Turning onto her stomach, in the midst of peaceful slumber, reality slowly bled through into her dreams. The strong sunshine of a perfect, tropical beach slowly gave way to a strong, blustering winter wind. It was suddenly cold. Very cold. Why are my legs so fucking freezing? With considerable effort, her eyes still closed tightly, she stretched her long arms on to the frigid floor and retrieved the plaid, flannel blanket which almost always found its way beside her bed instead of on it during the night. She pushed her pillow up and into a ball before she ventured a quick glance to her alarm clock on her night stand. She had to have ... what... two or three more hours of sleep left. She swore only a second ago it was midnight. She groaned however when she saw the red glow of the digits... 5:29 am... the colon between the numbers blinking rapidly, slowly ticking away towards the inevitable.

A second later, the small radio came to life with the sounds of Eddie Van Halen’s power guitar riffs peppered with David Lee Roth’s voicing screeching “Running with the Devil.” She groaned again and rolled onto her back stretching her long, slender arms above her head. She loved this song. She laid there for a few moments listening to the last notes of the song fade into hard, tin guitar of the rock Kinks anthem “You’ve Really Got Me” before opening her sleepy, red eyes.

The same sight that greeted her cerulean eyes every morning came into clear focus. Four painted faces stared back at her. The cat, the spaceman, the demon and the superstar, these are the faces that mesmerized her as a child. These larger than life characters, Peter, Gene, Paul and Ace, better known to the world as KISS, were the symbol of something beyond the small space she now inhabited.

The low, angled ceiling above her bed, along with every available inch of wall space, was covered with posters of rock-n-roll gods. Next to KISS, Randy Rhodes, wailing on his black polka dot guitar, was lifted high in the air by the laughing madman Ozzy Osborne. His former Birmingham bandmates, Black Sabbath, held a position just below Randy while Jim Morrison, his seductive eyes wide, peered through the window of the Morrison Hotel with the rest of the Doors beside him. The only female presence on this section of wall was a small newspaper clipping, now faded a dark yellow, that heralded the breakup of the Runaways. On the accompanying picture of the all-girl punk group fronted by Joan Jett, someone had drawn horns and fangs on Lita Ford’s face.

She bent her neck back and forth, her long fingers trying to smooth away the dull stiffness. She craned her neck back and noticed her Misfits’ poster, a white foreboding, faded skull against a stark, black background, was beginning to peel away from the wall. Damn. Can’t do anything about that now. She knew she had to move.

What did mom used to say, start early, finish early...something like that. She was too tired to search her memory banks for the exact phrase drilled into her psyche as a small child. Her mother had a saying for everything. Instead of wallowing in the past, she swung her long legs onto the floor and away from the warm comfort of her bed hoping to remove the layers of sleepy confusion still hanging over her head like a cloud. What day was it exactly? She ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp as if it would make the answer more apparent. Thursday. Right. Quickly jerked into reality by importance of the day... European History Midterm. Damn! Her mind raced, searching for any information that hopefully found its way into her memory banks after the three hour long cram session she had lost sleep over the night before. She was relived when she realized some of it had stuck. Right, the Axis and Allies. Hitler, Stalin, and the leader of Japan, fuck, what was his name?. Scratching her head, the question lost its importance when she realized it was already 5:40 and she was still in her room. She could not suppress a deep yawn as she lumbered towards her bedroom door, almost tripping over the open guitar case near her desk. Along the way, she reached for some clothes scattered near her almost empty closet. It should be a crime to get up this early.

After slipping on one of her father’s old work shirts over her favorite, long sleeved black shirt, Nell ran her long fingers through her dark brown hair and braced herself as she turned on the bright, bathroom light. She was blinded for a few moments as her tired eyes adjusted to the light. Quickly, she brushed her teeth and continued on down the hall to the room at the other end, picking up her pair of scuffed, black boots near the staircase. She pushed the door open as she hobbled to maintain her balance and slipped one of her boots on. Nell was greeted by the deep snores that always started her day. “Dad,” she whispered to the figure barely visible underneath the layers of blankets. “Dad,” she repeated louder this time. “Get up. It’s almost six.”

A sleepy “huh, what” was the only response.

Nell sighed deeply and approached the bed as she hopped on one leg and slipped on the other high combat boot. “Dad. Work. Up. It’s almost six.” She touched her father’s exposed shoulder and slapped the top of his graying head playfully. “The early bird.” God, I sound like mom. “You don’t wanna be late.”

He groaned. We are definitely a family of groaners, she thought to herself. “Okay, honey. I’m up. I’m up.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “You leaving.”

“I’m leaving,” she replied flatly. “You know, like every other morning since I was ... fifteen.” She tied the laces leaning against the wall for support. “The coffee’s on. And don’t forget, you have to pick up grandpa’s blood pressure pills today. They should be ready by your lunch break.”

“Right. Pills.” After a moment of pause and another sound yawn, he continued. “Don’t you have that midterm today? In ...ah...Spanish. No wait, history.” He swung his bare feet towards the cold floorboards.

“European History, dad.”

“Oh, there’s a difference? Good luck. Not that you need it.”

“Wish I had your confidence. I need all the luck in the world.”

Chris Campbell observed his daughter thoughtfully as she adjusted her laces. He found himself wondering when she had gotten so tall. She was a young woman now. She would be leading her own life pretty soon. It was still hard to believe his little baby girl was seventeen. In his eyes, it seemed liked her childhood existed in the space of one heartbeat. And now her childhood was almost over.

He looked at her in the dim light of his bedroom. The older she got, the more she reminded him of his late wife; the same disarming smile, the same penetrating, clear eyes. Despite his biased opinion, he knew it was an unmistakable fact, his daughter was beautiful. “Did you steal my shirt again?” He pointed at the gray work shirt he recognized as his own.

She exhaled sharply. “We’ve been over this. It doesn’t fit you anymore remember.” She adjusted the shirt collar. “Besides, it looks better on me anyway.”

“I can’t argue with you on that.”

“And I like the name tag.” Nell looked at the white patch that had her family name stitched in red letters. “Love to show everyone I’m proud to be a Campbell.”

He smiled, still a little groggy from the early morning hour, but this was sometimes the only interaction he would have with this daughter all day. His double shifts at the plant sometimes meant she was deep in sleep by the time he got home. “So... any boyfriends I should know about?”

“Oh, god,” Nell whined. “As much as I would love to chat about my romantic relationships with my father,” she said with emphasis, “I’m on a schedule. And according to my watch, I’m about ..oh...five minutes late...”

“So, you are admitting there are romantic relationships?” He loved to tease his daughter, especially with subjects he knew she was uncomfortable talking about. “Now, what have you been hiding for your dad? Who is he? What does he want to be when he grows up? What are his intentions?”

“Dad.” Nell backpedaled away from the door frame, making a run for it. “Have a good day.”

“Love you, Whiz,” he said finally rising from the bed, his hands cradling his aching back. “See ya tonight. I should be home at a decent hour time.”

She smiled warmly at hearing her nickname. “Love you too, Dad.”

Satisfied with the soft, shuffling foot fall of her father’s lethargic form making its way towards the bathroom, Nell made one last dash to her bedroom. She grabbed her black wallet and two audio tapes from her corner desk. The dark December morning looked no different than the day before and it was probably just as cold. She didn’t want to think about it too much. If she did, the rational side of her brain would team up the irresponsible side and lure her back to her warm, toasty bed for another two hours of deep, peaceful sleep. Instead, she walked quietly down the wooden stairs, her backpack in one hand and her black jean jacket in the other, towards the oak front door.

She checked her appearance quickly in the mirror. Not that she really cared what she looked like at 6am or any other time of day for that matter, but she didn’t want to leave the house looking like a total disaster. She pushed her hair back over her ears and placed a black, wool cap over her head. With a satisfied breath, she opened the door.

A light dusting of snow had settled over the small town of Alexandria, Wisconsin the night before. It was nothing like what the weatherman had predicted. They made it seem like the sky was going to fall. Nell slipped on her jacket. One of these days, she was going to have to invest a winter coat. She jogged towards the garage, her tracks neatly imprinted on the freshly fallen snow. The morning was still pitch black. The only illumination was a single bulb attached above the garage door. Nell fished for her keys in the inside pockets for her jacket, her fingers growing stiffer by the second.

Slipping into her 1984 rust-riddled Dodge pick-up given to her by her grandfather, Nell hoped the heat worked today. The radiator had been giving her trouble for the past few months. She might have to ask her father to fiddle with it this weekend... if he had the time and the energy. It seemed that the only thing that worked in the car was the radio. She turned the ignition and awaited a few moments for the car to heat up. She blew hot air into her hands balled up like fists and spoke aloud, “the causes of World War II. I know this. I studied it.” She hit her head with her hand and hoped the answer would come. Instead, she simply muttered, “fuck!” She hated to have holes in her memory. Come on you studied this last night, she scolded herself. Nell turned on her headlights and slowly backed out of her driveway. Before coming to the end of her street, she popped in an audio tape. A deep voice began to sing, “I can’t remember anything. Can’t tell if its true or a dream...” Nell has a feeling it was going to be one of those days.

==========================

Money is money...no matter how you earned it. And Nell earned it. Hurling newspapers out of your car window at 6 in the morning isn’t what most people would considerable a respectable, promising profession, but at least she wasn’t out stealing car radios just so she could buy a pair of shoes. On the one hand, Nell didn’t like to think of herself as poor or disadvantaged. Those were labels she hated placed upon her. She hated labels period. But on the other, she knew her all too harsh reality. If, she didn’t hurl papers everyday out of her car window, she wouldn’t have enough money to do a lot of things other kids her age took for granted, like buying the latest albums or having a burger at the local dive.

Her father broke his back everyday, sometimes pulling double shifts at Fosters Meat, the town’s meat packing plant, just to pay for electricity, hot water and the roof over her head. She didn’t want to have to bother him with monetary requests for something as unnecessary for survival as the latest Metallica bootleg or new guitar picks. He had real bills to worry about, with the possibility of losing everything, always looming someplace in the distance. Life could change in a instant. Nell knew that all too well.

Life wasn’t always like this. Or at least that’s the way Nell remembered it. Maybe the good times weren’t always so good, but at least their was...she searched for the right word... joy? Could “joy” describe what was missing in her life? No, one word didn’t cover it. She didn’t know how to put it into words. Questions like this plagued on the long, lonely drive through the quiet and upscale suburban streets.

She tried to avoid the source of her feelings. The real, unbearable loss she had experienced a few years ago. She thought about her family...as it was and as it was now. Her mother and her younger brother were dead. After seven years, it was still hard to think about. To think about it too much was to make it more real. She wanted to keep it in the realm of unreal for as long as she could.

