HOLA!

Thanks to all my reviewers, y'all ROCK. Everyone's just been so nice about my story, so thank you all so, so MUCH! Peace.

Disclaimer: Yeah. If you recognise them, not mine guys. Not mine. If they were, I wouldn't still be going to school. Duh.

Ha! Here in New Zealand, we're only up to the second season of Gilmore Girls (which I LOVE,) and Rory and Dean are NO MORE! Yeah! I never liked Dean; he was such a push over. He was a wimp. And now Rory is FREE! Bring on Jess. Someone tell me how many seasons there are, and who Rory ends up with! Please?

ANYWAY.

A whole new chapter!

Im kind of mirroring "Haunted/Grave doubts" a little here, it's got phrases and situations that I've just shifted and played around a little with. You have been told.

Lookout PFCers / Slater fan Clubbers, a little Paulie and Nick bashing in this chapter. It was really FUN to write.

So TA DA!

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GUESS WHO?

"Hello! Earth to Melinda!"

"I didn't do it! I wasn't even there ok!" I cried, lifting my head from my arms.

Arabia looked at me strangely.

We were outside the mission, seated at one of the many tables surrounding the missions beautiful courtyards.

Where I had apparently . . . fallen asleep.

Yeah.

Oops.

Thank god the guys hadn't yet been released from their respective lunch detentions. Mascara down my face wouldn't look too bad or anything. Alannah handed me a mirror. She knows me too well. I was surprised to see my face looked fine. I could lie about falling asleep and not get pulled up.

Now days I always check up on any evidence contrary to my lies. ESPECIALLY after . . .

You know what? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

The mass of students emerging from the archway in front of us—most of them masculine—signalled the end of lunch detentions.

"Hey Guys." Arabia greeted warmly as the group of all her guy friends joined us.

"H-h-hey" said Alannah nervously. Males tend to make her nervous. It's cute actually.

"Hey Melinda!" One of the guys greeted me enthusiastically.

"Whatever. Why are you here anyway? I didn't know any of us liked you. When did this change?"

He muttered an apology and walked away.

"Melinda!" Arabia whined at me, "Why do you have to scare all of them away? He didn't do anything to you!"

"I saw him hit Billy Wells yesterday."

What? I did! He shouldn't be so mean to the geeks of our society! Ever heard of BILL GATES!

One day he's going to regret the day he messed with little Billy. I would see to it myself if he had to.

"Ever the humanitarian." Said Alannah, smiling briefly.

"Yeah" I said, "Well, what he's going to have to learn someday is that—" I broke off to scowl at a certain passer by.

Arabia caught the direction of my glare. "Oh that's right. I forgot to ask you Melinda, why was Nick at your house last night anyway?"

One of Arabia's male friends whistled "Nice going Melinda! How'd you Bag—"

"One more word, and I'll shove that salt shaker down your throat." I threatened Menacingly. "And I don't think the 'Ladies' would like that too much."

He shut up.

Quickly too. I sighed and turned my Back on the offending group, Nick and all his little minions, and took a sip from the can of TAB in front of me, as we began to brainstorm Ideas for our next scheduled walkout. I felt a tap on my right shoulder and as I swung my head around to my right to see who dared touch me, I felt someone sit down beside me on my left.

"So," said Nick's voice. "How are you this morning Melinda, dearest?"

I reached for the Salt shaker, only to find it removed from under my fingertips and placed out of my grasp. Alannah the anti-confrontationalist. I turned to Nick and demanded, "What do you want now? Haven't you done enough?"

"No Melinda, quite the contrary in fact. I'm here to invite you around to my place after school today to . . . inform you of your present situation."

Whistles.

"No." I said shortly.

"Melinda" he drawled, looking completely at ease with the situation, "Would you dive in to a river without first checking what might be under the water first? No you wouldn't would you?"

He's right. I wouldn't. But I'd sure as hell push him in.

"This is similar. Your barley scratching the surface of your talents, you have no idea the trouble you are leaping into."

