A young man blames himself for the accidental death of his sweetheart. His futile attempts to escape his guilt have put him on a path of self-destruction. A punk girl takes him to Bikini Beach, and he gets a new perspective, and maybe, a second chance.

Notes: This story uses a few characters from Ellie Dauber's "Purse Snatcher" and "A Punk's Story" (Ed, Ken, Mel, Frankie, Tina, and Felicia). They are friends of the main characters, and are only incidentally used her. The story also makes reference to Melody, a girl from Ib12us's "The Runaway".

This is a little difficult to write, because there are so many flashbacks, and I've struggled with a way to mark them as such, without being 'clunky.' Flashback paragraphs are demarked at the start by *****that fateful night***** or similar

Many thanks to my editors, Sir Lee, Ib12us, and Salrissa. This one took more rounds of editing than any previous story, and I appreciate their patience.

**********

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Adam walked through the Lynnwood Mall slowly, like everything he did these days. Like everything he'd done for the past three weeks — ever since that evening. That awful, fateful evening, when his whole world had changed. Around him, people milled about — walking, talking, being with friends. Not Adam. His eyes had a haunted look, a sadness that seemed to overwhelm him. Every step, every glance at others, seemed to be an effort on Adam's part.

As he turned toward the food court, he spied some classmates. But instead of feeling any happiness at seeing them, his face turned to a mask of anguish. Amy and Isaac had been going steady for over a year. In fact, they'd started dating just after ….

He found himself fighting a losing battle against the sudden torrent of tears. With a whimper of anguish, he ducked into the nearest store out of desperation to escape the sight of his friends, out of sight of the reminder that the teenage couple represented.

It was ill fortune on Adam's part that he stepped into Vinyl Escape, a retro store that catered to a small crowd of old-time music enthusiasts. The store specialized in hard-to-find and collectible vinyl records — both LPs and 45s, and the décor matched — a 60's retro look that seemed both homey and out-of-place. There was always music playing in Vinyl Escape, and today was no exception. The music captured Adam.

That fateful night the car was stalled
upon the railroad track
I pulled you out and we were safe
but you went running back

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love

The threatened tears became a torrent, as Adam stood, riveted in place, helpless.

*****that fateful night*****

"We're going to be late, Adam," Denise Carter insisted as Adam opened the car door for her. She was a very pretty girl, and Adam couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb in, her sandy-blonde hair swirling playfully in the breeze.

"We'll be okay," Adam Jennings assured his girlfriend. They'd been sitting in Dixon Park, making out, and now the night curfew threatened to catch them. He smiled to himself as he thought of how good Denise was at French kissing, and how wonderful it felt to caress her creamy, voluptuous breasts. It had been _that_ which had caused him to dawdle, well after the bells of St. Martha's had warned him of the impending curfew.

Adam circled the car and slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. With a smile toward Denise, he pulled out of the parking spot and accelerated onto the street.

The light had just turned green as Adam and Denise approached. "They knew we were coming," Adam joked at his good fortune. "We'll make curfew."

Rafael Petrone saw the light turning yellow. With his reflexes and thinking dulled by his habitual night of over-drinking, he pressed the accelerator, knowing he could make it through the light. When the light turned red, he was still a good way from the intersection. Still, he could make it. He always had. Besides, if he stopped, there was a chance that a policeman would see his car. He had a well-deserved reputation for drunk driving, and being caught once more would mean time in the county jail. He pressed the accelerator even harder. In his inebriated state, Rafael had forgotten to turn on his lights. He didn't need them in the well-lit city streets. Or so he thought.

The first clue that either Adam or Denise had of Rafael's presence was the sickening crunch as his car, traveling at over forty-five miles per hour, slammed into the passenger side of Adam's.

Adam heard Denise scream, a short, high-pitched cry of pain that was, for a moment, louder than the sickening crunch of metal on metal and the screeching as the tires of his car slid across the pavement. The car started to spin at a dizzying rate, but a second impact stopped the car suddenly as it slammed into a light pole.

Slowly, Adam shook off the effects of the body-slamming impact. His head, left arm, and left leg hurt. The impact had knocked out the overhead light; there was only minimal light filtering into the broken car. As he tried to move, Adam felt the driver's door pressing into him.

**********

Adam tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey, or his subconscious was blocking his conscious efforts. He stood, listening to the mournful tale of lost teenage love.

Just sweet sixteen, and now you're gone
They've taken you away.
I'll never kiss your lips again
They buried you today

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love
Teen angel, teen angel, answer me, please

*****that fateful night*****

An awkward hush descended on the scene of the horrific wreckage. Only the faint hiss of hot engine coolant escaping the broken engine seemed audible. Adam fought waves of nausea and pain which threatened to whisk him away to the land of sleep. He turned, fighting a numb left side and a stuck seat belt, and reached his hand toward Denise. She wasn't answering his calls, and in the dim light, he could see her lying at an awkward angle.

"Denise?" he cried again, begging for some response. "Denise? Are you okay?"

He reached out to touch her cheek, to see if she was alright, but he felt something wet and warm on her face. He recoiled in horror, knowing that the something was probably blood.

"Hurt," her soft voice said, piercing the silence.

"You'll be okay," Adam tried to comfort her. He renewed his struggle against the seat belt and his aching left side, and eventually, he managed to get the seat belt released.

"Hurt," she said again.

Adam tried to move, but he was pinned by the steering wheel and the left door. He reached out, and still fighting the pain in his left arm, managed to ease Denise away from the door to lean against him. He cradled her head against his shoulder, his hand stroking her blood-streaked cheek. "Hang on. You'll be okay."

Adam had no way of knowing that a jewelry store robbery a few blocks away had distracted the police department. The cruiser which would have been patrolling the area was absent, and in the late hours, there were no witnesses to the crash except Rafael, who was passed out behind the wheel of his car. Precious moments slipped away with the two teenagers pinned in the wreckage, helpless and injured.

Denise's breathing seemed to be getting shallower to Adam. Slowly, he was beginning to realize that help was not on the way. He fought his injured left arm and his pinned body, and extracted his cell phone from his left jeans pocket. Frantically, he pressed the emergency call button.

