Monday started out normally. Libby seemed to have either forgotten about yesterday afternoon, or was pretending to forget about it, but when I met her at the bus stop, she was all smiles just like she usually was. Maybe she sensed that I had lied to her for a reason, and that it was important. She's cool like that; giving people space at just the right time. I knew I'd be hearing about my hang-up sooner or later, but for right now, it wasn't an issue.

We got on the bus and sat down next to each other near the back. It lurched to a stop again outside Jimmy's, and he and Carl boarded. They sad across the aisle from us, making small talk. Jimmy's hair was different than usual— the first odd thing that happened that day. His usual whippy-dip style looked as though it was melting, this signature curl had lost its lustre and was hanging down in front of his forehead. He kept brushing it out of the way of his eyes, and I gave him the 'what the heck?' look. He smiled.

"I ran out of hairspray," he explained.

"You should do that more often," Libby commented, glancing out the window. "It doesn't look half bad." I had to agree (in a completely non-gay way, of course). It reminded me of the hairstyle his future self had had when we went to the future that one time with his Chronoarch.

I noticed Libby was still staring out the window, and that the bus hadn't started moving yet. I looked passed her out the window myself, and saw Cindy trudging down the sidewalk to the bus slowly. The driver honked the horn and she boarded.

The bus started while she was still standing, and she grabbed hold of the edge of a seat to stop from falling as the bus lurched again. She apologised to the boy who was in said seat— Oleander, as it just so happened. She made her way to the back of the bus and took a seat in the empty place in front of Libby and I. I noticed that her hair was back in her signature style, a high ponytail that curled slightly to one side. I also noticed that she was still wearing long sleeves to cover the bruises. The lump in my throat returned.

"—so I need you guys over tonight to test it," I heard Jimmy say, snapping me out of it. I had no clue about what he wanted us to test this time, but it was probably something important, so I nodded in agreement.

Morning classes were ordinary and uneventful. Cindy, Libby and Jimmy weren't in any of my morning classes. The only class all five of us shared was past period PE, and only because Jimmy hadn't been able to find a way out of it. Carl was in all my classes except math (I had gotten a seventy-one in math last year, and they decided to put me in academic rather than applied, like Carl. The seventy-one was my first ever, excluding the one hundred I got on that test when I was a genius, and I was very proud of it. Apparently I'd had the capacity to do well all along, and as soon as I started the new ADHD meds I'm on, my school work dramatically improved, though I'm still basically an idiot.), but he never talks very much because he's always like, "Trying to concentrate! Shut up, Sheen!"

At lunch, Libby put her tray down next to mine. I was sitting across from Carl and Jimmy at our usual table. Libby usually sits with the popular kids (and therefore I have to, too) but Mondays are 'sit with the guys' days. She smiled and started eating her pizza, listening to our conversation.

I wasn't really listening to what Carl was saying. I saw Cindy across the cafeteria, standing all by herself, looking lost. She was holding her metal lunch tray in her hands, and looking around for a place to sit. She looked like she was seriously considering sitting at Nick's table. Well, I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Hey! Cindy! Over here!" I beckoned to her, and she gratefully took the out I'd given her, carefully making her was across the room towards us.

"Sheen, what'd you do that for?" Jimmy hissed, and Libby nodded.

"She was all by herself—" Cindy reached our table and gently put her tray down next to mine. Without looking at Jimmy or Libby, she sat down on my left and put her hands in her lap. Libby and Jimmy looked at each other with mirroring mildly angry expressions, while Carl just looked uncomfortable.

An uncomfortable silence overtook our table. No one said a work. Cindy meekly ate her lunch, while Carl scarfed his down like there'd be no tomorrow. Finally, Libby broke the silence.

"So there's a Pep Rally today, huh?" I looked over at her, surprised.

"There is?"

"Yeah, it was on the announcements."

Pep Rallies are regular occurrences. Usually after school, though sometimes before or during, they were like mini-assemblies held by the student council to 'perk up the school day and deliver important messages'. In other words, the council would talk to us about a bunch of lame crap (school spirit, rah-rah!) while the teachers did whatever teachers do in the teachers' lounge when they're not teaching.

"Oh."

