:: ::

Aunt Sarah was screaming into her phone when I got home. "No, I said vanilla—vanilla—not red velvet! Wait, don't you dare put me on hold! Great, I'm on hold!" she was saying. I'd never seen her so angry. Her cheeks were practically glowing red. She had a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other, her knuckles were white from gripping both items too harshly. For a second, it struck me exactly how different we looked. She was mixing pot of pinks and reds, her skin an ivory white. She and Mom were half sisters, and still they'd looked alike, with their pinkish-red eyes. Mom had been tanner than Sarah, though; they shared a mother, not a father. Sarah's dad had been Irish, I think, meanwhile Grandma was Puerto Rican. Granddad was English, so Mom and Auntie had shared a milky complexion. They'd looked similar in their dimpled grins and white skin. Meanwhile, my dad had shared Grandma's ethnicity; I had no milky white skin of which to speak. My eyes were purple like my father's and his dark hair, too. My skin was a dulled kind of brown, the result of being three-fourths Hispanic.

Where Aunt Sarah had bright pink hair that was miles long, I had dark black hair that didn't so much as reach my shoulders. Where she had red eyes and a natural blush, I had violet eyes and no blush. Where Sarah had a straight, elegant nose, mine was pert and small. Where Sarah's voice was professional, mine was loud.

No one would ever look at us and think, Are they related?It made me smile, how different I looked from someone so close in the family line. Unique, my dad would say.

I threw my bag to the side of the door and walked to the kitchen. "Welcome home, honey," Sarah greeted me. "There are flowers in there for you."

My brows knitted together. Who would send me flowers? Well, other than Kentin. It probably was him, being the creepy sweetheart that he was. I scanned the kitchen and saw the flowers right next to the sink. Pink poppies and red begonias. There was a card in the depths of the colorful flowers, hidden behind a scarlet begonia well enough that someone only idly looking at the arrangement wouldn't find. I pulled it out; the page was thick and heavy in my hands, folded in half, my name written in Helvetica on the front. It flipped open with a thick swish. It wasn't handwritten; the rolling Microsoft Word cursive font greeted me. Poppies: Condolences, Begonias: Beware, it started. My lips pursed. The hell? We are sorry for your loss. Beware of things incoming.

Excuse my language, but, the fuck? Who in hell would send a base full of flowers with a cryptic, unsigned note?

I stood there for a moment, staring at the note, then realized who could've sent it. Of course. It seemed her style; she and her little crew would send something like this to send shivers down my spine. Where they found the time to do it and how they got someone to deliver so quickly was beyond me, but I didn't put it past the blonde chick. She did say I would "pay." And the color scheme seemed her style too.

I rolled my eyes and took a deep whiff of the flowers. They'd look nice in the downstairs bathroom.

"No, I said vanilla—V-A-N-I-L-L-A!" Aunt Sarah shouted again, finally taken off hold. Her outrage was uncharacteristic. This wedding was pulling more out of her than every single other party she'd ever planned. It was in less than two weeks. That bride was insane, and she was going to drive my aunt insane. "What the—? No, I don't want chocolate!" The cake people were crazier.

I rolled my eyes. Poor Auntie Sarah, she was going to lose her mind.

I grabbed my bookbag and headed upstairs; homework awaited.

:: ::

It was seven when Lizzy called. I was on. I was on my bed, finishing the song "Curse of Curves" acoustically. I needed to find out where this place has a library, otherwise I would get sick of playing guitar. While I didn't think that was possible, I didn't want to test it out.

"Alise!" she said, sounding like she could decide to be angry, concerned, or happy.

"Yes, McGuire?" I asked, looking around my room for something to do while I talked. I could probably go downstairs and cook, seeing as Aunt Sarah was still busy. Besides, I hadn't had a proper porkchop in weeks. I brushed aside a strand of hair that has fallen onto my eyes.

"You could've called me this morning!" she insisted. Angry was the decided-upon emotion. I rolled my eyes and clicked on the plasma screen. "I would've woken up!"

I sighed. "Liz, be honest with yourself," I said, smirking. "If the world burned down and everyone was screaming for help, you'd turn around and dig your head into the pillow and ignore everything."

