TRIGGER WARNING:

Discussion of SELF-HARM

SUICIDAL IDEATION

---

Foreword and Acknowledgements

This story serves as the culmination of my NIS works, wrapping the characters up and sending them on their way. It also serves as a culmination of my frustration with the limitations of the traditional NIS structure. I'm not sure how many NIS stories are told from third-person-limited as opposed to first-person, but I know it's not many. Meredith and Derek  was already leading me in this direction—a more varied narration, switching to and from different points of view as needed—and in some ways this is merely an extension of what started there. Being able to follow characters around the plot without having tons of short mini-chapters, or for that matter without them being one of the title characters, also allowed for more fluid storytelling. That said, I kind of went for broke on it, occasionally switching between narrators from paragraph to paragraph or even sentence to sentence. (I'd seen Frank Herbert do it and wanted to give it a try.) It also had the (unexpected) side effect of making the story shorter: without the needs of establishing a narrative voice for any given character, I was free to be more terse. I think I like it better overall, but something is definitely lost when shifting from first-person to third-.

---

Prologue - T.3

Meredith drew a deep breath. They were probably the hardest words she'd ever have to say. "Brandon... We need to talk." And that  was saying something, considering that some point in the next half hour she'd probably have to tell him that she couldn't marry him.

Brandon looked at her, his face expressionless. "Yeah," he said. "I guess we do."

"I... I think we learned a lot about each other, a few weeks ago," Meredith said, the words spilling out in slow motion. "When I was in The Program."

"Yeah," he said. "For instance, we both found out a lot about each other's family." A flash of a smile, neither warm nor humorous. "On the whole, I'd have to say I like yours better."

She did too, but that was beside the point. "Brandon, for the past few weeks you've been... Inaccessible, really. I mean, we... We talk, we hang out, we even have sex, but... Sometimes I'm not sure you're really paying attention to any of it."

"Well, for that matter, you haven't been very present either." The control of his tone wasn't enough to conceal the anger beneath them. She heard that anger very often these days. It was beginning to grow uncomfortable. " I  try to talk to you  and you're out on the moon somewhere."

It was the truth. "I know," she said, "I've just... I'm sorry. I've been so... So busy, and..." That wasn't  the truth, unless by 'busy' one meant 'consumed with guilt over sending one's brother to jail,' but really, Brandon didn't need to know that. He hadn't understood then and he didn't understand now.

For a moment she thought his anger might get the better of him; but it receded. "It's okay," he said. "I know you're busy. It hasn't been an easy few weeks for us."

"No," she said. She felt the fragility of the world under her. "It hasn't."

There was silence for a moment. He studied her face. She drew breath and tried not to let fear take over her heart.

"So, what did you want to talk about," he said finally.

How could he not see it! "Brandon, I... You've been busy, I've been busy, we haven't... We haven't talked in forever . We talk even less than we have sex."

He gave a wry smile. "Now that's  saying something." His attitude shifted: "Not like we have sex all that often anymore. What, twice since your birthday? You know," his tone turning reflective, "I actually jacked off the other day. And I thought, What a weird relationship if I do that when I have other options."

"I know, I miss it too," she said to placate him. It wasn't a lie, exactly, the truth was just complicated. "And we're always so distracted by everything... I remember sitting here at lunch—on Thursday, remember, when Arie was talking about Rebekah DeMarne—thinking, This is when Brandon normally leans over and says something to me, and, you didn't, and, it was so bad."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I must've been thinking of something else. I was writing an essay a week ago and it was something you would've liked, and I wished you were there—"

Suddenly she saw just how empty the conversation had gotten, how much they were simply shoving things out to appease each other. Talking, but not saying anything. "Brandon, I'm scared I'm going to lose you," she blurted.

He said nothing.

"It's June," she said. "School's ending soon. In three weeks I'm going away and I won't be back until August. I want to make sure everything's okay by then."

"Oh, it'll... It'll be fine," he said.

She stared at him. "You seriously think that?"

He shrugged. "Yes." That wasn't the truth. In point of fact, he just hadn't thought about it much. So she was going away for most of the summer, to some music camp. She'd done it every year. What was it going to be like without her? He had simply no idea at all, so what was the point of wondering?

And yet something niggled in the back of his head: that he already knew. That losing her for the summer would be no different than now. After all, did he really have her now?

"I don't," she murmured. "I'm going away for three months and I want to be sure you'll still be here when I get back."

He was shocked to realize she was crying. He knew it was his fault. Guilt bubbled up in him: that wasn't what a boyfriend was supposed to do.

"Then... Then let's talk," he said. He reached out to her, but hesitated; his hand brushed her shoulder. They had flown so far into space in the past few weeks that he couldn't even be sure she would like him to touch her. And how lucky he was, that she'd given him the excuse he needed to change his mind. A fresh wave of affection crested over him: How lucky was he, to be near such a clever girl? "Let's talk, Meredith, and let's work this out. I still wanna be here when you get back too."

"Okay," she said, wiping her eyes. Her eyes were the penetrating gray that had never failed to make him melt. "Okay. Let's talk."

"Let's talk." Impulsively he reached out and took her hands in his own; she let him, and she smiled.

"Brandon..." she said.

"Brandon I need your help like right about now," Sajel blurted.

They blinked at her.

"It's Jane," said Sajel, oblivious to the moment she had just interrupted. "She's in the bathroom and she won't come out."

"Well, as long as she comes out within five minutes, she won't be breaking any rules," Brandon said.

"Brandon, she's sobbing, she's hysterical in there," Sajel said.

"Oh, Christ," Brandon said, "I'd better go help her, where is she?" It was only after he'd taken three steps that he remembered the hands he'd dropped.

Meredith looked at him sadly.

"I'll... I'll be back," he said.

Her eyes were huge.

"I promise," he said, his words sounding dim and false to his own ears.

"I know," she whispered.

Sajel looked back and forth at them, finally noticing that she might have interrupted something.

Meredith's eyes closed and her mouth moved in ways that Brandon, too far away, couldn't understand. Sajel, who was closer, saw: I love you.

"Where is she, Saje," Brandon asked. "We'd better hurry."

Sajel led him away. Meredith sighed.

It would be a long, confusing summer.

 

---

 

Sajel went in first to clear out the bathroom's occupants—which was wise; Brandon thought they might object to him coming in. It was, after all, the girls' bathroom. They were all aware of the hitching, unhappy sounds coming from the largest toilet stall, though, and when they saw him they understood that he was here to do something about it. If he could.

"Congratulations, Brandon," Sajel said, struggling for humor. "You are about to enter a place where few men have gone before."

"Yeah, but not all the way," Brandon grumbled, remembering how many times Arie and Derek had locked themselves in this exact restroom and not let anyone else in.