"Whoa. How far did you go with him?" Asked Arabia's boyfriend Scott dumbly.

"I DID NOT—!" I screeched, immediately on the defensive.

"Perhaps we should take this elsewhere?" suggested Nick easily.

"Not on your life mate. Absolutely not." I looked around and then sighed reluctantly. "Fine. Where will I meet you after?"

He looked pleased. "The gates. Be on time or I'll leave without you."

"Whatever." I mumbled.

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I lied. I wasn't going to meet him. I mean, despite ample evidence to the contrary, Im not stupid.

I wasn't going to meet him. I wasn't.

And then I did.

Well I needed to know didn't I?

As much as it pains me to admit it, I needed Nick. I did. And it was killing me.

He pulled up in this sweet little number, it was dark shiny blue, and it looked flash. I have no idea what it was, but I knew it was expensive.

He leaned over and opened the passenger seat door for me. And I got in.

"Hows that Melinda," he greeted me, "Ever think you'd be getting into a car with me?" It sounded like he was gloating slightly.

"No." I said shortly, acutely aware of how we looked together. "Could you just drive please?"

"Sure thing."

So we were in silence for at least 2 minutes, and I was just finishing up with my little pep talks, ' . . . Melinda, its no bid deal, just going to find out what he knows about the murder . . .' And so on.

Then Nick had to be all; "So Melinda, Nasty stuff between you and Brian, Shame how that turned out. You deserve better."

I knew it! I knew he didn't want to help me or warn me! Guys like him ALWAYS have a hidden agenda. Like my mouth. "Really?" I said, my tone acid. "And who'd you have in mind Nick?"

"Well" he drawled.

"Oh please." I scoffed. "I've said it once, I'll say it again, I'm not interested Nick. Not interested. I would have thought someone as intelligent as you would have figured that out by now."

"Yes." He said, "and I would have thought someone as clever as yourself would have concluded by now, that I'm not one to give up easily."

Oh have I ever. I mean, what was this guy's problem? There are a lot of gorgeous girls at the mission, whom Nick could have with a lot less trouble.

Nick smirked at me, then leant over me to turn the radio up.

Hmm, Pussycat dolls; 'Stick wit u'.

"You look a lot like her you know" Nick said to me, flashing me a smile, then turning his attention back to the road.

"Who Nick?" I said tiredly. I mean, why had I even agreed to this?

"That Pussy cat dolls singer. You know, the main one. You two could pass for sisters."

"Whatever." I grumbled, in no mood for pleasantries.

"She has a great ass." Nick said thoughtfully.

I glanced sharply at him, and I saw him still focusing intently at the road, a hint of a smirk playing around his mouth.

I pretended to ignore him, but that only made his smirk grow.

Someone needs to tell him he's not funny. No really. He seems to think he his and he's all—

"We're here."

Whoa. No, seriously, Whoa. SOMEONE'S a bit of a RICH BITCH. No names Nick.

Seriously, It was HUGE. There was just a lot of this cream colour, right by the sea, huge big windows and 2 FRIGGING STORIES. And this huge frigging veranda framed the whole thing.

It was Beautiful. For some reason I'd been expecting a huge grey glass thing.

(A/N: I know, I know. Someone need's to tell me Im not funny either.)

I saw several cars in the driveway, a little red convertible and this big black thing. It was a little intimidating to tell you the truth.

"Dad, Mary and the maid are all here," Nick said to me, "in case you're suffering any feminine misgivings about coming to my house.

Yeah. After all my parents fussing about Slater senior, I was a little wigged out. I mean, I met him once at school, and that was for a few seconds, he just over heard me threatening someone and said I got that from my mother, then walked off down the corridor. I said something to Stacy about drugs and he over heard and gave this evil little chuckle. That was it. And then all that fuss last night?

But what if the maid and this Mary chick were there? By the way, Mary? Who the hell was Mary? Hadn't heard of her before. Nick has a sister maybe that was her? I didn't hear anything about HER being able to talk to the dead.

