Chapter 33

The mines were lit by the occasional glowstick; their eerie yellow light caused strange shadows on the walls as Blake and Humbot descended. They passed few other people (or androids). Blake did his best to put the facts that they were a) under thousands of tons of rocks and b) expendable (as heretics and discarded androids who occasionally lapsed into hypertext would be).

"The report states that there is a lode of luthracite up ahead, Blake. However, there is no easy way to get there."

Blake considered. Recovering some luthracite would earn them both extra time in the yard, and possibly the respect of the other heretics.

"Let's go for it," he said.

Chapter 32

Ever since the Android Incident from two years' previous, the heretics had been forced to unload any shipments of androids that arrived at the Work Camp. Blake and the other shunned prisoners worked swiftly, not giving the guards any chance to use their brainstingers. It was the third crate he opened - an android like any other. Humanoid in appearance, distinguishable by its lack of belly button and inability to use inflection in its voice. Brown hair, realistic enough. Blake got his clipboard ready.

"Name?"

"Humbot." The droid pronounced it hyoom-bot.

"Occupation?"

"Adventurer."

"Any known defects?" Blake was bored.

"I occasionally lapse into hypertext when I speak. This has caused damages in courtroom settings. As such, I was marked as defective and sent here."

"Hypertext, huh? No one's used that for a long time." Blake was, despite himself, intrigued.

"I am aware of this. Such are my sins."

"Humbot, could you speak some hypertext now?"

"I certainly could. 'When placing pearls before swine, make sure the pigs won't eat them.'"

Blake frantically looked around to ensure no one had overheard. "A saying from the East? Keep that quiet around here."

"Certainly. What may I call you?"

"My name is Blake Blakesly."

"We are well-met, Blake Blakesly."

Chapter 31

Life at Sharpin slipped into a routine, comfortable only in its familiarity. Shunned by the "mainstream" prisoners, the heretics had the worst jobs and least "free" time of any convicts. They had dangerous assignments in the mines, dangerous missions on the roof, and dangerous assignments in the toiletrooms. Guards were slow to break up fights among the rest of the convicts, but if the heretics scuffled, the guards were quick to break it up, using violence more cavalierly than the prisoners ever could.

A supply of androids in disrepair arrived after about three months. Blake Blakesly didn't know it, but this would have serious consequences on his life.

Chapter 30

Jen was stunned. Of all the surprises she expected from Denise...well, a prom date would have been in the top twenty. It was just stunning that Denise would spring this guy on her here, after a long day of working the steam table. Jen self-consciously ran her hand through her hair, turning her head to surreptitiously make sure she didn't have anything in her teeth.

"Are you ready to meet him?"

"Seriously? I'm gross."

"Oh, you're fine. Come on in, Kevin."

And come on in he did. Jennipher was prepared for a greasy slacker in a black concert T-shirt and torn jeans; Kevin was not greasy, but had on a plain black T-shirt and faded jeans - no rips. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't gorgeous either. Thoroughly average.

"Hi. It's nice to meet you."

Jen stuck her hand out automatically. "Nice to meet you."

"I'll let you two get to know each other," Denise said, with a smirk and a wink, and disappeared back into the restaurant.

"So..."

"So..."

"I'm sorry she sprang me on you like this." Kevin said, hands shoved in his pockets.

"It's okay. But here's the thing - it's not that I need a prom date. It's that...I'm just not going, okay?"

"That's cool. But would you maybe want to go out sometime...not to prom? Just out for coffee or something?"

Jen considered it. "Sure."

Chapter 29

It had been a long day. The steam table had been busy all night, the waitresses had been extra-touchy, and the cooks didn't stop their game of "Kill, Do, or Marry" the entire time. Fortunately, Jen finished at 8:30 and had plans to go home and take a long shower to wash the restaurant smell off of her.

"Hey Denise - I'm out of here."

"Two-shoes! You need to stick around for, like, ten minutes - your surprise is on its way."

"Denise - I don't know. I've had a really long night, and I just want to go home."

"Come on, Jen - this is for you."

"Fine. I'll grab a lemonade - I'll be in the break room."

"And Jen - not to build it up too much, but this could be the best surprise you've ever gotten."