Inside was tile and toilets. It didn't look all that different, except for the lack of urinals and the sanitary-napkin dispenser on the wall, and there was the sharp smell of piss in the air, which surprised him; he'd figured women would be tidier than that. How exactly did one miss while sitting down? He decided he had uncovered one of the world's unsolved mysteries.

There were wretched noises coming from the largest stall. He prayed she hadn't locked the door. He might have to crawl in otherwise.

The door swung open under his touch.

She was curled up in the corner, her face wet with tears, twisted with fear. He understood the smell of urine immediately: she was in a puddle of it. She must be getting cold.

For a moment he only stood there. Jane Myers, in The Program. It was the second time he had seen her naked in his life. Somehow, in the weeks following Meredith's birthday party, Dr. Zelvetti had convinced her to sign up; and not five days later she'd called Jane's name. Brandon had been pretty sure this was a bad idea—five days? But he hadn't expected it to be this  bad. It was recess on Tuesday morning. And Jane was a wreck.

"Jane?" he said. "Jane? It's me. Brandon."

Her mouth opened, wobbled, formed silent words. Somewhere in the torrent of movement he heard: "Brandon don't touch me."

What had happened to her? He hadn't seen her at all, for the most part, since Monday morning, when she'd first come out into the world, bare as the day she was born. He'd heard traces of whispers, of rumors, of something involving Rule Three, but surely that wasn't what had gotten to her. ...Was it?

"Jane, you have to leave," he said. "The bell's gonna ring soon. You're... You're gonna get in trouble."

Another rushing whisper: "Brandon don't touch me."

What was going on here? "Who's been touching you, Jane?" He stepped closer. "Who's been touching you?"

She shivered and was silent.

He'd never seen her incoherent like this. ...Well, he'd never seen anyone  incoherent like this. He didn't know what to do. But he needed to break her out of her fugue.

There was one way he knew would work. Of course, it might backfire too. And the rising panic in his mind made it hard to think. This was Jane, and he wanted to help her. He couldn't just leave her here. But what should he do? What the heck should he do? He wasn't trained for things like this!

Oh, Lord,  he thought, how did I  get into this? Who put me  in this situation?

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She yelped and twisted, but he kept his hand there, following her; and gradually she became used to it, as he had hoped she might. It was like dealing with a cat.

"Jane?" he said again, when he thought she was calmer. "What's been going on?"

Her eyes, still lit with sparks of panic, focused on his for the first time.

"Everyone's been touching me," she said.

"Rule Three," he said.

"They wouldn't stop," she said. "And... Ugh." She shuddered.

Brandon felt anger rise in him, and disgust. What kind of person kept fondling a girl when she made it clear she didn't like it?

It never occurred to him to question that statement.

"And they wouldn't... And they wouldn't..." Her eyes flicked in all directions, and he could see that her lucidity had been only temporary.

"Come on," he said. "We're getting you out of here. Up you go. Up. Up!"

"Gaa! Nodonwannago donwannago!"

"It's okay Jane it's okay it's okay. It's okay. Come on now. You'll be safe. We'll get you away from the bad men and you'll be safe." As much as any of us are.

"No. Donwannago."

"It'll be over soon. Come on."

She wouldn't go. He had to carry her.

Sajel watched them pass, and wondered what cataclysm she had just seen in the lives of her friends. Meredith and Brandon had been on rocky terms for weeks now—what had she just interrupted? But who else could help Jane? Why hadn't she asked Meredith to come along? And now where was Jane headed? Everyone knew about the nervous breakdowns, but no one had expected to see  one.

"I miss the days when life wasn't complicated," she said.

Brandon heard her. Welcome to high school,  he thought.

It was late August before Jane was out of the hospital.

---

M.1

When Brandon heard the announcement he went straight to Dr. Zelvetti's office. He managed to reach it before most of the other participants did. He was glad of that—it meant he'd have room to move. The less people around for this, the better.

"Ah, Brandon," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Come to join us in a little outreach?"

Brandon paused at that one. Come to think of it, that might help. But... "That's not why I'm here, Dr. Z."

"Really?" said Dr. Zelvetti pleasantly. She settled back in her chair, an expression of interest on her face. "So what does  bring you here?"

"Jane," Brandon said.

Dr. Zelvetti looked around her office. At the moment, only two freshman and a junior were present. Even so, the office already felt comfortably populated. It was only meant to hold eight people at most; cramming sixteen in, plus Dr. Zelvetti herself, would be worse. Most importantly, however: "Well, I don't see her here, Brandon, but you're absolutely welcome to speak to her after she's undressed."

"See, that's just it," Brandon said. He ran a hand through his light brown hair. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Whyever not?" Dr. Zelvetti asked with admirable concern. Her hair had run to a greyish white and her face was streaked with lines and age marks, but she could still make a first-rate facade if she wanted to. "Only a year ago, Brandon, you would have been pleased to see her in The Program."

Brandon suppressed anger. "That's not particularly fair, Dr. Z."

"Doesn't make it less true," she shrugged.

"Yes, I would have," Brandon said. "Yes, I would've been thrilled to see Jane naked in school. I would have been wrong to feel that way. And I might not've admitted that back then, but I would've known it."

The other students watched with unfeigned interest. Brandon Chambers was a bit of a public figure around Mount Hill High School: it had been he who, just over a year ago (thirteen months to exact) had been one of the first eight students at Mount Hill High to participate in The Program. Even more, he had been paired with that insane lady Arie Chang—the one with the mysterious scars on her arms—and had gotten together with girlfriend, Meredith Levine, during that week. It was nearly impossible not to have heard of him. Gossip about him was even better.

"Why would it have been wrong," Dr. Zelvetti asked him.

Brandon frowned. That was a good question, and it was going to take some careful answering. "Because," he said finally. "Because, regardless of what's good for Jane, it would've been wrong. I know she's sexually repressed, I know she's far too uptight about it, I know it's probably going to do her damage in the future. Whoever she marries might just divorce her when he finds out about her sexual attitudes." Which were pretty simple—no sex before marriage. Obviously her husband, whoever he might turn out to be, would hardly have a problem with that, but Brandon didn't want to bet on who would win the first time that husband suggested oral sex. "But it's still her life. It's still her choice. If that's who she wants to be, then it's not our place to force her to be otherwise, no matter how bad a choice we think she's making."

"Very wise, Brandon," said Dr. Zelvetti, nodding. "Very mature."

"So you'll take her out of The Program," Brandon asked.

"No."

"But why not? You just admitted it isn't smart to force her to do something against her will."

"But you forget, Brandon," Dr. Zelvetti said. "I didn't force her to sign up. Her parents didn't sign her up. She  signed up, of her own free will. She voluntarily consented to be put into a federally-sponsored program encouraging sexual education. And, as you've said, her education in that area is very  lacking, A's in Health class notwithstanding. I felt, as her principal, that it would be in her best interests to second her interest in The Program and enlist her in it."

