Part Three

"GiGi, come onnnn," Lane drawled. "It's only a ten-minute walk to the mall from here..."

"Lane, it doesn't matter if it's a ten-second walk. We can't go to the mall after school. After that stunt at the hospital, my mom literally said I'm grounded until I'm thirty."

"Yeah, well mine said I'm grounded 'til Jesus comes back, but you don't see that stopping me."

GiGi crossed her arms. "Lane, are you even hearing yourself right now? Aside from the very real prospect of both of our moms murdering us, there's also the tiny matter of that huge taxonomy test tomorrow—you know, the one you said you'd study for last weekend?"

"GiGi, you know I can't study unless I get enough mall time. Mom grounded me on Friday, and I was totally planning to study on Saturday. But she said I couldn't go to the mall, so I like obviously couldn't study..."

GiGi just laughed and shook her head. "Lane Martin, you're unbelievable."

Lane sighed. "At least promise me you'll think about it..."

"Oh, I've thought about it, and my answer is no. You can go if you want, but don't expect me to come bail you out when your mom sends in a SWAT team."

"GiGi! Lane!" a squeaky voice screeched out from behind them.

Both girls turned to face the pint-sized kindergartener barreling forward.

"Hi, Irina!" Lane piped up. "How's it going?"

Her only response was to hug Lane's leg, then GiGi's, and then she plopped her miniature backpack down on the carpeted hallway floor and unzipped it.

"Look what I made!" she squealed with delight as she pulled from her bag a bright orange circle cut from construction paper. Thick strokes of a permanent marker had been used to draw lines reminiscent of the black strips on a basketball.

"Irina, that's so good!" Lane praised the six-year-old. "Is that for Sam?"

Irina nodded vigorously. "Mmhmm!"

"How sweet..." Lane cooed.

"Do you think he'll like it?"

Lane giggled. "Oh, honey, I know he will. Want me to give it to him? Me and GiGi are about to see him in fourth period."

"Yay!" Irina practically shoved the paper basketball into Lane's arms, then started jumping up and down.

Lane was gushing with delight while GiGi simply laughed knowingly, and the bell for class dinged amid the girls' revelry.

"Oh my gosh," little Irina gasped, frowning. "I'm gonna be late again."

"Honey, relax," Lane assured her. "Here. Let me walk you back to your classroom, and I'll tell your teacher you were just...learning from the big kids."

Irina looked unsure at first, but Lane's confident smile managed to quell her fears after a few moments. "Okay," she finally squeaked. "You're the best, Lane."

Lane held her hand to her heart. "Oh, sweetie," she sniffled in appreciation. "Be sure to say that around Sam, okay?"

"Yeah!" Irina screamed out. "We're all gonna be best friends forever!"

Lane smiled and rested a palm on Irina's shoulder, grasping Sam's gift tightly in her other hand as the girls traipsed together to the kindergarten rooms.

Best friends, Lane thought to herself. Irina, you have no idea.

She dropped the kindergartener off at her classroom, donning her best smile as she explained why Irina had "needed a little help" in the hallway before heading back to class.

"Oh, how nice of you," Mrs. Gerald, the kindergarten teacher, had said to Lane, who nodded and curtsied before leaving the room.

Once back in the hallway, she met up with GiGi, and the two scurried off to Mrs. Alvin's class, giggling all the way. By some miracle, Mrs. Alvin still hadn't made it to the classroom when the girls arrived.

Lane grabbed GiGi's arm and yanked her over to the corner furthest from the entrance, where Sam sat next to three empty desks.

That's weird, Lane thought, noting the vacant seats. I wonder where his team is. She paused. Maybe they stopped at Wal Mart. I heard there's a sale on cheap cologne and prepubescent zit cream.

"You're not sitting alone, are you?" Lane asked as innocently as she could.

Sam glanced up at her. "What? Oh, yeah. A few of the guys got really sick last night."

