Scene 1:

There was no practice today since the soccer season was over and the team had some vacation time, but Adam was still incredibly stressed. He had no idea why he had been crazy enough to think he'd be able to handle playing in the MLS and going to school full time. He'd have to scale down classes, because it wasn't as though he could scale down his time on the field. Only adding to his stress was the fact that instead of reading about political parties, Adam was spending his free time working on his soccer skills. He felt like if he was going to play his best and contribute to the team, he needed to work more on his individual skills. Today's skill was penalty kicking. He set down his ball on the line and took a running start at it. He kicked the ball and cringed immediately, knowing that he didn't get all he could out of the kick. The ball his the goal post and bounced into the nearly empty bleachers.

Darcy could not stop thinking about Damien dating Carla. Cat and she had assumed it was to spite her, but today in the hall, they had been lovey-dovey to the point where Darcy wanted to retch. Was Damien just that good of a player? And if he was why would she even care? Darcy jogged the short distance from her house to Hope University, the thoughts of Damien and how she felt about him tormenting her. She planned to do a bleacher mile, but she noticed a guy in a Olympic jersey. She paused to catch the name across the back - Hatcher. Could that be the real Adam Hatcher or simply a fan? She knew he played with United and attended Hope. Darcy shrugged. She loved sports and avidly followed them, but she was never one to be awe-struck by athletes. Darcy continued her jog, but the sound of a whirling soccer ball caused her to instinctively duck, it bounced into the bleachers a couple feet away. Darcy picked it up and walked down the bleachers to hand it to the player. "Here," she said, holding out, the guy approaching her, but a shadow obscuring his face.

"Uh, thanks," Adam said, his face slightly flushed. "I didn't think anyone was around. I would have made sure not to suck so much if I'd seen you."

Darcy smiled and shrugged. "We all have our days." She was certainly having one today. "Are you Adam Hatcher?" Darcy asked in her straight-forward fashion. There was no gushing, it was simply a question.

Adam looked at the girl, surprised that she knew who he was. "Yeah, do I know you?" he asked her. He studied her face, trying to figure out if he had met her before, or if he could have even seen her before, but he came up with nothing.

"Oh no," Darcy replied, "Just a sports fan and especially a soccer fan, I remember you from the Olympics. You were pretty awesome, I mean you're no Mia Hamm, but what can you do?" Darcy teased.

Adam laughed at her comment and shrugged. "We can't all marry Nomar Garciaparra." Adam was surprised that anyone would recognize him, especially since he didn't play for the national team in Athens, only in Sydney. He was in Greece for the games, but had to sit in the sidelines thanks to an injury.

"So how's the...I don't know what was injured," Darcy said. She just knew that he had not played in Athens because of an injury, which disappointed her because she rather liked his style.

Adam instinctively rubbed his knee and said, "It's getting there. I don't need surgery and it's almost better. I should be back in the lineup next season," he answered. "Do you play?"

"Used to, but now I just play lacrosse at school," Darcy explained. She actually had been on the junior girls world soccer team. "I just goof off now."

"Impressive," he nodded. "Why did you quit?"

"When I got into high school, I did not have the time to devote to both, so I chose lacrosse," Darcy explained.

"Do you miss it?" Adam knew that he missed soccer when he was forced to skate and he couldn't imagine having to give up his sport.

Darcy shrugged, "sometimes, but I like lacrosse just as much, and its worked out, I've got several good teams and people looking at me, so I can't complain."

"That's great," he said. "Good luck." He wasn't really sure what else to say, since Adam Hatcher and social skill were mutually exclusive.

"Um...well, since you're having a bad day, and it won't make me look as bad...mind if I kick it around with you for a bit?" Darcy asked. Kicking the soccer ball around with an Olympic soccer player rated up there with some of the coolest things ever for Darcy.

Adam thought over her request for a moment. Did she really want to kick it around, or was she just trying to be nice? Then again, why would she bother being nice? "Yeah, sure," he answered, tossing the ball back to her and running across the field.

Darcy caught it and trotted across the field from Adam. She swiftly dropped it and kicked it towards Adam to get the ball going, while keeping in mind her hostility towards Damien and the bitch Carla. Maybe if she got mad enough she might score a goal or two.

I've worked out enough, Adam thought, so I might as well let her think she can win. "Let's see what you've got," he yelled to her.

Sounded a little cocky, didn't he? Darcy thought. She was not here to impress him, she was here to play and not to lose. Adam stopped the ball and began to move towards her. He was much faster and smoother than her at moving the ball between and around his feet. Darcy moved towards him ready to take the ball, but he effectively...and far too easily...moved the ball around her. She caught the grin on his face. Darcy practically growled and she came up from behind, knocked her shoulder into his body and threw him off balance, and took the ball.

"Well, I was just going to let you win, but now," he yelled to her as he ran to catch up to her.

He was just going to let her win? She could have stopped right there and turned around and kicked his cocky ass, but Darcy kept moving towards her target, but she lacked the handling skills of Adam and was unable to move as quickly. He went for the ball and Darcy swiped it behind her, turned around, moved with the ball to the side, but Adam quickly caught up with her, and they both aggressively fought over the ball, sometimes briefly colliding with one another. Finally, Adam got the upper hand and Darcy ended up flying over his leg and hitting the ground.

Adam kicked the ball and watched it sail into the goal before he heard a thud behind him and saw the girl laying on her back. He jogged back to her and held out a hand. "You okay?"

Darcy nodded. No, she had had the wind knocked out of her and more importantly her pride. She climbed to her feet, brushed herself off, all without Adam's assistance. "Well, point for you," she said, but she offered him a smile. Man, this guy was like an Abercrombie model, not a soccer player.


He nodded and doubled back to retrieve the ball. "You wanna keep going?" he asked her.

"You bet," Darcy said and jogged down to middle field, ready for Adam to go.

