Marcella called that night. We'd met accidentally over the internet and discovered that we'd gone to the same elementary school. We used to hang out all the time before she'd moved a couple hours away.

"So what's new with you?"she asked after giving me all the boring details of her latest love of her life, aka Ed.

I never liked the name Ed. He reminded me of that kid in first grade the smelled funny.

Anyway, I knew she'd kill me if I didn't tell her, so I explained the whole situation. You know, the fact that they were living in my house.

"Are you serious?"She laughed even harder than I'd thought she would."Do they use facial masks and paint their nails?"

"Marcella."I groaned.

"What?"she asked innocently."I've always wanted to know."

I laughed, ignoring the strange looks I received from my Mom who was fixing dinner."Well I don't know about that stuff, but things sure aren't as great as all the fans would have you think in fan fiction."

"Really? How so?"

"Why don't you come down for the weekend and find out?"I suggested. Marcella hadn't been out for a visit in a while.

"Okay."

****

Somehow I thought things would not only be great that weekend, but up until that weekend as well.

You ever have one of those days? You know what I mean, the kind that just gets worse and worse as the day goes on?

Thursday was one of those days.

A couple of months ago I was writing something on my calendar and the tack went flying. When I got out of bed Thursday morning, I stepped on it, sharp side up.

See what I mean?

"Man, someone's grouchy this morning,"Zac said, antagonizing me. I had so little self- control by that point that I almost hit him. Literally.

"Look,"I muttered,"I'm going to Blockbuster and I figured that the polite thing to do would be to ask if anyone would like to come with me even though I really don't want company."

Now a normal person would have backed off at that point. Zac said he'd love to come.

"So whatcha gonna rent?"he asked all too cheerfully in the car.

I gripped the steering wheel."Scarlet."

"What's that?"

"The sequel to Gone With the Wind."

"I didn't know Margaret Mitchell wrote a sequel."

"She didn't."

"Than how,"he began.

"Someone else wrote it!"

He slumped down in the seat, looking like he finally got the picture. I felt bad but I just couldn't take it anymore. All I wanted was to get to the store and rent the stupid movie.

It wasn't there anymore. I couldn't believe it. I'd seen it a month ago and suddenly it was missing. Not rented, but just not there!

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Zac getting closer. I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me. I willed him to realize that I was going to hit him if he came near me and asked if I'd found the movie, but apparently my telepathic abilities aren't very well developed.

He asked.

I almost screamed, seriously. I let him chatter for several moments and after unsuccessfully trying to ditch him in a search for another movie, any movie, I gave him a light shove away from me.

Okay, I knocked him over. I meant to just give him a light shove, but somehow I managed to knock the kid over. And he's not as little as he used to be.

As he lay sprawled on the carpet, staring at me with this shocked look on his face, I stalked off. After stomping around the store several times, trying to find another movie to watch, and finding nothing, I decided to just go home.

Zac was sitting meekly in a chair by the door, watching me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before. Fear.

I made a motion with my head and we both walked out and silently rode home.

After screaming into my pillow a few times after we got back and listening to Linkin Park in my bedroom, I felt a lot better. So when Mom asked me to go to her Bible group that night, I figured, why not?

I threw on one of my favorite dresses and, grabbing a pair of shoes, ran downstairs. We were running late so I didn't bother buckling my shoes, intending to do it in the car. I tried to hurry outside, but considering my platform heels were falling off my feet it ended up being slower than I'd expected.

I jumped into the backseat, next to Isaac (who had volunteered to come) and remembered that I'd left my purse inside.

Knowing that I couldn't run inside with my shoes flapping, I kicked them off and ran inside, twisting my ankle in a painful way on the way in. Then I limped back to the car and sat down in the back seat, wincing in pain.

"Are you okay?"Isaac asked.

I shrugged. I wanted to kill myself at that point, I don't know if that constitutes okay or not.

As we pulled into my grandmothers driveway to pick her up, I put my hand down on the seat beside me. And suddenly realized that I'd left my Bible at home.

I almost burst into tears right there and then.

"How are you dear?"My grandmother asked, just like she did every week."

"Just fine,"I said in an overly sugary sweet tone, laced with sarcasm that I knew she at least wouldn't pick up on.

Isaac must have though, because he patted my hand softly and then continued staring out the window.

It had just been one of those days.