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"I think we should let Colton sit with us."

            Lots of pairs of eyes snapped up and met mine, and Chloe's green ones glared accusingly. It was lunchtime, and all of us—meaning the cheerleading team and the football team—were bent over our meals at the cafeteria table, immersed in our own worlds. I'd been the one to break the silence.

            "What did you just say?" Courtney asked, her eyes meeting mine over her leafy salad. I had no idea how that got her through until she got home; it was literally only sprouts and types of lettuce, and I knew I'd die of starvation by the time I got home.

            "I think we should invite Colton to sit with us for lunch," I replied, steadfast. My eyes stared unwaveringly into her blue ones.

            "Tell me you're not talking about Colton Cross," Cherry Stark replied, her hand gripping the plastic bottle of water in her hand tightly. Her bouncy brown curls fell around her face, and the cheerleading uniform clung to her body like a second skin. "I mean, he's hot, but come on, Vi. The guy's a freak."

            "He's not that bad," I defended, turning around to look at the guy in question. He sat by himself at his lunch table, earphones popped into his ears and looking thoroughly alone as he stared at his phone. "He's actually really nice if you get to know him."

            "Look, Violet," Chloe began, "I know that you're friends and that he's your nei—"

            I glared at her, and her lips slammed together. She was the only one who knew Colton and I lived next-door to each other, and, selfish as that sounded; I wanted it to stay that way. "I mean," she stammered, hurrying to correct herself. "I know you're lab partners, but come on. He hates us just as much as we dislike him."

            "He doesn't hate you guys," I replied, which wasn't technically a lie. I mean, I didn't think he hated them. At least, he'd never told me that directly.

            Chloe threw me a dubious look. "Oh, really?"

            I threw my hands up exasperatedly. "Come on, guys! The worst he can do is reject the offer! What's the harm in asking him?"

            Only blank stares met mine, and I sighed. It wasn't like I couldn't understand where they were coming from, but it was still shallow. Just because he was an outsider, didn't mean he should be forbidden to sit here.

            "Fine," I said frostily, standing up and grabbing my tray. "If you guys won't let him come, I'll go to him."

            I spun around and walked towards Colton, who sat alone at his table. I heard Chloe yell out after me, but ignored her.

            I stood before him, but he seemed not to notice. He was staring intently at the screen, which looked like a radio. He seemed transfixed by the frequency lines, and I frowned.

            "I know that it's a bit crowded over here, but do you mind if I sit down?" I asked nervously, praying he wouldn't reject me. How embarrassing would that be in front of all of my friends?

            Colton's head snapped up suddenly, his blue eyes guarded, before his face broke into a welcoming grin. He pulled out the ear buds and let out a loud laugh. "Hey, V." He gestured to the empty table. "If you can find the room to sit, sure."

            I sat next to him on top of the table, and laid my lunch tray carefully on my thighs. Whilst I had a few grapes, a carton of skim milk and two turkey, plum and carrot sandwiches, Colton had nothing. "Do you not eat?" I asked, gesturing to his empty lap.

            He put his phone away and turned to me, shaking his head. "I forgot lunch money. Looks like I'm flying foodless today."

            "Here," I said, opening the plastic box with the sandwiches and handing him a triangle. "Have some of mine."

            He looked at it warily, not wanting to take it. I could tell he was hungry, but still he held back. "No, that's okay."

            I gestured more forcefully, almost dumping the triangle into his hands. "Seriously, I haven't poisoned it. Just take it."

            He looked like he wanted to protest more, but apparently hunger won out, and he took the sandwich, smiling gratefully at me before taking a bite.

            With that one bite already a third of the triangle was gone, and I giggled. He had plum sauce stuck in the corner of his mouth, but he remained blissfully unaware. "Wait," I said, still giggling, and leaned over to wipe the sauce from his mouth.

            I held it up and then wiped it on the table, and Colton's face flushed. "Oh, whoops," he said, causing me to break out into laughter.