"9-1-1. Please state the nature of your emergency."

"A car ran into us," Adam tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. "We're trapped, and my girlfriend is hurt really bad."

"What is your location?" the operator asked for confirmation

Adam made a guess. "About two blocks north of Dixon Park on Central Street. She's hurt really bad! Hurry!"

**********

Adam bolted from the store, tears streaming down his cheeks, blurring his vision. He had to get out of there, to escape — somehow — the reminders of that very bad evening — like that song, that awful, mournful song, which would now, thanks to his uncanny memory for music, be stuck in his brain, playing over and over, torturing him with its melancholy story. He stumbled toward the exit, to where his mom's Prius was parked.

Through his tears, he suddenly stopped, his heart racing, his mouth dropping open incredulously. It couldn't be! He turned, hastening his pace. It _had_ been a bad dream. He hurried, dodging a few people, and for a moment, he lost sight of her. Then he saw her again. He broke into a trot, then a run, darting through the crowd.

"Hey, Denise!" he called as he neared the figure, toward the girl with the lovely figure and wavy sandy-blonde hair cut just above her shoulders. She didn't respond. She didn't turn, or acknowledge him. He drew closer, and when he was only a few steps away from the girl, she and her friend turned toward the Topside store.

Adam's heart plummeted, as if tossed from a cliff to dash on the rocks below. It _wasn't_ Denise. His heart, aching to be released from the pain, had only imagined that the girl was his lost girlfriend, and that the nightmare wasn't real. He stopped short, his expression crestfallen, as he realized all over that Denise really _was_ gone.

Staggered by a roller-coaster of emotions, Adam stumbled out to his mom's car, and after crawling behind the wheel, he broke down, his sorrow overwhelming him as he cried and cried and cried.

**********

Adam shuffled down the hall at Central High School as school ended for the day. He was painfully aware of the stares as he walked by; everyone knew about the tragic accident, and since he and Denise had been quite an item, everyone figured that Adam was hurting inside. The problem, from Adam's perspective, was that everyone seemed to be treating him like he had the plague. Conversations halted as he walked by. Everyone stared; no-one offered a word of sympathy, let alone even a simple greeting. In their lack of knowing what to say, the kids of Central had made Adam feel more isolated, and focused in anguish inwardly. His friends, Mel and Ken and Ed, had girlfriends, and they seemed to avoid Adam precisely because their girlfriends would remind Adam of Denise, and renew the pain he felt in his heart.

And so Adam trudged alone, feeling the full pain of his loss with every step, but also feeling rejected. In the weeks since he'd recovered from his injuries, his grades had started slipping, slowly at first, but more and more rapidly, as he found himself unable to focus on his school work. He and Denise had spent countless hours studying together, helping each other, and interrupting the studying for a little bit of kissing and cuddling. Now, he had no study partner. Even when he tried to study, he remembered how Denise and he would lay on the floor of her bedroom, one beside the other, studying and reading from one book. Her perfume was always in his nose, tempting him with its delicate fragrance.

Now, he had none of that. Tears stinging his eyes, he stumbled out of the school building toward the bus stop. His car had been totaled, and since his mom worked, he had no transportation.

As Adam sat on a bench waiting for the bus which was usually late, a girl came up and plopped beside him. He stole a glance her way, and then looked back at the ground in front of him. He recognized Dierdre Bonheim; lithe, dark hair cut short on the sides and very long in the center, like a mane, four piercings in each ear and one in her left eyebrow. Her pants were dark leather, and she wore a mismatched black leather vest over a simple white knit shirt. Her tattoos, small enough to not violate the school's grooming code, could be seen on her arms, and Adam knew that she had a rose tattooed between her breasts, and a small dragon on her ankle.

"What are you looking at?" Dierdre demanded as she glared at Adam. She seemed quite angry at the world, and it was Adam's turn to be the recipient of her disgust.

"Uh, nothing," Adam said quickly.

"Well, quit staring at …." Dierdre's eyes narrowed, and she gazed intently at Adam. "Hey, aren't you the guy whose …?"

Adam knew exactly what she was going to say. "Yeah," he said morosely.

Dierdre shook her head slowly. "That's gotta really suck," she said in a voice that, strangely, had sympathy in it.

Adam realized that this punk girl was the first person who hadn't avoided him, but had spoken sympathetically to him. "Yeah, it really sucks," he answered. His eyes were stinging again.

Dierdre put her hand on Adam's. "I know how it feels to lose someone close," she said softly. "One morning, my twin brother Dennis just didn't wake up. It still hurts inside. I still miss him."

"Denise is … was … my best friend and my girlfriend," he said, fighting back the ever-present tears. "Do you know what it's like to …?" He shut up. Of course, she knew what it was like to bury someone close. "I keep seeing her face, in the wreck, in her casket …."

*****A few days after that fateful night*****

What was it you were looking for,
That took your life that night?
They said they found my high school ring
clutched in your fingers tight...

Adam walked stiffly down the aisle, his left arm still trussed up in a sling. He hated his suit, because he only wore it for occasions like this. After today, he knew that he'd never, ever wear this suit again. Ahead of him, people were sitting, waiting respectfully for the rosary service to begin. As he walked, he became aware of how many people were turning, staring at him. He didn't see them, though. All he could see was the white casket ahead, with its gold trim and white satin fabric lining the open cover.

He stumbled, nearly overwhelmed at what he was about to do. But he had to go through with it. Denise was too important to not say goodbye. He continued, and when he stopped at the casket, he gazed down at his girlfriend, lying so peacefully as if sleeping. The undertaker had done a marvelous job covering up the assault on her beauty that the accident had caused.

Adam leaned forward, and he took something from his pocket. Slowly, tenderly, he slipped his class ring onto her finger, then leaned forward and kissed her cold, lifeless cheek. In his mind, he hoped for a fairy-tale ending, a Snow White scene where the beautiful princess awoke after a kiss from her Prince Charming. Alas, it was not to be. She lay there, still and peaceful and beautiful, even in death.

Adam's grief which, until now, he had held in check, burst from its confines and overwhelmed him once more. He bent forward again, hugging his love, weeping openly and loudly as he slowly realized that she was really never coming back.

