Thanks for reviewing, I really appreciate it, it must take such effort. I mean, first you have to find the box enclosing the words "submit review" situated at the bottom of the page, then, you have to press Go, then you have to write stuff and press send. It's such a pain, bet it gives you an enormous headache, yet you still do it. For me. It makes me feel all fuzzy and warm inside knowing you care that much. Well, my next chapter is up, hope you enjoy.

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I'm running, running down a corridor I've never seen before, fog devouring my body, gripping my every inch with its powerful translucent hands, so thick I can hardly see in front of me. It's hard to breath. Why am I running? There's nowhere to go.

All around me are doors. No windows. Looking up there is only dark sky, twinkling stars, looking down there is no floor, only blankets of fog encircling my feet.

Doors stretch infinitely in both directions. How do I get out of here?

I feel a tugging at my feet. I stop, watching in horror as the fog beneath my feet opens up to reveal a dark swirling opening. I start to run again, but I don't seem to be moving, I'm motionless. I flail my arms, trying to grab on to something, but there is nothing, and I fall.

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I awake with a jolt, gasp in a lungful of air, and look around me frantically, my head spinning. I am in my dorm. Dana is gone.

It was just a dream, I say, my heart pounding. I wipe the sweat off off my forehead. Just a dream.

I near the edge of the bed, my legs shaky, and put my feet up on the floor. My head complains; it feels as though there are a thousand needles stuck in it.

Another headache, lately I've been getting bundles of those. What fun.

Ok, just take it easy. First, I must lift ass, then, push off off bed with hands, and yes, success, I am standing, even if a little lopsided. My head is dancing circles around the room. I sway over to the closet, get on my knees, and start filing through my clothes. I put my head through something that resembles a shirt, take out a pair of pants, put them on, and don socks of two different colors. I grab my purse, and, finding the door handle, I walk to it and open the door.

I need Tylenol, I think as I put my hand out to the wall to steady myself.

I walk like a yo-yo down the hall, get down the stairs, and push open the door leading outside. I feel instantly better. The fresh air, the bright colors, the coffee shops, they all contribute to the diminishing merry-go-round ride occurring inside my head. After a few more seconds my headache is completely diminished.

Great, now what was I planning to do today? Oh yes.

I was thinking since I have been somewhat slacking off in the convicting-Josh-is-guilty-of-killing-Gabrielle department, I should dedicate this day to him. So, that's where I'm off to, to go find him.

I look at his schedule, the one I wrote down, you know, that time I told his mom I was his biology professor. She only gave me his vital commitments, like his school schedule and extra curricular activities.

I squint at the paper, the only thing Josh has today is…hmm …basketball practice…at Groves Square…in thirty minutes.

Hmm…where exactly is Groves Square?

I take out my portable city map and try to locate this Square. How many Squares are there in this city?

Maine Square…Fleuron Square…Helens Square…

Groves, where's Groves? Groves Groves Groves Groves. I can't find it. It doesn't exist.

I make my eyes focus more closely on the map. Come on, it has to exist.

There! Groves Square. No wonder I didn't see it, it's a microscopic little dot, so small that they didn't even bother putting the name right on the map, it was up over at the side. Great, now how do I get there…?

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Trees. Lot's. Of. Trees. Trees on the road, trees in back alleys, trees in backyards. No wonder it's called GROVES Square, this place is like Tree-Ville.

OK, focus. I must find the basketball court. Swivel, turn head, swivel, turn head…there! I see it. The court. I walk towards it, half hidden by trees. I see people playing basketball.

I go into spy-mode. Right then, which one is Josh?

I root in my purse for the piece of paper with his description on it. Here it is. OK. "Straight, shoulder length brown hair…dark eyes…jaw…with a bump on his nose, small…" I read out, looking around. Which one of them is it? I move closer. None have shoulder length hair. What if he cut it?

It's possible.

I exhale in exasperation. This is hopeless. I sit down on a rock when I hear: "something something Josh…something something," yelled out by some kid. Hey, the keyword is Josh, it doesn't matter that I hadn't heard the rest.

I look round. Apparently, someone new has come, someone with shoulder length brown hair, dark eyes…wait, it's him, it's Josh, the Josh. It has to be.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," I hear Josh say to one of the guys. He looks quite normal, like someone you might actually be friends with. Too bad he enjoys killing people as a hobby, we could have really hit it off.

Well, what do I do now? I hadn't really planned this through. Go me.

Hmm …got it.

