He was almost there. Wiping off the sweat from his brow, he inched closer through the undergrowth, twigs catching at his hair and his elbows sinking in the dirt. He had to be careful moving like this, in case his target saw him. Not a sound could be made, not the crumpling of a leaf or the frustrated curse of damnation, nothing that would alert the target to his presence. It was a formidable opponent; the pursuit had taken almost more than an hour. He was used to achieving his objectives much more quickly than this. Overhead he could hear the sounds of foot steps, and he froze, and he could sense the target was getting uneasy. If he didn't hurry, he would have lost her again.

He inched forwards evermore slowly until the footsteps ceased, he could see the black hair of his prey now! Adjusting his body and looking at his surroundings, he arched his back, alerting the target. Without wasting any time, he stung out of hiding, arms open wide, tackling his opponent and locking her legs. Grabbing her by the back of the neck and avoiding scratches, he stood up, the need for silence no longer necessary. The screaming and yowling rung loudly off the walls of buildings, but he didn't care. It was done.

"Oh, Alex! You found her!" came a relieved cry from the porch. Alex walked up the creaking wooden steps, handing off the small black and white kitten to it's elderly owner. He then forced a smile, looking cordial.
"Oh, it was no trouble, Mrs. Macarthy." he replied, pulling a throne out of his palm without a wince. "She might be a little dirty, I found her behind your neighbor's beach rose bushes."
The gray-haired matron shook her head and tutted disapprovingly at her feline.
"Now Maizy, what has mommy told you about running off like that? I'm so sorry for asking your help, Alex. Honestly, this is the third time this week she's escaped! Oh! I almost forgot, Alex, wait here, I'll go get your reward."
"Oh, Mrs. Macarthy, you don't-" he began, but was cut off.
"Now now, I have to give you something for being such a dear boy." she repeated, taking her kitten inside and closing the screen door.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the window, he grimaced. Well now, didn't he look like a sight to see? He still had leaves in his hair, and hands and elbows were covered in first, and his glasses had a spiderweb stuck to them. He sighed and brushed himself off as best he could, looking much neater without having a garden supply store on him.
After cleaning his shaded glasses, he quickly put them back on before Mrs. Macarthy came out. Smiling pleasantly, the woman handed him a ten dollar bill, which he graciously accepted. Checking his watch, he groaned internally. It was almost second period by now. Blurting out several goodbyes, he rushed off the porch and down to the bus stop, just barely making the bus. Sitting down near the front, he was tempted to smoke- the sights and sounds of the bus were almost overwhelming him. Smoking helped dull his otherwise too-sharp senses. Stopped him from going completely nuts in a bustling city like New York. He could probably light one in the bathroom, assuming he was quick. He didn't want to become a truant and attract attention.

Ella furrowed her brow at her reflection, the imperfections so obvious, so immune to any kind of attempt at altercation. Her dark eyebrows were too thick. Her nose too big. Her brown eyes too squinty and dull. Her tan too orange-ish.

Damn spray tanning lady...I'm gonna have to request someone else...

Leaning back from the mirror, the brunette was careful not to disturb the various cosmetics displayed in precarious positions across the curvy contours of the little school sink. There were at least ten little containers of various goopy substances laying around, their bright, flashy - and completely false - labels. With expert eyes, Ella scanned the plastic carnival with conviction. Her trained hands swiftly selected the right products to complete her freshening up session - mascara, eye-shadow, more concealer, extra perfume, touch of powder.

And she only had five minutes before the tardy bell rang.

In a flurry of movement, Ella began her bathroom ritual with careful but quick movements of various brushes and tweezers and a bunch of other perfecting tools. She hardly noticed the creaking of the old door behind her and the clicking of little heels on the linoleum floor, and naturally, she jumped when a cringe-worthy voice sounded behind her. Her careful hand jumped as well, making her eyeliner pencil stab into her eye.

"Got enough makeup, Haussler? It's not like it'll make anything better, anyway."

Blinking profusely, Ella tried to roll her eyes. Without success.

"Being mean and fugly doesn't work, Cooley. I'd stop where you are before you hurt yourself." Ella glared at the blonde girl through the mirror.

"Looks like you already have."

Ella watched in muted horror as the white of her started to turn a ghastly light-pink. With a quick glance at the clock on her phone, she decided to just call it a day and go to class. She could face her enemies - both people and facial features - next passing period.

With quick movements, the brunette grabbed multiple containers in each hands, stuffing them into her monstrous makeup bag, which was then zipped up and shoved into her backpack with her phone. Slinging the black and white book bag onto her shoulders, she strode out the stiff metal door and into the flourescent hallway just in time for the bell to ring.

"God damnit."