**********

"I said, 'do you want to maybe go hang out and try to take your mind off things?'" Dierdre repeated, breaking through Adam's painful flashback memory.

"What? Oh, I guess," Adam answered, not really sure of what else to say. "Why?"

Dierdre shrugged. "No one understands me," she answered simply. "Maybe you do. You know what they say? Misery loves company?"

"Yeah," Adam answered. "I guess. I mean, you're probably the only one in this school who can even remotely understand what it's like."

"And I've got some stuff that'll help you forget — at least for a little while."

Adam knew what she was talking about. And strangely, the promise of numbing himself to reality was powerfully alluring.

Twenty minutes later, as they rode the bus toward the mall, they passed a water park with a big billboard sign and a high privacy fence. "Hey, you want to try this place?"

Adam shrugged. "I don’t suppose it'll hurt," he answered noncommittally. "But I don't have swim trunks with me."

Dierdre nodded. "I heard someone say they have extras we can borrow."

On a school day in early Autumn, the parking lot wasn't very full when Dierdre and Adam hiked from the Mall to the water park. "You know what's funny," Dierdre commented sadly as they walked across the asphalt toward the ticket window, "so many times, I think of what happened to Darius, and I ask myself why him, and why not me?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Now I know how Romeo felt," he added.

"Romeo? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Adam shook his head. "Didn't you have to read Romeo and Juliet in English Lit?" he asked.

"Probably. I don't really pay attention to that old shit," Dierdre commented acidly. "Weren't they a couple who had a death thing?"

Adam nodded. "When he found that Juliet was dead, Romeo committed suicide because he couldn't stand to live without her."

Dierdre's eyes narrowed. "You're not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"

"No," Adam replied. "But I know how he felt." He shook his head sadly. "It wasn't fair to her. I wish _I_ would have been the one killed, instead of her."

At the ticket window, Adam noticed a pretty, dark-haired girl smiling at him. For a brief moment, he felt a shudder inwardly, as if she was staring into his soul. The feeling passed quickly, though. "Is it too late to get tickets for the rest of the afternoon?" he asked.

The girl smiled. "We have a few guest passes left." She glanced at Dierdre. "I think I'd like to talk to Adam alone for a moment, if you don't mind," she said, still smiling.

Dierdre glanced at Adam, then shrugged and stepped away, leaving Adam to talk with the girl behind the ticket window. "Uh, I'm not trying to cause any trouble," he stammered.

"I know," the girl said. "Adam, did you really mean what you meant when you said that you wished it had been you that died, and not Denise?"

Adam started at her words. First of all, she knew his name, and Denise's. Second, she knew exactly what he'd been thinking. He felt a shiver of unease, even fear. "Uh, how do you know that?" he mumbled.

The girl smiled. "By the way, my name is Anya. As to how I know, let's just say that I know a few tricks. So, my question stands. Did you really mean what you said?"

Adam gulped. "Uh, yeah, I guess so." Suddenly, he didn't feel very confident.

Anya slid a pass to him. "This is a week-long pass to help you get a little better perspective. I get the feeling that you're going to need it." She quoted him a price, which seemed reasonable for a one-week pass. "Before you go in the park, please shower. It's health department regulations."

Adam took the pass, and the one-day pass for Dierdre. "Uh, thanks. I guess." He turned awkwardly from the window, still trying to understand why he'd come to this park. It seemed so odd, especially given how morose he was feeling.

Inside the men's locker, Adam changed into the borrowed swim trunks. He still puzzled over why he was trying to have fun — the type of fun that Denise and he never would have again. But it was as if he was moving under some external control.

The shower was surprisingly warm and tingly, almost disturbingly so. Adam didn't _want_ to feel good. He missed Denise, and felt like being happy would be betraying her memory. Nonetheless, he closed his eyes for a moment. For once, he didn't have a flashback to the crash, or to her funeral. Instead, a warmth spread through him, bringing a state of relaxation that had eluded him for weeks.

Adam knew something was wrong as he turned off the shower. He'd left his glasses in the locker, but he could see perfectly. On top of that, the shower handle seemed a few inches higher. He sighed in disgust, and trudged out of the shower toward the exit.

As he rounded the corner, Adam's heart nearly stopped. Tears sprang from his eyes as he stared. It was her. Unlike the time in the mall, he _knew_ that he wasn't mistaken. He was too close, and the girl he beheld was too perfect a match. It was Denise.

She was only half-clothed, and was gawking at him, just as he was staring in disbelief at her. Her sandy-blonde hair was wet, and her blue eyes reflected her uncertainty at the situation. Her bare breasts hung so perfectly on her chest, and she wore a blue bikini bottom.

"Denise!" Adam cried to her. But the sound echoed impossibly in his ears, and she seemed to not respond. If anything, she was mimicking his state of disbelief.

Slowly, the image distorted as the door opened. Adam stared, finally realizing that he'd been looking into a mirror. "What ...?" he said, hearing Denise's lovely voice echoing in his ears again.

The girl from the ticket booth, Anya, stepped into the locker room. She was holding a bikini top that matched what the image of Denise had worn for a bottom. "I bet you have a ton of questions."

Adam nodded, then, as the shock of seeing Denise wore off a bit, he felt something weighing down his chest. He glanced down hesitantly, and was surprised to see breasts. His mouth hung open in amazement at what had happened. If he had breasts, and he heard Denise's voice from his mouth, and had seen Denise's reflection in what he was certain had been a mirror, then he was ....

"Denise? I'm Denise?" he stammered.

Anya nodded. "Yes. You're Denise."

"Why?" he managed to squeak.

Anya took Adam by the arm and led him to a bench, where she sat beside him. "Please, put this on first."

Perhaps because he was so stunned at the image of his late girlfriend, Adam didn't think about what Anya had requested. He just took the top and tied it on. After a moment, his eyes widened at the realization of what he'd done.

"Thank you," Anya said sweetly. "Grandmother really doesn't like topless sunbathing. Now, about your questions. Let's just say that this place is magic, and I granted your wish."

"My ... wish?"

"That Adam had been the one killed in the wreck, and not Denise," Anya answered.