Nell moved to Wisconsin just after turning fourteen. Her father wanted to offer his daughter a chance at a normal life. Peace and domesticity were impossible in Minnesota. Everything and everyone never letting his daughter forgot how and why she didn’t have a mother or a younger brother. He accepted his father-in-law’s offer to move into his three story house in Alexandria. He needed help paying the remaining mortgage on the house. Chris Campbell thought it would heal some of the wounds his proud, strong daughter would never admit were still open and stinging. He thought she could learn more about the mother she barely knew.

Nell had the essentials. She had a loving older brother who despite being stationed in a US Army Fort in Virginia, never ceased to remind his little sis that even though they were hundreds of miles apart, he would always be there for her. A father who loved her more than his very life. And a grandfather who cherished the time he now had with her. Nell was never one to dwell on what she didn’t have because all she had was all she would ever need.

This was life. It was her life.

Nell tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel as she pulled into the bustling parking lot of Buckley Memorial High in anticipation of the next song on her tape. The familiar power cords started immediately.

Nell tried to imitate the distinctive riff at several rehearsals, but she had never nailed the final notes of it. Never. At least, not as well as Angus Young. She wondered if parading around in a schoolboy uniform while wailing away on her Gibson would help. It did work for Angus. She doubted it would work for her. Maybe she could convince Patrick it would improve his guitar playing. He was always a sucker for dumb advice.

Then, Brian’s unique vocal stylings began.

Screeching was probably more accurate. Back in Black had to be one of the greatest rock albums ever recorded, as conventional as that might sound. Nell wished she could make an album one day that would have a young girl sometime in the future trying to imitate her power cords. Enclosed in her car, Nell yelled along with him. After a few moments, she realized her time would be better spent if she studied for her midterm rather than singing along to a song she had sung no less than three hundred times before.

Her backpack slung against her shoulder, Nell inhaled the brisk morning air. Packs of girls and guys chatted incessantly in their little, perfectly assembled groups, the sound traveling all around her, forcefully invading her thoughts, her space. She caught pockets of dull conversations she had heard countless times before in different areas of the school grounds. Nick was dating Lisa, but they broke-up, but sorta had sex. Ethan was still dating Emily even though they broke up about three times already. There was a rumor that Tina was knock-up by a man twice her age. Even though the conversations had tantalizing elements, Nell walked past wondering why these events were of any importance other than to the people they were directly affecting. She hated gossip.

Nell knew once she walked past certain groups, there would probably a few lines dished out about her. She knew the rumors floating around about her. Some were mean-spirited, others were based on half-truths, while others were downright ridiculous. How could people actually believe she actually cut off a guy’s dick just to watch him die? Then again, she didn’t say she never would...

She didn’t mind being called the school psycho. Nutcase Nell...that was her personal favorite. It sounded quaint. As a rule, school psycho’s usually don’t get harassed or bothered by anyone. Fear, like a bad odor, kept people at a distance. It suited Nell fine. It was a way out of the high school click system. She didn’t have to take shit for anyone. Being a freak had its definite advantages.

Nell walked towards the four-storied brick building, her clear eyes focused straight ahead, trying to avoid the momentary glances tossed her way. She had been told by many people that she was quite an attractive girl. Though, this thought often left a sour taste in her mouth. It’s not really a compliment when guys make rude comments about one’s anatomy. Of course, Nell never saw her appeal. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw was a pale, thin face, small nose and a lanky body that looked like it belonged to a fifteen year old boy. She was hardly the All-American blond beauty queen. But, she did notice the occasional Neanderthal jock looking all-too appreciatively at the attributes that she did possess. She hated it. She simply rolled her eyes or stared right back at them until their gaze turned away. Nell was already counting the months till graduation.

There wasn’t much Nell was sure of, but there was one thing she knew for certain. Her future was hundreds of miles away from Alexandria. And the faster she left, the better.

“Hey, Campbell. Wait up, man, ” a deep, raspy voice cut through her internal musings and the increasing noise of the parking lot followed by hurried shuffling through the snow. “Slow your ass down! Not that I don’t appreciate the view.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Nell slowed her gate and turned around. She knew exactly who it was. A tall young man with curly, chestnut hair down to his broad shoulders jogged his way over. His strong, chiseled jaw was the first thing Nell ever took notice of, his trademark brown corduroy jacket was the second. He never went anywhere without it. Underneath his coat he wore his usual school attire, black, ripped jeans and a rock t-shirt. Led Zeppelin was the t-shirt choice made today.

Patrick Navarro was a piece of work. He was a walking contradiction. Arrogant and self-conscious, sarcastic and sincere, abrasive and gentle...it was an odd mix that Nell found intriguing and slightly annoying. Nell met Navarro shortly after her arrival in Alexandria. His father, a peace-loving hippie turned respectable businessman, owned a used record store in the North end of town. After every payday, Nell would treat herself to one vinyl, and if it wasn’t too expense, one bootleg of some recent metal concert. It took only a few visits for Richard Navarro to comment on the similarities between his son’s and Nell’s taste in music. Pretty soon, she came face to face with the nearly six foot tall guitar playing enigma. He tried to sweet-talk her. Nell called him out on it insulting, his fragile male ego. They were friends ever since.

A year after this fateful meeting, when Nell turned sweet sixteen, they turned bandmates when they started a rock cover band called Cannibal with two other guys from town. Playing the local bar scene in and around Alexandria only served to strengthen their bond. But Nell had to admit, there were days when she couldn’t stand to be around his swaggering maleness. Now, was a prime example.

She waited by the curb, arms crossed over her chest, partly out of strong irritation and partly because it was so damn cold. She always irritated by something he did. If he wasn’t such a nice guy...well, most of the time and a decent guitar player...ah, most of the time... she would never be friends with him. She never liked to admit to herself that Patrick Navarro was the closest thing she had to a best friend.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” He panted slightly. Despite his slender frame, he was completely out of shape. Nell was always amazed at how he could tire so easily. His hazel eyes were slightly red. If the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he had probably spent half the night, locked in his room listening to Zep or Motohead, hitting his bong. She didn’t really mind what he did on his own time just as long as he never did it around rehearsal or before a gig. That was there unspoken agreement. “You were walking pretty fast there. Not you’re usual bad-ass ‘don’t fuck with me’ strut.”

“So observant!” She sighed as she turned to continue walking towards the school building. “We’ve got a test third period. Remember, European history. Miss Reiser. The class you occasionally grace with your presence. I need to study.”

“Right.” He nodded. “And you worry about that shit,” he asked surprised. “Let me tell you, they can’t fail you outta high school. You’ll get promoted no matter what you get. Look at me, straight Cs and Ds. And I’m gonna graduate with ya.”

“Oh your father must be so fucking proud.” She paused in front of the school seal and looked up at the big clock in front it. She had twenty-five minutes before first period. She looked again at her friend and gave him a hard smack on the shoulder. “As much as I’d like to hear your slacker ideology and believe me, it’s riveting, I’ve really gotta study...so...what do you want.”

“Campbell, you know I hate it when you use words like ideology...save it for the SATs.” She was about to yell, her patience sorely being tested, but he quickly continued. “Anyway, just got two bootlegs for my cousin in DC.” He produced two audio tapes from his coat pocket. “Metallica at RFK. Supposedly, they performed some new songs...to test ‘em out you know. But, wait man, it gets so much better...the rarest of the rare,” he waved the second tape in front of her and said in a horrible imitation of British accent, “Diamondhead all the way from Manchester, baby.”

Nell’s blue eyes widened, all her attention now focused on the tape. Diamondhead.

Patrick continued. “Pretty cool huh. I gotta admit the quality is pretty shitty. It was taped sometime around ‘82, but their version of ‘Am I Evil’ is totally worth it. The guitar solo. Fuck, if I could make my fingers move that fast... I wouldn’t waste it on the guitar...” He laughed at his joke.

Nell rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t funny.”

He placed the cassette in her hand. “Listen to it. Dub it. Make love to it, whatever. Take it as long as it need with it. Give it back when your done.”

Nell held onto the tape as if it were holy grail. Diamondhead were a little known English Metal band who released only a few albums in the early eighties before breaking up around 1988. Getting a bootleg of many of their few performances was truly special. This music moved her soul. She wished she could be as good as they once were. Her irresponsible side screamed for her to go back to her car, screw the studying and listen to the tape. Instead, she simply exclaimed, “Man I could kiss you right now!”

Patrick grinned playfully and leaned his cheek forward. “Well...”

“But I’m not.”

“Oh, one of these days you’ll admit you want me. These past three years have just been a cover. You’ve pretended to be repulsed by me just to make it thrilling.”

She had to admit, she always enjoyed Navarro’s good natured teasing ... and his over-estimation of his sexual prowess. She leaned in close to his face, her lips almost touching his nose and whispered, “In your wet dreams.”

“See, a dam just waiting to burst!” A wide grin spread across his face, his dimples making him look like a five-year child. “Come on,” he cocked his head forward, “let me walk you in.”

Nell shook her head. “Always the gentleman.”

“Always.” Patrick wiped his running nose with his coat sleeve before clearing his throat and spitting on the ground. It landed a few inches away from a three girls in expensive, cashmere hats and gloves, standing near the front door immersed in “important” conversation. “Hey watch it,” and “asshole” were only coherent words that rose out of the small band as they walked away from the offending area.

Patrick turned around and bowed before them, mocking any chivalrous gesture. He called after the retreating group. “My deepest apologizes ladies, I’ll try not to miss next time.” He laughed as some of them turned around and gave him the evil eye, while others simply ignored him. He turned back around towards Nell who chuckled slightly at his display. “Bahhh....Run...Fucking sheep.”

Nell shook her head not wanting to encourage his sometimes offensive behavior. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know that!”

“Oh, but the other 25 percent of the time, I’m so damn charming.” Patrick held the glass door open for Nell. “After you, my love”

“Thanks, jerk.” Nell glanced back at the girls Patrick had scared away. Sheep, she thought to herself. She was surprised to find one of them, a short blond, looking back in her direction. She recognized her from her European History Class. What was her name again... Emily?

==========================

“Urgh, can you believe that asshole? Who does he think he is anyway?” Kristin moved her curly, auburn hair away from brown eyes, carefully not to disturb the few strands intentionally placed in front of her face.

Jamie immediately chimed in her opinion, unconsciousnessly imitating Kristin’s hair toss with her dark locks. “He’s so fucking gross. Fucking freak.”