He knew that she wouldn't be able to beat him, but he still wanted to compete. Adam dribbled the ball down the field and knew that the girl couldn't catch up with him, so he slowed down for her to reach him. When she tried to kick the ball, he maneuvered around her and kicked it towards the goal again, this time missing.

"I know you can do that faster and better, Hatcher," Darcy called over her shoulder as she trotted down field to retrieve the ball from out of bounds.

He nodded. "Yeah, I can. But you can't."

She shrugged, "doesn't mean you should go easy on me." She walked back towards him, ball in hand, "if we were playing lacrosse, I sure as hell wouldn't go easy on you, would you want me to?" Darcy appreciated his honesty and courtesy though, it was certainly a welcome change in a male.

"You sure about that?" he asked, squinting at her as the sun shone in his eyes. When the girl nodded, Adam shrugged. "Fine, then," and he took off down the field.

He moved like a soccer saint, Darcy thought, and she was briefly memorized by the sheer gracefulness of his moment, like that of a dancer except dancing with a soccer ball. But she quickly awakened from her reverie and this time tore towards him at an incredible speed. Had she mentioned she had been a state champion in track, too? She knocked the ball out of his control and both tore across the field at the same time to get to it first. Darcy actually had a leg up on him, but by the time they caught up to the ball, Adam was equal with her, both went for the ball, collided hard, and hit the ground.

Adam went down hard and was winded for a moment. The girl fell on top of him, and before acting, he just watched the ball roll towards the goal, and stop right before going in. "Nice try," he told her, but grinned, because she still hadn't put one past him.

Darcy wondered if blowing towards it would help? Who thought sweat could smell this good, but apparently if you looked the way Adam did it could. She rolled her eyes, sprung off him, and ran towards the ball, by the time Adam got even close, she hit it in. "Call it what you will, but we're tied," Darcy said, she picked up the ball, and tossed it at him.

"You don't play fair, do you?" he asked. He threw the ball up in the air and they both ran for it.

"I play to win," was Darcy's answer. Darcy reached the ball before him, she leaped; it hit her in the chest and she rolled it down her body to her feet, like it was nothing. Luckily, unlike Catherine, she was not quite so blessed in the chest area.

Adam watched her for a moment before he lunged at her and the ball. He stole it from her and kicked it hard, watching it soar to the goal. "So do I."

Darcy ground her teeth and smirked at him. She loosened the ponytail from her hair and a cascade of chocolate colored curls fell from her crown down slightly past her waist, thick and wavy like a mermaids. She quickly swept it back up into a ponytail. "Play till five, how's that sound?" Darcy asked, turning away and moving back towards middle field.

"That's fine. We'll even say that the score's two to one. Even though you know it isn't. Let's go."

Darcy rolled her eyes and followed him to middle field. She tossed the ball in the air and managed to steal it for herself this time and she moved across the field, her quickness and control over the ball already having drastically improved. This was why they had always said she was a natural at sports.

If she was going to play dirty, Adam wasn't going to hold back. He was right with her as she dribble the ball towards the net. He jumped in front of her and dove to the ground when he saw she was about to shoot. He was able to deflect the ball out of bounds and prevented her from scoring.

Darcy cried out in surprise as Adam dove at her feet, he prevented her from scoring, but not from kicking him in the chin. "Holy shit," Darcy shouted as Adam rolled over in pain. She dropped down on the ground next to him. "Are you alright?" she asked, her hand reaching out to where she had kicked him.

"I think you just gave me a concussion," he groaned. He opened his mouth and tried to move around his jaw, but when he was sure he was fine, he hopped back up.

Darcy had expected blood to spurt from his mouth, but when he was fine, she shrugged. Again they met in middle field and after a good struggle, Adam scored another point, looking every bit as smug as possible. "Three to one," Darcy said with a roll of her eyes at their fourth meeting in middle field. As Adam tossed the ball, Darcy focused on the ball, and repeated, 'the ball is Damien's head...the ball is Damien's head...the ball is Damien and Carla's head.' Darcy plowed over Adam, successfully knocked him to the ground, and tore across field at breakneck speed, still chanting her little chant.

"You're too small to knock me down," he called after her before running full speed ahead. He caught up to her, but not before she scored another point. "Don't get too confident."

"I'm just trying to keep up with your cockiness," Darcy responded and blew him a kiss just to be cocky. Apparently, this Damien technique was working. "Three to two."

"It's not cockiness, it's just honesty," he told her. After she threw the ball up in the air, he plowed towards it and she was never able to catch up to him. "Four to two."

She about wanted to kill him for his last comment, but she wasn't going down without a fight. The sixth time around, he was close to completing his game point, and Darcy threw herself into him and successfully blocked the ball right as he went for the point. Again, she hit the ground hard, landing on her back, and Adam tangled in her legs landed on top. Darcy looked up at him, "I don't think I have ever been on the ground this much in a game.

Adam rolled off of her and pushed himself up. He held out his hand to help her up, but the girl ignored him. He shrugged and ran to the ball, kicking it to the net. "Game over."

Darcy wanted to say that it didn't count, but she knew that would have been hypocritical. Darcy got up, she got knocked around less in lacrosse, but that was mainly because everyone was scared of her and she knocked them around. "Yeah, game," Darcy said, it wouldn't suck that much if she had at least managed three goals.

"You play hard," he told her.

"Only way to play," Darcy responded.



Scene 2

Here she was again, at another alcoholic harmonic party, at another rich, popular kid's house, (in fact the kid went to Vanguard, so the CGMHS crowd was small), but Gumshoe's heavy, edgy beat pounded against the walls, beat on the floor, and flooded upwards into Macy's willowy frame. She swayed and rocked with the beat, singing the words aloud, unheard through all the noise. Sadie was taking pictures, Corey was hitting on prep boys, Emily was being the social butterfly and Macy was just enjoying the music. In her own, secluded world, she could have been alone or in a massive crowd, all she felt was the music moving her body. She was not Macy McCormick, the weird twin, tonight, no; she was Macy McCormick, the enigma, controlled by the musical styling of Gumshoe.

