From the moment he'd opened his eyes, his stomach had been doing somersaults. Seeing Arnie die every time he closed his eyes didn't help either. With a heavy sigh, Dennis rolled over and lifted his head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand.

7:45am.

"Shit." He mumbled into the pillow.

He had less than forty minutes to get dressed and get to school, and almost considered staying home. Graduation was in a few short months, however, and finals were right around the corner. Thanks to Christine he had already fallen behind, if he missed anymore he may as well get ready to spend another year in high school. Dennis dragged himself up and out of bed, trudging sleepily towards the bathroom. Though when he reached it, the door was locked tight.

"Damn it, Elaine!" He cursed, and heard the giggles of his younger sister on the other side of the door.

He didn't have time to wait for the shower to be free, if he stuck around much longer he would be late. Folding his arms across his chest, he crept back into his bedroom and threw on the nearest clean clothes he could find; A plain white t-shirt, a grey hoodie and a pair of blue denim jeans, then picked up a can of deodorant only to find it empty.

"Oh come on, not even eight yet, can it get any worse?" He asked the empty room, and tossed the spray can to the floor.

There was no time to mess around, and so he gave up trying to find ways to make himself appear better than he felt, grabbed his car keys and headed down the stairs and out the front door. He could hear his parents calling after him, protesting against leaving without eating breakfast, but ignored them and continued to his blue Duster.

Leigh's eyes scanned the timetable taped to the inside of her locker door and her heart dropped. She had managed perfectly fine to avoid Dennis over the weekend, they hadn't spoken since the funeral on the Friday, and of course, school would ruin that. It was just her luck that the first class of the day would be one of the three she shared with Dennis; Chemistry. It would usually fly by, but she somehow knew this time around it would drag by.

There were only a few students already seated when she entered the classroom, and as she settled into her seat, she fixed her eyes upon the door. Several students poured through, then moments later, Dennis shouldered the door open and stalked his way over to his seat in front of her. She quickly averted her eyes to the very front of the room where the professor was scribbling something upon the chalkboard.

"Leigh…"

Of course he would attempt to talk to her. With a sigh, she turned her head and forced a smile. Though it dropped from her face the moment she registered his appearance. His face was reddened and gleaming with what she could only assume was sweat, and his eyes were no better.

"What do you want?"

"I forgot my bag, do you have a pen?"

"Sure." She nodded and fished inside her pencil case for a spare pen, then offered him two.

"Thanks." He concluded, taking the black ball point.

"Dennis…"

"Yeah?" He whispered, knowing the professor was about to begin the class.

"Are you… feeling okay?"

"In what way?"

"Both."

"Yes, Leigh. I'm fine." He dismissed. "Why'd you ask?"

"You look… not fine."

"Don't worry about it."

Leigh wasn't convinced, but before she could press further the professor was standing right in front of Dennis. It was only then that she realized that they had been ignoring him telling them to be quiet. She wasn't sure how many times he must have said it, but it looked like she was about to find out.

"Something to share, Mr Guilder?"

"Erh, no." Dennis answered. "Not really."

"Well, it must be something juicy since you can't keep your trap shut during my lesson."

"It's nothing." He answered again. "We were still listening."

"Is that so?" The professor challenged. "Then why don't you join me at the front of the class and repeat what I said?"

"Come on, isn't that a little-"

"Wanna receive Saturday detention?"

Dennis exhaled sharply as the professor gestured for him to follow him up to the front of the class, but he made no argument. Leigh grit her teeth as she watched him push himself off the stool and inched towards the edge of the row. He stopped before he could get out to the narrow aisle though.

"Quit stalling, Guilder." The professor warned.

Leigh's eyes narrowed as he still didn't move. He remained in that same spot, the only movement being small swaying motions that increased the longer he stood. His eyes seemed to dance lazily around the room, not settling anywhere they landed.

What was he doing?

"Dennis?" She tried, but he seemed not to hear her.

Finally, he took a small step forward only to stagger back several steps and then lost his balance, collapsing to the floor and smashing his head on the counter as he went. Several squeals, gasps and whispers filled the room as students gathered around to see for themselves. Leigh remained in her seat for a second, then got up and started towards the circle of students, and weaved her way to the front. She raised her hand to cover her mouth as her jaw hung open, and all she could do was stare at him sprawled on the floor, with one arm stretched out above him and the other flatly across his stomach.

Before she could get any closer, the professor's voice ordered that the crowd part to allow him through, and all at once they scrambled back to their own seats, though their eyes stayed on Dennis. She didn't bother going back to her own seat, instead she took only a few steps to allow the professor room.

"Is this some kind of prank?"

"No." She answered quickly, her hand unconsciously moving to clutch at her chest, where her heart was beginning to pound.