I followed Nick into the house and was almost knocked over by these two blonde whirls, and I heard a high pitched "hey Nick honey! Just taking Sarah to cheerleading! I'll see you when we get back!" the door was slammed shut and they were gone.

"Unreal" I muttered. Then to Nick I added, "Was that Mary?"

"Yeah." He said, "and the other blur was my sister."

"Mary's not your sister?"

"God not you as well. Mary isn't my sister, Mary is my father's current wife and my step mom." He said. He sounded a little sour, which was kind of weird. I mean, Nick's one of those people that just makes you think they have the PERFECT lives. The people you hate on first sight.

"Alarming." I said as we walked down the huge hallway.

"Very. Now, shall we? My rooms up there—"

"Nick." interrupted a voice. I span around and saw a man standing in what looked like the doorway of an office, a man who could have only been Nick's father, a certain Mr Paul Slater.

"You weren't going to whisk this young lady past me were you now? This must be Melinda Simon." he phrased it like a question, but it wasn't. It was a statement.

"Melinda de Silva" I said, taking the proffered hand and shaking it, placing heavy emphasis on the de Silva.

(A/N: HAHAHAHA!)

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"And what's that supposed to—"

"Will you do me the honour of joining myself and Nick for a drink miss Melinda?"

Wait. How'd that happen, I thought we were—oh. Clever.

The whole rhetorical question thing. Hence we had been conned into having a drink. My Grandfather sometimes does that; he always wants us to try his latest culinary creation. But Andy didn't give of the 'Satan's spawn aura' like this guy did.

"Of course" I said with a smile and allowed Nick to lead me into what looked like a lounge, if lounges can look that clean and still be called lounges.

"Martha!" Slater's voice rung out around the huge cream, plush room, "We have guests, fetch drinks would you?"

Martha must be the maid. She arrived, and I was gob smacked. Forget the grey hair coiled into a bun at the nape of the neck, this maid was pretty REALLY pretty, with short, cropped, spiky dark hair, and a pretty, elfish like face, even if it was marred slightly by a scowl. And an apron.

"And what will you have." She asked sulkily.

God what IS IT with people around here, stating their questions instead of asking them? IT WAS A LITTLE BIT IRRITATING TO TELL THE TRUTH.

"Irish spring water for me," said Slater, "Melinda? Nick?"

"Im fine." I said quickly.

"Melinda," he said with a drawl just like Nick's, "I insist. Diet coke like your mother?"

"TAB if you have it." I said to the snotty looking maid.

My mother's the Diet coke-addict. Personally I prefer Tab. But it beats me how Slater even knew about Mom and her Diet coke.

"Sprite." Said Nick.

The Maid left to go and get the drinks, "God," I said abruptly to Nicks father, "What the hell is her problem?"

Slater smiled, eyes glinting, "Martha's a . . . friend of mine. Im helping her . . . kick-start her career."

Something told me there was more to it than that. My mind immediately jumped to blackmail stories and murder cover-ups.

This was crazy. All this pleasant crap. It was pointless. So I decided to jump right in. "So, Slater. What do you want, and I swear to gad make any remark about the weather—"

"Now Melinda, I'm just eager to get to know Suze Simon's only daughter. Is that so wrong of me? Im sure your mothers told you how . . . close we were as teens."

"Not really." I said nonchalantly, and then, knowing it would probably irritate him I said, "in fact, she mentioned you once only to say how you were a user and a psychopath."

It didn't. He only smirked.

"Same old Suze Simon then."

"Not quite. She's married now. Her last Name is de Silva."

And still, he just sat there teasingly, taunting me with ice blue eyes. He really was handsome. It was just pissing me off how I couldn't get anything other than a smirk or a cool smile out of him.

"My mistake. How is Jesse? Wishing me dead as usual?"

Huh? Dad wants this guy dead? That's not very nice of him. It's wrong to want to kill people. But as this was Paul Slater;

BRILLIANT.

"I'm not sure, he and Mom are very much still in love, they've been married 18 years, and still act like newlyweds. I don't think he cares any more."