The bus stopped outside his school, a plain looking building in East Village. It's walls were a dull beige, the paint faded near the top but much fresher and bright near the bottom, a sign of new coats being continuously applied, probably to cover up graffiti. He rather liked the graffiti culture here in the U.S. Many of the tags were artistically genius, and to him, the very act of painting a masterpiece in secrecy was something that amazed him. It was a way of expressing rebellion through art. Of course, there was a very big difference between actual art and just spraying a signature or a penis on concrete, like you were marking your territory.

A flimsy chain-link fence surrounded the school, the gates being closed off during the school day. This was a closed campus, and the fence was presumably to protect students in case of outbreaks of violence. It was a nice way of saying "Keep Out" but it wasn't hard to tell that if anyone did attack the building or the students inside, the fence would only hinder the movements of the police.

He really didn't want to have to go to the attendance office and have to wait for a note to get to class, he had always hated bureaucracy, so he slipped under a well known gap in the fence, re-attaching the zip tie to it once he was inside. The school's cheap band-aid solution to their gap in the fence would only be good as long as it didn't prove a problem. If the ties were lost or the gap widened, they might be convinced it was time to bring out a blowtorch and fix it.

The bell signaling the end of second period rang just as he stepped through the cafeteria doors, and he couldn't help but groan. Great, one period was bad enough, but two? All because of that damn cat and the damn bus driver. Still, as long as he had some time between classes, he figured he might as well take his daily dose of cancer.

Crossing the cafeteria and pushing the door open to the boy's bathroom, he sat down inside one of the locked stalls, pulling out his packet and lighter. The stench of smoke and the rush of nicotine brought almost immediate relief to his aching senses. The entire school stunk worse than the bus, filled with the scents of deodorants, sweat, food, gas, ink, makeup, pus, drugs, and of course, raging teenage hormones. He looked down at his pact, shaking the remanding cigarette's around. Only seven more. He'd have to buy more on his way home. Being a chain smoker was the only way to survive in this enormous city, and being in an enormous city was the only way to blend in. And he needed to blend in.

Flushing the ashes and butt of his cigarette down the toilet, he stepped out to the sinks and washed the dirt off his hands. He then stepped out of the bathroom and joined the crowded and noisy halls of traveling youths. Let's see, he had missed both Mathematics and English, meaning his next class was PE. He crinkled his nose in disgust. Oh dear lord. The locker rooms. He really should have taken a second smoke.

Ella was a flurry ruffled hair and loose papers by the time she reached lunch that day. The morning periods - one, two, three, and four - had been pure hell. Forgetting homework in Algebra 2 and Chemistry had set her up for a bad morning, and since Mr. Haster hated her anyways, her only real break that morning had been sitting next to Parker Rossen in third period. A lot of people assumed them to be dating, but in reality, they were just really, really good friends.

Ella wouldn't say he wasn't hot though. He was. Very.

Forcibly pulling her consciousness away from her horrid morning, the brunette pushed her way through the hordes of teenagers that were all heading to the same place - the cafeteria. She could already smell the rubbery hamburgers in the conventional microwaves.

Just delicious.

When she reached a clearing in the crowd, Ella managed to catch a glimpse of her friends sitting at one of the oblong tables along the cinderblock walls. She never really knew how they all got there so fast, since she was only about a five minute walk - in traffic - to the cafeteria when the bell would ring.

Quickly, Ella strode over to the table and flung her backpack into an empty seat with a quick "be right back" half-shouted to her friends before flinging herself into the crowds once more.

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke assaulted her nose as she accidentally rammed face-first into some guy.

Splash!

The chilled orange juice soaked into his shirt and dripped all the way to his pants. The glass then tipped over, spilling the remainder of it's contents on his tray, ruining his food. Giving it a glare of disgust, he turned his cold eyes down towards the offending person, a spray-tanned bimbo. Containing his venom, he kept his face cool, despite the mess she had created by ramming into him.

And then he opened his mouth.
"S-Sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!" he apologized, smiling and waving off the incident. Putting his tray down on an empty spot, he assessed the damage done to his shirt, all the while discreetly sizing up the girl. He recognized her, she was in his afternoon classes, but he didn't know her name. However, with this reassuring information, he was at least positive that she was, in fact, another idiot high school girl and not someone targeting him.

"At least it's lucky I still have my gym clothes with me! No harm done." he called over his shoulder, readjusting his bag and going to the boy's bathroom. There he changed out of his wet shirt, rung it out, and stuck it into his bag. Alone in one of the stalls, now, he took another cigarette, to cool his nerves. Honestly, this was the childish world he had to put up with. The one had had been putting up with for more than six months. It hadn't been hard getting a fake identity set up, but it was difficult keeping it together.

Taking another puff, he felt the vibrations of his burner cell, along with the tell-tale music of the Macarena. Groaning, he wanted to simply ignore it, but he could use a distraction right now. Flipping open the phone, he answered.