"I'm sure it will." Jen said, unconvincingly.

As she walked through the kitchen to get her lemonade, she tried to ignore the cooks' conversation ("Okay, okay: kill, do, marry: Tina Fey, Princess Leia, and the Hamburglar." "I'd kill Princess Leia for betraying the Empire, do Tina Fey because I love the glasses, and I'd marry the Hamburglar." "The Hamburglar? Really?" "Yeah - he seems like a good provider."). She did not succeed in ignoring the conversation.

TEN MINUTES LATER, IN THE BREAKROOM:

"Jen! Your surprise is here. I got you a prom date!"

Chapter 28

Jen pffffed her hair out of her face as she considered the order tickets in front of her. Two beef sandwiches for a delivery, 4 orders of breadsticks (and two orders of cheesy garlic bread) for dine-ins, and an order of cheese sticks for one of the busboys. Didn't anyone come to a pizza restaurant for pizza anymore?

"Hey Jen," Denise called as she breezed by.

"Hi Denise." Okay, the cheese should be melted on the garlic bread by now.

"Hey, are you all right? I heard you got pulled over a few nights ago."

"I'm fine - can we talk later? I'm slammed right now."

"Sure." Denise smiled. "I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise."

Chapter 27

The guard led Blake down the long hallway to the Trial Room. Silence followed his steps like a wave, as even other prisoners shunned a heretic. Murderers, thieves, Drug-Drug addicts...all turned away. None of the jeering or spitting that other prisoners got - just the silence of shunning.

The door opened into the Trial Room and Blake almost stumbled. The lights were unbelievably bright compared to the cells he had been in for the past month. The steps leading to the center of the room were cut short - a reminder that no matter how high a human placed himself, all differences were insignificant when compared to the All-Powerful.

"This Notification of Trial is called to order." The bailiff was a small man with a weak chin. His skin, the color of old furniture - the kind made of natural wood - was stretched unnaturally tight behind his ears. Presumably, he had been to a Weight Rehabilitation Camp and served his time. The stack of files on the table to his left was over a meter high. The massive calendar book in front of him was pristine and full of writing.

"Sergeant Blake Blakesly, this convening of the court serves to notify you that you will be held without trial for a period not exceeding eighteen months."

"That's it? I don't get to present my defense?"

"Your defense will be presented at Trial. Until then, you are remanded to a work crew in Sharpin."

"Sharpin? But that's -"

"That will be all. You have been notified of your trial. This Notification of Trial is over."

Blake fumed as he was led out. Already, the bailiff had moved on to his next file. Heretics could be held for eighteen months without trial, could they? Sharpin may be notorious for the premature deaths of its prisoners, but Blake knew he could escape. Now, to think of a plan...

Chapter 26

Blake was awaiting Notification of Trial. He had been moved from his private cell to a shared cell. Three other criminals were also waiting for their Notification - an older man in for Robocide, a Punk in for General Conduct Violations, and another Heretic - James Jameson.

"What are you looking at? Shouldn't you be shunning me?" Jameson sneered.

"Are heretics supposed to shun other heretics?"

"You're a heretic?" Jameson seemed surprised. "I had you figured for a military man."

"I am. Was. We'll see how this trial goes."

Jameson laughed, a snortle that chilled Blake's heart.

"What's so funny?"

"I think it's cute that you believe you have a chance of recovering from a heresy charge."

"Why? The Reverend-General gives everyone a fair hearing. That's part of our system."

"Let me ask you this, soldier. Have you ever heard of anyone being found innocent of heresy? Ever? Have you ever heard about anyone receiving their Reptions for false accusation? Ever seen someone be unshunned?"

Blake thought on this - no one had ever been unshunned, had they? As Jameson continued to giggle, a guard came to the door of their cell.

"Blakesly - you're up."

Chapter 25

"That was close."

"I know - if he had died..."

"I don't even want to think about what it would have done to us."

"Us? What about the rest of the world?"

"You're right. I need to get back now."

"See you when I see you."

"That's coming up, isn't it?"

"Bye."

"Bye."

Chapter 24

When Steve came to, the first thing he saw was Vice Principal Rodriguez's some-would-say-oversized nose. Beyond that, he saw the high ceiling and smelled the antiseptic clean of the nurses' office.