            I ended up sharing my food with him, including the remainder of the sandwiches, the grapes and even half the carton of milk. I could tell he hated accepting food from me, but I wasn't having any of it. It wasn't like he was conning me out of food, and it was one measly lunch in the grand scheme of things. It didn't worry me.

            Once we were done, I set the tray aside and just sat there. Colton fiddled with a large silver band on his thumb, before turning to me. "Can I ask you a question, V?"

            "Didn't you just ask me a question?" I replied sarcastically, smirking at him.

            He nudged me with his shoulder. "Smartass. But, seriously?"

            "Of course. You can ask me anything," I responded, staring at his handsome face.

            He stared down at his lap. "Why are you sitting with me? Last I checked you were hanging over with your cronies at the popular table. Why the sudden change of heart? Did the talk of prom and finals get too much for you?"

            "They're not the only people I hang out with," I replied. "And maybe I just wanted to hang out with you."

            "Why? Trust me, V. I'm not all that interesting."

            "I beg to differ," I responded simply, shrugging. "It's better than listening to the constant chatter of gold glitter and bubblegum lip-gloss."

            He laughed; a deep, throaty sound. "Can't say I argue with you there."

            "Why do you hang out here alone?" I asked curiously, even though it was probably none of my business. "I'm sure plenty of people would like you if you put yourself out there. Why not?"

            He shrugged. "I guess I just don't like company." At my frown, he hurried to correct his words. "I mean, I do. That came out wrong. It's just that..." He stopped and thought through his words. "I guess it's easier to just sit alone than to deal with the drama that comes with having friends. You don't get hurt that way."

            "I don't believe that," I said, staring at the linoleum ground. "I think it hurts more to sit here alone and never talk to someone. It seems awfully lonely. Plus, people don't hurt you unless you let them. You have a choice on whether you're going to let these people hurt you, or not. You can listen to the crap, or learn to tune it out and focus on what really matters—your happiness. Not theirs."

            "I haven't thought about it like that," he answered, pursing his lips. "But what if your happiness depends on the happiness of others?"

            "Then that's no way to live," I replied, staring up at him. "You shouldn't have to live on the happiness of others. In ten years you won't know those people. In the end, you don't have to talk to these people ever again. But you're stuck with you. Maybe it sounds selfish, but I'd rather live on my happiness than thrive because of others."

            "It's not selfish," he answered slowly.

            I stood up as the bell rang overhead, and smiled back at him. "Don't live for others, Colton. You'll have a lot of friends, but there's only ever going to be one you. So make the most of it. Because one day we'll all cease to exist, and I'd rather be known for smiling than for sacrificing my life in the name of others."

            I didn't look back at him as I weaved my way through the lunch crowd and toward my next class.

            Nor did I look at the friends who had suddenly seemed to grow a lot more shallow than I'd ever viewed them before.

            ~          *          ~

            That night, I bent over my calculus book and quickly filled in the homework answers, my pencil scribbling over the white page and filling in the computations. Though calculus wasn't my best subject, it was at least manageable, and I filled it out quickly, glad Mrs. Roche had given us a simple homework task.

            The air outside was warm, meriting only a pair of frayed white denim shorts and a lacy black shirt. My hair was tied back into a side chignon, leaving only a few wisps to hang about my face. The tiles of the roof dug uncomfortably into my back, but I was so used to it now that I barely noticed.

            "Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Violet Rose," a voice said suddenly behind me, and I jumped, shocked out of my studying stupor. I looked up to see the Black Phoenix standing above me, his plump lips turned up into a smirk.

            I slowly closed my calc book and put it beside me. "Hey, Mystery Man. How's things?"

            "Oh, you know. The usual. I was looking for you yesterday."

            "Yeah, sorry. I was at the town's meeting. I got your poem, though. Classy as always."

            He grinned as he sat down. "Ha. Right. I'm your regular poet, I know."

