Roswell Fanatics

Title: Everything Short of Clarity
Author: StarGazing101
Disclaimer: I own nothing, got it?
Rating: MATURE, but may go into ADULT territory. I haven’t quite decided yet.
Couple: A/I. K/T. CC/UC.
Genre: Alien Abyss due to temporary and permanent UC ‘ships/AU without Aliens
Summary: How can you confess how you feel when not everything’s out on the table?
Author’s Note: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? This idea has been in my head for a while, so I decided to just write it and see what comes of it.

It's hard, I must confess.
I'm banking on the rest to clear away,
'Cause we have spoken everything.
Everything short of I love you.
The Fray - Hundred



<center>Chapter One</center>



Everyday, he watched her.

Not in the creepy, 'I want to know the specific scent of your shampoo stalker kind of way', but in a manner that spoke strictly of polite curiosity.

During the school year, she made the same rounds everyday. In the mornings, she’d head straight to her locker and take out her books for her morning classes and drop off her afternoon texts. She’d check her make-up, slam the metal door shut with a loud clank, and walk to her first hour class. She always made sure to get to school with just enough time to do this short routine each morning, her heels clicking rhythmically behind her.

This year, they happened to share half their schedule, and at all the perfect times: first hour, fourth and fifth hour, and seventh hour. A little more than half, but just one class together would’ve made Alex Whitman deliriously happy. He was able to see her first thing in the morning, before and after lunch, and at the end of the day. It was a plus that she never missed a day of school.

In the afternoons, Alex used to ride his bike home, (though he now had a nifty bug to drive instead), and would sometimes see her running laps around the track in her volleyball uniform sans pads, usually ahead of most of the other girls, or laughing along with them. He had once been so mesmerized that he had bicycled right into a fence, where she had hastily run over and asked if he were okay. He had responded with a hushed ‘Yeah, I’m fine,” (more than likely the tips of his ears were red), and she smiled and rejoined her team on the track, where her teammates stood laughing. One of his more embarrassing moments, but she had seen plenty in their short lifetimes. He could write a novel of all the times he’d made a fool of himself in front of her.

“Alex!” he heard a feminine voice call, “Anybody home in there?” she said, playfully pretending to knock on his head.

“Yes, there is someone home, and he’d like it if you’d so kindly not knock the furniture out of place,” he responded quite seriously, getting a laugh from her. “Since this is our last day of summer, what do you want to do?”

“You know, I think I’d like to swim today,” she glanced over her shoulder at the gleaming water of the pool behind her. She stood up and dusted her skirt off, reaching a hand out to Alex. “Good idea?”

“You know, that does sound like a good idea,” Alex acquiesced, “because it’s really hot today, and not having a dip in the pool would be stupid.” He pushed himself up, with her help.

“That’s what I thought.” She smirked at him. “I’m going to go change. So I’ll see you in five minutes, ten tops.” She crossed over to his back fence and opened the gate, where he heard his gate close and hers open and shut.

There was one thing that held him back from revealing his feelings to her, and that was the fact that Isabel Evans was his best friend.

Isabel lived across the alley, in a spacious, two-story house, with her mother, father, and three brothers. She was the oldest of the children in her family, and the most outgoing. The Evans were a very involved family in Roswell, with her father being a very high profile divorce lawyer, with his own firm, and her mother was an scrub nurse at Roswell Memorial, who spent her free time caring for her children and volunteering. It was obvious to Alex that Isabel would probably follow in similar footsteps to her mother, but it was still a bit too early to call, as she was also quite stubborn and ambitious, like her father. Really though, he could see her following in either of their career paths.

Realizing that he had yet to move from where he stood, Alex went into the house to change into his swimming trunks. Looking at himself in the mirror, he was still shocked at how much different he appeared, after having went to his annual Baseball training camp this summer. At least, that’s what everyone thought. Isabel had come jogging toward him at the airport when he had arrived home a week ago, only to halt in her tracks and stare at him like a slack-jawed yokel.

“Mr. Whitman! What have you done to yourself?” she had exclaimed, her dark eyes sparkling and a few out-of-place strands falling wispily on her face.

In truth, he expected her reaction and couldn’t help but to pretend to see what all the hubbub was about, seeing that his mother was giggling and that his father seemed intrigued. So Alex had checked himself out.

“I don’t really see any difference,” Alex said, feigning innocence and turning around. “I mean, yeah, I lost some weight, but nothing spectacular.” But he knew he was lying. He had dropped almost fifteen pounds of baby fat at camp and had grown another inch or so, making him 6’3” now, but he remembered that his father had mentioned going through the same thing at around his age. “Not that big of a deal,” he concluded.

Isabel scoffed then fiercely wrapped her arms around him. “Whatever you say,” she had whispered in his ear, and had winked at him.

Making his way through the kitchen and to the Arcadia door, he noticed that Isabel had come back and was laying her towel out on one of the deck chairs. After she had set her things down, she squeezed a good amount of sunscreen into her hands and began to apply it in a circular motion on her shoulder and down her arm. He couldn’t help but to admire her physique as she did so, even if it was just her back.

Alex had two favorite bathing suits that he liked seeing Isabel wear. One was the current one she had on, which was a brown bikini that covered her just enough for her mother to let her leave the house. It had a red flower on the left breast of the top and small patch of flowers on the right hip on the bottom. His other choice was a yellow and turquoise polka dot two-piece that she had bought last summer on a dare given by her friends. She had kept the bikini hidden from her mother and had brought it over to his house when he had invited her over for a late night swim. The top had only had enough material to cover her breasts’ nipples and areolas while the bottom was a g-string that had jeweled accessories attaching the front of the swimsuit bottom to the back. Alex had thanked the higher powers that he was already in the water when she had shown off in it.

As long as she wore the brown swimsuit, Alex could keep his bodily functions in control. Otherwise, he would quickly dive into the cool water to hide his tented swimming trunks.

“You comin’ out?” Isabel yelled to him from outside, now lathering a generous amount of sun block to her legs.

He slid open the door and gently slid it closed. “How can I come out with no closets around?” he questioned, once again receiving a giggle and an eye roll from her. “I see you chose the brown swimsuit today.” He came and sat on the deck chair next to hers.

“My mom’s home,” she said, “so there was no way I was going to even get out of my room with my other bikini. Though,” her eyes twinkled mischievously, “I did want to wear it today.” She sucked in her bottom lip and pointedly gazed up at him, stifling a laugh when she noticed how wide his eyes had grown.

“Really? Did we feel the need to give Alex a heart attack today?”

“Of course!” She hit him lightly on the arm. “It’s our last day! I haven’t done anything risqué because you had to go and be off at Baseball camp for two months, again!” She finished rubbing in the sunscreen and stretched, her top lifting slightly.