"But you did that last  year, and she had to go to the hospital," said Brandon. "She just got out in August. She had a fucking nervous breakdown ." The other students gasped at the F-bomb in front of the principal, but Brandon didn't flinch. And neither did Dr. Zelvetti.

"In that way my course of action was merely confirmed," she said. "You know the rules as well as I do, Brandon. If a participant fails to complete their Program week, they must do it again. And again, if necessary. And again. Until they have completed it to the school's satisfaction."

Brandon stifled a resurgence of anger. It was far too close to the surface these days. "I've never liked that rule. What if people just aren't ready? What if they just aren't capable? We're not talking a normal, healthy sexual life, Dr. Zelvetti, we're talking about forced exposure, in high school—never the friendliest of places—and with a certain amount of coercion involved, especially concerning Rule Three. The participant is forced— forced —to confront his or her sexuality, whether they are ready or not. And it may just be possible that certain participants are not  ready." He couldn't keep sarcasm from his voice on that one.

"Then they shouldn't've signed up," said Dr. Zelvetti with feigned carelessness.

"That's fair," Brandon said. "That's very fair. Anyone who happens to misjudge themselves gets chopped up in the meat grinder. Yes, Dr. Z, that sounds like a very  good way to run a school. Shove them into the brick wall whether they want it or not."

"So that they can grow," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Were you  ready, Brandon? But you persevered. You flourished. 'That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.' "

"And what if it kills her," Brandon challenged.

"It won't," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Jane is very strong, Brandon. Stronger than you know. Stronger, perhaps, than she knows. She is going through it, and that's final. And now some of the other participants are arriving, so unless you'd like to join us, I must ask you to leave."

"Brandon?" said a voice behind him. It was Jane—the same Jane as always: slumped shoulders, hazel eyes, a mass of clean but untended hair in honey and amber. "What are you  doing here? You're not my partner, are you?"

"No, actually," said Dr. Zelvetti, "Brandon was just here to argue your case."

Jane's face closed in its second-most-common expression: anger. "What, to keep me in?"

"No, to keep you out," said Dr. Zelvetti. This startled Jane so much that she didn't know how to respond. Brandon saw it, and sighed. Clearly she still had a lot to learn.

He left the office.

Many of his friends were waiting for him outside the Homer building, the school's administrative wing. There was Zach Crane, his best friend, in a buzz cut and perpetual grin, trading banter with Christa Sternbacher, his girlfriend. She was wearing her favorite bright orange jacket, and her dyed blonde hair was beginning to show its brown roots. Sajel Malhotra, his other best friend, was with the two of them, a wicked grin lighting her features. As he watched, she slung her river of black hair over her shoulder with a practiced toss of her head. Arie Chang, the mysterious girl with the mysterious scars, was chatting with Derek Strong, her boyfriend (likewise picked up during their Program week over a year ago); her Chinese heritage showed in the shape of her face, the tilt of her eyes. And even Jeff and Stasya were there. Stasya, with her reddish hair and slight traces of Russian in her voice, was Meredith's best friend. And Jeff, quiet, with aristocratic features and a calm, spectacled gaze... Well, no one quite knew about him, but he was fun to have around.

Only Meredith was missing. Meredith, whom Brandon hadn't seen since the beginning of summer vacation, for reasons he didn't quite understand.

"How did it go," Christa asked as he came down the stairs.

"Bad," he said. "She won't take her out of The Program."

"That sounds like a dumb idea to me," Arie observed.

"This is  the same Jane Myers we're talking about, right," Sajel asked. "What if it's a different girl with the same name?" She was joking—Sajel was rarely serious—but something about her tone suggested she meant what she was saying.

Brandon ticked off on his fingers. "Ex-girlfriend? Yup. Girl who was tighter than a bank vault about sex? Yup. Girl who asked me why anyone would actually want to masturbate? Yup. I saw her with my own very two eyes."

"Why 'very two eyes'?" asked Jeff. "Do you sometimes have three eyes?"

"Well, if you count only the one Meredith sees," Arie said. "The one on his trouser snake?"

Sajel snorted. "Terrible joke. Minus three respect points, Arie."

"I bet he'd like  to see Jane with that  eye," Zach said, grinning.

"Can we not get into that, please," Brandon said, mopping his face with his hands. There were times he appreciated his friends' banter. And there were times when he simply didn't want to deal with it. Now happened to be one of those times.

"How do  you feel about Jane, Brandon," Christa asked him. "I mean, you spent a lot of the summer with her, so it's probably safe to say you care about her."

"Yeah, as opposed to with his girlfriend ," Derek said.

"Hey, none  of us spent time with his girlfriend," Stasya said. "Meredith was away at band camp for most of the summer."

"Yeah," Zach said. "Great. 'This one time, at band camp...' "

"Even lamer joke," Sajel said. "Minus four points to Zach."

"Bad grammar," Zach retorted. "Lose a grade on your next English paper. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200."

"I missed out on two hundred dollars?" Sajel exclaimed. "Minus twenty respect points Zach!!"

"She was  actually at band camp," Stasya said, attempting vainly to bring the conversation back on track.

"Maybe something wild and wacky happened there," Zach said. " 'What happens at band camp, stays  at band camp.' "

"Minus five points," Sajel snorted. "And down another six if he makes another stupid quote in the next two minutes."

"Hey, I'm not saying he had an alternative," Derek said. "I'm just saying it could look bad."

"It could, at that," Arie said.

"So, Brandon." Derek turned to him. "Let's have the straight line. What is it between you and Jane?"

Brandon was silent for many moments.

"I... Well, I care about her, obviously," he said. "And... I consider her a friend. And you worry about your friends. I mean, you  all came to visit her in the hospital."

"Yeah, but not four days of seven," said Derek.

"Do you still care for her?" Christa asked. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

Brandon didn't answer, and that was all the answer they needed.

"So, what are you going to do?" Derek asked.

"About what?"

"About Meredith," Derek said. "We've been in school for four weeks and the two of you have barely exchanged five words together. And this is with  the two of you in half your classes together. If you don't do something, you're going to lose her. So get your ass in gear, man."

"Now," Sajel said.

"Preferably yesterday," Jeff said.

Brandon said nothing. They were, of course, totally right. But the question was... What should he do? ...If anything at all? Things with Meredith were so weird  now. Sure, she was a better match for him than Jane, but at least Jane hadn't been actively avoiding him all these...

He was shaken from his musings by a flurry of commentary. He turned to see the first Program participants coming down the stairs.

And there was Jane.

Her Program partner was Scott Pleins, which Brandon was glad to see: he was a smart, intelligent guy, and he'd do well by her. And Jane didn't have the reputation Brandon did; everyone saw her as a smart, by-the-books student, straight A's and very traditional—Girl Scouts, church choirs, that sort of thing. Interest in her was casual but not malicious.

