Thank you all for your reviews. I'm real glad you like my story, and, no, Jesse is not a mediator too, sorry about that. Anyway, hope you enjoy my next chapter. If you read it, that is. If you do read, I really really hope that you will review, because then I will know if my story sucks or not. Thank you!

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"Take only a fingertip amount…" I read out from the list of instructions. "…Pour into aquarium…recommended use: once daily."

My paper and fish penalty has begun. I couldn't start my sentence yesterday because Mr. B. had to have it approved. I'm sure the caretakers were all for it, I mean the part about the fish. They still get paid the same.

Let me tell you though, the campus has a lot of fish. I got back to my dorm at two, realized that I didn't finish my assignment, the one due the next day, worth only about, oh, ten percent of my mark, and sat down to work. I finished at five, went to sleep at five thirty, and Dana woke me up at six, said there was some meeting we had to go to.

She had to drag me all the way there. It was about some sort of contest, do this do that kind of contest.

Also, if you're wondering, the time before the fish feeding was spent paper organizing. The papers were mostly just a bunch of student profiles. I had to organize them all by folders. Put him in yellow folder, put her in blue folder, that type of thing.

So, you could technically say that I didn't really have time before my punishment to finish, or start for that matter, that assignment, and, you could also say that Mr. B. is a total ass. You could, couldn't you? Considering that I also have his class first thing Friday afternoon.

I walk into class. I'm early. Apparently it's also bad to come early. Mr. B. yells at me, says that being early takes time away from the previous class, who, by the way, has already left. Evidently I also distracted him from getting ready for today's lesson. He gives me another week's punishment. I take a seat and put my book out onto the table.

People start coming in. He doesn't say anything to them about being early.

Class starts.

I go to sleep.

Mr. B. calls out my name. He raises his eyebrows quizzically and seems to be waiting for something. The girl beside me whispers, "He wants to know who first developed the stages of mental growth development."

"Albert Einstein," I exclaim, loudly enough for everyone to hear, and go back to sleep.

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"So, are you going to do it?" Dana asks curiously as I walk back into our dorm after psychology, my last class of the day.

"Do what?" I ask, puzzled.

"Participate in the contest," she says as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"What contest?" I ask. Have I been blacking out or something? I don't remember hearing anything about a contest.

"Don't you remember? We went to the meeting early this morning," she replies, looking at me as though I'm mentally unstable.

"Oh," I say, remembering something of the sort. "I…no…I don't think so…" I begin, trying to recall what the contest is about. "…I…um…why do you want to know?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh, no reason," she says shrugging, trying to sound indifferent. "It's just that you can win sixty grand if you get first place," she adds nonchalantly.

"Well then, why are you so eager for me to join as well? Wouldn't my not participating cut off competition for you, you know, increase your chances?" I ask amusedly, opening up a box of yogurt.

"You're my friend," she says with a note of conclusiveness. I take a spoon and begin shoving yogurt into my mouth. She's hiding something. Must investigate further. First priority though is to get some sleep, but even that is hard to come by. I remember that I have paper organizing and fish feeding again, so I trudge, infuriated and drowsy, off to do my duties.

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Saturday. Finally. The day I can finally get some sleep, right? Wrong. At six in the morning Dana hauls me out of bed. She says things like cancer, help, cancer, and forces me to wake up. Is she dying?

I clumsily put on my pants, my shirt, and my shoes, while seeing various shades of blur. Lack of sleep can really get to you.

Before I can even register what is happening, Dana grabs my hand and we fly down the stairs and out the door. She shoves me in her car, turns on the engine, switches into gear, and drives. I close my eyes. They savor the action with delight.

In a few minutes the car comes to a screeching halt, the door flies open, and my body gets flung out the car. I stumble-run after Dana, who is dragging me by my hand, until we near a building. We walk in through the door, past the ribbon-type barrier, and stop. What is this place? What are we doing here?

I have no time to even look around before Dana grabs my hand again and we hurry off, entering a side door down the hall.

