And so it begins.

"Alright, class. Settle down, please. Shall we go over our assignment from last night?" In front of the whiteboard was my teacher, her brown, elegant-looking dress drooping to her heels. It must have been a Tuesday.

I hauled out my big book o' pre-algebra from my backpack, and flipped to page 93 – in which there were several graphing questions that I'd agonized over the nightbefore. Why do these teachers feel like they have to torture us, even when we're away from their grasp? I figured it was because the principal paid them lousy money for it. Pfft, some living that would make.

Anyway, where did my paper go? It wasn't there where I'd stuffed it. A blushing sweat rushed over me. This was embarrassing. I hurriedly rummaged through my stuff, fingers searching every dark corner of my bag for it. All the time I was wondering why I had to bore myself with this incredibly dull pre-alg stuff every day- when I could be a hero already by this time.

I could be saving the cat from that tree. Get my name in the papers and on TV and everything. The whole enchilada.

Yeah. That's the life. People just going on, chanting my name like a celebrity or something. Tre! Tre! Tre! Tre...

"Ahem, Tre!"

That one, unlike the others, was not just in my head.

Oh, darn. I felt a shiver up my spine. My teacher must have noticed me. I didn't dare to look up. I just sunk like a tall, brown stick into my sweatshirt, frozen in my seat.

I'd hoped I could disappear.

"Mr. Listman!" she called. My name. And when she says "mister", you know you're getting it good. She was going in for the kill.

Here I was in the starkness of the most white and cookie-cutter classroom you could find anywhere on the planet, the unwilling star of a government-mandated reality TV show.

Welcome to Fillmore Junior High. Enjoy your learning.

"Mr. Listman!" she said. "Would you kindly come up front and show us how you did question no. 1!"

...How did I do it again? I was trudging between the long desk rows of desks, to the front of the classroom. I swear my legs had some lead weight then. Then before I knew it, I was right beside Miss McGraw, and she had her hand out to me with the whiteboard marker. I gulped. Her big, cute, brown eyes were scrutinizing me all over. Man, she can be pretty sometimes, I admit. If only she weren't such a... well, a bum.

I took the marker.

"Well, first, uh, " I went, facing my class— I got stage fright. "I to-took the equation of the line... and then, er, I determined the line's... slantedness?"

"Come on, Tre, it's the slope!" some chick yelled from the back.

"Yeeeeeah, that thing. The slope. After that, I..."

My mind went blank. The classroom was eyeballing me. I could feel their gazes burning away at my head.

"I..." I went. There was nothing but the slow tick, tick, tick of the overhead clock. "—excuse me, I gotta go to the bathroom."

And I zipped right out the door and made a beeline straight to the men's restroom, where I stayed in one of the stalls, waiting for the bell to ring.

Phew, that was close. I'd pick my stuff up on the break, provided the teacher hadn't confiscated it.

Or that someone hadn't taken a whizz on it.

I'm a scaredy-cat like that.

After I picked up my pack from the classroom amid the chaos of shuffling people, I was heading away from that place - looking behind my shoulder every which second for any signs of McGraw's wrath. When I went around a couple of corners, into the foyer, I saw she wasn't chasing after me.

I was safe at last.

Maybe.

You never know if she's really calling the principal on you.

Things can get really unfair here, for that matter. There was this guy I knew named Jose Magellan once, and I saw him drop his chewed gum on the floor, and my English teacher like stepped on the thing.

I didn't know if Jose did that on purpose, or if the teacher even glanced back at him. All I knew was, I saw the teacher walk on like she wasn't bothered – Jose and I, and a lot of others were holding their mouths shut in a sort of awe. Holy cow. I actually believed Jose could have gotten away with that.

Before I knew it however, Jose got called away to the principal's office the next morning. They'd announced his name loud on the P.A. He had his head down as he went there, didn't say a word.

Gosh knows what happened when the principal shut the door. The windows were blocked out and everything. Cale said it was like Room 101 in The Darabonts, where the teachers put truth serum up his butt and made him watch a whole ton of anti-fun videos until he came out a totally different guy.