I walk out onto the court and pretend like I'm crossing it. I pause at the basketball net, pretending to look for something. This really might not work. A few minutes pass and still I stand, still looking for that invisible non-existent thing that seems to hold so much value for me otherwise I wouldn't be standing here looking like a dork trying to find it.

Someone throws the ball, missing the net, but I'm so busy staring into space, trying to think up of another way I can get Josh alone, that I don't see it. The ball hits me right in the chest. Ok, that really hurt. When your plan works, it's not supposed to hurt. I was supposed to pretend like it hit me, not let it hit me. Oh well, its not so bad, I'll live. The tricky part now is that I have to make them believe I'm mortally wounded, or at least badly hurt, so that someone, preferably Josh, takes me to a clinic or something. So, summoning up my acting skills, I drop down onto the floor and scrunch my face up in pretend pain.

All the guys hurry towards me. Hmm…this is a great way to get dates.

"Are you ok?" the really tall one asks me.

"I don't know," I mutter, looking really pained. "It really hurts," I say, pointing to my ribs. They all stand around me, not knowing what to do. I close my eyes. "I can't breathe, you might have punctured my lung," I say, getting desperate.

"We need to take her to the hospital," a kid with blue eyes says. Yes, yes, that is exactly what I need.

I was trying to think up of ways of getting Josh in particular to take me, when I hear him say:

"I'll do it."

And I stop thinking. That's a brilliant idea.

I nod, trying not to look too eager. He helps me up, and, with him half-carrying me I manage to stagger all the way to his car, clutching my chest as I go.

He's actually very nice, I think as I look at him, which makes it really hard to believe that he could have killed anyone. But hey, I guess you can never know.

I watch him as he opens the door for me, trying to match his description with what Gabrielle told me. The straight shoulder length brown hair, the dark eyes, they were all there, even the bruises she'd described, though now only faintly visible.

He begins driving. I still pretend to be in pain, forcing my eyes closed while taking short breaths.

"Are you all right?" he asks, driving a little faster. "Do you need me to call an ambulance, because---" he starts saying, his voice getting a bit panicky.

"No, it's ok," I say hurriedly. "The pain seems to be going away," I say, giving him a weak smile. Hey, I don't want him to think that I'm dying, though I don't know if he'd really care. He does sound worried. Might be an act though.

"Uh…all right," he says, smiling back at me. My heart gives a guilty little jolt. I'm trying to ruin this guy's life, put him in jail, and he's being so nice to me.

It's just an act, I say to myself. He killed someone. This guy deserves to go to jail.

"I'm Josh," he says, giving me a lopsided smile.

"Oh…uh…I'm Suze," I say.

"It's nice to meet you, Suze," he says, and then looks away, back to the road. "We're here now," he says after a few seconds, parking the car.

We go in through the hospital doors, and, once inside, he assists me into a seat and goes up to the front counter. In a few minutes he comes back and starts helping me up.

"Oh, do they need my card?" I ask, hurriedly opening my purse.

"No, that's fine, I've already paid them," he says. He did WHAT? Why would he do that?

"I…um…I…thank you," is all I manage to say. "You…you didn't have to, I could've just---" I begin saying, but he cuts me off with:

"Don't worry about it."

We go in to see the doctor. Technically, I go in to see the doctor while Josh just waits outside, but whatever, same thing.

"Umm…Suze," the doctor says, looking at a piece of paper. "What seems to be the problem?" she asks, looking up at me.

"I was hit in the chest," I begin saying. "With a basketball," I add hurriedly. She looks over at me.

"Yes, I am aware of the situation," she starts saying. "Are you feeling any pain?" she asks, studying my face. "You don't look too well."

"I don't?" I ask. Did the ball really hit me that hard?

"No, you look rather pale," she says, coming closer to me. She begins feeling my ribs.

"Does that hurt?" she asks.

"No," I say. After a few minutes of her feeling my chest area, with me replying "no" to any of her "do you feel any pain" questions, she takes out her stethoscope and feels my breathing.

"Your breathing's fine," she says, and after a few seconds asks, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better now," I say, giving her a smile.

"Well, everything seems to be normal," she says.

"Umm, Ok," I say, getting up, "as long as nothing is broken."

"Yes," she says. "My only suggestion is that you get some rest, and if you feel any sort of pain in the next few days you're more than welcome to come back for another check-up."

"Ok," I say.

"Well, Bye for now," she says.

"Bye," I reply back, walking over to the door. I open it and see Josh waiting for me, a troubled expression on his face.