"What is it, Jules?" he snapped irritably.
"Hey, did you find the old lady's cat?" came a chipper and excited voice on the other end.
"Yeah, under a bush. Tell her to keep her damn pests inside from now on, I'm tired of crawling through peoples gardens."
"Great! How much did you get?"
"Ten. And no, I'm not sharing it. I need to buy a new pack or two today."
"Yeah yeah, that's pocket change compared to this case! Listen, Mr. Gonji's-"
"Oh god no, the crazy fish guy? The one who goes on and on about Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"
"Yeah, that one! Listen, he-"
"No, Jules."
"But you haven't even heard-"
"I don't need to hear it. I'm not going on some fucking goose chase for a crazy ex-sushi chef!"
"But Aleeeex!"
"No. And even if I would, I'm full today. I still have to find two credit cards, a house key, and a Buzz Lightyear doll."
"But man, this is really important-!"
"Bye, Jules." he said curtly, hanging up and snapping his phone shut. Shit, that hadn't helped at all. What he needed was a stiff drink. Perhaps he could snoop around and find out who was throwing a party. He was moderately popular, and chances were there would be somebody flaunting their parent's liquor cabinet.

Exiting the bathroom, he went back into the lunch line, greeting all of his "friends". Alex Middleton was a well-liked boy with no enemies, did his homework on time, got good grades, and helped his community as a small-time detective. And it was important to keep up this appearance, at least for the next couple of years.
And his "hard work" of keeping up a thriving social life did pay off. He got to know almost everything that people would share from social media, gossip, and the school's paper. Including word that someone was having a house party that night, with "everyone who was anyone" being invited. He smirked to himself. Perhaps pretending to be a child wasn't so bad after all.

Ella stood staring stupidly at the glasses-boy, whom she had just splashed orange juice all over. Why couldn't he have watched where he was going? Admittedly, he looked pretty pissed off. She was about to snap a warning when he started apologizing profusely. It greatly confused the brunette, since he had looked so angry.

"S-sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!" He had a sheepish smile now, and Ella scowled. Damn right he was sorry. That orange juice could have gotten all over her Lana sweater. He would have died right then and there.

Suddenly, he was turning away, presumably to the bathroom. "At least it's lucky I still have my gym clothes with me! No harm done." Who brings their gym clothes to lunch? There are lockers for a reason.

Ella decided that she just wasn't going to respond, and quickly proceeded to pick up some of her own food, which consisted of a skimpy salad, a fruit cup, and a CapriSun packet that she knew wouldn't last for more than a minute. The smell of fake meat wafting in from the other side of the food bar was making her sick, so she made haste in getting back to her table where her friends were chatting uncontrollably. Their words were made more inteligable as she neared the crowded table.

"Oh my god, you got invited?! Me too! I wonder if someone's going to bring a huge bag of pot like Reiny Ferrel did at that last party?"

"God, I hope not. It smelled so bad, and all the guys were practically retarded after the bag was empty."

Ella roled her eyes as she sat down. Parties were so annoying. She usually got invited - for what reason, she didn't know - but whenever she actually went to said parties, everyone she hated was there. Which, unfortunately was most everyone in the school. Plus, nothing was worse that a bunch of doped up, sweaty, horny guys rubbing up against you next to the spiked drink stand.

"..ey. Ella! Hello?"

Ella jumped at the commanding tone tossed her way. She must have zoned out, since her blond friend's crystal blue eyes were practically staring into her soul.

"Oh, uh, what?" Audrey laughed.

"You are so weird, Ella. I was just saying, are you going to Jacob's party tonight? I mean, you got invited, right?"

Ella swallowed a huge lettuce leaf. "Oh, yea. I got invited. I might go, I don't know. Jacob is such a douche, and so is his bitch girlfriend."

Kate, across the table, smiled. "Yea, El, we know you hate everyone. But it's not like you have to talk to them anyways. Come on, anyone who's anyone is going. Which means we're all going."

Ella rolled her eyes at the nickname. It wasn't like her real name needed any shortening. It was just four letters long. Taking a huge gulp of CapriSun - which, not surprisingly, drained the whole thing - she sighed. "Yea, I guess I'll go."

For the rest of that school day, things went by relatively normally. He took his science and history classes, and seeing as he didn't have an elective, spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on his "cases". The house key he could find relatively easily, he just had to make time to do so. The doll was probably trashed, he would buy a new one and call for details about it again so he could make sure they were identical. The two credit cards, however, were likely stolen. And since he couldn't operate computers farther than google, that meant he had to go to someone who could.

Taking a bus down to East Harlem, he checked in at a run down convenience store, the only people there being the attendant, a skinny latino kid, and an elderly black woman with who he presumed were her grandkids. He waved to the attendant, who perked up and grinned widely.
"Hey, if it isn't Mr. Tall, Dark, and No-Sense-Of-Humor! Where've ya been, man?" He called at him. Alex gave him his own sly grin.
"Can it, Juan, or I'll knock out another two of your teeth. Give me another two packs of the usual." he ordered him, sliding the money across the counter. Juan chuckled and passed him two packs of the requested cigarettes, leaning on the counter to chat.