Alex placed his attention somewhere else momentarily, as his mind had erased itself of any coherent thoughts. Quickly recovering once she stopped stretching, he responded, “So you did miss me?! That’s very sweet of you, because I couldn’t have done anything risqué without you either,” he grinned, amused at the idea of Isabel wanting to do something risqué. Then again, Isabel was much bolder than he was, but not enough to really call her a risk-taker.

“Whatever,” she articulated, traipsing to the pool and dipping her toes into the water. “Oh, it’s nice today.” She placed both her feet in and sat at the large step at the deep end, swinging her feet under water. “So you never did tell me what you got up to at that training thing of yours. Anything that might just interest me?” she raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would not go into detail about the Baseball part of it. She loved some sports; Baseball just wasn’t one of them.

Reading her mind, he replied, “Well, since I know you hate Baseball, there’s not much to say.” He shrugged his shoulders, and proceeded. “I saw most of the same guys I saw last year, even stayed in the same cabin as two of the ones I had in my cabin last year. Kyle Valenti hasn’t changed one bit.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she interjected.

“Well, actually, no. There was one thing.” Isabel's eyebrows rose curiously. “He has a steady girlfriend. Been going out with her for the past six months.”

“Who? Anyone from in town?” Isabel had known Kyle for a long time, and had never known him to be quite so committed.

“Er, the girl that was in your French class last year. What was her name?” He briefly contemplated on the girl’s name, and then snapped his fingers. “Tess! Her name’s Tess.”

Isabel actually laughed out loud at this. “You’re kidding me, right?” When he answered with nothing but an entertained glint in his eyes, her mouth fell open. “Wow. That’s an interesting combination, but I can so totally see it.” Alex nodded at this, and she went on. “She’s bubbly, but very cute. She’s also not an airhead, which will be good for him. I used to worry what horrible damage those cheerleaders at his school would wreak on him.” Again, Alex agreed. “Also, their both short,” she bluntly added. “It works.”

Alex snorted at this. “That’s so awful, Is.”

“What! It’s true!” The pitch of her voice rose slightly. “Seriously? Kyle is one of the shortest guys I know, and he dating all those tall cheerleaders just never looked right. A petite, blonde Tess will make a wonderful difference! Add to the fact that she’s not superficial, it’ll be therapeutic for Kyle.”

“You do make a good point.”

“Don’t I always?”

She couldn’t have been cheekier in her reply, but Alex was used to this. He watched her dive into the water from the step, and come up from the middle of the deep water. Her mouth was curved into a stunning smile, and she brought her hands up to wipe the water off her face, her legs kicking furiously under water to keep her afloat.

“Jump in, Alex,” she whined. “The water’s absolutely perfect.”

Feeling that the sun had beaten down on him enough, Alex stood up and shed his white T-shirt and flip-flops, and dove in. He came up out of the water and shook the water off himself, like a dog that had just been hosed off.

“It does feel nice today. Usually it’s too warm at this time of year.”

“Yeah,” Isabel answered softly, hiding beneath the diving board. “So continue.”

Having forgotten that she had asked about camp, he said, “Oh, yeah. Anyway, do you remember that Ramirez kid I bitched about last year?”

“Yeah, how could I forget? You wouldn’t shut up about him for weeks. ‘That effing guy hit every one of my line drives. He just wouldn’t be struck out! He’s an ass.’” She mocked her friend. “Sound familiar?”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Yes, you do. Now finish what you were going to say.”

“Anyway, so we had just finished warm-ups and split up into two teams. As per usual, I’m pitcher, and Ramirez’s team was up to bat. When it’s his turn, he comes up to the plate, smugly taps the bat on the inside of his shoe soles, and smirked at me, like he’s saying that he’s better than me.” Alex paused and dipped under the water to cool off. “Well, that doesn’t sit well with Alex Whitman. I wanted to strike this asshole out, and I mustered all the strength I could into those next three pitches, and to say I did is an understatement.”

“What happened?” Isabel swum out from beneath the diving board toward Alex, and swum past him, deciding to sit, half submerged, on the steps of the shallow end.

“I struck the bastard out.”

“Careful, Alex, you’re beginning to sound like some of your macho jock friends,” she warned.

“Well, I don’t like the guy. I can sound out of character once in a while, can’t I?”

“No, you’re not allowed to.” She was staring curiously at her hand, cleaning her nails with the nails of her other hand.

“And why not, might I ask?” He walked toward her, a devilish sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Well – wait! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Seeing that Alex was advancing on her, she dove into the water and swam toward the deep end, where Alex swum after her. When they both came up for a breath, she splashed water in his face and continued to swim away from him, coming up for breaths and to laugh. Eventually, Alex had caught up with her and had her cornered under her favorite lounging spot, under the diving board.

They were both out of breath, and Alex had his legs on either side of her, keeping her penned in. Her breath was hot on his bare chest, and he had to force himself to keep his vision on her own, as he breasts were bouncing buoyantly in the water from her heavy breathing. Good thing she didn’t wear her other swimsuit[/i], he thought. Her brown eyes were glimmering dangerously, and she struggled against his legs as she attempted to release herself from his hold, not quite yet having recovered her breath to evade him under the water.

“Uh-uh, Miss Evans, you will not escape me!” he smiled, licking his teeth.

“Oh, I will,” she said, proceeding to struggle. “I just need to catch my breath.”

“For a volleyball player, I would think that you would have done so already,” he stated, bringing his legs in closer. He could feel her hips press into his ankles.

“Swimming more vigorous,” she simply replied, wrapping her arms around the diving board to lift her up as best she could.

Unfortunately, for Alex, this gesture lifted her buxom bosom out of the water and into his line of vision, where they continued to lightly bob from her breathing. He could not take his eyes off of them, and before he knew it, not only was his eyes left to stare, but his body left to react. His face paled when he noticed that Isabel’s body had temporarily stiffened, and she stared at him with reddened cheeks and her mouth somewhat agape.

“I hope that’s one of those toy pool sticks poking the inside of my thigh right now.”

Alex was completely mortified.

Thanks for the feedback: Sternbetrachter, Stargazer's Delight, KarenEvans, and KaraGail. Also, thank you to anyone who's reading and lurking. It's greatly appreciated!

This chapter, yet again, features Alex and Isabel with mentions of other characters. We'll actually see the gang, though in slightly different roles, in the next chapter, as it's their first day of school. Should prove interesting, shouldn't it?



