Main Characters in the Story:

*Kim So Hyun as "Athena" Myung-hee Park

*Jake T. Austin as Michael De Soto

Minor Characters in the Story:

*Brenna D'Amico as Marilyn Rivera

*Michael Nyqvist as Mr. Hughes

Chapter XIX: And Go Where, Exactly?

~o~

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~o~

I have spent the past fifteen minutes of English class zoning out and playing around with my ring. The light keeps glinting off the blue surface of the gem, and it distracts me more than it should. It really is beautiful. I can't believe I am lucky enough to be its owner. I just find it so fascinating. I glance at it from time to time as I work on my little desk- drawing. It's Pikachu from Pokemon. I love this cute little one as much as I love Jiggly puff, Rowlet and mostly, the adorable Mimikyu.

"Athena." I ignore the voice. It's probably one of my stupid classmates trying to make fun of me again. I continue to work on L.S.P's arms. I am mostly good at drawing chibis. They always come out very cute.

"Athena!" they whisper again, more demanding this time.

"Yeah?" I reply loudly and mindlessly. I finish off one of the arms as quickly as possible, then look at the person trying to catch my attention.

Michael is giving me a wide-eyed look and nodding his head towards the front of the classroom.

I turn my head in that direction; my English teacher is staring at me, along with a good percentage of the class. He raises his eyebrows, clearly annoyed with me. Then again, when is he not?

I blush light red, my face heating up from the pressure of being put on the spot like this. I set my pencil down on the desk and redirect my attention to the teacher.

"Thank you." he says, and it just makes me want to punch him. Everyone in this damn class talks and ignores him, and he only calls me out every time.

I hear Michael laughing next to me, and I playfully hit him on his arm. It doesn't faze his amusement, but he does stop laughing about it. "Bored?" he asks me even though the answer's pretty clear.

I nod my head lazily and rub the drowsiness out of my eyes. It's already been four classes since the day started, and I am still exhausted. I stayed up late talking to Marilyn. I should not have done that. Now I feel like I am going to pass out.

"Athena." My teacher says, demanding my attention.

"Oh my God, Mr. Hughes! I am paying attention!" I glare at him. He's really getting on my nerves.

"It doesn't seem like it."

"Well, I don't need my eyes to hear you, so I don't know why you are calling me out."

"Because I'm teaching, and you're falling asleep? Or is that not rude to you?" he's lowered his book to his hip, which means shit is quickly escalating.

"And what if I don't?" I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. I am not looking to lose this fight just because my teacher wants to be an asshole.

"Another word and I'm calling security."

"You won't sir." Someone says. I think it came from J.J, the class instigator that always sits in the back with the other annoying people.

"You don't think so?" He answers J.J. He then returns his attention to me. He gives me a cold stare, challenging me to see if he just might do it.

I look at Michael, and he shakes his head "no" as subtly as possible.

Finally out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Hughes raise his book back to his regular height. He slides a hand into his pocket and continues pacing across the front of the classroom as usual, "Ridiculous." I hear him whisper almost inaudibly. Almost.

I hold down my anger as it twists my stomach around. I lick my lips, my tongue tingling with the urge to fight back. Michael's bits of advice have been keeping me under control lately. "It's not worth it." he would probably say that. But, as soon as he looks back down at his book, I turn my attention to Mr. Hughes. "Bullshit." I say, brave and loud.

In a speedy five minutes, I am being escorted down the hall by my favorite security guard, Barry. He's the first person I see when I get to school in the morning. But that's just because he's permanently posted by the school's front door to keep a close eye on the main entrance hall.

"What happened, now?" He asks. He looks at me through his dark, translucent black shades.

I just shrug. "I started rubbing my eyes a little, and he started yelling at me to stop falling asleep." I readjusted my bag as it tries to slip off my shoulder.

"So why am I bringing you to the office?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "I know you're leaving something out."

We turn left into the staircase and headed down to the next floor. "He told me if I said one more word, he will kick me out. So I said, 'Bullshit." And well, here I am."

He starts laughing his deep friendly laugh. I like that about him. Barry doesn't get mad, or angry. He just laughs everything right off. He is probably one of the mellowest guys I know. "Why tryin' to drove that man insane? He didn't do nothing to you."