"So, what are you doing back so fast? This is your third stop this week! Don't tell me that you've been missing me, huh?" he asked him, making kiss lips. Alex reached over the counter to poke him in the eyes, but the other boy had already jumped back.
"Whoa, I got it! No homo, no homo. But seriously, what's up? You look beat."
"I am beat. I had to save some flea-bitten cat today, which made me late for school, and when I got there this bitch ruins my favorite shirt, and I get a call from Jules ranting about Old Gonji." He ranted.
"Old Gonji? You mean the crazy fish guy who got kicked out of Soho?" Juan asked. Alex grimaced.
"Yeah, that one. Anyways, I need some help. I've got two missing credit cards to find, and seeing as how I can't keep up with your fucking technology, I'm coming to you. Since you're the only person I know and trust to hack a computer." he explained.

Juan paused, thinking this over.
"Okay man, but what's in it for me?" he asked, hesitant. Alex leaned forwards across the table.
"I'll owe you one."
"Done deal! I'll give you a call when I find them, just give me the information!"
"Great. And I'm also gonna need your shirt."

Ella stepped exasperatedly off of the bus, Lana Del Rey still blasting through her headphones and most likely contributing to all the hearing loss she would have as an old lady. Her whole body jolted down the steep steps and out onto the little driveway of her home. The brunette watched her Vans thud quietly around the car and up to the front door while the great humming of the bus's departure made itself known behind her.

It took a few minutes of fishing and swearing to coax her house key out of the black hole that was her backpack. Pushing the little bronze-colored key into the lock, she had to use two hands to turn the old thing until she heard a tiny click. Pulling the key out was just as difficult, and by the time she was in the door, her hands were hurting and the music that was so blissful on the bus was starting to piss her off.

Ripping the headphones out of her ears, Ella made her way quickly to her room, so as not to run into her parents, who would probably bitch about the fact that she forgot to tidy up her room that morning.

As quietly as she could, she shut the door to her room and flung her bag and shoes onto her bed, to which the old springs protested with a faint screeching noise. Her hand slapped across the light switch, illuminating the room with orangish light.

God, I can't hardly see in here...I need to change the bulbs...

Ella sat tiredly on her bed, reveling in the silence of her room. That is, until the faint vibration of her phone in comforters disturbed her. It was a short-lived noise, meaning a text. Flipping through the various folds of fabric, the brunette didn't manage to find the little computer at all until she just ripped the bedding off, which resulted in a small thud on the floor.

"Found you.."

It was a text from Parker: You going to that party?

Ella: Yea, stupid Audrey and Kate dragged (or is it drug?) me into it.
Parker: You don't have to go, you know. We could go see a movie or something. Tell them you're sick.
Ella: They won't believe me. They know I just hate everyone there.
Parker: Still. We could just hang out.
Ella: I wish, Parker. I wish.

Sighing, the girl let her phone fall out of her hand before falling back onto the bed herself. She needed to get ready, but she felt like falling asleep, right then and there. In fact, she was dozing off when a gruff voice called from the living room.

"Ella! Get your ass in here!"

Shit.

Quickly, the brunette jumped up from her position on the bed, squeaks and all, and breezed into her little bathroom, flipping the light on as she did so.

Her expert hands got to work immediately, starting with makeup wipes to start fresh. She then rubbed a cotton ball of nail polish remover over her face, taking off most of the orange that the stupid tanning lady had made. However, she was still too dark for her taste. Ella then proceeded to remake herself, applying makeup and perfume and changing into her party clothes - a white crop-top that cut off at an angle with dark blue high-rise shorts and black converse. Her hair had slowly started to un-straighten, and now fell in dark ringlets around her shoulders.

"Ella! Don't make me come in there!"

Two more squirts of perfume and she grabbed her purse from it's perch on her dresser. With practiced fingers, she undid the latch on her low-set window and pushed the stiff hinges upward.

"Bye, dad." Ella breathed as she squeezed herself through and out into the quickly-chilling evening air.

After changing into fresh clothes and phoning a friend for a ride, Alex was already in their beat up Toyota, driving to Brooklyn. He was quiet the way there, grinning to give off the impression that he was having fun. In all honesty, car rides made hime somewhat nauseous, and his ID did not permit him to drive just yet. The minimum driving age here was 16, but that was with parental consent. And his fake identity made him almost seventeen, but he'd still have to wait another year before he could apply legally. It was one thing to make up an identity for yourself. It was another thing to make up parents. And parents had to pay taxes and have jobs, and no matter how "special" he was, there was no way he could keep up that sort of charade indefinitely.

