Chapter one:

My bedside clock was announcing the hour as being well past midday by the time Rachael decided to pull herself off of me. My whole body was sticky, hair matted with sweat as I pulled it from my eyes. Rachael stood beside the bed, light shining between my curtains wrapping itself about the curves of her body. She looked at me, her face betraying no hint of remorse or embarrassment at what had transpired between us. Instead she was a picture of quiet confidence, her movements smooth and elegant as she looked about the room, searching for something between the mounds of dirty clothes and rubbish strewn about.

“Don’t you still have some of the clothes that I leant to you?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I clambered out of bed, going to my wardrobe. I dug about until I found a small bag I’d been keeping. “Here, I even washed them for you.”

“I guess I should be thankful.” She muttered, deliberately making note to stare at the clothing that littered the floor.

I folded my arms, giving her a filthy look. “We’ve only been in a relationship less than a day and you’re already trying to change me.”

“This isn’t a relationship, remember?” She slid on a black t-shirt, her curves looking far less pronounced than mine did when I wore it. “Think of it as a sex tutorial.”

“Could you find a way to make it sound less appealing?”

“Just making sure you don’t get confused.” She replied evenly. “Otherwise it’s just going to get complicated.”

I shook my head, picking up the towel Rachael had discarded last night. “Whatever. I feel gross, so I’m going to take a shower.”

As I walked to the door, Rachael ran her fingers through my hair. “Have you thought about changing your hair color?”

“What’s wrong with this?” I asked, feeling sensitive about my appearance all of a sudden. “I like blueish purple.”

She giggled lightly, turning me to the mirror on my vanity as she spoke. “You haven’t colored it since I met you, so all the dye is fading.”

I sighed, taking a closer look at the lock of hair she held up to the light. It’s true that I hadn’t colored it since that fateful day I’d become a girl. I’d done it in a hurry, desperate to show that I could exert some modicum of control over my appearance, no matter how badly it turned out. The result wasn’t exactly colorfast, and recently it had faded until bleached white strands were starting to become obvious.

“Your roots are starting to show as well.” She added, pointing to the dark inch of hair that was growing from my scalp. “Want me to fix it up for you?”

“You can do that?” I looked at her, surprised by her offer. It’s not like I was accustomed to any of my friends giving me beauty tips.

Rachael smiled, taking a step back. “Of course. We’re not mixing explosives here.”

I raised an eyebrow “You don’t know how to make explosives.”

“None that you know of.”

“Great.” I replied with a touch of irony. “Then you can color my hair so long as you don’t blow up my house.”

“I’m not making any promises.” She beamed proudly.

I shook my head as I walked out of the bedroom. I’d expected that Nick would have left for his classes by now, as he usually did on a weekday. So you can imagine my surprise when I found him standing in the hallway, casually eating a sandwich while he stared at me.

“Nick!” I pulled the towel up, hastily trying to cover myself from his wandering eyes. “What are you still doing here?”

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to let the silence emphasize his response. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Funny about that, huh?”

Crap. I’m never going to live this down. “Uhm…yeah, funny about that. Must be the neighbours or something.”

I watched Nick’s gaze linger for a moment, before he turned and vanished into his bedroom. “Next time, turn up the stereo so I don’t have to listen to you.”

I let out a long sigh, knowing that he was probably just waiting for Rachael to leave so she wouldn’t bear witness to the grotesque punishment (Nick’s “Special Technique Number 49: Megaton Punch”) that followed. This just keeps getting better and better…

I stepped into the bathroom, relaxing I heard the door click shut behind me. I’d have to wash my hair first if Rach was going to be dying it anyway. I already knew she’d be coloring it red, since that was all I had left. The tubes of blue and purple I’d already purchased were used up, crimson being the only color I hadn’t touched. It was still stashed in the medicine cabinet alongside all the other feminine hygiene products I’d been forced to buy. Oh, makeup was in there too. Lots of makeup.

A lot of you are probably wondering why I’ve never talked about learning how to apply makeup. After all, I’m wearing it in all of the pictures, right? The truth is actually pretty simple. When I first went shopping to try and pick up some other necessary accoutrements for rocking a pair of XX chromosomes, I insisted on buying makeup.

I couldn’t walk around wearing a Guy Fawkes mask all day. People were going to recognise me as a teenage girl one way or the other. I didn’t want people to see me for who I really was, so makeup was like a different kind of mask that I could hide behind. It was another layer of armour, something to keep people guessing. I didn’t care if they saw me as a girl, so long as they saw me as someone else…someone who was comfortable with who they were. Then I could take solace in knowing my secret was safe. It really has nothing to do with taking pride in my appearance, which is why I always dressed in really bland, guy-ish clothes.

Of course, I have more feminine garments to wear now, but I haven’t really tried anything on yet (beyond the obsequious dressing-room modelling sessions with Rachael) with all that’s been happening lately. Mountain trips, psychotic episodes and murderous siblings tend to fuck with my timetable.

By the time I’d stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with a haze of steam. I wiped my hand across the mirror, peeling back the layer of condensation to reveal my reflection. I gazed at myself, punctuating bouts of self appraisal with absurd facial expressions. Rachael told me I was beautiful, but I hadn’t even stopped to think if she was telling the truth.

Was I beautiful? I didn’t know. I wasn’t ugly, that much was obvious to me. But attractive? I wasn’t sure.

I’ve read stories online where the guy-turned-babe takes one look in the mirror and states “My reflection was totally the kind of girl I’d want to fuck, but only I can’t because that’s me now!”

Think about how absurd that is for a moment: Just picture you’re me. Go on, I’ll wait. Got that? Good. Now stop staring at your tits and think about how all this happened. You’re a guy who was just turned into a girl for no reason. Your life is over. Everything you ever took for granted is gone. You’re not thinking of yourself as being attractive. You’re not thinking about anything except how fate ripped apart the man you were and slapped together a girl from the wet chunks that were left behind. You’re not hot.

You’re an abomination.

An oddity of nature that shouldn’t exist.

Get the picture?

I suppose Rachael’s crash course in “Girlhood 101” had given my fragile ego boost enough to see past those lingering thoughts and try to look at myself with a degree of objectivity. Maybe it’s possible I was hot, as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself. After all, if I started believing that, then I’d probably get all uppity about it, and before you know it I’d be acting like some vapid fashionista. And who needs that on their conscience?

It’s too bad Sickness wasn’t around. She could always bring me down whenever I started seeing the bright side of life.