THERE! Just a flash! Something like resignation! Either that or he choked, I DON'T KNOW!

"Sure." He said calmly, making me believe the resignation had been a figment of my imagination. "Now, if the good father is correct, you recently found out about your shifter abilities . . .? "

"Yes." I said shortly, not exactly sure where this was going.

"And Nick brought you back here to show you some old thesis's written by his late grandfather Dr Oliver Slaski. Am I right."

Again with the question/statement thing! He KNEW he was right, why bother even asking?

"Yes.' I repeated.

"So you need Nick. However much you may pretend otherwise. I bet Nick had to really persuade you to come over here, because you're too stubborn to admit how you really feel, and you'll just keep on denying it." He smiled at me, "Am I right?"

"No!" I burst indignantly, "And what do you mean 'how I really feel', wouldn't I be a better judge of how I feel rather than you?"

"But I know who's daughter you are Melinda. I know your Mother well, and you're a lot like her." He looked at Nick, "And Im willing to bet that the current situation between yourself and Nick is similar to that of myself and Suze a few years ago."

"You mean Mom used to hate your guts too?" I said innocently, not missing a beat.

I knew what he was implying. A lot more things make sense now, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

"No. You know what I mean."

There goes that strategy. I wonder if my 'look something shiny!' line still holds any punch? Although it was getting a little ridiculous when that was my last resort.

I got to my feet and started searching for my handbag.

"OK. As lovely as this chat has been I need to go now. So I bid you all—"

"Melinda." Slater chided, "Wouldn't it be a better idea to get what you came for?"

"You want to know what I came here for? I came here because Nick INSISTED I heard what he had to say, that I was in supposedly in danger, and because I don't exactly want my FRIENDS knowing I can see and speak to the DEAD, I don't want my mother to FLIP out at the thought of me being in that so called danger, and I don't want my father to THROW NICK OUT A WINDOW, I came here."

"See? You must like Nick a little or else you would have let him." Sais Slater, sounding a little bit triumphant.

"This is INSANE! You are IMPOSSIBLE—!"

"Melinda, sit down." Said Nick.

"No. As soon as I find my handbag I will be out of here—" I broke off as Nick held up my Handbag.

"Give me my bag."

"No."

"Nick."

"No."

"WHAT THEN?"

"I didn't want you around here so my father could torment you—"

"Oh well THAT worked out nicely didn't it!"

"You really are in trouble, you need to know, well, things that you don't know now. I didn't know dad would decide to hold old grudges—" Nick stood up and took one of my hands in his.

"Fine. What. Say what you have to say, then let me go, or I'll hit you." I said, wrenching my hands out of his.

"It's not that simple Melinda, I cant just—"

"I'll hit you hard."

"Be reasonable Melinda!"

"Im being perfectly reasonable! It's you who's still hanging on to my bag, refusing to let me leave!"

"You cant just make thing's simple can you?" he said angrily.

More fool for him. He has NO IDEA how hard I can hit. Although, Im pretty sure he could hit just as hard. But I'll just have to take my chances then wont I?

"Letting me have my bag would be PERFECTLY SIMPLE thank you very much!" I snapped back at him.

"Listen to me Melinda."

"I already told you! Just say it!"

"I cant just TELL you how yo use your Shifter abilities!"

"My shifter abilities?" I said Blankly, "As in power? Well why didn't you SAY SO!"

Nick let out a frustrated groan.

"¡el su cruzar para un muchacho de contusión!" I said angrily.

"Melinda I cant speak Spanish!"

"I know that! So that's just too damn bad for you!" I said triumphantly. Petty I know, but I loved insulting Nick and watching him try to figure out which insult I was using today.

Pity my victory was to be so short lived. I'd completely forgotten about Nicks father. And even if I had remembered, I didn't know that he could speak Spanish.

"Nick," said Slater, "I'd watch out for her if I were you son, she just told you, in Spanish, that you were cruising for a bruising."

Busted. Cliché? Absolutely. But entirely relevant.

I muttered at Nicks father, "Asno-de-gato."