Kristin countered. “Em, maybe you could get Ethan to go after him or something cause that was like the rudest thing that anyone has ever done to me.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders to emphasize her point.

“Not to mention the grossest,” Jamie echoed.

“You said that already!”

“Personally, I think the pointed needed emphasis, okay.”

“Do you think he’d really spit on us on purpose?” Kristin hugged her binder closer to chest.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s a complete psycho. He doesn’t care.”

“I mean look who he hangs out with. I heard she lives with her....”

The high-pitched voices surrounded her, becoming unintelligible sounds going through one ear and out the other, their meaning never registering. Emily watched her friend’s lips move, but it was like watching a foreign film with no subtitles. She couldn’t understand it. Well, not that she was paying much attention to begin with. Conversations always seemed to be carried on without her, the other party assuming she was an active participant. A simple nod at the right moment was all that was required of her. Over the past few years, Emily Thatcher had become a master at doing exactly what was required of her.

The Thatcher Family had been in Alexandria, Wisconsin since the town’s founding in 1903. Emily was told time and again of the power of her family name. Emily’s great grandfather, William Thatcher, helped draft the town’s original constitution, and later successfully ran for seat in the state legislator. Her grandfather won a landmark case against the town’s biggest factory. The ruling forced many safety codes to be implemented. Subsequently, William Thatcher II ran for mayor and remained in that position until his death seventeen years later. Now, at age thirty-seven, William Thatcher III, Emily’s father, had his sights set on becoming Wisconsin’s youngest elected United States Senator. Even though the elections were a full year away, the campaigning had begun. Mr. Thatcher was constantly on the evening news commenting on the hot topics of the day. It was a race many in the political “know” felt he had a very good chance of winning. The Thatcher name was now poised to invade Washington. It was a fact no one let Emily ever forget.

The grand, old Thatcher family history, however, was not on Emily’s mind this morning. Her thoughts were on more immediate, concrete matters. Her father’s voices echoed through her mind, her thoughts reliving the conversation from the previous night.

“Whatever you may think, honey, I am not doing this to be mean, but there are certain expectations that come with being a member of this family,” William Thatcher smoothed down his salt and pepper hair and let his hand settle on the back of his neck. It was a gesture that indicated the discussion one was having with him was serious. He closed his emerald eyes a moment and took a deep breath. “And I know you might not see it now, but I’m thinking about what is best for you.” William took a seat on the plush sofa next to his only daughter. “The University of Wisconsin is a terrific school. Your grandfather went there. I met your mother there....”

“Dad, I’ve heard this speech a thousand times. But, I want to go to school where my last name isn’t about dozen or so buildings.”

“What’s wrong with the Thatcher name?”

Emily tightened her left hand into a fist and quietly hit the back of the sofa. “Nothing. I proud of it. I’m proud of my history. But... I sorta don’t want that history to follow me around where ever I go.” She turned to face her father. “Dad, college is my time. It’s a time for me to blossom, a time for me to find my own path, right? How am I supposed to do that when everyone there will know who I am, where I come from and automatically assume things about me based solely on my last name. Can’t you see that?”

“Honey. I felt the same way when I was your age. Will people really like me for me or for who I know and what I have? Then, when I got up there, I realized everyone had those same questions. And I found my path. I realized that law was the only thing I wanted to do with my life..”

Emily interrupted. “I don’t want a lawy...” She stopped herself. She knew it wouldn’t make much of a difference. She had uttered those very words thousands of times before, but it never managed to stick, why would this time be any different. “I know it would make you proud dad if I were to become the first female lawyer in this family. I know how much it would mean to you if I took over the family firm, but that’s not my dream. It’s yours.” Emily looked squarely at her father, her bright green eyes holding her conviction. “I have my own dreams.” Not that you care, she thought to herself.

“I told my father the exact same thing when I was your age, but I fell in love with the law.” Emily was about to interrupt, but her father silenced her with a hand. “Law is in our blood. You can’t escape it, anymore than you can those Thatcher eyes.”

Emily rolled her green eyes protest and leaned back into the sofa, her arms crossed at her chest. Her father continued. “Besides, I can’t have you half way across the country in Boston when I’m running a campaign. I need my family near me during the next few months. I want you to be near us every step of this race.” Emily’s silence seemed deafening only to herself. “I can’t win without my family.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell. She wanted to point out his selfishness. He would sacrifice his daughter’s dream so he could fulfill his own political ambition. You need me Dad so I look perfect and cute in every photo op for the next twelve months. You need me Dad so people can say what a terrific father you are. You need me to smile in very ad campaign so that everyone will know you are William Thatcher III, family man. Despite the conflicting emotions, Emily Thatcher simply nodded, trying to keep bottled all the emotion that threatened to rise to the surface.

“That’s my Em.” William Thatcher ran a hand over his daughter’s soft blond hair before kissing her forehead.

“Em. Emily. Hello.”

Kristin’s voice broke Emily out of her thoughts. “Yeah,” she responded.

“Wasn’t that like the most disrespectful thing anyone has ever done to you?” Kristin repeated her question.

“I...” Emily had to search her memory banks quickly to figure out what Kristin was talking about. Right, the spitting guy.

“Why are you so out of it? You haven’t said more than five words all morning.” Jamie held a palm over Emily’s forehead. “You’re not sick are you?”

“I’ve got a test second period. I’m kinda worried.” Emily lied. She had no intention of telling her friends what was really bothering her. They would never understand.

“There’s no way anyone can flunk outta high school,” Jamie said flippantly.

“Jamie’s right. You’ll be fine.”

“Didn’t you like already get into the University of Wisconsin? So, who the hell cares about a test score? It’s not like they’ll revoke your admission cause you got a C on some stupid history test.”

“I guess your right...I...”

“We’re always right. You know that’s why you love us.”

Kristin pointed at the clock above the school seal and gestured that they should get moving. “So did you hear about Tina? She’s narrowed the suspects down to three people....and I don’t think her boyfriend is one of them.”

“What a fucking slut...I mean how much sex can a person have...”

“Apparently a lot...do you ...know that....”

Emily lagged a few steps behind. She didn’t know why but she felt like it was going to be one of those days.

She didn’t like the feeling.

Her flat heels made a distinctive clicking sound as she walked up and down the small aisle separating the rows of desk in the dark blue classroom. Miss Reiser, in her white button up blouse and gray wool slacks, pushed up on the rims of her wire frames. Her distinguished look made up for the fact that she looked like she could easily pass for one of the students taking the test. She continued her ritual pre-test pep talk. “There should be nothing here that should come as any shock. If you read the assigned reading and kept up on your homework, this should be a walk in the park. It goes without saying, eyes on your own paper, at all times and if I catch anyone cheating, it is an automatic failure on the exam and in the course. Got it.” She looked above her head at the clock on the wall. “You have forty minutes to complete this test. Starting now.” There was a loud rustling of papers as all thirty students in the room turned over their exams simultaneously. “Good luck, ladies and gentleman.” And with that the test had begun.

Nell tapped her pen along the edge of her desk as she breezed through the fifteen multiple choice questions. This could be her lucky day after all. She was stopped dead in her track however when she read the essay question: It has been said that the World War II was enviably considering the after effects of World War I. Compare and contrast the events leading up the WWI and WWII. Please be as specific as possible to justify or argue against this claim. Come on think! We went over this last night. Nell tapped the pen furiously against her desk garnering some annoyed looks from those around her. Miss Reiser walked past her desk and placed a palm over her tapping hand before taking off Nell’s knit cap with her other hand. Miss Reiser leaned down and whispered in Nell’s ear, “Come on... nothing to be too nervous about....” She smiled and proceeded up the row to on routine cheat patrol. Nell took a long breath and began to write. Once her first sentence was down, she had a clear direction.

On the other side of the dimly lit classroom, Emily watched as the minutes ticked away on the clock. She had finished the last multiple choice question over five minutes ago. Now, she just stared at the essay question not knowing how to begin or whether she fully understood the question. A few times she wrote a few words down, immediately crossing them out when she knew she was headed in the wrong direction. She could only hope the answer came to her soon and fast.

===========================

“So how was your test, honey?” Patrick tossed his bright orange tray onto the lunch table, a bowl of jello and a carton of milk its only contents.

Nell finished writing the last words into her notebook and promptly closed it knowing Patrick probably wouldn’t shut his mouth for a few minutes. “I see you decided to skip out...again.”

“Wouldn’t have made much difference. Would have flunked away and I’m flunking now, so why waste my valuable time.” Patrick slurppered up the red jello cubes from between his fingers. He noticed Nell’s jello sat there untouched. “You gonna eat that.”

Nell tossed the bowl onto his tray and said, disgusted, “god, use a spoon.”

“Why do you care so much,” he asked licking the red, sticky film off his fingers.

“Cause watching you is grossing me out.”

“No man, about school. Who the fuck cares about stupid, fucking test about dead people thousands of miles away? That ain’t gonna help you in the real world. Like some is going ask you on a job interview, ‘do you know the exact sequence of events that lead to the outbreak of World War II.’ I don’t ever see that happening.”

Nell shrugged, not really knowing why she cared either. “If I’m gonna do something, might as well do it right. It meant something to my mom that I get an education.” She shrugged again, looking down at her barely touched tuna surprise.

“Oh.” Patrick knew once Nell mentioned anything about her mom, the conversation was over and the subject was closed. He quickly complied with that rule and changed the topic of conversation. “You wanna waste your time reading books and shit, be my guest. The only thing I read are lyrics sheets. And they be all the education I need, man.”

“Ahmm.... they be... well, maybe when you ‘gets’ your high school diploma, you’ll change your tune.”

“Your sarcasm cuts me.” Patrick hit a flat palm against his chest and looked pained. “Oh, man I almost forgot...my Dad said we got the basement on Thursday night if we wanna rehearse. I know you work and all, but we could crank out some tunes for like a couple a hours after like seven til like eleven or so. I was thinking we could practice some Deep Purple, maybe a little Motorhead, some Sabbath.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Nell cracked her knuckles. “Always up for some finger action.” She smiled, her playful, lop-sided grin.

“I love it when you talk dirty. You know it gets me hot.” Patrick stuck out his tongue and winked.

God, men are so easy. “Navarro. A warm breeze is enough to get you hot.”

“Only when you’re blowing.” Patrick smiled. “Now, as much as I’d like to lose myself in this deep conversation, I’ve got business to take care of.” Patrick fished through the inside pocket of his coat and came up with a cigarette. He promptly put the butt on his ear. “I’d ask you to enjoy me, but I know you’d rather pick out your own eyeballs with an ice pick.”

Nell leaned in and replied, “Navarro, you know me so well.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“With bells.”