Of course, everyone knew she'd been Mount Hill's first Program participant to have a breakdown. And that  brought attention. But it was, again, not malicious: everyone wanted to see, but no one wanted to touch. It was, noted a corner of Brandon's mind, the old stigma against any sort of mental problem—stay away, don't touch, it might be contagious. Gather around, view, see. Pay five bucks to see the schizophrenic man. She might as well be a circus sideshow.

They were scared of her, was the simple fact, because they couldn't understand her. And that, Brandon reflected, was just as well. Though being misunderstood could bring its own brand of trouble.

"You know," Christa said quietly. "I never believed she'd really do it until right now."

"Who," Zach asked. "Jane or Dr. Z.?"

"Dr. Z. ...But maybe Jane too."

Jane looked distinctly unhappy, but that was to be expected from a girl who had never worn a two-piece bathing suit before. She looked about the same as Brandon remembered: an expanse of pale skin, surprisingly wide hips and large breasts... But then, Jane had never dressed to impress. He remembered the surprise others had expressed at her physical assets. They had looked at him to solve the puzzle. As if he  had known.

Jane looked unhappy but not mortified, which was a step up from the last time. She had signed up for The Program in late May and been rushed into participation the very next week. The entire two days before her breakdown she had worn an expression of shell-shocked confusion, like someone suddenly yanked into a bad drug trip: surely this must end, surely this must end . Well, it had ended, but now, it seemed, it was beginning again.

A few people crowded around to take advantage of Rule Three, the infamous "Reasonable Request" rule. Program participants were considered living, breathing examples of human sexuality, and any student who wished—within reason—to examine such a specimen, must be accommodated. This generally led to a certain amount of low-level fondling, with more intense contact limited to the participant's discretion, as he or she might or might consider it "reasonable." It also seemed to depend on the day: participants and bystanders alike seemed to get more and more adventurous as the week wore on, as time passed and everyone got more comfortable with sexuality. Right now it was Monday morning, so the requests were limited—a few people touched Jane's breasts as she walked by. Even this relatively impersonal attention bent Jane's face in displeasure, and Brandon sighed to himself. This might be a long, bad week.

Jane saw them and descended to them immediately. Scott Pleins went to meet his own friends. This was probably against Program policy, but then Program policy was evolving. All Program participants were issued a 'partner,' a fellow participant (generally of the opposite sex) who would act as their moral and mental support over the week. Obviously one's friend was one's best partner, but not all participants managed to bring a friend in with them. In such times, Dr. Z. would pair strangers together, as she had to, with two possible outcomes in mind: either the two partners would become  friends over the course of the week, or they would simply ignore each other and rely on their existing friends. This case was obviously one of the latter: Scott Pleins was known to have a very close-knit group of friends, and Brandon knew his friends would accept Jane.

"Hey," Christa said, greeting Jane with a smile. "Second time's the charm, right?"

"Isn't it 'third time'?" Jane asked.

"No, it's whatever the hell number we feel like," Zach said, grinning. "Be happy she didn't say 'fourth' or 'fifth.' "

Jane frowned. "God forbid. What if I do  have to do this five times?"

"I doubt it'll happen," said Derek. "If it gets that bad, Dr. Z. will pull you out of The Program. She's not stupid."

"She sure seems  like it," Jane grumbled. "I already did this once, and I hated  it. And now she's making me do it again."

"Why'd you hate it," Zach asked.

"Well, because," said Jane, and paused. "Because it's degrading, you know? Being forced to do things with your body that you don't want to. If they paid us for it, we might be outlawed for prostitution or something."

Brandon frowned. It was a pretty flimsy reason. He caught Sajel's and Derek's and Stasya's looks and saw he wasn't alone in his suspicion.

The simple fact was, Jane knew nothing about sex. And she didn't know she didn't know it. But it wasn't a case of lack of education, it was a case of willful ignorance. She didn't want  to know. And now she was either going to learn... Or die trying.

"Whoa," said Arie suddenly. "Whoa whoa whoa. Oh god. Augh. That's more than I ever  wanted to see of my sister."

They turned. There, indeed, was Trina Chang, Arie's younger sister, descending the stairs in a state of total undress.

"Whoa," said Zach. "She has pubic hair? Already? Christa, did you  have pubic hair back then?"

"Why are you looking at my sister's pubes!" Arie cried. "You have a girlfriend!"

"Pedophilia," Sajel leered. "Minus fifteen thousand."

"Err. That's a big number," Zach said.

"Yup," said Sajel.

"Is that bigger or smaller than forty-seven?" Zach asked.

Trina was positively glowing. She had always been a cute, compact little thing, almost ornamental in her attractiveness—just the kind of bright, outgoing girl some jock might love to have hanging off his arm. But now she seemed especially pleased with herself. Why? Because she's naked?  Brandon wondered.

"What's up with her ," he said aloud.

"Did you know she signed up," Sajel asked.

"Yeah, I knew," Arie said. "She had to sign up for the same reason I did." Arie, clinically depressed, wasn't always able to live up to the obligations of daily schooling—getting homework done, being upbeat and positive, getting out of bed in the morning—and had made a deal with Dr. Zelvetti, trading a week in The Program for a certain amount of leniency from her teachers. Trina had done the same. "But knowing it isn't the same as seeing it."

"She seems quite happy," Jeff observed, with just a touch of dry sarcasm to admit he was stating the obvious.

"She shouldn't," Arie said. "She cuts, just like me. She's got scars, just like me."

"Are you sure?" Christa asked.

"Well, according to what she says online," said Arie. Both she and her sister were members of an Internet bulletin board, Candlelight Vigil, for depressed teenagers. Both of them also inflicted shallow, cosmetic cuts on themselves for purposes of stress relief and coping, a behavior known scientifically as "self-injury" or "self-harm," but generally called "cutting" by those who did it. The scars on Arie's arms were the reason she never wore short sleeves, even in summer, unless she was in the company of those few people she trusted.

Arie rubbed at her arms over her sleeves. At least , she thought, the number of people I trust is slowly going up.

"Yes, but, we know she likes attention," Christa said. "She might be just saying it."

"No, I've seen her do it," Arie said.

"But she doesn't seem worried," said Derek. "Arie's reception wasn't exactly friendly, and by all rights Trina should be facing the same thing. But she doesn't seem worried."

"Something's up," Brandon said.

"Stating the obvious, minus ten to Brandon," Sajel said.

"Hey, I do my best," Brandon said, feeling inexplicably tired.

Suddenly, the PA system echoed around them. "Would seniors Derek Strong and Meredith Levine please report to Dr. Zelvetti's office immediately. Would—" The recitation was pierced by the ringing of the warning bell for first period. "—seniors Derek Strong and Meredith—" It was Monday morning, and school was about to start.

"What's going on," Arie asked her boyfriend.