"I heard that too Melinda. And you shouldn't tell future boyfriends fathers that they are jackasses, it might start you off on the wrong foot, and if you want to date my son im afraid you have to be nice to me."

He couldn't be serious. The Bitch! He was only translating everything I said so Nick could understand, Speaking of which . . .

"Oh really? Well I DON'T want to 'date' your son ok? In fact I would like nothing more than if your son was to drop off the face of the earth."

Slater Senior looked at Slater Junior, and said sardonically "Young love."

I just stood there, astonished, until coming to my senses; I grabbed my bag off an unsuspecting Nick and stormed out.

Passing on my way, the Maid Martha, smoking and tipping what looked like cigarette ash into Slater Seniors Irish water. I paused, and then grinned at her. She saw that I'd spotted her and she winked back.

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"Im home!" I called, just in case anyone else was. No one.

Alannah and Arabia followed me upstairs, as I'd managed to strand myself just down the road from Nicks, on seventeen-mile drive.

I called Alannah to come and pick me up, and she brought Arabia. They pulled up outside this café, the sea mist café I think it was called, where this rude bartender, whose nametag said 'Jorge', practically threw me out after scathingly allowing me to use the payphone. Seriously. I don't know why the world has to be populated with so many unpleasant people, I really don't. It takes a lot more effort to frown than it does to smile.

My kindergarten teacher said so.

When Alannah pulled up, she and Arabia found it entirely necessary to have a good laugh at me, which surprisingly, made me feel better.

I don't know how that worked.

But I felt about 20 times more cheerful getting out of that car than I did getting into it.

I pushed open my bedroom door and almost jumped out of my skin. Stacy was there, sitting out on my balcony, hovering just off the rail and swinging her legs. I jumped about a foot more when Arabia slammed the door behind me.

"Oh my god, cant you give me a little warning!" I shrieked at Stacy.

"Sorry," said Arabia confusedly, thinking I was talking to her.

Oh Dear. This had the potential to turn out extremely badly.

"Uh yeah. So um, have you guys heard that new song from . . . JoJo! What's it called . . . oh I know! Its 'leave! Get out!' But im sure um, JoJo meant it in the nicest um, way possible – "

"No Melinda. I've been thinking about this and I want you to tell them." Said Stacy.

"WHAT?" I asked incredulously, "Oh im glad you have unlimited leisure time in which to puzzle this out, but its not actually your ass on the line!"

"What are you on about Melinda?" asked Alannah nervously.

"Nothing Lana. I just had a thought, why don't we have go turn on the TV? DOWNSTAIRS."

I shot Stacy a warning glance and turned for the doorway, only to find her materialise in front of me, and say, "Oh No you're not." And then she slammed the door shut, and locked it.

Seriously. Our dead friend had just locked myself and two of my friends in my room.

Goodie.

We were trapped.

"Stacy!" I wailed, "Let us OUT!"

"Stacy? Hey . . . Melinda are you feeling all right?" said Arabia worriedly.

Well, would you call DEAD PEOPLE all right? 'Cause if so, well then im just damn peachy.

"Tell them." Stacy looked determined.

"No!" I yelled.

"Ok, we need to get her to a doctor, Alannah could you--?"

Stacy looked me straight in the eye and snapped her fingers. And everything flew off my dresser and my desk and crashed down onto the floor, causing bottles to break, ornaments to shatter, and nail polish to spill onto books.

Alannah shrieked.

"You are CRAZY! Do you know how long that's going to take me to clean up?" I yelled at Stacy, "And no frigging WAY am I telling them ANYTHING."

"Really?" Stacy said sweetly, and then levitated my mirror. "Tell them." She growled.

May I just say she'd managed to learn her ghostie powers REALLY well? Alannah and Arabia were still staring at the mess on my floor. They hadn't seen the mirror yet. If I could persuade Stacy to put down the mirror, and LEAVE, I might have a shot at convincing Arabia and Alannah that it was just the wind.

"Stacy—" I began.