The silence resumed, until it was once again broken, this time by Carl. "Uh, guys, everyone's leaving to go to the Rally." He was right, of course. Everyone was tossing their garbage and leaving the lunch room. I glanced out the large windows at the back of the room. I could see the council setting up the port-a-stage at the back of the football field (the side that backed onto Main Street), and many kids already either standing around it or sitting on the stands.

"Pep-time," Libby declared sarcastically, pushing her half-finished lunch towards Carl. He polished it off in half a second and tossed the garbage for her, while I collected everyone's trays and put them atop the large pile already formed by the door. Our small group of five headed out the door to the courtyard, and from there to the football field. I trailed behind the other three with Cindy, watching her carefully. Though a little more withdrawn than she normally would be, she looked almost... normal. Hair bounced as she walked, her eyes were just as green as they normally were, she had the usual half-scowl on her face, covering up whatever she was really feeling.

We joined the mosh-pit of sorts that had formed in front of the stage. We were bumped and pushed and nudged as we fought our way to the front; well, mostly Carl nudged people out of the way and the four of us followed in his wake. When we got to the front of the stage, I felt my stomach clench into a tight knot.

On the back of the stage, standing and rocking gently back and forth on his skateboard was the son of a bitch who had raped my friend. He had a smug smile on his perfect pretty-boy face, and his lengthy black hair fell into his eyes. He flipped it back without using his hands, which were tucked into his back pockets in a nonchalant way. The girls swooned over him, yet I could not have imagined anyone uglier at that moment.

Also on the stage was the Student Body President and captain of the football team, Michael La Fleur. He was standing off to the side, having his tie straightened by the 'first lady' of sorts, head cheerleader and future Valedictorian, Paula Jefferies. La Fleur is a big guy, muscles bulging under the white collar shirt and tie he was wearing to try and look smart. He wasn't. His 'brains', the only reason he was graduating, belonged to Paula. She did his homework for him. It was obvious. So, of course, the teachers had no idea.

La Fleur cleared his throat and gave Paula a winning smile and a wink before making his way casually to the middle of the stage. He tapped the microphone and it screeched. He cleared his throat again, but this time we heard it because it was amplified and shot out at us from the big speakers set up on either side of the stage.

"Hellloooo Retroville!" he said in a mock-rockstar-like voice. He grinned. "I, Mike La Fleur, your humble and modest Student Body President—" Several whistles rang out across the field. "—have several announcements to make."

La Fleur made several announcements; the football team won again, the Prom's theme was set (Double-Oh-Seven, black-tie, James Bond-themed), the science lab would be reopening under the condition that Jimmy was no longer allowed inside, the breakout of mono was now under control... blah blah blah.

I drifted, paying more attention to Nick. He was still smiling smugly, rocking back and forth on his stupid skateboard. He's shift his weight to one foot so the board rolled a little to the left, then shifted it onto the other foot so it would roll the other way. He never moved more than a few inches to each side; perhaps he was trying to see how many times he could do it before he accidently crossed the little line on the floor of where the port-a-stage where the panels fit together.

I snapped back to attention when La Fleur started to talk about the upcoming charity car wash, raising money for the 'aftermath fund'. He then proceeded to tell us what the fund was for.

"...In the instance of flood, fire, wind, drought, alien attack, superhero rampage, shrinking accident or girl-eating plant, the town will have enough dough to replace whatever has been destroyed by either natural disaster or Neutron and co.."

I could feel eyes on the back of my head. Neutron and co.. Oh, of course, blame it all on Jimmy and his friends. Most of the time the disastrous things that tend to affect Retroville aren't even our fault! Well... more like half, but still.

"And last but not least—" Thank God, I thought, sighing internally. These things always lasted far too long. "The Virginity Pledge!" He made a bow, and waved his girlfriend onto the stage. Paula gave a little wave to the crowd, then held up the laminated pledge, which was rolled up like a sacred scroll. She adjusted the microphone so it was in front of her mouth instead of high above her head.

"Hi Retroville High!" she said perkily, her blonde curly hair bouncing a little. She was, of course, wearing her cheerleading uniform. The rest of the squad cheered happily as their leader smiled cordially. "This is this year's Virginity Pledge. As all of you know, every year since RVH was founded the seniors have made a pledge and gotten all the current virgins to sign it, promising that they will stay innocent for the rest of the year."