Before he had come, however, he had made sure that he had all of his "things" with him. A .22 caliber handgun, a switch blade, a spare burner cell, all hidden on his body. Just in case another pawn found him, and he had to fight.

They parked two blocks away, almost all of the parking closer had been taken up. Upon seeing the house, Alex raised his eyebrows, impressed. Well now, wasn't that a nice middle-class house? Structurally unsound, maze-like garden, small pool, something built to look good. Before entering he made sure to take note of all exit and entry points, just in case he needed to run.

The sound was almost deafening. Alex had never been one for this new age 'hip-hop' and rap music, honestly he rather missed the music of the 60's and 70's, what little of it he had heard. There was just something about that rock and roll genre that clicked with him. It was fun, it had rhythm, and it broke rules. And he did love breaking rules.
But this new stuff? He had heard quieter orchestras than this, and that was saying something! Why was it that American music was always so loud?

Still, he had to pretend to enjoy it, and stood around chatting to people while they were still sober. It was amusing, he would admit, watching everyone become drunk and disoriented. He would sit and wait for a while as more people showed up. If things were really good, maybe they could set this abomination of a house on fire?

He found the liquor cabinet easily, examining the bottles. While other people were raiding the fridge, looking for beer and wine coolers, he was rather pleased with the selection of scotch. Oh, so someone in this house did have taste? Taking some ice cubes and a short glass, he poured his drink before replacing the bottle. Chances were these children would content with their low alcohol level drinks. If they did try and whisky or vodka, they'd probably ruin it with a shit load of sugar and syrup. Liquor wasn't ice cream to put sprinkles in, it was a drink to be enjoyed in refinement. He had spent most of the past century in a freezer and even he knew that.

As the inside grew more crowded, he moved outside, sitting near the pool with his drink. Putting a cigarette in his mouth to ease his headache, he was in the midst of setting it aflame when he noticed someone else was outside. Oh, it was the orange floozy from earlier. How dull. Perhaps she was too smashed to notice him? Either way, he paid her no heed, looking back through the windows with a cruel sneer at the so-called festivities taking place. Oh, how fun the people in this new age were to watch.

Ella found herself wading through hordes of party-goers about an hour after she escaped from her room. She had been relieved to find that her outfit was fitting, since everyone else was going casual. Though obsessed with makeup, Ella had never been very fashion-conscious.

The pot - which, she supposed, had been correctly expected - was coating the air indoors, and everyone was already working their way into the alcohol. She didn't exaclty hate it, but her head was already hurting enough from the fumes of drugs in the cramped space, and getting buzzed sounded like adding a sledge-hammer to the mix. Nevertheless, Ella had taken the red solo cup of booze handed to her at the door with enthusiasm, and the few sips she'd had weren't doing anything to help the pounding her head.

In the background, someone changed the music to something loud and depressing and angry from Three Days Grace, and her need to escape increased ten-fold. Hard rock and metal made her want to puke. All it was, was a guy screaming into a microphone about how life wasn't fair. Ella would admit, those singers were right. However, they were also whiny bitches.

So it came to be that the brunette was pushing herself out of a sliding glass door while trying not to get squished and ground to death, As soon as she could breath, she stealthily poured the remains of her beer cup into an exotic potted plant. She was already feeling better without the pressure of people and body heat and drugs and loud music around her, and the pool was reflecting what you could see of the stars and moon beautifully. They looked like little poked holes in a dark blue glass pane. Ella wanted to run her hands through it, and the urge to do just that was overwhelming.

Maybe she really had gotten a secondhand high off of all of the drugs or something.

It was then, when she looked up from te tantalizing pool, that she saw the glasses guy from the cafeteria.

The perks of being a wallflower, everyone! Fuck the book, this is the real life..

"Uh, hey. I'm just...gonna.." Ella made her way awkwardly over to a lounge chair and sitting on it, her legs together and elbows resting on her knees.

Alex was actually rather startled that she talked to him, looking over at her without showing his surprise. Well, she looked sober. It did make him a bit suspicious, though, that someone who he had only just met that day turned up at the same wild party, sober of all things. It was probably nothing, just chance. In any event, he supposed the only way to make certain she wasn't being used was to get more information.

"Not interested in the party either, huh? Think the music's loud enough?" he remarked, stowing away his cold face, smiling instead. Glancing back at how smoky the windows had become, he raised his eyebrows in bemusement.
"I can see the headlines. "Twelve dead, 30 injured in massive pot fire, more details on page 19". At least maybe when they rebuild they can get an architect who isn't half-blind." he commented dryly.

He then remembered how he probably looked. He was also smoking and drinking. Shrugging it off, he gave a small chuckle.
"Don't worry, this one is normal. I'm probably more of a legitimate addict than all those morons looking for a high. Well, the worst it can do is kill me, and that's not even that bad." he said, taking another long breath of it, holding blowing the smoke out through his mouth.