"Oh no, that's awful." Lane's hand rose to her mouth as GiGi started rolling her eyes. "Mind if me and GiGi sit?"

He smiled. "Not at all."

Lane swept her hand through her hair, giving it a minor flip before taking a seat. "Oh, before I forget:" She held up the crafted basketball cutout she'd gotten from Irina. "This is for you, Sam. Courtesy of your kindergarten buddy."

Sam's eyes grew wide, the widest Lane had ever seen. "Whoa," he breathed. "Lane, this is awesome. Thank you!"

Before Lane knew what was happening, Sam was leaning closer, he was reaching out, he was hugging her, holding her tight against his shapely frame. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank you so much."

The moment she pressed into him, fire surged through every inch of Lane's body. Her arms wobbled and popped with goosebumps, and her legs turned jigglier than grape jelly.

"Y—you're welcome," she finally managed, her voice cracking like an off-key opera singer.

Lane didn't want to let go. She embraced Sam, full of warmth and happiness, and he didn't tug away either. He stayed there, hugged her back, didn't release.

Lane was beaming, glowing, until the familiar footfall of square-bottomed heels cut short her moment:

"Miss Martin, Mister Irish," came that dull and draggy old-woman voice that Lane had come to know as Mrs. Alvin's. "Please take care to adhere to school rules. Public displays of affection are pro­hibited."

Sam drew away in an instant, as did Lane, both of their eyes darting from one another. Lane shrank back into her seat, her lower lip puffing out as her mind spewed a myriad of unspoken insults at the rubber-faced cow who meandered for the chalkboard at the front of the room.

"And as for the rest of you," Mrs. Alvin prattled on, "I hope you haven't forgotten about your examination tomorrow. Biological taxonomy is one of the most important things we study. After all, it's among the few unchanging and categorical methods with which we are able to characterize our ever-changing world..."

Words. Words. Words. Oh my gosh, when is this lady going to freaking SHUT UP!?

Lane reached into her backpack to retrieve the twelve-ton biology textbook resting on top of her folders and pencil pouch. She grabbed a light-up gel pen and sparkling green notebook to create the illusion of interested note-taking as Mrs. Alvin's lead-in to lecture dragged mercilessly through the stiff classroom air.

With her pen's glittering ink, Lane doodled the word die-ology on the top of the empty notebook page she'd turned to. She sketched two circles on top of each other, the second ridiculously larger than the first, then added stick arms, stick legs, and a duly ornery caption—Alvin and the Dipjunk. She scribbled on some tacky high-heels and a dress that was way too tight for that obese body.

Glancing back up at Mrs. Alvin, who'd begun clattering her chalk across the board, Lane couldn't help but giggle. She took another peek at her masterpiece of gleaming ink and sighed lightly, casting her mind elsewhere.

So, I'm pretty sure Sam adores me now. I'm really gonna have to get Irina some more tropical skittles. That little girl is magic.

She paused. Mom still hates me, she thought, but what else is new? I just wish GiGi'd go to the mall with me. We haven't been in like a week!

She kept glancing back intermittently at her doodled-upon notebook, back at that image of Mrs. Alvin. And then she got an idea—a brilliant, brilliant idea.

She ripped the glittery drawing from her notebook and folded it in her hand, then stretched those luscious lips of hers into a wide and clever smile.

****

"It wasn't my fault, Mom," Lane said into the school's public phone. "How was I supposed to know Mrs. Alvin would be walking around the classroom? She always stays at the front. I mean, have you seen those thick thighs? Pretty sure the only exercise she gets is rolling in the floor with her twenty cats."

"Lane, that's enough!" Mrs. Martin screamed back at her. "I can't believe you got detention!"

"Oh, relax—it's just an hour and a half."

"I don't care if it's five minutes! The fact that you're so shamelessly disrespectful to your teachers is unacceptable." She exhaled, weariness in her voice.

"Mom, are you seriously lecturing me right now?"