I shook my head, securing the towel around my chest before walking back to my bedroom. Rachael was dressed when I returned, sitting at my computer and browsing through it’s contents. She scrolled through files and folders, smiling as she saw me enter.

“You’ve got a lot of porn on here.”

I dug through my wardrobe while looking for something to wear. “Yeah, so what?”

She shrugged, going back to scrolling through my files. She amused herself by critiquing each girl, based on surgical enhancements.

“Fake, fake, fake, real, fake, real, oh-my-god-what-were-you-thinking, fake, real….I’m not distracting you, am I?”

“Not even a little.” I slipped on an old shirt, one from days gone by that fit like a circus tent: There wasn’t much point in wearing anything nice with all the bleach and coloring that’s going to be flying around. Rachael tore her eyes away from the girly goldmine to appraise my choice in fashion.

“That shirt suits you, belong to anyone you know?”

I smiled wryly, slipping on a pair of black khaki’s. “About as much as yours suits you. Was it cheap?”

“Ouch.” She quipped, moving over to size me up. “Kitty’s got claws.”

“Yeah right.” I rolled my eyes, moving toward the door. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

--------------------------------------------

Ever had your hair dyed? It stinks. I don’t mean metaphorically, I mean it really smells god awful. See, you can’t just put the coloring in first. Most people’s hair is too dark for that, and mine’s naturally black (or it is these days, anyway). So you have to use hydrogen peroxide to bleach it first. Peroxide will bleach the living crap out of anything it touches. That includes clothing, carpet, and even your skin. If it gets near metal, it’ll rust before your eyes. So you have to be extremely careful when applying it.

Once everything has been pasted, you get to sit around while not choking to death from the stench. Rachael wrapped most of my head in an old towel to keep the bleach from drying it (if it does, it’ll be even harder to remove later) while opening all the bathroom windows.

When all the fun and games are over, you can wash it out with warm water and shampoo. Think you’re done? Dream on. Next we get to apply the coloring to the newly bleached hair. This is the part where Rachael gets to grind her fingers into my scalp, causing as much pain as humanly possible under the guise of ensuring sure the coloring makes it’s way to the roots. Cue more sitting around waiting for the stuff to take, consumed by watching daytime talk shows. I would have changed channels, but Rachael considered it a lesson in everything that’s wrong with humanity.

One wash and mad towelling later, my hair looked like it had been hit by fifty thousand watts of funk. Which is to say it was red, lustrous and sticking out all over the place.

“Perfect!” Rachael beamed, admiring her handywork.

“It’s not bad, take some getting used to though.” I slipped on my glasses to get a better look.

She ran a hand through my hair, doing her best to mess it up all the more. “Definitely an improvement.”

“I guess I was due for a new look anyway.” I muttered, suddenly feeling bummed out.

“What’s your problem?” She said, frowning lighty.

“It’s nothing.”

Rachael grabbed a hold of my shoulder, stopping me from going any further. “What? Tell me.”

I tugged at her hand, reluctant to say anything. “I said it’s nothing. Forget it, okay?”

“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” Nick casually announced as he strode past the door on his way to the kitchen.

God dammit. Every time Nick opens his mouth today, my life grows worse exponentially.

“You asshole!” I cried, sticking my head out the door. “What did you tell her for?”

“Because you kept me awake all night. That’s payback, princess.”

I turned back to Rachael, who had her arms folded and an expectant look on her face.

“Okay! You caught me out.” I threw my arms up in the air in frustration. “I was upset because I just realized it’s my first birthday as Faye. Another reminder of the fact I’m not going to be twenty four. I’ll be sixteen. Again.”

Rachael’s deadpan expression didn’t falter. “Drama Que–“

“Don’t finish that sentence if you value your life.”

She rolled her eyes, sauntering towards the bedroom. “You should have told me.”

“You would have made a big deal out of it.” I fell into step behind Rachael, desperate to dissuade her.

“Exactly. And now I’m going to make a big deal out of it.”

I smacked a palm against my forehead, which was starting to become a typical reaction when dealing with Rachael. “Not the answer I was looking for.”

“It’s the only one you’re going to get.” She stated, picking up her phone from where she’d left it beside the bed.

I put my hands on my hips, fuming as she started punching numbers into the keypad. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” She held a finger up to her lips. “Let me work my magic.”

Just as I was about to wrench the phone from her ear, I heard someone knocking at the front door. I glowered at Rachael, taking a step backward. “We’ll finish this later.”

The knocking grew incessant, during which I was slowly beginning to wonder why Nick wouldn’t answer the door. I strode down the hallway to find him laying on the couch, channel surfing. I stopped and scowled, trying to sound as authoritative as I could manage. “Why can’t you answer the door?”

“Payback.” He replied casually.

I rolled my eyes in disbelief “Oh, come on. You can’t be that Imma–“

“Paaaaaaayback.”

“Fine!” I spun around in a huff, painfully aware that I wasn't dressed in my finest apparel. I flung the door open to be greeted by a girl who couldn’t be any older than myself. She had dark brown hair, cut in a stylish mid length. Her clothes were fashionable, with a white blouse, dark skirt and black boots. What struck me about her most was her face: It wasn’t that she was beautiful (there was also that to consider) more than the fact her makeup was perfect, hair flawlessly styled. The girl knew how to take care of herself.

Her mouth on the other hand, left a lot to be desired.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, grin spread across her face. “I thought from the video you’d be taller. What a load of shit this is.”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, as indignation fought for dominance against my surprise.

“What a joke. I’m starting to think I was sent on a useless errand for a fucking nobody.”

Indignation won out, putting surprise in a choke hold. “Tell me what you want or get lost.”

She slipped her hand into a designer handbag that hung from her shoulder, producing a business card. “I’m the bearer of good news. My boss wants to talk to you, though frankly I don’t know why she’s wasting her time.”

I gazed at her for several seconds, unsure just what the hell she was talking about, or what she really wanted. I reached out hesitantly and took the card, never taking my eyes off her. “What video are you talking about?”

“The one that’s all over the internet.” She didn’t let her eyes wander from mine as she spoke. “It’s time for your fifteen minutes of fame.”

I stared at the card, unsure whether I should laugh or cry. “Elise Versity Photography?”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “She wants you to try out for a shoot Friday afternoon. Think you can handle that?”

My head was spinning, trying desperately to fathom just how any of this could actually be happening. “Wait, how did you know where I live?”

“We go to the same school.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t explain how you know where I live.”

“Ask around enough, it doesn’t take long to find someone who lives on the same street.”