Patrick had only taken two steps when a tall, lean body stopped him dead in his tracks. “You are fucking dead,” the sandy-haired, visibly angry jock yelled as he pushed Patrick back three steps. “Dead, you fucking asshole.”

“Hey, Ethan, man... lay off the ‘riods man. What the fuck is your problem?” Patrick backed into the table.

“My problems is that you spit on my girlfriend this morning.”

“Oh man, you gotta be more specific than that ... man, I spit on like twelve people this morning.” Patrick grinned arrogantly. One of Patrick’s more self-destructive aspects was that his mouth worked faster than his brain.

Ethan grabbed Patrick by the coat collar. “You fucking ....”

Nell sprung into action. She hopped over the table separating her from the action in two short steps, and put herself between Ethan and Patrick. Ethan backed off a step when he realized who had intervened on Patrick’s behalf. Nell’s cool blue eyes pierced into Ethan’s face. Her gaze was unwavering, determined and almost pleaded with Ethan to take step in her direction, if he dared. Her look was enough to make him back off a couple of more steps. “Have we got a problem here?” she said softly and calmly.

The lunch room had grown silent. A few people had begun to crowd around the scene.

“I don’t wanna any fucking trouble from you, okay.” Ethan said, his body taking on a more relaxed stance. “I just wanna teach this fucking prick a lesson.”

Nell crossed her long arms over her chest and widened her stance. “Well, this fucking prick is with me, so any lesson plans have to meet with my approval first.” Nell smiled, knowing she now had full power over the situation. “I know my friend is an asshole, but if you kill him, well, you leave me no fucking choice than to kill you. So, unless you don’t have an intimate relationship with your balls and prefer that they no longer are attached to your body, I suggest you leave my friend here alone.”

Suddenly, a befuddled and slightly overweight teacher burst through the lunch room doors. “What is going on here,” he asked, the small crowd parting around the three individuals in the corner of the room. When no answer were forthcoming, he repeated his question, his tone more aggressive. “I asked what is going on here.”

Nell’s calm voice addressed the hanging question in the silent room. “Nothing sir. Just a minor disagreement among friends.” She flashed a smile and watched as Ethan took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry, sir if you were alarmed. But there isn’t a situation anymore.”

Without waiting for an answer from the still befuddled teacher, Nell gathered her things, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and walked slowly toward the side exit door, her black steeled-toed boots making a distinctly powerful noise. Patrick following behind her. She knew hundreds of pairs of disbelieving eyes were looking directly at her, everyone now forming their own version of what just happened. Surely by three o’clock, she would be the fucking, dangerous freak who pulled a knife on the star wrestler’s private parts. A small part of her looked forward to those scared looks.

As she pushed open the door with her backside, however, she caught a pair of green eyes looking at her, through her. She was amazed to feel a slight bit of disappointment and almost a hint sadness when she realized those eyes now looked at her with fear. It felt like someone had just punched her in the gut. Quickly, her misty blue eyes looked down at the tiled floor again. She wondered why she cared so much, and it scared her when she realized it did.

==========================

Walking through the abandoned school parking lot still covered in a layer of snow, Nell hit him again on the shoulder. “Why do you have to be such an fucking asshole? God!” She tucked her arms as far into her jacket as she could.

“Ohm.” Patrick held his shoulder with one hand and took another drag from his cigarette with the other. Her hand still hurt through his layers of clothing. “Okay, how was I supposed to know I was spitting in the direction of some girl this crazy, bad-ass jock is banging.”

“You know if you had manners, maybe I wouldn’t have to bail your ass out all the time. I’m getting sick of your shit,” Nell’s voice rose an octave. Patrick knew she was pissed. It was time to run for cover. “Just act like a fucking human being for a day. Can you do that?” She paused in the middle of the parking lot and lifted her hands over her head. “I know you can. I see glimpse of your fucking potential.” Patrick walked a few paces past her, his head looking at the ground. “Listen, just forget it. Next time, I’ll join him in kicking your ass.”

“Thanks,” Patrick finally muttered after a few moments of silence.

Nell recognized his tone. She knew she had gotten her message across. “Buy me a Coke and we’re even.”

Patrick’s face softened, the tension in his jaw easing a bit. He took a final drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips and stomped the butt out with his shoe. “Is that my life is worth? A fucking Coke.” He blew the smoke from the side of his lips with purpose. He reached into his pocket again and took out another cigarette. Nell grabbed the lighter from his hand and flicked it open, lighting the cigarette end.

“Your life. Refreshment,” Nell weighted the options with her hands, her fingers fumbling with the lighter, and finally, let her hands pause for a second at the same level. “That sounds about right.” She tossed the lighter back in Patrick’s direction and gingerly captured the hanging cigarette from his lips and took a quick drag. As the smoke escaped her lips, she said, “This stuff will fucking kill you.” She put the butt back between his lips and smiled.

They continued walking. “Yeah, well, life will kill you eventually. I’m just ending it on my own terms.” Patrick sat down against the brick building that marked the end of the student parking lot and the beginning of the girls gym. His legs crossed in front of him, he began, “you know Campbell, you gotta teach me how you do that shit.” The words escaped his mouth without his lips really moving.

Nell slid down the wall next to him. “What?”

“That ‘don’t fuck with me or you’ll be eating your own balls’ look.” Patrick tried to imitate the look, failing miserably.

“I don’t...”

“Yes, you do.” Patrick nodded. “Man, you had that damn boy practically dumping bricks in his pants.” He took another long puff. “No one else in school can pull the shit you pull. I’m just glad you’re on my side. That’s all.”

“I don’t think anyone else will have me on their team.” Nell drawn her legs against her chest and rested her head on her knees. “And I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do...”

“No...I...don’t.” She emphasized each word by hitting against the shoulder.

“Fuck, Campbell. I’m going be sore all fucking night.”

“Fucking baby.” She swatted him against his head. He pushed her back. Just another typical day in their friendship.

==========================

Nell closed her book, the ink barely dry on the last word. Nell had written dozens of poems and lyrics in her sacred notebook over the past few years and many of them were about love, longing and loss. For the first time, however, these words had living image as a source of inspiration. The words magically escaping her mind like they were placed there by some higher force. Not that she believed in any of that.

Nell had been thinking about her for days.

She had noticed her before, but this was the first time she actually took a long look. It was the first time she actually saw her. Nell bit her lip, closed her tired eyes and banged her head back against the wall. Her long black hair fell around her face. She hoped these feelings would go away. It wasn’t anything she could readily put into words, although she had been trying all night, but there was something about her. Apart of her was convinced she was the only one who could see the intense sadness behind those bright green eyes, and perhaps, she would be the one to cure it. Oh, Campbell, you aren’t getting all romantic are you? How was she supposed to handle this new development?

Tossing her notebook onto her cluttered floor, Nell plopped down on her bed, bouncing up and down for good measure. She buried her head into her pillow, thoughts still swimming in her head, and smiled as one thought raced through her head before she went to sleep, Mom was right... life can change in an instant.

==========================

“Just please take me home.” Emily put her hands on Ethan’s chest, slowly shoving him back into the driver’s seat.

“It’s early.” Ethan’s lips refused to part with Emily’s skin. “Come on.” His soft lips nuzzled her below the jaw line.

“I just want to go.”

Ethan relented. He kissed her once more on her cheek and sat back. “What’s wrong, Em? Huh.” His firm fingers caressed her forehead. It was comforting. “You’ve been acting all weird all night.” His soft traced the arch of her eyebrow. “Come to think of it, you’ve been acting all weird for a while now.”

“It’s nothing, all right. I’m fine. Things are fine. Could you just take me home,” Emily replied, her tone indicated the conversation was over.

Ethan could be every stubborn. “If you don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to do any talking, sweety...” He leaned in for another kiss, but was stopped by Emily’s hand. “Okay, okay. I’ll take you home. It’s just that we don’t have much time left with each other, you know. A few months of school, than the summer and than ... I’m not saying it’ll be over once we go off to college, but long distance relationships are tough. There’ll always be temptation...”

“I know.” Emily’s body relaxed a bit. She turned to face him. “I don’t want to waste these months either. There are just some things going on in my head that I need to work out.”

“I’m always here,” he whispered as he leaned again and kissed on just above her small nose. “Always.”

“I know. And I love you for that really.” Ethan smiled and reached over to touch her knee before putting the car into drive.

==========================

Her world was spinning wildly out of control. That was the only way to describe it.

Nothing seemed real any more.

Emily’s soft footfall across her wooden bedroom floor was the only indication of life, of her life. Tossing her purse across the room, Emily dove into bed, her expensive light purple sweater becoming severely wrinkled in the process. She found she didn’t really care. Her blond hair fell into her face as her makeup felt heavy against her skin, and her tired limbs curled into a ball. She reached over, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, and wiped off the red lipstick. Alone her spacious and tastefully decorated room, she stared at the high ceiling and wondered what was going on inside her head.

The things in her life that once brought her joy now seemed painfully hollow. Friendships, relationships, school life and family life all seemed like one agonizingly long play where everyone knew their part except for her and, more importantly, where she was the only actor who realized the play wasn’t reality. She was no longer the person everyone expected her to be. She was no longer suited for the roles she was given. She wasn’t the shy, polite daughter who smiled when given a complement. She wasn’t the attentive, affectionate girlfriend who laughed at every dumb joke. Nor was she the sympathetic friend who gossiped about everyone and everything as if it was the most important thing in the world. But without these identities, the last thing Emily Thatcher felt like was Emily Thatcher.

Her therapist would probably say she was having an identity crisis; if she had a therapist that is. But Daddy’s little girl in therapy wouldn’t never reflect well in the media. What would they say? Bad parent? Bad role model? Bad Senator! Daddy had to be perfect in everything, after all. Emily knew, however, talking to someone about her problem wouldn’t do any good anyway. As it was, Emily could barely understand the feelings she was having. It felt like she was on a boat floating away from shore while her family and friends looked on, but instead of trying to save her, they just waved. It wasn’t like she could really talk about this to anyone. How do you tell your family and friends that you just don’t feel like yourself? That you don’t even know what ‘yourself’ is supposed to feel like anymore.

As the days wore on, Emily looked forward to getting away from Alexandria; even if it was to the University of Wisconsin. Away from the people who claimed to know her best, she felt like she could finally develop something worth getting to know. Emily needed to get away from crushing expectations and overbearing ideals. She closed her eyes tightly when she thought about college. A voice inside her head taunted, “and how are you supposed to escape expectations when every third building at that damn school is named after a family member?” She sighed, exhausted by all the thoughts in her head.

