Given that I'm finally not that busy, this took a preposterously long time to write, so I'm apologizing. It's not nearly as action-packed as the last chapter, although important information is still imparted.

Read.

First Blood

After our, ahem— incident, Spencer's mother apparently pulled her out of Eckhardt's Academy. Kyla was distraught, Ben was disappointed, Aiden was disheartened, Waldo was disconsolate, and I was distressed. (Talise, I suppose, was still disillusioned, but that is beside the point.) I had hoped we'd be friends, but I have no idea how to contact her. The only connection I had with her was the fact that she went to Eckhardt's, and now, for all I knew, she had disappeared from the face of the planet.

Despite my gloomy thoughts, Talise seems to have gotten over whatever had been bothering her before. For the most part, she is back to normal, although she still gives Joe short shrift and has been downright frosty to Christine. At home, things were tense for a while, but they've gotten back to usual. Just when I think the world will move on without another trace of Spencer Carlin—

"Hey, Ashley,"

—she plops into the seat next to me at lunch. "Oh god, I'm sorry!" Her next move is to whack my back in an attempt (failed) to help me cough up a chunk of a sandwich that lodged in my throat when she appeared out of nowhere. At last, a little ball of half-chewed food falls onto my napkin. Gasping and a little embarrassed, I stare at her.

"Um... hi?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Silence. During which I examine her school-made chicken burger for signs of mold. Just in case.

As it drags on, I grit my teeth in frustration. Why can't we start a conversation without being so painfully awkward? Every single time we meet, it feels like I have to force us into a conversation.

"Why are you at King? What happened after the other night? And," looking at her T-shirt, "what is that?" I erupt.

Glancing down, she answers the last question first. "That is an Angora rabbit."

"That's a rabbit?" Peering closer, I see what might be a rabbit face in what looks like a mound of fluff. I thought I already saw the world's strangest animals when Talise went through her Animal Planet phase that I, invariably, got sucked into.

"Yep."

She doesn't say anything else, so I prod her some more, "Why are you here?" Her back stiffens before she replies.

"Well, my mother deemed it prudent that my education be relocated to somewhere away from Kyla immediately." What? Who talks like that? Talise does— wait, let me revise that. Who talks like that and is sane?

Ignoring the sudden turn for the nuthouse, I manufacture more conversation. "Do you like it here?"

"It's... um- well," she sputters. Seeing that she's at a loss for words or something, I decide to pull out my best conversational skills, which isn't much.

"The water's yellow," I tell her sincerely. She turns faintly green. "But I'm sure it's safe," I rush to reassure her. "I wouldn't drink it or anyth—"

"She's not always like that, you know—I mean," (What does this have to do with the water?) "—my mother." (Um, okay.)

"Um, okay," What else am I supposed to say?

"She's a really nice person deep down, but she has her faults like anybody. There are just some things she just doesn't get," Spencer informs me earnestly. I remember the previous night when she had basically attacked me and decide that I never want to be something Paula Carlin "just doesn't get".

"I'm sure she's great." I manage, lying spectacularly.

Spencer regards me skeptically, but doesn't comment further.

"Hey, Spencer," we turn toward the call. "What are you doing over here?" Glen jogs up to us. "Why don't you come sit with us?" He gestures toward where the vultures are sitting.

"Yeah, it'll be fun, come on," Madison and the rest of her flock swoop in, practically stepping on me as they crowd around Spencer.

Sherry hops onto the table (because I need a view of her butt while I eat) and leans over my food. "I heard you were head cheerleader back in Ohio. You should try out for the squad next year." Madison and Sherry won't be here next year (thank god) so they don't have to worry about any competition Spencer might cause.

Chattering wildly, the flock descends on Spencer, testing her for weaknesses and deciding what kind of addition she might be to their group. Staying part of their flock is a constant battle to stay in Madison's favor. The only person who's lasted more than a year is Sherry. They're all hoping that a new member might be easy to shove the blame on. Also, they're looking for followers because the most popular person stands the best chance of taking Madison's place next year.