"Yes, Lane, I am lecturing you!" She screamed again, pausing. It sounded almost as if tears were caught in her voice. "You've been so out of control lately...and...and I—"

"Mom," Lane cut in, thankful that her mother couldn't see her rolling her eyes, "I have to go. Fifth period is about to start. Can we please just do this later?"

Another sigh from Mrs. Martin. "Fine, Lane. But this discussion isn't over. I'll be there to pick you up at four-thirty."

Lane placed the phone back on the hook within a second, then twisted around to face the hallway.

A wide smile spread across Lane's face as she spotted GiGi striding towards her.

"Well, someone looks happy," GiGi said. "What happened? Did Sam invite you to make out in the janitor's closet?"

"Ugh, I wish," Lane laughed. "Anyway, I just got off the phone with my mom, and I can finally go to the mall again!"

GiGi's frowned, confusion darting across her face. "What? How is that possible? I thought your mom said—"

"I got 'detention,'" Lane joked, making air-quotes with her fingers. "I told my mom Mrs. Alvin saw that drawing I made of her and sent me to the office." She placed a hand on her hip. "And that gives me an extra hour and a half after school."

"Wait, slow down. You lied to her?"

"Well, yeah." Lane shrugged her shoulders.

"Lane, that's terrible!"

"Oh, please. It's not like it matters. She'll never know, and—"

"That's the same thing you said last time, and now my mom literally hates me."

"GiGi, it's not like I'm asking you to go with me. You already said you wouldn't. It's not that big of a deal."

"Are you seriously not the least bit worried about this? Your mom would be so mad at you if she found out."

Lane turned and looked her best friend in the eye. "GiGi, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. My mom's always mad at me. She only ever treats me like a little kid, and she never listens to me." She grabbed her sunglasses from the side pocket in her backpack and placed them over her eyes. "So why should I care about what she has to say?"

"Lane, she's still your mother..."

"Yeah, and I'm still her daughter. But that doesn't seem to mean anything to her. She doesn't believe me, she doesn't trust me, and she doesn't love me. She's honestly not even a mom."

As they walked down the hallway, the girls passed the memorial to Ruby Densett still situated along the wall, her smiling visage enshrined in an oval frame.

"She didn't even believe me about Ruby," Lane added, glancing to her left. "I straight up told her I saw Mr. Clather kidnapping someone, and she said I was just making up stories to keep from getting grounded."

"Lane, to be fair, it does sound kind of unbelievable...and you had just paid someone off to drug her..."

"GiGi, whose side are you on?" Lane whined. "Are you seriously agreeing with my mom right now?"

"Lane, of course not...I just wish you wouldn't hate her. She's the only family you have left..."

Lane froze, felt ice run through her veins.

GiGi hesitated. "Lane, I—I didn't mean..."

"Doesn't matter." Her words were sharp. "Doesn't matter one bit."

"Lane..."

"And you're wrong," Lane stabbed into the air. "Daddy was the only family I had left." Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. "I don't have a mother—I have an old maid who likes to nag me about every little thing I do."

"Lane, please..."

"I'm an orphan, GiGi. I have been ever since I was seven."

****

Lane waved goodbye to GiGi after school when Mrs. Gravestepper came to pick her up, then headed back inside to go to 'detention.' With a switch in her step, Lane sauntered to her locker and shoved her bookbag inside, exchanging it for her shiny pink-and-gold purse.

Looping the purse strap over her shoulder, she spun around from her locker and headed for the double-doors at the back of the school, passing the principal's office as she did.

She shoved open the doors and stepped out into the parking lot, then did a three-sixty sweep with her eyes to double check that her mom hadn't come early.

With Elizabeth Martin nowhere in sight, Lane strode forward and to the left. The mall would only be a ten-minute walk from where she was; if she hurried, maybe not even that long.

She was ambling across the lot, beelining for the main sidewalk that ran alongside the highway, when she heard the rustling of trees. She flicked her head backwards, spotted a figure in a yellow-and-blue jersey pushing back some low-hanging moss. On shaky steps, he lumbered into the woods covering the asphalted edge of the school's property.