I'd be kicking and screaming— well, um, yelling (cause screaming's kinda girly) if they ever did that to me.

Or tried to, anyway. They'll never take me alive!

Anyway, that was the last time I ever saw Jose. I only heard rumors after, that Jose got liquidated, or that he was walking out of there literally grinning from ear to ear, or that he ratted out every name he could think of so he wouldn't get in trouble alone. I'd hate to imagine if that had happened – and the idea got everyone scared, wetting their pants.

But yeah, we never saw him again at Fillmore, and we never got to know exactly why. Everyone was paranoid after that. Better watch your backs, or they'll throw you into Magellan's Locker.

--

the school foyer.

(just then.)

T'was the break period, and everyone was hanging out in the foyer, sitting by the walls playing with their PSPs or chatting. A group of guys were throwing their paper airplanes in some contest.

I couldn't care much anyways. I was all over looking for my friends, when— everyone was standing up all of a sudden, moving away to make some space at the middle of the floor, and there was the silence like before the national anthem starts playing at the gym. Except in this case, the national anthem would be "My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard".

I knew who it was.

Right then and there, I saw the Blondies.

They were strutting down in line straight between the others, like royalty walking. They had the deep red lipstick on their lips - the high and mighty shrug on their tight shoulders, and the white and red matching outfits they had on. You just can't breathe when you see them. It's like hypnosis or something.

(I would tell you all their names, but I'm always nervous one of them'll nab me here in mid-sentence. *double take* Yeah.)

They were walking towards me. I didn't realize it at first. I thought I was too unimportant to even get noticed. In the grand scheme of Fillmore's food chain, I was the little mouse. It had its advantages, being close to invisible, but you have to make sure you don't get trampled on, let's say, by the gossip girls and the hussies. They can be lots of trouble if you ever see their bad sides, and believe me, I have experience.

The Blondies were standing in front of me. It was me and them here in the playing field. Cue the tumbleweed rolling by in the background. I gulped. What did they want out of me? The whole thing reeked of suspiciousness.

Then their leader stepped forth – I'll be breaking my 'bout of paranoia, but I'll tell you, her name was Lilly Everdeen. If the ordinary blonde was a candle, she would be the lightbulb. She had on this white headband which brushed back all that curling hair, and I could see her face, being close to a perfect beauty. No acne breakouts (I want what she's having), thick outward lashes, smooth skin, and her blue steely eyes gazing me over.

She was talking to me.

I was as tense as heck, did I mention that? I was on the verge of kneeling on the floor, to bow down to Her Graciousness, and say out loud, "I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! I'm scum! I suck!" But I stood my ground. Wasn't gonna let that get the best of me.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey." I gulped, and tugged my collar open.

"Tre... is that right?"

"Um, yep. That's me. Heh."

"I was wondering, say, if you're still needing somebody to go to the dance with." She was smiling, coolly.

I paused. It was like having one of those huge boom microphones in your face, her there, and everything you say gets echoed big-time. I said, "I wasn't planning to go, really. I got homework to do, races to win, and I'm just plain tired."

"Tired?" Oh, man, Lilly was not buying it. She was pouting, and she had this puppy-eyed look on her face. You couldn't resist her if you saw it. "Tired, you say? Tre... I'm sad. You disappoint me. I don't... want to be... alone... at the dance."

And she was holding my hands in hers, gosh, her hands felt so soft. She was on the verge of tearing up, actually, and it killed me inside. I didn't want to be a jerk then to her. I was too nice.

"No, " I said. "The most important homework I have now, is you. And I can always... race later. I'll make it. Fr-Friday night. For you. I'll definitely come."

Then she smiled at me, and she let my hands go. "Great. Thanks, Tre." She leaned in to kiss my forehead – blehh— it was so gooey and wet, but I was blushing real hard nonetheless. My heart pounded. I thought I was in love.

Lilly went away with her friends. She gave me a last look over her shoulder and did a bit of a wink at me before she disappeared around the corner.

I could hardly breathe, as I stood frozen there like a statue. The entire foyer was speechless.