"She says I'll be fine," I say, "nothing seems to be broken."

He looks relieved.

"That's great," he says, and after a short silence continues awkwardly with, "well…I guess I'll just drive you home then."

"Yeah," I reply.

We drive back in silence and pretty soon we arrive at my dorm building.

"Well, here you are," he says, coming to a stop.

"Thanks," I say, trying to sound pleasant. It's hard. "For, for everything," I add.

"It's all right," he says, giving me a slight smile. I close the door and start walking up the stairs when I hear Josh's voice.

"Hey Suze," he shouts out. I turn around to face him. He has gotten out of his car and is now running up the stairs, trying to catch up to me.

"Yeah?" I ask curiously.

"How…how would you like to…um…have some dinner sometime?" he asks nervously.

I was planning something different for our next encounter, but hey, this is good too.

"That would be great," I say, looking extra-happy, "though I'm kind of busy during the week."

"Oh, that's all right," he says, "are you free on Saturday?"

"Saturday is fine," I say,

"So, I'll pick you up at seven," he says in a questioning tone.

"Seven," I say, smiling. "Well…bye for now."

"Bye," he says, and I march up the stairs and in through the door.

Perfect.

As I near our dorm door I see Dana standing there with some guy.

"Um…Hi," I say to no one in particular, an amused expression on my face.

No one says anything back. OK. I must have come at a bad time.

"Well I guess I'll get going then," the guy says. "Bye."

He stalks off.

Dana opens the door and we both walk in.

"Well?" I start off.

"Well what?" Dana says evasively.

"Well who was that?" I ask. What does she think, that I'm stupid?

"No one," she says indifferently.

"Oh, really, I could have sworn that I saw someone," I say sardonically.

"He's just some guy," she says casually. I raise my eyebrows.

"Some guy…what did he want?" I ask, being annoyingly persist.

"He asked me out…and…well, I said no," she says simply, as though she went chicken shopping but didn't buy any because she didn't like the brand.

"You said no? Why'd you say no?" I ask incredulously.

"It wouldn't last," she says, giving me a meaningful look.

"How do you know that?" I ask in a disbelieving voice.

"I just know," she says, pausing between each word. I stare at her questioningly. "I'm not staying long enough…mumble mubble mubble mubble."

"What do you mean you're not staying long enough? You've still got, like, four years," I say.

"No, after one I'm gone," she says as though it's obvious. She pretends to be writing something.

"What do you mean you're gone? Where are you going?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

"I just don't feel like this University is the right place for me," she replies.

"But…but I thought you love your courses, you are always raving about them," I say in argument.

"No, I was just pretending, trying to convince myself that I liked them, but it couldn't be farther from the truth…I…I can't keep doing this," she says, her voice breaking. "I have to go," she says, and storms out of the room.

Dana doesn't like her courses? Pretending? Something's going on with her, this is not right.

Has she gotten pregnant? Is that it? Maybe she's joined a mafia.

I look over at her table for clues. Bunch of papers. I walk over to it. Shuffle shuffle shuffle. Hmm…what is this?

"We are sorry to tell you that your loan has been denied…blah blah blah," I read out. I pick up the next paper. Same thing. The next. Same. Next. Same. They all decline her request for a loan.

Then it hits me. She's leaving not because she doesn't like her courses but because she can't pay for her tuition.

Then I remember something…the contest, the sixty grand, wouldn't that pay for her tuition? But for some reason she asked me if I was going to join. Why would she ask me to join?

Think meeting, what did they say at the meeting. I come up blank.

Well, maybe she can't join…maybe…maybe they don't allow smart people to join…maybe…then it comes to me…maybe they don't allow people with scholarships to join.

I assemble all these bits of information together to form a large sentence in my head: she can't join the contest herself, so she wants me to enter and win her the money so she can pay for her tuition.

She needs that money. I start pacing the room. She deserves it more than anybody else. More pacing. I won't let her quit. I'm going to ensure that she finishes University.

I have made a decision, one I know I'm not going to like. I've decided that I'm going to enter the contest, for Dana, and try my hardest to win.

I walk out of our dorm and go off searching for her.

I never really appreciated how large our University actually is. Never. Now I do. I got really tired just walking down the hall. As I near the next hallway, I see a big sign informing people where the contest sign-up place is. Maybe she's there, at the sign-up place, though I'm not sure why. Well, I don't know where else to look, really, so I just head there.

