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The twenty-second minute after the last class bell Tuesday afternoon finds Miss Brennan not where she is supposed to be.

The sun sets late in the day, but the wind reminds the girl that winter was not so long ago.  She huddles closer to the brick wall at her back, drawing her knees up and pinching the pages of her sketch book when they flutter.  The pencil slips from her grasp and bounces out of reach.

I had it!  Almost.  Should be inside.  Stupid.  Missing data.  Further than I've gotten before.  That's something, right?  Where the hell did it go?   She leans forward, searching.

Laney watches the red, plastic cylinder roll across the recently patched surface of the school's roof.  She can hear the pencil lead rattling within, even from this distance.   The motion is mesmerizing.

More so because the pencil she had been using was yellow.

A voice floats over from the right. "Busy, Lane?"

Alicia sits squatting on the edge of the roof like a reverse gargoyle, her golden eyes glowing in the reflected sunlight. Away from prying eyes, she's taken off her shades. It's become a reflexive action for her, removing them when the risk of being seen by unfamiliar people is low or non-existent.

"Oh!sh*tI'msorryAllywhattimeisit?ThisisTuesdayright?"

Laney hastily stuffs the pencil into her sketchbook as a bookmark and sets it aside.  Alicia has a brief glimpse. The precise print she's accustomed to copying from Laney's class notes is absent from the chaotic markings she sees now.  Names, dates, equations, symbols, and even a few tiny images of buildings...It's meaningless doodling.

Drawing her legs beneath her, Laney then smiles and directs her attention to her companion.  Or rather, just how precarious her companion's position is.

"Um...How did you - I didn't hear the door.  I like your hair.  Did I tell you that?  Kindof makes me want to touch it.  Sorry. Is that weird?"

Familiar with Laney's stream-of-consciousness conversations, Alicia tackles the layered topics in her response. "Yes, it's Tuesday. Relax, it's no big deal; I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Alicia stretches slowly to a standstill then just as slowly reaches back into a slow-motion backwards somersault as she continues talking. She brings her legs up into a handstand, then back down the other side. There's nothing overtly intentional in the act. It's looks as natural as yawning.

"I climbed up. I caught your scent and followed it up here. You're the second person to say that, so I guess it's not that weird."

On her feet again, she hops down from the ledge onto the roof proper. "I wasn't sure if I was up for studying, but I did want a chance to catch up with you and talk about something."

The liquid motion of Alicia's own idiosyncrasies is familiar to Laney, as well.  She even reaches out expectantly, automatically, as if she truly believed Alicia was going to allow her head to be petted, if for no other reason than the tactile warmth.

"I'm sorry.  We were supposed to...Jack's, right?  What - What something?  Not homework?"

Alicia blows out her breath as she moves closer to Laney. She looks away for a moment; her body is an easily readable gauge of her emotions. This is not a pleasant task.

"Yeah, not about homework." She hesitates, obviously uncomfortable. "Look, Lane, I know you're new to the group, so it sounds kinda unfair to dump this on you, but..."

She pauses again. She can't seem to be able to look Laney in the eyes. "Look, it's about Sam. I know you mean well, but she's having a rough time, and, well, it isn't helping for her to see you and John together.

"I'm not saying you can't be with him, or nothing," she's quick to explain. "It's just... It might be a good idea to give her some space, try not to rub the fact that you guys are, y'know, in front of her, OK?"

Alicia grimaces at her lame speech.

“Oh.  I get it.  You heard her at lunch yesterday.  I can’t blame you for thinking she hates him, but they really are friends.   He speaks highly of her all the time. 

"I’m sure she didn’t mean to rub it in John’s face that he still can’t fly- and that she gave up on helping him in order to go have fun with Sarah when they’d originally planned to do it together, all three of them.”

Laney sighs, lowering her hand, patiently explaining, “She can go farther with Sarah.  It’s not that complicated.   I haven’t known Sammy as long as you guys, but even I can see that’s just the way Sammy is.  Her priorities are different.  It might be an actress thing.

“And she said I don’t have to do this alone.”  Laney smiles, her thoughts unfettered by Alicia's gaze, recalling the terrifying events of three months ago as calmly as she would the times she’d broken bones.

