill, your father was in a serious accident this morning. I don't know if you've seen the news or not, but your his building was bombed this morning."

"What…what are you trying to tell me?" She looked around and noticed what she had blocked out before: the waiting room was packed.

"All we know right now, Miss McGill, is that a truck carrying explosives was detonated in the parking lot of your father's building. We don't know what happened or how or why, but I can tell you this: your father died a hero. He probably would have survived if he had left the building immediately, but he went back in for his officemate."

"A hero?" Stacey couldn't even comprehend the brevity of the situation. She could just hear the words come out of the doctor's mouth and repeat them back to him.

"Yes. His friend Tim was struck by a falling piece of the ceiling after the explosion happened. Your dad was halfway down the stairs and went back for him. He managed to drag Tim out of the building, but not before a second series of explosions went off. Your father was severely burned, but he was able to get Tim out alright."

"How's Tim?"

"He has a broken back. We're not sure if he'll survive, either, to be completely honest. But your dad did a noble action, Miss McGill."

"Please, call me Stacey. Was anyone with him when he…you know…"

"I was here at the hospital with him. I tried to do everything I could, but it was already too late. I'll get you in touch with the paramedics who airlifted him over here."

"Did he say anything? Anything about me?"

"No, Stacey. He was unconscious. He died bravely and dignified, without any pain. I made sure that he was comfortable. I try to extend that courtesy to all of my patients who pass on."

Stacey surveyed the scene around her. Families were weeping, and the news was blaring non-stop covered about the bombing. How had she missed this? "Was this terrorist activity?" she questioned.

"Right now…we really don't know. Stacey, I hate to cut you off, but I have to get back to my patients. Hundreds of people in the building were affected. Please, take my card, and if you have any questions, please call me."

She took it numbly and tried to regain her grasp on reality. It was just too much to take in at once. She ambled slowly towards the desk to speak with Carolyn. "Is it okay if I go home now?" she asked softly. She barely noticed the tears that were beginning to drip off of her face.

"Honey, I hate to put you through this, but someone needs to identify the body. Can you do it, or should we call someone else?"

She couldn't. She absolutely couldn't. She couldn't look at her dad's body and identify it. That would be like admitting that this was real, like it wasn't a terrible dream. Her knees buckled as she slowly sank to the ground, praying quickly that she would wake up shortly.