Dylan and a few of his friends from the football team were at the Vanguard party, with everyone who mattered from the private school. The music was good and the alcohol was cold. What could be better? Dylan immediately spotted a hot blonde with a short skirt. "I've got that one," he told his boys and with that, he was off. Using his most smooth line, Dylan approached her and handed her a beer. "Wanna dance?" she nodded and they worked their way in the middle of the crowd of moving bodies.

Macy felt her body jostled, but she barely noticed. Just the music and Dylan...DYLAN! Macy immediately turned her back to him, hoping he hadn't noticed her. Since she was Macy McCormick the enigma tonight, she was dressed in a strapless hot pink top with dark denim jeans, and she certainly did not look like the Macy McCormick that Dylan knew. If he saw her, she would never hear the end of it, he would be grossly satisfied. Macy casually tried to move away from Dylan and the blonde he was dancing with, attempting to use her hair as a shield for her face. Casual, just move a little closer to the stage, away from Dylan...

"Who are you looking at?" the blonde Dylan was dancing with asked when she saw his attention shift.

"I think that girl over there is my history partner," he answered, surprised to see Macy looking, well, hot.

"You think? Shouldn't you recognize her if you work with her in class?" the blonde asked.

Dylan shrugged. "She usually doesn't look like that."

"Let's say hi," the girl said.

"No, no. We're not friends. I don't need to talk to her."

"I want to meet your friend, Dylan," the girl whined and pulled him towards Macy. What was wrong with her? They were dancing, not getting married. Why should she care about Macy? After moving through the maze of bodies, the girl tapped Macy on the shoulder. "Hi, I'm Joanna. Dylan said he knew you." The whole time, Dylan stared at his feet.

Macy released an airy, "hi, yeah, um...we're just history partners," that all came out in one rushed breath. She shifted uncomfortably and pushed her near waist length brown locks from her face, but she refused to look at Dylan. Here she was in make-up and a hot outfit, trying to be someone else for one night, with no worries, and she had to bump into Dylan.

"Who do you know here?" he asked, though not looking at her. He put an arm around Joanna's waist.

"The band," Macy replied coldly, knowing exactly what he meant by that tone.

"Do you really know them, or are you just being you?" he asked, after rolling his eyes. He was still upset with the comment that Macy made about his family, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had gotten to him.

"I know the bass guitarist, we're in the youth symphony together," Macy responded, trying to remain cool. "Since you know me so well and all..."

Joanna was confused, and her eyes shifted back and forth during the exchange of words. "Did you two date?" she asked Dylan.

He made a face of disgust before answering shortly, "No."

Macy mimicked Dylan's face and in unison, said, "No." She briefly made eye contact with Dylan, but quickly looked away. First she was accused of liking Chris, now she was being accused of once dating Dylan, when had she entered the twilight zone?

"Let's get out of here. I don't want to deal with this now," Dylan said to Joanna while he glared at Macy. He pulled the blonde away and disappeared back into the crowd.

"Are you sure you never dated?" Joanna continued to ask.

"She's weird and she's a bitch. That's just sick," Dylan spat out, but he kept thinking back to what she had said before. How could Macy McCormick have ruined Dylan's night already?

"Okay, listen, Dylan. I think you're cute, and I want to hang out with you, but you're stuck on her. Call me if you ever get over her," Joanna said and walked away.

Dylan tried to call her back, but she didn't hear him. Over Macy? When had he ever been under Macy? That was an image he didn't want. Dylan felt stupid standing in the middle of a dance floor, alone, not moving, with a beer in his hand, so he leaned against the wall and stared out into the mess of bodies from the periphery.

There went her night. It was bad enough having to sit through history this week with Dylan slumped in his seat, his anger toward her radiating off of him. What was worse was that she felt consumed with guilt. Macy pushed her way through the people, searching in all directions for Dylan, if she didn't apologize now she never would, and then she would be stuck with a failing world history grade, and have to take it next year. Surprisingly though Dylan was by himself, leaning against the wall with a beer in one hand, he looked as though be belonged in some sort of beer ad. He spotted her, rolled his eyes, and started to move away, but she hurried after him. Macy grabbed his hand to stop him and at that moment, Matt Zurowski, a CGMHS varsity football player walked by, he gave Dylan a nod of acknowledgement, and gave Macy a lingering once over. He did not realize it was Macy McCormick he had been checking out. Macy and Dylan were both frozen, shocked by the fleeting moment.

Keep walking, keep walking, Dylan thought to himself, and when Matt did, Dylan breathed out a sigh of relief. He then turned to her and gruffly said, "What?"

She nearly snapped back, but controlled herself. "I wanted to apologize for the other day," she replied sincerely, but with restraint.

"For what?" he asked, pretending that he wasn't upset, but to no avail. Just her bringing it up annoyed him.

"Oh, give it a rest, Dylan," Macy moaned. "I'm going out on a limb here!"

He took a swig of his beer and then looked down at his feet. "Whatever, it's over, I guess."

"Well, not exactly, we're still stuck together on that project," Macy replied, but her tone was softer this time, and she felt even worse for what she said. "Look, I'm really, really sorry Dylan, just stop sending me those 'I hate you, bitch' vibes from across the room.'"

He chuckled lightly at her comment and nodded. "I can do that. It's just..." he hesitated. "I don't know."
Macy felt a relieved smile break across her face when he laughed a little, but her _expression quickly changed.

"What? What do you mean you don't know? We were arguing and you were trying to get to me, so I just tried to get to you...and went below the belt," Macy rambled, wondering what she was doing as she rambled.

"It wouldn't have been below the belt if it weren't true," he shrugged, still staring at his feet instead of at her. Why was he telling Macy this? Because she already knew.

Macy's eyes fell to her feet as well, "I'm sorry Dylan." It wasn't an apology for what she said though; it was an apology for the fact that he didn't have his parents around to support him. She might not have had two parents, and she might have had to share the attention of one parent with five others, but support she had never lacked. Her mother was always there for her.

