Elizabeth sits in the grass, staring out across the surface of a large lake. The water, the sky, the rocky beach all look amazingly clear, movie theater colors that are more precisely defined than any she's ever seen. She's never been to this lake, but it never occurs to her to question where it is or how she got here. She sees Liam standing on the beach, skipping rocks across the water. Besides the two of them there's no one around, and other than the sound of the rocks hitting the water she hears nothing. Even the ambient sounds of birds or wind are absent, making everything seem completely still. Liam watches one rock skip significantly farther than the others, then turns to walk toward her. She smiles at him as he stands beside her, his eyes focused on the horizon. "Isn't it amazing how old we are?" she says, paying sudden attention to her own words, feeling strangely unaware of what she's going to say next. "We're seventeen years old. Doesn't it seem like we should be older?" "Sure," he says, putting a hand over his eyes to block the sun. "Or younger, actually. I feel like I'm younger. Or I should be younger. When you're a kid you know you're going to get older, that someday it'll happen, but you never really believe it. Intellectually you know it, but deep down you really think you're going to be a kid forever. You're never gonna grow up, it's just something that happens to other people. I had this kind of inner security that it wasn't going to happen to me, like it was a bad choice they'd made that I wasn't going to repeat. But then it happens and your youth is gone forever, and you can never have it back." He grins. "I'd hardly say your youth is gone." "Maybe not. But it's a relative measurement. I'll never be able to live in that little bubble world again, that tiny reality I lived in as a kid. That part's gone." She runs her hand across the grass and looks up at the sky, falling backward until she's pressed firmly against the ground. Again she starts talking, effortlessly, as though someone else's words were coming from her mouth. "I really find it easy to get in a mindset where all I remember are the bad things about people, just their mistakes. But when I really think about it I can see the good in them, I can see beyond the wasted potential – It can be really hard, they're always messing it up, all the time, one person after another letting me down. How did all these little kids grow up to be such untrustworthy liars?" She breathes out. "I know school didn't help. I hate that, in movies and tv shows how the symbol for people getting their lives together and sailing straight is that they're gonna go to school. Big fucking deal. Millions of people go to school and it doesn't help them at all. It's time for them to grow up, to really grow up. So many grownups don't know about dealing with reality, they don't understand that they don't have to run from it to find entertainment. The fun in life doesn't come from avoiding reality, it comes from crashing into it head on, learning how it works, using it to make your desires real, to shape the world into what you want it to be." She closes her eyes. "Maybe they just want to get their bubble world back, their enclosed little kid world. They're not ready to step up to the plate. I don't know." "Don't you ever talk about anything else?" Her eyes dart open as she sits back up. She looks at him and asks, "What?" She sees that he's throwing rocks again, but this time they don't bounce off the water. They sail up into the sky in a straight path, until they turn into tiny specks against the horizon. "You always talk about the same things." He throws another rock and watches it sail slowly away from him, then kneels in front of her. "What good could it possibly be doing? Is it changing anything? Is it making you happy to complain all the time?" She crosses her legs and looks at him strangely. "I didn't know you had a problem with it." "It doesn't bother me. It's just that it isn't important. I know who you are, you've defined yourself thoroughly. There's no need to repeat it again and again." He picks up a stone and weighs it in his hand, then smirks at her. "Or are you afraid that without your standard lament you'll have nothing else to say?" She feels a little taken aback, but smiles. "Is that supposed to scare me? This is my personality. Take it or leave it." He stands and turns toward the water, tossing another rock into the sky. "The world's not as black and white as you make it. I know you don't like that idea because whenever I bring it up you tell me to shut up, but it's the truth. Who are these people you're always railing against? Do you even know them? Or are you just condemning everyone who doesn't have the same level of self-esteem as you?" "Of course not. I know that things are more complicated than that. Some enthusiasts for self-esteem convey the idea that if one has good self-esteem, virtually all the important problems of life have been solved. This is untrue. Struggle is intrinsic to life. Everyone experiences some degree of anxiety and pain, at one time or