<center>Chapter Two</center>



Alex and Isabel sat outside of the pool in companionable, though somewhat awkward, silence, drying off. Alex had retreated to the shallow end of the pool after his erection had prodded Isabel’s thigh, and sulked, and she had continued to swim, leaving Alex to wallow. She knew Alex all too well, and that when he embarrassed himself in such a capacity, that he preferred not to discuss it. After fifteen minutes of self-pity and analysis, Alex had drifted to the deep end again and continued to swim with Isabel for another hour, with no mention at all of what happened. They had discussed things ranging from sports to their hopes for their senior year. The water had eventually got too warm and was tantamount to bath water, so they had got out.

Taking her hair brush from her bag, Isabel stroked it through her hair, watching the wet strands untangle. From next to her, she heard Alex sigh. Having had enough, she said, “Oh, quit it, will you? So you had an erection? It happens.”

“Just because ‘it happens’, doesn’t make it any less embarrassing,” he replied, patting his legs dry. A beat later he added, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Not that I feel you have anything to apologize for,” she said, gazing up to see that he was finally making eye contact with her again. “You’re lucky we didn’t invite anyone else over. Believe me, worse things have happened.”

“Name one,” he countered.

She maneuvered in her chair to get more comfortable, and then asked, “Did I ever tell you what happened at Vicky Delaney’s party last year? You were doing something important that day, so you couldn’t go.”

“I don’t believe you ever told me. I only heard from Sean that there were too many idiots, too little alcohol and just enough pot to last him through the night. Of course, you know Sean. He’s vague as hell.”

“I still find it odd that you’re so buddy-buddy with Sean, but can barely remember his sister’s name,” Isabel observed.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. “Sean and Tess only moved here a couple years ago. I don’t know his family well. It’s not like we’re that ‘buddy-buddy’, as you so kindly put it. The guy infuriates me, I’ll admit that, but his off the wall comments about the world and politics just kill me. Seriously, who would’ve of thought a guy who casually smokes the MJ and drinks his own body fluid in alcohol could be so politically driven and comedic?” Again, he made a gesture with his shoulders and then made a rotating motion with his hand for her to finish telling the story.

“Intriguing,” she said, a skeptical expression crossing her youthful features. “So anyway, I was standing by her pool, talking to Courtney and Liz about the up and coming season when Malamoot,” his name rolled off her tongue like she had just swallowed a sour-tasting bug, “waltzed over, ego and all, gracing us with his self-absorption and alcohol breath.”

Alex nodded. In junior high, Isabel had dated the guy for three months, and called it quits. She had commented that Malamoot primped more than she did, and that was a little too scary for her to digest. Then high school came around and Malamoot’s already inflated ego had folded over on itself a couple times and was now ten times the size it used to be. The only reason he hadn’t died from Ego-it is was that, when living up to his three-pronged sports reputation, that being Football, Basketball, and Baseball, the coaches would tear him a new one for even one wrong word. Alex had always found a grim satisfaction at having this knowledge, especially when the coach was yelling at Malamoot to pay attention or to run the track until he felt the need to focus his efforts on the ball rather than the girls on the Softball team.

“Fun,” Alex shortly commented in reply to her last statement.

“So he puts his arm around my shoulder, and I pick up his hand and throw it away from me. I’m like, ‘What do you want?’ and he responds with this sleazy remark about picking up ‘where we left off’ and ‘heading inside to get reacquainted.’ That, of course, did not bowl over well with me, and I then say, ‘Really? Would that be the part where I knee you in the groin and push you into the pool?’”

“Oh, my God, you didn’t?” An incredulous look was on Alex’s face, his eyes shining with amusement. “Bet you showed him . . .”

“I did, but unfortunately, he showed me, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you remember that swimsuit I had last year that tied in the back on the top and on the sides on the bottom? The white, yellow, and green one?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said truthfully, glancing down for a moment, not really wanting to think about swimsuits after the incident earlier.

Isabel glanced at the ground for a moment then slowly lifted her head. Then said, “I hadn’t realized it, but after I had thrown his hand from my shoulder, he had put it on my back,” and shuddered at the thought of Malamoot touching her. “When I pushed him into the pool, he snatched the strings of my top and had pulled them out of their tie.”

Alex stared, horror-struck.

“Yeah, I swear, it seemed like half the school was there to debut the unveiling of my double-Ds.” She laughed distastefully at the memory, and then added, “So really, Alex, thank your higher power that it was just you and I swimming today. Seriously, if Sean or Kyle had been here, you would have never lived it down.”

Alex concurred, and actually smiled. “As per usual, you’re right. I assume your teammates were not happy about this?” he questioned, since he fully knew Courtney Banks and Liz Parker would not take lightly to their captain being de-topped.

“Yeah, I seriously could have kissed those two that day. You know, Courtney is such a bitch toward most, yet can be like your best friend.” Isabel stood up from where she sat and began to walk the outer edge of the pool. “So there was this guy at the party who had a digital camera and took a picture at the very moment my top popped off. So Courtney, being the über aggressive girl she is, takes the guy by the hair, grabs his camera, and throws it and him into the water. Liz, on the other hand, picked my top off the ground and hastily helped me put it back on.”

“I told you that Liz was a good pick for the team,” Alex remarked, getting up and walking to the Arcadia door. “You hungry?” he asked, sliding the door open.

“Yeah,” she said, jogging inside and sliding the door behind her. “Liz was the first Freshman Varsity player Roswell High has had in a couple years,” Isabel said, changing back the subject. “She’s an excellent player, albeit a bit shy. From what I heard from Max, she’s also the smartest girl in her class.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Have you met her father, Jeff Parker?” Alex asked, taking out some bread and lunch meats from the refrigerator, “A bit eccentric, especially since he only minored in mathematics and went into hospitality instead, but damn if he isn’t mathematical genius. He’s pretty good at guitar, as well.”

He placed the food in his arms on the counter and took out four slices of wheat bread from the loaf, handing two to Isabel. Whilst making their sandwiches they discussed the properties of genius and insanity, and how closely related the two were in most cases. Alex stated that masterminds and anyone who possessed an IQ of 160 and higher were more likely to do something rash and crazy than any ‘normal’ person, but tended to make some brilliant discovery out of it.

“Or it will just fall on their head, effecting said person to obsess and become paranoid that the apple fell because of this berserk concept called ‘gravity,’” Isabel suggested in response, making air quotes. She then walked over to the ‘frige and snatched a bag of chips from on top of it.

“So you’re saying that Newton was bit touched in the head?” Alex took a bite of his sandwich, looking pointedly at Isabel.

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m saying that without little Johnny Appleseed, he would have never fallen paranoid and discovered gravity.”

“So you’re saying that when the apple fell that his genius came to life by insanity, rather than the other way around?”

“Yes,” she said, all ready exasperated by their conversation. “Quit pointing out the obvious, will you?”

“That’s the second time today you’ve ask me to quit something,” he said quite seriously, evoking a rather nasty look from her. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop all ready,” he surrendered. “And just what, might I ask, are you doing?” He pulled a face at what she was putting on her sandwich.