"What happened?" he rasped.

"We were wondering if you could tell us, Steve." Vice Principal Rodriguez was all concern.

"Christian was attacking Bobby B, so I..."

"Threw a punch?"

Steve remained silent, focusing on drawing breath. Who knew that being choked into unconsciousness would hurt so much when you woke up?

"Steve? Did you throw a punch?" There was an edge of anger underneath the concern.

"Yes, ma'am. It was all I could think to do."

"You could have called for a teacher."

"I should have."

"And when a teacher came, you kicked him."

"What?"

"You kicked Herr Cottle in the face. He's okay, probably going to have a fat lip, but it is technically assault."

"What?" Steve's surprise dissolved into a fit of coughing. When it cleared, Vice Principal Rodriguez had a small smirk on her face.

"Don't worry, young man. Herr Cottle realizes it was an accident and isn't going to press charges. But there is the small matter of your punishment. Now, Nurse Kats is going to keep you here for observation for the rest of the day. She's also going to recommend you take the next three days off from school."

"I'm suspended?"

"I don't want a suspension to go on your record. But I can't let the other students think you got off without punishment. Having you not around for three days will be enough for them to think you've been suspended, unless you disabuse them of that notion, in which case, yes, a suspension will go on your record."

"Is Bob okay?"

"He's fine. Now get some rest. If you need anything, Nurse Kats is in the next room. I'll see you after three days."

"Bye."

"Feel better, Steve."

Chapter 23

Blake Blakesly was nursing his daily allotment of Parafruit Juice. It was the closest thing to happiness he had experienced during his two months in confinement. The guards who served his meals wouldn't speak with him, gave no sign they heard him when he spoke. That was the way with heretics. They were to be shunned.

Chapter 22

As Steve helplessly watched his fist sail past Christian's chin, time sped up. Specifically, the time it took Christian's knee to drive into Steve's gut. After that it was a bit of a race - his breath leaving him or the pain pulsing through his body. (The race ended in a tie.)

Shockwaves of sound brought Steve back to his senses. Students rushed to watch the disassembling of someone who tried to take on Christian Davis. Bobby B tried to help from his knees, but Christian's Doc Martens' took care of that, snapping a sharp kick and bloodying Bob's nose.

Christian's right hand tightened around Steve's throat. Unable to regain his breath, Steve saw the black creeping in at the edge of his vision and knew he was about to pass out. With a last burst of energy, Steve kicked out and caught a solid mass of flesh with his foot.

"That will show him," Steve thought, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter 21

Steve watched from outside himself as he threw the first punch of his life that he had truly meant. Time slowed; he watched the veins in his wrist bulge, watched the skin in the crook of his elbow stretch. He noticed his thumb and wondered if it should be outside or inside his fist. He thought about the movie "Fight Club" and if this was the first step on a long and dangerous journey.

Unfortunately, he should have been watching and thinking about Christian, who had taken half a step back.

Chapter 20

It was supposed to be an easy day at school. A nice Friday before Spring Break, a nice afternoon watching movies in class instead of doing work. Of course, when you're friends with someone like Bobby B, nice days have an unfortunate way of ending...not so nice.

"What did you say, punk?" the student in front of his was Christian Davis. His perfectly styled hair reflected the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Christian was the type of person that cheated on everything. Classes, girlfriends, the pot he sold. He was, in short, a douchenozzle.

Unfortunately, his left forearm held Bobby B by the neck against a locker. Also unfortunately, no teachers seemed to be monitoring the situation.

"I said those girls were peaches. You must have misheard me." Bobby B eked out.

"Maybe I didn't mishear you. Maybe you want to get beat down."

Steve looked around - still no teachers. (Do I hit him?)

"Hey!" Steve said. (I should have punched him. Dang.)

"What do you want? You want to watch your friend get beat down?"

"I want you to let him go. Everyone knows he's got a big mouth."

"That's true." Bobby B said, and was slammed into the locker again, then Christian let him go and turned to Steve.

"Maybe I should beat you down."

"No no - don't feel obligated." Steve immediately regretted his words.