"He is always blowing up my spot for no reason " Even though I whispered that, it was loud enough to echo through the stairwell. I lower my voice; no need to draw attention. "I could be hearing a million conversations going on around me, and he would still call me out, for like sneezing or something."

"So? As long as you know you weren't talkin', it doesn't really matter."

I groan, annoyed. I hate being told to just sit back and take other people's advice. It's not in my nature to be that way.

After passing about three other floors, we finally make it to the very end of the staircase. "This is not the right floor. The main office on the first floor." I quickly analyze our surroundings. "This is the fifth floor, Barry."

"I know." He pulls a little white notecard out of his back pocket. It's the one my teacher wrote his stupid complaint on. Barry tears the card in half, holding out in front of him so I can see it clearly.

"You are letting me go?" I say, surprised. It came out more as a question than a casual statement.

He sighs. "Yeah, I guess." He is definitely unsure of his decision (as if he shouldn't be). He knows it will happen again, so he probably knows this is a mistake. Still, he crumples up the ripped notecard pieces and shoves them into a pocket inside his jacket.

"You are officially my favorite security guard." That seems like a bit of a lie tome. He was already my favorite security guard even before he decided to do this for me.

"You lyin'." He replies. It's the same thing he says to everyone else that compliments him and claims him as their favorite. But we all know he's flattered. He just shows it with either sarcasm or sass.

I give him a friendly smile as a thank-you.

He returns the favor kindly. It's a little shocking because he hardly ever does something like that. "Alright. Get out of here before I change my mind." He turns away from me and starts up the steps.

I start walking in the opposite direction.

~o~

"So I heard you got kicked out of class third period." Marilyn says. She sits down across from me, setting her bag down next to her chair.

"How the hell did you hear that?" I ask as I write. I need to finish this last paragraph, and I will finally be finished.

"Barry told me. I was talking to him last period, and he mentioned that he saw you."

I try not to give a reaction of any kind. Geunyang duse munjang deo. Eoseo {Just a couple more sentences. Come on.} Suddenly, words stop flowing onto the paper, and my hand is frozen in place. Ani. Ani. Ani-yo! Gyeong-oe, eoseo! Naneun han munjang nam-assseubnida! Joh-a, eum ... {No. No. No! Awe, come on! I have one sentence left! Okay, um…} Ttalaseo Song Woo-bin- jogeumdo. Jalmosdoen munja. Geuleomeulo Tsukasa Doumyouji… eum… {Therefore, Song Woo-bin—damn. Wrong character. Therefore, Tsukasa Doumyouji… uh…}

"What are you doing, anyway?" Marilyn breaks the silence again. I hear a metal button click open.

I set my pen down in defeat. I might as well take a break; my mind's not doing anything for me. I cross my arms over my stomach and sit back in my chair. "I was writing an essay." The tone in my voice is equally as annoyed.

"Oh God. I am so sorry. I'm interrupting, aren't I?" Her head had shot up from her bag. She has the most fearful expression on her face that made me feel terrible.

"No, no. It had nothing to do with you." I use a calm voice this time. I don't want her to think I stopped what I was doing because of her. "I was pretty kick-ass roll. Now my mind's drawing a big sheet of blank."

"Oh. That really sucks. Is that the essay due for Englush?"

I give her curious look. "Yeah. How did you know that?"

"You told me this morning." She answers casually. She makes it sound as if it should be so obvious. But as soon as she sees my still-confused face, she understands that I really don't know what she is talking about. "In class?" She tries to remind me.

I am still confused, and I am sure I still look that way too.

"It was the first period, Thena." Finally, she just gives up trying to make me remember. She pulls an iPad with a bright pink leather case out of her bag, along with a bright pink keyboard to match. "I guess it's normal for someone not to remember something like that. I mean, it was five periods ago."

While she's talking to me. I am scanning and digging through my mind for that particular memory. Unfortunately, absolutely nothing comes up as a result, and it aggravates me. I let out an annoyed, prolonged groan and (so very lightly!) drop my head forward onto the table. "To be honest, I can hardly remember anything from before the halfway point of the last period." My voice was muffled by the table top an inch from my lips, but I am pretty positive Marilyn heard me.

And she definitely did. "Were you that tired today?"

"Today, yesterday, Tusday, Monday, Sunday, all of last week." I lift my head up from the table and look at her through half-closed eyelids. "I'm a freaking zombie."