Isabel had taken a bag of plain Lays potato chips from above the refrigerator and had begun to place some on her bologna sandwich. She then replaced the top piece of bread, and took a bite. With her mouth full of sandwich, she told him to shut up.

“You know that’s disgusting, right? They say guys are gross with food, but I have seen more girls put crazy things on their food, like potato chips on a bologna sandwich, than guys having a ring of Buffalo wing sauce slobbered around their mouths and down their shirts.”

“Again,” she said, having swallowed this time, “shut up.”

Alex put his hands up in the air, forfeiting to her power. “Very ladylike, Is. They are going to praise that majestic quality when you become a debutante.”

“Yes, and they are going to bow down to me and make alters of me,” she supplied with the utmost of sarcasm.

Finding that it was a losing battle, he inquired, “Speaking of which, when does that debutante thing start anyway?”

“Second Monday of September,” she answered. “I have it every Monday night, after Volleyball practice. Really sucks, because I’m at school from 7:30 until 5:00, then I have to run home, shower and change, and be at the church the meetings are held by 7:00, and I’m there for two hours. Then I get to go home, do homework and go straight to bed.”

“Uh, when do you eat in there?” Alex attempted to do the math.

“I’m not sure, somewhere between running home and being at church.”

“So you eat in the shower then?” He received a slap on the arm from her. “Anyway, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about going home and playing FFX.”

Alex rolled his eyes. In any down time that Isabel had from her hectic schedule and social life, she would either play Final Fantasy or watch her Sailor Moon DVDs. She’d been playing Final Fantasy since she could hold a game controller. When she entered high school, she had to cut it out, but now that it was her senior year, and she knew her homework load would not be quite as demanding, she gave in and bought Final Fantasy X, and was addicted to the franchise again.

When it came to television, Isabel and Alex shared a love of anime and crime/detective shows, and used to watch Toonami on Cartoon Network together every afternoon and CSI every Thursday, before extracurricular activities had taken over her life. Alex missed watching their shows with her, but recorded whatever he could when he had the time.

His social life was nowhere near anything like Isabel’s. Yes, he had friends and acquaintances, especially since his parents had pushed him to go for Baseball in high school rather than sticking to little league in the summers, but his schedule would never quite be as busy as his best friend’s. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he always admired that Isabel was able to keep so well adjusted in light of having little to no leisure time.

With Isabel’s and his parents’ encouragement, he had got involved in a few clubs and became ‘the guy that everyone knows’. He was a very well-liked and considerate, and the person that everyone just enjoyed being around. He was invited to parties constantly, though only went to a select few, and what he thought would be the most awful experience of his life had turned out to not be quite so bad. It was an odd feeling, coming out of the shell he had made for himself in junior high, to becoming ‘the all-around guy’. Not only that, but in his high school Baseball career, he was known as the ‘Prodigal Pitcher;’ a nickname that had come out of a newspaper article written about him in his sophomore year. His coaches often fantasized about scouts roving the area and seeing him play, that he would have his career set by the time he was twenty-two. Add to the fact that his grades were stellar and he made time to give back to his community, he was a shoe in.

“Alex? Are you spacing again?” Isabel quizzed, shaking his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m here. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away, but took time to gaze upon her. Her skin was lightly tanned from spending a summer swimming and doing outside community service. Her hair was messy, and long, strands ending right above her navel. As much as she hated it, she still had some baby fat, mainly in her face, but Alex had always heard that it took women longer to lose it than men.

“Nothing important,” he finally said.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in first hour tomorrow.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “That thing from earlier today, don’t’ worry about it. I won’t tell anyone.”

As Alex watched her gather her things and leave, and he wondered briefly if he heard some preoccupation in her voice, like she was contemplating on something else when she had spoken. Shaking the thought away, he locked his back gate and headed back inside the house, where he checked the time.

“Three o’clock,” Alex read, surveying in his mind what exactly he could be doing. A grin crept on his face and he ran into the living room and set up his Playstation II. Jumping onto the couch, he played Halo until his parents got home from work.



That night Isabel tiptoed to her bedroom, having stayed up playing Final Fantasy longer than she had intended, but was satisfied at her progression in the game and had finally decided to head to bed. Closing the door gently behind her, she changed into her pajamas and brushed her hair then settled beneath her covers.

She had left Alex’s with her head filled with questions and speculations of what had happened earlier that day, not that she really needed to question it, but his, er, reaction to her had surprised her, if truth be told. She had even felt slightly aroused by it, and was grateful that Alex hadn’t paid any attention to her breasts; otherwise, things may have headed to places she did not want to imagine going with her best friend.

Whoa, she thought, not wanting to believe that she and Alex would ever do such a thing. Is he sexually attracted to me? she questioned. I mean, obviously, it’s not a bad thing, per se, but . . . have – is this the first time he’s you know . . . ?

Isabel growled in frustration, not really sure what she was attempting to piece together in her own head. Feeling a migraine on the horizon, she turned over onto her side and emptied her head of anything difficult, wanting to ease herself into a deep slumber.



You and me, have seen everything to see,
From Bangkok to Calgary,
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down.
The time for sleep is now.

Death Cab for Cutie – I Will Follow You into the Dark

Thanks for the feedback: KarenEvans, Sternbetrachter, KaraGail, Stargazer's Delight, and cardinalgirl. Also, thank you to anyone who's reading and lurking. It's greatly appreciated!

The interaction between Alex and Isabel in that last chapter was a lot of fun to write. I wanted to show that they have a very deep friendship, that's mature and personal, with moments of sillyness and odd discussions, just like anyone else has with their own best friends.

Stargazer's Delight, I agree. FF is an extremely addictive game, a guilty pleasure for Isabel to have, heh heh.

cardinalgirl, I'm so happy to see you here! I know what you mean about the AU thing, I hardly read it myself, but writing AU Stargazerness seems to be the only genre I can write a multi-chapter story and actually complete it, LOL. ::

Yes, everything's slightly tilted in this universe, but still, hopefully, in-character from all of your points-of-views. Anyway, onto with chapter three, which I don't think is very interesting, except for the end.



<center>Chapter Three</center>



Diane Evans had been up since four that morning, doing things here and there, helping her husband get ready for work and making breakfast before she herself had to head to the hospital. Looking at her watch, she promptly walked up stairs and entered Max and Michael’s room, opening the blinds to let the sunshine in and waking her eldest boys.

“Come on, rise and shine,” her voice chimed. She saw that Max was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, groggily throwing his legs over the bed and walked zombie-like out the door. Michael, on the other hand, still laid sprawled across his mattress, his feet hanging over the edge and his head beneath his pillow, attempting to block out the blinding light.