La Fleur nodded and leaned over to talk into the now much-too-short mic. "I am very happy to announce that this year, over three hundred students signed the pledge!" The crowd cheered, and I scowled. Yes, we live in Texas. Yes, being a virgin until you're married is a big thing here. But honestly, do we need to advertise it? There were only about three hundred and fifty kids at our school. Most people had signed the pledge, obviously, including myself.

"Oh, now, don't brag," Paula said, playfully pushing him in the chest. He feigned a hurt expression as she stole the mic back. "Just because this is one of the best numbers ever..." She grinned. "Way to go, Retroville!" I saw Jimmy roll his eyes. I could relate. The whole thing felt set-up and forced.

La Fleur grabbed the mic and removed it from it's stand, suddenly serious. "We take the pledge very seriously here at Retroville High," he said, his tone of voice proud. "And it seems as though some of our youngest pledges might have..." He lowered his voice. "Broken their promise."

There were several exaggerated gasps from the cheerleading squad. I suddenly felt even sicker to my stomach. He wouldn't dare.

La Fleur glanced over at Nick, who gave him two thumbs up. I looked over at Cindy. She had a shocked and slightly devastated look on her face. Our eyes met, and I silently begged her with my eyes to leave before he said it. She straightened her back and shook her head. She was trying to be strong, but we both knew what was coming.

"Go," I whispered, "You don't want to be here when—" She shook her head again.

"I give fair warning to others who wish to break the pledge." He paused for effect. "This could happen to you." I wanted to turn and run; drag Cindy with me. Yet I could not look away was Paula unrolled the scroll that was the official pledge. La Fleur ran his index finger down the list, and stopped at one name several inches from the top. Keeping his finger on that name, he took out his lighter.

"Betty Quinlan," he declared, flicking his thumb over the lighter and igniting the flame. He held it up to the plastic-covered paper. Several people gasped as he proceeded to hold the lighter up to her name, and we all watched in either horror or admiration as he burned her name off the list. "You are no longer part of the pledge."

I looked around for the poor girl. She was nowhere to be seen.

He took his thumb off the lighter and the flame went out, leaving the acrid smell of melted plastic hanging in the air. "One down," said Paula sadly, shaking her head. "Shame on you." La Fleur once again began to run his index finger down the list. My heart began to beat rapidly, and it felt as though it was in my throat. I willed him to stop and think about what he was doing with my brain; he either didn't hear me, or didn't listen.

"Aaaaaand, Cindy Vortex!" He lit the lighter again. There was utter silence for half a second as the words set in. Then the uproar began.

There was a chorus of, 'what!'s and 'no way!'s and gasps and shrieks of surprise. The only ones who were silent were the people on the stage, myself and Cindy. She stared blankly ahead, her expression unreadable as she watched her own signature turn black and disappear.

"What does he think he's doing?!" I heard Jimmy say from beside me. "Of course Cindy's a—" He paused, then looked over at Cindy. "Why aren't you stopping him?!"

I tuned him about as I heard another sound. Laughing. Someone was laughing. And I knew who. His evil mud-coloured eyes smiled and crinkled in the corners as he chuckled, still rocking back and forth on his stupid skateboard.

"What are you laughing at?!" I heard my voice say, without me telling my brain to say it. The next thing I know, I've hopped up on the stage and was storming towards Nick, my fists clenched tightly by my sides. His smile faltered, then resumed ten-fold.

"What you gonna do about it?" he asked smugly, that insufferable grin still gracing his ugly mug. I drew back my hands my fists unfurling. "Thought so."

The next ten seconds seemed to happen in slow motion and without sound. My hands were flung towards Nick, palms out, almost of their own accord. They made contact with his shirt. I shoved him in the chest, hard. He fell off his skateboard and the stage, his arms flailing in surprise. He fell into the red curtain that was set up behind the stage and pulled it down with him. It was torn off the rod it was being held up on from left to right, pulled down to the ground below. Time resumed at it's normal pace, and so did the sound.

Breaks squealing.

Nick screaming.

And a horrible, painful sounding crunch.