“I wanted to explain things to her: that I don't mind if she and John are friends.  I mean it's alright with Donnie, Colin, and Rhys.  With you guys.  She doesn't know me well enough to realize it doesn't bother me, either.    She’s always wandering off.   I’ve been trying to develop a better relationship with Sammy so we can understand each other.    I can’t get past hellos in the hallway.   It’s alright.   I mean, I am hard to talk to.   Every year, for four years straight.  I wonder if I’ll make it to September.”

Alicia throws a mental facepalm. Sharp as a sack of wet mice sometimes, I swear.

"Lane," she tries to put it as gently as she can. "It's not John she's angry at, OK? Just trust me that trying to get close to Sammy right now is not a good idea."

“Would you sit here beside me, please, so I can figure out what the hell you’re - Wait.  You’re saying…She likes John?  Like…Like likes him?  Oh. 

“Um…Listen, Alicia.  John’s something special.  You have to admit - even if he is a boy scout, as you said.   Sammy specifically told me he’s not her boyfriend, so I think you’re on the wrong track.

“I remember when I was Sammy’s age.  Eighth grade, actually.  I had this crush on–    Geez, that sounds lame, huh?  Nevermind.   

“So she lusts after people.  So does everyone.  So what?   We’re capable of admiring things without wanting to possess them.  It’s one of the more noble traits of sentient beings, I think.    Yes, Sammy chooses to act on her urges more than most, but…”  She flashes an affectionate grin up at Alicia.

“Not treating her like she has the plague would help.  If anything, I should get closer to her and let her know I don’t mind that she thinks John’s attractive.  I haven’t been trying hard enough, Alicia.  We barely talk.

“Oh!   Do you know if she’s upset he’s not in her harem, too?  Did he refuse? How do those things work, anyway?  Sammy’s allowed freedom, but they’re restricted to only her, right?  God, I should ask her.  The internet was no help at all.”

Alicia pinches the bridge of her nose. Deep breaths, girl. Deep breaths.

"You're not getting me, Lane. This isn't about John at all, all right? OK, it may have been at first, but we've gone beyond that. Let me repeat myself for the thinking-impaired."

She starts miming hand gestures like a sign-language interpreter; it's a masterpiece of performing art. "Sammy - doesn't - want - to - talk - to - you. Is that clear? Did I get through to you this time? Do I need to break out the 8x10 glossies with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one?"

“Huh?   Me?  Waitwait.   She’s draped across Nick like a second skin every time they’re together, yet she tried to set me up on a date with Nick.   She barely speaks to John, yet she’s upset because I like John?   She has no problem latching onto Donnie when he has a girlfriend, and –

“You realize how crazy that sounds?    Oh.     That’s why you’re telling me.    Sorry.  I’m a little distracted and you’re not helping with the hopping and waving here.     She is um…unstable?    Well…Thanks for telling me, but I’m not qualified to advise -   You know I can’t focus when you do that.

“Why are you talking to me and not Sylvia?    Or better yet, Sammy’s parents?   How did she behave towards John’s last girlfriend?” 

Laney pauses, searching for the right words, searching more willfully to find the concentration to express them coherently. 

“I’m not qualified to speculate what the cause is.  It could be genetic, environmental…” 

 Then she looks down at her sketchpad with a bitter smile.  “And you already know what chemicals can do to people.”   This she opens and holds for Alicia’s review.   Her hand creeps spider-like up the page, until it reaches a name Alicia had been unable to pick out before.   She taps with the tip of her long finger:  Cindy Capshaw

Oddly enough, once Alicia’s made aware of one legible name, others begin popping out of the mesh of pencil lines: Wilde, Ballestra, Brooks –

There were other names, but Laney folds her pad closed and gazes up again at her companion.

“She doesn’t deserve to be miserable.  What about Nick’s girlfriends?   Her physician can test for drugs, Alicia.  And having a professional to talk to will help.   Someone who she isn’t emotionally invested in.    Given her situation, she should have someone like that, anyway.  It brings out your eyes, having it cut so short.   Sorry.  This must be exhausting for you guys to deal with.”

"No, that isn't... You're not... Argh..." Alicia closes her eyes and massages her temples as an incipient headache starts to spike. I wonder if this is what Colin feels when she deals with the rest of us crazies.