I could picture Lizzy pursing her lips. "Shut up," she grumbled. I heard the loud scream of bed springs, as if she'd jumped down on her bed. I listened to her, aware of the show playing in the background of my room. "So," she said. "Tobiah said some dude answered your phone." She was smart not to mention when he called, and I silently thanked her for it. "Who was he?" Lizzy wondered, dragging the words out like the gossip she was.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "His name is Castiel."

"Duh," she stated. "Tobi told me that. But who is he? Does Alise have a boyfriend?" She dragged out the words again, hiding a giggle behind them.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I've been here exactly one week and met exactly eleven people teenagers—three of which who hate me—but yeah, I already have a boyfriend. Sure, Lizzy. Of course," I scoffed.

I could imagine her shrugging. "You're a pretty girl," she said flippantly. I rolled my eyes again, staying silent, letting her feelexactly how stupid she was being. "Anyway, what's this you say about being hated? What happened?"

"Eh," I responded. The flowers sprung to mind. "She's one of those girls, and of course she's got a posse, so you know."

Lizzy snorted. "Speaking of those girls, Melanie's back on top of the social heirarchy," she growled. Melanie was the Amber of my old school. Actually, Amber was the Melanie of Sweet Amoris High. She had a crush on Tobi once. After she found out I was his "cousin," she freaked out and backed off.

"So kick her down to size," I said, as if it were the single most simple thing in the world. "Aren't you Lizzy McGuire?"

Lizzy scoffed. "No, actually, I'm Tangelina Dixon, a blonde nicknamed after another blonde who's socially inept." Her voice was amused. "Don't tell me you forgot my real name?"

"Nope," I said, popping the P. "I just really like to hear you say your name. Tangelina."

"Oh shut up," she huffed. Then she said, "Besides, that wasn't your best argument. Lizzie McGuire was notorious for being bullied by one of thosegirls."

"Neh, true."

It was silent for a bit. Then Lizzy aha'd. "I asked you about that boyfriend you got!" she said, like she'd just remembered.

I groaned. "I don't have a boyfriend!"

Lizzy tsked. "So says she," she muttered under her breath. I could picture her rolling her navy blue eyes. "But anyway—Kentin's there? He followed you to another school in another state?"

I scowled. "Don't remind me."

"What is wrong with that boy?" she insisted. Back home, she used to pull her student body president weight around and order others—under threat or under bribe—to keep Ken away from me for as long as possible. She always thought some wire was loose in Ken's thick head. "Did you tell anyone?"

"Didn't have to," I sighed. I winced as Michael Kyle said something about a hot dog trick, remembering the little scene in computer class. "Remember when I told you the class president was next to me and you whined about youbeing it?" Lizzy hummed in agreement. "Ken was there; the clothing shop owner called him a stalker."

"The clothing shop owner goes to high school and is the class president? I think you have more to worry about than Ken."

I laughed. "No, he's eighteen. He quit school to run a clothing shop, then came back to graduate high school and go to fashion school." Wow that was a weird sentence. "And he's not the school prez, his friend Nathaniel is."

"Nathaniel?" she asked. "President Nathaniel? Well. At least it's better than President Tangelina." I don't know what she had against the name Nathaniel, but I knew I didn't want to be there if she ever met the poor sucker with that name. "Does he at least go by Nate?"

I thought for a second. "I don't know, I've never tried. No one calls him that."

Lizzy groaned. "Those are the worse kind of Nathaniels, and Nathaniels by themselves are pretty bad."

I shrugged. "Eh, he kind of reminds me of you," I admitted. My anger was simmering. That was probably because I couldn't exactly remember the shimmer of pity in his eyes. When I did, I was sure I would boil over. But for now… "He's blond and professional."

Lizzy gasped, taking offense. "When the hell did I become professional? I thought you were my friend!"

I laughed. "Oh, Liz, really, you are too funny."

"Damn it, Alise, I thought you loved me!" she shouted, making me pull the phone back from my ear. "You don't compare me to a Nathaniel, that's just not what friends do!"

I laughed again. "What is it you have against the name Nathaniel?"