            "What did you need to talk to me about that was so urgent?" I asked curiously, wrapping my arms around my knees and turning to look at him.

            He sighed. "I might be overreacting, but I have good reason to think that some bad people are in town."

            I frowned. "Bad people?"

            "Yeah. There was a man that was after my dad. I think he's just resurfaced back in town. But he's being careful about it. I just wanted to warn you in case... in case something happens."

            "Like what?"

            He shrugged. "I don't know. But this man is dangerous, Violet. Really, really dangerous. I know what he wants, but not where he is or who else is with him."

            "What is it, exactly, that he wants?"

            I couldn't understand why The Black Phoenix, someone with so many extraordinary superpowers, would be afraid of someone of such lower caliber. I mean, what could this guy possibly do?

            He looked down, his eyes skimming the roof tiles. "He wants me. And believe me, Violet, with the right means, he can get me, too."

            "Is there something I can do?" I asked, horrified. I had no idea what this mysterious man could do, but he did not sound like someone you wanted to mess around with. If there was something I could do to help him, then I'd do it in a heartbeat.

            He shook his head. "No. All I want you to do is to be careful. Watch out for anybody suspicious. Be careful who you trust, don't talk to strangers. Things like that."

            I bit my lip gingerly. "There must be something else I can do! I can talk to some people, get others looking around. Do research on whoever this guy is. Help you search for this man. There has to be something."

            "I want you as far away from him as possible," he replied, shaking his head vigorously. "He's dangerous, and I won't put you in harm's way like that. Not with someone like this man."

            "I'm not some fragile doll," I snapped briskly. I hated feeling like a child. "I'm not that easy to break. I can help you. Please, let me do this."

            "Violet, it's dangerous."

            "So?" I cried, throwing my hands up exasperatedly. "Look, you saved my life. I owe you something in return. Let me do this for you. Let me help you." I stared into his eyes earnestly. "Please."

            He looked down. "Fine. If you really wanna help, I guess you can do research. But if I feel like you're getting in too deep, I'm pulling you out. And you're not to protest, okay? If I'm doing it, it means that I'm worried that I can't protect you, and, believe me, that's saying something, because I'd protect you from a lot."

            Something about his words sent a chill running down my spine. I slapped my hands on my knees. "What do you need help with, Mystery Man?"

            "I need you to research a company for me," he replied, tracing the edge of a roof-tile with his gloved index finger. "The name is Geneva Biochemistry Lab. Look for a man named Nathaniel LeRuggia. If it turns up any results, let me know."

            "I don't have any number to call you on," I said.

            "Don't worry. I'll drop by."

            "Wait!" I called out as he stood.

            He turned, his shoulders hardening. "Yeah?"

            I smoothed some of the flyaway hairs nervously and swallowed. "Why a biochemistry lab? I mean what has this Nathaniel guy got to do with anything?"

            "My dad created the serum that made me like this," he replied, shrugging. "And Geneva wanted to make some kind of superhuman army with it. Instead, Dad dosed me up and destroyed the evidence. Now Nathaniel's trying to get his hands on the only remains left of the serum. Me."

            I frowned. "That's... oddly cliché."

            He shrugged. "Not every thought's an original one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I can hear a holdup at a convenience store three blocks away. Duty calls."

            "Okay," I murmured, watching him as he stood precariously on the edge of my roof.

He turned around slowly. "Remember, Violet. Be careful."

            I nodded and watched as he stepped off the building and floated into the air, almost as if pulled by an angelic force.

            Watching someone fly is unlike anything you could ever imagine. It's not like the movies, and it's totally bizarre and surreal. It doesn't look like it should even be happening. It doesn't look possible.

            But I guess a lot of things The Black Phoenix does is impossible.

            That's just who he is.

            ~          *          ~

            The next morning, I sat in the newspaper office, my eyes scanning articles published about the Geneva Lab.