"Y'know what? Okay, fine, whatever. As long as we're in agreement that you trying to get cozy with her is classified as a Bad Idea," she finally says, the capitalization coming across loud and clear in her voice.


Alicia looks confused at the offered page. Finally she queries, "You talking about that Love goo s**t? That's before my time. But I know if that was what Sammy was on, the rest of the guys would pick up on that even better than me."

She continues, in what she believes is a futile attempt to set the spacey girl straight. "Last professional Sammy talked to was Strange. Don't think she's quite comfortable with that idea. And it's not drugs, Lane. Jeez.

"And from what Sam told me, she didn't 'set you up' with Nick. Nick asked you out of the blue, which is part of the problem. People keep suddenly being nice and attentive around you, and considering what you can do, that's kinda creepy, OK?"

The moment the words are out of her mouth, she regrets saying them. Her only hope is that Laney doesn't catch the underlying context.

“I don’t see what I have to do with it, actually.    It appears this…this two-faced?  Wrong word…Um…Split. This split behavior is a chronic problem.  I’ll ask Jean when I get home, but I haven’t witnessed this behavior in her.  You have.  You have a responsibility to help Sammy.   I didn’t say it was chemical, only that it’s a possibility.  Talk to your mom or a teacher, if you’re not comfortable bringing it up with Sammy’s parents.  But please don’t turn your back on her, thinking the problem will go away if you ignore it.     Have you talked with Sammy herself?  Has anyone?  No offense, but it wasn’t me she was bitching at during lunch yesterday.”



“She said that?  Really?   Weird.  John said Nick said it wasn’t a date.   See, Nick asked me if I wanted to go to the festival with them.   Perfectly innocent and kind of him to ask.  After he left, Sammy freaked because she was trying to remain ‘just friends’ with Nick and didn’t want to go to the festival at all.  Alicia, Sammy said it would help a lot if I went as Nick’s date, so she wouldn’t feel badly being there with Elrod.  Obviously, she changed her mind about the just friends thing.    Why wouldn’t people be nice to me?   I’m nice to them.    I only went along with Sammy’s date scheme because I wanted to make her to stop panicking.   Turns out, it wasn’t needed.  Poor Nick, being used like that.   I’m glad it was straightened out.  Silly to get so tangled up over nothing.”

"Yes, I talked with Sam," Alicia says tiredly. "Part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. I need your help in not making things worse while I'm trying to help her. Capeesh?"


Alicia's eyes start glazing over as she tries to follow the convoluted thread. "Um, okay, sure."

Trying to get back on focus, she shakes her head slightly and insists, "Okay, bottom line, you'll be chill about Sam and not bug her, right?"

“Chill?   What am I doing that’s so horrible? I want to help her!  Ooo, creepy.   What am I gonna do?   Beat her at strip poker?   Funny.   Listen.   Sammy’s not blind, deaf, or dumb.   She was there for the whole Hamilton thing, there when we were in the news room talking about Dr. Strange and I had Donnie look up three names and Jack told everyone about Adrien, there when the hag witch thing did whatever she did and then Colin...  Technically, each goo is two er…goos.  There are two reagents for each one.   She’s not stupid.   She knows I’m paranormal, Alicia.   Sammy herself told me I probably had powers my first day at school.  The love goo and the hate goo are connected.   I think the one is the natural progression of the other.   I was a real mess then.  I’m trying to determine what the next evolution of the goo might be and who’s responsible, but I’m missing pieces.  Can’t see the whole thing.  She’s been nothing but kind to me and even offered to help me figure things out.   

“It’s got nothing to do with my abilities.  Or me.  You wouldn’t have mentioned John if it were that.”

Laney scarcely pauses for a breath, her face reddening as her temper arcs, “So what exactly is it you expect me to do, Alicia?    Offer John’s **** on a silver platter to Sammy with a note saying, ‘Enjoy it with my compliments?’   Would that make things all better?   That’s kindof up to John, isn’t it?  Even if it’s not up to him because she has some weird harem thing…If she wanted it she’d already have it by now!    She had her chance.”