As soon as I arrive, I start looking around for Dana. Gosh, there are so many people here. It's going to be pretty hard to find her, if she's even here that is.

I see her standing in line. I push, kick, and shove trying to get through the crowd without taking my eyes off off her. When I reach her I swivel her around to face me.

"Suze?" she says, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Why…why are you here?" she asks, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"To talk to you about the contest," I say breathlessly. She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and then this comes out:

"SuzeI'mreallysorry, I hadn'tmeanttodoit, Iwasdesperate, Ineverconsideredyour feelings. Ididn'tknowwhatelsetodo, Imeanofcourseyouwouldneverwanttodothis, Iwassostupid, butdon'tworrybecause…because I'm un-signing you right away, " she says.

"What, what are you taking about? Un-signing me from what?" I ask.

"The…the contest," she looks at me questioningly, "that I signed you up for…that…that…" then she stops. "You never knew that I signed you up, did you?" she asks, knowing fully the answer.

"No, but I want to…wait…you signed me up for it? Without even asking me?" I start saying, but then I remember why I'm here. "Dana, although it's wrong to sign people up for things without them knowing, I don't want you to un-sign me, I'm going to win you the money---"

"Suze, I'm really sorry, I know you're mad, but you have to listen to me, I didn't kno--- wait, what did you say?" She asks, looking at me as though I'm the most amusing thing she's ever seen.

"I said I'm going to win you the money," I repeat.

"You, you know about…you will? You'll do it? Oh Suze," she says, hugging me. "I can't believe you'd do that that is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me I don't know what to say you are the nicest person I've ever met you are so cool I will buy you ice cream for the rest of your life you are so great…" she rattles on. And on. And on.

We head back to our dorm, with Dana attached to me like sticky tape and muttering that she will love me forever and marry me if only I were a man, but that if I really wanted to marry her she would regardless of my lacking male counterparts.

We finally reach our dorm. Dana un-sticks herself from my body and starts talking about the contest and says how it will be hard but she will help me because I'm "so nice." She gives me a sheet of paper, she says I have to complete everything on the list, and, if I do the best job out of everyone, I will win.

Sound simple enough, right?

That's what you think, but wait until you hear what I have to do.

Part of to do list:

Participate with helping in the Cancer Awareness Parade, (So that's why Dana dragged me there.) or, The Gay Parade.

Learn something new, i.e. something that you can present to the judges at the end of the contest.

Get high grades, 90+.

Do something nice for your community. (Does helping a ghost count?).

Help out a friend. (Good one).

Try something different. (They're so detailed I could die).

And on and on it goes…

This is like a treasure hunt. The only catch is that you must complete all the things on the list with more thoughtfulness, more creativity, and more care than anybody else in order to win.

It doesn't matter who finishes first.

Dana gave me another piece of paper that talks about helping each other out or something like that, but I'll read it later. I have to call my mom since I kind of did promise to call her.

She says she misses me and wants me to come back, then talks about how fun and exciting her week has been, then says it would have been better if I was there, and then starts listing the most peculiar and exciting things that have happened and I had missed but would have loved to have been a part of. Those peculiar---exciting for her---things include Dopey getting good marks, Doc getting a girlfriend, and so on.

Conversation ends, I hang up.

Someone is knocking on our door.

Dana left, so she can't open it, unless she does it spiritually, so I'm forced to get up and walk to the door and open it. I see who it is and stand mute with surprise. The song, "I hate everything about you," starts playing in my head, without the next part. Definitely without the next part.

"Hello," hated being says.

"Jesse, what a surprise," I say in a fake-pleasant voice. "OK, what do you want?" I ask, my face adopting a screw-off expression.

"Well, we must start planning what we're going to do," he says.

"Do for what?" I ask, annoyed. Am I going to jail for spilling water on his pants?

"For the contest," he says obviously, then, seeing the confused expression on my face, he explains, "we're partners."

Still confused. "Partners?" I ask stupidly.

"The people in charge of the contest want us to work in partners, thus they partnered up all the participants, and, by some chance, I ended up as your partner," he says all of that real slowly, as though I'm mentally incapable of understanding what he says. "Did you bother looking at the second paper? The one that mentions the partnership?" he asks inquiringly.

Apparently not.

He also says that your partner's name is written at the bottom of that page.

I find the page and scroll down to the bottom. It says: partner, Jesse. He's not lying.

I can't move.

A thought suddenly appears in my head: I have to work with this for the next five months. I need this to help me win. Dana needs this to finish University.

I want to die.