Lane's heart skipped a beat—she knew that jersey.

Sam?

She watched as his muscular frame disappeared behind moss and shrubbery, the light crunch of wintering brown leaves sounding in the distance.

Lane peered around the parking lot again, eyes scouring for lingering onlookers, then sprinted across the lot toward the woodsy end of EdgeWay. She cringed as tiny rocks ground under her shoes, berating herself for subjecting a pair of designer silk-laden flats to such indignity.

She arrived at the trees and heard Sam's slogging footsteps, their thump against the stodgy grass growing fainter each moment. Wrinkling her nose at the sight of gnats buzzing about the entrance to the woods, Lane forced herself inside, shivering as one of the mossy tresses stroked her left arm.

She tiptoed as quickly as she could, trying her best to ignore the incessant hum of creepy crawlies and frumpy flythings. Ew, ew, EW! This is so gross!

Lane continued to follow Sam's footfall through the forest trail, trekking for what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes or so. When she made it to what appeared to be a clearing, Sam's footsteps stopped.

Lane clawed her way past more moss, nearly tripping over a braided tree root, and arrived at the forest's edge. Widely in front of her, as far as she could see, green grass spread along a low-cut field; atop the grass, tombstones—hundreds and hundreds of tombstones.

What the—?

More footsteps, this time lighter and less crunchy.

Lane peered around the field and spotted Sam about a hundred yards to her left, walking toward a gravestone that sat apart from several of the others around it.

Lane stayed hidden in the trees but moved toward Sam, hopping over branches and ducking behind sprouting bushes to avoid being seen. Covered by a tall shrub, she was mere yards away when Sam knelt down at the silvery grave before him, placed flowers gently in front of it, and began to speak:

"I'm—I'm really missing you today, Sis." The words cracked from between his lips. "I know it's never gonna be the same, but...I don't know." He sniffled, swiped at his nose.

Lane felt something deep and hollow rise up in her chest. She'd never seen this Sam before; he was a far cry from the basketball allstar of her dreamy fantasies. And yet, she still felt drawn to him as he sat there, his back hunched forward and his perfect eyes fighting back tears.

Lane stared cautiously at the tombstone. BETHANY IRISH, AGED 6, it read.

Lane covered her mouth in shock. No way! Sam had a sister? She fixed her eyes back on him, zircon eyes glistening wet as his lips parted to speak once more:

"That girl, Irina...my kindergarten buddy—it's her birthday tomorrow. She'll be the same age you were back then...back when the doctors said..."

Straining to hear Sam's tremulous words, Lane crouched forward behind the shadow of a shivering shrub, stepping suddenly upon a fallen branch that snapped beneath her weight. The clamorous crack of the twisted wood echoed through the trees.

Sam whirled around with his fists balled—

CRAP!

"Who's there?" Sam called, springing to his feet without a moment's hesitation. "Show yourself!"

"...It's just me." Bowing her head, Lane parted a path through the shrubbery with both hands, digging past the leaves to face him.

"Lane?" Sam gasped. "What...what're you doing here?"

"I—I just...I was on my way to the mall, and...and I saw you."

"S-saw me?" He quivered. "Saw me where?"

Lane looked down as she slinked closer to him, silk flats tracking across the pale grass. "Going into the woods behind EdgeWay." She paused. "I didn't...I didn't know why, but I thought maybe...you could use someone to talk to?"

He stood still, staring at her without a word.

Lane sighed. "Whatever. Just...just forget it." She could feel tears of her very own building behind her eyes. "I'm sorry...I promise I wasn't trying to eavesdrop." She turned her back to Sam and headed for the trees.

"Lane," he finally spoke. "Lane, wait."

She froze at the nearest tree, waited for him to walk over to her.

"How much...how much of that did you hear?" he asked uneasily.