"I don't know!" Lizzy shouted, sounding upset with herself. "I really don't know! I just hateit!"

"You are a riot, McGuire," I chuckled. I sighed. "What's up with you?"

Lizzy thought for a second. "Well, now that you and your bat are gone, Tobi's been falling on me to fight off all his fangirls," she said. I heard her groan. "What do they see in him?!" she asked me, her voice high. "Who taught girls to sharpen their nails?! Alise, I have seven different nail-prints on my upper arm from when seven different girls yanked me from your cousin's side and started oh-so-subtly rubbing their bodies up and down his side.My god, I thought they were raping him. Alise, their laughs—oh my god, their laughs were like moans. And they were doing it deliberately! Alise, I think I'm going to stop hanging out with Tobi. There's too much baggage! Too much, Alise, too much!"

I giggled. "What did you expect?"

"I expected the bat to be a fashion statement!" Lizzy shrieked.

"No such luck, hon."

"Yeah! Figured!" Lizzy sighed. "That boy should come with a warning sticker: Beware, girls are inexplicably attracted to this lump of muscle! Befriend at own risk!"

Did I mention I loved this chick? I laughed again.

Lizzy continued, "And I swear to you, if Melanie pops another button on that blouse of hers, we're going to see her bra. That girl's a whore." She sighed; I knew she was rolling her eyes. "Good news though! She's switched to guys again, so I won't have to worry about her hitting on me again."

"Do you really think she's bi?"

Lizzy scoffed. "No," she answered quickly. "She does it for show. I think the only bi person in this school is still Rodger." Rodger was a hot nerd-whore with a Pokémon obsession. "He got together with Adeline again, and then with Clyde. Then they all got together, if you know what I mean."

"Hope they had fun," I said dryly, "because I'm sure they're gonna catch them all."

Lizzy laughed. "Damn right they are. Although I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with him."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with Dr. Franken Stein, but that's not happening," I snorted.

Lizzy thought for a second. "That anime guy who experiments on himself? The one with the nail in his head? You've got really creepy fantasies, you know that?"

"Shut up! Point is, it's not happening!"

I could almost hear Liz shake her head. "I'm going to forget about how weird you are for a second and instead tell you that my mom said it was okay for me to visit."

I gasped. "Really?"

"Yup," she said, sounding as happy as I felt. "First week of summer, I'm on a plane. All we have to do is convince your aunt."

"All I'd have to do is ask," I told her. "She's flipping over backwards to make me comfortable." I shouldn't use that, really I shouldn't, but what could I say? I'm a teenage girl; I can't help myself.

"Good," she said, sounding satisfied. "Well, I've got to go. My brother's begging for lunch and if I don't give it to him, I can say goodbye to our summer plan."

"Tell Joey hi for me."

"Will do. Peace."

:: ::

Nathaniel sat next to me. His hazel eyes didn't have a hint of pity in them, and for that I was glad. He just looked sad. "Hey," he greeted, looking up from his backpack to me. "Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry I got you upset. I didn't know about your parents. I'm sorry."

I shrugged, leaning back into my chair. Its legs complained. "Don't worry about it," I assured, kicking my boots onto the desk. "I overreacted. It's just…" I trailed off, not finishing the sentence. I played with the buttons on my boots. I was silent for a long while, and I knew he was waiting for me to say something. I shook my head. "Forget about it, okay?" I smiled at him, throwing my feet back onto the floor. "Tell me how that fundraiser is coming along."

Nathaniel smiled back. "We're sending out flyers soon," he said. My eyes widened in surprise. They put that together fast. Either they knew they needed that money fast, or they were an efficient group of people. "Friday April eighteenth."

I nodded. "What time?" I wondered, remembering my promise to show up and help out.

Nathaniel seemed overjoyed to be talking about his handiwork as student body president. "Right after school, around three thirty, until seven thirty."

I smiled at him. "I'll be there," I promised.

Nathaniel stayed quite. I turned back to my desk, ready to doodle on something, when Leigh came into the room in all his Victorian-era clothing. He came up and sat on my other side, and scanned me. His face was entirely professional until he smiled at my shoes. "Victorian?" he asked, voice silent, nodding at my feet.