“You can’t make me go back,” he muffled grumpily from his hiding.

“I am your mother and you live in this house, so yes, I can make you go back,” she replied, amused. Every year it was a new battle to get Michael out of his bed.

Diane knew that Michael hated school with the utmost of passions, and had promised to drop out the day he turned sixteen, saying that it was a waste of his time. That didn’t go over well with her or Phillip, but after many arguments and time spent reprimanding her son of his future, Michael had relented and agreed to at least finish high school, as long as they didn’t force him to go to college. Though she wished he would reconsider, they had decided to save that disagreement for another day.

Michael grunted something from where he lay, and Diane rolled her eyes and placed both hands on the edge of the comforter he lay wrapped in. Using any muscle strength she possessed, she snatched the covers from around him, which in turn, caused him to roll out of it like silverware out of a napkin and fall off the bed.

“Up!” she said, exiting the room and leaving a bewildered Michael on the floor. He mumbled something incoherent and stood.

Having finally woken all her children, with the exception of Isabel, as she was all ready in Diane’s bathroom showering, Diane headed back downstairs to set the table. While she put plates and silverware out, her children trickled down the stairs, one by one, each eventually taking their designated seat at the kitchen table.

“So what’s for breakfast?” Max yawned.

“Blueberry pancakes,” Diane replied, placing two to three saucer-sized pancakes on each of her children’s plates, looking to each one of them and smiling. When she got to her youngest, she said, “Nicholas, your sports physical is after school today, so I’ll be there to pick you up.”

The boy nodded and begun to devour his breakfast; all the boys did, while their sister and mother just watched. Diane shook her head and went to the sick to wash dishes.

“Swine,” Isabel muttered, receiving glares from her brothers.

Max and Michael Evans were fraternal twins, the latter of the two being four minutes older than his dear twin. They had come into the world when Isabel was two, and though she loved them, all the testosterone in the house made her want to live in the backyard.

Maxwell, or Max as he was called, had black hair and amber eyes, and was the odd one out, at least in looks. He wasn’t quite as tall as his twin, who rose at a height over six feet, and unlike Isabel, was not involved in many activities. He didn’t play any sports nor did he participate in any clubs. He was quiet, and an overachiever. He loved history, and, with the exception of his English class, only read nonfiction books. On the weekends, he worked at the local UFO museum and volunteered at the library, where he all ready spent most of his free time during the week. Though, he could be found sometimes running the track after school or playing basketball in the driveway with his family.

Michael, unlike Max, had light brown hair and darker eyes, and hated school. In his free time and when he was supposed to be doing homework, he played video and PC games. He worked at a touristy diner called the Crashdown, and flipped burgers for a minimum wage salary. Something which their father was not too fond of, but if it earned him some extra cash, cash that Phillip didn’t have to give Michael to spend on things like games, so their father kept his mouth shut. One of the few things that he and Max did share was their love of history. It was one of the few classes Michael excelled in and enjoyed. His mother hoped that he would take that love of history and turn it into something more when he got older, but for now, was just happy he enjoyed something.

Nicholas, the youngest of the Evans, was, in Isabel’s opinion, a pain in the ass. He was a vindictive little snot-rag who raided her bedroom, went through hers and her brothers things, and was an annoying little brat, but was the apple of her parents’ eyes when they were home. He had brown hair, like their father once had, and brown eyes like his sister. It was rare for two blue-eyed parents to have brown-eyed children, but to have all of their children have darker eyes than they, was an oddity. All the siblings believed that Nicholas was an oddity though, with his cold, calculating stare and like of anything involving violence and bloodshed. He was that kid that fried ants with a magnifying glass.

Having had enough, most of the children pushed their plates forward and their chairs out, and grabbed their things as they realized that school started in a half hour. School was only a fifteen-minute ride from the house, but Isabel liked to get their at least fifteen minutes early.

“Come on,” Isabel said to Max and Michael, drinking down the last sip of her orange juice. As she stood from her seat and started to head for the door, Nicholas attempted to trip her as their mother’s back was turned, but failed in his attempts, as Isabel all ready knew that he hadn’t done his morning ritual of torturing her and had concluded he’d do it before she left. She received ‘the eye’ from her youngest brother when she smacked him hard upside his head before their mother could turn around.

“What was that noise?” her mother questioned. Isabel shrugged her shoulders and was out the door, Max and Michael in tow.



Alex stood by Liz Parker at her locker, making small talk and fiddling with his backpack straps.

He hadn’t slept well the night before, but he never ever did the night before school starts, which always left him looking fatigued and unprepared. He had also realized too late when taking a shower this morning that he had forgot to put on sun block when he went swimming with Isabel yesterday, and had looked in the bathroom mirror to find himself a boiled lobster. Though his mother had slathered on the Aloe Vera, he leaned against the blue school lockers to cool the heat emanating from his body. His backpack wasn’t helping in the least.

“So how was your last day of summer, Parker?” he asked.

“It was good. I had stayed the night at Maria’s on Saturday, and we spent the day at the mall yesterday, buying new school clothes and talking. A lazy day, if you will,” she answered, closing her locker shut. Alex winced. “Sunburn?”

“Yeah,” he drew out, touching the back of his neck.

She lifted his shirt sleeve and glanced at his shoulder, which was red as a tomato and peeling. “Gotta be more careful, Alex,” she said, concerned. “Don’t want you getting skin cancer, now do we?”

“Not really,” he grimaced, tugging his sleeve back down. “I really wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt, though. This thing is chafing me like crazy.” He took off his backpack and stared at it, saying “I’m dragging you today.”

Liz rolled her eyes and adjusted the binder and few notebooks in her arms. She didn’t bother bringing a backpack today, as she knew the first day would only bring syllabi and maybe a textbook or two, which was unlikely, as their bookstore would most likely need a couple days for any new books coming in and inventory.

“So what’s your schedule like?” she asked, opening her binder and viewing her own.

“This year, all AP classes, with an elective or two for good measure,” he took his schedule out of his back pocket and unfolded it. “Let’s see, we have HPA, tech support, European History, English, Calc BC, Baseball, and Econ/Government,” he read off.

“Sounds hectic,” Liz said, wondering briefly if her senior year would be nearly as busy as Alex’s. Just contemplating on her sophomore year was hell enough. “You and Isabel share any classes?”

“Yeah, a couple,” he nodded.

As he and Liz discussed their schedules and expectations for the year, Alex came to the conclusion that Liz was alright. He’d only known of little things about her from her parents and, of course, Isabel, but he founded that she was very easy to talk to, and quite mature for being fifteen years old. She was so determined to achieve her dreams, and that’s what he liked about her.

“Anyway, I have to meet Maria,” she said, bringing Alex out of his reverie. “So I’ll see you later?”