            Something he had neglected to mention was that Geneva was a worldwide organization of biochemistry labs, and sorting through the sheer number of branches was a task I'd rather never repeat. Finally, I called on the New York and Chicago branches. I still didn't know if the masked man had even come from Chicago, but since, oddly enough, the story Chloe told me and his versions seemed to correspond,  I was pulling on both sources for this one.

            I hadn't had much sleep last night, having tossed and turned as I thought about who this Nathaniel man might be, so the words seemed to fuzz around the computer screen making it hard to concentrate. Even the soy latte in my hand was failing to keep me up.

            I had just opened an article published around ten years ago about Geneva when Chloe walked in, and she looked surprised to see me. Her eyebrows shot up, and she took a sip out of the metal thermos in her hand. "Hey, Vi. Why are you here so early?"

            I shrugged. "Had some research to do."

            "Is that for your article?"

            I tilted my head to the side inquisitively. "What article?"

            She rolled her eyes and sat in the computer chair, dumping her khaki tote by her legs. "Ha ha. Funny."

            "Seriously, Chlo," I replied uncomprehendingly. "What article?"

            She frowned and pushed her red bangs out of her eyes. "You know, for the school newspaper? The one you work on? The reason you  have access to that computer?"

            I smacked my forehead. In the flurry of everything lately, I'd forgotten all about the fact I still had articles to write for the school's newspaper. "Oh, crap. I totally forgot."

            "Well, you better think something up quick," Chloe said, booting up her computer and logging on. "It's due to Keeley by three this afternoon for editing over the weekend and publishing on Monday."

            "What are you doing your article on?" I asked hurriedly, hoping for ideas. Whilst Keeley, the editor of the magazine, was a sweet girl, if you were late for her precious newspaper, you should expect to be skinned alive.

            She rolled her eyes. "Seemed I ran dry on subjects. Had to do it on the freaking football team's upcoming year for victory." She snorted. "God, like anybody cares."

            I laughed, even though it felt faint. She had not helped at all in the inspiration department, and I was still stuck for ideas. Then something occurred to me. "Hey, why are you here today? It's Friday. Wasn't your dad taking you out of school?"

            She nodded. "He's picking me up at twelve. Had some errands to run at the office beforehand, though."

            I nodded and turned back to the screen, where the Geneva article still blinked at me. "Hey, Chloe, you don't mind if I call in a favor with Dave do you?"

            "My Dave?" she replied, frowning. "Editor of Hearst High Dave? Why?"

            I ran a hand through my hair. "I have an idea for an article, but he's always been better at investigating than me. Thought he might be able to dig up something."

            She came over to my computer and bent down, scanning the article quickly, her green eyes darting back and forth. "Biochemistry? That's a little deep for a high school paper, don't you think?"

            "It's important," I promised her, giving her the puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Chlo."

            She sighed. "Fine, call him. He's not much of a conversationalist, but he should be able to help."

            I thanked her and turned to the phone, grabbing his number form Chloe before dialing it. He picked up after three rings, sounding distracted. "Yo, it's Dave."

            "Dave, hi, it's Violet from Sterling High. I was wondering if you could help me," I said nervously. I hadn't spoken to Dave in a while, and I wasn't even sure if he remembered who I was. Awkward.

            "Chloe's friend?" he checked, and I heard a bang in the background, before a muttered curse.

            "Uh, yeah," I replied slowly, feeling tension permeate the air.

            "Sure. What can I do for you, Violet?" he asked, and I felt mildly relieved he hadn't turned me down stone cold. He was an excellent detective, and I needed his help.

            "I'm looking to dig up some dirt on this man, Nathaniel LeRuggia. He's a biochemist at Geneva Labs," I told him.

            There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, and I wondered if the line had somehow dropped. But a moment later, Dave spoke. "Why are you looking into a biochemist? That's a little heavy. Is this for a college paper, or something?"

            "Something like that," I said.