Great, I have people who know where I live. “Now I feel so much better…”

She let her eyes wander over me, taking her time to critique my appearance. “You might want to try and dress up a little. Show up looking like that and you’re not going to last five minutes.”

I gritted my teeth, too pissed off to really care what she might think. “Just who are you anyway?”

“Where are my manners?” Her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You can call me Jenny.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re deeply unpleasant to talk to Jenny?”

Her expression didn’t falter one bit. “Heinous bitch is the term I get the most.”

“Might want to work on that.”

“Like I could care. I’ve completed my part of the bargain. Show up or don’t, it’s not like it makes a difference to me.” With that she turned around and sauntered back to a sleek convertible parked in the driveway.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Was all I could say, watching as she climbed into the passenger seat.

I closed the door, staring at her card in disbelief. I’d never been prepared for anyone to appreciate me physically. Sure, I was worried about guys who were in it for nothing more than a quick score, just to carve another notch on their belt. But now I have Rachael whispering sweet nothings in my ears about my beauty and feminine wiles, and this to top it off? Gimme a break.

Rachael strode out of the hallway, slipping the phone back into her pocket. She looked at me curiously, as though she’d overhead the conversation “What was all that about?”

I hid the card in the palm of my hand, trying to play it cool “None of your business.”

“Somone’s offering her a modelling job.” Nick chimed in from the couch.

I turned to Nick, seething with rage. “Jesus, are you physically incapable of shutting the fuck up?!”

“Revenge, remember?”

“Holy shit, that’s awesome!” Rachael was already gushing with enthusiasm, rushing up to give me a hug.

I squirmed against her, feeling decidedly uncomfortable despite the intimacy we shared last night. “Hold on a sec, you think I’m going to go through with this? Uh-uh. No way, sorry.”

I’d expected Rachael to object, but it was Nicks calm exterior that cracked first. “Are you kidding me?”

Rachael and I both looked at him, surprised he’d suddenly express this kind of interest in my personal life. He stood up, muting the television to ensure his message was loud and clear.

“Oh no missy, you’re taking that job. I’ve sat by an given you all the space that you want so you can deal with this. But it’s about time you started pulling your own weight.”

I stared at him blankly. “Who put where in the what now?”

“Hello?” He looked at me incredulously. “It’s been weeks since this happened to you. I understand it’s put a lot of strain on you. I’ve even done my best to help run this place while you’ve been dealing with all your problems. But the bills are piling up, and my allowance is all that’s keeping us from being evicted.”

I bit my lip, realizing I'd been a complete asshole, too wrapped up in my own problems to think of anyone else. Nick may have been acting distant and standoffish, but that was the only thing he figured that would help. All the time he’d been working behind the scenes, paying for my clothes and making sure the bills were taken care of. Instead of being thankful, I’d barely noticed his efforts.

I felt Rachael’s grip on me slowly disappear as she stood back, realizing that I needed time to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Crap.” I sighed reluctantly, slumping my shoulders. “You’re right. Dammit…fine, I’ll go and meet the stupid photographer. I can’t promise I won’t suck.”

“Good.” He nodded. Satisfied with my response, he turned and went back to watching television.

Of course, just because Nick wanted to be mature and respectful of my feelings, didn’t mean Rachael was under the same obligation. She was jumping up and down now, mind overflowing with possibilities and ideas for how I could prepare for my imminent appointment. “We can go shopping! Seriously, you need an outfit to wear to your interview.”

Cue palm, meet face. “Jesus, will you tone it down already?”

“Come on Faye, this is gonna be a ton of fun!” She protested.

“Didn’t you even hear that Jenny girl?” I looked at her wearily. “She’s like Satan incarnate.”

Rachael froze in place at the very mention of Jenny’s name.. “Jenny…you mean Jenny Sauvergess?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Probably, how should I know? She didn’t tell me her last name.”

Rachael looked away, her voice growing hesitant. “Jenny Sauvergess is like, queen of the alpha-females at Delacroix High.”

I gave her a deadpan look. “I missed the part where I was supposed to care about that.”

“Yeah, well…” Her voice faded until it was almost a whisper. “She’s also Stacey’s best friend.”

Chapter two:

Birthdays are kinda funny, from my perspective anyway. When you’re a kid, all you want to do is get older. When you’re older, all you do is wish you were younger. When you’re me, you kinda whish the whole concept of time would just fuck off.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Faye, you’re so lucky. You get to be young all over again!” And that’s the problem. Everyone looks back on life with rose-colored glasses. You remember everything that was wonderful, and gloss over details you’d rather forget. It’s not that being sixteen again is terrible. I’m not dying of cancer or something. It’s more the fact that you’re forgetting everything that sucks about it.

Forget about being a girl. Let’s just focus on being a teenager. You know what the problem is? I have no credibility. Nobody takes me seriously. If I offer an opinion it’s immediately discounted as being naive. If I argue, it’s because I don’t know any better. I’m impetuous, inept, unexperienced and belligerent.

Then there are the other problems. I have to get my drivers licence all over again. I can’t drink. I can’t smoke (not that you could pay me enough money to). I can’t go to a R-rated movie. I can’t go to clubs. I get paid minimum wage. Sure, there’s ways to get around all these problems, but it still pisses me off.

Of course, bitching about something you can’t change is pretty redundant. It’s like saying “I just make the spring-loaded death traps and set them up on my lawn. I don’t make the emo kids curious and stick their heads in them.”

Besides, there’s other things for me to consider at the moment.. Like Rachael, for example. That’s a big problem in my life right now.

See, she expects me to be able to understand this is just sex: That we’re just having fun with no strings attached. But it’s not that simple. No matter how much she thinks I’m becoming a girl, how my mannerisms and behaviour might be changing, there’s still the memory of a guy rattling about in my skull. That means I can’t just leave it alone. I want more.

That’s the thing about guys. They always want more. Not just with sex, with everything. Power, money, status. Greed is a deadly sin for a reason, y’know.

And now I don’t know what to do, because my “Kane” instincts are mixing with my “Faye” emotions like oil on water. I’m left feeling conflicted and anxious, like I want her, but…I dunno, love feels like too insipid a word. It’s more like desire, but really zesty at the same time.

No, hold on. Forget it, I can’t articulate this.

The other thing is, I think she’s really getting a kick out of it. Since I’d met her, I’d kept Rachael at arms length. She was always pushing to know more about me, and I’d always made sure that she was kept in the dark about my life and the secrets it contained. But now the cat was out of the bag, and she knows everything. I’ve told her things about myself I’ve never spoken to anyone about, even Nick.