I shrugged and smiled at him. "What can I say?" I answered, pulling on the top of the boots and adjusting them around my calves. "You've inspired me. I'll be in tomorrow with a powdered wig and a hoop skirt." I grinned at him.

"I'll have you fitted," he offered, joking. He was wearing striped slacks, a purple tie to go with his white shirt and black overcoat, and a top hat. I reached out for the top hat, but he pulled it off and held it on the side where I couldn't reach. He offered me a smirk. "Hands off, little one."

I rolled my eyes at him. First midget from Tobi and now "little one" from Leigh. "Can I at leasttry it on?" I begged.

"No," he said sternly.

I widened my eyes. "Why?" I cried. "I mean really! Why do you wear such cool outfits if you don't want people asking you if they can try them on!"

Leigh chuckled at me. He put his hat back on. "If you'd buy from my store, perhaps I'd rethink my decision," he said.

I crossed my arms. "You marketing fiend," I accused, and Leigh rolled his eyes at me.

:: ::

I noticed Peggy was in my Honors English class. I don't know why I hadn't realized that before; she was actually quite noticeable. She always rose her hand and shouted out answers, scoffed when someone got the most obvious parts of writing wrong. The class had apparently written stories and edited others', and today was the day they were going to share what they thought. Peggy had jumped up when O'Neil asked for volunteers to go first. She leaned against the whiteboard and eyed the person whose paper she's edited. "It was horrible," she announced strongly. "I mean, how do you not know that the punctuation goes inside the quotation marks, Jade? And grammar! Your means belonging to you, you're means you are. Oh, and I before E, okay?" she ranted. She was smiling good-naturedly, though her arms were crossed and it was obvious she was very serious. "Last but not least, a period inside the quotation means the end of a sentence. You do not, by any means, end said quotation and continue on a lower-case letter!"

Peggy took a breath and uncrossed her arms, then smiled at the guy who looked like a garden—green hair, green eyes—and walked back to her seat. The garden-guy looked back, pretending to be insulted. "You're mean!" he gasped at her.

Peggy shrugged. "It's all about tough love, babe," she said.

It went like that. The Honors class was small, though, so there weren't many people to go. It was all as expected when people came up front to present. All the sweaty fingers and awkward stuttering, the confident voices and strong eye-locks. I was grouped with the former myself, but apparently Peggy and her green-haired friend weren't. I stayed silent in the back of the room, toying with my pen and listening in. If the period were longer, I was sure I would have ended up rereading my Steampunk books. As it was, the class was forty minutes long and by the time the last person finished, the bell was ringing.

I was planning on catching up with Peggy when Mr. O'Neil called me over. I grabbed the straps of my bag and shifted my weight. "Yes, sir?" I asked. The next class was spilling in already.

"Miss Sanders," he said, folding his hands on his desk, "you are new here, yes? Just moved in with your aunt, Sarah Ward?" He had the slightest Irish accent. My aunt was well-known in this school, apparently. I wondered how long these teachers had been teaching here. Did they remember my mom too? I didn't want to know. I shook my head inwardly at myself and nodded at my teacher. "I was friends with your grandparents," he said, as if it should make me feel better about talking to him. "I was just wondering if you and your aunt were okay."

"Why?" I pointed my thumb back to my seat and looked back and forth between it and O'Neil. "Was I acting off?" I wondered. I knew what he was hinting at. I just didn't want to answer it. Life would be so much better if I just acted oblivious.

The teacher unfolded his hands. "I know this must be hard for you, but if you need someone to—"

"If I need someone to talk to, I can talk to my friends," I snapped. I didn't need this from a man I'd just met. I paused. "Sir," I added as an afterthought. I crossed my arms and took a deep breath. Pity and worry mingled in his brown eyes. I swallowed down my anger. "Listen, sir, I just want to forget about it. Okay?" I didn't wait for his answer, and took another deep breath. "Do any of the other teachers know?"

O'Neil looked up at me from his desk. He studied me for a second. "No, just me. Your aunt told me."