Emily turned over onto her stomach and fell asleep in her clothes.

==========================

“As you can tell by my face,” her lips drooped down. “I’m every disappointed. And if couldn’t tell, maybe you should be paying closer attention.” Her heels clicking on the ground, Miss Reiser let a stack of papers drop on her desk before sitting down. “This test was supposed to be relatively straight forward. There was nothing here that was designed to make you fail or trip you up, but when over fifty percent of the class gets below a C, any well trained educator would realize there is a problem.”

She slowly crossed her arms over her chest and continued. “I know I challenge you guys. I know I push you hard. My goal isn’t to be the bad guy, but to get you to think about the material in different ways. I know you’ll probably never be asked about the causes of World War II in a job interview or the points outlined in League of Nations, but that doesn’t mean this stuff isn’t worth knowing.”

Miss Reiser pushed up onto her feet again and took a few steps forward. “I don’t want to fail anyone, but I won’t pass anyone who I feel isn’t pulling their weight. So... I think I’ve come up with a fair solution.” A few groans stirred through the classroom. “Oh, relax, you might even enjoy this. I will let you guys design a project. It can be a paper, a presentation, whatever, just as long as it has something to do with the world war period. The project will be due four weeks from today with the project topic, which will be approved by yours truly, due by the end of this week.

“And finally here is the part that I think you will find the easiest to swallow...if you get anything B and above on this project, you will erase you last exam grade, if it was completely disastrous, and you will be waived from the course midterm.” The atmosphere of the room changed when informed of this aspect of the deal.

“You will be split off into groups of two, selected by me, and it will be your responsibility to coordinate with your partner outside of class time.” Miss Reiser thumbed through her stack of paper and came up with thirty photocopies. She handed them to Walter, a student in the first row. “These are your assigned partner. And before anyone asks, no, you can’t switch partners. Now are there any questions?”

A small student with short black hair raised his hand. But before he could even speak a syllable, Miss Reiser addressed him, “and NO! Raiders of the Lost Ark is not subject for study.”

The student put is hand down and said, half jokingly, “It has Nazis in it.”

“Now, take a look at the sheet being handed around. These people will be your best friends for the next month so you better learn to live with it.” Miss Reiser approached the black board and erased the stray words written in chalk by the last class to use the room. “I’ll end class about twenty minutes early to hand back the test and let you get acquainted with your partners. But for now, please open your textbooks to page 254. The formation of the United Nations...”

Her fingers went numb. She stopped hitting her pen against the side of her notebook. If Nell was standing up, she probably would have lost her balance. If Nell had been a vocal person, she would have screamed. But instead, Nell stared at the impossibly bold, typed letters for what seemed like an eternity, hoping that it was just some horrible mistake or some sick, weird dream. But the more she stared, her blue eyes becoming wider, the more she realized, this was no dream. “CAMPBELL, NELL // THATCHER, EMILY”

Putting the white sheet down, she risked a quick glance in Emily’s direction. Her vibrant fair hair fell across her straight shoulders. She was wearing those particularly tight black jeans again. Nell was nothing if not observant. She seemed engrossed in her textbook, her hand gracefully gliding across the paper at the same time.

Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

And Fate was now teaching 12th grade History.

==========================

Putting her cap back on her pen, Nell tried not to notice her slow, awkward approach.

“Hi,” she said, in almost a whisper.

“Hey yourself,” Nell countered, her voice in the same low tone. Nell leaned back against her chair, looking more relaxed than she felt. She could always play the role of someone who just didn’t give a fuck.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” Her voice was now calm and clear. This was interesting. “I’m....”

Before Emily could extend her hand, Nell put a hand to stop her arm from moving any further. She shook her head and smiled. “There’s no need to be formal around me.” Nell let go of her arm. She wondered why she just did that. Maybe she just wanted to know what her skin felt like. Fuck, this was going to be a long four weeks! “Just isn’t my style,” she said softly, her hands now rested comfortably inside her jacket pockets. She motioned for Emily to take a seat in the empty chair next to her. Emily hesitated for a moment, playing nervously with her fingers. “Don’t worry, I don’t usually bite people. I need to get to know them first.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Emily repeated, her nervous, awkward energy returning. She had yet to look at Nell directly in the face yet. “I’m being silly.”

“Silly is good. Better than being scared.” Turning to face her project partner, Nell eyed her thoughtfully and than slowly mouthed the word “boo.”

Emily smiled, feeling slightly relieved that Nell was trying to make her feel at ease by making fun of her own reputation. She moved hair away from her face. “I was never scared.”

“Well, maybe you should be. I can be very scary when I want to be.” Nell’s eyebrows wiggled up and down, becoming more comfortable in her cocky air. She loved to feel in control, especially when her emotions felt so out of control. If she acted on her impulse, she would have run screaming from the room the moment Emily took a step in her direction.

Her green eyes full of amusement, Emily countered, “so can I.”

Nell looked directly into those big green eyes and searched her face for a few moments. “I believe that,” she answered. “I see the bit of the devil behind that wool or cashmere...” Nell cocked her head towards the front of the room. Miss Reiser was watching her students talk among themselves. “I suppose we should be laying the groundwork for this project now, huh?”

“I guess we should. I have no ideas, though.” Emily folded her hands together, placing them in her lap.

“Ditto.”

“What would be a good time for you to meet about this? Outside of class time,” she said, her voice holding a veil layer of sarcasm.

“I’m usually free at nights, weekends, early mornings. I’m relatively flexible. Whatever you want, just name the time, place. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Emily opened her notebook and wrote quickly. She tore the piece and handled to Nell. “There’s my number. Maybe we could meet tonight or something.”

Silently marveling at how Emily wrote the number six, Nell simply nodded as she stuffed the paper into her breast pocket. The bell rang, and like trained animals, everyone raced out of the room. “So, call me when you’re free.” Emily slid off the chair, quickly gathering her things.

Nell watched her nervous movement with amusement before venturing to ask the question, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Emily turned around knowing exactly what Nell was asking. “You’re not. Crazy, I mean.”

Nell rose from her chair, her frame rising inches above Emily’s head. “I don’t know. I still could surprise you.” Once again thrusting her hands into her pockets, Nell walked passed her. “See you tonight.”

==========================

Leaning back against the lime green wall, just beyond the two loading docks, Nell tapped her short fingernails against the public pay phone, hoping she had dialed the right number. She picked up on the third ring. “Hello.”

Nell swallowed trying to find her voice. She hated talking on the phone. “Hey...Emily. Ahm, it’s..ah...Nell.”

“Hey, yourself.” There was a crackled giggle on the end. Nell was relieved that there was an ease in her tone. “How are things going,” Emily asked politely.

“Can’t complain. Still breathing. Everything else is just incidental.” Nell sighed.

After a momentary pause, Emily asked, “a-ha. So, how was the incidental stuff?”

Nell laughed, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Emily. “Good.”

“Not much for words are you,” Emily observed.

“I try to get my point across in ten words.” Nell imagined Emily counting the words on the other end.

“I can see what you mean. So, I guess an oral report would be out of the question.”

“When there’s something important to say, I’ll say it.” Nell looked down at the ground, digging the tip of her shoe into the concrete floor.

“Well, that’s good to know.”

After a moment of silence, Nell asked, “do you want to get together tonight?” The words seemed rather laughable as they echoed through Nell’s head. She knew they would be a source of amusement for months to come. She hoped Emily didn’t notice how the words seemed forced out of her throat.

Emily sighed. “I thought you were going to call earlier. It’s pretty late.”

Nell looked at her watch and then at the glowing clock of the diner across the street. “It’s only nine. What do you have to get early to milk the cows?”

“I’ve got an early curfew.”

“Okay, I can come by and we can work at your...”

“Well, my parents don’t really like when I have company after 8pm.”

Nell wondered if this was all some elaborate excuse to keep Emily from having to be seen with or around her in any kind of public sphere. “Can you get patrolled from that place for good behavior at least?”

“I’m sorry. My parents are a little overprotective.”

“Don’t apologize.” Nell held her forehead, her thoughts forming a plan. She snapped her fingers. “Does your house have a porch?”

“What kind of a question...”

“Do you have a porch, a deck, a balcony?”

“Yeah, a porch but...”

“Okay, stick your head out of your room in fifteen minutes.”

“You’re not going to....”

“Rules are meant to be broken. And if you won’t, I will. Remember fifteen minutes.”

“Do you know where I live?”

“No but, shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.” Nell hung up the phone and took off her red smock. Quickly, she gathered her things from her employee locker and slammed it closed. She ran toward the exit, but returned seconds later to punch out.

==========================

Emily looked in the mirror for a few moments, pushing her hair back away from her face. She hiked up her sweat pants passed her hips and onto her stomach. She folded over the fabric, trying to keep the material from bunching over her ankles. Finally, she smoothed over some of the wrinkles in her baby blue t-shirt. She wondered why she even cared what she looked like, but she did care. Turning her intense scrutiny back to her hair, she decided the only way to remedy the perceived mess was to put her long, blond hair into a ponytail.

She looked at her watch. Five minutes. And one more important detail to see to.

Her feet slipped over the smooth wood as she ran down the stairs and turned into the family room. Decorated a warm red and gold, the room was dimly lit by the glow of the television set. Emily watched as her parents sat silently on the couch, engrossed in an episode of Great Performances on PBS.

Quietly, Emily approached. She knew she had to sell this. She also knew she was no good at lying. She had to rely on half truth, just conveniently leave out the part where a stranger from school who might be just a tad bit dangerous will climb into your bedroom window and stay way past curfew. Piece of cake. She was startled from her thoughts when her father deep, assured voice rose from the darkness. “Emily, can you name this piece?” He turned around and smiled at his daughter, the laugh lines around his eyes still visible in the low light. “It’s from an opera,” he hinted.

Her thoughts raced. Opera was the very last thing on her mind. “Verdi,” she guessed.

“No, but close, honey.” Elizabeth Thatcher, shifted on the couch and passed an appraising eye over her daughter. “Stand up straight baby.” Her mother motioned with her hands to push her shoulders back. “You used to have such nice posture when you were taking ballet.” Elizabeth buried her hand in her short blond hair and held up her head with her palm.

“I’m sorry, my brain is...” Emily shook her head, failing to complete her train of thought. “I’m not up to trivia today, Dad.” Keep focused on the issues, Emily thought to herself. She glanced down at her watch. “I’ll be up in my room studying...for the rest of the night,” she ended hurriedly. “I have to catch up on some reading...” When the words actually registered, when she realized what she had just said, she could have hit herself. And she knew exactly what her father would say.

“Catch up? Why were you falling behind.” Oh, her father never disappointed.