another – and while self-esteem can make one less susceptible, it cannot make one impervious." She stops and touches her fingers to her lips. That didn't sound like her. "And who was that?" he asks, as though he could hear her thoughts. "Nathaniel Branden..." She's silent for a moment, then grins a little. "I can't believe I remembered that entire quote." "You didn't." He watches a final rock disappear in the distance before turning back to her. "This is a dream." "What?" She looks around, feeling suddenly afraid and not in control of herself. Her eyes dart back and forth as she tries to move her arms, but they won't respond. "Whoa, relax," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look at me." Their eyes connect, and he says, "This is the moment of lucidity. Don't wake up." "How can someone in a dream be telling me not to wake up? You're not even real." Suddenly she feels her neck go limp as her muscles relax, and she exhales. She slowly moves her arms and feels them come back under her control. She moves her tongue across her teeth as she looks back at him. "This is weird." He shrugs. "What are you, then? You're not Liam. Are you just my fabrication of him?" "Probably." "Or maybe," she says, "You are Liam, and we're both dreaming the exact same thing at the same time." "I don't think so. That's a little heavy on the We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively vibe, don't you think?" "Yeah." She runs her hands along her body and says, "I can't believe how real this feels..." "Yeah, it's really something." He glances around, looking not particularly interested. "Now what I was saying is that you rely on others more than you think. Take Nathaniel Branden; you talk about him all the time." "I don't talk about him that much, do I?" "Maybe not directly. But take The Spirituality of Reason; where did that come from? And you were just telling Steven about it yesterday." "So? Is there something wrong with me telling him that?" "That's just it, you were telling him. You weren't really talking to him. It was just a big speech." He sits down beside her, taking a blade of grass and blowing it from his hand, where it floats slowly upward in an unnaturally straight path. "Could you please not do that? It's distracting." "Sorry." He breathes in deeply before looking back at her. "What I'm trying to tell you is that you're becoming dogmatic. You say what you want to say and you don't care about anyone else's opinion. I think the only reason I've stayed on your good side for so long is that I don't usually question you." "No," she says, her eyebrows lowering slightly. "You and I get along because we have similar outlooks on life. You don't need to ask questions because you already know the answers. You said yourself that Ayn Rand and Nathaniel Branden were friends at one point. We come from the same place." "But the difference is that I don't define myself through Ayn Rand. She may have had an effect on me, but how often do I mention her?" "Almost never." She thinks for a moment. "Why is that? If she had such a big effect on you then why don't you talk about her?" "Because you have to kill your teachers," he says, looking her squarely in the eye. "You learn what you can from them, and then you let them go. You have to. You can't just become an echo of them. You have to be your own person." She smirks and glances away. "I hardly think I'm in danger of becoming some kind of crazed Brandenite." "No, but that's not the point. The truth is that you're really not like him. His books are fair and even handed, and they somehow manage to stay non-judgmental even while he's laying down facts about reality that people might not like to hear. There's always an overwhelming sense of hope, a sense that all of our potential is within our grasp. Don't you remember how you read them and were amazed at how any bitterness, any anger that slipped into his writing was completely overshadowed by the good will inherent in it, the understanding he held for people even when they didn't quite manage to overcome the things that were holding them down? You, on the other hand, go from being happy to angry at the drop of a hat. I know you don't like to hear about tolerance, and maybe you're right, maybe tolerance is just a big load of shit, but you at least need some understanding of people; without that you're never going to be happy living in this world. And I know you have it. You just don't use it." She stares at him, then looks silently down at the glass. After awhile she says, "So what do you think I should do?" "Don't ask me, I'm just you." She continues frowning, so he hands her a small rock. "In that case, what I'd do is have some fun with this," he says, gesturing at the sky around them. She examines the rock briefly, then smirks before drawing her arm back and tossing it into the air. It sails upward, moving farther and farther away from them, finally lingering in the sky as only a tiny black speck. "Hey, I wanna try something." She looks around until she spots a far larger rock and gestures to him. "Come on, you've gotta help me lift