Rachel's eyes snapped open. She had been dreaming about how she had met Jacob Waters four years ago. Now she was seventeen, and it was time for the last dance of the school year. Soon after the day they had met Jacob, Rachel's cousin Bryan had started hanging out at a town called Lorenzo, which was a gang hotspot. Rachel reflected on this as she got up from her bed.

It was only about half an hour until the dance. Rachel went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and under a flood of clothes, was a medallion. It was the medallion she had secretly taken from Jacob. She put the chain around her neck. Mom'll blow her top if she sees the skull on this, Rachel thought. She tucked the medallion under her shirt so the gang sign couldn't be seen. A loud knock thudded from the door. "Rachel, are you up?" came her mother's voice.

"Yes!" Rachel called.

Mrs. Lark walked in. "Hun, you're gonna be late," she said.

"So?" grumbled Rachel. She wasn't entirely happy about going to the dance with Chris Jones.

"Look what I have!" Mrs. Lark said, practically singing. She held up a beautiful, frilly, black dress.

"Mom! It's beautiful!" Rachel exclaimed excitedly. Her smile faded. ". . . it's also too small," she added. "Where'd you get it? 'Mary-Kate Olsen online?'"

"I know," Mrs. Lark sighed. "It was the only one in stock at the boutique. So I got this." Rachel's mother took out a bustier.

"Oh, no," Rachel muttered, staring regretfully at the lingerie of doom.

"It's only for one night," Mrs. Lark said. "I'm sure you'll live." Just then, the doorbell rang. "That's probably Chris. Hurry and get ready." Mrs. Lark went downstairs to answer the door. But she didn't meet Chris. Instead, when she opened the door, she saw Jacob Waters, now seventeen, with long, shaggy, brown hair and deep, chocolate eyes. He was wearing a Domino's uniform and carrying a pizza.

"Hi, Mrs. Lark. That'll be $11.50," Jacob said. "So. . . . is your daughter home?" He always avoided saying Rachel's name, not because he didn't like her, but because he did like her. A lot.

"Which one?"

"The older one."

"Rachel's in her room right now. She'll be right down. C'mon in," Mrs. Lark said, waving him in. Jacob had barely stepped inside and closed the door when Rachel came down the stairs. "Rachel, you look beautiful!" complimented her mother. But Rachel paid no attention. Her thoughts were on Jacob.

"Jacob! It's so good to see you!" she said. "I was just thinking about you." Mrs. Lark shifted uneasily.

"About me?" Jacob said, a bit surprised.

"Yeah," Rachel answered. "I was thinking about the day we met. Do you remember?"

"Can't forget." He smiled nervously and thought, C'mon, Jacob. Now or never. He took in a breath and said, "I was wondering . . . if you're interested . . . and if you don't already have a date

. . . I mean, my shift's over in an hour, so . . . do you think you'd want to go . . . ?"

"She's already going to the dance with Chris," Mrs. Lark jumped in. "I think you should go back to work now, Jacob."

Rachel clenched her teeth, stepped around her mother, and led Jacob outside to the front porch. "Want to go where?" Rachel urged him when they were alone.

Jacob's nervousness had dissolved into disappointment and he shook his head. "Never mind. It's not a big deal."

Mrs. Lark came out of the house locked the door. "Oh, Mom! You're chaperoning?" Rachel groaned in disbelief. Her mother shrugged, got in her car, and left for the highschool. Rachel continued the conversation.

"Jacob, if this is about the dance, I can always –" She was cut off by the sound of squealing tires as Chris sped up the hill in his bright red convertible.

"Hey, Babe! You ready to go?" Chris shouted over "Beverly Hills" by Weezer, which was blasting on the radio. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants, a white tuxedo-print T-shirt, and his black, blue, and white letterman jacket.

"Yeah, Chris. Hang on a minute," Rachel murmured. She turned to Jacob again. "Hi. I'm Rachel," she informed him.

Jacob nodded. "Yes, I've known that for about four years now."

"How many times do I have to tell you my name before you'll get the hint and say it?"

"Only once more. As always."

"Have a good night," Rachel said with an annoyed tone.

Jacob watched her get into Chris's car. It peeled out of the driveway. "Have fun!" Jacob called. He sighed. ". . . Rachel."