In retrospect, it was probably one of the biggest slip-ups of my life.

"Hello? Tre? Trevor Listman?" a voice asked.

I snapped out of my trance and saw a large brown-haired guy decked out in a white shirt with a smiling green lump on it and huge glasses waving his hand in front of me, seemingly to check if I was still responsive.

"Oh, hey, Cale."

"How did you... do that?" He was in awe, almost as if I'd slain a legendary dragon or some mythological thing like that, I dunno.

"What?" I was still in a bit of a daze.

"Court the one and only Lilly E.?"

"Wait, I wasn't dreaming? Whoa."

"Dude, she's unattainable!"

"Well, it seems she was the one who 'attained' me. Or vice versa, I don't know. Wait, what?" I was confusing myself. Cale tended to make me do that. Maybe it's just his presence that does that, he's quite the person to take in.

"Don't hurt yourself, kid, you might blow a gasket. Anyway, there's gotta be some kind of catch or something with this, man."

"I was thinking that, too, but I hope not."

"Have either of you ever actually thought that a girl might like you for real?" a third voice to the left of us asked. We turned to see a girl with a huge blue and blonde ponytail walking with us.

"And there she is," Cale said.

"Hey, Allie."

"You know, I have a bit of a bad feeling about this chick, but still. At least now you have an excuse to go out and be social."

"And what, you're implying that I'm not quote-unquote "social"?" I asked.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Come on, Allison. Let little Listman have this jovial feeling of exhilaration, if only for one period of darkness." Cale said.

Allie and I had no response.

"What? I wasn't even all that polysyllabic that time!"

"Smaller words, Cale." Allie said, patting his shoulder. He groaned.

The loud braaaaaaap of the bell filled the speakers all around us. Break over, boring old school time was back.

"Well, I guess I better head off to class. It's not exactly an easy procedure getting to the other side of this labyrinth." I said, heading off toward the nearest stairwell.

"See you later, then!" the two of them replied in the distance.

my apartment.

(after school.)

Three hours of boring lectures and irritating barks from teachers for kids to quit writing on their desks later, the final bell rang and everyone went nuts while going out, as usual.

As for me, all I did was got my bike from the rack and left. That place has bad effects on my psyche, I swear.

Anyway, it was a strangely warm winter afternoon, and I pedaled down the long strip of concrete next to Alderney Drive. Alderney's what most people call "the heart" of Downtown Greyson, and that claim comes with merit. In fact, it's super true: that street is crowded.

Usually, anyway. All that was there that day was a few people with briefcases and dogs and stuff. It was weird.

But hey, a day that Alderney isn't crowded is usually a good day.

I made the turn into the garage under my apartment building.

The Griffin Tower is Greyson's tallest and most populated apartment building, and it's been my home here for 4 years. I like it, it has a good view.

Anyway, after the long, loooooong elevator ride up to floor 48, I headed down the main hallway and into Apartment 4808, aka my place.

"I'm home!" I yelled into the blue living room and loft around me.

"Oh, hi, Tre."

It was a low, uninterested mumble from a spiky-haired guy staring at our television with some random first-person shooter game on the screen.

"Hey, Jake, guess what?"

"You finally learned how to win against me in something?"

"No, but I did get a date for the dance on Friday."

"10 bucks says it's a dude," Jake said, snickering.

"Ha, ha, ha," I muttered as I went into our kitchen. "That was sarcasm, by the way."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it's the new thing. Everyone's doing it."

Jake's my adopted brother, in the near-loosest sense of the term. He's sixteen, and just so happens to be... ahem, of a different color.

Okay, he's white and the rest of us are black, but how was I gonna phrase that without it sounding weird? And if you're wondering why, it's a long story that goes way back past my birth and I don't really think it's all that important. So you can just continue wondering, 'cuz I'm not explaining.

Anyway, I took a can of root beer out of the fridge and cracked it open. Root beer's the best and I probably wouldn't be able to live without it, but it's here and I love it.

"So, who is this girl, anyway?" Jake asked. Not two seconds later I heard an explosion from the TV, and he made a loud groan of frustration.