A shaky breath escaped me. "Can we keep it like that?"

The teacher studied me again, then nodded his head, and I raced out of the door and into the courtyard, putting my headphones in on the way and playing Panic! At the Disco's Nine in the Afternoon, just because it always calmed me. I didn't look up when I got to the courtyard, just sat on a bench and stared at my iPhone. There were a few minutes of blessed silence until someone patted my shoulder.

An unexpected smile broke across my face when I saw Castiel, the sun forming a halo around his head. "Are you ever in class?" I asked, hating myself for the way my voice came out of my mouth: Relieved and calm.

"Not unless it's music class," he answered, his voice deep and smooth like hot chocolate. A melody of its own. I sighed at myself, turning to stare at the white school sign. Castiel took a seat next to me, the warmth of his body wrapping around me like a hug. He wasn't close enough to smell, and for that I was glad; his scent would be the death of me. "What's with you? You stormed in here like a typhoon."

I pressed my lips together and ran my hand through my hair. I never did much with it, so it floated over my shoulders in tight ringlets. I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose and sighed. "Nothing," I muttered, listening as a bird squawked.

Castiel rose a brow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing if you count my English teacher offering a shoulder to cry on nothing," I admitted. I hated how he didn't have to insist too hard. Or maybe I hated how willing I was to answer him.

"Ah," he sighed. "Oliver?"

"O'Neil."

Castiel made a face. "The guys a pedophile," he said.

I laughed, albeit bitterly. "Every school has one," I told him. "My old school's pedobear was a Mrs. Will. She was the principal."

"How old was she?"

"Too old and too ugly to be a MILF, if that's what you want to know," I told him, smiling slightly.

Castiel shrugged. "Too bad," he said. "Good job at changing the subject."

I shrugged, too. "What can I say?"

It was silent for a long while. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just quite. The warmth of his body was wonderful and I wondered what he would do if I asked him for his jacket again, not because I was cold but just to be able wear it. What would it be like to be under his arm right now? The strong muscle of his arm over my shoulder, keeping me close. His hands were big; I was sure they'd engulf my own. They were corse from playing guitar, that I knew. I hated how much I wanted to hold his hand, how much I wanted him to hold me. Damn PMS. Hell, if I were to be honest with myself, I knew the PMS wasn't to blame too much; it was him. Damn Castiel.

I looked up at him—the sharp plane of his mouth, the soft curl of his lips, the grayness of his sharp eyes, the crinkles in his leather jacket, the chain on his black jeans. Yeah. Defiantly him. Damn him.

The soft deepness of his laugh made me blink. "We match," he said. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a black V-neck shirt with a design like red splashes of paint, a black shirt that was just barelyto dress code, along wry the calf-length Victorian boots Leigh had complemented me on. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with that ever-present chain of his, his worn leather jacket, and a blood-red shirt. It was his usual outfit, seeing as he always wore something similar. Yesterday it'd been gray-wash skinnies with a blank red shirt. This shirt had Asking Alexandra.

I chuckled. "So we do," I said, smiling. I stretched my legs and crossed them again. Castiel let out a whistle. His gray eyes ran up and down my legs, sending a wave of butterflies into my stomach. "Yeah," I said, feeling incredibly proud of them. "Aren't they pretty? Go on, touch them. You know you want to."

Castiel rolled his eyes and laughed. "You are something else, you know that, Alise?"

"That's what all my friends say," I giggled. I smoothed over my skirt. "Although Amber calls me emo-dweeb. Oh—and small fry, can't forget small fry!"

"I take it Amber's been bothering you?"

I snorted. "If she'd been bothering me, I would have taken care of it, trust me," I answered. "No, she's been threatening me. If it were over something stupid, I wouldn't bring it up." I leaned up to his ear and, in a mock whisper, said, "Don't tell anyone, but I think she has a crush on you."

Castiel rose a brow. His razor-edged frown was the one thing to tell me he was angry. "She's been threatening you over me?"

"Nah," I answered. "She threatened me over Nathaniel—she just warned me over you." I smiled. "Practice Makes Perfect is your favorite song, right?" He blinked at me, wondering what the hell that had to do with Amber. He neither confirmed nor denied it, just shrugged. I smiled. "Does she know that?"