Without warning, Christian drew back and swung. His fist collided with Steve's jaw, sending him spinning and down to one knee. As Christian laughed, Steve focused on his hand. Without any signal from his brain - in fact, ignoring the signals telling him to walk away, his fingers curled into a fist.

"Oh my God," he had time to think, "I'm the George McFly to Christian's Biff!"

Chapter 19

"Okay, Jen, here we go. As Christians, we believe that God has certain plans for all of us. When people say 'Everything happens for a reason,' this is what they're talking about. God's plan."

"So we can't change anything? Is that what you're saying?" Jennifer asked.

"Not exactly. Again, we believe that part of God's plan is to give us choices. And I don't mean choices like which of the 31 flavors of ice cream to get. I mean choices more about spiritual matters."

"Such as?"

"Such as whether or not we believe in God. On whether we accept that Jesus was the Son of God, and accepting that, that we accept Him into our hearts as our Savior. God gave us that choice."

Jennifer thought a moment. "But wouldn't it make more sense for God to control the 'spiritual matters' and let free will do the rest? You know, in terms of things like where we live, where we work, who we marry. If God is spiritual, then...do you see what I'm saying?"

"I do. And you do still have free will. Let me put it this way: have you ever done something you knew was wrong?"

"Well...I took some lip gloss from a Walgreens when I was 11."

"And you knew it was wrong when you did it, didn't you?"

Jen looked at her feet. "Yes."

"You see? That voice inside - that was God's plan. But you chose to ignore God's plan and exercise your free will, which was to commit that sin."

"But...wouldn't that throw off God's whole plan? If taking that lip gloss went against his plan for me, wouldn't that mess up future situations?"

Pastor Wood smiled. "Well yes, if God were a machine that couldn't adapt. But God takes these situations, these situations that don't fit in and adapts them into a new plan. And if you think of how many people are acting against God's plans all over the world, you begin to realize the awesome power of God."

"I see."

"Do you mind if I ask why you bring all of this up?"

A pause.

"We read part of Slaughterhouse Five in English class, and in there -"

"Ah yes, time is happening everywhere at the same time, and nobody can change anything."

"YOU read Kurt Vonnegut?" Jennifer was surprised.

"I have. In fact, it was 'Galapagos' that led me to some interesting books about evolution and creation and, indirectly, led me to the church."

"Really?"

"Really and truly."

"Thanks, Pastor Wood. I need to get to work, but I appreciate your time."

"No problem, Jen."

She gathered her purse and got up to leave.

"Jennipher, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Regardless of whether you accept that God has plans for you or not - and I believe that he does - know that all of it - ALL of it, fate, free will, where you live, whom you marry, all that - all of it is because he loves you. He loves you with the same awesome power he used to create the universe. First John 4:8b: 'for God is love.'"

"Thanks, Pastor."

"Anytime."

Chapter 18

"Pastor Wood? Jennipher Semmes is here to see you."

"Send her in."

Pastor Wood's office was, in a word, cozy. The wooden bookcases held a copious number of books on (of course) faith and Christianity, his office plants thrived, and it was always the "right" temperature. Pastor Wood himself was a jovial man, a bit overweight, thinning hair, and a huge sincere smile on his face.

"Jennipher! What can I do for you today?"

"Hey, Pastor Wood. It's been a rough few days for me."

"I'm here to help. What's going on? Youth Group giving you trouble?"

"No, the girls are great. It's just that - this is a tough one."

"Take your time."

After a deep breath, Jennifer steeled herself. "How much of life is predetermined?"

Pastor Wood's eyebrows shot up. "That's a pretty deep question."

Jen remained silent.

"It's something that people have been wrestling with since the dawn of man, and let me stress that scholars differ on the matter."

"I'd like to hear as much as possible."

Chapter 17

PROM COMMITTEE MINUTES:
Present for the meeting were Jonna McCarver, Melissa Frobish, Steve Norcutt, "Little" Kueny, and Advisor Kotoly.

The meeting began at 3:35. Melissa presented ideas for favors, including glasses, candles, and scrubs. By a vote of 3-1, scrubs won.