"Come on, sit with us," they whine.

"Alright," Spencer caves, looking slightly overwhelmed. "Are you coming, Ash?" My eyes jerk up from where they were glumly considering the pattern of food crusted on the cafeteria table.

"Huh?" Bewildered, my tongue freezes. Go to the table with Spencer? I want to, but that would be the stupidest thing I've ever done. One glance at the vultures secures my answer. "No."

Between the glares and the throat-slitting hand gestures, I'm guessing that my company wouldn't go down well.

"Why not?" she asks, tilting her head.

"I like it here," I notify her. It's true. Me and this table (this table and I, just for Talise) have had a long, healthy relationship for the last few years. Some people have nationalism, I have table-ism. To abandon it would be base betrayal— a direct contradiction to the values and belief our lunchtime is founded on.

Plus, I'd rather not get picked to pieces by vultures, especially if Spencer is watching.

"Are you sure?" Spencer looks around, as though noticing the lack of anybody else in the vicinity for the first time. "Nobody will mind."

Uh—no, Spencer, everybody will mind.

"I'm good here." I insist.

"Okay..." she says reluctantly, while I count the number of pores in my bread.

"Come on," one of the vultures (is that all they've been taught to say?) bleats, dragging her away.

Odes could be written about the school bell. Instead of the Liberty Bell, we should have the school bell. It's a much better symbol of freedom. If that were the case, Sherry might not be failing history (although I'm barely scraping by, so I'll keep that to myself). Today, the joy the bell brings is bolstered by—

"Hey Ashley," —you guessed it: Spencer.

"Hi," I smile, thankful that I don't have any food in my mouth this time around.

"So, how was your day?" She seems really chipper right now, and I get caught along in her good mood.

"Decent," I reply. It was actually quite horrible, and involved a rather annoying game of basketball in gym, but I'm entertaining the notion that it could still turn out okay. "How'd yours go?"

"Great! It turns out that my—" I nod as she tells me all about her amazing art teacher. I've had Ms. Gerdine before, and the only thing I learned was how angry she gets when you spill paint. Nevertheless, Spencer is absolutely enamored with her, and keeps babbling on about her until we get outside.

Searching for either Talise, Aiden or even Joe in the crowd, I turn around several times, trying not to be swallowed up by the commotion. Ever since the first day, it felt safer just to get a ride.

"Ashl—. Hi, Spencer." Standing in the middle of the parking lot, leaning on his Nissan, hands in his jean pockets, face shifting from bored to engaging, is Aiden. As always, he's perfectly composed and disgustingly charming.

"Oh, hi." To my elation, she doesn't seem nearly as excited to see him as he does her. "Look, I'm sorry about the other night. That—"

"It's okay. Everyone's family is crazy," he shrugs with a smile. "Nobody's perfect, right?" I wish his mouth would disappear. His teeth are blinding me.

"Yeah, look, I didn't mean—" Spencer starts again, anxious to make sure things are alright.

"Hey, I get it, alright?" He assures her warmly. "Every family has its kinks" I don't know what sickens me more: Aiden's flawless friendliness or Spencer's relieved expression.

"Thanks," she says, her lips tugging upwards a little.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you want to go see a movie sometime... Saturday maybe?" Her face works as though she's trying to do long division in her head.

"Well,..."

"If you come with me," his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll even buy skittles."

"Fine," she laughs. There goes any chance of having a good day.

"'Fine'? God, you make it sound like I'm torturing you or something."

Shaking her head but still grinning, she drawls deliberately, "Fine. I'll be delighted to go with you. We'll have such a wonderful time.

"Great, see you then. I'll get your number from Kyla." White-toothed smile firmly in place he walks back inside his car.

"Bye," I tell a beaming Spencer before climbing in.

On the way home, I remind myself that killing Aiden while he's driving isn't conducive to my own survival.