"I don't know," Derek said, "I haven't heard anything about it."

"Is she even here ?" Christa asked. "She's been absent so much this year—I don't think she's made a full week of school yet."

"I guess we'll find out," Stasya said.

"Ooooo, Derek's in trouble ," Zach leered.

"Dork," Sajel said.

"Here we go," Brandon muttered to himself.

"So, what did you think of the Hemingway story," Christa said, taking Jane in hand. They were in many of the same classes together and had been for many years. "Did you understand it? I had to look it up on the Internet before I got it."

"I got it," Jane said, leaping eagerly into the academic world: it was, by far, her specialty. "But I've read it before. The man's trying to get the girl to have an abortion. That's what the letting-the-air-in part is all about."

"Yeah, that's what the Internet said," Christa agreed.

"I wonder why Meredith got called in," Stasya said.

"Maybe to convince her to do something about Brandon," Derek said, giving that one a direct stare.

"Not likely," Brandon grunted.

"I wish," Stasya said. Meredith called Brandon 'the best thing that ever happened to me,' and she was pretty sure the reverse was true as well. And if anyone was smart enough to know that, it was Dr. Zelvetti. That was why her bad judgment on Jane was so disturbing—none of them had ever known her to take a wrong step. Someone was desperately wrong about Jane... But if history was any judge, it wasn't Dr. Z.

"It's going to be an interesting week," she said.

"Tell me about it," Brandon said.

---

 

M.2

Derek was busy at recess, so Brandon wasn't able to ask him about the principal's appointment until lunch. They met, as they had for over a year, at the porch on the north side of Stetsen. It was a good location—easy access to food, to bathrooms, to lockers, to most of the rest of the school; and they could see people walking by and be observed in turn. Brandon had hoped Derek might have some news about Meredith, but his response was almost as interesting: "I found out where Faith Bennett went."

"Really now," Arie said. Faith had been Derek's Program partner in early May. She gave off every impression of being addled in the head: strange conversational jumps, easily distracted, unadulterated naïveté. Then, the week after, she had simply disappeared, and no one knew where she'd gone.

"Yes," Derek said, glancing at Arie carefully. Faith had needed a lot of guidance that week, and Derek's new responsibilities had almost torn him from Arie permanently. They'd managed to patch things up, thankfully, and now they were closer than ever before, but Faith had still been a trouble spot, and Arie was known to have a very long memory. It would probably be smart to tread lightly.

"Is that why Dr. Z. wanted to talk to you?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah," Derek said. "She just heard back from some friends. Faith got reported as a Missing Person by Dr. Z. back in May, and evidently someone matched her face to the picture on the milk carton. She's in Louisiana. She calls herself Helen Chase now."

"Wait, she... What?" said Zach.

"Yeah, that was the weird thing," said Derek. "According to the police, they look identical. We've got photos to prove it. But this Helen Chase wasn't half as scatter-brained as Faith Bennett. In fact, they say she was in total control of her faculties. She's living alone in an apartment, she works at a restaurant, they described her as..." He dredged the words up from his memory. " 'Charming and highly capable.' It makes no sense."

"Faith Bennett," Arie said. "Always a mystery."

"She's living alone ?" Christa said incredulously. "Without tripping over her own two feet?"

"And this is the girl Sajel described as being a kindergartener," Zach said.

"Maybe she got dropped on her head again," Brandon observed. "Knocked things back into alignment."

"Will wonders never cease," said Sajel dryly.

"This makes no sense whatsoever," Arie said. "People like Faith don't just get fixed ."

"No... The thing is," Derek said, hesitating. "It might make sense."

Everyone turned to him. This was something he had never told to anyone, so he chose his words carefully.

"Right when we were all getting dressed, on the Friday of my Program week, I mean... She came on to me," Derek said. "And I don't mean, 'Hey, she said something that could be misconstrued as hitting on me,' I mean she really  came on to me. She was totally... Totally conscious, she wasn't getting distracted, she... It was like she was a different person."

"Oh. My. God," said Zach. "She's schizophrenic ."

"No, schizophrenia just means you hear and see things that aren't there," Brandon corrected. " Dissociative Identity Disorder  is when you have multiple personalities."

"Well, why don't they just call it multiple personality disorder then," Zach said.

"They did," Brandon said. "Then they changed the name, because they decided it wasn't multiple personalities but rather dissociated identity."

"What's 'dissociate' mean?" Zach asked.

"It means Shut up, you're a moron," Sajel said. "So Faith was faking it the entire time?"

"That's what it seems like," Derek said. "If so, it was quite an act. I don't know if anyone ever caught on, even Dr. Z."

Christa looked at Brandon's face, and for his sake said the thing he should've been brave enough to ask himself: "Do you know what Meredith got called in for?"

"No, actually," Derek said. "I got sent out before Dr. Z. talked to her."

"So she was here," Stasya asked.

A pair of eyes watched the laughter from far away. Only Jeff saw her: Meredith Levine, with sadness writ large on her face. "Speak of the devil," he murmured. Her eyes were on Brandon, but also on Stasya Fyodorevna, her best friend, and he suddenly realized what a bad idea it might have been for Stasya to have merged her friends into Brandon's group—now that she was associated with him, Meredith could hardly approach her.

Jeff saw her, but when his eyes met hers, she jumped a little bit as if startled, waved in a manner that was not half as convincing as she would have liked, and walked off. Jeff frowned to himself.

"Brandon, when's the last time you talked to her?" Christa asked.

"I... I dunno," Brandon said. "I... Well, we talked on Thursday. Remember, we were all heading out after—"

"No, not just chatted with her," Christa said. They had walked to their cars as a group after their various music practices had let out; it had been inconsequential banter, and while both Brandon and Meredith had been involved in the conversation, they had walked on opposites sides of the group and had never addressed each other directly. "When's the last time you actually spoke  to her, not just talked."

Brandon's face closed. "...I think... Before summer. Maybe the day Jane had to go to the hospital."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Derek said.

Brandon sighed. "Yeah." I haven't been this lonely in... I dunno, longer than I've been alive?   "I should."

"You should at least try  it," Sajel said.

"You know, speaking of trying," Zach said. "What about you, Saje?"

"What about  me, dingbat," Sajel said.

"Well, let's see here," he said. "Arie and Brandon have been in The Program. Christa and I have been in The Program. Derek and Meredith have been in The Program. Stasya and Jeff have both been in it. And now even Jane's in it," Zach said. "So, that leaves, just... You."

Sajel said nothing, but her face grew grim.

"So, what about it?" Zach asked.

"Never," Sajel spat.

"Never?" Zach said.

"Never's such a big  word," Jeff said dryly.

"Never, and you know darn well why, Zach Delancey Crane," Sajel snarled.

"Delancey??" Stasya exclaimed.

"Thanks a lot, Sajel," Zach said darkly.

"That's such a cool name!" Stasya said.