Emily quickly uttered, “math.” It’s sorta of true. “I’ve been devoting most of my time to calculus these days.”

“Okay, dear,” her mother sighed. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t mom.”

“Well, we’ll probably be turning in soon, too. Dad has got a meeting with his advisors in the morning and I’ve got three client meetings back to back.”

“Okay.” It’s always about work, isn’t it?

“Oh, and one more thing honey,” her father asked. So much for the clean getaway. “If you’re going to get a snack or water, please get it now. The creaking stairs.” He motioned to the wide staircase. “Your mother had to have a house with old, wooden stairs.” He lightly tickled his wife’s feet.

“Sure, sure.”

Moments later, Emily breathed an audible sigh of relief. She had safely made it back to her room with two bottles of water and two golden delicious apples. Slowly, opening the window overlooking the front yard, she stuck her head out. The moonless night was cold. She ran her hands over the exposed skin on her arms. Her teeth chattered. The soft glow of the porch lights made the front yard barely visible to her eyes. She looked at her watch again and silently whispered, “where are you,” the vapor escaping her mouth, emphasizing each word.

Camouflaged by her dark clothing, Nell emerged from behind the oak tree, touching the suspended tire swing as she approached. Cautiously, she walked towards the brightly lit window and nodded a hello up to Emily’s smiling, tense face. Emily stuck her torso out the window and waved back. Nell raised a single finger to her lips and motioned for Emily to get back into the room. Her eyes traveling to all points around her, Nell watched for any movement in the front windows. She could see the dim flicker of a television in the far corner of the house, but the coast seemed clear. She looked at the task ahead of her, formulating a plan of attack. She had faced tougher enemies. Cracking her knuckles and her neck, Nell was ready.

With a single deep breath, Nell ran up to the porch and jumped, her joints popping as they hit the front end of the porch wood. She climbed up the front wooden beam, using a support beam as a ladder, and digging her fingers into the rain gutters above her head. Using her height and the strength in her thighs, she pushed off the beam and pulled herself up onto the porch’s roof. Her legs swung around feet from the hard ground below for a few seconds before she hooked her foot onto the gutter and made one final pull. She carefully balanced herself on top of the shingled structure and finally, ran straight up to Emily’s second floor window, collapsing onto the window’s ledge.

Slightly out of breathe, Nell whispered, “what a rush!”

“You are crazy, do you know that?” Emily whispered back, her head level to the window.

“It’s only crazy if you get caught and...” Nell climbed into the open window, falling down, head first, onto the bedroom floor. “And down right stupid if you get hurt. I think I destroyed some shingles on the way up.” Her long body hit the floor, making a loud thump. She looked up and toward the bedroom door. “Fuck! Sorry.” She slowly rose to her feet and dusted herself off. She looked at her dirty, black fingers and asked, “do you have a tissue or something?”

Emily pointed toward the door on her immediate right. “You can use the bathroom.”

Walking deeper into the large room, Nell tried to take it all in. The high ceilings were painted a bright white, while the four walls had wallpaper with yellow and cream flowers. In one corner of the room, a high bookcase built into the wall, had several stuffed animals adorning the shelves as bookends, along with what seemed like hundreds of hardcover books and several trophies. Next to that was a small desk with a computer and scattered pieces of paper occupying its top. A small bureau stood on the opposite end, a few dozen make-up products made the table top seem colorful. A mirror with assorted photos taped to its edges rested on top of the bureau. Emily’s sleigh bed stood between the bedroom door and the bathroom door. It was decorated in the same yellow as the wallpaper. Finally, opposite the bed, a sizable television set with a VCR and stereo speakers, rested on top of a oak entertainment center. Nell suspected there was probably more electronic equipment inside. And this is how the other half lives, Nell thought to herself. “Nice room,” Nell whispered.

She slowly bent down to untie her scuffed boots and quietly slipped them off her feet. “I just don’t want to track shit all over your room.” Nell dropped her book bag off her shoulders and went inside the bathroom.

She emerged moments later drying her hands on her faded black jeans and tossing her jean jacket over her backpack. Her gray t-shirt had the word “RIFF” on the front, written in black magic marker. “Your parents,” Nell asked.

“I told them I would be studying all night,” Emily whispered. “I think they’ll be getting ready for bed soon.”

“Oh. So, why are we still whispering?”

Emily smiled. “I don’t know.” Emily sat down on the edge of her bed and leaned back, her arms supporting her weight. In a normal voice, she asked, “so is climbing into second floor bedrooms a god-given talent or did you develop it somewhere?”

Nell leaned up against the wall. “I’ve had practice,” she replied with a lazy grin. “My best friend back home, she ... she had a bedroom on the second floor. I used to climb in for fun. At all hours, even when I was welcome to walk through the front door. I like a challenge.”

“Back home? Where’s home?”

“Cault Heights.” Nell took note of the assorted family pictures on Emily’s nightstand. One particularly caught her interest, it was one of her parents and a youthful Emily smiling brightly. It looked like it was taken by a professional photographer. “It’s about forty miles outside of Grand Rapids.” Gently passing the hand over the silver frame, Nell took the portrait in her hands for a few moments, and than tossed a steady, unnerving glance at Emily’s confused face. She set the photo back down and said, “You have your father’s eyes.” Walking around the bed and feeling slightly naked without her boots, she stopped in front of the bookcase and ran a finger along the book spines. “Nice collection.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost four years.” A title, the Complete Works of Emily Dickenson, caught her interest. She opened it, slowly glancing at the pages. “I live with my dad and my granddad.”

“Must have been tough leaving everything and everyone behind. Why did you....”

Shutting the book between her hands, Nell looked up. “Is this session of twenty questions over?”

“I’m sorry. I ... just...” Emily played with her fingers, searching for the right words.

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for wanting the truth... for being honest.” Nell put the thick volume back into the book shelf, shoving her hands in her pockets as she walked away from the shelves. “I’m just not ready to be that honest.” Nell shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “And quit being so nervous.”

“I’m not...” Emily giggled.

Nell approached the bed and motioned toward Emily’s hands. “You play with your fingers when you’re nervous. You seem to do it an awful lot when we’re together.” Emily looked up surprised. “I notice these things.”

“I’m sorr...I mean... I am. Nervous.” Emily looked down. “Honestly.” She looked back up into Nell’s smiling face.

“Good. Well, don’t be. I only kill people who are jerks and pricks. I don’t think you would ever fall into either category.”

“Oh!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you don’t know me.”

Nell nodded. “I don’t. I don’t. But I don’t think anyone knows you. Am I right?” Emily’s light eyebrows came together. Her lips seemed like they wanted to speak but nothing came out. “Honestly, no one knows me either. Some days, not even me. But I don’t listen to what other people tell me I am.” Emily fell silent. She continued to look at a certain spot on the floor. “The road to self-doubt is paved with expectations.”

Nell noticed Emily’s increasing discomfort. She walked over and dropped to one knee, trying to get Emily to look her in the eye. “I think... I have....” she let a breath escape. “I‘m sorry.”

Emily’s face softened. “I don’t believe it....you know...all the things people say about you.”

Nell looked away this time before dropping down and sitting on the floor indian style in front of the bed. “I can be a very dangerous person. Do you know I once cut off a guys dick to watch him die?” Nell curled her hands into fists and smiled. “Just kidding.” She put her hands down. “I just don’t want to play by any bullshit rules. I want to be myself, even if I don’t know what that is quite yet.” Nell bent her knee forward and leaned her elbow against it. “And that makes me dangerous. Scary. People will spend the rest of my life trying to get me to follow rules. And I’ll spend the rest of my life challenging those rules. That’s the only way to make the rules change.” Nell shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t want to lecture.”

“It’s okay. Some of us need to good talking to.” Emily bit her lip and then said, “and I got you to say more than ten words.” Emily could feel herself begin to let go of her anxiety.

The silence, however, was becoming more pronounced. “War.”

“What?”

“War.” Nell grinned. “Maybe we should get down to business and talk about our project. Any thoughts suggestions?”

“Well, I was brain storming before you got here and ... I don’t know... is there anything you find interesting about it?”

Nell breathed hard. “You mean, besides the fact that millions of people died, political history was forever changed and we almost destroyed two cities with nuclear weapons, not really... there might be too any options for a project.”

Emily swung her legs around and bounced onto her stomach. “How about... the life of the average American before and after the war? Like you said, these years changed everything.”

“That’s definitely an idea we can work with. We can look at a cross-section of Americans. Women, men, people of different ethnic backgrounds.” Grabbing her backpack, Nell riffled through the large canvas bag and grabbed her notebook. “What information do we need to look at?” She hurriedly wrote down words on the first blank sheet of paper she could find.

“We can look at income, home life, work life. How the war effected population? I watched this PBS special a few years ago about how the first suburbs were the direct effect of soldiers coming back and buying houses with financial help from the government.”

“This is a great idea, you know. But how do we make it interesting? I don’t want to write a long, boring paper that just has a bunch of numbers about income and population.”

“We do need a thesis.”

“But this is definitely start.” Nell pointed at the apple sitting on the nightstand. Emily nodded. Nell polished in on her shirt and took a bite. “A great start.”

“Thanks.”

There was a sudden knock at the door. Without hesitation and with the apple hanging from her mouth, Nell dove onto the floor and under Emily’s bed. William Thatcher knocked again as he opened the door. “Hey honey, I just wanted to say good night.”

Trying to act as normal as possible, Emily continued to scribble words in her notebook, appearing disinterested in what her father had just said. “Ah, good night dad.”

“Sweet dreams honey. Don’t stay up too late.” William blew his daughter a kiss and smiled when she pretended to catch it. “You need more light in here, if you’re going to be reading.”

Emily nodded. “I’m going to sleep soon so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, good night then.” William closed the door quietly. Only when Emily was sure she had heard her father’s footsteps walk toward his side of the house did she look down underneath her bed. “That was close.”

Carefully, Nell slid out, still chewing on the piece of apple in her mouth, and kneeled by Emily’s side. “Maybe I should go. I don’t want to get you trouble.”

Before Emily could respond, Nell rose to her feet and put on her jacket. “What about breaking the rules?”

Nell smiled. “I don’t think you’re a ready to be a rebel quite yet.” Nell stuffed her book back into her backpack and slung it around her shoulder. “I’ll show myself out.”

“When can I see you again?” The words rushed out Emily’s mouth before she could stop them. “I mean....”

“I’ll be around. Just follow the looks of complete terror at school tomorrow.... if you do, you’ll find me...” Nell put one leg out of the window. “And hey, Emily, never apologize for being honest.” Taking a large bite of her apple, Nell disappeared.