"Whatever, it isn't that big a deal. I get by," he said in an attempt to sound tough, which he capped off by chugging the rest of his beer bottle and tossing it in a nearby trashcan.

Macy raised an eyebrow at Dylan's masculine action. Well, he did have good aim. It was absurd and she felt herself chuckling a little, but when Dylan sent her a look, she quickly sobered up. "Um, so truce right?" Macy asked, still not comfortable with making eye contact. "Cuz, I’ll be damned if I am taking that class over again..." And I'll be damned if I ever feel so horrible for someone hating me ever again, especially Dylan Guthrie, Macy mentally tacked on.

Dylan cracked a slight smile and said, "Truce. I still think you should dress like a flapper."

"I'm not dressing like a flapper, unless you show up in a suit and a mobster hat," Macy laughed. She realized they were laughing and smiling at each other, and she honestly didn't recall a time they had ever done that.

He stopped laughing for a second and looked her straight in the eyes. "Fine," he said seriously. "You're on."

Macy sobered up at Dylan. He stared at her challengingly with his bright blue eyes. "Are you for real?" Macy laughed, not believing he would do it. "Whatever, you won't do it."

"Oh, I'll do it. I never back down when I say I'll do something." Besides, he just had to wear a hat and slick his hair back underneath it. It was Macy that had to wear fringes and shake in front of the whole class.

"But yet you were so adamant about not doing it earlier, but whatever," Macy laughed. "I'll believe it when I see it."


Scene 3

Jason wanted to beat the crap out of his best friend. What was Chris thinking ditching Emily like this? He offered her a pained smile over their glasses of cider. This study date had been Chris' idea, and here Jason was stuck making excuses for Chris' absence. Not that he minded being alone with Emily. He did not at all. It was just that he hated seeing the expectant look on her face, hoping that Chris would walk in the door of Jason's kitchen at any minute. He glanced at the clock and shrugged.

"You know Chris," he said. "He'd be late for his own funeral."

Emily looked to the door once again and turned back to Jason with a shrug and a tight smile. "Well, something could have come up, but lets go ahead and get started." Emily fished her Chemistry book out of her backpack. She excelled at math and science, and Chris often relied on her to help him pass, Jason though was far less dependent on her academic skills. "I'll just give him my notes, and knowing him he'll just copy my homework." She rolled her eyes, but it was not in a harsh or critical way, simply a sign of resignation that Chris did not excel as a student.

"You give him way too much credit," Jason remarked. He pulled his book out from his backpack and cracked it open. "He's my best friend, but I'm annoyed for you."

Emily drew back, surprise by Jason's response. "What do you mean? He's going through a tough time right now, Jason."

"Tough? He's on Varsity, his family is rich and he has you for his girlfriend. How is that tough?" Jason asked sharply. As close as he and Chris were, this was just too much to take. "And speaking of you, why do you let him walk all over you?"

Emily's mouth fell open in surprise at Jason's unexpected venom. "I'm just trying to help him, his parents are going through a divorce...," Emily stammered, shocked by Jason's outburst, but completely missing the previous comment about her.

Jason frowned and hunched over his book, falling silent for a moment. She did not answer the question he really wanted the answer to. Chris was leading her on, and it bugged Jason to no end. He could be such a jerk and yet she excused his behavior.

"Look," he said after a moment. "It's just that...well, Chris is a good guy and I know his parents’ divorcing is hitting him hard. He won't talk to me about it. Maybe you could help him."

"He won't talk to me either," Emily said with a sigh. She absently sketched a picture of Jason on her notebook paper as she watched him. What Emily did not add was that Chris rarely spoke to her at all now unless absolutely necessary.

"Maybe something more is wrong with him then," Jason mused aloud. "I know that crap with Dylan is still pissing him off. Do you think he found out for sure that his Dad paid the coach to let him on the team?"

Emily shrugged, "Macy said she thinks he truly thinks his dad did pay off the coach."

Jason was tired of thinking and talking about Chris. Even though they were friends, he did not want Chris' problems to seep into his own life. "Hey, did I tell you my sister said I could get a car? Of course, I have to get a job first. But it's a step in the right direction since last week she absolutely forbid me from getting a car."

"Oh, that's cool!" Emily responded enthusiastically. "I wish I could get a car." They could not afford another car and while Emily could get a job, she had little time between classes, cheerleading, and volleyball. Her cell phone buzzed by her hip and Emily saw Chris' name pop up. She answered with a smile, hoping Chris would say he was on his way.

"Hey!...Oh, okay...yeah, I’ll give you my notes later,” Emily said with a sigh. "Talk to you later-", but Chris had already hung up. Emily closed the phone and set it down. She forced a tight smile and said, "Well, Chris, can't make it, something came up."

"Imagine that," Jason muttered under his breath. Leave it to Chris to come up with a way to avoid his girlfriend. Jason gave Emily a sideways glance. She was so pretty. And Chris treated her terribly. Jason put his pencil down and leaned back in his chair.

"All right, give it up. Chris won't tell me one way or the other, so you'll have to confess. Are you and Chris technically boyfriend, girlfriend? Or do you two just keep up a facade in order to trick everyone else? Because I'll tell you, it's rather disturbing to know I don't stand a chance because of a fake relationship." He surprised himself at his frankness, but he was tired of all the pussyfooting around.

Emily balked at the frank question. She stared openly for several seconds before regaining her composure. "Jason, Chris is just going through a rough time, you-," Emily attempted to sputter out, but she choked on her words at his glare. "We've never labeled ourselves," she finally managed to say, this time with much more strength and calm. She avoided the mention of whether he had a chance or not, because she was not exactly sure what he meant by that.

"You didn't have to label yourselves. Everyone else did that for you." He ran a hand through his curly red hair. "Look," he said in a softer voice. "You two are my friends and I don't want either of you hurt. But Chris just isn't there Emily. He's somewhere else right now and I think you should consider not getting tangled up in the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing."