At the high school, everyone was having a good time. The gym was a little too crowded, so the latecomers, IE Rachel and Chris, were ushered outside to the school swimming pool. However, the pool deck was actually a little nicer than the gym. It was lit by candles, the moon and stars, and the lights of the football field, across and down the hill. The fence was covered in streamers and balloons. Only a few people were on the pool deck, and two couples were dancing. A stereo was on a table, tuned to the school radio station, so the people outside could listen to the same thing the DJ was playing inside the school. Rachel wished the bustier wasn't so tight. She could barely breathe.

". . .And five thousand," the man said, dropping a tenth five hundred-dollar bill into the kid's hand.

"Thank you," the boy said. "Have fun on that bike." He turned and headed out the door. He was an 18-year-old gangster named Zach "The Viper" de Marco. He had pitch black hair, deviant green eyes, and a smile that would make any girl melt to a puddle. The verdict is: Lock Up Your Daughters. Viper walked by the garage window and said to the man, "Now I remember where I've seen you before! I saw your picture in the dictionary, next to the word 'sucker.' Bye now!" He went down the alley and into the city. The man went over to the motorcycle he had just bought. He put the key in the ignition. It wouldn't start. Then he noticed a tag on the handlebars. In Viper's hand was written:

"You've been had by Viper deMarco!"

Viper was walking through the town and came upon a gas station, where a group of men had parked their motorcycles. The men went inside. Viper smiled, and walked up to the row of bikes. He walked up to a black Chopper. He looked around, making sure no one was watching him, took out his pocket knife, and was about to jab it into the ignition and steal the bike. "Hey, kid!" a voice shouted behind him. He looked back.

"Crap," he whispered, putting his knife away. He turned around, and faced about five men.

"What are you doing, boy?" one of them asked.

"I was just looking at this bike," he said innocently. "I think I've seen it before. I just don't know where." He seemed to think a moment, but what he was really doing was thinking up a plan to take the bike. "Oh, yeah!" he said. "It looks like this bike that a guy whose sister is going out with a brother of one of my friends bought from a guy whose wife's second uncle's brother owns a Harley dealership. He's in this gang called . . . hmm. I'm sure you've heard of it. Uh . . . It's two words. Black . . . something."

"Black Widow?" one of the men asked cautiously.

"Yeah! That's it! The Black Widow," Viper confirmed. He was about to put his plan into action, but the sound of a police car siren stopped him. Viper saw the car heading across the street, and disappearing around the corner. "Well!" he said, shaking the man's hand. "It was wonderful meeting you!" Viper shook the hand that held the key to the bike. As he let go, he took it. (He's a master at pickpocketing.) He walked into an alley, and as soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he took off running.

Gotta find a place to blend in, Viper thought. Then, he saw the sign outside a high school. IT'S THE "LAST DANCE!" SCHOOL'S OUT! "Perfect," he said, with a sly smile.

Viper walked in the school. A man ushered him outside to the pool. "Late comers go here. Sorry, the gym's too crowded," the man said, sounding as if he was tired of saying the phrase all night. The man barely even looked at Viper. He didn't even notice the weapons he was carrying. When he was on the pool deck, Viper walked over to the punch bowl. (Imagine that. There's always someone hanging out by the punch bowl at a school dance.) He was relieved that it was so dark. Maybe no one would recognize him. But being the only person there without a date made him look a little odd. He looked around to find a good victim. And he saw her; a blonde girl in an amazing black dress standing beside the pool. Viper ran his fingers through his hair and was about to go over and meet her. "Dang," He cursed, seeing some jock in a letterman jacket approach her and put his arm around her. He turned around and saw another girl, sitting alone in the corner. "Double dang," he said with a smile, and went over to her.

Chris and Rachel were standing by the pool. "Rae," Chris said. "If we have fun tonight, I was wondering if you'd like to go–" he bent down to tie his shoe. "– to dinner and a movie sometime. Like, a . . . date?"

Rachel was gasping for breath. "I can't breathe!" she whispered.

"Yeah, I understand," said Chris, about to stand up. But Rachel couldn't breathe because of the tightness of the bustier, not because of Chris's question. She fainted and fell into the water.