it." They each grip one side of the rock, and on her signal they lift. After straining for a moment they manage to raise it slightly from the ground, and after they let go it continues to slowly rise. She laughs while it floats steadily to her knee level, then her waist. "Oh my god! Look!" She gives him a giant smile, and he smiles back. Then, carefully, she climbs onto the rock. "Are you coming?" "There's no more room." "Okay." She rises farther from the ground, saying, "I'll be right back. Wait for me!" "Sure." He puts his hands in his pockets and watches her rise slowly into the sky. "Oh my god! The zombies are everywhere!" Liam cocks his shotgun as Elizabeth clings terrified to his leg. "Kill them!" She screams. "Sweet jesus, shoot them!" "I'm trying!" He blasts the head from an animated corpse that had been shambling toward them, then yells, "This is fucked! And why the fuck are they all wearing christmas hats?" "I don't know!" Her fingers claw into his leg as she shrieks, "Just shoot!" The window behind them explodes in a shower of glass and a pair of rotting arms grab Liam. He glances over to see a set of yellowed, decaying teeth sinking into the skin of his neck. His eyes widen as he yells, "FUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!!" He wakes up with a start, his face covered in sweat, panting heavily. Holy christ, he thinks; what the fuck was that? He sits still for a moment, trying to calm his shaking body, then reaches for his copy of Dawn of the Dead and slides it into his vcr. "So what do you want to do with your life?" Elizabeth sits on the end of Steven's bed; Steven watches her, smiling a little shyly, feeling glad that she's there. "I don't know," he says. "I'm not really sure yet." "You write sometimes, don't you?" "Yeah. I tried writing a book a couple of years ago, actually." He runs a hand across the back of his head as he glances around the room. "It didn't work out... At first it seemed like it was going okay, but it kept getting more and more bitter. Eventually sitting down to write it started feeling like a chore, and I couldn't keep up with it anymore. There was really no joy in it, the idea of reading back over my own writing just seemed impossible. So eventually I just stopped." She nods slightly. "I think one of the biggest problems is getting over a fear of criticism. The idea of making something and having someone tell you that it's no good, that it was a wasted effort and that you would have been better off without it, that's scary. You sit down ready to make a mirror of yourself and you have to fight the idea that other people may not like it. They may not even care. So whatever you decide to do has to be something you're ridiculously dedicated to." She looks directly at him while she speaks, but for some reason he doesn't feel as nervous around her as he usually does. For once, he feels almost comfortable. "You might have to keep at it for a long time before you find anyone who's even interested in what you're doing, and even once you do the affirmation is fleeting. At the end of the day you've still got to sit down and do whatever you've decided to do, and no one else can do it for you. So you've really gotta be into it, you've gotta have a kind of mania for your chosen art. That's the only way it'll survive." "Well, maybe I better hold off," he says, glancing around his room. "My interests are pretty fleeting." "Don't wait too long. I know so many people who I was sure would go places with their lives, I just took it for granted that they'd keep working toward the things they wanted and eventually, someday, they'd make it. But already I know they never will. Their fire is extinguished. We all fall into patterns, we all have routines, but the defining difference is who lets that routine run them into the ground and who uses it to gain momentum, to rise into a hurricane that can pick them up and put them wherever they really want to be in life." She's silent for a moment, then rolls up her sleeves. "What I want to do is make things that help people feel powerful. A story, a song, a picture, there's nothing more important than gaining that feeling of walking across the earth and knowing that you can face it, that you're up to the challenge, that nothing can stop you. That you belong here. That living on the earth is your proper place in the universe... it's hard to get that feeling, and it's easy to lose, but when someone gives it to you... that's worth more than anything." She lays on her back and stares up at the ceiling. He can't think of anything to say, so he watches her face as her eyes move slowly from one side of the room to the other. "It used to seem so perfect," she says, "Like nothing could go wrong. My life was an amazing thing, my conflicts had been resolved. And I didn't really go anywhere or do anything I could describe, I just lived in this town like I always have, but isn't that conflict enough? Isn't life enough work by itself that I don't need any further burdens to make it an appreciable struggle? And I did it, I really felt like I'd accomplished something, my