He heard a loud crash come from inside the house, followed by a large cheer. He let out a scoff.
"Sure hope that had that insured." he muttered under his breath. Was this the way people had behaved years before? He remembered his older cousin's Bar Mitzvah, when he was much younger, but he didn't remember anyone screaming, hooting, and stripping. Most of the people getting drunk were the lonely old uncles who slept it off later. Perhaps he was just too young to remember how people were back then.

Ella shifted awkwardly in the plastic chair, the cold night air making goosebumps pop up on her bare legs. She rubbed her equally-cold hands furiously on her legs, hoping some friction would help her situation. "Not even that bad, huh? I can see that." The brunette paused, thinking. "I would start smoking, but they kill you so slowly. I'll prefer a faster way out." A few moments passed before she figured out the gravity of what she had just said, and she backtracked.

"Not that I'm a suicidal whiner or anything, I guess. I mean, nothing special ever goes on in life, but I'm a little freaked out with what comes after. You know, the whole oblivion deal." Suddenly, Ella wondered why she was being so talkative with a passive-aggressive jerk who had nearly run her over not a day earlier.

Definitely the secondhand pot talking. She was never this deep. Not even with herself.

Another crash resounded through the house, this time with a few angry shouts. Some glass broke, some whoops and cheers to fight came next. Things were getting heated, and Ella was suddenly even more intrigued with the glassy pool and the pinprick stars.

"I suppose they will be needing a good architect after this party."

Ella shifted awkwardly in the plastic chair, the cold night air making goosebumps pop up on her bare legs. She rubbed her equally-cold hands furiously on her legs, hoping some friction would help her situation. "Not even that bad, huh? I can see that." The brunette paused, thinking. "I would start smoking, but they kill you so slowly. I'll prefer a faster way out." A few moments passed before she figured out the gravity of what she had just said, and she backtracked.

"Not that I'm a suicidal whiner or anything, I guess. I mean, nothing special ever goes on in life, but I'm a little freaked out with what comes after. You know, the whole oblivion deal." Suddenly, Ella wondered why she was being so talkative with a passive-aggressive jerk who had nearly run her over not a day earlier.

Definitely the secondhand pot talking. She was never this deep. Not even with herself.

Another crash resounded through the house, this time with a few angry shouts. Some glass broke, some whoops and cheers to fight came next. Things were getting heated, and Ella was suddenly even more intrigued with the glassy pool and the pinprick stars.

"I suppose they will be needing a good architect after this party."

Alex couldn't help but suppress a scoff when the girl remarked that nothing ever happened. Taking another sip of his drink, he shook his head.
"I disagree. I think there's too much going on in the world. Way too much. Too many things being built, too many technologies being developed, too many babies being born, too many people dying, too many games, too many wars, too much stealing and surveillance and writing and talking and driving and flying and singing and dancing and loving and hating... It's like the emptiness is being polluted by things and events and people. And while I don't think that's a bad thing, it does get pretty pissy once in a while." He said honestly.

"Then death... I hate it. Not death itself, the idea people have about it. The stupid romanticism about it. People try and make it pretty, something that is their friend, a place in Heaven or Hell or rebirth or just nothingness. But the truth is, death is none of those things. Death is when everything you are, what you were, what's you'll ever be, it's gone. Poof. Bye bye. That's it. You had your run, and now you get nothing. And then you rot. People don't seem to understand that when you die, you rot. You rot, you stink, you become worm food. Or ashes. Or diamonds. I hear they can do that nowadays." he mused, downing the rest of his drink before dropping it in the pool. The ice cubes floated, the glass sank.

Standing up and lighting another cigarette, he put his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky.
"... Where I used to live, you could actually see them. Not like this, with all the light pollution. Probably the only nice thing about that place. But it doesn't exist anymore, so I don't care."

A third crash came, this one louder and closer. He could hear the chantings growing louder and louder for them to fight, along with the breaking of several bottles. He winced. That poor scotch...

Letting out a sigh, he flicked the butt of his cigarette away, giving the girl a sideways glance.
"Well, I'm out of here. I want to be gone before the cops come. I'd suggest you take the bus. It doesn't seem like anyone is going to be driving home tonight."

"You're one of those people that my mom used to call 'old souls' or whatever. You talk like you've been alive for hundreds of years, or some bullshit like that." Ella said after a long, pregnant pause. "And, you know, with you being an old soul and everything, I think I might be the opposite. I don't know, like, a young soul or some shit like that. You're probably right about the 'too much going on' thing. I get it. But, you know, maybe you should consider something about death."