"Her name's Lilly Everdeen," I said as I sat on the couch next to him.

"Is this the same Lilly Everdeen that apparently is in charge of the "hot chicks" or whatever?" he muttered.

"Yep."

"Impressive. Gotta be careful with their type though. They can get... feisty."

"One of them broke up with you?"

"Nope. I broke up with her. But she still wants me."

"You mean Karina?" another voice asked from behind us. "Cuz, uh, she broke your little thirteen year old heart way-back-when."

I looked up and found our older sister watching us from behind the couch.

"Hey, Dev," I said.

Jake muttered something under his breath. I couldn't make it out. I guess Dev speaks Jake's growling language though, because he bonked him on the head afterward.

"Okay, ow. Sorry."

Dev rolled her eyes and walked off. I snickered.

"Shut up, dude."

"But it's funny!" I said, trying not to get all loud.

"Whatever. The scene's over anyway." He sighed, then went back into his game.

and now it's that friday. (long and boring week skipped for boringness.)

the guys' locker room.

(right before the dance.)

Cale and I were sitting on the bench outside of the only stall that wasn't rank or had someone's, ahem, business still left in them. The reason why we were out there is... well...

"Gosh, Allison, why didn't you do all of your girlish things with Milly at your house?"

"Okay, I never do anything with Millicent, and there is a very good reason for that," Allie said from the stall.

"Do tell," I replied.

"Because Millicent is crazy, simple as that," she groaned.

"Why are you changing in here anyway?" I asked.

"Trevor Listman, I thought we'd established this. I am a young woman living in these United States of America, and I am free to do anything I have been given the right to do by the laws of Greyson City and the Constitution," Allie said from in the stall.

Cale groaned. "Oh, great, -Trev-, you've gotten her back on her soapbox."

"Don't call me that, Cale. And also, Allie, I'm sorry--"

"No, let me finish. And nowhere in either said document did I see a single article listing that I, being female, am disallowed to use this facility. Am I wrong on that, Mr. Listman?"

I didn't say anything.

"Well, Listman? AM I?"

"No," I whispered.

"I thought not," said Allison as she walked out of the stall. "Now, how do I look?" She had on a blue polo and a gray skirt. It was rather preppy, especially for miss "Very Very Guyish Girl" Allie.

"Girly," I said. "But it's a good look on you."

"Ha, ha, whatever," she mumbled.

"Tre's right, you know. You -do- look more feminine than usual," said Cale.

"Hmm!" I added.

"Whatever, just go in there and change," Allie groaned.

"I'm still in awe. You, of all people, courting Lilly -and- getting her to go to the winter dance with you? That is killer, man." Cale said as he flipped his collar out.

"Well, she courted him more, but whatever. It doesn't matter much." Allie added.

"You guys, you know I'm not the kind of guy that likes my friends going gaga over my business." I gasped, then walked out of the stall.

I dunno if it was all the neon green on my shirt and shoes or just the reflection of them against the lockers, but I could've sworn the room started to look much greener.

"Shiny," Allie said.

"Well, aren't you luminescent," Cale added, nodding his head approvingly.

"Still, it is pretty surreal, I guess," I said.

"Surreal? Dude, it's like Halley's Comet! You only get to see it once in a -lifetime-!" Cale lit up as he said this.

"You only said that to make a space reference, didn't you."

"Yeah, but good lord, did it feel good saying it. Are we ready?"

Me and Allie both nodded.

And then, with our epic looks in full swing, the three of us made a long power walk out of the boys' locker room and into...

the dance.

Every eye in that barely decorated gym was on us. Maybe it was my shirt.

I spied Lilly looking from the opposite corner of the gym. I waved, but she didn't really do much aside from nod.

It was alright though. I figured she was probably tired or something.

"Well, the lady seems to be calling for me, so I'll be on my way, then."

"May the Force be with you, T!" called Cale as I walked to my date.

"Hey, Lilly!" I said.

"Oh, hi, Tre. I see you're fashionably late." said Lilly.