Arabia turned round and spotted the mirror, screamed as she saw it seemingly hovering feet up in the air, all by it's self. She then she tugged on Alannah's sleeve, and she—Alannah—turned around and completely froze.

"Melinda, w-w-what's happening?"

Oh an evil, vindictive, spiteful, malicious, malevolent POLTERGEIST is at work! The artist formerly known as STACY.

Stacy grabbed (telekinetically) one of the lipsticks currently on the floor, and started writing on the mirror.

'IT'S ME.

STACY.'

"Stacy!" I yelled, "Was that REALLY necessary!"

Looks like the games up.

"She-she's here?" said Alannah incredulously.

"You can SEE her?" asked Arabia.

"Is she a ghost?"

"Can she hear us?"

"Is she ok?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why can you see her?"

"Are we hallucinating?"

"Are we dreaming?"

"Yeah, I think we're dreaming."

"Look at the mirror though."

"Pinch me."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

"The mirrors still floating."

"Pinch me again."

"No."

"Don't be a wimp, pinch me."

"Fine."

"Ouch! When I said pinch me, I didn't mean assault me!"

"Sorry."

"The mirror's still there."

"Why is the mirror still there?"

"I don't know."

"Are we going to wake up soon?"

"I don't think we're dreaming."

"We have to be dreaming."

"We're not dreaming."

"Why are you in my dream?"

"You're not dreaming."

"Well then why are you in my hallucination?"

"Im not in your hallucination."

"Yes you are."

"No Im not"

"Yes you are."

"No Im not because you're not hallucinating."

"Yes I am."

"No your not. I have bruises on my arm from where you pinched me."

"You can get bruises in hallucinations."

"No you cant."

"Do you get them in dreams?"

"No."

"Are you sure?'

"Yes."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Ask Melinda. Hey! Why is Melinda in my dream?"

"You're not dreaming."

"So your saying our best friend is a ghost—"

"Yes."

"—And our other best friend can see her—"

"Yes."

"—And you don't think this is a dream?"

"Yes."

"Weird."

"Yes.'

"How much coffee have I had today?"

"Too much."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"Can you get coffee induced hallucinations?"

"ITS NOT A HALLUCINATION!" Arabia bellowed.

"I think you're lying to me." Said Alannah.

I just stared at them. Truly. Arabia was rubbing her arm where Alannah had pinched her, and Alannah was staring blankly around the room, expecting to wake up any minute.

"Guys," I said, "Seriously. Shut up."

Stacy was sitting on my bed, her head in her hands.

"Do you see what you've done?" I asked her.

"It was a good Idea at the time." She groaned then looked up and gently eased the mirror down, and back onto its hook.

"Your dead Stace. EVERYTHING seems like a good idea to you."

'Your not funny Melinda."

(A/N: You see? Its just one big not-funny world.)

"I wasn't trying to be. I was being realistic. You have nothing to lose! Ihowever, am now destined for the funny farm!"

"Well they still needed to know!"

"No they didn't!" I yelled.

"Whoa." Said Arabia, "are you, like, talking to her now?"

"No. Im conversing with the EASTER-BUNNY, Who recently changed his name to 'STACY'. YES im talking to her." I think all this had put me in a bit of a bad mood. "Any requests?" I said bitchily.

"Is she ok?"

Trust Alannah. After all this, the first thing she wants to know is if Stacy's OK.

Arabia was more realistic. "Melinda, Hit her for me."

"Gladly."

"Melinda." Said Stacy warningly. "Stop it. This isn't getting us anywhere."

"No." I said and sat down beside her on the bed. "But it would sure make me feel better." And I shoved her off the end of the bed.

"Childish Melinda.' She said getting up.

"Why'd you do it?" asked Alannah softly.

"Long story." I said tonelessly. "Want me to abbreviate?"

Arabia Nodded.

"Well the guts of it is," I said maliciously, "Stacy here, was made to shoot herself by an old fat ghost! Ha! Isn't that NEAT? I bet that's the best camp side story you've ever heard!"