We enter what looks like a really big hall filled with things like chairs and tables and instruments and floats and papers. It also contains a whole collection of people bustling about. The main guy tells Dana and me to take all the chairs outside. Being completely clueless as to what I'm even doing here in the first place, I'm left with no choice but to follow his instructions.

As we're busy with the chairs Dana tells me we're here to help organize the Cancer Awareness Parade. She says it's a nice thing to do. Says she's glad we're not late. I'm too tired to say anything; I just figure I'll leave after a few hours. My eyes complain, they threaten to go on strike. I ignore them. After we're done with the chairs we take the tables out, aided by some of the more muscular guys.

After Dana and me run about busily for two hours trying to put everything in place, I open my mouth to ask her for directions back to our dorm, for I now intend to head back, when the main guy says:

"You can find out the booth number you'll be staying in for the day from the papers posted up on the wall," pointing in my direction. Everyone turns his or her head to look at the place he's pointing, including me, to see a wide collection of papers posted up. Dana, who knows fully well the traffic that is about to ensue, feverishly begins writing down her, I presume, number and dashes out of the way.

All the one hundred or so students continue to stare at the papers situated behind me, and, before I even have time to react, all one hundred of them sprint in my direction. They knock me down to the floor; I try to crawl away like a frightened worm, but they're standing over me, pushing each other over in order to see who's in which booth. Gosh, they're just so eager to help, aren't they?

Someone offers me their hand. I reach over to take it. They help me up.

"Thanks," I mutter, but then I see who it is and wish I could crawl back down.

"Oh, it's no problem," Jesse says, looking me over. "You here to help out too?" he asks.

"No," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Uh…right," he replies. I eye him maliciously and stomp off before he can say anything more. I'm hurrying off in the opposite direction when someone grabs my shoulder and whirls me around.

"Suze, we're in different booths," Dana says apologetically.

"You know what, Dana? I think I'm going to…" I begin, wanting to tell her that I won't be staying, when something else catches my attention. "…Wait a minute…booth, how do you know which…is my name…how is my name on that list?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

"Oh," Dana starts off, "I signed you up beforehand," she concludes as though she thinks her thoughtfulness will make me want to jump for joy. Instead of, so to speak, jumping for joy though, I, getting a bit fed up with her, say:

"And you didn't even bother to ask me if I actually wanted to do this?" Hey, I'm not too enthused at the idea of having to stay here for the whole freaking day handing out Cancer papers, not that I'm pro-cancer or anything, I just really wanted to have the Saturday off so I could get some relaxing time. But now it seems that that can't happen as, turns out, surprise surprise, I was signed up, without my knowing, to help with Cancer Awareness, thereby there will be no leaving and no bed visiting.

Although why do I care, really? Signed up or not, I can still leave. What are they going to do to me? Sue me for refusing to volunteer? "I don't think I'll be able to stay, I have things to do," I say contemptuously. For example: sleep.

"Oh, I…I thought it would be a great idea…I thought you'd really enjoy it…I didn't…I didn't think…I'm sorry," she starts babbling under her breath, her head down. I stare at her, crossing my arms. I have every right to be mad at her, I do, and I'm not planning to stay, even if she begs me. I won't do it, no matter what.

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Give paper. Thank. They leave. Give paper. Thank. They leave. Yeah, so what? So I stayed, so sue me. Anyway, Dana is my friend, and friends help each other out, or some such thing, and, well, maybe she was on the verge of tears, but so what? That didn't influence me to stay, really it didn't. I'm just trying to be a supportive and caring friend.

And anyway, we share a dorm together and I don't want her to be all weird around me, and, since I'm going to be spending a lot more time with her in future years that wouldn't really be the way to go, if you know what I mean. I look at it this way, no one's feelings get hurt and I get to be real nice and helpful for a change.

So, as I'm sitting here handing out papers, a familiar voice calls out my name, then says:

"So, what did I miss?" and sits down next to me. I turn to look at, yes, him, and, annoyed, I turn back.

"Nothing really," I say, aggravated, then, getting an idea, continue with, "you know? You might just as well just leave, there's really nothing to miss staying," hoping he will find some inspiration within these words.