"Well, you know me, heh." I laughed nervously.

"It's alright though. I like a boy who knows how to give a girl what she wants." She put her hand on my shoulder.

This was it. I, Tre Listman, Trevor Whatever, the dude nobody cared about, was on a d-a-t-e with the most popular chick in the eighth grade.

Nice.

"Hey, Tre, could you be a gent and get us some punch?" Lilly asked, motioning toward the table.

"Absolutely, my sweet. I'll be right back," I said.

As I walked toward the table, I thought, -Wow, this is going quite well, I guess. Cool. This date is gonna be great."

I started to pour out two cups from the bowl, and I think I whistled a bar or two of "Daisy Bell" as I did, maybe just 'cuz I was in my element or something.

Nothing could bring me down.

That is, until I heard -it- yell my last name from behind me.

"Listman!"

It, or rather, he, had a deep, harrowing voice. That of a tall, imposing, younger-than-he looked imbecile with a lack of quite a bit of knowledge.

I had a solid idea of who he was. Rick Callahan, star player of Fillmore Junior High's Fireflies football team, though I think that statement kind of contradicts itself. They called him "the Brown Blur" to make it sound like he was a legend. Wasn't really that true.

"Oh, uh, hi, Rick."

"I heard from a bird that you got the nerve to take my girl out to this here dance," he said.

"W-what girl? Girl? I wasn't even here with anybody," I said. I was scared by him. The dude was easily the size of two Tres put together, so it wasn't like I could defend myself anyway (and also, I had the reflexes of a sloth).

"You are a terrible liar, you know."

"Yeah,Idoknow,andI'msorry,andIhopethatthiswon'taffectourfriendshipandstuff,and--"

"Cut the crap, Listman. You were here with Lilly Everdeen. Right?"

A beat.

I laughed weakly, then said, "You two went out?"

Rick frowned and got this stare in his eyes at me. It was like the burn of the class from earlier, but put into the look of a single pair of eyes. And. They. Were. Pissed.

I smiled nervously. "I can't run, can I?"

"Nope."

And it was then that Rick Callahan shoved my head into the punch bowl. In front of the whole school.

Nice.

I sputtered and gasped for air as he pulled me up, only to find myself falling onto the ground with a pat from him onto me.

And just to add insult to injury, two of his football cronies came and threw the bowl down at me.

I was soaked in pink, dripping and wet, and there seemed to be a circle of people around me gawking at the spectacle.

Laughing. Like this was a joke or something.

I was mortified beyond belief. I saw why she asked me to the dance now, and this was it. To give me this colossal feeling of embarrassment on a school wide scale.

What a huge hussy she was.

What a naïve nincompoop I had to be.

I ran out of the gym from the back door, still saturated in artificially flavored fruit punch, and sped down Alderney as fast as I possibly could on foot.

It was sickening. I spent the whole week in excitement, only to get, well, -that- as a final resolution. A huge letdown.

Letdown.

That was the only word that stayed constant throughout my trip back home.

I was irritated. I hated the fact that I wasn't popular. That it seemed like I was nothing but a punching bag for the class's higher ups. I hated the social ladder and the bigger fish and all of the other metaphor crap.

In the shower, I was just about ready to blow a fuse and yell my head off, really.

Luckily, though, when I got changed and went in the kitchen, I remembered I had half of a root beer left in the fridge from earlier on in the week.

It'd have to do for then. I'd have probably tried to shill for more to my mom later on.

As I took the can out, in the corner of my eye I saw a green note on the fridge's door. Usually green papers were meant for me, so I pulled it off.

Tre,

We're out shopping at the Galleria if you're reading this. Call Mom before you leave if you want to come.

Dev

Looked like I was headed to the mall.

about forty minutes later...

"Sorry about the date," Dev said.

"Eh, it's no big deal. I'll get over it," I replied, sipping from my giant cup of root beer.

Mom, Dev, Jake and I were catching a bite before the girls went off to shop for girl stuff. Christmas things.

The two of us were just going to Straight Shot to look for stuff to try to ask for Xmas too.