“When’s your lunch period? I have Lunch A.”

“Darn, I have Lunch B, but I suppose I may see you in the stands later waiting for practice to let up?” He nodded.

Alex, when allowed, would sometimes come in the last ten minutes of the girls’ volleyball practice and wait for Isabel. He had always thought the constant sounds of a ball hitting an open hand or being volleyed would bother him, but had been proven wrong when Isabel finally convinced him to go to a game, and oddly found it quite easy to concentrate. It was almost therapeutic; although, the sounds of cheering humans often times disrupted his thought process and tranquility.

Alex wasn’t surprised to find out that Liz and he had different lunches. The way the school had set it up was so that underclassmen, freshmen and sophomores, would have their lunch after fifth hour, while the upperclassmen, juniors and seniors, had their lunch after fourth. Every once in a while, though, due to schedule conflicts, which happened more often than the office tallied, Alex would find a few out-of-place classmen at lunch. As he watched Liz’s retreating form scuttle down the hallway, he turned around and saw, just in the nick of time, that Isabel was walking up toward him.



Sitting down at a desk in the middle of the room next to her friend Maria, Liz fidgeted with the bit of school supplies she brought and giggled with Maria when her friend commented that they’d most likely get some old fogy for English this year. While she chatted and glanced at the clock, she noticed that Max Evans had crossed her line of vision and couldn’t help but blush.

Liz had a slight crush on Max Evans, but would never admit to it. Every girl in her class seemed to have a crush on the mysterious loner who preferred to spend his free time at school in the library; more often than not helping the librarian put books back on their designated shelves.

During the beginning of the year, to escape the summer heat, Liz could be located in two places. The gym, practicing her serves and sets and talking to her teammates, or in the library, usually reading her science textbook, and out of those occasions, she had only ever spoken to the enigmatic boy once. They never seemed to share a class, as he always had his classes the opposite hour of hers. If she had Biology second hour, he’d have it fifth hour; if she had World History fourth hour, he’d have it second hour. Although it was only her sophomore year at West Roswell High, she was happy to find out that they finally shared an English class together.

“Whatcha thinking’ about?” Maria asked, hovering over Liz’s notebooks and staring in the direction that she was. “Ah, admiring the boy wonder over there, I see.” She smiled playfully and wriggled her eyebrows at her good friend, to which Liz furiously blushed.

“I’m not admiring him. I’m, uh, studying him. I’ve never have actually shared a class with Isabel’s brother. Our schedules have almost the same exact list of classes, yet they never seem to coincide.” Liz shrugged her shoulders and took out her dividers to write down whatever the teacher would ask to label them as.

“You’re such an A-type,” Maria observed. “You need to learn to be spontaneous,” she admonished, noticing Liz’s neat stack of color-coded subject dividers.

“Spontaneity is synonymous with being unprepared,” Liz sternly replied. She knew she was an ‘A-type’ as most students tended to call overachievers, like her. She had learned the first day of her freshmen year that high school had its own class system, which she had been very annoyed by at first, but now that she had a year under her belt, she had even begun to use it, much to her own chagrin. “Not that I’m saying you are, but the word ‘spontaneous’ will never be a word that people will use to describe me,” she added.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Maria nodded nonchalantly, watching the door and noting that the knob was turning. “Oh, here we go.”

“Here’s to a new year,” Liz whispered to her friend as their teacher, Mr. Carver, sat his briefcase down on his desk and began writing something on the white board, “and hopefully, new friends.” She glanced over her shoulder at the dark-haired young man that sat in the back of the class, taking his binder from his tatty backpack.

Maria stifled a laugh when her friend quickly maneuvered to face the board when Maxwell Evans gazed up; seeming to know that she had been staring. “You really need to work on your technique, Chica.”



The day went as most students had predicted. Teachers preaching studiousness and punctuality while passing out syllabi and a list of supplies needed for their respective classes as the students dozed off in the back of their classrooms, all ready bored of the new school year. The last hour of the day had finally arrived and Isabel, Alex, Tess, and Courtney filed into their AP Economics class, dreading what was to come.

“So I heard from Laurie,” Alex started, sitting down at the desk in the right corner of the classroom, “that we have a new Econ teach this year, and that he doesn’t take jack shit from his students.”

“Yeah, I heard that, too.” Courtney added, “I also heard that he used to be some hot shot architect or something, but due to stress and health problems that he had to take a breather.”

Tess then said, perplexed, “That’s not quite what got around to me. I heard that his mother or other was very ill and that he decided to take leave to care for her.”

“That’s sweet,” Isabel said offhandedly, tying her hair in a pony tail. “I heard that he’s hot.” Tess and Courtney concurred. Alex shuddered.

“Girls,” he mumbled to no one in particular, but saw that Courtney and Tess had rounded on him with looks of ‘Don’t start with us.’ “He’s a teacher, for crying out loud. Who cares if he’s hot or not? We’re still going to get homework and have to take tests.”

“Yeah, but the class is more bearable if there’s eye candy,” Courtney swiftly supplied, Isabel nodding along with her.

Alex rolled his eyes and surrendered to the three females surrounding him. It was a lost battle. “Why would an architect be teaching Economics?” Before he could get an answer, though, the teacher had walked in and ended their discussion, to which Alex was somewhat grateful.

He noticed that their teacher was young, and by that he meant that the guy looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, was handsome as hell, (as all the girls in the class could not keep their eyes from tailing the guy), and was rugged-looking. Alex couldn’t help but to think nasty thoughts of his Economics teacher while the guy passed out the class syllabus. Though, his thoughts went blank when the guy addressed him.

“Mr. Whitman, I presume?”

Surprised, Alex responded with a ‘yeah.’ “How’d you guess?”

“I’ve seen your picture in the living section of the newspaper, and have heard very good things about you from all your teachers, as well as your coach, heard that you’re one hell of a pitcher.”

“I suppose,” Alex modestly answered.

“Oh, come on, Whitman! Be smug for once,” a classmate said in response, to which others had begun adding their own praises of Alex’s abilities.

Alex flushed deeply. It wasn’t the first time that a teacher had commented on his skills, but he couldn’t help but to feel self-conscious under everyone’s eyes as they stared at him to answer more honestly.

“Okay, yeah,” he said quickly, feeling a gentle rubbing into his shoulder, which he had winced at first, but the pressure had let up. The hand had most likely been Isabel’s, a gesture that he appreciated very much from her. “Why?”

“I’m just a huge fan of Baseball, no matter what medium. Just wanted you to know that I’ll definitely be looking forward to when the season starts in the spring, so to see you play.” The guy finished passing out the syllabus, and sat on the stool behind the podium at the front of the class.

“Anyway, I guess I should introduce myself. The name’s Grant Sorenson, or Mr. Sorenson to all of you, and I am your new Econ/Government teacher for this year.”