"That… would be awesome. But not on your part. Is everything alright?"

I straighten up perfectly, but I have no strength to keep up the proper posture. I end up dropping into a slightly slouch posture and I am rewarded with that oh-so-wonderful pain in my back. "Just peachy." Is all I can manage to say right now.

"It's nothing between and you." She leans forward. "Tom, right?" she whispers his name as though it is a lethal thing to say. Actually, now that I think about it, probably is lethal around here.

I nod my head in response. "No. It has nothing to do with us. Or maybe it does. I do not even know. I just haven't…" Feeling drowsy again, I lean my face into my hands to hide a huge yawn. As soon as it's over, I continue with what I was saying. "I haven't been sleeping too well. I have no idea why."

"Are you nervous about something? Or stressed, maybe?" She seems to be trying to come up with a reason for my lack of sleep. It's nice that she is doing it, but I doubt she will be able to find anything. "Or maybe you're just eager to get to England! I know I would be."

"It can't be nervousness, or eagerness. Those kinds of things never really affect my sleeping habit. I know that for a fact. And when am I not stressed? I mean, honestly.

She shrugs. "Maybe that's your problem." She pushes an earbud into her ear; I didn't even see or hear her connect them to the iPad. "I think all that stress is finally starting to get you."

"Starting?" I repeat miserably. "You mean there's more to come?"

"Probably."

I don't even care this time; I drop my head down onto the table again. My forehead takes a strong impact with the polished wood, shaking every item on the table. "Wonderful." I mutter.

"Hey, Marilyn." Someone says out of nowhere.

"Hey, Michael." She sounds distracted as she greets him.

As for me, I stay exactly as I am. I hardly think another greeting is going to really matter to him.

"Hey, Athena." He says to me. The legs of a chair scrape against the carpeted floor as he pulls it out from underneath the table.

But, of course, he going to expect one. Too tired to make real words, I simply give one short groan in response.

"Um… is she okay?" Unless Marilyn somehow looks out of character, I assume he is asking Marilyn that question.

"She might be dead. I'm not quite sure."

You are way more than right, my friend.

"Let's hope not. I don't feel like being the one to carry out a dead body."

I snap my head up and glare at him through my narrowed eyes. "I am really feeling the love, Michael. I really am."

"I'm glad. Now, what the deal with you today? You looked like you were in shitty mood in Mr. Hughes' class today."

"I have always been like that with Hughes. He gets on my nerves. But I have been like that for a while now."

"Why?"

"She's been having trouble sleeping." Marilyn blurts out mindlessly.

"Thank you, Marilyn." I warn her loudly. Luckily, it didn't draw any attention.

"What? I know you were going to tell him, anyway. Might as well get it out of the way now."

I roll my eyes then stare down at the table in embarrassment. I really wasn't planning on telling Michael that. He doesn't need to know about my personal problems.

"Why is that?" He asks me. He sounds concerned about it, but I doubt he really is.

I hate it when people ask me the "why" questions. If I knew why, I don't really think I would consider it much of a problem anymore. But, instead of telling him that, I decided to be as nice as possible about it. I give him a big, clueless. "I wish I knew. I truly do."

"What the fuck?" Marilyn jolts forward, her eyes widened at her bright iPad screen. She glances between me and the screen several times before clicking the lock button in the blink of an eye. She closes the cover and packs all of her things back into her bag.

"Um…" I was going to ask her what happened, but the drowsiness seems to have erased the words from my mind.

"Gotta go. They're streaming on the SmartBoard down on the fourth floor."

I raise a curious eyebrow. "But isn't there, like a string of passwords you have to put in for that computer?"

"Philip hacked it. A bunch of students are down there right now." She zips her bag closed. She hangs it on her forearm, nearly punching herself in the jaw while doing so. "Alright. Well, I'll see you later. They're playing The Notebook right now." Before Michael or I have a chance to even say good-bye in return, she is speeding-walking past the librarian's desk and out the door.

"Wow." Michael says, looking at me once again. "I didn't know she could move so quickly."

"You obviously have never gone shopping with her." I can't stand this. I feel like I am dying—actually, no. Screw that. I am dead. Please stop talking to the dead girl.