"But ... you changed me into her!" Adam protested. "It's ...." He shook his head, confused. "If you can work magic, why don't you just make it so she's really here, instead of making me look like her?"

Anya sighed heavily. "It's not that easy," she answered. "I can't just swap souls from where she is now and where you are. It doesn't work that way. The only way Denise can live right now is for me to have changed the accident so that Denise lived — with you in her body, and that Adam's body died." She winced visibly at the inadequacy of her explanation. "If you died, and she lived, she'd feel the same as you do, and she'd want to find a way that _you_ lived instead of her, and ...." She winced again. "It's really complicated."

"Like a time paradox?" Adam ventured timidly.

Anya nodded. "Exactly."

"But ... I can't .... How am I supposed to fool people?"

"Quick, tell me your name," Anya commanded sharply.

"Denise Carter," Adam replied immediately. His mouth dropped open at the words that had come out.

Anya smiled. "To the world, Adam died. Denise is alive. Everyone — except you and I — know this to be true."

"Oh."

"You'll find that you'll have Denise's memories, so it will be easier for you to _be_ Denise. But you'll also have Adam's memories. Think about something special and see."

Denise thought for a moment about dating, and she was startled as she realized that she could remember Adam kissing her tenderly, and a thrill running through her body. She _did_ have Denise's memories. But more, when she thought of it, she could remember being Adam, and the magic of their first kiss. She shook her head; the twin sets of memories were confusing.

**********

Denise sat in the classroom, feeling as though she was being watched by all the students. Even the teacher seemed to be glancing occasionally at her, with a concerned expression.

"Miss Carter?"

"Uh, yes?" Denise asked as she snapped her thoughts back to the class. She knew that everyone was staring at her; she'd been one of the better students.

"I'd like you to stay after class a moment, please," the teacher said simply.

The rest of the class was torture for Denise; she felt like she was under a microscope from the other students, and she couldn’t seem to concentrate on her studying. Perhaps it was because she and Adam had shared the class, and had frequently studied together. Perhaps it was because Adam, too, was a good student. Denise's memories were far too painful.

As the students filed out, Denise went to the teacher's desk. "You wanted to see me?" she asked meekly.

"Yes." The teacher bit her lower lip for a second as she visibly struggled with what to tell the young lady. "You've been a very good student, but since ... the accident ... your grades are slipping significantly."

Denise hung her head, and nodded silently.

"Denise, everyone knows that you're under a lot of emotional stress. Everyone."

Denise looked up sharply. "Nobody knows what I'm going through," she said through tears.

The teacher sighed. She was going to lose a very talented student because of a drunk driver's stupidity. "Denise, I really would like you to talk to the school counselor. You've suffered a huge loss. It's very understandable that you're grieving and having trouble."

"You don't know how hard it is!" Denise snapped, still weeping. "Nobody knows! And everyone treats me like I've got some kind of disease instead of ...." She turned and bolted from the classroom.

A few steps outside the door, Denise realized that everyone was staring at her as she ran down the hall. Self-consciously, she stopped and forced herself to walk. She already felt like the center of attention; there was no need to make herself more of a target for the curious.

As she walked toward her next class, the tune began to play in her head again. Denise darted into the bathroom, to be out of public sight, knowing that she was about to be overwhelmed by memories again.

Just sweet sixteen, and now you're gone
They've taken you away.
I'll never kiss your lips again
They buried you today

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love
Teen angel, teen angel, answer me, please

*****that fateful night*****

The darkness was pierced by the staccato flashing of the red and blue emergency lights, and the spotlight mounted atop the fire truck. On one side of the car, firemen worked methodically with their rescue equipment to pry the battered driver's door open. On the other side, , an EMT tended to Denise, who was lying on a backboard. Her head ached — badly — and she felt nauseous and dizzy.

She heard the tortured grinding of metal being rent as the firemen finally wrestled the door free. Denise tried to sit up, but the EMT pushed her gently but firmly back onto the backboard. "No, ma'am," he said softly. "You need to stay put."

"But ... Adam!" Denise cried frantically. "They've got to take care of Adam!" she spoke somewhat incoherently, still dazed and confused by the violence of the crash

The EMT glanced up, looking through the open passenger door. He closed his eyes tightly; he didn't want to say anything. When he opened them again, he forced himself to have a neutral expression. "They're taking care of him," he said simply.

Denise quit struggling. In the background, she heard police talking.

"He's passed out, and apparently uninjured," one policeman said.

A different voice replied. "We have to transport him to the hospital anyway. Good thing, too, because they can do the blood work."

The first voice was back. "This is his fifth DUI." His voice was sad, like the police force and courts had let the city down by not keeping the drunk off the streets.

"Maybe vehicular manslaughter will finally stick and keep his sorry ass in jail," the second voice replied, fading as it did.

Denise sat, puzzled. Though she was trying, she couldn't make sense of the words. Her head hurt too much to think.

After a bit, a second EMT arrived with a fold-down stretcher. The two men very carefully lifted the backboard and Denise onto the stretcher, then strapped her in, taking care to ensure that her head was secure. With a possible concussion and neck injury, they weren't going to take any chances.

Once she was firmly strapped down, they lifted the stretcher to full height, and then wheeled it toward a waiting ambulance. As the EMTs pushed her stretcher into the ambulance, Denise tried to turn her head slightly, to look back at the car, only to be fortunate enough to have the stretcher turn slightly in the right direction.

The last thing she saw of the wreck, the image that would forever haunt her, was seeing an EMT kneeling down over Adam's limp body, and pulling a sheet over his head. She cried in anguish, knowing exactly what the gesture meant, the realization finally taking hold of her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and a cry of anguish escaped her lips.

**********

"Denise?" Frankie stuck her head into the women's restroom, looking for the girl. She saw a figure sitting in a corner, holding her knees to her chest and sobbing. Frankie turned her head back toward the hallway. "Tina! She's in here!"

Tina followed Frankie quickly into the restroom. They knelt down beside Denise, one on either side. "Are you okay?" Frankie asked, concern in her voice. Denise hadn't shown up for her English class. Since it was well known in school, even among the faculty, that Denise was overwhelmed with grief for the loss of Adam, the teacher excused a couple of Denise's friends to help search for the missing girl.