Alicia's jaw clenches. "All you need to do is leave her the F**K alone! Is that so hard to comprehend?

"So she suspected you were a freak. Heh-loh! So did I. Remember? Didn't mean we knew what the f**k you could do! Whatever the reason for her feeling that way's not the point. The point is that you're not helping by trying to poke it out of her, OK?"

The rising anger in her evaporates as some of what Laney said penetrates her awareness. "Wait. You got a lead on the Love Goo thing? You might know who's behind it? Whose this 'she' that's been helping you?" she asks insistently, her mood shifting from annoyed to excited with dizzying speed.

“No, the point is, Alicia, if this isn’t the worst case of buyer’s remorse in history, then there’s something seriously wrong with Sammy, and you need stop trying to play amateur shrink and tell someone in authority.   I’m not poking anyone.  You are! There’s a lot of sh*t that’s probably my fault, but this isn’t.   Alright?!  Why are you going after me?   Sammy, Alicia.   Sammy said she’d help me.  God.  I thought I was the confused one.”

There goes her temper again, emerging even as Alicia’s subsides.  It’s more challenging to concentrate when Alicia’s face blurs through a film of tears; Laney forces her words out in a sputtering hiss:

“And if you’re saying I sh-should stay away from John to make S-sammy happy, you’re wrong!  We didn’t give up on her.  She’s giving up on us.  If she d-doesn’t like me being with him, now, too f-f*cking bad.”   

Alicia actually slaps her forehead in frustration. "Ay Dios mio, por favor," she curses.

"Listen, for once in your life, listen to my words, OK?" She brings up a fist between them, making sure Laney's attention is on it. She holds up a finger for each statement. "I'm not goin' after you. I'm not sayin' it's your fault. I'm not sayin' stay away from John. I'm not sayin' stay away from anybody else. Got that so far?" she snarls.

"Fine," she continues without waiting for an answer. "All I'm saying, as someone concerned for everyone's health, is to give Sam space. What part of that are you havin' such a hard time understandin'?"

Laney sniffles, cringing back against the wall and staring cross-eyed at the fist dominating her vision.

“Sorry.  Space?  Her parents can keep her out of school, Alicia.   Isn’t that enough space?  Why do you think my giving her space will help?”

Laney's submissive response finally breaks through Alicia's control.

Alicia slams a hand on the wall behind Laney and leans in, her golden eyes fixing Laney's in a predator's gaze. She is every inch the bully that Laney thought she saw that first day.

In a low, dangerous voice, Alicia speaks, "You don't need to know why. All you need to do is leave Sam alone. Say 'yes, I understand.'"

Alicia’s hand strikes the wall before Laney realizes the girl is in motion.  She yelps aloud, more in surprise than in fear for her own safety.  As the world becomes shadowed by the angry figure looming over her, it occurs to Laney on a primal level, rather than an intellectual one, that appeasing Alicia would be the healthier choice, at least until she calmed down.   Chances are Laney might’ve tried to lie; but they’re so close and it becomes so difficult to concentrate.  Yellow.  It was yellow before, wasn’t it?  Why is it red, now?

When Laney opens her mouth she has no idea what comes out until she hears the words herself, “Sh-she’s my f-friend, Alicia.   I d-don’t unders-stand.   I like her.”

Oh, that was so not the right thing to say.

Near as she is, Alicia can now pick details from her own distorted reflection in the living sea of midnight that is Laney’s gaze.  Two tiny orbs of gold expand, the color bleeds into that sea, until she sees what Laney’s sees:  her own feline eyes and nothing else.

Alicia roars in Laney's face, "SAMMY DOESN'T LIKE YOU!"

She rears back her hand, forming a fist with the obvious intent to strike her.

Laney closes her eyes, the instinct now ingrained from Jack's training. Nothing happens.

After a few seconds, she opens them again. She's alone on the rooftop.

Oh. 

She doesn’t like me?   Why didn’t you just say so? 




Laney returns her sketchbook to her backpack, checking the closures twice to be sure nothing would fall out (again).  She slowly stands, using the wall to pull herself up, and checks the time.  If I'm late for dinner, then I'll be late for Jack's, then - What the hell?  

She stares at the pencil she holds, now doubting it was ever yellow at all.