life was so fun... I loved to go to sleep at night because I couldn't wait to wake up the next day. But I lost it. I've started to learn there's a paradox involved in this life. How can I find out that I'm alive only to learn that I'm going to die? Everything is evolving," she says with a sigh, "and everything in falling apart." Looking a little concerned, he says, "Come on, it's not that bad. You just have to keep your head up. It's natural that you'd be depressed sometimes, but you'll come through it." She grins as she sits up. "It sounds weird to have you reassuring me. But then, that was the most uninspired advice I've ever heard." He shrugs a little, and she says, "So when was the last time you woke up smiling, feeling really happy at the prospect of the day ahead of you?" He looks at her happily and says, "Today. Because I knew I'd get to see you." She blushes slightly and glances away. For a moment neither of them speak, and then she slides herself closer to him. She leans over and kisses him on cheek, and their eyes meet. After a moment they move into a kiss. His hands slide around her waist as her fingers move through his hair, and the feeling of her lips against his sends a wave of euphoria through him. After the kiss his mouth moves down to her chin, then her neck as his hands find their way to her breasts. He cups them eagerly and she moans in his ear, but they feel odd – more pillowy than he'd expected... Suddenly he hears a rough voice say, "Well, Steven. Come on over here and let me talk to you, son." He looks over to see a wizened, slightly disheveled black man sitting in a wicker chair, holding a cane which he taps occasionally against the ground to emphasize a point. "See now," the man says, "Liam just got back from some shit that you about to be in. Well? Are you prepared?" Steven looks at him in complete confusion, for a moment almost forgetting Elizabeth in his arms. For some reason he can't look away. "I hope you are prepared nigga," the man continues, "'cause you know this is dream sequence number three. Yes, more bitches than before. There'll be more bitches, more and more and more! More thirsty niggas, tryin' to get inside your shit! Tryin' to throw your whole chemistry off!" "Who are you?" Steven asks, frowning, then says, "Will you just leave me alone?" "Oh yes," the man says, without missing a beat. "There's gonna be a lot more sex. Yes, a lot more sex than before. But son, don't you worry 'bout none of that shit. All you gotta do is just slap your dick in the mouth of these bitches that don't wanna act right, and put a hot one in any motherfucker that wants to get in the way of this power move shit right here!" "What? Just go away!" Between clenched teeth Steven growls, "I'm in the middle of something!" "Okay, son. All right Steven! Enough of this shit talkin'!" The man leans closer, giving him a small wink as he says, "Let's be on our way. 'Cause when disaster strikes... there's gonna be a whole lot of motherfuckers pourin' in..." Steven's attention returns instantly to Elizabeth as things slowly begin to fade. He grips her desperately but she's disappearing, and slowly a second view of his room begins to fill his vision. This second point of view slowly overtakes the first and he blinks a few times, rubbing the soreness from his eyes. With the realization that he'd been dreaming he rolls over, grabbing his pillow angrily and clenching it against his face. He tries to remember what it felt like to have her near him, to hold her in his arms... he exhales loudly as his body collapses limply against the bed, overwhelmed by a feeling of complete exhaustion. Elizabeth knows before she wakes up that it's raining outside. When she opens her eyes her room is more dim than usual, and outside it's quite overcast, the sky a solid sheet of grey. She closes her eyes and smiles as she listens to the rain fall steadily against the roof above her. When she wakes up again it's almost ten thirty – still morning, but far too late to go to school. It's still raining outside, and she rolls slowly out of bed and walks to her window. The world looks so beautiful when it's raining... there's no wind, so the rain falls straight down, covering everything as far as she can see. Besides the rain, everything is still... everything else is quiet... She pulls on a t-shirt and starts to climb out her window, but is stopped as she notices the umbrella in the corner. It's the one Liam had given her, covered with bright blue cartoon raindrops. She looks at it for a moment, then climbs off the window cill back into her room. She picks it up, smiling a little, then goes to her bookshelf where she runs her fingers gently across the spines of her Nathaniel Branden collection... her brow furrows slightly as it occurs to her that maybe she should read something else. Nice one, subconscious, she thinks with a smirk, walking to her desk to pick up a copy of her mother's latest book. She always reads her mother's books, even though she doesn't find them specifically interesting. They aren't bad, and she always likes seeing her