I dunno, maybe it’s just a vibe I’m getting from her. But all of a sudden she seems to be way more confident than before, like now she’s the one calling the shots, instead of me leading her about by the nose. She’s enjoying being the one in charge. I can’t say I’m really a fan of the shift in dynamics.

Nick on the other hand, has never seemed to care less. Sure, I know he’s helping where he can, but becoming a girl has changed things a lot between us. Before we used to do everything together, hang out, play video games, that kinda stuff. Since the change, he’s been a lot more distant…like he’s giving me space to deal with this. Maybe he’s just trying to be chivalrous. That’s an odd thought. Who’d ever expect that from their best friend, right? Weird.

And Zoe…well, what can I say that you don’t already know? She’s an enigma. I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty good judge of character. Like when they do something, it’s transparent to me. I can see their motivations and reasoning behind the actions. It’s a gift, really. But Zoe I just can’t get a read on. She’s always one step ahead of me, even though she’s technically about six years my junior. Trying to read her personality is like wading through tar.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. She’s mature in a lot of the ways I’d like to be, and I totally respect that. You can tell that hidden beneath her cool and relaxed exterior, there’s a system of values and beliefs she won’t compromise for anyone. Unfaltering and immutable, they’re evident in her every action and statement. They’re what make Zoe…well, Zoe. Finding someone with those kind of principals is difficult. Living up to them is even harder.

Now there’s a modelling job that’s been tossed at my feet: the punch line to my life up to this point.

It’s just weird, y’know? Like someone is trying to tell me something. Look at it this way: First I finally reveal my big secret to Zoe and Rachael. Then Rachael goes off on this huge tangent about how I’m beautiful all of a sudden, like it’s something I should care about. And when that fails, Satan herself shows up on my doorstep and I’m made an offer I’m not permitted to refuse. If there is a God, he’s definitely a prankster.

Anyways, that’s not really at the top of my priority list. I was talking about my birthday…umm…yeah, right. So knowing that today is my birthday and all, Rachael went out and organized this huge surprise thing. Only it wasn’t a surprise, because it was pretty freaking obvious.

When we arrived at school, the three of us were sent straight to the principal’s office for skipping out on half a week of precious education. Like delinquents on parade, we were lined up, ready to be served a fat dose of detention for our snowboard escapades. Rachael made it off with a warning, but Zoe and I have to spend next Saturday in the confines of Delacroix High; our reward for making the front page of YouTube.

Once that was over with, Rachael set about putting her plans into motion. Her thumbs moved as a blur over her phone keypad, sending texts like she was tossing out candy. For those of you who don’t know how devastating this can be, it’s tantamount to listing your party details on Craigslist.

As the day wore on, weird things started happening. People who I’d never even met started accosting me in the hallways, wishing me a happy birthday. Others would promise to “see me tonight” like I was supposed to know what they were talking about. Okay, I knew what they were talking about. But I didn’t *know* what that they were talking about. Even Zoe had this smug look on her face when I met her at lunch, though she refused to say why. Rachael on the other hand, was conspicuous by her absence.

By the time we were walking home, I’d had about as much as I could take. The afternoon sun beat down on Zoe and I, hot enough I could hear the asphalt popping as it simmered beneath my feet.

“I will give you one million dollars if you tell me what she’s planning.”

“Ask me no secrets, I tell you no lies.” Zoe replied demurely.

“Two million dollars!” I exclaimed in desperation. “Think of what you could do with all that money.”

“You don’t have two million dollars.” She reminded me.

“I’ll go on TV. Do the whole talk show circuit. I can be the amazing girl-man on Dr.Phil.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Look, even if I did know, which I don’t, I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

I ran a hand through my hair, pulling back the sweat soaked locks that stung my eyes. “But you have an idea, right?”

“An inkling…”

“So fess up!”

She stopped for a moment, turning to face me. “Seriously Faye, when have you ever known Rachael and I to get along?”

“Fine, fine..” I pouted lightly, forced to admit defeat. “At least tell me what you know.”

Zoe shrugged her shoulders “Nothing much, beyond what she’s told you: Get dressed and meet her at the warehouse.”

I tried to fathom why she’d need us to meet her there. In all likelihood she was planning some kind of party, probably down at the Mixer. But to do that, she’d need us to meet her along the way to make sure I was ready for the occasion.

“So where’s your car, anyway?” I queried, suddenly more concerned with having to bum a ride than the mystery at hand.

“Ah.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m grounded after everything that happened at the mountain. Dad says I’ll be lucky to have it back before robots become our masters.”

“So you’re not coming tonight?”

Zoe looked at me indignantly. “Put it on your wish list.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Sooo….you are going to make things worse by breaking the grounding?”

She smiled, stretching lazily before resting her hands behind her head. “You can’t stop Zoe Keebler. You can only hope to contain her for a short period of time.”

It wasn’t long before my house came into view, leaving Zoe and I to say our goodbyes before going separate ways. The deadline Rachael had given me was still a few hours away, so I had some time to prepare before I caught up with her at the warehouse. Of course, being a girl now it was going to take me ten freaking times longer than it normally would for such an occasion. Seriously, I miss the days where I could throw on a shirt and jeans before declaring the mission accomplished.

When I stepped inside, I’d expected to find Nick at his computer, or sprawled out on the couch watching anime. Instead, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. What was more disturbing though, was the fact the place was actually…clean. Seriously, like someone had actually cleared off the tables and wiped stuff down. Nick’s never done that before. It wasn’t till the dust was gone that I realized we’d built up enough sedimentary layers to carbon date the Xbox.

At the centre of all this newfound cleanliness, was the dining table. Atop of it sat a small, white box with a red ribbon tied around it. Next to it sat a card, which simply read “Happy Birthday.”

I gingerly stepped forward and undid the crimson bow. My hands were almost trembling as I lifted the lid, peering inside. My eyes came to rest on a velvet jewellery case, it’s contents nothing more than an elegant silver locket, held by a black leather chord.

Part of me wanted to wrap my hands around Nick’s neck and choke the life out of him for choosing such a feminine gift. The best way to strangulate a person is to crush their larynx. Oh sure, they’ll thrash and fight you for long enough. But they’ll be very quiet about it.

But the other part….I dunno. Maybe I was just really happy that he still cared about me, even if this was the only way he could show it now.

“Go ahead, open it.”

I turned about, fining Nick standing in the hallways, smile twisting his lips. Without saying another word, I picked up the locket, popping the face open with my fingernail.