Jake looked at my nearly-uneaten cheesesteak on the table.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asked me.

I had another big gulp of my root beer.

“Oh, yeah, that.” I replied as I took a big, messy bite of the sandwich.

Steak bits and yellowish-white provolone sauce spurted from my mouth and into the sandwich holder.

I eat like a pig.

(Fact: Barq’s Olde Tyme Root Beer is my favorite drink [along with coffee], but on certain days, it can make me go completely bananas. This certain occasion wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for that particular tasty, tasty root beer and cheesesteak combination.)

I hoarked the rest of the cheesesteak down in seconds, and my mom and sis were watching me like an animal at the zoo.

They exchanged some kind of look.

Dev shrugged, then continued to watch me.

I stopped when I saw that they were watching me. I was in the middle of my final bite when I said, “What?”

They replied, “Oh, nothing.” in typical mother-daughter fashion.

I finished the steak.

It was delicious.

straight shot

"Greyson's Favorite Store for More"

westland galleria mall location

"So I think I kinda wanna look at the--"

"I already know, Tre. Electronics. Entertainment. Video games and stuff," Jake said.

"Well, where did you want to go?"

Jake froze, then said, "The bathroom."

I groaned. "Can I just go over there now and you can come catch up with me later?"

"I guess. Now, I have a loo calling my name, if you wouldn't mind..."

Jake ran off. I rolled my eyes and started heading toward the section.

Then I thought for a sec. I could possibly get there faster on a cart, right?

Yeah. Of course, four wheels tend to speed up two legs. It was a strange idea but whatever, what harm could it cause, right?

I pulled a cart out of the corral and inhaled a big breath, in and out.

This was it. Here we go.

I turned it toward the other side of the store and started kicking the ground behind me. As I gained speed, I climbed aboard the cart, still treading the ground.

“Woo hoo! Freedom!” I pumped my bony arms in the air.

I guess it must have been one of my crazy days or something.

The aisles of checkout lanes beside me were a vague red blur. It was just me, the cart and the wind going behind us. It was a rush, really.

But then the cart started to wobble. I got tense as I looked down. The wheels were creaking incessantly and it was getting troublesome keeping the thing straight. Then I noticed that there was a gauge on the bottom of the basket with a bunch of numbers and the letters "mph". It was peaking at the very edge, at about thirty-five.

Two questions appeared in my head from that gauge:

1) Why is there a speedometer on a shopping cart?

2) THIRTY-FIVE MILES AN HOUR?!

And then I looked up. There was a woman coming up ahead of me with another cart. Oh, frak.

I veered sharply to the right and lost my grip on the handlebar. As I pulled myself back onto it I just barely missed the other cart, but as I tried to get a steady hold on it again the thing had started swerving like mad like a car running serpentine.

In a desperate attempt to stop, I grasped the bar and straightened the cart out but I realized all too late that there was a wall right in front of me, and, well...

The cart crashed right into the Straight Shot Optical's side wall.

The place had become a huge wasteland of plastic frames, glasses, some contact lenses, and a little blood in a good six-and-a-half seconds.

I'd fell onto the ground upon the impact. I tried to get up, but suddenly the cart started to fall down on me, and I wasn’t able to get anywhere in time.

The cart completely tipped over, and as if that wasn’t enough, a personal mirror fell from the desk next to me, right onto my slightly-dented head.

Everything went black.

The next thing I remembered after that was seeing a blurry yellow light hanging above me. It was dark and weird. There was an air around it that made me feel like I was in both a crummy cubicle and a jail cell at the same time.

Man, was I out of it. I was dizzy and felt like I was coming back from the dead or something. Strange feeling for sure, especially when you wake up somewhere you don't even recognize.

I started sweating profusely as I lifted myself from the pleather loveseat I was lying on top of.

"Oh, it's you."

I got paranoid in a snap. Who was this and how did they know me?

"Subject number 159613, teenaged black male, found knocked out on Straight Shot ground with no parent, guardian or authority figure after the Enforced Escort Policy."

"W-what?"