Thanks for the feedback: Stargazer's Delight, KarenEvans, Sternbetrachter, and cardinalgirl. Of course, thanks also to anyone who's reading and lurking. It's appreciated!

KarenEvans, yes, Max and Michael are basically opposites, though they do share a couple traits, few and far between as they are. Also, thanks for the bump.

cardinalgirl, Nicholas as the fourth Evans child is very interesting, and when we see his brief appearances, it'll be even more interesting to see how he blends into the Evans family routine.

Sternbetrachter, thanks for the bump.

Anyway, this is part of chapter four. The second half should hopefully be posted on Thursday, but I'm not making any promises. This part features Alex, Kyle, Tess, with mentions of others.

Oh, and I added the story banner to the first post. Check it out.



<center>Chapter Four, First Half</center>



The weeks quickly ran by and soon the students were well into September. Everyone was busy with sports, academia, and clubs, and the seniors had early graduation preparation added to their lists. Though at least a quarter of the senior class took honors’ courses, their homework load was not nearly as tedious as it had been in the past.

Alex was always one to go straight home, eat, and finish his homework early. In his mind, only long term projects and difficult assignments deserved procrastination. Since he didn’t have either, he had driven back to school and was now sitting in the gym, watching the girls volley the ball over the net, warming up for their match against East Roswell High.

Glancing to the entrance of the building, he smiled at the bulk of students that had arrived to watch the game. Before he returned his gaze to the court, Alex waved over Kyle and Tess, who had just arrived.

“Hey,” Alex said, scooting to the edge of the bleacher to make room for them, “So Kyle, ready for us to whoop your toosh?”

“Right, Whitman, but sorry I’ve seen these girls in action, and, surely, it’s going to be one hardcore match.” Kyle wrapped his arm around Tess’s waist and she laid her head onto his shoulder, relaxing into him.

“Hello, Alex,” Tess said. “Long time, no see,” she joked.

“Yeah, really,” he chuckled. “Did you finish your Econ assignment? There’s one word that I couldn’t find its definition, neither in the chapter text nor the glossary.”

Tess pursed her lips then responded, “I started it in class, but that’s about it. I haven’t touched it since school let out.”

“Seriously, Whitman, you have got to be the only guy I know who finishes their homework before six o’clock,” Kyle quirked an eyebrow upward then shook his head. “Pathetic.”

“Shut up. Was I talking to you?” he said, looking up to the court when he heard the coach’s yell for the girl’s to head in and let the other team warm up. “I don’t work, and the only extracurricular I have is tae kwon do, and that’s not school-related. So getting it done is easy, especially since the load’s been light, thus far.”

“I’m glad for that,” Tess piped up, waving at a girl who jogged past. “Since early admissions starts in July, what’s the point in having to do so much?”

“Exactly,” Alex nodded. He paused to glance at the girls rummaging through their bags, drinking water, and doing last minute stuff for the oncoming match, then proceeded, “Where’d you apply to?”

“Well, I applied to some of the universities here, ASU, and, my highest aim, Tulane, but I seriously doubt I’ll actually get in; hence the reason for the safety schools.”

“See, I nabbed a smart one,” Kyle said proudly, kissing Tess’s forehead, which she in turn smacked him playfully on the chest.

“You’re not as much of an idiot as I’d thought you’d be,” she said, keeping her gaze to the court as the timer on the scoreboard went off and the girls began to scurry onto the court.

“Hey!” Kyle responded in indignation. Alex just laughed.

“Anyway,” Alex rolled his eyes. “What about you Kyle? Have you applied anywhere yet?”

“Yes, he has,” Tess smiled, looking pointedly at her boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Kyle paused, taking a moment to watch the girls play. “Damn! Come on, Eileen!” he yelled to a girl of medium build and blonde hair. “Anyway, I applied to some of the in-state universities, but that’s about it.”

“What about Notre Dame? What happened to scouts and scholarships?”

“They’re there, but they are all looking at players like Dave and Wayne. I’m a short shit compared to them.” Kyle sighed, running his free hand through his hair.

“Unfortunately, they’re dumbasses,” Tess interjected, punching Kyle in the thigh.

“Ouch! You’re so violent!”

“Whatever. Kyle, you at least have a decent GPA compared to those dicks. Scouts don’t just look at players who would easily make the cut; they also have to look at players who could make it through the academic standards.” Tess huffed, irritated. “You can make it into Notre Dame.”

“Tess is right, man. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Alex shrugged his shoulders then turned his attention to the game, where East Roswell had just scored.

“Yeah!” Kyle cheered.

Alex shook his head and saw that Isabel was staring at him, smiling as drops of sweat descended her face. He waved to her, flashing her a toothy grin and an encouraging thumbs up to show his support. She nodded her head and went into a crouched stance, a new determination on her lovely features.

The game became more aggressive as things progressed, and the whole audience was enthralled by the girls’ abilities. Both teams had very impressive players, some who could spike the ball hard into the floor and others who could serve with amazing accuracy. Now in their third and final game, the girls were exhausted, but continued to play with as much fire as they began.

“God, Isabel looks like she could use a pick-me-up,” Kyle observed, noticing Isabel’s flyaway strands, sweat-drenched face, and jittery stance.

“I think they all look like they could use one,” Alex supplied, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Go Courtney!” Tess screamed when the tall girl served the ball over the net. Courtney gave Tess a quick smile as she shortly jogged to her position.

“This is so hard to watch,” Kyle put his hands up over his face and peeked through his fingers. “This seriously sucks when you’ve attended both schools.”

Alex nodded, remembering when the district had redrawn the boundary lines and Kyle had been given the choice to go to East or West, and had chosen to go to East Roswell, so to save his dad the burden of paying a district fee. Plus the fact that an old coach Kyle’s dad had admired during his years was now the football coach at the newer school had also had an influence in his decision.

“It must,” Alex agreed, wincing when East Roswell made game point. “Crap.”

“Isabel almost got that one, too,” Kyle said, glancing at Tess who was intensely captivated by the match.

“Yeah, she did,” Tess trailed.

“But she’s tired,” Alex finished for her, and then admitted, “She should’ve been switched out halfway through this game.” Clapping his hands, he cheered, “Come on, team, you can do it! Eyes on the prize!”

Tess, Kyle, and Alex watched as East Roswell served the ball, which Liz handled beautifully to her teammates and got it over the net. One of the taller girls on the other side spiked the ball with such a force you could hear the sound echoing off the gym walls. Isabel jutted her arms forward and dove for it, crashing hard onto the floor. Though, it had seemed more to Alex that Isabel was not fully aware of what she was doing.

