It was hard warning Miss Pinky Gauthier. She didn't like listening to others if it meant not getting her way, and seeing as she was rather rebellious when it came to class orders, it was difficult convincing her what wouldn't be good for her.

When it came to material possessions, she was given what she wanted when she wanted it, and if not when she wanted it, she'd cry and whine until she obtained it. The majority of the things she wanted were material, so that was easy for her. But with things that dealt with other people, she was in a bit of trouble since crying didn't always work.

She soon figured that out and resorted to having other people do those things for her instead.

Back in elementary school, she would always order me to pull Chad off of the monkey bars when she wanted to climb, or push the poor kids out of line for the ice cream truck so she could get the best pick. In all honesty, I really didn't mind. I didn't enjoy doing things for her, but I wasn't complaining either. I suppose I was used to it by that point.

That was all fine and good back then. Monkey bars, ice cream trucks; it was all child's play.

She seldom asked me to do things like those for her during our high school years. As much as I hated to admit it, I was small and hard to take seriously. Instead she'd order around Derby, since he was her cousin and had the most money, or Bif with all of his brawn, and once or twice, Hopkins, because I guess he was easy to manipulate.

Derby paid for her grades in class, Bif took care of anyone who bothered her. I'm not exactly sure what Hopkins had ever done, but it must have been very nice since she used to speak rather highly of him during freshman year.

But there were some things not even Derby, Bif, or Hopkins would do for her, mostly because she couldn't ask. It wouldn't be right for a girl of her high social caliber. But also because they likely wouldn't follow through and help her.

Ever since the end of eighth grade, she'd been telling me, and only me, that she dreamed of meeting and losing her virginity to a poor boy.

Virginity was an absolutely ridiculous concept in its own right, but to sleep with a poor boy? That was unspeakable.

She was always so eager to meet poor boys because of this. Our movie date that previous Saturday left me terrified, and it wasn't just nicotine withdrawal-induced paranoia. That Gurney was such a sleazy looking man, and Pinky seemed quite fond of him. Sure, he acted charming and polite, but that was how poor people lured respectable women into their traps. They seduced them, wrapped them around their fingers, and left them out in the cold once they had gotten what they wanted. That Gurney would surely be no exception.

Plus, let's not forget here, the man had to be at least twenty-something, and Pinky was still a mere fifteen. That was not okay. She was a child, and he was an adult. Of course, that wouldn't matter to pieces of trash like those Townies, or a teenage girl with a crush, and that's where my fear came from.

Pinky was such a close friend of mine, and I worried I couldn't protect her. The poor people of Bullworth were such dirty, vile things, loaded with all sorts of diseases and violent intentions no matter what front they put on. I knew Pinky was a self-assured girl, and I respected that and her right to make her own decisions. But I would never let myself live it down should anything ever happen to her.

Despite everything, I forced myself to believe that she would be alright, more because the worrying was wearing me out. Pinky was a smarter than that, wasn't she?

Of course she was.

Sundays were recuperation days for us Preps. Calming down and relaxing from the weekend, preparing ourselves for the hellish school week to come. Normally I'd treat myself to a shopping trip in Old Bullworth Vale or watch boxing matches down at Glass Jaw for the afternoons. That particular Sunday, however, I instead decided to go for a bike ride around Bullworth Town.

It was such a pleasant day that day, a casual polo and shorts sort of day. The air was invigorating, golden beams of sunlight glowing against my skin. Many other Bullworth children decided to take advantage of the fabulous weather as well. The Nerds hung around outside of their beloved Dragon's Wing, the Greasers near the bike shop, other assorted Bullworth students cavorting throughout the town. My fellow Preps normally stuck to Old Bullworth Vale, so I didn't pass any of them during my ride.

I didn't expect to pass any of them, at least.

But when I caught a glimpse of a tall brunette girl in an argyle sweater vest near the old movie theater, I couldn't help but become curious.

I was riding by the hardware store when I spotted her out of the corner of my eye. She was a considerable distance away from me, so I didn't let myself jump to any conclusions. I stared for a moment from atop the seat of my bike, my feet on the ground holding me in place. I watched as she appeared to speak to someone behind the building that I couldn't see from where I was. She giggled, and scurried down the alley behind the theater.

I paused to think for a moment. Pinky had no reason to be so close to New Coventry, and there certainly wasn't anyone in this part of town she'd need to speak with. But the girl I saw looked awfully similar to her.

I shook the thought from my head. That was preposterous. Pinky, all the way out here, talking to someone? I could have laughed at myself for even considering it. She was smarter than that.

Of course she was.

I hadn't realized I'd been sitting there in the middle of the road. Several car horns and angry shouts snapped me out of my thoughts. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to pedal off in the brunette's direction. I mean, surely it wouldn't be Pinky, but...

...I just needed to verify.

I paused before pedaling behind the theater, staring down the alley, taking it in. It was very dark and discomforting. Being there, alone and vulnerable, sent chills up my spine. No classy young lady should ever have to come down this way. It was long and shadowy, like a black blanket cloaking the lane, obscuring my ability to make out figures even on a sunny day like this one.

As much as I wanted to turn back, I didn't allow my fear to get the best of me. Ignoring the blood pounding in my ears and sweat beading on the back of my neck, I forced myself to pedal at a slow pace down the alley.