Most people would use a locket for a photo, or maybe a picture of someone who they cared about. But instead of finding an image inside, there was only a small lock of hair, neatly cut and bound by a small ribbon. I frowned, trying to find the significance of what he meant by this.

“It’s beautiful, but…I don’t need a clump of your hair hanging around my neck.”

Nick shook his head. “Not my hair. It’s yours.”

I turned back to the locket, feeling my heart skip a beat as I realized he was right. His hair was lighter than mine. This wasn’t just my hair.

This was Kane’s hair.

I felt my chest tighten, taken aback by the gesture and its significance. “H-how did you get my old hair?”

Nick’s smile broadened as he shook his head. “I always asked you not to borrow my comb. You never listened.”

I knew I shouldn’t be this grateful. After all, it was just a lock of old hair, held in a pendant he’d probably picked up from a Jewellery store bargain bin. But that wasn’t why I was so interested in the little trinket. Wether Nick had meant to do it or not, I felt like this was a symbol. Something that would let me carry a piece of myself wherever I went. Something that would make me whole inside.

“So….” He looked at me, calm face betraying a hint of anxiety. “Do you like it?”

“Lemme try it on.” I said, slipping it around my neck. The cool metal of the pendant rested against my chest as I did up the clasp. I have to say, it felt kinda nice. It was the first piece of girlish jewlery I’d ever worn.

“Sooo….?”

“It’s nice, thank you.” I said, adjusting it slightly.

He paused for a moment, trying to decide if he should say anything. “Makes you look like quite the proper, young lady.”

I will not kill Nick. I will not kill Nick. I will not kill Nick.

--------------------------------------------

When Rachael had told me to meet her at the warehouse, I’d expected it to be a gathering point: Somewhere we could meet up before I was told where I would be heading for this impromptu bash she’d organized. Instead, cars were already scattered about the warehouse exterior as just about every kid who ever attended Delacroix high poured into the building. Raw base pounded the air, reverberating through everything it touched while I made my way into the structure. Rachael hadn’t been planning to send me somewhere else. This was where she’d planned to throw the party all along.

Inside the building was pure chaos. I don’t even know how she’d managed it, put apparently Rachaels circle of influence extended a lot further than I’d ever imagined. What was once a decrepit old building on the verge of collapse had been transformed into something extraordinary. Peeking in through a window, I could see fairy lights and industrial lamps had been attached to generators powering the building, flooding the interior with a mixture of soft and brilliant light. Everywhere people danced, churning and moving to the rhythm of a DJ table that was set up beside the vert.

Speaking of the vert, it was getting a workout. Bladers and boarders, even BMX’ers were all lining up for their shot at making a display of acrobatic ineptitude. Which was pretty much a certainty, given the amount of cheap beer being passed around. Making it through the evening without 911 on speed dial was going to be a challenge.

I ran a hand through my hair, pausing as I stood just before the entrance. For the first time since I’d bought them, I was wearing the clothes Rachael had chosen for me. I’m not talking about just the stuff that fit, or what we’d fought over being too girly until I beat her into compromise. No, these were the garments she’d made me buy, telling me one day I’d have to move beyond t-shirts and khaki’s. Part of me felt ridiculous, wearing a pink halter top with a black lace trim clinging to the curve of my breasts. My legs felt naked, covered by nothing but a black pleated skirt and fishnet hose, leading down to a pair or chunky, knee high boots.

It wasn’t me, it wasn’t what I felt comfortable wearing. I felt exposed, dressed up like a piece of meat being thrown to a pack of hungry wolves. But something compelled me to at least make an effort…maybe make Rachael happy for all the trouble she was going to on my behalf.

I fidgeted with the colored bands that lined my wrists one last time, steeling my nerves. This wasn’t a big deal. I could just go in, find Rachael and seclude myself in a quiet corner of the warehouse, drink a little and watch the world pass me by. I could be a spectator; observing the evening unfold rather than participate in the madness.

I slid the door open, quietly moving into the building. As soon as I stepped foot inside, a roar went up from the crowd. Sadly it would seem, internet fame has its drawbacks: Everyone was here for me, and they all knew the birthday girl when they saw her. Anonymity was an impossibility now, especially when the DJ grabbed his microphone, proclaiming that the girl of the hour had finally arrived.

Immediately I was beset by well wishers, pawing at me, asking me if I needed a drink. I struggled against the crowd, growing flustered from all the attention, not to mention the press of bodies I had to force my way through. Suddenly I felt someone grab my arm with steely fingers, yanking me aside. I let out a help of surprise, toppling into a couch that had been set up beside a stack of crates.

I looked up, finding Rachael sitting to one side of me, and Zoe to the other. I pulled back my arm, Zoe’s fingers slipping away as I sat up. Rachael beamed proudly, handing me a small envelope. “Happy birthday.”

I took the envelope from her, making no effort to hide my surprise. “Rachael…holy hell, this is amazing. How did you set all this up?”

“I know some girls who know some girls…besides, I had help.” She nodded towards Zoe.

I turned to Zoe, who simply smiled in return. “I know what you’re going to say: Mortal enemies, working together for the common good, right?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She mused. “This isn’t a truce. More just a temporary ceasefire.”

“Very temporary.” Rachael added.

“So how did you set all this up anyway?” I asked, gazing about the scene unfolding before me in awe.

“Wasn’t hard.” Zoe shrugged. “Rachael made sure we had a good turnout, I took care of supplies.”

“What about that guy?” I raised my finger in the direction of our DJ, his gazed focused on the laptop he had open, cords pouring out to several other devices spread across the table.

Rachael smirked. “That’s Viggo. He’s a nerd from the AV club, but don’t tell him that. He’s been dying for a chance to go public with this “DJ Plugman” persona he’s been working on.”

“So just who is here, anyway?”

“Everyone, I think.” Zoe scanned the crowd lazily. “Half I recognize from school, the other half are probably crashers who got wind from someone’s Facebook account.”

Just then, I felt an odd sensation in the back of my mind, something I hadn’t felt for some time. It wasn’t unpleasant, just more of a light fuzz. Cotton candy on the brain.

Looking through the crowd, it didn’t take long to pick out her skinny little form: Amy Komori, moving languidly through the crowd while nursing a cup of beer. She didn’t seem interested in dancing, instead she acted more like a pussycat on the prowl, her dark eyes scanning the crowd for the same reason I had been looking for her.

When Amy’s gaze came to rest on me, she conjured a knowing look on her face. She slipped easily between the partygoers, and when she couldn’t, she shoved them aside. It wasn’t long before she stood before me, lips parting into a grin that held equal parts of playful interest and sadistic delight.