She looked down again, afraid to turn and meet his piercing gaze. "Just the part about Irina's birthday tomorrow," she began with trepidation. "And something about a sister you had who...died..."

He sighed. "So you heard all of it, then."

"Sam, I promise you I didn't mean to." She whirled around at last to face him. "I just..." She froze the moment she saw his eyes—saw the sadness, the fear.

"Please, Lane," he said after a moment's deliberation. "Please don't tell anyone. Nobody at school knows. Even Pastor Hall doesn't."

"Of course not," Lane blurted in an instant. "Sam, I would never. I swear to you." She stared earnestly back at him.

He returned her stare, but only for a moment before flicking his head left and glancing away. Under the paling afternoon sky, Lane could've sworn his squared jaw was hewn of pure carved ivory.

He turned and trudged back to Bethany's grave, kneeling once more. Legs quavering with every step, Lane followed his lead and knelt gently beside him.

"Do...do you come here every day?" she asked.

"I try to." His voice was low, closed off. He blinked in an instant, and the tiniest of teardrops fell from between his eyelashes. "She'd just turned six. Was excited to be starting elementary school soon so she could play with other kids."

"But...what about the kids in the kindergarten?"

Sam shook his head. "She was home schooled through K5. Both of us were." His voice cracked again, and another tear, this time full and round, skittered down his cheek. "She kept asking Mom if...if she could skip the first three grades. She wanted to be in the same class as me."

Lane felt a sob creeping up her throat, but she swallowed it down.

"And then one day," Sam's voice was shaky, crumbling in breathy trills, "one day we were playing together in the backyard, and she just...collapsed. I thought she was joking, so I kept shaking her, telling her to quit joking around." His hands were trembling now, and he sniffled between his words.

"Sam...I can't...that's awful. I'm so sorry."

"The doc said it was meningitis. We'd gotten her to the hospital as fast as we could, but...it wasn't enough."

Lane sniffled. "Is that...is that why you and Irina are such good friends? Does she remind you of Bethany?"

Sam looked up at her, and for a moment almost seemed like he wanted to smile. "Yeah," he replied, "she really does."

Lane sat back and pulled her legs into her chest, circling them with her arms. She sighed heavily, then turned back to face Sam. "I've lost someone too," she whispered. "I know how it feels. Or I guess...I sort of know, at least."

Sam twisted his face to her, his cheeks still streaked with drying tears.

"It was my dad," Lane said. "His name was Everett, and he was a pilot. After every flight, he would always pick me up and let me ride on his back." She paused, laughing lightly. "He said he'd take me anywhere I wanted to go, and that I didn't have any siblings because when Mom had me, he'd gotten all he ever needed."

Lane let out another airy laugh, this one punctuated with a stiffening sniffle as water pooled above her cheeks. "He said I could be whoever and whatever I wanted in life, and...and that Jesus was the only person who loved me more than he did." She pulled her gaze from Sam to stare at the grass beneath her legs, the tiny crawling bugs scattered about, and watched unrepentant as liquid drops rained down from her eyes. Insects scurried from her tears and the sound of her sniffling sobs.

Lane felt the warmth of Sam's body moving closer to her. She leaned her shoulder against his, sighs and whimpers escaping from her chest.

"I never thought he was going to disappear," Lane whispered again. "He said he'd never leave me. So when he went to go flying one Tuesday, I didn't even say goodbye. Mom dropped me off at EdgeWay, but it was Mrs. Gravestepper who came and picked me up at the end of the day...she said my mom had left town to give my aunt the horrible news. My dad'd had an aneurysm; his co-pilot had to take control of the plane, and they had an emergency landing. But Daddy was dead before they even made it to the ground.

"And everyone was so nice to me for two weeks. I got to stay home from school, and my classmates brought me candy and toys and cards. They tried to make me feel like the most special girl in the whole world...but the only man who could ever do that was...he was already gone." Lane felt sobs once again intruding her voice.