The girl was no longer in my line of sight. Parallel to the alley, there was a staircase leading into the back of the old theater that she could have gone in. Actually, there were many buildings she could have gone into up that way. I hesitated. Hopefully I hadn't lost her. That would have been absolutely terrible. A disembodied giggle sounded from the end of the corridor, startling me a bit. That must have been her. A sigh of relief, and I pedaled in the voice's direction.

As sure as I was that it wouldn't be Pinky, I prepared myself to find her as I made my way down the dark alley. What was I going to say to her? Pinky, you shouldn't be wandering around dark alleys speaking to people. Yeah, that was good. Though she'd likely accuse me of sounding like her father. Then I'd confront whoever it was she had spoken to. Hopefully they wouldn't be much larger than me.

The end of the alley was approaching, but still no sign of that girl. This wasn't good. What if she had been kidnapped? Who knew what could have happened to her. I couldn't breathe. My throat was too tight. I cursed myself, my breath shallow and tears welling in my eyes. This was awful. This was utterly terrible beyond description.

I needed to find her.

Rounding the corner into the parking lot behind the police station, thankfully, I could see her again, heading down the alley near the health center with a certain hop in her step, as though she were excited. That was so Pinky. (Although, of course, it wasn't Pinky.) I had to be quick; I wasn't sure how much time I had left until something bad happened to her. I followed, pedaling as fast as I could while keeping my eyes on her as she made her way across the street.

I wasn't paying attention to where my bike was taking me. I was far too focused on that girl for my own good. It was so abrupt. One moment I was watching her, and the next I was on the pavement. It was almost as sudden as if I had blinked. My vision just went black. I was sure I had died.

"Hey, Gord," came a voice from above. My head was spinning and throbbing; I couldn't think straight. Absolutely absurd as it may sound, I thought it was the voice of some angel. "Look out!" The voice laughed.

I gave myself a moment to examine my surroundings, objective momentarily forgotten. I was lying back down on the ground, my bike a few feet away from me. I must have hit a wall or something and fell off. Ridiculous, Gord.

I found the strength to push myself onto my feet, legs swaying as I held my head still. Anyone who has ever seen a cartoon where the character gets hit and the stars spin around their head would get the idea.

I looked up towards where the voice sounded from. I was pretty sure at this point that it wasn't an angel.

Duncan grinned and gave me a casual nod. I was rather confused. He was just... just sitting there on the roof of the barber shop, legs dangling over the alley, nonchalantly taking turns between puffing on a cigarette and drinking from a bottle of Beam Cola. On the roof. By himself.

I must have been dead.

I had to squint a bit to make sure it was really him, and as I guessed, it was. How wonderful. "What... What are you doing here?" I asked. It was odd that I'd run into Duncan here alone. I was under the impression that Townies only left their turf in groups at night. He was one of the last people I wanted to see.

He shrugged. "Sitting. Smoking." Then he grinned. "Watching you fall off your bike."

"And you couldn't have warned me before I hit the wall?"

"I said look out." He chuckled. "You just hit it too soon."

I groaned to myself. Duncan was so bothersome. I had more important things to deal with than Townie trash.

"What the hell were you looking at?"

Across the street was the girl I had seen earlier, only now was I entirely certain that it was not Pinky. She was an adult woman with wrinkles and a sun damaged complexion, speaking and giggling with an elderly gentleman. Her sweater vest was definitely not Aquaberry. It looked old and the hem was fraying. I had to give her credit, however. From a distance she really did appear to be Pinky.

"Um..." I sighed, bringing my hand to my forehead. "Nothing." Perhaps I should have trusted my friend more.

I looked down at my bike, its back wheel still spinning. The front tire was bent and at a rather unnatural angle, perpendicular to where it should have been. Fantastic. What was even worse was the fact that this could have been avoided had I not been so worried about Pinky.

"Your bike isn't lookin' too good, Rich Boy." He hopped down the stairway, making his way over to my side.

"Yes, I can see that." I sighed, rubbing my temples. This wouldn't be cheap to repair. "My father is sure to be furious with me. I just had it repaired last month!"

Duncan laughed. "You gotta stop running into things, bro." Another swig from his bottle and puff on his cigarette. He epitomized trash.

I glared. The nerve of him. I was so ready to give him a second black eye at that point. "Listen, Trash Heap, I have more important things to deal with at this moment than you. So please, just leave."

He smirked. "You can't tell me to leave, Rich Boy. I was here first."

I grunted. "Why are you here, anyways? Shouldn't you be at home sleeping in your trailer, or something?"

He stepped closer to my face, as he had that night I punched him. "None of your business."

I narrowed my eyes. He had some nerve. "Are you asking me to assault you again, pauper?"

He laughed. "Dude, my friends punch me in the face all the time. I don't even care anymore."

Hmph, poor people.

Of course, I wasn't ready to hit him just yet, seeing as though he could be of some assistance to me. "Tell you what, Duncan. I promise not to hurt you if you assist me with my bike." It was partially his fault that I fell, after all. He owed me help.

He smiled as though highly amused, showing his crooked teeth. "Sounds fair."

"Good." I sighed. This was likely to be expensive, and my father was likely to be upset with me, but my bike needed to get repaired. "Help me take this to the shop."

He scoffed, waving his arm as if I was being ridiculous. "Pfft, you don't need some bike shop. I got a friend who can fix it for free."

A friend? For free?

He smiled, but I wasn't entirely sure if I liked the sound of that.