"No," he answered. "Why would she know that?"

I shrugged. "Why do I know that?" I asked back. He stared at me with his brown-gray eyes for a second, then looked away, eyes staring at the huge white sign. I sighed. A dog yapped in the distance, reminding me of the principal's dog, the one that had been so busy with a chew toy that I'd only noticed him in the back of my mind. He looked kind of like a wiener-dog, longhaired chihuahua mix. "I used to have a dog," I told Castiel, taking a deep breath and sighing.

Castiel rose a brow again. "Oh?" he asked idly.

I nodded. "His name was Tarzan." I smiled. "He was the sweetestGerman Shepard ever. The second you messed with my cousin or I, though, he turned into a murderer." I thought for a second, remembering how he'd rolled onto his back and begged for belly rubs. "What about you, do you have a dog?"

"A Belgian Shepard," he responded. He smiled, just a little bit.

"A big one?" Big dogs were the best to cuddle with, plus they were amazing pillows.

"Huge. His name's Demon."

I smirked. "I would make a smart comment, but I can't remember one song right now that talks about dogs and demons," I said regretfully. Then I grinned. "Although I do want to sing Highway to Hell right now." Castiel rolled his eyes at me, but I knew from the slight twitch of his lips that he was at leastamused by the thought. "What color is he? Black or cream?"

"Black."

"I should meet him."

Castiel made a sound almost like a snort. He stretched his legs, and the buckles on his boots clanged. "He doesn't like people."

I shrugged. "I'm not people," I contradicted, "I'm a doggie-lover."

Castiel tsked. "That'll make a difference," he snorted.

The wind blew. It was just the sound of our breathing and a dog's distant yapping—which was getting closer. The dog whizzed past us, looking like a hairy little bullet. Stubby legs went a long way, if you had four of them. Huh. It looked like a prisoner finally getting out. Mrs. Wan Gong raced after him—her?—while her belted pink suit bounced around her. Her face was red and her glasses were sliding off her face. Her gray bun was coming undone. She gasped for her breath, resting her little hands on her weak knees. She huffed, blowing a gray strand out of her face and coming to a stand. Then looked up to face Castiel and I. "You!" she shouted at us, the veins in her eyes were red. I blinked, pointing at myself. "Yes, you! You saw my Kiki, didn't you? She came though here, so you saw her, and you didn't stop her! You had better find her, Miss Sanders, or you're suspended!"

What the hell!? "Um… I've got to go to class…" I reminded her. This was a school, not a pet sitter.

"I will excuse you myself when you find her!" Mrs. Wan Gong shouted at me, the sweet lady I met a few days ago gone from every fiber of her being. She huffed and swiveled on her heels, stomping away.

I blinked, shocked, for a moment. There was a moment of stunned silence after that. Then: "What just happened?"

Castiel stood up and turned to face me. "What happened is Wan Gong found a way to shove her losing her mutt onto the unsuspecting new girl," he said, not sounding the least bit surprised. He ran a hand through his red hair, exposing black roots again.

"I'm going to have to find her, aren't I?" I asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Afraid so."

I sighed, pointing in direction of the garden. "That way, right?"

"Go, scamper off, find the dog."

I widened my eyes at him and pouted. "Help me?"

Castiel let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "You wish, don't you?"

"I really, really do."

He waved me off.

:: ::

I missed third period chasing after that damned dog. What the hell was a dog doing in a school anyway? A supervisor would have to intervene somehow, I mean really! Aren't some kids allergic to dogs? What the hell? Kiki had long fur, she wasn't hypoallergenic! How does an animal with such short legs run so goddamned fast? Where could I learn to do that? Because the way the doggie hunt was going, I sure as hell was going to need it! Pounce on the little mix-breed and drag her to Wan Gong by the goddamned ear if I could! And where the hell did that principal get off, anyway? I was a student, not a slave! I shouldn't even be here! I should be back home, dammit! As if that weren't enough, I was behind in math class, I didn't need to fall behind even more!