occasional suggestions show up in them, but they really don't address the things that are important to her. She's most fascinated by the fact that her mother has managed to make a respectable living writing them. Elizabeth herself is actually a bit of a celebrity at the occasional conventions she'd attend with her mother, through virtue of being the daughter of the "amazingly talented Angela Patton". She supposed that as fiction about flying cars went they were quite well done, but not her style. She glances at herself in the mirror – she's wearing a t-shirt and boxers, no shoes or socks, but hardly anyone will be outside in this weather. It'll be more than enough. She walks downstairs and opens her umbrella at the front door, then steps outside. The rain patters loudly against the material above her head, and as she walks away from the house she feels a small amount of appreciation for the idea of having rain surround her without actually touching her. In a way it seems kind of ridiculous that she's never used an umbrella before, but she decides it's best if she doesn't bother mentioning it to anyone. They probably wouldn't believe her anyway. She stays on the sidewalk until she reaches the park, then steps into the grass. It's odd to feel the wetness around her feet while the rest of her body stays dry – this is nice, but she still feels the occasional urge to toss the umbrella aside and start running to the empty playground, to jump on a swing and go as high as she can while the rain plummets down around her. But she has the book with her acting as her anchor, and she carries it to a park bench where she sits down carefully. The seat of her boxers gets wet immediately and her first inclination is to pull them off, but she has no idea when someone might walk by. One reason she likes her bedroom so much is that casual nudity isn't a problem; anywhere on the 2nd floor of her house is pretty much okay. She looks out across the park, through the rain. Her mouth moves slowly into a smile as her eyes travel gradually across the park, absorbing the scene. After a few minutes she glances down at her lap and opens the book, then begins to read as the rain falls around her. Jennifer dictates to the class without much enthusiasm, giving out facts to remember for the next test. She'd rather call the class off, but with the weather outside there's nowhere for the students to go; setting a room full of kids loose in the school is a step further than she's willing to go. Her eyes are drawn occasionally to Liam who pays no attention to the class. His face is turned to the window, leaning on his arm as he stares out into the rain. "Alright," Evan says as he straightens out his shirt. "Let's go." Hillary looks up at him, but he's paying no attention to her. His eyes are focused on a table across the cafeteria where Jessica and Lindsey sit. The cafeteria is more crowded than usual due to the rain, but they still have a table to themselves. He glances at Hillary and nods to the table, so she walks toward it as he follows. Hillary sits down and says "Hey guys", Evan sitting down next to her. Glancing at him she notices that his face has changed to an easy smile. "Hi," he says, offering his hand. "I'm Evan." Jessica shakes his hand briefly while raising an eyebrow. "Well, hello. Hillary's been talking all about you." "The brand new couple," Lindsey says, though she looks a little skeptical. "How sudden." She leans forward, adding, "So you two just clicked, huh?" Evan shrugs a little. "I don't know. We don't really know each other that well." Jessica and Lindsey exchange a quick glance. "Then why are you going out?" Jessica asks. "Because she's the cutest girl at this school," Evan says, leaning over to give Hillary a quick kiss. Hillary blushes and smiles to herself. "Well, that's certainly shallow of you," Jessica says, glancing away. "Not that that's unusual for Hil." Evan's look hardens slightly, but he retains his smile. "You don't think that's reason enough for us to have gotten together?" Looking back at him, Jessica says, "Of course not. A relationship can't last when there's no basis for the attraction." "Attraction is the basis," Evan replies. "Physical looks are what everyone looks for in everyone else. That's what relationships are all about." A boy walks up behind Jessica and rests his hands on her shoulders. "I have to go check about one of my assignments," he says. "I'll see you in a bit." "Okay." Jessica leans back and gives him a kiss before he walks away. Evan watches him go with a sly glance. "And what's that for?" Jessica asks, noticing him. "Well, for example, don't you think you could do better than him?" Jessica laughs a little. "So my boyfriend's not cute enough for you?" "No, he's fine. Quite handsome, even. But do you mean to tell me that you're not always sizing up people, that you're not looking for someone more attractive than him to make the leap up the chain?" "No. Why would I?" Looking somewhat proud she says, "Our relationship is based on a mental connection." Evan smirks. "And you think that's going to last?" "Maybe, maybe