"If you think this is going to get you out of-"

"Stop!" She cried. "It's not a prank. He's clearly unconscious and needs medical help, so don't just stand there staring at him with those judgemental eyes and using that accusing tone!" She snapped. "I don't think he was feeling well when he came in, anyone could see that he wasn't looking good."

The professor glanced back and forth between Leigh and Dennis, and then pushed past her to get out of the row.

"Very well then." He huffed. "I will go and get the nurse."

Leigh watched, feeling helpless as he disappeared through the door, and knelt down on the floor. The sweat that gleamed on Dennis's forehead was now dripping in tiny beads down towards his neck and back. His eyes were closed, and as she put her hand to his wrist, he didn't so much as stirr. She exhaled heavily in relief when she found the steady beat of his pulse. It was a silly fear, she knew. He had most likely just fainted and hit his head when he fell, but after losing Arnie, she often found herself coming up with all sorts of scenarios that were fear-worthy. Losing Dennis was one of those. As the professor reappeared, followed by the school nurse, she shoved the thought away and got back on her feet as they pushed her out of the way.

The dull thumping began its rhythm in his head before Dennis had even opened his eyes, and a frown pulled between his eyebrows as the bright lighting of the room blinded him momentarily. He attempted to pull himself into a sitting position, and regretted instantly as the dull thumping amplified, blurring his vision and making him dizzy. Unable to focus, he let himself flop back down and sighed. His hands were clammy with sweat and he felt hot; too hot. Though he struggled to recall what had led him here. All he remembered was the classroom, and Leigh… then nothing.

"Told you I'd get you, you shitter."

Dennis felt his blood run cold, and despite the pounding in his head, he jumped up almost too quickly and then fell back onto the blue leather bench in the nurse's office.

Oh, so that's where he was.

Slowly but surely, his memory began to work again and he remembered being reprimanded by their chemistry professor, and then passing out in front of the entire class. As if to prove that it had actually happened, the back of his head began to sting where he had struck it when he fell.

"You turned into one of them, Dennis. You and Leigh, you became the shitters!"

That voice. He knew it anywhere, but it was simply impossible. It wasn't real, there was no way that it could ever be. Despite how much he wanted to look, he forced his eyes to remain on the tiled floor. If he didn't see him then he couldn't be tormented.

"Look at me!"

"No… Arnie, I- I can't." Dennis whispered, his voice breaking.

"Look at me!" Arnie screamed.

Dennis flinched, but lifted his head and looked across the room at his best friend. Or rather, what looked like his best friend, and yet somehow at the same time, looked nothing like Arnie at all. At least, not the Arnie that he'd known. This version of him was the last one he'd seen in the months leading up to his death. The version that was more like LeBay than Arnie.

"You were my friend… I thought you were on my side… but you turned your back the moment Christine came into the picture-"

"No, I tried but you didn't listen to me. You didn't listen to anyone!"

"So instead you tried to tear us apart. Me and her…"

"You and Leigh? No, I-"

"I'm not talking about Leigh." Arnie laughed maniacally. "I'm talking about Christine, idiot! You tried to tear us apart, I don't care about Leigh, not after what the two of you did to me."

"We were trying to help you! Damn it, Arnie!"

"Oh, don't deny it. You're a shitter, Dennis. Admit it, you weren't really trying to help me… you just wanted me out the way so you could have Leigh to yourself."

"That's not true, and if you were the Arnie that was my best friend, you would know it too."

"Hardly matters now." Arnie scoffed. "Don't worry, she'll be back for you though. She always comes back to destroy the shitters."

Dennis's eyes widened but before he could say anything Arnie had disappeared, and he was alone once more in the nurse's office. The door swung open suddenly, and the school nurse walked into the room. Her face lit up as she saw him awake and sat up.

"Ah, you're up." She said in surprise. "Five more minutes and you'd have found yourself in a hospital bed."

"Then I guess my timing is impeccable." He joked lightly.

"Yes, but I still need to call your parents."

"Please don't." He begged. "I feel fine."

"Sorry, I still have to call them."

"Please." He repeated. "I really do feel okay now."

"Hmm.." The nurse considered. "Alright, if you get through this little test then I won't, but if you feel anything throughout the rest of the day you should immediately come back to my office."

"Deal." He agreed and watched as she grabbed a tiny flashlight from where she kept all sorts of medical instruments.

She paced back over to him and then switched the flashlight on and shone it in his eyes. An involuntary gasp escaped him as suddenly, instead of the tiny beam of light, he saw Christine's blinding headlights, and he screwed his eyes shut, turning his head away.

"Mr Guilder?"

His heart had already started to race as floods of memories involving that evil autumn red, custom Plymouth Fury and Arnie invaded his mind. Dennis found himself short of breath, the dizziness having returned and strong nausea along with it. Those headlights pierced through the darkness when it was least expected, almost being crushed by the car and then having to crush it… and Arnie; leaping through the windscreen towards Leigh with a jagged edged shard of glass lodged through his chest. It came back as vividly as if it were happening all over again.