"Melinda." Stacy said quietly, "Don't be like that."

"Whatever. Why shouldn't I be? I mean, you wanted to tell them, it was your decision."

"Don't be mad Melinda," Said Alannah softly, "Its better we know. Thank you for telling us."

"Yeah." Agreed Arabia. "And I swear I wont call the papers."

"Oh you say that now, but wait until CNN get a hold of this."

"Melinda we would NEVER—"

"I was making a joke, Alannah." I said wearily.

"Oh."

"Look Stace, it was never going to be a good idea, them finding out—"

"I think it is, and I think you're being unreasonable." Stacy countered.

"How many times have I heard that today?" I mumbled.

"What?" asked Arabia, "hey, by the way you STILL haven't told us what Nick wanted last night, OR Today. All you said was you had an argument and walked out of the Slater manor. Stranding yourself."

"Melinda stranded herself? Ha, that would have been hilarious."

"Shut up Stacy. You don't know what you're talking about."

"What did she say?" asked Arabia.

"She said leg-warmers were coming back in."

"NO!" Arabia squealed incredulously. Funny how the idea of leg warmers coming back into style could cause her more distress than ghosts.

"Yep. Best hit the mall."

Even Stacy had to smile at that.

"But seriously Melinda, What did Nick want?" said Alannah.

"He can see ghosts too."

What? If I was going down he was going down with me.

"Who else can see them?"

"His Dad and his uncle." I said.

"Whoa. Anyone else?" asked Alannah.

"No-one." I replied. I mean, Nick was one thing, but I actually LIKE my Parents and Father D. I wasn't going to sell THEM out.

"Melinda." Stacy said warningly. "Im sick of lies. Tell them, or I will." She picked up the lipstick threateningly.

So I wouldn't. But Stacy would have no problem with it. It didn't affect HER anymore. I don't think she quite GETS that. But she was only going to do the mirror/lipstick thing again. And really, I didn't need another big Alannah/Arabia discussion.

"Fine." I grumbled. "My Mom, my Dad, Father D . . . "

"You mean your-your MOM? And your DAD? And, oh my god, FATHER DOMINIC?" Arabia sounded shocked. Wonder why. Oh I KNOW! Same reason I was!

What a coincidence.

"Look," I said to Stacy, "I don't know what made you think it was all going to work out if you told them, but that was your choice. All I want to do is get rid of this guy who hurt you. I don't personally don't see the attraction in being a walking side show."

Stacy opened her mouth.

"No really, you wanted them to know, you deal with the endless questions and the awkward looks. I'll just leave you three to chat."

And I pulled open the door and walked out.

"Umm, Melinda?" I heard Alannah call after me, "We can't actually hear her . . . "

"Shut up! Melinda's not in a good mood."

"I know that!"

"Then shut up!"

"But I want to talk to Stacy, and that's a little hard when I can't see or hear her!"

"Well that's just too damn bad."

"But I want to talk to Stacy!"

"I think we'd be better off talking to the wall."

"At least Stacy could hear us!"

"So can the wall."

"Why would you say that? I think you're being—"

"I was joking Alannah."

"Well it wasn't a very funny joke Arabia."

"Too bad. That's all im capable of at the moment Alannah."

"You're not funny Arabia."

"I never claimed to be!"

"Oh yes you do, you think you're just the—"

"Oh SHUT UP you two!" I heard Stacy moan. But as they couldn't hear her, they carried on.

"What? What do I think I am? Tell me your not going to finish that missy."

"You think you're just the-the . . . CATS PYJAMAS!"

"Oh yeah, well maybe I AM, little miss goodie two shoes!"

"Im wearing flats!"

"Its an expression!"

"You are so—"

"You're worse—"

"Am not—"

"Are too—"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"No you shut up!"

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Another one bites the dust.

Around 14 pages too, and granted, a lot of that was bickering, but what would this story be without bickering?

It would be even more ridiculous and silly than it all ready is.

REVIEW.

Yes, all you people who are just hittingon my story, pretty please review.

Adios!