Emily drew back in shock. "Wait? What do you mean Chris just isn't there? I mean well, obviously with all that is going on he isn't there, but you make that sound," Emily sputtered, her words tumbling over each other, but the look in Jason's eyes confirmed her worst fears. He placed his hand on top of her hers, but Emily jerked away as she leapt from her seat, knocking the glass of cider to the floor. It shattered into pieces. Emily bit her lip to keep from crying. She dropped down to the floor to attempt to pick up the pieces, but her shaking hands caused a piece to slip and slice her palm. Emily did not even cry out, she simply stared at the blood as it oozed from the wound. She felt Jason pulling her up and walking her towards the kitchen sink. She felt him place her hand under the running water and with the utmost care attend to her cut. Then she remembered what he had said earlier to her - about him not standing a chance. She watched his jaw clench, she saw his lips move, but she heard no words, she watched him gently stroke her hand, but she could not feel his tender touch. "How could I have been so stupid?" Emily asked of herself in a barely audible voice, not even realizing she had said it aloud.

"It's all quite understandable when you think about it." Jason wrapped her hand with a towel and pressed against the wound. He was not about to okay her relationship with Chris, but he was not about to tear it down now either. “Chris is a movie star, really. Well not a movie star but he has that aura about him. I suppose it's because of his family and all. I wouldn't know what that was like," he added with a teasing grin.

Emily felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. Was Jason as oblivious to all the girls in school gushing over him as she was to Chris's lack of affection towards her? She nodded in agreement. "I think I knew...," she finally admitted after watching Jason so tenderly take care of her hand. She knew Chris didn't feel the same way towards her that she did towards him and she knew Jason had his own more than friendly feelings towards her, but of all the people she knew, she felt the closest to Jason. She felt like he was a friend, one that no one else could come close to in kindness and loyalty.

He ignored the comments and the painful look of sympathy she was giving him. "There. We should really get back to studying. I just know I'll screw something up if I don't."

Emily impulsively kissed Jason on the cheek. It took her a moment to realize what she had done. She was never the type to be impulsive; that was Macy. She always looked before she leaped and thought before she spoke. He turned to look at her with a questioning gaze and Emily had no idea what to say, no explanation for her unusual actions. "Thanks," was all she could finally say after a long moment. "For caring enough to tell me."


Scene 4

Chris ducked as his grandmother swept by him trying to land an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. What was he, eight years old again? She didn't seem to notice but sat across from him handing him a tall glass filled with ginger ale. Yes, he thought miserably taking the glass, he was eight and he was in hell. Gwen smiled and took a sip of her own drink. White wine. She always had white wine.

"I'm really pleased that you agreed to spend the evening with me, Chris. We haven't had time together in ages," she said. Chris nodded but kept his thoughts to himself. No need to tell him that his dad had a date and he was being forced to stay here. "Tell me, how is school this year? Are you enjoying your classes?"

Did anyone in high school enjoy it, he thought. "Yes ma'am," he replied obediently. Did she really want to hear about Mr. Litwack who always looked like he needed a bath? Or maybe she wanted to hear about Coach Foster who seemed determined to make him the Varsity quarterback despite everyone else's objections.

"What's the name of your friend again? The English boy."

"Jason."

"Yes, Jason Rose. He has a sister doesn't he?" Gwen asked politely. "Isn't she an interior designer?"

"I guess so." This was torture. He reminded himself to give his father the cold shoulder for a long time to thank him for this.

"I've been meaning to have the parlor redecorated. Perhaps I'll call her." She gave him an appraising look. "How is your extra curricular activity going?"

"Extra curricular?" He repeated as alarm bells went off in his head.

"Football? I trust Dennis Foster is treating you well."

Chris' eyes widened in shock and realization. It wasn't his dad who got him on the team then. It was his grandmother! That made sense in a sick way. Gwen was always trying to run everyone else's life. Butting into his was totally like her. He nodded robotically at her feeling his anger rise at every intrusive question. How dare she mess with his life? Didn't she know what she had done to his reputation? How could she do this to him?

"Dennis is a good coach," she was saying. "Your father went to school with him but his mother was a good friend of mine many years ago too-"

"Grandmother, did you pay off coach Foster?" He asked bluntly cutting her off.

Gwen gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I don't know what you mean, Chris."

She did, goddam her. She did know and she did pay his way onto Varsity football! He got to his feet, the tall glass still clutched in his hand. "Thank you," he said stiffly. Her smile widened for a moment. "Thank you for ruining my life. Who asked you to interfere? Who asked you to make it a living hell?" He threw the glass across the room, smashing it into the brick fireplace. "Stay out of my life!"

He left the room and grabbed his coat without waiting for her to answer. At least it wasn't his dad. He didn't trust Jamie but at least he hadn't meddled in his life yet. He slammed the front door and bolted down the driveway without thinking of where he was going or how he would get home. It was cold for October and a chilly wind whipped across the countryside as he slowed to a walk. He tried to think about what he would do about the football team but he shoved it out of his head. He didn't want to think for a change. That's all he ever did anymore and he was tired of it.

He paused at a crossroads and stared back down the street where Four Winds loomed ominously. He could hear a car coming and he made a quick decision, ducking into the bushes beside the road to wait while it passed. He wasn't going back to the football team. He most certainly wasn't going back to Four Winds and he didn't want to go home either. The car passed slowly, lumbering down the road toward town. He stood and stared up at the sky.

There was only one place to go now. He turned up Elm Road, his feet pounding against the pavement. He'd call his father when he got there maybe. Somehow, Chris doubted he would be missed. He'd call Jason sooner though. He wanted someone to know where he had gone. Just in case. His decision made, he began to jog feeling better than he had in a long time.


Scene 5

"WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!"

Macy’s eyes widened and her hot pocket froze midway in the air between her plate and her mouth. She could not recall a time Emily had ever screamed at her...except for the time when they were seven and Macy burnt the hair off all of Emily’s Barbie dolls. Macy stammered for several seconds before managing to spit out a, "what?"