"Mr Guilder?"

"Bucket." He said suddenly.

The nurse looked taken aback, but set the flashlight aside and picked up the small trash can and shoved it in front of him at just the right moment as he heaved and retched, emptying his stomach into it. He didn't stop until there was nothing left, and then took a heavy breath, with Christine's headlights still fresh in his mind.

"That's it. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to call your parents."

Dennis groaned, though didn't bother to protest as he set the trash can down beside him and held his head in his hands. He really had felt better when he'd woken up, but something about that flashlight and image of those deadly headlights had brought everything right back.

"That's really not necessary… I brought my car, I can get home by myself."

"Not after that."

"Honestly, I'm fine. I just need some fresh air."

"But-"

He didn't wait for the nurse to protest, and instead he jumped down onto his feet and stalked out of the office. The last thing he wanted was his parents smothering him because of their own worries. He made it all the way to the big double doors, and outside to his car without being stopped and managed to drive away from the building and got half way home before he was forced to pull over by a sudden wave of dizziness. His head still thumped, but it was once again just a dull ache.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He whispered to himself.

Though he knew the answer already. Christine. No matter how much he knew she was gone, her presence was still felt and so was Arnie's absence. His chest tightened as he thought about him. Not the possessed Arnie, but the one who he'd driven to and from school every day up until Christine changed it all. He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting to the empty passenger seat next to him, and for a split second, he wanted to scream and cry and beat the steering wheel. But he didn't. It wasn't the place, and if he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

Dennis carried the blame for Arnie's death, and had since that night. He had tried, and tried, to warn him several times from the moment they laid eyes on Christine but each time his concerns fell on deaf ears and eventually the love for that car had consumed Arnie, and it had killed him. He wished that fact made the weight easier to bear, but it didn't. They'd successfully destroyed Chrstine, but they hadn't managed to save Arnie. He had been living with it since, and the funeral had only brought the suppressed guilt to the surface.

Leigh was the only one who could possibly understand, but she'd been pushing him away. There wasn't really anyone else to talk to. His dad always offered, but there was no way they could understand what he was going through because they hadn't been there. Dennis looked at the road ahead, with the rush of traffic coming and going every few minutes and sighed. He wasn't ready to go home yet, and as he started the car and pulled out onto the road, he turned a sharp corner and sped off down towards the cemetery.

It was near empty when he pulled up in the church yard, or maybe it seemed that way after seeing the crowd from the funeral on Friday; the crowd of people who pretended to care but didn't even glance in Arnie's direction when he was alive. The kind of people that made him sick. A few people were filing out of the church, and there were others in the distance standing over the graves of lost loved ones. Dennis pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces and had barely taken the key out of the ignition before he got out and stalked over to the fresh grave that was currently awaiting its headstone. Instead there was a small wooden cross marking it with a silver plaque in the middle. He laughed humourlessly at the words engraved on it.

Arnold Cunningham

February 3rd 1961 - January 1979

Beloved son and friend.

It depended which version of Arnie they were referring to. Arnie, the shy kid with a pizza face who wouldn't harm a fly… or Arnie, the obsessed owner of Christine with a grudge against anyone that went against him or her. He shook the thought from his mind, knowing he hadn't come here for the latter. It was the former that he liked to hope people remembered his friend for.

"This is stupid." He muttered under his breath, but crouched down in front of the uneven soil anyway. "Arnie… I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. I only hope that it's the real Arnie I'm talking to, and not who LeBay and that damn car turned you into…"

As if in response, a gentle breeze swept through the cemetery, sending a shiver up his spine, and he felt a sudden uneasiness that hadn't been there before. The same feeling he had felt in the months leading to Arnie's death. Despite that feeling, he decided to remain there. He needed to get this off his chest, if he didn't then it would only continue to eat away at him. The only way to even try to move forward was to tell his side of the story, whether or not he was heard.

"I'll admit, I did have my eyes on Leigh long before you even grew the balls to ask her out, but after that I wasn't gonna act on my feelings. You… at least the real you, would have known that I would never betray you like that. Then things changed though… you changed. I tried to warn you about that car, man, but you didn't listen and the more time you spent with Ch- Christine, you became more like LeBay and less like Arnold Cunningham. The way you treated everyone… your parents, Darnell, Leigh… even me. Leigh came to me because she wanted to help you, and we tried… and I'm sorry, Arnie. I'm sorry that we couldn't save you. But what are we supposed to do now? Punish ourselves and pretend our feelings don't exist?"

Dennis shook his head and stood up, shuffling his feet in the grass, then turned and walked away, back to his car. In a sudden surge of anger, he grit his teeth and slammed his fist into the hood of the old blue Duster, and instantly recoiled as it sent a shock wave of pain through his wrist.