Denise looked up, her eyes mournful and red from crying. She stared blankly at Frankie, then at Tina, before she dropped her chin onto her knees and gazed at the tile floor. "It won't stop hurting," she sobbed.

"I know," Tina said, placing her hand on Denise's shoulder. "I know it hurts."

"Let's get you cleaned up." Frankie and Tina took Denise's arms and helped her stand. "Everyone's worried about you," she explained. "Even the teachers."

After washing Denise's face, which lessened the visible signs of crying, Frankie took out her purse and touched up Denise's makeup. Then the two, flanking Denise, led her out of the restroom.

Mr. Snitter, the assistant principal, was waiting in the hall. Despite his reputation as being hard-nosed sometimes, and despite her fear of being in trouble, Denise was surprised to see a look of concern on his face, like a worried parent. He hesitated before speaking, looking down at the floor as he assembled his thoughts.

"Ms. Carter," he began softly, "I talked to your mother. She agrees with me that it would be best for you to spend time with the school counselor." He saw Denise's frown starting. "With your mother's permission, I'm suspending you from classes for a few days so you can get some help."

Denise's eyes widened in disbelief. She felt like there was a conspiracy against her. First, her mother, and now, the faculty. "But ...."

Mr. Snitter shook his head. "But nothing. The counselor happens to be free right now. That's where we're going." He turned to the other girls. "Thank you for your help. I believe you need to return to your classes, though."

**********

"Are you okay?" Felicia Ormand asked as Denise trudged out the school doors toward the parking lot. Tina and Frankie were also there, with similarly-concerned expressions on their faces.

"Uh, yeah," Denise said hesitantly. She'd spent nearly a week as Denise, and no-one had guessed that she was a victim of the park's magic, that she was really Adam, his soul in Denise's body; the magic had given her enough memories to fit in. Too many memories, actually; her memories were as strong, and unpleasant, as Adam's had been.

"Are you sure you want to go out for pizza?" Tina asked softly.

"Yeah," Denise tried to sound confident, "I need to ... be with friends." She was flooded with memories of sleepovers with her new friends after she'd moved to the city and started school at Central High. She gasped at the sudden memories of dating — Adam! Of kissing him, walking hand-in-hand through the park or on the beach, of giggling over pizza. There were so many happy memories, times with Adam when he was smiling, or playful, or cuddly, or tender and caring. And then there were the other memories — the dark nightmares, so stark and clear and picture-perfect, the bad flashbacks that came to her during the day at the slightest reminder, and during the night when she should be peacefully sleeping. The horrible images which assaulted any sense of peace or tranquility, leaving her shaken and frightened and feeling so helpless.

The girls walked out to Felicia's car. Denise sat in the back seat, feeling relaxed from having friends close by, but at the same time, sad, because her memories said that she should have been out with her boyfriend Adam.

Denise was quiet on the car ride. As they neared the pizza parlor, a dog darted in front of Felicia's car. Felicia stomped on the brakes and swerved. The tires squealed in anger at the sudden braking maneuver as the car skidded; the force of the turn threw Denise against the rear door, stunning her momentarily.

*****that fateful night*****

Denise sat in the passenger seat, staring at Adam with adoring eyes. They'd had a wonderful date — a nice dinner, a movie, and then, to top it off, a little stroll and some kissing in Dixon Park. "We're going to be late," she said to Adam.

Adam started to reply, but just then, as he accelerated through a light which had just turned green, Denise saw a shape moving to her right.

Rafael Petrone knew he could make the light before it turned red. He didn't count on his impaired judgment or slow reactions from being thoroughly drunk.

The car slammed into the front of Adam's car with a sickening crunch. Accompanied by a squeal of tires as his car began to spin from the initial impact, Denise was hurled against the passenger door and window; her head smacked the pillar hard. The driver's door smashed hard into a traffic light pole, caving the door inward directly at Adam.

Denise fought the nausea and blacking vision of nearly being knocked unconscious, and turned toward Adam. She couldn't see much in the dim light. Fighting a rising sense of panic, she called to her boyfriend. "Adam?" she called. "Adam?" Her voice was more frantic this time. There was, however, no response.

She reached up and turned on the dome light, then screamed. Adam lay at an impossible angle across the steering wheel, his head twisted unnaturally. The entire left side of his head was battered and bloody. Denise shook him, trying to rouse him so they could escape the car, not sure if he was still conscious. "Adam!" she cried again, frantic that her boyfriend wasn't responding. What Denise didn't know — yet — was that it was hopeless. Adam would never respond. He had been killed instantly when the car struck the light pole.

**********

Denise sat, sobbing and shaking, in the back seat of Felicia's car. Tears were streaming down her face at the vivid and horrible memory of the accident. From across the car, Tina was hugging her, holding her close, trying to comfort the shaken girl.

"Felicia," Frankie suggested softly, "I think we should take Denise home."

Denise stared blankly, not hearing the suggestion. She was totally shaken by the intensity of the memory which wasn't hers. In her mind, she heard over and over that song from the mall, seemingly an age ago, a song which Adam's nearly perfect memory for music wouldn't let go of.

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love

The song was haunting her, just as it had haunted Adam. Sounds, sights, songs — they were cruelly tormenting her, not letting her have any peace, but reminding her constantly of her loss.

Tina looked for a response from Denise, but saw none. "That's probably the right thing," Tina whispered to Felicia.

Felicia nodded, and then accelerated slowly down the street again. Driving much more cautiously, she navigated the streets until she pulled up to the Carter home.

Escorted by Tina and Frankie, Denise walked stiffly and numbly toward the front door of her house. After the door opened, Tina gave Denise a hug. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Denise shook her head. "No, I'll be okay," she said softly. She gave Frankie a quick hug, then slipped inside her house and padded upstairs to her bedroom.

After lying on her bed crying for over an hour, the need to go to the bathroom overpowered her sense of helplessness and despair. She wiped at her eyes, and then went to her bathroom. After finishing, she realized that she was hungry, despite the anguish in her heart. She padded down the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. She stopped short when she heard her mom and dad talking.