"About Chris!"  Emily cried chunking her bag on the ground and storming towards her.

Macy dropped her hot pocket and slid off the stool. Had Emily found out about her crush?! Macy quickly moved out the line of fire until both girls stood apart with only the kitchen’s center island between them.

"Chris?" Macy squeaked. Her throat suddenly feeling very dry.

"Yeah, I just got done talking with Jason!"  Emily cried across the counter.

"Jason knows?" Macy asked, voice still as squeaky as a mouse. Was Dylan right? Macy seemed like the tough twin to everyone from the outside, but honestly Emily was faster and freakishly strong just like Darcy.

"Of course, he’s Chris’ best friend, Macy, duh!" Emily screamed. "You’re my twin, Mace, my twin, Jason said everyone at school knew, including you, and you didn’t even bother to tell me...YOUR TWIN SISTER!"

"I’m sorry!" Macy cried. "But, how can you expect me to tell you something like that? Oh, yeah, Em, by the way, I like your boyfriend."

Emily’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise, and the angry lines in her forehead turned into arches of confusion, "what?" she asked, looking utterly bewildered.

Oh, oh no. Oh no. "That’s...not...what Jason told you?" Macy asked, voice shrill and tight again.

"No," Emily responded slowly. "He said Chris didn’t like me any longer, that he liked you." Chris liked her, too? Macy wondered, but Emily pressed on. "-that Chris had been consistently blowing me off and, I, so STUPID in my puppy love, failed to notice, and just made excuses for him. That the whole entire school KNEW that I, Emily McCormick, was being duped by Chris Mason. That he liked you!"

"Oh...well...I did know that," Macy slowly admitted, then bit her lip. Okay, so she had not meant to say that.

"I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!"

Well, that was the third time that Emily had now screamed at her in their lifetime. Macy recalled what Dylan had said to her and she choked out, "Em, please, try to understand, you can’t help who you like, I would never act on it!"

"Gawd, this just makes things ten times worse!" Emily screamed and lunged across the counter top and managed to tackle Macy to the floor. Who knew Em had this much Jareth and Darcy in her? Macy cried out as the back of her head smacked the hard floor. Emily pinned Macy’s shoulders down with her hands and her legs with her knees.

"EMILY!" Macy screamed, "DON’T TAKE YOUR RAGE AT YOURSELF OUT ON ME!"

Emily immediately stopped digging her knees and hands into Macy’s flesh, and instantly the numbness that had been creeping up disappeared. Macy sighed with relief. When Emily got upset she could defy all odds, maybe it was because she kept everything so suppressed with being "Little Miss Perfect." Emily moved off Macy and slumped against the counter.

"I’m so glad we can have these little bonding moments," Macy replied as she lifted herself up, rubbing the of her head.

"I’m still pissed at you."

"Just kidding, sis," Macy replied meekly.

"I just kept making excuses for him...I mean I didn’t think he liked you...but I had the idea he no longer felt the same way that I felt about him," Emily admitted.

Macy shrunk into herself at Emily’s harshness when she said ‘I mean I didn’t think he liked you.’ She stammered at first, unsure if she should say it, but she finally said, "I had a feeling you did."

"How could I be so stupid?" Emily asked and her voice shook a little. A tear trickled down her face. Emily wiped at it, "Man, I already did this...in front of Jason."

Macy wrapped her arms protectively around her sister and pulled her to her. "Yeah, when you like someone...it just seems to have that effect," Macy said, her thoughts turning to Dylan.


Scene 6

Catherine and Darcy sullenly drove to school...on a Saturday...to meet Mr. Jency for whatever delights he had planned for them. He enjoyed this far too much in Catherine's opinion.

"So do you still wanna jump Mr. Jency's bones?" Darcy asked with a chuckle as she turned the old Corvette into the school parking lot. At least it was running well for the time being, as it got colder, she was sure they would be back to using Catherine's Lexus.

"I want to break his bones and if I have to do that through sex, then yes," Catherine replied roughly.

"Ew, Cat, S&M, bad taste," Darcy laughed. "Maybe trying to seduce him over the Hemmingway paper wasn't such a bright idea..."

Catherine whipped her head towards Darcy at that. "Well, he may have a vendetta out for me now, but he's still a male!" she snapped.

Darcy tried not to chuckle. She had to admit it was kind of nice to see Catherine getting a taste of her own.   "Darcy, park the damn car, it's a Saturday, no one's going to hit your car!" Catherine shrieked. This was not going to be a fun day, not because they were spending Saturday at school, but because Catherine was in a MOOD.

"Okay, only dogs could hear you on those last couple words, Cat," Darcy replied calmly, knowing better than to rile her friend of eight years up in one of these instances.

They sauntered up the front, concrete steps and through the front doors of the old building. Catherine's heels clicking on the tile floors with more attitude than usual. Her whole entire body language clearly stated, 'I am not happy.' As a statement of rebellion, Catherine had worn a cropped jersey top which revealed an expanse of smooth, flat stomach. It was a Saturday, as far as she was concerned, school dress code did not apply.

"Cat, little tip, the more pissed you look, the more you will delight Mr. Jency," Darcy advised as the entered the front office.

Eric lounged casually against the wall listening to Sara Giamatti talk. She was a pretty girl if a little on the boring side. Her passion was helping people. Not that he was against that. On the contrary, it was one of the things about her that he found attractive. It was just that all she talked about was her charities. He wanted to hear her talk about music or books or...Christ, anything else. She had just asked him how he felt about Greenpeace when Catherine Fairchild and Darcy McCormick entered the room.

"Well, glad you two could make it," he said straightening. Eric took in Cat's appearance. It would never do. Reaching behind the desk, he pulled a long sleeve Generals jersey from a shelf. "Catherine, you'll have to wear this. I'm afraid your outfit is a little inappropriate."