not. But it's a lot more substantial than basing everything on looks." Evan's face takes on a touch of a sneer as he says, "I don't buy it. Physical appearance dictates almost everything. People's positions in the world are based on how they look, and even if they do manage to break into a different group it's always obvious that they don't belong." "But that makes no sense," Jessica says. "How can you live your whole life based on what you were born looking like? It's ridiculous." "I didn't make the rules," Evan answers. "I'm just the one who's not trying to pretend that things are different. When you're stopped by someone across the room, it's their looks that grab you. When you want someone so badly that you can't think of anything else, it's because of their looks. Physical beauty holds value for everyone, yet they try to downplay its importance while they're buying magazines and going to movies just to see it. So I say stop resisting. I've got no problem with using appearance to decide if I want to be with someone. It's going to be a massive determining factor whether I want it to be or not." "And what do you do when your relationship inevitably falls apart because it was a hollow shell to begin with?" "The same thing everyone else does," Evan says. "Go on to someone else." "Well, you've obviously got the looks to co-exist with that kind of a value system, but it's bullshit for everyone else. The only people it doesn't work against are the abnormally attractive." "Maybe, but that's no concern of mine." Jessica glances away, looking distinctly annoyed, so Evan adds, "Beauty inspires, it hits you deep and it doesn't let go. Being around beautiful people, it just melts you. To appreciate their beauty and to have them appreciate yours back is what everybody wants. But when I pursue someone because I think they're beautiful people tell me that I'm shallow, that I'm missing the point, but I think they're missing the point. So they can spend all the time they want trying to justify things, but at the end of the day I'll be the one with the beautiful partner. That's what I want and that's what I aim to achieve; the waste is to spend your time struggling for anything less. You have to acknowledge that there are rules to beauty." "Rules are there to be broken," Jessica says. "Well... good luck with that, then," Evan replies with a smirk. Lindsey had been appraising Evan quietly but leans against the table to ask, "So that's it? That's your entire philosophy on relationships?" "Yeah," Evan says, leaning over to give Hillary another kiss. He looks into Hillary's eyes, smiling, then adds, "Beautifully fucking illustrated." "Whatever," Lindsey says, looking away with a slight frown. "I'm sure the two of you will be very happy." Evan smiles to himself. "I think that went pretty well." Evan and Hillary walk hand in hand down the hallway, away from the cafeteria. As soon as they turn a corner he lets go of her hand. "Are you kidding?" she asks, looking up at him. "They hated you." "I wasn't trying to make friends with them, just entrenching my position. We're definitely a couple now." He smiles at her and she feels an immediate sense of happiness, but as soon as she starts to move toward him he turns away. "So I'll see you tomorrow," he says, leaving. She stands alone in the corridor, watching him as he walks away. Elizabeth stares up at the sky past the brim of her umbrella. The sun is starting to come out, but the rain won't be over for awhile yet... She sits on the bench with her mother's book laying across her lap, closed, while the rain falls straight down all around her. Her eyes close as she leans her head back, then she closes the umbrella and drops it on the bench beside her. Her mouth moves into a smile as rain lands across her face, water running through her hair and down her neck. Her shirt begins to stick to her skin as she drapes her arms across the back of the bench, rain covering her. Eventually she glances down at the book and sees that it's already begun to warp. She picks it up and finds that the pages have started to fuse together. She smirks a little and thinks a quick "Sorry, mom" as she slaps it down on the bench with a pulpy thud. She stands up and glances around the park before breaking into a short run. Carefully she cartwheels once, then lands on her feet and smiles to herself as she raises her arms into the air. She could never do this if it weren't raining – there'd be people everywhere. She closes her eyes and lifts her head... If only it could rain all the time... From the corner of her eye she notices one of her arms from an odd perspective, as though it weren't hers. She stays completely still as she watches it, hanging in the air, raindrops running slowly down her skin and collecting on her fingertips. She feels a small shock, and for a moment she can't breathe; it's so beautiful, so unbelievably perfect, and some day it will all be gone... Her arms fall as she walks to a nearby tree, her fingers touching lightly against its bark as she rests her cheek against its trunk. She looks at the puddles