Sniffles segued to tears, and tears to cries. And for a moment, the two of them just sat there, Sam full of sighs and Lane's eyes gushing salty streaks. Lane rubbed at her eyes with tiny fists, spreading soreness above her cheekbones. Her head throbbed, and her vocal cords ached.

But then, slowly, gradually, her wails lessened to gasps, and the erratic spasms of her lungs and throat seemed almost to flutter away. It was as if having Sam there was calming her, as if sharing with him as much as she had was somehow dulling the pain.

He reached between the two of them to grab her palm, grasping it firmly. He hadn't said a thing, hadn't spoken a word, but somehow Lane found the strength to raise her free hand from her lap and stroke her fingers through her hair, twisting it at its ends as she stared trustingly into Sam Irish's blue, blue eyes.

****

It wasn't until Friday that they got their taxonomy exams back, and Friday was a lab day. For once in her life, Lane actually felt confident about a science test, but GiGi was a bundle of nerves.

"I can't believe you're so freaked out about this, GiGi," Lane said to her as the two girls headed to the end of the hallway and prepared to ascend the stairs to the science lab. "I honestly felt pretty okay about that test. Who knows? I might've even made a B."

"Yeah, well, my mom's still going pretty hard on me. A bad grade's the last thing I need right now."

"Oh, come on, GiGi. You made the honor roll last nine weeks. I'm sure you did fine." Lane was still staring reassuringly at GiGi as she reached out to grab the stair rail, not noticing the metal's jagged edge—

"Lane, watch out!"

"OW—what the heck!" The moment she grasped, Lane drew her hand back and reeled with pain. She examined her right palm, a blot of blood seeping through the pierced flesh. "Oh my gosh, this school is so freaking jank. Like can they puh-lease fix this!?"

GiGi nodded in agreement. "Hasn't it been like a month since that emo ninth grader tried to burn a hole in this rail? I honestly can't believe they still haven't gotten somebody out here to replace it."

"I'm pretty sure it counts as reckless endangerment at this point," Lane huffed, retrieving a cafeteria napkin from her purse and wrapping her palm inside it.

The girls plodded up the stairs and through the set of double doors at the top, then headed left. They passed the library, and GiGi waved at Mrs. Portolini, the school's bookkeeper.

When they made it to the laboratory, Mrs. Alvin was already standing at the front handing out exams.

"Goode," Mrs. Alvin called out one of the students' last names. Seconds later, a lanky boy with ginger bangs slinked forward to claim his exam. He glanced quickly at his grade and smiled, then went back to his seat.

"What a nerd," Lane whispered to GiGi. "I bet he made like a hundred."

"Lane, be nice!" GiGi whispered back, then sighed. "I wish I made a hundred."

"GiGi, you did fine. Honestly—"

"Gravestepper," came Mrs. Alvin's voice.

GiGi stood up sheepishly, then slowly walked forward to get her test. She brought it back to her seat without even a sideways peek at her grade.

"Oh, will you stop being such a drama queen!?" Lane scream-whispered, snatching the paper from GiGi's hand and reading aloud her score. "You got a ninety-seven."

"I did!?" GiGi's face lit up. "Oh my gosh, yay!"

"Don't act so surprised," Lane said matter-of-factly. "We all saw it coming from a mile away."

Mrs. Alvin called out a few more names before she reached Lane's. "Martin," she finally said, then pushed her old-lady glasses back up her stubby nose.

Lane hopped up from her seat and sashayed to the front of the class to pick up her exam.

"I was very surprised, Lane," Mrs. Alvin said as she handed Lane the test. "Here I thought you were in the running to fail every test this semester. Though I suppose a sixty-four isn't much of an improvement."

Who does she think she is? Lane quirked an eyebrow and cocked back her neck. "Well, it would've been a lot easier if you were on the test, Mrs. Alvin. We all know your taxonomy: Kingdom Archaic."