Catherine started to laugh as if to say 'in your dreams,' but Darcy elbowed her. Catherine snatched the shirt from Mr. Jency's hands, her French-tipped nails barely grazing his skin, not bothering to shield her annoyance. Darcy had to admit she was amused by Mr. Jency. He was probably the first teacher who refused to take her crap.

"I guess you two will want to know what we're up to today, right?" Eric asked without a second thought about Catherine's new attire. Miss Giamatti pulled a flier from a folder and handed it to him. "Have either of you heard of Pleasant Manor?"

"Yeah, isn't it that retirement home on the outskirts?" Catherine asked absently.

"It is," Miss Giamatti replied primly. "Eric...I mean Mr. Jency and I are planning something special for the residents, aren't we?"

Eric nodded, ignoring her fluttery attention. "The residents of Pleasant Manor don't have a lot of family. With the holidays coming up, the Student Leadership Society will be planning a Thanksgiving dinner and a Christmas party for them." He caught the roll of eyes from both girls. "How does that sound?" He added seriously. Noting the crinkle in both their nose’s, he continued, "look, I realize you both are here under duress, but I think once you get a little involved you might start to enjoy yourselves. There's a lot to plan and do. Today, I thought we could go meet some of the residents."

Obviously, Mr. Jency did not know them very well, Darcy thought. Catherine was not even bothering to pay attention anymore. "Really, girls I think you will enjoy it," Mrs. Giamatti chipped in. Catherine sent her a chilling gaze. She had had Mrs. Giamatti once before and found her to be far to chipper and a horrible dresser. "We're ready when you are," Darcy finally said dully after Catherine had successfully stared down the young female teacher.

"Enthusiasm," Eric said sarcastically. "Gotta love it. You can ride with me in the school van," he added catching a fleeting look of disappointment from Miss Giamatti. He couldn't have them skipping out on them now, could he?

"Yeah, not leaving my car here," Darcy replied matter-of-fact.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Darcy, if the damn thing gets hit, I'll pay for it!"

Darcy sent Catherine a sneer that quickly made her shut-up. "We're not gonna skip out on you if we take my car," Darcy replied with exasperation.

"It isn't that I don't trust you," Eric replied coolly. "But I'm not sure you know the way. I have a better idea. Catherine can ride with me and Miss Giamatti can ride with Darcy. Now, let's go, all right? I promised the director we'd be there by ten."

At one time, sharing some alone time with Mr. Jency would certainly have set fire to her loins, but Catherine set sullenly in the passenger's seat, arms crossed over her chest. She had not bothered to make small talk of any sort during the drive.

Eric glanced at Catherine briefly before returning his attention to the road. She was going to make this difficult of course. Why, he had no idea. Darcy, at least, seemed more agreeable to the idea of helping senior citizens. Maybe he was being foolish, but Eric Jency believed he could change Catherine Fairchild for the better. He wanted to mentor her and make her see more of the world through other eyes and not just her own spoiled ones. He coughed briefly, breaking the silence.

"Do you want to listen to something?" He asked reaching for the CD player. "It's about twenty minutes to Pleasant Manor."

"Whatever works for you," Catherine replied with a careless shrug. As Mr. Jency shifted through the stations, Catherine absently listed to the stations, before suddenly jumping in her seat and exclaiming, "oh, stop right there, I love that song!" Mr. Jency looked a little shock at her sudden zeal, but stopped as demanded. The Beatles' Yesterday filled the expanse of the van. Catherine returned to her sullen position, ever so often the words to the song softly escaping her throat.

Eric left the radio on the oldies station, waiting politely until the song was over before speaking. "So, Beatles fan? Which one do you like? John or Paul? Can't like them both. It's impossible. Wait, let me guess. I'll bet you're a John fan."

"And you're a Paul fan, how will we ever get along?" Catherine asked with a touch of sarcasm, but she smiled a little.

"So far, it doesn't appear that we are," Eric mumbled. He liked Catherine well enough but she had a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas.

"Look, I'm sorry about the Hemmingway paper thing," Catherine said. "But I'm not sorry about the fighting." A brief silence ensued and right as Mr. Jency opened his mouth to speak, Catherine verbally assaulted him. "I mean, that was absolute crap what you did in the office! How can you view it so black and white? Darcy and I may get into a lot of shit, but we would never hurt someone who did not deserve it! I can't tell you how many people Darcy has beat up for picking on someone who did not deserve it. And as far as the paper goes, I gave you exactly what was needed, any other teacher would have graded it accordingly, so what's your problem with me?" she demanded shrilly.

Eric pulled over into a parking lot and shut the engine off. He turned to her, anger coming off of him in waves. She had a lot of nerve not to mention an overwhelming sense of entitlement that he found alarming to say the least. "Let's clear a few things up shall we? Your paper was mediocre at best. If I had graded it accordingly, you would have gotten a B. I know you can do better than that. I only wanted you to try a little harder than you obviously did. As for the fighting-" He paused trying to rein in his anger a little. "As for the fighting, what in the hell makes you think violence at any time is okay?"

"You give people too much credit," Catherine snapped back, in no way backing down or turned away by his anger. "The majority of the population completely lacks the Gandhi sense of civil disobedience to make a point, you have to treat them like dogs, the alpha uses physical dominance to achieve its means, and frankly that’s how it works with most people. And the paper, I gave you exactly what you needed! For God sake's, who needs literary criticism to make it in the world!"

"No one. But you do need analytical skills to make good decisions. Which, if I can just point out, you are not capable of Catherine," he snapped back. "I don't care what you think of the population at large, you cannot go around beating people up because they asked for it. Violence isn't the answer in any situation."

"My decision making ability is fine, Mr. Jency," Catherine said through clenched teeth. "That bitch, Carla Kilgore, has been slashing Darcy on the field the entire practice season, if she doesn't stop she's going to damage Darcy's knee, and a lacrosse scholarship is Darcy's only means to college, and you may think I am spoiled, selfish rich brat, but I'll be damned if some small-town mentality bimbo who will never amount to anything significant in her life is going to destroy my best friend's future who has every capability of being significant!" Catherine wanted to lunge at Mr. Jency at this moment. How dare he insult her like that?!