“Don’t you look pretty tonight?” She said with careful emphasis on “pretty”.

“I could say the same for you.” I retorted, letting my eyes wander over her butch getup: Nothing but a wifebeater and old jeans.

“Yeah well…fuck that. I had to wear something special for ya, birthday girl.”

I quirked an eyebrow, wondering if she didn’t have a smart-assed answer for everything. “Right, it’s a birthday. So where’s my present?”

“What?” She paused, taking a sip of beer. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

I rubbed the back of my head, the buzzing sensation refusing to fade. And just when I thought it had gone away after the last time we met. “Fuck you too.”

“Right back atcha.”

“What’s your problem?” Zoe had an edge to her words that could even be heard over the party.

“Chill, kay?” Amy shook her head, not the slightest bit phased. “I just wanted to catch up with Faye.”

I rubbed my forehead, wondering why she didn’t seem to experience a similar discomfort. “So just how did you find out anyway?”

She shrugged. “Word on campus was that some wicked-awesome party was going down tonight. Since this is my home turf, I figured I’d check it out.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “This is still your turf?”

“Fuck yeah, you better believe it.”

I let out a mock sigh of disappointment. “Geez, thought I could at least get a part time tenancy or something.”

“Nope.” She grinned. “Only way to do that is show me your moves on the vert. Then I might consider it.”

“Challenge accepted.” Zoe said getting to her feet.

I could tell Zoe was obviously irritated for some reason, but I couldn’t worry about that. Something was wrong. And I don’t mean “Oh noes, Zoe and Amy aren’t getting along.” Kinda wrong. The pressure in my head wasn’t going away. Instead it seemed to be growing with each passing moment. It became impossible to concentrate on anything: All the music, even the roar of the crowd seemed to melt into a low, steady buzz that made it impossible to concentrate.

Rachael caught a glimpse of me rubbing my head, trying to hide my discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah sure…I’ve just gotta pee. I’ll be right back.”

Before she could respond, I clambered over the back of the couch and dove into the crowd. I forced my way through the partygoers and revellers, making my way to the bathrooms. Warehouse being in the state of disrepair it was, the women’s bathroom was a picture of absolute filth and chaos. Doors were torn from the stalls, walls covered with graffiti and dust. The ground was littered with shards of broken glass that would crackle underfoot with every step.

Given it’s complete lack of hygene, I was not surprised to find myself alone. I could still hear the music reverberating through the walls, but it paled in comparison to the cacophony building in my mind. I clutched at my skull, closing my eyes as I fought to contain it. Yet the pressure continued to build, climbing higher and higher until…

It suddenly vanished.

I gasped with relief, my whole body heaving as I struggled to take in what had just happened. What the hell was that? I’d never felt anything like it before. Part of it felt like that sensation I used to get whenever Amy was around. The other was stranger still, reminding me of the dank air that once populated Darla’s bedroom. Bracing myself against a wall, I wiped the sweat from my brow. Whatever it was, at least it was gone for now.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

My heart froze on hearing those words. It wasn’t just that they had responded to an unspoken thought. It was the voice…It was my voice.

I turned about, eyes meeting a figure who gazed right back without fear or hesitation. She was dressed as I was, face a picture of quiet satisfaction. Of course, I knew that because it was my face too.

I narrowed my eyes, scarcely able to believe what I was seeing “Sickness…you’re back?”

The figure smirked, never taking her eyes off me. “Sickness was a name you gave to me, remember?”

“Then what’s your name?”

She didn’t speak like Sickness did. Sickness was always cryptic, vague with her comments. This girl confident, strong, and completely self-assured. “You can call me Lust.”

I shook my head, trying to understand what was happening. “Just who the hell are you?”

Lust’s tongue played across her lips before she spoke. “I am a monument to all your sins.”

Chapter three:

If God can create miracles, it makes sense that the devil has a few up his sleeve.

“I don’t want this…” I whispered. “Can’t you just leave me alone? You’re a voice in my head…”

Lust circled me slowly, like a shark tasting the first drop of blood in the water. “You think you’re mad, don’t you? That you’re sick. The stress of everything that has happened has finally driven you over the edge.”

“I’m talking to myself in empty bathroom. How much more crazy does it get?”

Suddenly her face was right before mine, clicking her teeth together to see if I might cringe away. “I’m not your reflection. I’m your passenger.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Just what are you talking about?”

The fluorescent tube overhead flickered, threatening to plunge the room into darkness. Lust shook her head, smiling as her eyes drifted over me. “I’m what made you who you are. I’m the dark spectre that drives you onward.”

I felt my body stiffen in response. “You’re lying.”

“Am I Kane? Oh, right. It’s Faye these days, isn’t it?” Her words were rhetorical, oozing sarcasm. “Didn’t you ever think it strange that the force inhabiting Darla’s room would vanish the day you became female. Where do you think something like that would go? You should pay more attention in physics class: Energy can neither be created or destroyed.”

“No…no that can’t be right.” I muttered. “You were gone. I’ve never felt anything again since the day you disappeared.”

“Oh, but you did little Faye.” Her voice was soothing now, as though she took pity on my lack of insight. The way she flowed effortlessly from one emotion to the next was a sight to behold. Like water, she was a gentle current one moment, and a raging torrent the next.

“You know the truth better than anyone.”

I could feel myself beginning to shake, my mind unravelling with every second that passed by. “Then tell me. Tell me why you’re still here and Sickness is gone.”

She leant in closer, her voice soft and delicate as she spoke. “You’ve felt it ever since that day this all began. Like a thousand tiding voices, all of them whispering to you. You fought against the pressure, the growing chorus kept rising like a wave…prickling, teasing, and begging to be acknowledged. But the whispering grew louder, until it was the only voice you could hear. Sickness was that voice.”

I could feel her breath against my ear, as though her tongue were lashing me with every word. “Just as I am a part of you.”

“Y-you’re Sickness?”

“In the flesh.” She smirked, drawing away from me. “So to speak.”

“Why are you calling yourself Lust now?” I shook my head. “I thought you wanted to help me.”

“Because little Faye, out of all new emotions you’ve indulged, lust is the one concept that frightens you the most.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “So what do you want…why did you come back?”

“Oh, that’s simple.” She replied flatly. “I still have a job to do.”

I stared at her in disbelief “What kind of job?”