Emily felt a rush of ....something...when she realized Nell Campbell had spoken her name for the first time. It would take her a long time to realize what that something was.

She was surrounded by her friends again. The tall, curvy brown-haired girl in black slacks, a shorter blond in a purple skirt circled around her like elders protecting the youngest of the pack or maybe more like wolves trapping their prey; she couldn’t be sure. She could hear the high pitched laughter enclose her as they walked by, echo through her, gradually fading away into wild arm movement and punctuated eye rolls as they moved further down the hall. She lagged a step behind, carrying her binder against her chest as if it were her shield. Her light hair was perfect. Her black chinos and green sweater were perfect. But she couldn’t help but notice the sadness again. It was there, behind her eyes, if only others would take the time to notice. She merely nodded or uttered a word here and there, but she wasn’t the same. She wasn’t herself. Nell smiled at this thought. You hardly know her, Campbell. As they approached the corridor steps, Ethan, decked out in her blue and yellow letterman jacket, came up behind her and grabbed her by the waist. A surprised giggle arose from her chest before she settled into his embrace. Then, she disappeared.

Nell hadn’t expected things to be any different. Two conversations didn’t amount to a whole hell of a lot. Emily Thatcher didn’t owe her anything. But, it bothered her. As much as she hated to admit it, it really bothered her. She slammed her locker shut, dragging her knuckles against the jagged wall as she walked to her next class.

The November sky was a cold, clear blue. The sun shone brightly overhead, but it did little to warm anything on the ground below. The crisp, biting air blew against her face the moment she stepped out into the parking lot. She walked along the chain link fence that separated the lot from the school football field. She would sometimes do this. Sometimes, she needed to be alone, away from the noise, the crowds and the insistent chatter. Silence gave her clarity. Ducking through a large hole in the fence, Nell walked slowly towards her usual spot underneath the bleachers. Curling her fingers into her jacket, she settled down onto the frigid ground, her head resting on a support beam.

Her father had insisted she take his jacket this morning. “You’ll catch your death,” he said, zipping up the brown leather coat despite her loud, stubborn protest. “We’ll go shopping this weekend. You need some sweaters. A coat.”

“Dad, I can go to that used clothing shop over on Adams. They’ve got nice stuff and its cheap.”

“No. No. I’ve got a little extra from pulling those double shifts last week. Maybe I can buy you a nice dress...”

Nell rolled her eyes, even though she knew her father was joking. “Yeah, me in a dress that’ll happen.”

He lowered the collar and squeezed her shoulders. “Damn thing looks better on you than it does on me.” He winked, his blue eyes shimmered for a moment.

The soft leather still smelled like him. It was comforting.

“Is this seat taken?” Her soft, blond hair was tucked behind her red ears. Emily’s green

v-neck sweater was doing little to keep her warm.

“Are you nuts? Coming out here like that!” Before she could process her thoughts, before she knew what she was doing, Nell quickly unzipped her jacket and draped it over Emily’s shoulders.

“What about you?” Emily asked, her teeth chatting slightly. She noticed Nell was only wearing a dark yellow, long-sleeved shirt that complemented her black jeans quite nicely. “Aren’t you...”

“I’ll live,” she replied, a shrug of her shoulders indicated her disinterest in the fact that it was about twenty-two degrees. Again, her instincts got the better of her, but this time she realized what she was about to do. Nell hesitated, her arm stopping in mid-motion. After a few seconds of quick contemplation, she took her hand and ran it along the back of Emily’s neck, startling her for a moment. She then slowly took Emily’s hair out of the jacket’s collar. “I’ve got long underwear on,” she continued softly, unsure if the goose bumps she felt along her arms were a result of the cold or the feeling of Emily’s soft, warm skin.

A cold breeze blew between them, tussling Nell’s dark bangs into her eyes. It took all of Emily’s willpower not to brush the thin locks away from her brow. “Thanks,” Emily muttered as Nell’s hand pulled away, a little disappointed it didn’t remain there any longer.

Too many emotions were running through her body to even begin to put a name to what she was feeling.

Nell smiled, satisfied that Emily did not seem nervous by her presence, but her face tensed a moment when she noticed how close she was standing, her mouth mere inches from Emily’s forehead. She shook off the feeling and took a step back before she settled back on the ground.

“Why are you out here?” Emily held the jacket tight against her body, silently marveling at how Nell could stand the unforgiving weather for even a second.

“Thinking. Waiting for next period to start.” Nell tucked her fingers inside her shirt. “Nothing special.”

“Do...do you want to be alone?”

“No. No. I... just..” Nell paused and looked at her companion, a smile gradually over- taking her face. “Just never had company before. No one dared,” she added after a moment.

“Oh,” was the only reply Emily could manage. She was always unnerved when Nell looked it her. It was like she was being looked at for the first time. There was an honesty behind those blue eyes that she could not escape.

“Where’s your gang,” Nell asked, a slight sarcasm in her tone.

“Around, I guess.” She looked down, her fingers playing with the jacket zipper. “We don’t keep tabs on each other all day, you know.”

“And what would they say if they found you out here with me? Heads would turn I’m sure.”

Emily smiled. “And what would your friends say? I don’t thinking hanging out with the president of the student council does much for your image as a rebel.”

“Ahh,” Nell raised her finger. “But your assuming my friend would care. Friend... singular, not plural.” She laughed, trying to picture Navarro ever having a problem with their budding friendship. Please, he would try to convince himself he had more of a shot with her. “He wouldn’t care. I assure you.”

“And I don’t care what my friends think... so... I think that makes things pretty even, don’t you?”

“I think it does,” she said with a grin.

“Can I ask you something,” she said quickly, her eyes staring off towards the school building.

“You just did.”

“Stop, you know what I mean.”

“That depends...on the question,” she answered with a sniffle.

“Is anything I heard about you true?” Emily released a deep breathe she didn’t even know she was holding. “I mean... there are so many stories...I just...”

Nell crossed on her arms over her chest, her body becoming more comfortable in its position. “It all depends on what you heard.”

“Well, I know the dick thing isn’t true...right.” She paused a moment to let Nell confirm this statement. After a few seconds of a neutral expression, she nodded slightly. “And I assume you didn’t sell your left kidney for a top of the line guitar and amp.”

“No, but don’t give me any ideas,” but replied, pointing a finger.

“What about jail time for assault? That has to be a lie...”

Nell didn’t know THAT story had gotten around. Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised. The “truth” or some person’s slanted view of the truth, always had a way of getting out. She took a deep breath and said, “half truth. I spent a night in jail for assault. The charges were dropped in the morning.”

“You did. Time for assault.” Emily was surprised. She struggled to comprehend what she had just heard. “But you...could neve...I mean...I..”

Nell swallowed. “It was about three months before we moved her. A teacher ... he was being a really asshole, you know... just a fucking, twisted prick...who believed in the dictator style of teaching... he was ruler... and you had no right to an intelligent opinion...” Nell paused and looked her feet. It seemed like it happened yesterday, but it was more than three years ago. “After a heated discussion about some stupid event in history or something, he said something about my mother... so I kicked him right in the nuts.” She chuckled a little bit at the memory of seeing old, balding Patterson fall onto his knees after gasping repeatedly for air. “He had me arrested, on top of being expelled, but the cops had some people come forward saying the teacher egged me on until I had no choice but to defend myself.” She shrugged her shoulders. “My dad decided maybe it was time for a change.. so we moved here.”

Emily was still confused. “But why.... what did he say about your mom?”

Nell lied. “I don’t really remember...” She could clearly hear his deep, raspy voice echo through her head... And maybe if your mother had killed herself, you could have learned about respect... for others and yourself .... you punk.

“It must have been something terrible if you reacted that way.” Emily was surprised by the strength of her reaction. In her heart, she knew, Nell would never hurt someone unless there was a good reason. She just wasn’t that type of person. Emily didn’t know why she made this assumption.

“Must have been,” she said playing with a loose threat on her sleeve.

“What did your mother say when she learned you defended her honor?”

“My mother’s dead,” she replied quickly. Nell was amazed at how detached the statement she just made sounded, but how much it still hurt. “She died when I was ten.”

“I’m...”

Nell interrupted, not letting her finish the phrase she had heard hundreds of times since the day of her mother’s funeral. “Don’t be sorry... there’s nothing to be sorry about. Everyone dies.” She gazed into those sympathetic, green eyes. “It was just her time. That’s all.”

Emily reached across and gently put a warm hand on Nell’s shoulder. She squeezed it slightly before pulling away. “But, it doesn’t make it any easier though.”

Nell resisted the overwhelming urge to touch the small, delicate fingers. “Yeah.” Unnerved, she rose from the ground and dusted herself off. “Yeah.” She repeated, growing more and more uneasy by the second as the level of intimacy between herself and the devastingly attractive president of the student council increased. She was losing her grip on any illusion of control. And she didn’t like it. “Well, I think I’ve .... got my wind chill tolerance for the day,” she said uneasy, unsure of where to put her hands. She finally hooked her thumbs on the back of her jeans.

Emily slipped the jacket off her shoulders, her body feeling its loss instantly. “Thank you.” She handed the brown leather back to its owner. “For being honest,” she added softly. “We’ve only got a day until we have to hand in our proposal. I’ve sort of been working on a draft. If you can climb up on to my room tonight, we could...ahm...”

“I can’t... not tonight,” she said with visible disappointment. “I’ve got practice.”

“What time,” she asked quickly.

“From like six to about eleven. This is the only night of the week I’ve got all that time free,” she said apologetically. “You could swing by... maybe we could get some work done...” She shrugged her broad, straight shoulders. She knew it was a dumb idea the moment it left her mouth, but what the hell. “It’ll be loud, but I’m sure the guys would let me slip away for like half an hour.”

“Where do you rehearse?”

“In the basement of Richard’s Record Stack. On Collins Ave.” Nell reached into her backpack and took out her notebook. She tore a piece of paper out and wrote down the street address and phone number.

“I’ll be by around seven. I can only stay ....”

“I know. Early curfew.”

“You say it with such disgust. I like it. See you.” Emily turned away and ran back into the school building. Moments later, the school bell rang. It took a few minutes, however, for Nell to realize it.

==========================

Nell was assaulted by the familiar aroma as soon as she stepped through the doorway. She inhaled the flavorful air before venturing into kitchen. The creaking door announced her presence known before she fully entered the room.

Standing over the small stovetop in the corner, her broad-shouldered grandfather stirred a bubbling pot. He bent over the rising steam and inhaled deeply. “If I knew you were coming home Ellie, I would have made more.” His clear, deep tone held a trace of an Irish accent.