The only "Kiki Clue," as I had oh-so-wittingly called them, was a leash in the garden. I won't even ask how that dog got it off; I really didn't want to know. I was stomping around the hallways between bells when Amber ran into me.

There was an angry look in her teal eyes; it took me a moment to realize they were teal when last time they were hazel. She flipped her hair and, when untried to push past her, held her arm out to stop me. "You really are pathetic," she told me.

I took a deep breath. "Amber, back up, I'm not in the mood for you."

She ignored me. Her posse laughed at me a bit. "Do you know why you're pathetic?" she continued anyway. "You spend your time hitting on my brother, then turn around and flirt with a shopkeep, and then you go put the moves on my boyfriend! No, in fact, you're more than pathetic! In fact, you're a whore! A fat whore who can't do anything but hit on guys that don't like you!" Amber took a breath.

I took that opportunity to fly in on her like a vulture. "Okay, listen here, Blondie," I said exasperatedly. I crossed my arms. "I'm sorry if I happen to be friends with your brother. I'm sorry that I think Leigh is a good guy. I'm sorry if you've deluded yourself into thinking Castiel's your boyfriend. And I'm sorry you can't stand that someone like me is upstaging you in a play I didn't know existed. And guess what else? I am so goddamn sorry you need to make others feel bad about themselves to make yourself feel good about yourself. Because you know what that means? It means you know you're a selfish bitch who can do shit by herself and on her own without making others feel bad. It means you're an asshole and you know it. It means you know you won't have any friends unless you intimidate them. And I feel sorry for you andeveryone who's ever had to come in contact with you." I glared at her. "Now, excuse me!" I shouted, pushing past her and stomping into the council room.

Nathaniel and his student body friends were working something out about the fundraiser: Whether or not to make it a boy vs girl thing. I was going to ask him if he'd seen Kiki when I spotted the dog's collar on the floor next to a chair leg. I went over to pick it up and went out of the room again, leaving in my wake a confused student body government.

Kiki Clue number two.

I found the third one with no confrontation or anger. I was walking around the bushes, wondering if perhaps she'd fallen asleep in the shade. It was the green squeaky toy. I sat on the inch tall brick fence and squeaked it, the high-pitched sound was oddly calming—it stopped me from trying to kill the next person to look at me funny. Squeak…squeak…squeak… My knuckles were turning white, nails digging into my palm. Squeak…squeak…squeak… My breathing was slowing. Squeak…squeak…squeak. Two creamy paws landed on my knee, the undersides soft. Squeak…squeak…squeak… Kiki's tongue lolled out from the side of her muzzle; she looked absolutely entranced. I smiled. Squeak…squeak…squeak… I unraveled the collar and leash from my forearm and clicked it close around her furry neck. She jumped onto my lap. I laughed and dug my face into her white neck fur. I praised her for a second, thanking her for finally popping up.

I'd missed lunch and all the classes since then. All I had left was art. Which was my favorite. It struck me how I hadn't seen Iris or any of the other girls all day. I'd been surrounded by guys all day. I needed a feminine touch today.

I went into the principal's office and placed Kiki on her velvet pillow, saying not so much as a word to Mrs. Wan Gong. I just nodded at her thank-yous and walked into art class, damn glad people were just getting their canvases ready. I set up next to Violette, mixing my colors with a sigh.

"Where've you been all day?" she asked silently. It was the firs time I'd heard her talk. Her voice was soft, like cotton.

"The principal lost her dog and made me spend all day looking for it," I answered exasperatedly. I drew in the theater masks, happy and sad. Violette let out a low ah, and started sketching out background. I started with vines and roses. Faceless ballerinas in the corner. Then I started to paint the woman's eyes blue. It took me a while to get the shading just right on the painting, and that time unknotted the muscles in my back. I would stop every now and then, watching Violette's face as she drew. It was serene and comforting, silent. Everything I wasn't right now. It made me grin, how different we were; just like Sarah and I. Everyone here was so pale. I guess that happened when you were so far away from the beach; it was like three hours away.

I started up with the girl's skin with a grin on my face.