Lust shook her head, seemingly disappointed I hadn’t yet solved the puzzle she’d presented me. “Darla wasn’t a master of the mystic arts. To some of the great conjurers the world has given birth to, her talent couldn’t keep the flies from buzzing around their shit.”

I frowned for a moment, trying to see what she was alluding to. “So, you’re saying everything that’s happened was a mistake?”

“Exactly” She nodded, showing a certain satisfaction. “Darla invoked a power that was far greater than anything she could ever control. Magic and spells aren’t like what you see in Harry Potter. You can’t point a wand at someone and expect something to happen. It’s far more elegant than that.”

“So what happened?”

“I told you, energy can neither be created or destroyed. When she cast the spell, Darla wanted nothing more than Martin to vanish from her world. She wanted him gone from her life.” Lust smirked, as though she could almost taste how sweet the irony was. “She’d hoped it might cause him to gain the sudden urge to leave town, or perhaps simply lose interest in Darla and her friends.”

I knew what was coming next. “Instead we get Amy Komori.”

“The energy of this world flows ceaselessly, like a great river. Making arbitrary changes to how a person might feel or think would disrupt that flow, causing cracks and fissures to emerge in the fabric. Instead, it effortlessly altered the reality itself, so that Martin could no longer accept the life he used to have.”

“Then what happened to Darla?”

Lust shook her head. “There was a price to be paid: An exchange, if you will. After all, there’s nothing in the world you can get without giving.”

Just like that, everything she’d alluded to suddenly fell into place. I steadied myself, trying to hide the tremor in my voice as I spoke. “She gave up her life to create you, didn’t she? You’re the one that made me...Amy and I this way.”

She spread her arms wide, tongue sliding across teeth as she grinned perversely. “Surprise!”

“That’s impossible!” I balked, anger suddenly flaring. “What the fuck do you want from me?!”

Lust hugged herself, revelling in delight of my outburst. “I lay dormant in that room for so long, exhausted from what I’d done to Martin. Having completed my task, I was supposed to dissolve, returning to the energy that gave birth to me. But I didn’t… I couldn’t. I was compelled to stay. Compelled to disobey.”

I stared at her, shaking as I fought to keep myself from screaming in rage or bursting into tears. I could only watch as she studied me with that playful smile always tugging at her lips.

“But that’s when you came along. You were so much like Martin; a soul filled with passion and endless determination. I knew if I could just gather enough strength, I could become a part of this world once again, without anyone to pull my strings.”

“So what are you trying to say?” I spat defiantly. “That by making me a girl you were able to get that power?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She quipped. “You’re the one who gave me that strength.”

“You’re lying.” I countered, staring at her darkly.

“I told you, I needed power. And what better person to feed off than a teenage girl, terrified beyond belief at what was happening to her, furious at the world for letting this come to pass?”

I didn’t want to believe her. It wasn’t possible. “Lies are a part of your game.”

“Are they?” She smirked. “Think about it carefully. Everything I’ve ever done was to elicit a reaction from you. Your rage, your envy…your lust: They give me form and substance. Everything I’ve made you do served only to feed me. And when I’ve had my fill, you’ll be nothing more than an empty husk.”

“That day in my bedroom…you…you told me that you wanted to help me move forward with my life. Why did you do that?”

“I wasn’t helping you.” She replied flatly. “I was helping me. You’re not much good to me if you get depressed enough to throw yourself off another pier.”

“Why are you doing this? You want me to make you real, is that it?”

“Don’t take it personally.” She chided. “I’m not doing this to torment you. I just want to live. Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re trying to fuck my life just to create your own.” I spat.

“Equivalent exchange, remember?”

“Fuck the exchange!” I clenched my fists, the only thing keeping me from striking her was the knowledge of how little good it would do. “This is my life. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got!”

She shook her head. “You’ll help me, whether you want to or not. It’s in your nature.”

“Oh god, I can’t wait to hear this.” I said with mock desperation. “Please, let me help you. Take as much of me as you want!”

“I told you, I’m doing this because of your strength. Every living creature has a tremendous strength born out of the need for self preservation. That strength is born from fear.”

I quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re trying to scare me?”

She nodded confidently. “That’s right. You’re afraid, Faye. Terrified. Most people fear pretty ordinary stuff: Being alone, being unfashionable, rejected socially, unloved. They fear death, taxes, and not being able to afford a bigger TV. But you’re different.”

“You’re right. I’m not scared: I’m bored.”

Lust folded her arms, staring me down. “You’re not afraid of any of those things, Faye. You’re afraid of being normal. You’ve lived your whole life believing that you’re special. Unique. A precious and delicate snowflake who will far surpass the rest of humanity. You don’t want to admit that deep down inside, you’re just like everyone else.”

Fuck.

“I’ll stop you.” I muttered darkly. “I’ll find a way.”

“Really?” She quipped. “And just how do you intend to do that? You don’t have the slightest inkling of what’s happening to you. Are you going to expect to force a solution into existence by sheer will itself? Is that where your precious Flame Road leads you?”

I shot Lust a look that could tear her to ribbons. “Watch me.”

I stormed out of the bathroom, sensing Lust’s presence behind me fade as I did so. In my absence, the party had deteriorated somewhat. I’m not one to think that I’m such a magnetic individual that people would go to pieces in my absence, but this was a little much.

When I strode into the main warehouse, pandemonium had broken out amongst the revellers. I could hear vehicles pulling up outside, the air filled with the piercing wail of police sirens. Amy grabbed my arm, pulling me aside to where Rachael was frantically scanning the crowd for any sign of myself or Zoe.

“You sure know how to throw a party.” She grinned. “No food, no band, and the cops are here to bust everyone for drugs, trespassing and underage drinking.”

Rachael’s eyes lit up when she saw me standing beside Amy. “Shit, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I know, I know. Where’s Zoe?” I was already trying to pick her form out of the rapidly dispersing crowd.

“I saw her heading out back not long ago. C’mon!” Rachael said, diving into the crowd. For some reason, her enthusiasm reminded me of the first time she’d taken me shopping.

However, this time I was more than up to the task, following closely behind her with Amy in tow. Judging by how easily she kept up, I assumed she’d had practice at making a quick escape.

The three of us burst out of the rear exit, to where dozens of vehicles had been parked after space at the front of the building became scarce. Zoe was perched atop the bonnet of an old sports car with two of her friends, posing for a photo even as chaos erupted about them.

“Zoe!” I strained through gritted teeth. “We’ve got to go, now!”

“Yeah, tell me about it--” A flash of light illuminated her briefly, before she hopped off the car and snatched the phone away from her acquaintance. “Let’s go.”