Next, Kueny went over the budget for decorations with the group and showed some of his ideas. This developed into a discussion of prom theme ideas. The following ideas were considered:
The Time of Your Life
One Night In Paradise
Dancing With The Stars
A Magical Evening
Destiny

By a vote of 3-1, "A Magical Evening" won. Steve continued to fight for "Destiny" but Advisor Kotoly took over and said that the matter was settled.

Assignments were divided up as follows:
Jonna - Volunteers to decorate. Hire DJ.
Melissa - Scrubs
Kueny - Get decorations
Steve - Food.

The meeting ended at 5:18.

MF

Chapter 16

"The PROM committee? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, Gar, I am. Little Kueny and I are going to help out. That way we don't have to pay for tickets."

"But still...the prom committee is for...well, it's not for us."

Steve kicked a rock along the ground. "It is since last Friday."

Realization dawned on Gar. "Oh, you've got to be sh-"

"Listen. If I can't go with Jennipher, I don't want to go. But I have to go, and I have to have a reason not to have a date. Being on the prom committee is that reason. I'll go early, decorate, maybe help the DJ set up, I don't know. Then I go home, get cleaned up, show up, eat dinner, then stay off the dance floor all night, then clean up. The committee is the perfect cover for not having a date."

"I don't see how it's a perfect cover. You're still going to be there by yourself."

"No no no, brother. Here's what I say: 'I was going to bring a date, but it didn't seem fair to any girl to not give her the whole special Prom experience. I'll be so busy helping set up and clean up that I wouldn't have time to devote to a date.'"

"I think you're crazy."

Steve pursed his lips in thought.

"Yeah, I probably am. But I told Little Kueny I'd help out, so I'm already committed."

"So Prom Committee?"

"Prom committee. I'll see you after the meeting."

"Deuces."

"Deuces."

Chapter 15

Stares-At-The-Sun waited patiently. Heat from the overhead sun came in waves with the breeze. Plan were in motion. Soon.

Chapter 14

Blake Blakesly tried to relax, but it wasn't happening. His sleepicle was too small to pace properly, so he fidgeted, awaiting words from headquarters.

As he stewed, he thought about how he had gotten into the service. After the compulsory physical fitness exams in school had disqualified him from the glory of holovision actor (curse my physical fitness!), he had considered going into the civil service, but that application required a fee. Joining the Service had been free. Hello, Service.

Basic Training had been great. Because of the number of lawsuits (many of which were still pending), it had all been classroom-based with frequent breaks and recesses. He had learned how to make lemonade and write poetry. And, theoretically, how to handle a Weapon.

Then came the Tour of Duty in Low America. He had killed a man for the first time there, an Enemy soldier who had stumbled into their party while tracking game. Others froze, but Blakesly calmly pulled his Weapon out of its designer bag and shot the man in the head. Then, to ward off any nightmares, his entire group wrote poetry about their feelings.

And now this. A charge of disobedience...but no one would seriously have expected him to go back for his Squad Leader's lucky cap, would they? It was ridiculous.

Just then there was a knock at the door as a letter was slide under it. Hands trembling slightly, Blake opened the letter.

"Blake Blakesly. Due to your recent actions concerning deliberate disobedience of Squad Leader orders, you are to appear before the Minister-General in seven days to be tried for Heresy."

Chapter 13

Smithson turned toward the stairwell.

"Why aren't they coming up?"

Blake considered the situation. "They don't know how much ammo we have. For all they know, we could have a Repeatogun up here waiting for them. Can you get Squad Leader Jonesfoot on the Talkwave?"

As Smithson fiddled with the controls of his Talkwave, Blake looked around the room, frantic for escape. He noticed a water stain in the ceiling in the corner of the room.

"Blake - we're got a Hoverliftandcarrier coming in two minutes!"

"Let's go, Smithson."

As they headed to the corner with the ruined ceiling, a Poisonogas canister landed in the room!

Quick like a jackrabbit, Blake drew and fired into the ceiling - parts of it rained all over the room. As the Poisonogas spread, he lifted Smithson, who used his Combatosharptorch to cut through the floor above them. He reached down, desperate to grab Blake's arm. Energy fading, Blake leaped and grabbed onto Smithson's hand. Smithson heaved him up through the gap.