that have formed all over the park, rain constantly striking them, keeping their surfaces from ever being calm... all of this, everything, this entire world will all disappear some day... Her mind moves to the place it always seems to end up when left to itself: To the five minutes that seem infinite, full of potential and possibility, to the most significant five minutes in all of existence – the five minutes after she dies. She concentrates on those five minutes, thinking of all the things that will happen during them, how the world will continue to move and how things will be as they always were, except that she won't be there... she'll be gone. She's nowhere in those five minutes, for the first time in her entire life she'll be nowhere on the planet; she will no longer exist. But it seems so impossible that she gets stuck in that moment, thinking about how the world could exist without her, how it will exist without her, and she can't accept it. It isn't real, it won't be real... it can't be real. That barren expanse, that reality devoid of her presence... she tries to find some way to include herself, some way to live inside of it, some way to avoid ever having to deal with it at all... She stares silently for awhile, but eventually snaps out of it with a slow smile. It's time to forget about that. Today is no time to deal with those things. Today is a day for something else entirely. The bell rings and moments later the classroom is nearly empty. The teacher has also exited, leaving Liam at his desk, staring out the window. There are ten minutes until the next class, and then he can go home. But that's more than an hour, he doesn't know if he can wait that long. It might be time to leave right now. He goes to his locker and is pulling on his jacket when he hears a familiar voice ask, "Where you going?" He closes the door and sees Jennifer leaning against the next locker down, smiling at him. She looks so much like a schoolgirl that he laughs to himself and asks her, "How old are you again?" She grins. "You remember." He smiles. "Twenty-seven. But didn't I tell you," he says, leaning closer, "that I don't think we should do this anymore?" "Do what?" she asks, frowning at him. "Jesus christ, Liam, we're only talking. What's wrong with you lately? That speech about the safety of my career doesn't hold up at all." She looks at him directly and asks, "What is it really?" He glances across her shoulder down the hallway, saying, "Can we go somewhere more private?" She scrutinizes him for a moment before saying, "I'll find us an empty classroom." Evan sits leaning back in his chair, a foot propped up on his desk. He writes carefully in his notebook, crossing out a word before touching his pen absently against his lips as he considers a replacement. He glances slowly around the room, which is still mostly empty except for a few groups of quietly talking students. He notices Hillary come through the door and walk straight to him. "We have to talk, Evan," she says, standing beside his desk. "Do we?" "There's not going to be a repeat of what happened today." "And what happened today?" he asks, putting down his notebook. "You left me in the hallway as soon as we were out of the cafeteria. I'm not just some tool for you to use when the right people are around." He smirks. "So you want me to use you even when they're not around?" She pulls up a chair and sits down across from him. "What I mean is that if we're gonna do this couple thing, it's gotta be all the time. You're gonna take me out places, we're gonna hang out, the facade will be in place 24/7." She looks him in the eye. "Clear?" He glances away with a smirk as he tips his chair forward to its original position. "And why should I accede to these unreasonable demands?" he asks, glancing back at her. "Because I'm friends with Elizabeth." "And who the hell is Elizabeth?" "Liam's girlfriend!" She sighs. "Jesus, didn't you do any homework on your little project?" "Right, Elizabeth..." he nods. "I knew she had a name." "So if you're nice to me I can arrange for the 4 of us to get together, and that'll give you more time with Liam." He considers for a moment, then smiles to himself. "Alright, I'll bite. Just tell me what to do, your highness." "Well, since it's raining I'll give you the day off," she says, glancing out the window. "But tomorrow we go into full couple mode." Looking at his notebook, she then asks, "What you writing?" He raises his eyebrows briefly as he stares at the book. "About how so many people look so average, and how hard it is to find anyone who stands out. You must notice how most people are so... unexceptional." She feels a small twinge of annoyance, but ignores it. "Is that right?" she asks, leaning back slightly. "It must be rough." "It is," he says, looking bored. She doesn't make any move to leave, so he gives her a quick salute and says, "So, see you tomorrow, then." "Yeah," she says, standing up. "I'll see you." "It's about Elizabeth," Liam says to Jennifer, who sits across from him at a desk in a deserted classroom. "She's heard the rumors about us