"I think we need to get her to a counselor," Mom said insistently. "She's having a lot of problems."

"She'll get over him," Dad replied. "She's a pretty girl. Some other guy will catch her attention, she'll go out with him, and she'll forget all about Adam."

"That's pretty harsh, Matt," Mom countered sharply. "Even if you didn't think he was good enough for her, she still cared for him."

Denise felt her anger rise at her parents' words. She barged into the kitchen, her eyes blazing. "What do you mean, not good enough for me?" she screamed at them. "Are you saying that Adam wasn't good enough for me? That you didn't approve of him? Is that what you're saying?"

"Honey, I was just saying ...." Dad tried to undo some of the damage the words had inadvertently caused.

"You were saying that Adam wasn't good enough for me!" Denise ran out of the kitchen.

"Honey, that's not true!" Mom tried to say as she chased after her daughter.

Denise grabbed her purse on the way out, and climbed into her car. As her mother ran down the front steps, Denise started the car and screeched out of the driveway, and then down the street. Her face still showed its anger, but tears were running down her cheeks and dripping down onto her shirt. Denise didn't care.

For half an hour, Denise drove around aimlessly, not sure where to go to escape the pain that seemed to close in on her from every side. Finally, she came to a stop at the Lynnwood Mall. She closed her eyes, thinking about the last visit. She'd been Adam, and that store with the terribly tragic song had begun to torment her. But Denise climbed from her car and went inside. She needed to get something to eat, and she didn't want to be alone. Even if she wasn't interacting with other people, she wouldn’t feel quite so alone in a crowd.

As she walked, she saw a couple coming her way. Her stomach knotted; she realized that it was already too late, that Adam's parents had seen her, and, for some reason, were coming her way.

Mrs. Jennings looked much older than her forty-two years. The loss of her son had devastated her. Mr. Jennings, too, looked a shadow of his normal energetic self. His eyes seemed sunk and hollow, his expression sad.

Denise felt a surge of Adam's memories and feelings. It was heartbreaking to see how hard the loss of their son was on his parents. Despite being in Denise's body, they were still _her_ parents. She wanted to hug them, and tell them that she was Adam inside, but she knew that they'd never understand.

"How are you doing, Denise?" Mrs. Jennings asked carefully when they were within a couple of yards. There was something in her eyes that made Denise uneasy.

Denise shut her eyes for a moment; Mr. and Mrs. Jennings were another reminder that Adam was gone. She prepared for another onslaught of painful memories, but this time, thankfully, they didn't come. "I'm ... trying," was all she could say. "How are you?"

Mrs. Jennings started to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. Denise could see tears in her eyes. As much as they reminded Denise of Adam, so too did Denise remind _them_ of their missing son. "I ... we ... miss him," she said, wiping at the tears which had appeared.

Denise thought she saw a flicker of hidden emotion on Mr. Jennings' face, some feeling that he was trying to mask. After a bit more awkward conversation, Denise turned to Mr. Jennings. "It wasn't my fault," she blurted. "I know you blame me, because we were on a date, but it wasn't my fault!" Tears had started streaming down her cheek again at feeling like Adam's parents were blaming her.

Mr. Jennings features clouded; Denise realized that she'd hit on an unpleasant truth — at least for Adam's dad. Mrs. Jennings, though, tried to deny it. "No, dear," she tried to say, "we don't blame you. It was an accident!"

Denise wanted to believe her, but she saw the look in Mr. Jennings' eyes. He _did_ blame her. If his son hadn't been on a date with her, he wouldn't have been at the scene, and Adam wouldn't have died. Denise turned and fled the accusing glare, running out of the mall toward her car.

**********

Adam woke up with a start. He glanced around, and didn't recognize his surroundings. Slowly, his mind began to unscramble the puzzle. His pass had worn off. He wasn't Denise any longer; he was back to being Adam. And his heart ached for Denise. As he thought of her, again, the song replayed itself in his mind.

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love

Just sweet sixteen, and now you're gone
They've taken you away.
I'll never kiss your lips again
They buried you today

Teen angel, can you hear me
Teen angel, can you see me
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love
Teen angel, teen angel, answer me, please

"Do you want breakfast?" the voice called again, finally penetrating Adam's thoughts.

Adam shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and to try to force out the excruciating memories. "Uh, I'm not really hungry," he answered. Somehow, Adam realized, he'd ended up at Mel Haywood's place; Mel was Frankie's boyfriend. They weren't close friends by any stretch, but the girls knew each other well enough — or had known each other well enough, Adam corrected himself — that Adam and Denise had double-dated with Frankie and Mel a couple of times.

"You look like crap," Mel said as he looked at Adam. "Are you okay?"

Adam shook his head slowly. "How would you feel if you lost Frankie? If you'd been driving, and got in a wreck, and killed her? How would you feel?" His voice cracked with the strain of his powerful emotions.

Mel was stunned by Adam's rant. "What happened last night?" he tried to change the subject.

Adam rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. "I bumped into her parents in the mall," he said, trying to control his sobbing. His 'Adam' memories had reversed the roles of the previous evening from the 'Denise' memories. "I could tell that they blame me for the accident."

"The police report said it was all the drunk driver. You couldn’t have done anything."

Adam shook his head. "If we hadn't stopped to make out in Dixon Park," he cried, "we wouldn't have been there. They were right - it _was_ my fault!"

Mel didn't know what to say. Adam was blaming himself, and no-one was going to talk him out of that. "Didn't your mom and Mr. Snitter force you to go to the school counselor?" he asked hesitantly.

Adam nodded. "It didn't help. It's not _going to_ help!" He shook his head. "Nothing helps." He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Romeo had the right idea. Nothing else is going to make it right."

Mel's eyes widened; he'd taken the same English Lit class as Adam. At the end, Romeo committed suicide so he could be with Juliet in death, since they couldn't be together in life. He was afraid that Adam was thinking the same thing.

"I know someone who might be able to help," Mel offered hesitantly. "Do you want to try?"

"Nothing will bring her back, and I can't live without her!" Adam blurted. "I tried ...." his voice tapered off as he realized that he'd been about to spill the beans on the magic. Given his current state, if he started claiming that magic was real and that he'd tried it to get Denise back, he'd probably be locked in a rubber room.