Eric tried a different tact. "Your loyalty to Darcy is admirable, it really is. But problems don't get solved by violence. Has it ever occurred to you that Darcy could get really hurt just by fighting Carla? I know you're sticking up for your best friend but there are other ways to do that besides the way you choose to."

"Um, no offense, Mr. Jency, but Darcy could kick your ass," Catherine explained. "And I do understand what you're saying, but civil disobedience or whatever you want to call it is going to fly over the head of someone like Carla."

Eric let that one go. Darcy McCormick could no more kick his ass than his sister could. "I just want you to understand that there are other ways of settling differences. Do you think I don't know about Carla Kilgore's tendencies to go after Darcy on the playing field? I coach the soccer team on the next field, Catherine. I see it happen all the time."

"Mr. Jency, I know their are other means," Catherine replied with exasperation, "but those means are not effective on certain people...most people...they just don't have the ability to think on that level."

"Do you think you can solve all your problems like that? What happens when you go to college? What you and Darcy did to Carla today would land you in jail if you tried that on someone in college." He doubted he would get through to her but he hoped he could at least make a dent.

"I know that," she replied evenly. "I don't use it as a means of solving every problem that arises and in college...hopefully...the mentality has changed a little. I know you think that I don't get it, Mr. Jency, but I fully realize violence is not a means to solving situations, but I am not going to be so idealistic as to say that it doesn't solve some."

He rolled his eyes and dropped the subject. Violence wasn't the answer to anything. Instead, he pointed out Pleasant Manor as it came into view. "There it is. I'm sure the residents will be happy to see us today."

Catherine released a pent-up breath of annoyance at Mr. Jency's eye roll. For a brief moment she thought of simply getting out of the vehicle and walking away from the situation entirely. As arrogant as Catherine was, she did not assume her way was the only way. "You know for an English teacher who deals with entirely subjective matter, you are awfully fixated on your view as being the right view." With that Catherine, threw open the van door, and hopped out.

"I happen to think my view in this particular matter is the right view," Eric replied cautiously. "Let's drop it okay?"

"You disappoint me," Catherine snapped back and she meant it. Darcy and Miss Giamatti were patiently waiting, chatting almost amicably with one another, certainly reflecting the opposite of the tension between Catherine and Eric.

Eric slammed the door and followed her, his temper flaring. "I disappoint you?" He repeated. "That's rich, Catherine. Considering you are probably the most beautiful woman I have ever met but you're so convinced that your way is the only way and that your actions have no consequences that I actually don't think there's any room for you to grow into a decent human being!" He snapped angrily.

"I never said that," Catherine cried with more passion, than anger. "I saw your view, I realize your view, and I accept it as legit, I actually try and see where you are coming from, but do you bother to offer me that luxury, no, you simply assume what everyone else assumes, that I am just another selfish, shallow, rich brat and that is why you disappoint me, because for some inane reason, I thought you could see beyond that, but I guess I was wrong!"

Arguing with the girl was futile. She had her own thoughts and nothing he said would change them now. Too bad, he thought. She would be the perfect girl if she just had an open mind. As it was, she was all beauty with some brains thrown in for good measure but no compassion. Maybe he couldn't bend because he was narrow minded as well, but then he didn't go around beating people up because they asked for it.

"I think that's the end of our conversation. Be nice to these people," he warned walking away from her. "Or I'll make sure you get what's really coming to you."



Scene 7

Jason's cell phone rang waking him up at ten. He'd stayed home studying on a Friday night instead of going to the party everyone else had because of Emily McCormick. When she left, he'd been so tense that he hadn't been able to relax and fall asleep until three. When he had slept, he had dreamed of her. In a way, he was relieved to wake up and end the dreams of Emily McCormick.

"Hullo?" He mumbled stifling a yawn.

"Did I wake you?"

Jason's eyes popped open wide awake. "Chris, man, what the hell happened to you last night? She cried, you know."

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked. "Look, nevermind. I need your help. Can you go to my house this afternoon and pack a bag of clothes for me? You know where the spare key is, right?"

"Yeah. Why do I need to get you clothes?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, my dad had a morning meeting at the hospital so he won't be back until one. Think you get there by then?"

"I guess so. Are you going to tell me why I'm doing this?"

"No. Not yet at any rate. Just do it please? Oh and in my desk there's a key to a lock box under my bed. It should have about six hundred in cash in it. Can you get that too?"

Jason bolted to an upright position throwing his sheet back off his legs. Just what the bloody hell was Chris up to? "What is going on? I won't do anything until you tell me what's happened. Are you in trouble?"

"No." He heard a heavy sigh from Chris. "I'm in Richmond."

"How'd you get there?"

"I caught a bus last night. My grandmother paid off Coach Foster."

That explained a lot. Jason didn't know Gwen Mason very well but he'd heard stories. "Is that why you canceled on Emily?"

"Yeah I'm sorry about that. Look, I'm heading to Toronto to live with my mother-"

"You mean Michaela?" Jason interrupted. Chris' biological mother was a nutcase. If he was heading to her, then he was crazy too. "Please tell me you mean Michaela."

"Of course I do. You think I'm stupid?" Chris snapped. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

"It's okay man. So no one knows you're gone?"

"No. And I need it to stay that way until I get to Toronto. Do you think you can borrow your sister's car and come to Richmond with my stuff?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jason asked staring out the window already thinking of what he would need to do today just to help his best friend. "You could tell your dad about it and he could-"

"He could what? Defend her? No thanks. I'm going to Toronto. Will you help me or not?"

What else could Jason say? Chris was his best friend in the world and he needed help. "Yeah. I'll help you. Just tell me what else you need me to do."
 

On the next Episode of Secret Horizons...

"Hi Mr. Mason.  I was just getting some of Chris' clothes," he said quickly.

"Where's Chris?"