"Thanks a lot, Sajel!" Zach grinned.

"Is it because of..." Christa said, trailing off.

"The same reason as Arie and Trina," said Sajel. "But worse." Sajel's secret, better kept than most, were the injuries she had sustained as a child. A rainstorm had blown a tree down on her bedroom while she slept on her stomach. Now her back was criss-crossed with scars. She had never had a date or a boyfriend in her life—and, as far as any of them could tell, she didn't think she ever would.

"Come on, it's not such a big deal," Zach said. "Look at Arie. She found a boyfriend."

"She's not covered  in them," Sajel retorted.

"My arms are," said Arie. "They're like sandpaper."

"Yeah, well, my all of me  is like sandpaper," Sajel snorted. "No one's gonna put up with that ."

"Even your vagina?" Arie asked.

"What?" said Sajel.

"You said all of you was like sandpaper," Christa said. "It's logical to wonder if that included your ladybits." It was time for some humor, as far as she was concerned. "Because if it did, then  I could understand why nobody would want you. I mean, ladybits have to be smooth, right?"

Sajel stared at her for a moment. "Yes," she deadpanned. "Yes, Christa. My box is exactly  like sandpaper."

"Owch," Jeff winced.

"Look," said Zach. "You're hotter than Jane and you're nicer than Arie."

"Hah," said Arie.

"Okay, you're funnier  than Arie," said Zach. "I'm sure you could find someone who would put up with you. Who would more  than put up with you."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Sajel said.

"Excuse me," came a new voice. "Sajel Malhotra?"

They turned. It was a tall boy, one they'd seen around but had never met before. His clothes were in blue and brown, his black hair fell in an untidy mop, and glasses shielded his eyes in a way that made him seem to never blink. When he spoke, his voice was a pale, even grey.

"Hi, I'm Garrett Song," he said. "We have classes together."

"Oh. Garrett," said Sajel. "Hi."

"Listen, I was wondering." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Are you doing anything this Saturday? If not, would you like to go, I don't know, see a movie or something?" And then, seeming to think he hadn't made his point clear: "I know we've never really met, but... I think you're attractive and I'd like to get to know you better."

There was a short silence as everyone waited for Sajel's response. Brandon felt bad for this fellow Garrett—having to ask someone out while all her friends stared at him. That took more courage than most people ever experienced over their entire lives. All things considered, he'd done an okay job. Now they just needed to see how Sajel would—

"I'm sorry," Sajel said. "I'm... Busy on Saturday."

"Oh," said Garrett slowly. "Oh. I see. Well. Perhaps some other time, then."

"Perhaps," said Sajel, her voice making it clear that there wouldn't be another time.

"Well. I'll see you later then," said Garrett. He wandered away.

Sajel watched him go. She sighed. "Too bad. He's pretty hot, too."

"He is," Christa said. There was a wholesomeness about the fellow, a sense of calmness and steadiness, that was appealing.

Sajel's face twisted, a strange expression they'd never seen there before: regret. "The truth is, I've... Kinda been hoping he'd say that. But... There it went."

"Well, what are you doing on Saturday that's so important," Zach asked her.

Sajel looked at him. "Saturday? Nothing, dumbass. But I couldn't say Yes to him."

"You... You what?" said Christa.

"Why not?" Zach exclaimed.

" Duh ! My back, dumbass!" Sajel said. "Missing the obvious: minus ten points Zach!"

"Your back!!" Zach said. "Your— Sajel, he doesn't know your scars from a hole in the wall! He didn't ask you out because of them, he didn't ask you out not-because of them, he doesn't know they exist . You could've at least tried it and given him a chance, instead of just shutting him down right off the bat! Maybe he would've liked you anyway!"

"Not fucking likely," Sajel retorted. "So there's no point in bothering."

Zach tossed his hands and fell silent, seeing he wasn't going to win this one.

"Hey, look," said Jeff. "Here comes Jane."

It was indeed Jane, and though she looked none the worse for wear, Brandon could see her foul mood like a thundercloud around her. She was not wearing clothes, which was enheartening, but her appearance raised a myriad conflicting emotions and desires within him. He had loved Jane, loved her very dearly; and things with Meredith had gone distinctly sour. He could hardly be blamed for...

"Hello, Jane," said Jeff. "You look very pleasant at this hour."

"Great," Jane snarled. "That's exactly  what I wanted out of this week. Pleasant."

"We could've told you you looked ravishing," Arie said blandly, "but you would've bit our heads off."

"Not that she's not doing that now," said Christa.

"Seems like being friendly isn't the way to go, maybe we should just insult her," Sajel said.

"Maybe if you  had to go naked you'd  be just as annoyed as I am," Jane shot back. "It's not exactly easy, you know."

"No, it isn't," Christa agreed.

"You start feeling like everyone's looking at you," Arie said. " Everyone . Drive a girl to paranoia."

Jane blinked several times. She hadn't been prepared for the possibility that someone might agree with her.

"How are you holding up," Derek asked.

"Has anyone asked to touch you," Arie asked.

"Yes," Jane said darkly.

"Who?"

"Russell Hebbert," Jane said.

Christa shook her head. "Never heard of him."

"I have," Stasya said. "He's a junior. Tall, brown hair... I think he's on the volleyball team. He's pretty hot..." She looked over at Jane. "Was he good?"

" No ," Jane said. "I hated it. He just poked and prodded and yanked and everything, and it was awful ."

"Really?" Stasya exclaimed. "That's not what I've heard from other people. Supposedly he's pretty good."

"He is," Arie said. "Seriously. He does this thing where he sucks on your clit and then reaches up for your breasts, and—"

She was met with a circle of blank stares.

"What?" she said. "Can't a girl get around a little?"

"This was before  Derek, right?" Christa asked.

"Of course  it was before Derek, what kind of slut do you think I am?" Arie retorted. "...Okay, so I am  kind of a slut, but I'm a faithful one. I don't burn the candle at both ends. In any case, I rather enjoyed him."

"Didn't help me  out any," Jane gritted. She tore a chunk from her sandwich in a way that made Brandon glad she wasn't mad at him.

"Did he like yank at you or something?" Derek asked.

"No," Jane said.

"Did he not touch your nipples," Derek asked.

Jane colored. "I'm not telling you that."

"Look, it doesn't matter," Brandon said. "This is Jane  we're talking about."

"So?" Jane scowled.

"So," Brandon shrugged, feeling too tired to soften his words. "God Himself could feel her up, but it wouldn't matter. She'd refuse to enjoy it."

"Brandon!" Jane said, angry that the truth was out.

"Christa! Christa!" came a new voice. It was Christa's little brother, Thomas—Tom these days, now that he was a big bad upperclassman and no longer fit to be addressed by the diminutive 'Tommy.' He was bounding across the grass towards them, calling his sister's name.