"Well, if you seem to think this unworthy of your time, why don't you follow your own advice?" he asks, raising his eyebrows, a smile creeping in at the corner of his mouth. Is he making fun of me?

"I would…" I start saying.

"…If you didn't have to," he finishes for me.

"That's right," I say, smirking evilly. "Why ask when you know the answer?" I ask, giving him a very annoyed look.

"Just trying to initiate conversation," he replies politely, making me even more infuriated.

"Well, you know what? Don't," I say irritably, turning away from him. I usually have a high tolerance for people, real people that is, but there's just something about him that makes me real impatient and highly annoyed with him. I think it might have something to do with the hospital-kick-out and suspicious-questioning thing, though I couldn't be sure.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier, for, uh, questioning you, I really had no business to do so," he begins saying.

"You think?" I scoff.

"I was…I was just curious, I hadn't meant anything by it," he says. I can see he's really trying. I'll give him credit for that, though he's obviously lying. I mean, he was just curious? That's about the bigger bull I've ever heard, people who "are just curious" don't look as if they're about to off you.

"Hmm…right," I say offhandedly. "So, uh, you want me to forgive you because you 'hadn't meant anything by it', right?" I ask him inquiringly, after he doesn't answer I go on, "why don't you go and find some dumb girl to tell that to because there's no way I'm buying it." He looks at me a bit surprised, as though this was something he definitely wasn't expecting, then smiles, one of those big smiles where your teeth, in this case white and straight, show and your eyes crinkle at the edges, and then he starts to laugh. My heart skips a beat and then speeds up. I tell it to shut up.

Is he taking me for a joke? He isn't taking me seriously, as if I'm some eight-year-old, a child, inferior. If I was indifferent before, which, let me tell you, I wasn't, I was definitely enraged now. How dare he treat me like I'm a moron? First, he comes to my dorm uninvited and asks me questions like he has a right to, now he's laughing at me for being pissed off about it. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks he's going to get away with it. I take my water bottle off the table, unscrew the lid, and pour water down his pants and onto his shirt.

"I…what are you doing?" Jesse shouts, taken aback, evaluating his now-wet image. I give him an it-was-coming look.

He looks quite mad now. Excellent.

"I'm knitting a sweater Jesse, what does it look like?" I say, getting up. The lady in front of me gets real frightened and hurries off to the next booth.

"What's this about, Susannah?" he demands heatedly, his eyebrows getting pushed together like magnets. He comes closer until he's standing over me, putting me in shadow.

"It's Suze," I say venomously, sitting back down. I turn to face the other way. I'm not even planning to answer that.

He says something in another other language, Spanish, I think, and sits back down in his chair.

Even though I have no idea what he just said I'm sure it wasn't anything about how glad he is that he had the pleasure of meeting me.

"Don't turn away from me, Susannah, we're not quite done yet," he says, disregarding my remark.

Ignoring him I look up at the sky; so gray. "The sight of you makes me want to gorge my eyes out," I say, mostly to myself.

"Well, I'm not exactly dying to be in your company," he says defensively.

"Well, you're here aren't you?" I say, turning around to look at him.

"What do you mean, here?" he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

"In this booth," I say pointedly.

"That's not by choice, Susannah, I'm sure you're aware of that," he says, though he looks at me questioningly, as though he's not sure.

"Well, I don't see you leaving, and I really hate it when you call me that," I say, turning away from him again.

"Call you what? Susannah? That is your name, isn't it?" He asks. I don't answer. A cloud passes by, gray and fluffy. "Susannah?" he asks again. Silence. I'm trying to tune him out.

Wet Jesse, seeing he won't get me to say anything more, just sits, fuming.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, handing out papers. I can hear the water dripping from his pants down onto the floor. I get the urge to laugh. I stifle it. Pretty soon the water stops its pursuit of the floor and the sun drinks up the rest still clutching Jesse's clothes.