She stood and shivered, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Her deep, brown eyes stared lazily at the stars in the pool. "My mom died a while back," She needed to stop. She shouldn't be opening up so much, especially to some guy who thought he knew everything about life and death and stars and what was going on everywhere, "And, I'm thinking, 'Yea, she's going to be worm food, but hey, she's helping out the worms who help out the trees who help out people, with, you know, oxygen and shit like that', and I also think that anyone who can accomplish that, at least, lives on forever in the people you see around you, the people helped by those worms that fed off of the buried person. And maybe, those people that they live through, aren't anything like your dead friend or relative or whatever, but there's something about them that makes you feel good."

Her mouth was warm from all the rambling. God, it was the stupidest thing she'd ever done. "And, you know, I think that, because they're living through the people around you, and because those people are making you feel good, they're experiencing joy, wherever they went after life."

Cop sirens were becoming more distinct, and Ella knew that it was time to leave, as the guy had said. "So, you know, maybe we should respect worms more. Get my drift?" Her feeble attempt at lifting the bleak situation. Also, the brunette didn't want to go home. Something was tying her to that spot, by the pool.

Rather than look annoyed, Alex looked bemused. He hadn't heard people talk like that since the 70's. He couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head.
"... Your mom must have been a major beatnik. Anyways, I really don't wanna be caught when the cops get here, so maybe we should make like the trees and leave?" he suggested.

The sound of crashing was beginning to get drowned out by the music, which was being turned ever louder. Now it was so loud that the water in the pool was trembling. Alex had to cover his ears just to stop them from hurting. Tapping the girl on the shoulder to get her attention, he motioned that they should get away from the house, pointing to the front lawn. Once they were far enough away so that they could hear one another, he shook his head, laughing.
"Crazy kids."

"I'm Alex, by the way. It's kinda funny. My first impression of you, when you plowed into me in the cafeteria, was that you were... A shallow, stupid, tanned bimbo. I guess now you're just a weird, stupid, tanned bimbo now." he said, poking fun at her to grab her attention. She seemed rather spaced out, staring at the pool and the stars. Maybe that was just because she was a hippy. He did get that sort of feel from her, from the long spiel about the worms.

"Anyways, what do you say that while they all the cops are busy, we go cause some trouble? Throw rocks at seagulls or put gum into pay phones, truly heinous things. Or find a convenience store, maybe it's just second hand pot but I'm getting hungry. You coming?" he asked, looking at her for an answer.

Ella had been listening the whole time, but didn't feel like moving until the third crash jolted her from her trance. A wind blew into her face, chilling her ever more.

"Crazy kids." The guy said, making her lift her head to look at him. "I'm Alex, by the way. My fist impression of you, when you plowed into me in the cafeteria, was that you were...a shallow, stupid, tanned bimbo. I guess now you're just a weird, stupid, tanned bimbo." The Alex guy chuckled, and Ella stirred, a familiar frown forming on her face.

Upon inviting her to go be a bad kid, she smiled a little. "I'm Ella, and my first impression of you was that you were a big, tall asshole with stupid glasses. And, I guess, you're still the same thing." Her stomach made a dying-whale sort of noise. "And yes, throwing rocks at seagulls and grabbing some fake food sounds pretty good. You know, as opposed to getting thrown in a jail cell with a bunch of lesbians."

Ella started walking after the guy - Alex - and tried to warm her hands by shoving them momentarily into her back pockets, elbows pointed outwards. Though, such position, though warming, turned out to be extremely awkward. Taking her hands out of her pockets, she tried to move them around more, to get blood flowing. This led to her reaching into her purse, which then led the brunette to find that she had left her cell phone at home.

Grinning at her rebuttal and acceptance of his offer, he pulled his long sleeves down further, finding how Ella fidgeted with her hands rather amusing. Like she couldn't get them warm without becoming terribly awkward.
"Hah, I guess this serves us right, not bringing coats or anything. Let's speed walk, I remember an arcade I went to once not far from here, once we get out of the residential area. An acquaintance of mine works there. Hyper arse. By the way, are you insinuating that all lesbians go to prison? Or just that all the girls in prison are lesbians? It's important that I know, my cousin is a lady-lover and I want to know if I'm in any danger." he mused, turning around the block as a police car drove by, sirens blaring.

That was lie, of course. His older cousin had already married her boyfriend of 5 years, and the other one was only four. And those were the only two women he had in his family, aside from his mother and aunt. But it wasn't like this girl knew, or even cared, about his family, and there was very little chance that she would inquire about it later. He could spin all the lies he wanted, as long as he was discreet about it. It wasn't like anyone at that school was going to find out that Alex Middleton didn't really exist, and neither did his family.

What he had described as an arcade really wasn't what one might have expected. Instead of a bunch of ping pong games and a kiddy bar, it was a dark one-room building, with several couches forming booths facing individual TV screens, equipped with different video games. Towards the back there was a bar and small dining area, dull and flickering lamps providing enough light to see what you were eating, without disturbing the guests in the darkness. Walking past the blaring sounds of gun shots and skulls smashing, all digital of course, Alex pulled up a stool at the bar, waving at the somewhat obese and heavily tattooed bartender.