He arrived panting but triumphant. "Christa! Christa! I did it! I—" He looked. "Wait. Is that Jane?"

"Wow, Jane!" Zach cried. "Your fame is spreading!"

"Come on over here, Christa," said Tommy, glancing at Jane. "I don't want her to hear this."

"Then you'd better not tell me," said Christa. She was no longer taller than him, but she could still face him down. "If it concerns my friend Jane, she'll hear about it from me. You might as well just tell her too."

"Fine," said Tommy, too excited to be deflated. "Guess what, Christa? I did it!"

"What did you do, Tom," Christa asked.

"I asked Lisa out!" said Tommy. "And she said yes!"

"Lisa who?" Jane asked.

"Lisa Myers," Christa supplied.

"Lisa Myers ?" Jane cried.

"He's been hoping to for a little while," Christa said.

"That's my sister!" Jane exclaimed.

"See," said Christa, "this is why I told you you might as well tell her too."

Tommy looked at Jane's face. "Should I leave now?"

"What's wrong with someone asking your sister out," Sajel asked Jane. "She's in high school. These things'll happen."

"And at least it's Christa's brother," Zach volunteered, "instead of, like, some horndog with only one thing on his mind."

"Do you know how far she goes?" Tommy asked Jane. "Do you know?"

"What?" Jane said.

"Like, does she fuck on the first date?" Tommy asked.

"Tom!" Jane said.

"Tom!" Christa said.

"What?" Tommy said, innocent.

"Okay, maybe he does  only have one thing on his mind..." Zach grumbled.

"Tommy, maybe that's not a good thing to ask her—" Christa began.

"Don't call me that," he said. "It's Tom . I'm not a little boy anymore."

"You're acting like one," Christa said sternly. "That's not the kind of thing someone likes to be asked about their younger sister. Or to hear  asked by their younger brother, either."

"Oh," said Tommy.

"Apologize to Jane," said Christa.

"Sorry, Jane," said Tommy dutifully.

"You better not act like that toward my sister," Jane thundered. "If I hear anything about—"

" Jane ," said Brandon. "Jane. Calm down. He's just asking questions. You have no idea how he's actually going to act when the time comes."

"Yeah," Zach pitched in. "There's stories about guys who get so nervous, they never get hard."

"Eew!" Jane cried.

"What?" Zach said, blinking at her. "It's the truth."

"It's more than I wanted to know," Jane said, covering her eyes.

"I'm sure you'd find out eventually," Brandon said, taking a cruel relish at how Jane's face twisted in anguish.

"And, at this rate, your sister will find out before you do," Derek supplied helpfully.

"No," Jane said, turning to Brandon. "We can't let that happen. It's wrong ."

"To you," Brandon said. "Not necessarily to anybody else."

"But they're still wrong," Jane said.

Brandon shrugged, too tired to care. "Sucks to be them then."

"Tommy," Christa was saying. "There's more to dating than sex. I know it's a wonderful thing, and you're very interested in it. Lisa may even be too. But there's more to dating than that."

"Yeah, I know," said Tommy. Brandon wasn't especially convinced.

"All right," said Christa, seeing this wasn't going to be won any time soon. "We'll talk after school. And congratulations, by the way." Inspiration struck: the perfect way to get him out of here. She turned to her friends. "Did you know that was the first time a girl has agreed to go out with him?"

Tommy blushed. "Aww, Christa."

After he had left, Jane turned to Christa. "I don't think he believed you."

"About what?"

"That there's more to life than sex," Jane said.

Christa sighed. "No, neither do I. That's why I told him we'd talk after school. There's sex, and then there's... Well, fucking, I guess. Is the best way to put it. And then there's making love too, but we really don't need to complicate it that much. I know we're a lot more permissive than twenty years ago, but the bottom line is the same—if you love somebody, it's okay to have sex with them. The only thing that's really changed is how we define whether we love somebody."

"Yeah," Jane said. "Redefined it like crazy."

"You think people can recover from that?" Sajel asked. "If you get into bed too early."

"Yeah, probably," Christa said. She gestured to Zach. " We  did."

"We did," Zach agreed.

"Of course, it took you guys a little while to get started," Derek said. "It was, like, what, a couple of months? Before you guys started doing it on anything near a regular basis."

"Yeah, it only really started when you and Meredith were in The Program," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, it..." Christa had a strange, dreamy smile on her face, and her eyes saw something none of them else could. "Hee."

"We survived it too," Arie said to Derek.

"Yeah, but not before we almost got shaken apart," Derek said.

"By Faith," Arie said.

"Too much of it or not enough of it," Zach quipped.

"Yeah, but, we  had to do some learning too," Derek said. "She was just the symptom. The real  problem was that we did  jump into bed too early. I mean, sure, we got along pretty well, but we didn't know each other too well. And it wasn't until Faith almost drove us apart that we even realized  we'd gotten things wrong."

"True," Arie said. "But we're okay now , so, no arguments on my  part."

"What about you, Brandon," Christa asked. "When did you and Meredith first have sex?"

Brandon was silent for a moment. He was pretty sure Meredith wouldn't like this fact being publicized about herself—in truth, he wasn't sure he  wanted it known either. But he had always felt that he could trust his friends with anything. Besides , he thought, with a sudden burst of anger, who cares what she  thinks. If she wants to protect her secrets, let her come here and protect them. Instead of disappearing and being all—

"Actually, on our first official date," he said.

Derek chortled. "That makes all six of us."

"What, the same day as me and Derek?" Arie exclaimed. "When we got back you said you didn't!"

"Yeah, that wasn't our first official date," Brandon said. "It was about a week later."

"What happened?" Christa asked. "You've never discussed it before. I mean, I know you guys were having  sex, but..."

Brandon shrugged. "Not much. I made dinner, we watched a movie. And afterwards... Things happened. I honestly hadn't expected it to go that far, but... Meredith was something different."

" ' Was  something different'?" Stasya asked.

Brandon looked at her silently and said nothing.

"How can you say Meredith was something different?" Jane railed. "You broke up with me and you went straight to her! And she's like my exact opposite—"

"Now, I wouldn't say that," Derek interrupted.

"Jane, you and Meredith are alike in a lot of ways," Christa said.

"How can you say that?" Jane asked.

Brandon opened his mouth—and then shut it again. It was true that Jane and Meredith were very similar: both of them were gentle, rational girls who placed a lot of emphasis on schoolwork and who would do anything for their friends. The only really important difference between them, as far as he was concerned, was the underlying mind-set that made Jane unwilling to have sex, where Meredith had opened up on the first date.

Jane was... Isolated. She refused to rely on anyone except herself. That made it hard for her to accept Brandon, who had wanted—very much—to be a part of her life. And where Jane pushed away, Meredith had opened her heart and let him in. He had loved them both, but with Meredith, he felt that she too loved him, in exactly the same way he loved her. It was something he had never felt about Jane.