This was the place nobody wanted to be, especially after hours. The mall security department.

"State your name, 159613."

"Um, okay, I'm Tre."

"I meant your full name, you rat," said the guard.

"Tre... Listman?"

I turned around to find a man behind the counter with a very gruff look on his face, though it seemed almost as if he were actively trying to keep up a facade. He had the strangest grayish tone, almost as if his color was desaturated by my eyes, and he had a dull brown combover-style mop even though there was hair all over his head.

A quite strange fellow.

"Well, Mr. Listman, you are in quite a heap of trouble.”

As if I didn’t already figure that out.

“I’ll have you know, Mister--” I paused to read his nameplate, then attempted to pronounce his name--“Carl Ollins Weis-ber-ger,-”

“It’s pronounced Weis-ber-zher.” he interrupted.

“Weis-ber-zher, um, excuse me, that the whole thing was an accident-”

“That’s what they all say.” he interrupted, again.

Dang, was this guy rude or what?

"I don't think I did anything wrong, this seems like a mistake."

"A mistake? Oh, really, Mr. Listman? You're saying that my classification here of you destroying merchandise in the Straight Shot with malicious intent and causing disturbance of the peace while in said store is a MISTAKE?!" Weisberger's eyes seemed to almost bulge out of his face.

I hesitated to answer. "Um... yes?"

Weisberger was visibly angry with me for some reason that I couldn't find out.

"Well, allow me to set the record straight," he said, clearing his throat. "“Destroying merchandise without buying it is considered stealing according to Code 19.53 of the Galleria Mall Security Rulebook. Not to mention that the Enforced Escort Policy was also in effect at the time, and your lifeless body was found in the Optical Section of the Straight Shot in the left wing of the mall. You’re a criminal, and you will be sent off to be corrected just like all the other vandals and thieves that are out there.”

I was drawing a blank. I had no idea how to respond to this vocal and legal tomfoolery.

But for some reason, I just said, "That's crap."

Despite that being one of my blurt outs, I stand by it.

"Yeah, well, it may be crap to you but that is how the real world works, sonny. When you're young and dumb you might think the world will be able to be your oyster but as it turns out all it is is a side order of popcorn shrimp."

"Huh?"

"This world, this city, my life, my job and this dingy old security department. They all suck, got it?"

I nodded nervously. He was scaring me.

"Honestly, I don't think you should take it personally. Many people come out of reform facilities and turn out better for it."

"The glasses were fake! They aren't even real ones, they were just for people to try on! And you want to, what, send me off to Room 101 just for that?"

"Actually, we'll probably send you to Room 105."

I blinked twice. That sentence made me want to just bolt out of there but I didn't want to be obvious.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I just need to get some paperwork and we can get that straightened out, mmkay?"

Weisberger was gone.

In his place was a rotund and rather sleepy guy with a long tendril of drool going down his uniform.

It was kinda very disturbing to watch, actually. I couldn't take that hole any longer.

I had to get out of that mall.

I got up and went behind the desk. In the corner near El Beardo I spied a paperclip that was the perfect size to fit into the door.

I extended my arm to try to get it and was just about to pick it up when a trail of drool happened to fall from the mouth of Beardo and onto my nearly-nonexistent bicep.

Bleargh, old guard spit. I winced.

Sure, it was disgusting, but I managed to keep in my feelings until later.

I got the paperclip, then went back to the couch I was at before and started bending the long edge like mad until it looked good enough to fit into the keyhole.

I ran to the door, then fit the makeshift key into the keyhole and tried to turn the doorknob.

“Come on, come on...” I murmured as I tried to unlock the door.

Nothing.

Well, that’s great.

But then, the existence of a elongated glass window inside the door became apparent to me.

I smiled.

The scene: a back alley in Greyson. T-Man walks in to face the door about 20 feet away from him. “I must say, your Glass Fu is no match for my Judo Chop!” he says in an abnormal manner, as if he’s speaking some other language.

The door says nothing.

“Silent type, eh? Fair enough, I can still take you on easily.” T-Man continues.