"Hey, Tony. I see you've taken down the restaurant grade you were given. What was it this time, a C?" he asked snakily. The man Tony only scowled, his flabby facial skin folding in on itself, giving him the appearance of a irritated bulldog.
"Either order something or fuck off, Middleton. I'm not dealing with your shit tonight."
Alex merely shrugged.
"Suit yourself. Two chicken and fries, no sauce. And a bottle of Jack." he said, not even bothering to pick up the menu. Tony opened one beady eye at him, putting his elbow on the counter and leaning in his face.
"Got any ID?" he asked him gruffly.
"Do you care?" Alex countered.

The two stared at each other for a half minute, before the older man got up, grumbling as he wrote down the order and disappeared into the kitchen. Alex perked his eyebrows, looking over at Ella.
"Swell guy, don't you think? Probably wants to rip my head off. Hope you like chicken tenders, it's probably the least toxic thing in this place. Well, probably won't give you any more salmonella than cafeteria food does." he said, explaining briefly why he didn't even ask her preference. Not that he thought she'd care. She didn't strike him as a vegan hippy, and if she was, there were always the potatoes. They probably hadn't been murdered inhumanely... Probably.

"Well, mostly the latter, I guess. I had a friend that had to go to prison, and she came back lesbian. We aren't friends anymore." Ella shrugged, following Alex a couple of paces behind him. For some reason, she felt as if the position was appropriate, and that if she decided to match his stride, it would be some kind of challenge.

Briefly, the brunette's thoughts flew to the fact that she hadn't looked in a mirror for at least four hours. The fact kind of terrified her.

Upon hearing of their destination, Ella didn't really know what to think. She had always tagged arcades as 'little nerd-boy' hang outs - places where the geeks like to smoke weed because they think they're cool or where their girlfriends pretended to be 'sexy gamer-girl' types. Needless to say, she was neither surprised or indifferent when the rounded a few corners and a rather shifty building with blinking lights came into view.

The inside was about the same as the outside, and Ella supposed that she should have guessed that it wasn't really an arcade anymore. Alex didn't strike her as the type to take a girl to play video games, no matter how nerdy it was of him to wear shaded glasses everywhere. She was really starting to wonder about them for some reason.

Jumping out of her thoughts, she returned to the present when the fat ass at the counter left and Alex turned to her, all interested like. "Swell guy, don't you think? Probably wants to rip my head off. Hope you like chicken tenders, it's probably the least toxic thing in this place." She didn't even know arcades served food. "Well, it probably won't give you any more salmonella than the cafeteria food does.

"Eh, I'm not really a fan of meat." Ella said with a non-committal shrug. "It's not really about 'saving the whales and being kind to all living things' bullshit like that. It's just...I've been to one too many meat processing plants. I'm kind of scarred for life."

She made her way up to a bar stool, gingerly sitting on the somewhat sticky plastic seating.

Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"So have I, doesn't stop me. You're a pretty picky worm, aren't you? Weren't you just going on about how death gives to life or something like that? I don't think worms or dogs really care whether you die of natural causes or a tortuous homicide. Once it's dead, it's just meat, and if you don't eat it, some other worm will." he said mockingly, remembering her long pool-side speech.

Tony was back within ten minutes, sliding them their food on greasy paper plates and giving Alex his bottle before stomping off to shout at some of the patrons for fighting over their game. Alex picked up a salt shaker, dumping a whole lot of it and pepper onto his food.
"Age old trick for hiding taste. You know why europeans were so batshit crazy over spices and salts? To hide the taste of bad meat. It's funny, thousands have died, millions made, empires built, just to hide the fact that someone has a rotten lunch. Because a thousand years of war and trade is easier than inventing a damn ice box." he joked, taking a bite of his food. It was almost dripping with grease, but at least it tasted like something. Actually, it tasted rather good, compared to cafeteria food. For all the shit he gave Tony, he was actually a decent cook. If he just used decent ingredients, maybe he could run a proper diner.

He put the small flask of whiskey, no bigger than a cellphone, into his pants pocket. Nothing enough to get drunk off of, at least to him, but it would relieve some headaches. He'd save it for a rainy day, when things got really irritating. His phone suddenly came alive with a barage of texts, all from different numbers. Sneering, he showed Ella the screen.
"Look. They're all freaking out. Your phone is probably the same. It'll be a quiet day at school, tomorrow. Everyone will be either grounded or hungover. Or both. Probably both. Stupid kids, can't handle their own booze. American beer isn't even strong anyways. Tastes like watered down horse piss. Real beer is supposed to taste like concentrated horse piss." he commented, closing the phone without answering any of them. It was smart to have gotten out of their. Most house parties didn't up like that, but when they did, it was unpleasant for everyone involved.