And then there was the fact that sometimes he wasn't at all sure if he was over Jane. Though she dressed to not-impress—he was pretty sure she'd let her looks go sour in a deliberate attempt to foil male attention—if she cleaned up a bit she'd rival Meredith in the way of looks. And he'd sometimes felt, over the ten months they'd dated, that she was almost ready, just on the cusp, almost  ready... To admit she might have need of him.

If she one day did, there would be no difference between her and Meredith. Nothing at all.

Everyone was looking at him. He realized he was going to have to answer. He opened his mouth—

"You know, almost every single first time in this group has been in your house, Brandon," Sajel observed. "It's like the bordello from hell or something."

"It's sure big enough!" Zach interjected.

Brandon shut his mouth with a clomp .

Sajel looked around. "Stasya didn't have it, Jeff didn't have it—"

"I haven't had anything ," Jeff said.

"—and Jane hasn't had it," Sajel said, "but everyone who has was in your house. Any ideas?"

"Privacy," Brandon said. "There's never anyone there, and even if there is, it's easy to get far away from them. You start feeling like there's no one in the whole world except you and whoever it is you're in bed with."

"That, and the fact that it's owned by a friend who would do anything for you," Zach said.

"There's truth to that," Arie said. "He'd jump off a bridge if we asked him to."

"So don't ask me to jump off a bridge, 'kay," Brandon said with a sarcastic smile.

"Hey, Arie," said Jeff. "It's your sister."

They looked at where Jeff indicated. There, at the far end of his finger, was Trina: animated, carefree, happy. Even as they watched, someone stepped in for a quick feel.

"She's never like this at home," Arie said. "Never. Unless something's really really gone well, and even then it doesn't last, she's bitchy again by morning. ...Or she's decided to spike something and my parents will be beating down the door, demanding I hand over my voodoo dolls."

"You have voodoo dolls?" Zach asked.

"No, I don't," Arie said. "And that's exactly it. Why do they keep believing  her when she says I do?"

"And what about her scars," Stasya asked. "No one's reacting."

"How did they react to you, Arie," Christa asked.

"Not like that," Arie said. "It was more like, Hey, naked girl—Hey, what's with her arms—Eew! And then that was that."

"Of course, The Program's been going for a year, you'd think they'd be over the 'Hey, naked girl' stuff," Sajel said. "But nooooo ..."

"Where are Trina's scars," Christa asked.

"I... Actually, I don't know," Arie said. "She wears short-sleeved T-shirts, so I bet there aren't any on her forearms, they're probably on her thighs... But I've seen  her cut on her forearms, so maybe that was... But it doesn't matter," she said, seeing where Christa was headed. "Unless they're, like, right on the underside of her arms and legs, there's no way to keep them from being visible. And cutting there is inconvenient. Not to mention uncomfortable. Chafes something fierce every time you move."

"So... It shouldn't be possible for her to be acting like this," said Christa.

"No, it shouldn't," said Arie.

"And despite that, she seems really happy," Christa said.

"Either that, or that guy's good with breasts," Zach said.

"Is it Russell Hebbert?" Stasya asked.

"Why hasn't anyone noticed her scars yet??" Arie said. "By this time in my week, people were fending me off with garlic and crucifixes. But she's all just—"

"Crucifices," Brandon said.

Arie looked over at him. "What?"

"Plural of crucifix. Matrix: matrices. Crucifix: crucifices."

Arie stared at him. "What is with  you and vocabulary?"

"Most people just say 'crucifixes,' Brandon," Christa said. "Maybe it is  the wrong spelling, but pretty clearly everyone uses it anyway."

"Nerd," Sajel gloated. "Minus fifteen respect points Brandon."

"I think he ought to lose more," Stasya said. "It's really inappropriate for him to just whip out his nerddom in public like that."

"Oh, eew ," Jane said.

"There she goes," Jeff said. He was watching Trina. "That person's done, off she goes... Oops. She's been stopped again."

" Again ??" Arie said. She stood up.

Derek looked up at her with alarm. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go find out what's going on," Arie said.

"Are you sure that's a—" Christa began.

"Don't bother," Derek murmured. "There's no reasoning with her when she gets like this."

"I'm going," Arie announced.

"Be careful," Brandon said. "You could piss Trina off something fierce."

"Probably will," Arie said with a humorless laugh, and went off.

Trina was just getting free of her most recent assailant when Arie approached. "Rule Three," she said loudly. "I have a reasonable request."

Trina gave her a sidelong glance. She shared her sister's green eyes and long shining hair, but where Arie was well-fleshed, edging into overweight according to modern society's matchstick standards, Trina was slender, long-limbed, like a ballerina on a music box. The smile on her face took on a sudden vicious edge.

"What," she said loudly, "a reasonable request? From my very own sister? Will wonders never cease!"

Arie stifled annoyance. Dealing with Trina was always like this; she seemed to enjoy tearing down Arie's reputation as much as possible. But she'd known it'd be a conflict going in.

"Yes, a request, but not for touching," Arie said. "I have a question."

"Well, then," said Trina, the graciousness of her reply marred only by the edge of sarcasm in her voice, "ask away, o sister mine!"

"What'd you do with your scars?" Arie asked.

The smile fell from Trina's face, replaced with a narrow scowl. "Fuck off."

"Hey, it's a reasonable request," Arie said. "I asked you a reasonable question and you're obligated to answer it. I want to know. Whatever you've done that keeps people from noticing or commenting on your scars, I totally want to know it. I  could've used it a year ago, and I'm probably going to need it in future. So tell me. What'd you do?"

Trina's eyes hardened. "Fuck. Off."

"Look," Arie said, abandoning all pretense of friendship. "I'm not going away until you tell me."

"Then you'll be standing here a very, very long time, won't you," Trina gritted.

"Look, why are you so opposed to telling me?" Arie asked. "It's not like I'm going to reveal your secret or anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Trina said, a sweet, vicious smile on her face, and walked away.

"Trina— Trina!" said Arie. She grabbed at her sister's arm.

It felt moister than usual. Arie looked at her hand: it had come away with paint on it.

...Makeup?

She grabbed again, this time higher up Trina's arm. This time there was nothing. Where are they? Is it really that simple to hide them? How stupid am I? How smart is Trina?

"Don't touch me, bitch," Trina snarled.

"Reasonable request," Arie said glibly, and dove.

It was at this point that she confirmed a hypothesis she had long suspected: Trina Chang's scars were indeed on the inside of her thighs. Not high enough that anyone touching her intimate parts should encounter them, but they were still there.

Trina's eyes were venomous. "Arie, sister of mine," she said in a sweet, carrying voice, "why exactly are you touching me between my legs?"

The passing stream of students came to a complete and utter halt.

Arie withdrew her hand and attempted to regain her composure. "Scientific research, of course."