Nell set down her backpack on the kitchen table and said, “I hope your joking.”

James Wallace turned around and looked at his tall, blossoming granddaughter. He smiled, his dimples covered by a two-day growth bread growth on his long, thin face. She was looking more and more like her mother everyday; the same striking eyes, the same high cheekbones, the same pointed nose. A momentary wave of sadness washed over him as he ended his comparison. A thought flashed across his mind’s eye, Damn it Colleen, you should be here! These thoughts were quickly swept away by Nell’s soft kisses on his cheek. He said, with a bit of the devil in his brown eyes, “You know I never know you’re schedule anymore. Rehearsal, work, school... who could keep track.” He raised in arms, a sign of his frustration.

Nell tried to get to the steaming pot. She wanted to sneak a taste. She loved her grandfather’s beef stew, and judging by the smell in the air and the ingredients on the counter, that pot held her favorite meal in the world. “So, you were going to eat all that by yourself.” He playfully swatted her hands away from the pot, positioning his body in front of the stove, but failed to secure the wooden spoon. She promptly picked the spoon from its resting position and licked off the thick, red sauce.

“Hey, I’m still a growing boy, you know.” His wide grin emphasized the laugh lines around his eyes. He grabbed the spoon from her hands. “Ellie. If you really want a bowl, I suggest you go wash up. It’ll be ready soon.” He pushed her away and towards the door. “Go. Go. Before I eat it all.”

She kissed him again before retreating back into the living room.

As she climbed the stairs, the phone rang. She bent over the railing and reached for the receiver on the desk. “Hello.”

“Hello. Hello.” A male voice echoed. “My god Whiz, are you like camped next to the phone or something? One ring.”

“Hello,” she said again, a wide smile spreading across her face. “And don’t get me started on the phone, Mr. ‘You can’t use the phone tonight ‘cause Debbie going to call me I know it’...”

“Whiz, that was two years ago. I’m just teasing you. It’s part of that big brother contract I signed when you were born.”

“Yeah, the one that also said you had the full right to torture me for the first seven years of my life.”

“Hey, I’ve got to have some fun,” he laughed on the other end. She realized how much she missed that sound in her life. “So, how’s life treating my little sis, huh? Of course, from those last pictures Dad sent, you ain’t so little anymore. I think I should start calling you Stretch or Lanky. Or how about Long Legs Campbell?”

“You do that. And you die.” She down on the stairs, tossing her backpack and jacket up the stairway.

He chuckled. “I know. I know. Two years of military training, man and you could still probably kick my ass.”

“Let’s test that theory when you come up to visit. For Christmas right...” There was a long pause on the other end. “Jeremy, you are still coming up right?”

“Whiz, I ... I don’t know...” He breathed heavily into the receiver. “This situation in the Gulf isn’t getting any better. The rumor around the grounds is that if things don’t get better in the next few weeks, we’ll .... probably ... be called into action.”

“But...”

“The CO’s have pretty much told us leave has been cancelled. Nothing’s official, but I can feel the tension in the barracks, you know... we all feel like a war is a real possibility now.”

Nell could her stomach turn in on itself. “Why?” She clutched the phone. “Why you?”

“Sis... I don’t want you or Dad to worry about this okay. Everyone here thinks if it does happen, it’ll be a quick campaign. In an offensive like this, they’ll need several armored division out on the line. We’ll need tanks to win this war. It’ll be okay, Whiz. Nothing is definite. Hussein will probably pull out with even a threat of military action. All right. Just... I just wanted you to know there’s a possibility...okay.” His calm, even noise helped ease her troubled thoughts. He was always the level-headed one. “So, is Dad home?”

She took a deep breathe. “No, I... I think he’s pulling a .. double shift again...just me and Pops..”

“Well send him my love.” There was a few loud shouts on the other end. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. This is what happens when you have three phones for three hundred people.” He laughed again. “I just wanted you to hear from me... before. Listen, just tell Dad and Pops, okay. I’ll call again.”

“I love you, Jeremy.”

“Love you, Whiz.” After a few seconds of his breathing, she got the dial tone. She held the phone for a few moments, wondering if things would really be okay. “Pops,” she called into the kitchen. “Jeremy just called.” And with a distinct sadness in her voice, she told him all he had just told her. Afterwards, James Wallace held his granddaughter, smoothing her long, dark lock behind her small ears, reassuring her things would be okay. He only hoped they would be.

==========================

She pushed a single pea back and forth on her plate trying to think of an appropriate answer to her father’s question. “I’m meeting my project partner. She... works so this is the only free night she has.” There’s no better way to conceal a lie than between two truths. She heard that once somewhere.

William Thatcher carefully wiped the sides of his mouth with a cloth napkin and set it down on his lap. “And where is this meeting of the minds taking place?”

And how did she know this question was coming. She sat back on her chair and said the first thing that came to her mind. “Farrell's.” The thought of Nell sitting in a booth at the local high school hang out among people who she would probably smack around given the chance was enough to put a small smile on her face. “We just have to exchange some ideas.” Is this the end of twenty questions?

Her father nodded, a signal that the question session had drawn to a close. Sipping on her glass of iced tea, Elizabeth Thatcher, however, kept the subject alive. “Who is this partner of yours? Do we know her?”

Emily quickly swallowed the piece of chicken in her mouth and said, “Ah, no. She’s new in town... her family moved her a couple of years ago.” Anyone who wasn’t born her would always be considered new in town.

“Oh... well, have her by the house. I’d love to meet this new friend of yours.”

“She not my friend,” Emily quickly replied with a little more force than was appropriate. “She’s just my ... my project partner. I’d never spoken to her before a few days ago.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Emily, sweetie. Just be back before 10. Okay.”

==========================

“What the fuck do you mean ‘a guest’.” The cigarette in Patrick’s mouth moved up and down as the words spilled from his lips, his deep voice bouncing off the wall of the small, concrete basement. He played with his guitar pick, moving it between the fingers of his right hand.

Nell waved her hand against the puffs of smoke that moved in her direction. “I mean a guest... you know... a person who isn’t normally here will be here tonight, so just be on decent behavior.” She turned back to the six string hanging just below her waist, gingerly adjusting the guitar’s pitch. She handled the black Fender as if it were made of the finest boned china. It took her an entire summer working three jobs to afford this guitar and her Marshall amp. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to this fine piece of machinery. “I don’t want you scaring her off.” She strummed the opening cords to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid. A slight downturn in her dark eyebrows indicated she wasn’t satisfied with her performance.

James Baker peaked his shaggy, blond head from behind his drum kit. “So, what I can’t play naked tonight.” He hit a cymbal for emphasis. “Who’s this chick, Nell?”

“She’s... ahm... we’re doing a project together,” she said quickly, still completely concentrated on her instrument.

James laughed. “If it doesn’t involve massage oils and candles, I’m not interested.” He ducked back behind the kit and hit the snare drum a couple of times before he announced, “okay, where the fuck is Mike’s chunky ass?” James pointed a drum stick towards the large clock on the other side of the room. “He’s fifteen minutes late.”

“And counting.“ A voice called from the top of the basement stairs. A short, heavy set man with a closely shaved head of brown hair walked down the wooden stairs with a shopping bag in one hand and a instrument case in the other. “I am here,” he shouted. “I just stopped and go some snacks.”

“Why is that not a shock!” Patrick emphasized each word by playing an some notes on his guitar.

Mike opened the plastic bag and tossed a package of Twinkles to James and a bag of corn chips to Patrick. “And for the lady of the house.” He reached into the bag and came up with a one pound bag of plain M & Ms.

“Thanks, honey.” Nell hit him on the shoulder. “I’ll forgive you for being fifteen minutes late.”

Patrick ripped open the bag of chips and said, “And it appears we’ll have an audience of one.” His cigarette still hanging from his mouth.

“What?” Mike quickly removed his black bass from its case.

“Nell’s got a mysterious new friend coming down here,” Patrick whispered as if it was a big secret, even though he said it loud enough to let everyone hear. “Shh....” He put a finger up this his lips and flashed a broad smile in Nell’s direction.

“Fuck you ALL,” Nell yelled. “Now, are we going to rehearse?”

They played loud and hard. This was how Nell released all her aggression. Singing songs of rage at the top of her lungs while pounding away on her guitar. She knew it was a good session if their beloved, dang basement smelled like a boys locker room by the third song.

Twenty-five minutes into their rehearsal, Nell felt her before she saw her. A surge silently ran up the length of her spine. She missed a few notes of her solo and than stopped playing altogether when sneakers appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hello,” a voice called into the dimly lit basement below.

“Hey, come on down,” Patrick answered the voice before Nell could open her mouth.

Nell didn’t notice her silence, nor did she care. All she could hear is the sound of her own heartbeat knocking against her ribs. Removing the guitar strap from around her shoulder, Nell slowly approached Emily’s radiant, smiling face. “Hey,” she said softly, hoping her band mates didn’t notice her soft-spoken, self-conscious manner. “I thought you’d forgotten...”

Emily looked around the crapped basement space and the three other people who were looking at her like she had five heads. “No, I... I just had to ... convince my father I wasn’t going out drinking...” She giggled, unconsciously pushing her light hair away from her face. “You guys... sounded great. From what I heard.”

“I like her,” James announced, his features breaking into a sincere smile. “So, what Nell? You’re not going to introduce us to your very, very smart friend?”

Nell looked over her shoulder. “Down boy! See, this is why we don’t have guest ever!” She walked towards James. “This is James, the drummer.”

“I guessed as much.” Emily waved, her eyes traveling to a colorful tattoo of a snake wrapping around his well-defined bicep.

“Call me Ginger. They all do,” he said politely.

“Ginger... she won’t call you anything.” Nell chuckled as James retreated back behind his drum kit. “And this is Mike.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “A friend of Nell’s is a friend of ours.”

Patrick stood by his amp, lighting his sixth cigarette of the night. He leaned on his left leg and blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Madam President.” He bowed his head. “It’s an honor.” As his head came up, he gave her a wide smile and a wink. “If I would have know you were coming I would have worn clean underwear.”

“And this ass, is Patrick.” Nell rolled her eyes as Patrick swaggered over. “And please, feel free to call him ass any chance you get.”

“Ha. Ha.” Patrick put out the cigarette on the floor. “Whatever she has told you about me it’s not true.” He firmly shook her hand.

“What makes you think I would ever waste my time talking about you.”

Patrick put a hand over his mouth and whispered in Emily’s direction. “I’m wearing her down.” He laughed slightly before letting go of her hand. “So Emily, pull up a chair, relax.”