:: ::

I went to Aunt Sarah's house and texted Leigh. I'd done exactly nothing yesterday and had exactly nothing to do today. What better way to spend my time than getting fitted for a corset? Leigh told me to come over in ten minutes and that's what I did, crossing a few streets to enter his store. It was nice in there, with the smell of lilac and roses. Sarah had brought me in here to buy a pair of pajamas the first day I was here. Everything was vaguely familiar. Girls looking through racks, guys begrudgingly holding their purses. The usual. Leigh was behind the counter, leaning on his elbow. That was rather surprising; I'd expected him to be helping girls pick out the best-fitting shirts. He offered me a half smile.

"Hey," I said, waving a two finger salute at him.

Leigh nodded at me and called for a guy named Lysander. The guy with the heterochromia who sat next to Castiel. He was wearing Victorian clothes too, with a ruffled collar and vest. "Lysander, this is Alise; Alise, this is my brother Lysander," Leigh said. I knew there'd been some resemblance. I stuck my hand out to shake his; Lysander was slow to shake mine, quick to pull it away. "Man the register while I get her lengths."

When Lysander nodded, Leigh led me through a curtained arc into a room with a three-sided mirror on a pedestal. A silver-haired girl sat there, reading a book: Remember Me. "Ooh," I said, walking in to stand next to her. "That's a really good book, I loved it."

She closed it and smiled up at me. She stood up and extended her hand to me. "I'm Rosalya," she said. She was really tall, and her hair was really long. Her eyes were a glimmering golden color.

I took her hand and shook it. "I'm Alise."

Rosalya nodded. "As I suspected," she said, "you're pretty." I knitted my eyebrows together. She smiled widely, closing her eyes in the process. "He's gonna ask you to take your shirt off." She laughed, eyeing Leigh. Leigh turned a bright red. "I'm going to have to ask you to keep your breasts inside your bra and not stand so straight."

I rose a brow. "And you weren't gonna buy me dinner first?" I asked Leigh. "Aren't you a bit cocky?"

Rosalya laughed. Leigh flushed red. He cleared his throat. "I really do need you to take your shirt off though. I need undisturbed measurements," he told me, trying to be professional while his ears burned scarlet. Rosalya pointed from her eyes to mine in the famous I'm watching you signal. I laughed as I lifted my shirt over my head, exposing a black bra. I should be uncomfortable; I wasn't. If I were in a bikini, I'd be showing off more than this bra did.

"Don't stare too long," Rosalya teased, though Leigh was getting his measuring tape already. He gave her a fake, dry laugh. Rosalya turned to me. "Keep still and try not to breathe. If you do, he'll just use the tape to choke the air out of you."

I made a gurgled sound. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

Leigh came back to wrap the measuring tape around my waist. "It isn't," he said monotonously. He tightened the tape around me until the edges sliced into my skin, making me suck my stomach in tighter to keep from having it cut into me. "See?"

"Okay," I gasped breathlessly, "I see."

Leigh smirked at me.

"I'm going to read my book," Rosalya announced, holding her book up, "you better not be making out with my poor, unsuspecting boyfriend when I look up."

I gasped in a breath when Leigh let up on the measuring tape. "He almost air-drowned me—no trouble there, Rosalya."

She rose a long, thin brow. "So you're saying he's pretty?" she accused teasingly.

I shrugged. "Don't know how that connects, but yeah," I admitted. "Your boyfriend's handsome."

Rosalya laughed. "If you'd stuttered a no, I'd be worried about you," she said, and dived into her book.

Leigh took a deep breath and measured the length of my torso. We must be wearing down on his masculinity.

:: ::

Okay. So, my laptop broke down and I don't know when I'm going to get it back, so I won't be updating as much, seeing as I'm writing this on my iPod and editing it on the family desktop. Do not kill me. I like life. I stayed up all night writing this, because inspiration took over and I couldn't help myself. It is 5:30 as I write this on Friday, August 24, 2012—my birthday. My birthday. My birthday. Do you not get this? It is my 14th birthday right now as I type this and I expect thousands of reviews; I don't want "happy birthday," I want "this part was my favorite," "I liked so-and-so," "You should do so-and-so." Do me that favor.

Goodbye and good reading.