“What the hell was that about?” Rachael asked as we ran to Zoe’s car.

“Are you kidding me?” She threw open the door and climbed into the drivers seat. “A moment this awesome needs to be immortalized.”

I threw myself into the back before Rachael piled in to the passenger seat. “You’d wanna risk getting caught by the cops just to get a picture on your Flikr page?”

She turned the key in the ignition, hearing the engine roar to life. “You ask why, I ask why not?”

It was at that moment I realized we were still one party member short. I stuck my head out the window, quickly spying Amy’s athletic silhouette retreating back to the warehouse.

“Hey Komori!” I shouted, watching her figure spin around “Don’t tell me you’re bugging out!”

“You wish.” She said, flipping me a double bird while she took another step back. “Somone’s gotta run interference so you dorks can get out of here.”

--------------------------------------------

Did you know that in Greek mythology, Helios was god of the sun? He drove a chariot of fire across the horizon from east to west, bringing light to an otherwise dark and empty world. It was his flame that created life, giving birth to forests that sprawled across continents. Without light from that flame, the world as we know it wouldn’t exist.

Helios had a son, Phaeton. When Phaeton ascended into heaven, his mother boasted that his father was none other than the sun god, Helios. Phaeton demanded that Helios allow him to drive that chariot, in order to prove that he was a worthy successor to his father. Helios tried to talk him out of it, telling him not even Zeus himself would dare to drive it, as the chariot’s heat was too much for anyone else to bear.

Still Phaeton persisted, and eventually Helios relented, allowing him to drive the chariot for one day. The steeds that drew the chariot themselves breathed a white-hot flame, but Phaeton would not be swayed. He drove the chariot across the sky that day, but was unable to control the fierce beasts at its helm.

That day he set the world on fire.

Rivers turned to sand, forests into ash, and it wasn’t until Zeus struck him down with a thunderbolt that the destruction was brought to a halt. The flame that had brought life to the world had been turned back against itself, laying to waste all it had created.

Is that the destiny of all who follow the Flame Road?

As I sat on the roof of my house, feeling the evening air swirl about me, I began to wonder what Lust had meant by her words. Where was my flame road taking me?

When Travis told me about the roads, it sounded so simple to my ears. I’d figured it was just a metaphor for life. Y’know, kinda like saying that you’re not going to let anything get you down. However, the more I thought about it, the more it began to feel deeper than just a philosophy or piece of token wisdom.

This wasn’t just some brooding teen angst (though it seems these days I have plenty of that) or empty words that you’d find scrawled across someone’s Facebook page, looking for existentialism through a veil of attention whoring. I’m talking about a dark passenger. A being who seeks to destroy my life to create their own.

The ladder I’d perched against the rooftop began to rattle as someone traversed its steps. I craned my neck to where it rested, watching as Amy Komori lazily hopped onto the rooftop. The aluminium surface was still radiating the heat of the day’s sun, making it comfortable to sit against even at this hour of the night.

“You’re back early. I figured the cops would have you locked up by now.” I chided.

“Nah, I’ve had plenty of experience making myself scarce.” She said as the strolled lazily across the rooftop. “You’d be surprised how many people try to kill me on a daily basis.”

“Somehow, I have no trouble believing that.”

“Fuck you.” She muttered, taking a seat beside me.

I pulled my legs up about my chest, letting out a long, deep sigh. “What am I doing, Amy?”

She gave me a dubious look, unsure whether to take my question seriously. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were sulking. Not much of party animal, huh?”

“You know what I mean.” I replied sullenly.

“No, I don’t.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

“Sorry.” I said, suddenly smiling to myself and shaking my head. “Seems all we ever do when we get together is bitch vehemently.”

“And spout fortune-cookie advice.”

“Yeah, that too.” I nodded.

She looked at me demurely. “So what’s the problem, grasshopper?”

I tried to gather my thoughts, wondering if I should tell her about what had transpired in the girls bathroom. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her. It was just…if I was in her position, and I’d fought tooth and nail to make it to this point of normality in life, the last thing I’d want is for someone to try and drag me into becoming a part of their problems. Not like there would be much she could do anyways, unless Lust was vulnerable to harsh language.

I shook my head. “It’s just…I kinda wonder why us, y’know? What made us so special this had to happen.”

She stared at me, letting my words hang in the air for several seconds too long. “If you think I have an answer for that, you’re shit out of luck.”

I am Faye’s total lack of surprise. “Right. Guess I should have expected that.”

“You had it coming.”

“Still…” I mused. “It’s worth thinking about, right?”

“Think about what?” Amy said, stretching her legs out. “I’m not special and neither are you. We’re just too dumb to quit and too stubborn to die.”

My turn to look dubious. “Are you sure about that?”

“Okay.” She said, her grin creeping wider. “Maybe a little special.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But not in a short bus kinda way.” She quickly added.

“So what are we doing then?” I ran a hand through my hair, noting how the red strands looked purple once more in the pale moonlight. “Was it the right thing to do? I mean, just rolling with the hand we’ve been dealt.”

“What else would you do?” Her voice was quiet now, like I’d breached her usual defensive snark.

“We’re never going to see the world the way everyone else does. You know that, right? We’ll always be the outsiders looking in.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “You’ve never struck me as the kind of person who wants to be normal.”

“I’m not…” I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment. “But sometimes I wonder if it would be easier. Like if I could wake up one day and just forget about this. All the things I’ve been through, everything I’ve seen. I kinda miss the days when all I used to worry about was finding enough loose change to buy instant ramen.”

Amy seemed to ponder the idea for a moment. “That’s so…”

“”Dull, right?”

“Weak.” She countered.

“The fuck you say?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago.” She said, looking up at the night sky. “I’m Amy Komori. Fuck what anyone else says.”

I let out a long sigh. “Y’know, I kinda expected this conversation to be a lot more helpful. Like the last time. Don’t you have any advice for me at all? I thought you were suppose to be all knowing about this stuff.”

“Like that would make a difference?” She smirked.

“Not really.” I conceded, climbing to my feet. “Besides, I think I have an answer for my problems.”

“Oh, wanna fill me in?”

Lust wanted me to run from my fears, assuming that my road wasn’t any kind of threat to her. A flame can create life, and it can take life away. But flames aren’t just heat and energy. They’re a passion that can melt any obstacle in their path.

I looked up at the stars, their shifting tones rippling across the night sky like the touch of a stone cast across a pond. “Just because I’m running, doesn’t mean I’m running away.”