Unfortunately, Isabel did not keep her hands in their locked position and the ball hit the floor before her team could even realize what was happening. The girls from East Roswell had begun to celebrate, but Alex had noticed that Isabel had not got up from where she laid on the linoleum.

“Oh, God,” Tess whispered, standing up and letting her left hand cover her lips.

Before anyone deemed it necessary to call an ambulance, though, Isabel came to, and Alex found that he could breathe again.

I apologize for not getting this up yesterday, but I was so exhausted after work that I conked out for 13 hours, . Then I was going to post this morning, only to find that my dad decided to tinker with the stove light and had turned off the electricity. So here I am now, posting the second half to chapter four.

Anyway, thank you for the feedback: KarenEvans, Sternbetrachter, and Stargazer's Delight. Of course, thank you to those reading and lurking. As always, it's appreciated.

Also, to take this opportunity to pimp myself and for those of you interested, I have begun reposting the revised version to Eyes of a Stranger. A heavily saturated and plotted Stargazer fiction that I started writing ages ago, but had to leave as 'dead and buried' due to RL.

Check it out, here!

Anyway, enough self-promoting. On to the rest of chapter four.



<center>Chapter Four, Second Half</center>



The next day, Alex ran up to the Evans jeep in the school lot just after he parked his ‘rabbit’. He gave a quick wave to Isabel’s brothers as they walked tiredly toward the school while Isabel searched through her book bag for something.

“Hey,” Alex smiled, pretending that he didn’t have a question burning at the back of his conscious.

“Hey,” she replied, fatigued. Her eyes had dark crevices under them, like she hadn’t slept a wink the night before. She put a pen in her mouth that she had found at the bottom of her back pack. “Where is it?”

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asked, opening her door to the large, black jeep.

“My homework,” she answered shortly. “I did it last night after the game, and I swear to God that I put it in my binder, but it’s not there.”

Alex nodded, not quite sure what to say, but then wondered, “After the game? Did you not pass out after your guys’ loss, or were you just so frustrated beyond belief that you felt the need to scare me half to death?” She had given him the opportunity to ask, so he figured he’d take it.

Isabel gradually stopped her rummaging and quietly faced Alex, her eyes seeming darker than he had first imagined. “Not exactly,” she responded, having taken the pen from out of her mouth. “I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. I was just . . . frustrated, and angry, and beyond pissed,” she told with a slight staccato to her voice. “I should’ve called you last night, but I had so much to do, and it was late,” she trailed off.

“Bullshit,” he bluntly pointed. “Isabel, that wasn’t frustration. You may have fooled your parents, but – here I am – your best friend. I know full well that you passed out, because, frankly, you were exhausted by game three on that court.” Isabel cast her head down, taking a few moments to flip through the pages of her history book. “What’s the big deal, Iz?”

“My parents can’t know, and you won’t tell them.”

“Now you’re being melodramatic.” He came around to the other side of the vehicle and sat in the passenger seat. “Is it like last year? You know, when you were out sick with Mono for, like, a month?”

“No, it’s not Mono. At least, I hope to God it’s not, because there’s no way I can miss another month of school. Having to lie in bed, do homework, and then all the makeup work that can’t be done at home? God, I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, a single tear sliding down her face.

Isabel slammed her book shut with a frustrated sigh and jammed it back into her backpack. Alex took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze, to which she brought her body and arms around to wrap him in a hug.

For a moment, Alex couldn’t breathe as the scent of her shampoo invaded his nasal orifices, along with the feeling of her soft hair brushing against his cheek. He would’ve closed his eyes and cherished this moment like any guy with a crush on their gorgeous best friend, but his concern overrode any other feeling coursing through him. He had inkling as to what was ailing Isabel, but even the suggestion would have her swatting his arm and saying not to worry. She was too proud to ever give in and confess.

She pulled away, but kept her hands on his shoulders and bit her lip in amusement at his worried eyes. “Alex, really, it’s probably nothing. Now, please,” she grinned, “stop looking as if I’m at death’s doorstep. I’ll be fine.”

Alex nodded, but proceeded to let his preoccupation simmer at the back of his mind. “Okay, but promise me this?”

“What?” she questioned as they both got out of the car, having heard the first warning bell.

“Get some sleep tonight. You look, uh, bad.”

Isabel rolled her eyes and let him place an arm around her shoulder, giving her a friendly shake as they walked to their first class.



Later that day, Maria DeLuca ran to her third hour class, cursing her teacher for keeping her later to speak with her about her grade, as they were halfway through the first quarter, and her mark in math was not exactly up to par. Though, she really didn’t care, as she had always been horrible at math, and a lot of times would ask Liz for help with the God-forsaken subject. After the usual lecture from her instructor, he didn’t even bother to make her a late pass and had said that she had sufficient time to get to her third hour, but, unfortunately, most teachers did not take into consideration that a person ran into friends in the corridors.

Reaching her next class as the late bell rang, she threw open the door and quickly apologized to the teacher for being late as she walked down the ramp of the giant art room. She adored the instructor of this class, as she wasn’t as judgmental as some of her other ones, and the woman had an oddness to her that reminded Maria of her mother, but only enough so that they were still two completely different people.

Seating herself at one of the tables, she greeted her classmates to receive hellos from around the table except from one person, who she never remembered having sat at her table.

“Why are you sitting here?” she asked rudely, her eyes squinted in muted anger.

“Forced to,” was his answer. She watched as he moved his chair back and set his black-booted feet on his corner of the table. “What’s it to you, Blondie?”

“One, the name’s Maria,” she articulated,” get it right, and two, the spiked hairstyle? So late 90’s,” she took her long hair and put it up in a ponytail.

“Whatever.” He took his notepad from his backpack and dropped it onto the table.

“You didn’t answer my initial question. Why are you sitting here?”

“Togetherness,” he said bitterly, taking his pencil and pointing it toward their strangely dressed teacher, “and group work.”

Maria blinked in disbelief, “Group work? As in project that involves more than one person?”

“You’re a smart one.”

The girl between them cleared her throat and said, “Yeah. We have three weeks to make, like, a mosaic that represents the school. You know, like, spirit, and academics, and all that jazz.”

“Like, yeah,” Michael said in response, receiving a glare from the girl.

“Ugh! Get over yourself, Guerin. That angry, sulky teenage boy routine is so not cool.”

“That’s the point,” he tipped his head back, glancing pointed at the blonde chatter box. “From what I remember, headbands went out in the 80’s,” he added, referring to Maria’s brightly colored hair piece, and turned back around toward where the teacher wrote out the instructions for the day.

Maria fumed, not bothering to speak to him for the rest of the class.

Yeah, I'm still here, don't worry. A new part is in the works, and I plan on updating in the next week. Thanks for waiting so patiently. It's greatly appreciated.