            "What are you after? Like, information on this man, his work; what are you looking for?" Dave questioned, and I smiled slightly, glad he wasn't pursuing the topic.

            "I'm not sure," I answered with a cringe. "Just anything that raises a red flag. Any strange things in his work, any weird articles or reports, any sudden changes in his life; things like that."

            "So you're looking for anything suspicious," Dave finished off, catching on.

            I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah."

            "May I ask why? Do you know this man?"

            "I've heard some rumors," I said vaguely. "I just wanna make sure everything's going okay."

            "All right, I'm not too busy, so I'll do some research now," Dave said, and I heard the sound of a keyboard in the background. "I'll email you any strange results tomorrow, all right?"

            "Sounds perfect. Thanks, Dave. You're a lifesaver," I said, glad for his help. He'd find more stuff than I could ever dream of, and I knew he'd do a thorough job. An occupation in law enforcement awaited him; I could already tell.

            Once I clicked off, Chloe turned to me from where she was typing something into her computer. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what biochemistry has to do with anything?"

            "You really don't wanna know," I replied, shaking my head and turning back to my computer. I closed down the browser. Now that Dave was on Nathaniel's trail, there was no use me digging up. I wouldn't find half the things Dave could, so there was really no use trying.

            "Fine, don't tell me," Chloe sing-songed. "But if you wanna make it to actually finding out that information, you might wanna get started on the article. It's due in seven hours, and you still don't know what you're gonna do."

            I sighed and rubbed my temple, but no matter what, I couldn't think of a topic to write about. Oh, God, Keeley was going to murder me. Nice and slowly, too. There'd probably be a lot of sharp weapons and blood involved. This was like refusing to feed her child. I was a dead, dead girl.

            Just then, the idea came to my head, and my eyes widened comically. Of course! That was something I could write about! Unique and meaningful; something that would actually hold content worth something! Why hadn't I thought of this earlier?

            I pulled up a new document and started writing, my fingers flying over the keyboard excitedly in my haste to get the words onto the page. I could only hope Keeley would accept it and put it in the newspaper. I texted Oscar, my photographer, and asked him to get a picture for it. Now all that was left to do was wait and hope for the best.

            As the bell rang overhead, I quickly saved the work and logged off, hurrying to classes. The day passed in a blur, and I struggled to write down all the notes and stay focused.

            After school, I stayed back late, having only fifteen minutes to get this to Keeley before she stalked down to the newspaper office and killed me herself. She was extremely OCD when it came to timing, so any later than three was a no-no for her.

I checked my emails and was gratified to see one from Oscar. He had found a suitable picture that suited the article, and I smiled as I attached it to the document. I edited the exposé one last time to make sure it was good, before sending it off to Keeley with four minutes left to spare.

            I sat back in the seat, relieved, and rubbed my tired eyes. I hadn't done much today, but my sleepless night was catching up on me.

            I left the newspaper office before I had the chance to sleep, hoping to get home and have a nice, luxurious nap before my parents came home. I collected my stuff and turned off the computers and lights, before making my way out of the school. It was fairly deserted at this time, with only the lacrosse team practicing on the soccer fields and a few janitors mopping the floors.

            I made it outside, and started towards my car, which sat deserted in the lot. I sifted around for my keys in my bag, and, as my fingers came into contact with the metal, a strong hand clamped onto my upper arm, holding me in place.

            My jaw slacked, and, as I spun around, I gasped.

~      *     ~

I know that it's been a long wait, but thank you for your patience and support.

Truth is, I've had terrible writer's block on this book, and it got put on the backburner for six months while I focused on other stories.

However this one seems to get so much love and attention from you guys, and so I'm going to try and make a bigger effort to write more - even if it kills me. You guys deserve it!

Please leave a vote and comment so I can see how much you guys want faster updates and more chapters - it really does help me to know how big of a priority writing this book should be to me.

Thanks!