just like everybody else, and I know she doesn't believe them, but it still creates tension – Whenever the topic of you and me comes up it's like she retreats a tiny bit. It's hardly even noticeable, but I notice it. She's never said anything directly, but I know she's not entirely comfortable with us hanging out together. I don't like feeling that distance between us, even if it's small right now; I want to put her at ease. Do you understand what I mean?" I little confused, Jennifer asks, "So you're pushing me away because of some unspoken slight between you and Elizabeth? How is that fair?" "That's just how things are. You don't fit into things like a normal girl would, if I were just hanging out with another student I don't think she'd care as much. She's got nothing to worry about from people her age, but I think she feels threatened by the fact that you're more physically mature than her. It's a vague kind of antagonism that I want to get rid of." She continued to frown, so he says, "I'm sorry you're getting caught in it, but... this could never work anyway," he says, gesturing to the two of them. "What kind of friends could we be? You're ten years older than me and you're a teacher. Don't you think it's better that it doesn't go any farther than it has?" She shakes her head. "Jesus... that girl really has you under control, doesn't she?" "Maybe. But I have no choice. It's all part of my greater plan to get her to have sex with me." She exhales sharply. "Could you not joke about this?" "I'm serious! I'm trying to let her know that I'm not playing cards with anyone else. I only want her, and if that gets in the way of you and me then that's just the way things have to be." "I can't believe this... We're just friends! You're practically the only friend I have in this town, and you're telling me I can't talk to you so you can fuck some other girl?" "I'm telling you that I think you should look for other friends. Our friendship was unusual from the start, and it'll just keep getting more awkward." She looks down at the floor for a moment. "Listen," she says, her face softening as her eyes move to his. "If it's really about sex..." "Stop it!" He watches her for a moment with a look of slight confusion. "I don't know if you were gonna say what I think you were, but don't. I'm telling you, there's more going on between us than a friendship and I'm telling you that it has to end. It's not worth the risk. I'm not going to ruin things with Elizabeth by letting this go too far." She looks back at the ground, her teeth held tightly together. For a moment she's silent, then quietly says, "I can't believe you're treating me like this." For a moment he's silent, then says, "It's the best for both of us. I really took it too far already and I'm sorry, but we'll be better off as just teacher and student." She leans back and crosses her legs, not looking at him. For awhile neither of them say a word. Finally she stands up and says, "My class starts soon." He watches her go and waits until he's sure she's gone, then places his head gently against the desk and closes his eyes. Jennifer wanted to have sex with me... she was going to sleep with me... I could have had sex with Jennifer Cantrell... He bangs his head quietly against the desk, then stays motionless even when the bell to start the next class rings. He stays immobile for a few more minutes, eventually deciding that the only thing left to do is to go home and spend the rest of the day masturbating. He hears someone in the hallway and turns his head. He sees Elizabeth, soaking wet, walking quietly down the hallway with no shoes on. He jumps to his feet and dashes out the door, running down the hallway to meet her. "What's going on?" he asks, looking at her wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?" "Shh!" she warns him, glancing around. "Be quiet. I don't want anybody to know I'm here." After ensuring that the hallways are empty she walks up to him. "I was out in the rain and I decided to come see you." "But... you're practically naked!" She smiles at him as she takes his hand and leads him down the hallway. "Come on, let's get out of here. It's creeping me out to be inside for so long." She heads for the nearest exit and pushes the door open, letting go of his hand and walking straight out into the rain. She closes her eyes for a moment, raising her arms as she breathes in deeply. Standing just outside the door, still sheltered from the rain, he smiles at her. "You know, I can see your nipples through that shirt." She smirks and starts to walk backward, toward the woods. He steps unhesitantly into the rain and follows her when she turns to break into a run. He chases after her, following her through a path until they reach the park, where she slows down and turns to face him. He stops, watching her for a moment, and they walk to one another. His arms slide around her waist and their lips meet in a kiss, and he can feel her drawing him gently down. They slip to the ground and he looks into her eyes as she lays against the wet grass, the rain falling against his back.