Mel's eyes narrowed when he heard Adam's words. He wondered .... "I know someone who might be able to help," he repeated, "if you'll let her. She has a certain ... magical way of helping out when someone is in trouble."

Adam's head snapped up, and he looked at Mel with narrowed eyes. "What ... what are you talking about?" he asked tentatively. He was afraid that he _did_ know what Mel was talking about.

Fifteen minutes later, Adam was sitting silently in Mel's car as they pulled into the parking lot at Bikini Beach. Adam frowned. "This isn't going to help," he said with absolute certainty. "All it can do is mix things up."

Mel frowned. "You've ... you've been here, haven't you?" he asked with certainty. Adam's clenched jaw told him all he needed to know.

As Mel parked his car, he was surprised to see both Anya and Grandmother walking across the parking lot toward them. Anya gave Mel a quick hug when Mel exited the car, while Adam watched suspiciously. "I'm glad you talked him into coming," she said.

"More like, he forced me," Adam said angrily.

Grandmother offered her hand to help Adam out of the car. "In this case, it beat the alternative." She looked at Mel. "Thank you for bringing him. You _know_ that you stopped another tragedy."

Mel gulped; he knew that if Grandmother said it would have happened, then it would have. "Glad to be able to help."

"I think we can take it from here," Anya said. "It's probably better if you go now."

Mel started to protest, but then he considered Anya's request. If they _did_ change something, and he knew, it would make life awkward for Adam. "I think I understand." Reluctantly, he climbed back into his car. "Trust them, Adam," he said before he shut the door. "They really _can_ help."

"It didn't work last time," Adam muttered bitterly, softly enough that only Anya could hear him.

Flanked by Grandmother and Anya, he watched Mel drive off, and then the trio walked across the asphalt to the office building.

**********

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Adam pleaded. "I can't go through any more of this! You don't know what it's like!"

"And being Denise didn't work out, either, did it?" Grandmother asked.

Adam shook his head. "I had her memories. The accident was changed, and I had her memories of watching me die, of suffering without me. It was the same, but from her side." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Please, bring her back, and let me go! I can't take it anymore."

Anya shook her head. "Our magic can't do that. We already explained it."

"If you could change the past, couldn't you change it so that I died? So that she gets a chance to live?"

"And let her suffer through what you've been going through?" Grandmother prompted. "You've felt her pain this past week. Would you _really_ want to bring her back to suffer that kind of pain?"

Adam started. He hadn't considered that. His week in Denise's life hadn't been any less anguished than his had been. He realized that he didn't want to inflict that on her. "Can't you ... bring back her soul? She deserves a chance."

"We can't do that," Grandmother answered, as Adam had expected. "When we changed the past, your ... soul ... slipped into her body, because it's already here. Hers is ... well, it's complicated to try to explain, but she's not close enough. And she's almost gone, too. In not much longer, her soul will go somewhere where no magic would ever be able to get her back."

"But ...."

Grandmother shook her head. "The story has been set. It's your soul. In Adam's life, Denise died in the accident, and you have the distress. In Denise's life, it's still your soul, Adam died in the accident, and you still have the distress."

"We can't control which soul goes into which life," Anya added. She was lying, but Adam didn't know that. She or Grandmother _could_ change the past — just enough — to bring back Denise. But Grandmother had some other motives for her reasoning. She decided to play along, not knowing what Grandmother was up to. "Neither Grandmother nor I are powerful enough to do that."

"Then please let me go, so I'll be with her — wherever she is!" Adam pleaded.

Grandmother shook her head. "I ... can't let you do that," she said sadly. "I won't help you commit suicide."

Adam looked up suddenly. "What if ...?" Adam started to say, but he stopped.

"What if ... what?" Anya prompted. She realized that Adam was a smart boy. What was he thinking?

"What if ... you changed me so I was a girl, but wasn't Denise?" Adam asked nervously. "What if I'd never been a boy, which would mean that I never dated her, and we couldn't have been in the accident?"

"Do you realize what you're asking? What you'd give up?" Grandmother asked, her eyes narrowed and gazing intently at Adam, almost unnervingly so.

"Um, I think so. I don’t know," Adam admitted. He sounded like he was about to cry. "I'm ... confused."

"You would have never dated her. You won't be her boyfriend. She'll probably have some other boyfriend."

"But she'll be alive?" Adam asked simply.

Grandmother nodded. "Yes."

"Then I'll do it."

It was Anya's turn to gaze into Adam's soul. "Are you sure?"

"I love her! I want her to be back, even if I can't be ... close to her ever again. She ... deserves it! She's too special to let go." He looked at Grandmother. "If I could give my own life to bring her back, I would. In a way, isn't this the same thing?"

Grandmother nodded. "I know you would, Adam. I know you would." She sighed. "It might not work. She's been gone a long time, and her contact with this world is ... tenuous. And if it does work, you might be her friend, or might not." She shook her head. "I can't assure you that she'll even be your friend."

"But she'll smile? I'd give anything to see her smile again, even if I have to watch from afar." Adam's voice was pleading. "Please?"

Grandmother took a slip of paper and wrote on it, then handed it to Adam. "That's the price of a lifetime pass."

Adam's heart sank. He couldn't afford that. Even though he was willing, he couldn't afford the pass that would save Denise. "Isn't there something I can do? I'll work for you — every day I can, after school, and all next summer, just to get her back. Please?" He was in tears. "I can't lose her — not when saving her is so close!"

Anya looked at Grandmother. "What about the fund that Melody set up? I'm sure she'd understand and approve. He can repay her next summer."

Grandmother glanced at Anya, and then smiled at Adam. "I always need part-time workers, and I hire workers for the summer," she said. "I can take the price of your pass out of your wages."

Adam leaped from his chair, ran to Grandmother, and hugged her, tears streaming down his cheeks.

**********

Angela Jennings stepped out of the locker room, fearful and hesitant. She glanced around, unsure what she was going to see. As she thought, she realized — slowly — that she still had Adam's memories. She still remembered that awful night, and the emotional pain that had ensued. She felt bitterly disappointed; she'd hoped that the change would take away the emotional agony. For some reason, though, that was not to be. She had the memories, and she realized that she probably would forever.