A slight shine shows on the midsection of the window. T-Man assumes a fighting stance, takes a few steps back, and soon enough he’s running, running at a speed unlike any other… he’s up to the door and then…

KRAK!

I crashed into the window like a madman, and fell to the ground over a few pieces of glass.

“OHMYDARLINGCLEMENTINEWHATKINDOFSTUPIDIDEAWASTHAT?!” I said, rolling over in the process. I looked at my hand and saw that there was a small cut on the tip of my thumb, and outside of it came a stream of that wonderful stuff many people call blood. I immediately began sucking on it like some sickly baby.

I dislike blood.

A lot.

The sheer concept of some hot liquid pouring out of people when they get hurt… eugh.

But I had no time for petty fears, so I ran as fast as I could down the hallway from the HQ to the rest of the mall. It felt like it was the longest hallway to ever exist in the history of shopping malls.

I knew that when I got to the end, though, that I’d be able to get out of the mall and back home free. I could just forget any of it ever happened.

I opened the double doors as I got to the end of the hallway. The hustle and bustle of the Galleria was nonexistent. It was still lit down the long corridors but the stores themselves were like giant, dark cages.

Empty.

I felt into my pants pockets. No phone, no iPod. I must've left them both at the apartment. Great.

It was just me and the mall.

I walked to a door just outside of the Ericson Young store and tried to open it, but try as I might I couldn't get it to push out.

I ran to the other side and tried a different door. No luck there either.

Surely this couldn't be right, I mean, why would they lock the doors so no one could get out? I thought.

But alas, I tried door after door down that section with not one opening up.

After my seventh or eighth one, it all became clear to me. I realized that I wasn't gonna be able to get out without getting into more hot water with the rent-a-cops.

I was stuck there.

I sighed and walked to the nearest bench, but before I could sit I felt some sort of cold pressure on the backs of my shoulders, and soon enough I found myself falling down.

The pressure somehow dug into me, and that was when I realized that someone's -nails- were doing that.

"OH, GOD!" I yelled. "GET IT OFF!"

I flopped around like a fish with my eyes closed and for whatever reason started babbling, "The boogeyman has found me! Help! Someone! Anyone! Plea—"

"Dude, what in the heck is wrong with you?"

I opened my eyes and turned around.

It wasn't the boogeyman who attacked me. It was a girl. She was a very, er, pretty one too. Her huge, pale green eyes and dark brown hair hung above me.

"Who... uh... who are you?" I asked.

"That, my dear, is the million dollar question. Who... are... you?" she said, plopping down onto the bench.

I stared at her in confusion, and she sighed.

"I'm the Lady in Grey. But you can call me Nora Irving. Can we move on to the name of my new neighbor now?"

She paused for a second, then laughed.

"What, am I that weird?"

"Nah, I just noticed that there were five Ns in that set of sentences."

I was bewildered by this Nora character, but there was something oddly recognizable about her. Familiar, even.

I pulled myself onto the bench, raised my chin as high as I could and said, "Well, Miss Lady, you currently stand in the presence of The Trevor Listman, Lord and Master of the High Legions of the Third Regiment of Her Majesty, Silverburgh's Royal Army."

I smiled nervously as she burned through me with a stare from those eyes.

"Too much?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, yeah. I'm Tre. Listman."

"Hi, Tre Listman."

Things got really quiet and even more awkward after that.

"So, uh, not to be rude or anything, but... do you live here?"

"Nah, I'm doing long-term research on the dimness of night guards."

I looked at her puzzlingly.

"Are you normally this bright?" She groaned. "Yes, Trevor, I do live here."

"Okay, okay, sorry. I'm just weirded out by this."

"You get used to it, " said Nora as she got up and started walking down the platform.

"Wait, is it just you that lives here?"

"No. I have a few... friends. And geez, kid, you got any more questions?"

I didn't say anything.

"And now he goes silent. Well, it was nice meeting you, kid, but I have bigger fish to fry."

"Wait, uh, Nora, where ya headed?"

She turned to me and smirked. "That, young Padawan, is the TWO-million-dollar question."