Mrs. Alvin's jaw dropped, her face burning beet red as subdued chuckles sputtered out from Lane's classmates.

Lane smirked, looking Mrs. Alvin up and down. "Honestly, it's kind of sad. Floor-length dresses and thick-inch heels haven't been a thing since my grandma was in diapers. Pretty sure your birth certificate says 'Expired' and your midwife was a dinosaur." Lane scrunched her arms like a T-Rex to complete the joke.

What had been chuckles only moments before erupted uncontrollably into hysterical laughter, one boy in a blue-and-yellow jersey even falling from his lab bench. Lane smiled a triumphant smile, then unscrunched her arms and rested one on her right hip.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Mrs. Alvin screamed. "OUT! I WANT YOU OUT THIS INSTANT! PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, NOW!" She pointed to the door sharply with her index finger, anger quaking her frame as she scowled at Lane.

Lane laughed in her face, then looped her purse over her shoulder for dramatic effect before turning to exit the laboratory. She stepped out into the hallway and began prancing across the carpeted floor toward the stairs when she stopped mid-stride, a new idea popping to life inside her head.

Giggling at herself, she reached inside her purse and scrabbled for a piece of gum, swiftly grasping a square of minty delight between her fingers. She peeled back the paper and tossed the chewy stick of sugar inside her mouth, then sashayed on through the hallway.

My mom is gonna have a heart attack when Principal Rodley calls her, Lane thought to herself as she smacked on the gum. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she hears what I said to Mrs. Al—

"What's goin' on, pretty girl?"

Lane froze in her tracks, turning to stare at the flirty try-hard approaching her from behind.

"And you are?" Lane asked impatiently.

"Come on, babe. Don't do that. I know you've seen me before."

Lane's lips curled into an incredulous frown. "Nope, can't say that I have."

"Name's Jay. I play ball. You gotta've at least saw me at last Friday's game."

"Hate to break it to you, but there are way more interesting guys to watch on the team than you," Lane shot back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my mom's about to have a full-on meltdown, and I'd rather not miss it. Toodles." With a sneering look in her eyes, she waved, fluttering her fingers as if to sprinkle glitter, then turned to walk through the set of double doors overlooking the stairs.

Once she made it to the top of the staircase, Jay's hand caught her own. "Come on, babe. Don't be that way. I just wanna have a little fun."

Lane ripped her arm away from him and pushed him against the wall. "Get off me, you creep!"

Jay lunged from the wall and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him and thrusting her face into his chest. "Hey now," he breathed down at her. "Didn't your mama teach you to play nice?"

"No," Lane spat, a coy remark surging to the front of her brain, "but she taught me how to spot a dick when I see one!" Lane raised her knee and jammed it between his legs, in that place where no boy ever liked to be kicked.

Jay groaned, loosening his grip. Lane pulled herself free, then slapped him across the face. He stumbled away toward the stairs, and Lane swung her high-heeled foot into his hip, forcing him back and over the topmost step of the steep and winding well.

He fell headfirst and rolled, his back and shoulder blades cracking against the steps as he tumbled, toppling without recourse until finally the curve of the stairway and the momentum he'd built sent him flying toward the wall at the foot of the steps—and the jagged end of the railing that Lane knew all too well was out for fresh blood.

Jay's head struck the protruding metal, a loud clang reverberating through the air as the vibrating rod smashed through his right temple and bathed itself with liquid crimson. His arms and legs seemed at once to crumple, his body reduced to a motionless heap. Redness spurted from the side of his head, erupting across the fibers of his shirt and splashing against the steps in broad and lavish strokes. Dark red polka-dot-shaped droplets decorated the surrounding walls at the foot of the stairwell; it looked as though all of EdgeWay's kindergarteners had dipped their fingers in carmine paint and been let loose to smear a horrendous mural.

Lane stood above the stairs, her right hand ruining her lip gloss as she covered her mouth in shock. In the back of her throat, she could feel a scream building.

And before she knew it, she was crying bloody murder.