"Let's hope I won't ever have to, either." He throws in a little bit of a laugh even though he is clearly dead-serious." Anyway, you wanna ditch the rest of the day?"

Keep talking. "And go where, exactly?" I shouldn't even be considering this, knowing how my absences are. But I guess it doesn't hurt to get a little more information on the subject.

"I don't know. Lunch? A movie? Coffee? It's up to you."

Don't do it. You can't afford another absence. Don't even think of saying yes. Stop it. I stare blankly into space, making my decision in the time given. I let out the heaviest and most exhausted sigh. "Eh, why not?" I grab my bag and put one strap over my shoulder.

"We both stand up simultaneously, and he leads the way to the back of the school.

We had to have successfully dodged at least four security guards before we made it out of the back entrance of the school. I am relieved to know we didn't get caught. I may be friends with some of the guards here, but they would never let me go away with trying to leave the school.

"That was much easier than I thought it would be." Michael says. "My last school had a security guard at almost every door in the school."

"That must have been a lovely school." I reply sarcastically. And all this time I thought Stamford High was bad.

"Not really. The administrators were just really over-protective. Hardly anything happened there."

I nod my head, but I kind of stopped listening after he said "not really". My mind has been wandering off a lot lately, and I think it has to do with more than the lack of sleep. And it's not just listening I am having a problem with. That just seems to be one of the many thing I have not been putting much effort nowadays. I don't know what is wrong with me. I am not dead (seriously), but I might as well be.

Michael swings his back pack around and open the smallest pocket in the front. "So how about some food from the mall restaurant?" he pulls out a bunch of keys.

"Sounds… good. Um, why are you taking those out?" I point to the keys he is winging around his index finger in a cicular motion.

He glances at them. "Well, we have to get into my car somehow." He smirks.

"What? You drive?" He doesn't realize how happy that makes me, I was not looking forward to walking all the way to the mall. "You… I freaking love you, man."

"Why? 'Cuz you know I've got a car now?"

"Um. Yeah." When he rolls his eyes, it makes me giggle. "Not just that." I add. "You are a really cool guy, too. You and Marilyn are the best friends I have had in a very long time."

Michael doesn't say anything after that. Then again, he doesn't have to say anything for me to feel a sudden change in the atmosphere. It's a little bit heavier now. And awkward. It is pretty sad feeling, actually and I don't get it. And Michael's current facial expression only confirms that something is wrong. Was it something I said? Did he not like something I said? What did I say?

Instead of letting that slip this time, I decided to ask him about it. I don't like seeing him that way mostly because he reminds of a puppy when he does it. "What's wrong?" I ask after a minute of silent stalling.

He licks his lips; he's got something important on his mind. The empty look in his stare is telling me that much. But, despite the signs. "Nothing." He says as if it's true.

"I don't believe that. Just letting you know." I make a one-eighty and walk backward as I speak to him.

He shrugs carelessly. "It's nothing. Seriously. My thoughts just got to me for a second. That's all."

Damn it. I really want know now. Cue Loki voice: TELL ME! "Okay. Fine. It's your business." I leave it at that. I don't want to annoy him or piss him off.

We are halfway through the huge student parking lot when Michael turns right and walks to the driver's side of a… no way.

I study the car from a side view. Oh My God is all I am thinking now. Michael's car is a Mercedes-Benz C250 Coupe in red. Yes, it is a beautiful car, but that's not what's fascinating about it. It is an exact replica of the car Tom had before he moved back to England. I won't ask about it now, but I will definitely be bringing it up at some point later on.

"Michael watches with a raised eyebrow as I study his car. Or Tom's car. I can't really tell at the moment. "Are you coming, or what?"

I nod a yes, mindlessly. I am sure I look beyond lost right now. I can actually feel the expression in my face. I slowly make my way to the passenger's side, my eyes still not leaving the car. It just looks way too much like Tom's. I get in and push the image of the car clean out of my mind. What does it matter if it's Tom's or not? It's not his anymore. When I sit down, the feeling of the seat is so familiar to me. I had to have sit here before. If this is Tom's car… Huh. Wouldn't that be something?

We pull farther away from the school and closer to the street, and I can feel the pressure of the depressing air disappearing. Following quickly after is the stress of school and socialization being lifted so rapidly, and it feels amazing. We cruise down the road like we have all the time in the world.