A century passes. I forgot my watch so I have no idea what time it is. I ask a lady passing by. She says it's six. Uh oh. I'm supposed to be at the paper organizing place by seven, otherwise the lady who lets me in leaves and I have no way of getting in there, and, if I'm not there I won't live to see tomorrow and I'll be out frolicking with my ghost friends. That prospect doesn't necessarily give me a warm fuzzy feeling.

I look around. Where's Dana? I stand up, circumvent the booth and go off to search for her. God this place is huge, it will take me hours to find her, and, as is obvious, I don't have hours. I barely have one.

I return to my booth. What about a bus? Do buses go here? Do I have tickets? No for the last one. I have money. Oh, this is hopeless. I ask a fellow booth member if they know of a bus that can take me back.

"First you have to find Persia Avenue, which is right down on the other side of the building, where you take the 23 bus until Roadland Street, get off, cross to the other side, take the 36 bus until Morgan Avenue, get off, walk until Glory Street, turn left, at the next traffic light turn right, at the nearest stop sign turn left, go straight for a while, when you get to Gulper Street turn right, then you'll see a big coffee shop, you can stop and get coffee if you want, they have really amazing coffee, never tried anything like it…" she trails off.

"Um, can we get back to the directions please?" I ask, giving her my most polite look.

"…Oh, yeah, you pass the coffee shop and at the street light you turn right, walk straight, turn left at the corner, and then you just walk straight until the campus comes into view," she says. I write it all down.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome," she says. I set off, find Persia Avenue, wait for ten minutes till the bus comes and get on. As I set foot onto the bus stair I hear thunder sounding behind me. Then the rain follows.

After I get off at Roadland Street I cross the road and wait for the next bus, getting soaked in the process. I climb onto the next bus, after a few minutes get off, and religiously follow nice lady's directions. My paper gets soaked halfway through and I can't read anything it says.

I remember something about a coffee shop. I look around. I don't see a coffee shop anywhere. To tell you the truth, I don't see much of anything. I wonder what time it is.

I remember her mentioning a lot of consequent right and left turns. So, if I had just made a left, I should now turn right. I follow my instincts and make a right at the next street corner. I see the coffee shop. Yes. Now where? Well, since I just did a right, I must now do a left, right?

I turn left, then right, then I walk straight. After a few years of walking I still don't see the campus. I'm getting cold and tired and hungry. They did feed us at the Parade, but not much, and it wasn't really something you'd actually call food.

Maybe I made a wrong turn, I should go back. I look behind me. I don't see anything. Someone calls out my name. I turn to look behind me, no one there. I look up at the sky. Is God trying to tell me something?

I hear a car horn. I look at the road. It's Dana: my savior. I climb into her car.

"Why didn't you go find me? You don't even know how to get back," Dana starts saying. "Suze, what were you thinking? Didn't you see the rain clouds? Thank god the nice gentleman at your booth told me where you had gone," she says. Nice gentleman? I look at the car clock. Shit. It's seven thirty. Have I really been out that long?

"I was getting really nervous, you know? Not knowing where you were, I went back to our dorm, but you weren't there and it was raining, I didn't know where to look…" Dana continues saying to herself.

Damn, the door is probably locked by now…the papers sitting unsorted… I'll just get in real early tomorrow morning to sort them. I'm sure no one will notice.

"…And it was getting real dark, you know? I couldn't see anything, what with the rain…"

Yeah, that's what I'll do. Better late than never, I say.

"…I just decided to follow every route to the campus and hope that I'd find you. I was getting so worried, you were out so long and it's raining…"

With Dana muttering incoherently all through the car ride we finally arrive back at our dorm.

After I take a shower and am fully ready for bed, I look at Dana and say, "thanks for finding me."

"No, it was my fault, I should have gone to see how you were doing, see if you had to get back," she says. "Are you OK?" she asks, looking up at me.

"I think I'll live," I say mockingly. She smiles.

"Well, goodnight then," she says.

"Goodnight," I say back, turning off the lights. I crawl into bed, pull the blankets up over me and close my eyes. They gleefully shoot a box of fireworks to show their appreciation.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it and please REVIEW.