It took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs, but with Smithson's urging, Blake was soon on his feet and heading to the roof stairwell. They emerged into the evening air, hot with a bite of cool. Looking around, Blake saw the rest of his squad on the roof next door. The Hoverliftandcarrier was preparing for touchdown under heavy fire.

Blake and Smithson wasted no time in sprinting across the rooftop and leaping the small gap to the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.

"Good to see you guys!" Smithson called, over the roar of the Hoverengine.

As they clambered into the Hoverliftandcarrier, Squad Leader Jonesfoot lost his cap. It was a fluke gust of wind that had powered through the Hoverengine.

"My cap!"

The soldiers watched it blow away, off the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.

"My lucky cap! Go get it, Blakesly!"

"Sir! That's insane! There must be fifty Enemy troops down there!"

"Get my cap!"

"No, sir!"

"Blakesly, are you disobeying a direct order?"

"Sir, I don't want to get shot for your cap!"

Squad Leader Jonesfoot stared at him. "One last chance, soldier."

"Sorry, sir."

Jonesfoot shook his head. "Get us out of here, pilot."

As the Hoverliftandcarrier took off, the other soldiers made a point not to look at Blake Blakesly. Smithson, still not looking at him, leaned closer. "You're in big trouble, man."

Chapter 12

Blake was pinned down in an abandoned Holo-drome. He had three bullets left, and there were at least fifty Enemy troops outside. Their catcalls rang in his ears, daring him to come out, promising small mercies ("We won't cut off all of your fingers!"). Help was on its way, but Blake didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

His squad had been on recon in the Dark Sector when they came upon a small group of the Enemy. Quickly, Squad Leader Jonesfoot had ordered his men to capture the small group - unaware that this small group was part of a much, much, much, much larger group of the Enemy. Much larger.

Two had been killed by the Enemy, leaving six to retreat, frantically and without much organization. The chaos of battle always nauseated Blake. He and Smithson had holed up in the Holo-drome (As a measure of how long it had been abandoned, it still advertised 'Rose's Art,' which hadn't been in theaters for at least - at LEAST thirty years.) while Squad Leader Jonesfoot and three others had taken refuge in the Vitapaste-Mart next door.

"Are they still out there?" Smithson asked. Jorndt, how much could one man sweat?

To answer, Blake put his helmet on the gun and slowly raised it to the level of the window. It was immediately shot from about six directions and the helmet went spinning across the room. Sweat flew from Smithson's lips.

"Yeah. They're still out there."

Chapter 11

Partial clipping recovered from a five-year old issue of The Weekly Buzz:

ASTRONOMER'S DEATH PUZZLES COLLEAGUES, POLICE

Police continue to search for clues in the mysterious death of Dr. Heinrich van Hausmann, who was found dead in the Hilltop Observatory parking lot early Sunday morning.

"The coroner said he's never seen anything like this," Police Spokesperson Kenneth Koperski said. "It appears the good doctor's heart exploded in his chest. Investigations will continue.

Chapter 10

Jennipher was shaken. The police officer had given her a ticket, refused to chase the black car, and called her mother. She had come to meet Jen and couldn't decide whether she was angry or relieved. It seems calls from the police had a tendency to rattle parents.

And now, as she lay in bed, staring at the slow spin of the ceiling fan, she let her mind wander. Replaying the harrowing drive home over and over again; sometimes close to the truth, sometimes with details embellished or erased. Sometimes she escaped the car, sometimes it forced her off the road. Sometimes another car was involved, a whole fleet of black sedans, waiting to hurt her.

Sometimes she couldn't see the driver of the car, sometimes she could. Sometimes it was the police officer, her mother, the creepy guy from Alligretti's, Denise...and sometimes it was Steve, the look in his eyes piercing her more than a car accident could.

And then, when she could handle her dreams no more (for dreams is what they were), she saw a wide-open plain. A veldt, somewhere in Africa. From far above, from the eyes of a majestic bird, she saw a herd of zebras at a watering hole, elephants eating from trees. She saw native children playing with a battered soccer ball, giraffes running across the grassland. And then, circling down, she saw a lion. It was fierce and proud and unafraid of its surroundings. But not unaware; she felt great wisdom from this creature. Her dream-self landed on a tree branch.