"There you are!" a familiar voice called to her.

Angela turned toward the voice, and felt like she was going to faint. Before she'd fully recovered from the shock, Denise Carter was at her side, looking a little concerned, holding Angela's elbow to steady her. "Are you okay? You look ... faint." She glanced around. "Let's go to the medical shack and let the doctor check you out."

"No!" Angela said quickly — too quickly, she realized. If she protested too much, Denise might get suspicious.

"Are you sure?" Denise asked.

Angela had a surge of memories. She and Denise _were_ best friends, and had been for as long as they'd been in school. She realized that Adam's memories were also there, too. Unless they faded, she was _always_ going to remember that very bad day. She realized that the anguish of those memories was probably showing in her expression, and in the tiny teardrop in the corner of her eye. "I ... I, uh, had a very bad dream last night," Angela fibbed, to distract Denise.

"What was it?"

Angela took a breath while she quickly organized her thoughts. "I ... dreamed that you were out on a date," she began softly, "and you were killed in a car wreck on your way home." She hugged Denise tightly, holding her like she was afraid of losing her best friend. Denise couldn't see the tears in Angela's eyes. "It was so ... realistic, like it really happened," she said softly.

Denise returned the hug. "It was just a bad dream," she reassured her friend. "I'm okay, and I'm going to stay that way."

"Yeah, just a bad dream," Angela said, not sounding at all convinced.

"Are you and Tony going to Shell Game tonight? I heard they've got a hot new band, and I feel like dancing. We could double," Denise suggested, changing the subject.

Angela felt a stab of jealousy when Denise mentioned that she had a date. But quickly, the 'girl' memories pushed aside the 'Adam' memories, and she realized that she was lucky to be dating Tony; he treated her like a goddess. She also remembered that Denise had been dating Gerhard Hoffman, a foreign exchange student from Germany that a lot of girls were hot for. "That sounds like fun, if Tony is okay." She thought about Tony — Tony Edwards. Good looking, strong, tall, a star on the track team, and very smart. She had 'girl' memories of other girls expressing jealousy that she was dating Tony. She felt a thrill in her heart, the first happiness she'd felt in nearly a month.

The two best friends turned to walk into the park. As they did, though, Angela spotted a girl sitting by herself at one of the park tables. She looked like she wanted to be alone with her melancholy mood. She halted, and turned toward the girl.

"What's up?" Denise asked, puzzled by Angela's sudden halt. She saw the girl. Angela remembered how, when they were little girls, Dierdre Bonheim had been part of the group that played, and had sleepovers, and went to Fun Zone together. Suddenly, though, in their sophomore year in high school, Dierdre had changed, and fell out of the group. It had happened about the time her brother passed away. Now, she was just an angry punk girl on the verge of flunking out of school. She was very reclusive, and rebellious. It was even rumored that she did some drugs.

Angela walked over and sat down beside the girl. "Hi, Dierdre," she said simply.

Dierdre looked at Angela suspiciously. "What do you want?" she asked, not disguising the unhappiness in her voice.

"I ... just thought that you'd like to talk to someone," Angela said.

"Go away," Dierdre snapped.

"Dierdre," Angela said, "you may not believe me, but I _know_ how much pain you're in from losing your twin brother. I know that, sometimes, you just need to talk to someone, or sometimes you need a hug. You just want people to treat you like a person, and not to make you feel like you're alone, or strange, or have the plague."

Dierdre glared at Angela, but she saw something in Angela's eyes, a strange sympathetic understanding, that surprised her. "Uh, I ...." Her voice, formerly bitter, choked, and she couldn't continue. Everything that Angela had said was true. She found herself starting to cry, and she let Angela hug her and hold her close.

After a bit, Dierdre sat up, wiping her eyes. "How ... how did you know?" she asked softly.

Angela smiled. "Someday, I'll tell you. Maybe." She looked up at Denise. "Both of you."

"Someday?" Dierdre asked.

"If I told you now, you'd never believe me." She stood, and offered a hand to help Dierdre stand. "You were a very good friend. I hope we can be friends again." She took Dierdre by one elbow, and Denise by the other. "In the meantime, let's go have some fun."

**********

Anya sat in the office, looking like she was lost in thought. "In a way, Grandmother," she said after a long silence, "Adam did succeed."

Grandmother frowned. "Succeed in what?"

"If he hadn't been with Mel," Anya explained what her magic senses had shown her, "he would have done like Romeo. He would have killed himself, because he didn't think he could live without Denise, and he couldn't live with the pain."

"That's true," Grandmother observed.

"In a way, then, he succeeded." She smiled wryly at Grandmother. "He gave up his life to be with her. Adam sacrificed everything for Denise."

Grandmother nodded. "True," she confirmed.

"Is Angela going to remember? Will she always know what Adam did, and the pain he would have gone through?"

"Yes, she will," Grandmother said softly. "She'll always remember that she was Adam, and that she sacrificed so much to save the girl that Adam loved."

"It seems so cruel," Anya said with a sad expression. "Maybe it would have been better if I could have made Adam's memories fade."

"Then Angela wouldn't have known how to help her old friend Dierdre," Grandmother countered. "Dierdre would have gone down a different path of self-destruction without their help. As consolation, though, Denise and Angela will be best friends for life. They'll be each other's maid-of-honor, and godparents of each other's children. And someday, Adam will bring Denise here and show her the magic, and then explain what she did."

"Why?"

Grandmother smiled. "Someday, Denise is going to think that Angela betrayed her friendship, and turn her back on Angela. Angela will show Denise what would have happened, and what Angela gave up, to prove that she really does love Denise. It will transform a good friendship into one for the ages." Grandmother looked over the top of her reading glasses at Anya. "You should have seen that," she chided. Anya lowered her gaze, ashamed; Grandmother was right. Anya _should_ have seen their future, if only she'd have applied all her magic lessons.

Grandmother leaned back over her desk. "Now, those tax forms aren't going to do themselves. Let's get them done so we can go out for lunch."

FIN