A giggling growl from behind, and she swung around to see a hyena, blood dripping from its muzzle. She looked back to the lion, who was gone. A man stood in its place. The same nobility, the same wisdom. His skin the color of mud, hoops in his left ear. Markings on his crest and face. Native.

"I am waiting for you," he said.

Jen snapped awake, stifling a scream. Her digital clock read 3:42. That was enough sleep for tonight. She couldn't go back and face that hyena. Dream or no dream, she was awake for the day.

Chapter 9

"See you later, guys!" Jen called. She climbed into her car, a slightly-worn Pontiac Grand Prix. She checked the backseat to ensure her backpack was still there (it was, and that meant no excuse for not getting Mr. McCafferty's Chem homework done) and started the car.

Jen turned out of the parking lot and began the short drive home. As she drove, she sang along with the radio. Perhaps, if she had been slightly more focused, she would have noticed the black Audi following her from the beginning. If she hadn't been thinking about Steve and Prom, maybe she would have noticed it inch closer to her bumper. In fact, she didn't notice it until it accelerated, nudging her back bumper.

"What the -?"

Jen's heart skipped a beat (or two) as she accelerated. She reached for her cell phone, fumbling it and dropping it under the passenger seat. The Audi tapped her bumper again, harder this time. She yelped as her car fishtailed. Angry and frightened, she floored her accelerator and shot around a curve. Undaunted, the Audi kept pace, gaining.

She yanked the wheel left, around another sharp turn. Now that she had a straightaway, she reached for her phone again, finding it this time. The Audi pulled close again; Jen swerved into the oncoming lane. As she flashed past a cross-street, she glimpsed a police cruiser. Praying silently for the police to realize what was going on, she was rewarded when the cruiser squealed its tires to pursue both speeding cars.

Without signalling, Jen sped into a drugstore parking lot and slammed on the brakes. Her tires screeched and she hopped out into a well-lit area. The Audi pulled in right behind her and stopped. Jen froze, tharn in the headlights of the mysterious car. The driver of the Audi revved his engine once, toying with her, before pulling out of the parking lot and speeding away. As Jen tried to make out a license number, the police car squealed to a stop behind her.

"What in the name of Gene Hackman is going on here?" the cop yelled.

As she wiped the tears of anger and fear away, Jen could only sniffle "I don't know, Officer. I don't know."

Chapter 8

He walked with a limp, favoring his left leg. His trenchcoat was possibly dark gray or black but covered with a thin layer of dirt. His hair, thinning and graying, was always meticulously styled. Lines marked his eyes and mouth, although no one at Alligretti's had ever seen him smile. Even Bebe, the waitress with the longest tenure at the restaurant, hadn't seen him change his expression.

"How are you today, sir?" Denise asked, moving to seat the man.

"Fine," he said, looking at Jen.

"Usual table and order?"

"Yes." He kept staring at Jen. She shifted uncomfortably and picked up a spray bottle of cleaner and rag, more for something to get the weight of his gaze off of her.

Denise led the man to his seat and came back with a pained expression on her face. "He just sends shivers down my spine - and not the good kind, either. Bad shivers."

"Bad shivers?" Jen forced a smile. "Nice."

"Anyway, you were going to tell me about this guy. What happened? You guys do it and he said he'd call and never did?"

"No!" Jen was still surprised by the frank way Denise approached sex. "He asked me to prom, and..."

"...and he's going to make you bring the protection?"

Okay, now Denise was just messing with her.

"Forget it."

"Oh come on, Jenny Two-shoes. What's up?"

"Fine. And I had to tell him I couldn't go."

"Why can't you go? I gave you that weekend off so you could go to prom!"

"You know how sometimes you know something is wrong - you know it! - and you really want to do it, but can't, because it's wrong?"

Denise raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you're talking to the wrong person."

"I don't mean wrong like that. Like, I think that if I went to prom, some really bad things would happen."

"Bad things like...........?"

Jen pursed her lips, unsure of how much to share. Denise was a friend, but a friend with a habit of running her mouth.

"Never mind. I'll figure it out. You've got an order up."

Denise headed back to the steam table, looking over her shoulder as she went. "We're not done, Two-shoes."